Iím starting to believe Iím the only one who has changed. Itís simple, but an unpleasant feeling. But I must finally realize that I am subject to these sudden transformations. Nothing new has happened. I sit here in Winterhold alone writing to some unnamed reader. This college, for the moment, I will call my home.
My journey to Solitude was a tough one. A young man comes to the city. He has no name, no home, no work Ė he has come to the city to fulfill a contract of death. I wander through the woods, losing my way to the city where my goal can be found. I worried about my disintegrating clothes. They wonít last long. I worried about my next meal. Iím suffering. Iím nearly going mad. I worried about life, deathÖ my family. My familyÖ I canít remember the last time I saw them. My life has no purpose; Iím just an errand boy employed by liars, thieves, and hypocrites. As I write this, Iíve found some peace, but Iím still at odds with the world. My body is tired. I admit, the worse is behind me, but thinking about the journey from there to here is something that hurts my very soul.
All of this happened while I was walking around starving in Skyrim. That strange place no one escapes from until some sort of mark has been left in the body. I was walking to some city Iíve never been to. I was about half way through my destination when I decided to stop by a small town near Riverwood. I needed rest, so I spent the last money I had on a room. Itís small, but warm and safe. The people for the most part were nice.
I was lying awake in my room. I didnít get any sleep. Daylight was starting to sneak in. I could hear the steps of people moving up and down the stairs. I decided to get up and go to the bar. I questioned the bartender about the town. He quickly changed the subject and began telling me about some child performing a ritual in some nearby town. He mentioned something about a Dark Brotherhood. Rumors are all these people care about. I can tell by his excitement that he has told this rumor plenty of times before. I doubt if even he believes it. I, on the other hand, was fascinated by it. Rumors; be true or false are always revealing. I decided to go to the city where the boy was performing this ritual to see if itís true. What do I have to lose? Itís on the way to Solitude.
Diary of a Breton: journey to Solitude (part 1)