The carriage jolted one last time before the driver slowed the horses to a steady trot. My body ached from the hours of rattling wood and uneven road, but the sight ahead pulled me upright.
Dragon Bridge.
From a distance, the name made sense. The massive stone bridge stretched across the river like the spine of a beast, carved with the faint outline of a dragon's head rising at its center. The water below churned against the rocks, white froth catching sunlight as the current rushed downstream.
Houses clustered on either side of the bridge—timber walls, thatched roofs, smoke curling from chimneys. Soldiers in Imperial red patrolled near the crossing, their armor gleaming against the gray stone.
It looked like a town that had survived too much war and not enough peace.
The driver reined the horses to a halt by the side of the road. "Dragon Bridge," he announced with a grunt, as if the name itself weighed heavy on his tongue. "End of the road for some of you."
I stood, stretching the stiffness out of my legs, and climbed down from the carriage. My boots hit packed dirt. The sellsword, Daric, slung his sword over his shoulder and hopped down after me, muttering about finding cheap ale.
The old woman clutched her basket and shuffled toward the village, her pace slow but determined. The hooded Nord slipped off without a word, disappearing into the crowd of villagers.
And just like that, the shared hours of travel scattered. We were strangers again, each pulled toward our own path.
I adjusted my pack and set my sights on the longhouse that stood at the far end of town. Smoke curled from its chimney, banners hung at its front—this had to be the jarl's seat, though Dragon Bridge didn't have a jarl of its own. More like a chief, someone who acted as voice for the town under Imperial oversight. That was who I needed.
Deliver the letter. Simple.
My boots crunched on gravel as I crossed the bridge. The stone beneath me was worn smooth by countless feet, but the dragon head carved at the center still loomed tall, staring down at the river like it dared anything to challenge it. I paused for just a second, tracing the edges of the carving with my eyes.
In the game, this bridge was a landmark—an iconic spot on the map. But standing on it now, hearing the roar of the water and the wind scraping across stone, it felt heavier. Real. Like the bridge itself was holding up not just people but history.
The guard at the door to the longhouse barely glanced at me when I mentioned carrying a letter. He let me through with a grunt.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of stew. A fire pit blazed at the center, and benches lined the hall. At the far end, a man in a heavy coat of furs leaned against a carved chair, speaking with two villagers. His hair was gray at the temples, his face weathered but alert.
I approached, pulling the sealed letter from my pack. "Message for the chief of Dragon Bridge."
He looked up, eyes sharp, then waved the villagers away. They left quickly, leaving the hall quieter than before. The man gestured for me to step forward.
"I'm Captain Aldia," he said, voice steady. "Imperial appointed, but the townsfolk look to me for decisions. Let's see what you've brought."
I handed him the letter. He cracked the seal, eyes scanning the words with practiced ease. A small frown creased his brow, but he gave nothing else away.
"Hmm," he muttered, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into his coat. "Timely. Good. You've done your part."
That was it. No reward screen. No experience points flashing in front of my face. Just a nod, a quiet acknowledgment that I'd done the task asked of me.
And honestly? That was enough.
"You've been on the road long?" Aldia asked, studying me closer now.
"Since Solitude," I answered. "Passing through."
He nodded slowly, then gestured toward the door. "The inn's across the square. The Four Shields. Rest there before you push on. Roads are worse east of here—bandits, wolves, worse things. You'll want your strength."
I thanked him and turned back into the chill air.
The Four Shields Inn stood at the corner, its sign creaking gently in the wind. I pushed inside, welcomed by warmth and the low murmur of voices. A fire roared in the hearth, and the smell of roasted meat made my stomach tighten in hunger.
The innkeeper, a stout woman with dark hair pulled back, greeted me with a smile practiced for travelers. "Need a room? Meal? Or both?"
"Both," I said without hesitation. My coin pouch was lighter than I liked, but I'd earned this. After everything, I'd earned a night of rest.
She slid me a wooden key and set a plate of stew and bread on the counter. I carried it to a corner table, lowering myself into the chair with a sigh that slipped out louder than I intended. The stew was thick, heavy with root vegetables and venison, the bread dense but warm. Each bite was grounding. Real.
I let myself sit there longer than I should, staring into the fire as the weight of the road and the weight of choices I hadn't yet made pressed on me.
Solitude was behind me now. The sisters, Taarie and Endarie, their bickering voices and sharp looks—they were behind me too. I could still hear Taarie's words, though. Her promise. Her waiting. That amulet pressed cold against my chest beneath the fabric of my tunic, a reminder of what I had left behind.
Ahead lay Windhelm, the long road east, and beyond that, Solstheim. Miraak. Mora. Black Books. A path I couldn't turn away from, no matter how much the warmth of this fire tempted me.
I finished the meal, cleaned my bowl, and climbed the stairs to my rented room. The bed creaked as I sat, softer than the floorboards I'd grown used to. I leaned back, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, and let out a long breath.
For the first time in days, I allowed myself to close my eyes.
Tomorrow, the road would pull me onward.
But tonight—just tonight—I let myself rest.