Diary of a Confused Bounty Hunter

27^th of Rain’s Hand, 3E279

I did it. By Shor, I found him. Had that damned cult not been offering such a hefty sum for this man’s head, I would not have spent these past two months scouring all of The Reach. The target had flown east, all the way to Jehanna. Never before have I traveled so far for one contract, and I’m not sure I ever shall again.

By The Nine, look at me, can I still call myself an honest man? Here I am, embarking on some despicable journey just to take the life of some man who has never wronged me, a man I have never even met. And why? For money. I never listened to my father, I wasted all my money on booze and women, and gambled away the money I didn’t have. I cannot even find work in The Fighters’ Guild, or The Companions, they both tell me I have no honor and no right to call myself a warrior. I cannot deny that I agree. My family thinks I’m off guarding some merchant caravan. They don’t know. They don’t know that I have reduced myself to some crude assassin. My brother knew. I’m so sorry, Alorn, may you find eternal honor in Sovngarde. I know I won’t.

I arrived in Jehanna three days ago, and could find no trace of my target. There I go, using that word again. “Target”, what a way to dehumanize someone. He was most likely using an alias, the employers profiled him as extremely intelligent, he would not be making any dumb mistakes.

I received the fateful clue at the tavern yesterday. Two women behind me were having a discussion, and I could not help but overhear.

“Have you seen that horrid Dark Elf fellow that recently arrived?”

“Seen him? I smelled him far before I first saw him. That man reeks of something worse than death.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you come from a land covered in dust and Daedra. Bah, what a horrid people. Just what does Anton think he is doing by letting him stay in that inn? He is going to ruin his own reputation.”

I asked around about this Anton, he runs The Smiling Suthay Inn. Anton himself put his wallet before his morals, it was not difficult to get the information I needed. He went so far as to give the number of the room my target was staying in. I don’t understand how people could be comfortable sleeping in an inn run by this cretin.

My journeys had taught me a bit about the way of the lock, and, after a few minutes, I was inside. The target was not there, but that was understandable, the sun had only just begun to set. I set my things down, and resolved to wait for him to return. The next sequence of events was not at all what I had expected.

About three hours after entering the room, I heard footsteps outside. I readied myself with my shoulder forward and my other hand on my sword. The door opened, and, in one swift motion, I slammed it shut and shoved him against the wall. Two violently crimson eyes stared back at me. I had my man.

“Ralfar Henim, I do apologize, but you are wanted for dead. May you find peace in Sovngarde, or Oblivion, or whatever it is you Dunmer go.”

Before I could draw my sword, a bizarre pain shot through my right leg. In reaction, my gaze shot to the source, where I saw his hand burning brightly against my thigh. In my distraction, he pushed me back, and, with my leg unable to bear my weight from the searing pain, I fell flat on my back. I lay motionless, and accepted my fate. Bested by a Dunmer. I guess I never really was a Nord.

“I see no sadness in your eyes, Nord. Have you no family that will miss you? Have you no passions that will be left incomplete?”

“I have a family, but they will not miss me. I have passions, but they are unbecoming of a warrior. My life has been characterized by debauchery and unfaithfulness, death comes as a mercy. End me, before I shame myself further.”

“Get up, I have no interest in killing you. I have not killed anyone in quite a while, and I intend to make a habit of that.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “I apologize for your leg, that should not leave much of a wound. I had to, otherwise you would have killed me. Now, tell me, Nord, why so glum? Even if you mean nothing to anybody else, don’t you love yourself?”

“What have I to love? I sold my honor for alcohol and other carnal pleasures. I am no man, I am a monster. Why do you not kill me? I assaulted you, I am an enemy.”

“If I killed you, you would fail. You could be the one to succeed, and killing you would deprive this world of its chosen successor.”

“Your words elude me. Speak plainly, Dark Elf.”

“Right, I sometimes have trouble speaking to Believers. All of us live our so-called “lives” for one reason, to make something of ourselves. This world is empty and devoid of meaning, when we die, we vanish into nothingness, hardly different from living. Think of the millions of people who have died before today, think of just how few you knew. Nobody is remembered, and nobody matters. However, the goal is to matter. All of us are equal in Nothing, so one must step outside of Nothing to matter. However, what could be beyond that Nothing?”

“I do not think anything can be beyond it, isn’t that what makes it “nothing”? Your philosophy is wasted on me, it is better you leave me be.”

“These teachings are wasted on nobody, for it is anyone who may pass The Test. Now, that Nothing is infinite, so how may one pass through infinity?” He reached into a satchel he was wearing, and removed a wooden sphere that fit right in the palm of his hand. “This is an infinity.”

“No, that is a ball. It is not endless, I can see the entirety of it right in front of me.”

“Can you? Can you see the side opposite from you? For all you know, this object is endless. No matter how you orient yourself, you will never see this whole sphere at once, you will have to move.” He placed a finger at the object’s equator, and slowly traced a circle around it. “Once you reach the opposite side, you can no longer see the side you witnessed before. How do you know that side is still as you saw it? Think of a river, the water flows constantly. You may step in the river on Morndas, but on Tirdas, that will not be the same river. The water you stepped in on Morndas will have moved away, and new water will have taken its place. No man steps in the same river twice. And, if all things are united under Nothing, why should this sphere be any different? You can never reach the same point again by going continuously in one direction, despite what you have been told. This is The Lie.”

I took the sphere from him, and examined it. “I… think I understand, maybe.”

“The Nothing is as infinite as that sphere. Look beyond the Nothing, perceive The Lie, and there will you find meaning. Now, I doubt you are the only one they sent after me, I really must be going. Remember what I told you, live for that meaning. Again, I apologize for your leg, that should heal up fine. Goodbye, Nord, may you see The Lie wherever you go.” He caught himself at the door. “I never did get your name.”

“Soren. Soren Jurgikssen.” I had not heard my own name for a long time. It sounded foreign, like some alien language.

“Farewell, Soren. Find that meaning.”

And now I sit, alone, I have not left this room since that encounter. My leg has healed, like he said, but my mind feels like it has been beaten savagely. I have this damned sphere before me as I write. How is this simple wooden object infinite? It’s just a simple ball! And now I cannot stop trying to see it as infinite, I cannot stop trying to see it as what it is not. Perhaps he was right. I do not know. Perhaps I am unable to know. But one thing is clear to me: I have much to learn about this world before I lay down and rest. And I intend to do just that.

—Soren Jurgikssen