Fathers and Daughters (Revised)


          Adriane’s death has been all over the city. Rumors are spreading. It’s on the tongue of the innkeeper and the ears of all the guards.
It took me twenty minutes to walk from my home to HQ this morning. Everyone was out in the streets, talking to their neighbors. There were crowds of people gathered in front of Warmaiden. Some of them were there just to gossip. But, most people in Whiterun just wanted to pay respects to Adriane.
Even Farkas, the town idiot showed up. He gave quite a speech, too.
“I remember when I first met Adriane.” He began. “I had an assignment to clear out a cave infested with bears and spriggans. So I went to the Warmaiden to buy a steel hammer. Adriane was standing outside, working the smelter. I asked her if she could make a hammer fitting for a strong man like me. She got to work immediately.” He started to sob. “She even modified the hilt so that it would fit in my hands perfectly.” At this stage, it was more like wailing.
Belethor spoke up after Farkas. “She always saw herself as the second best smith in town. Though, that is not an insult, because Adriane always knew that Eorlund Gray-Mane was the best. The dear girl was so modest…”
          It was good until he started to talk about his General Goods. He went on about how Warmaiden undermined some of his business. Typical Belethor.
Sooner or later, this whole murder will come back to Darien and me. But for now, further investigation into the case has been postponed. Jarl Balgruuf, the mayor of this city, fear that the situation might be too sensitive. He’s right, too. Adriane was the daughter of Proventus Avenicci, the right hand man and advisor to the Jarl. When the guard brought news of the murder to Proventus, he broke into tears right in front of the whole court. Never before, have I seen Proventus in such a state. He collapsed to the floor, pounding on the cold granite of Whiterun and demanding the Nine Divines to return Adriane to him.
Poor Proventus, I can only imagine the pains that he suffers. To imagine losing a daughter is painful enough. I sometimes ask myself what I would do if I lose my dear Fiona. Regardless of how much thought and contemplation, I could never imagine a life without her. A life with my dear Fiona and beautiful Dora was all I wanted fourteen years ago. Before then, I would laugh at the idea of me walking a little girl to school. Now, not a day goes by that I don’t take Fiona to school in the morning, singing the Nordic rhymes, and picking the mountain flowers, along the way. A life with my dear Fiona and beautiful Dora was why I stashed my adventurer’s boots, and put on the working boots fourteen years ago.
4th of Last Seed

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