are chartered by a Great House. The innkeeper told me a Hlaalu ferry arrived from the mainland with a mixed complement of Imperial guard and hired mercenaries - were I staying here, that would be interesting news.
Supposedly there is a merchant from Skyrim scheduled to arrive tomorrow or the next day on their return to Skyrim, which sounds promising.
An addendum:
I feel as though I am living a bedtime story. I decided a name for the suit of armor - I rushed out of the inn, a bottle of Cyrodiilic
brandy in hand. I hurried down to the docks: nothing but wooden hulls, laying at odds with the wooden piers in my whirling vision, punctuated with rolls of canvas rigged high in the air, heavy grain slumping low in its burlap, and nought but confused faces looking back at me. I hurried my way up a side street away from the inn, crossed an alley to another, and erupted into the square at the foot of the castle, full of a large statue of a dragon in free-fall, a twist of tail and flailing wings and at the tip of its snarling snout, the Orsimer guard, arms folded around the spear leaning in the crook of her neck, standing wide-stanced in the pink-orange tile. I hurried to her,