It couldn’t be so easy, of course. Jaunty was still Jaunty, in this world or any other. It hadn’t taken long for Cuss to realize his nebulous “get Jaunty’s ear” plan would never pan out – the only people the fop would listen to were other nobles.

 

He sulked over a drink in the tavern, ignoring everyone around him. That is, until one of those everyones plopped himself down on the chair across from him.

 

“Hey, Dragonsnack! Why the long face?”

 

Bent’s familiar voice almost brought tears to Cuss’ eyes. His head snapped up and he just refrained from casting a flirty smile, twisting it at the last second to something more…well, manly. He hoped.

 

“Hello, Bent. I’m Cuss now, if you hadn’t heard.”

 

“Pfft. You’ll always be Dragonsnack to me.” Bent leaned forward and peered at Cuss. “How did you know?”

 

Cuss frowned. “Know what?”

 

“About the dragons. You mentioned them when we first met. Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about - it’s why I call you Dragonsnack, for Divines’ sake!”

 

Cuss sighed. “I come from the future, except I was a woman and you and I were lovers and the commanding officers of the Stormcloak army. We were about to take Solitude and win this war when we, along with the rest of the world, were wiped out by dragons.”

 

A long pause, then Bent burst out in loud guffaws that rang through the room. “That was a good one! Hey Wooly, you need to hear this! Ahh.” Bent’s guffaws settled into chuckles as he sat back in his chair. “You have a great imagination, Dragonsnack. It’s fine,” he added as Wooly pulled out the chair next to him and sat. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious.”

 

Wooly looked from one to the other. “Curious about what?”

 

Cuss could not keep the bitterness from his voice. Not that he really tried. “About what your uncle Benrad aka Jaunty is going to do with all the money from the mines he plans to take over for your family.”

 

“Oh, you heard that rumor?” Wooly laughed. “There’s nothing to it. Benrad is just here because he is the youngest of the brothers and one of them had to join.”

 

Cuss seethed but did not respond.

 

Bent took a swing of his drink then tilted his head at Cuss. “You’re in his company, right? How is that going?”

 

“Very poorly. He has me shooting a bow because I’m ‘too short to be a swordsman.’”

 

“What? What a fool! Has he seen you fight?”

 

“No, he just assigns roles based on his own arbitrary measures and there’s no way to prove otherwise because we don’t train.”

 

“What do you mean, you don’t train?”

 

“Just what I said. We guard the walls for six hours, then our day is done. We don’t train or do group exercises to learn to work as a unit. If we ever get into a real battle, we will be massacred.”

 

Bent shook his head. “Wow!”

 

Wooly looked disturbed, which was just fine with Cuss, who tried not to glare at the traitor as he continued, “He’s even lazy about names. I’m ‘Cuss’ because it’s the second half of ‘Marcus.’ No thought put into anything with him. Except how to grab those mines, of course.”

 

Wooly’s disturbed look turned into a flash of anger. “I told you, he isn’t…”

 

“And I’m telling you he is.” Cuss matched Wooly’s anger, then added fuel to make it brighter. The room became silent around them as Cuss mentally pleaded with Wooly to attack. He had been wanting to kick that sanctimonious Grey-Mane ass for weeks!

 

“That’s enough, gentlemen.” Bent pressed cold drinks into each of their hands, using the opportunity to place his arms between them. “Dragonsnack, we can’t know Jaunty’s true intentions until he shows them. Until then, he is your commanding officer, so you owe him the benefit of the doubt. And Wooly…I’ve seen this man fight. Trust me – you do not want any part of him.”

 

“Bah!” Wooly snatched up his drink and left the table. Cuss did not watch him go.

 

“You’re pretty bent out of shape over this.”

 

Cuss snickered. “Nah, that’s your name. I just want to cuss him out.” They laughed together and Cuss took a large gulp of ale and the tension passed.

 

“How do the other members of the company feel about all this?”

 

Cuss shrugged. “That’s the worst part – they all seem to like it. Work – and I use that term loosely – for six hours then have the rest of the day off? It’s a great deal!”

 

Bent snorted. “For a miner or a barmaid, perhaps. That’s no way to run a military unit.”

 

“Exactly. I have tried to arrange training on our plentiful downtime but only a handful showed up to the first one and then, after Jaunty caught wind of it and went on a rant about it because it was ‘subverting his authority,’ that stopped.” Another shrug. “So I do my own training. It had been at least a decade since I last drew a bow, so I practice that.” As the new calluses on his fingers could attest. Basic weapon training to a certain competency level had been part of his early lessons, but he had hated the bow most of all. It was easier without breasts, though, he had to admit. “And, of course, my mother would kill me if I didn’t do my sword training daily.”

 

“Does she live around here?”

 

“No, she’s in Hammerfell.”

 

“Then how would she know?”

 

Cuss laughed, both at the question and at the echo of conversations long past. “She would know.”

 

Bent shrugged. “As you say. We’re going on our first patrol in a couple days – it will be good to get out of the city.”

 

“Heading into the flats?”

 

“Aye. How did you guess?”

 

Cuss shrugged. “Only three ways to go. I took a stab.”

 

“Well, as always, your stab was dead on. Aye, the flats then up into the Rift, then loop back along Darkwater.”

 

“Watch the skies in the flats. And be careful on the ridge – I heard there is an Imperial company skulking about around there.” Of course, that assumed Bent’s first patrol would match up with Cuss’ previous life. The time difference between the two already made his head hurt and this just conflagrated things – it was still over a month before they should have even been in the Stormcloaks and then there had been a nearly three-month period of training before their first patrol. It was as if this new world, too, was in a hurry to finish this war. It was the one thing New Skyrim and Cuss agreed upon.

 

And if that was the case, he realized with a dawning thought, perhaps there was a way for Cuss to help after all. There had been about a year and a half’s delay from the time she joined until the time the war finally got started, and the catalyst for that had been the finding of the Jagged Crown. The claiming of it had pushed Stormcloak recruitment sky high and Cuss knew where it was. Of course, no one would believe him, but that didn’t matter – all he had to do was get the whisper of its location into Galmar’s ears; Ulfric’s second-in-command would take care of the rest.

 

“Dragonsnack! Did you fall asleep?”

 

Cuss shook himself out of his reverie and gave a sheepish laugh. “Sorry about that. I got lost in thought for a moment. Say, I heard a bard sing a song a few days ago. Something about a jagged crown or something? Have you heard of that?”

 

Bent had, of course, as any good Nord would, and as he filled Cuss in on the details of King Borgas and the Wild Hunt, Cuss smiled. It was a small step forward, but at least it was a step. Now he just needed to find a way to take another.

 

 

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