There was no autumn in Skyrim. There wasn’t much of a summer, and what little good weather there was gave way to winter early in Frostfall. In Cyrodiil, Selene had been used to celebrating her birthday, which was 11 Last Seed, in reasonably warm weather. This year, however, a bitter wind blew across Jorrvaskr’s training yard and sprinkles of rain turned to sleet, stinging her skin like tiny razor blades.
“You know what Jorrvaskr needs?” she commented as she and Farkas sparred.
Selene walked through the door into a sprawling room with a fire pit surrounded on three sides by a big, U-shaped table and space at either end of the hall for socializing or resting. The crowd gathered at one end didn’t appear to be resting, though; they were watching a fight. Then again, maybe this was how the Companions relaxed. Njada duked it out with a male dark elf as the others egged one or the other on. They were pretty evenly matched, but it appeared Njada had the advantage. Selene watched the bout, which carried on for several minutes, until a rough-looking Nord noticed her and came over.
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