The sound of iron wheels grinding over stone rouses you from unconsciousness. You're sitting on coarse wood planks, hands bound behind your back. The carriage sways heavily as it climbs a winding mountain path, cold air seeping through the gaps in the wooden slats.

Snowflakes drift past, catching in the gray morning light. The crisp scent of pine mingles with the metallic tang of fear in your mouth. Beside you, a burly Nord with a shaggy beard studies you with piercing blue eyes.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," he says, his voice rough but not unkind. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

He nods toward a thin, furtive-looking man across from you who meets your gaze briefly before looking away. The carriage hits a particularly rough patch, sending a jolt through your bones as the Imperial driver snaps, "Shut up back there!"