Hadvar looked despondently at the row of prisoners in front of him, but kept his expression neutral. It pained him to execute his kin and compatriots, for only declaring the faith and god they shared on both sides of the conflict. He called out the names on his list, noting with an aching heart that Ralof of Riverwood was among those called.
'Oh, Ralof…. Why did it come to this?' he asked himself. Such was the ugly reality of war, childhood friends separated and forced to strike each other down. He looked to the last prisoner, the odd one out. He was a Khajiit, wearing white robes, standing much more relaxed than any of the other prisoners. He carried with him an aura of power and confidence, with dark glittering eyes hidden beneath his hood, tail sweeping slowly from side to side.
Hadvar was not entirely surprised when the unknown Khajiit announced himself as the Arch-Mage. While the others might protest, he could feel the sheer presence of the Khajiit. He smirked inwardly when the cruel slave driver he had as superior was humiliated and reprimanded in public. His platoon had suffered enough under her.
After the Arch-Mage demonstrated his power, burning his bindings in a flash, and was duly freed by the General, Hadvar noticed the Khajiit wasn't really paying attention to what was going on. He kept looking anxiously at his surroundings, and that was when the first roar was heard. Hadvar's blood froze at the sound, a primal fear washing over him. He almost laughed out loud when it was dismissed as nothing. He noticed Ako was staring intently at the sky.
When the earth shuddered as the dragon landed, it felt as if time itself stood still, no sounds coming from anywhere, the cruel eyes of the dragon and the fear of the people the only things that mattered. It was shattered by a single scream of "DRAGON!", and all Oblivion broke loose. The crowd scattered, captives and captors alike running for the towers of the town.
Yet the Khajiit stood still, staring at the dragon on the tower. The cat then appeared to have realized what was going on, as the dragon roared to the sky and balls of fire started falling. He ran towards the tower, throwing up wards as the falling balls of fire came too close to him. Hadvar lost sight of the strange Khajiit as he found his legs and fled towards the inn, praying fervently he would live to see the night.
As he rounded the corner, he heard the Khajiit yell loudly from the tower's direction, "Get to cover! Don't bother with fighting, the dragon is all but invincible!" Hadvar saw ahead of him an old friend of his father's, Gunnar, crouching behind a demolished house. In the road he saw a young boy on his knees, next to his father who was lying on the ground, legs pulverized and shattered by falling rubble.
"Haming! Come here, boy!" he heard Gunnar call.
The dragon gave a roar somewhere above Hadvar as he heard footsteps crunching behind him. The earth shook as the dragon came in to land behind the mangled man and his son.
With fear in his voice, Hadvar yelled to the boy, "Haming! Get over here, NOW!" Hadvar watched in horror as the dragon opened its maw, a glow forming in the back of its throat.
Haming started stumbling towards cover, still unable to take his eyes off the dragon or his father, lying helpless at the dragon's mercy. Just as the dragon took a deep breath and let loose a roiling blast of fire, ending the suffering of the man on the ground, a glimmering flash of blueish-white tackled Haming out of the way and into cover. To Hadvar's surprise, the flash was the Arch-Mage, having magically shielded himself and the boy from the fire, although the stench of singed fur was evident.
As the dragon landed on the tower, Ako felt an intense pang of familiarity and longing overtake him, in addition to the churning of his soul. 'Why do I get these strange feelings? It's never happened before!' He had no doubt that the dragon was responsible for the churning feelings, and was perplexed as to why it did it. 'Where in Oblivion did it come from?! Weren't they extinct?'
The dragon roared to the skies, and Ako could've sworn there were words hidden in the roar. The heavens turned from clear blue skies to ominous, swirling storm clouds within seconds. When balls of flame started falling from the sky, Ako knew it was time to move. He ran towards the tower, keeping up magical wards to shield him from the fiery explosions as the meteors smashed to the ground. He threw a couple of his own ice spikes at the dragon, who shrugged them off like a mammoth might shake off a fly. Ako was stunned by this, and yelled loudly to warn the rest of the survivors, "Get to cover! Don't bother with fighting, the dragon is all but invincible!" 'It should at least have noticed those ice spikes… One of them alone was enough to kill most mortals,' he thought to himself.
A bit further up the road he saw a man lying, trapped by falling rubble. As he neared, he saw List-man and another, older Nord crouching behind the ruins of a house. When the dragon landed, preparing to torch the child standing over his father, Ako took off at a run, hoping to still save the kid. He immediately cast fire resistance on himself and the boy, and dove into the shattered doorway just as the dragon roared his flames. Again, Ako thought he heard words, words spoken by a familiar voice, through the fiery roar as the flames scorched across his back.
The dragon took off in search of more victims to scorch, as Ako looked over the boy, healing the scrapes and bruises that had come as they dove into cover. He dusted himself off, annoyed by the ashes that used to be his staff.
"Arch-Mage? You saved him!" came the older man's words as he and Hadvar cautiously crept into the ruins. Ako merely nodded in reply.
"Gunnar, take care of the boy. We have to get to the general, find out what to do," Hadvar said, looking at Ako and urging him to follow.
After a few steps, Ako turned and yelled at Gunnar, "Get out of here as soon as possible! You won't be safe anywhere nearby!" He then jogged after Hadvar. They soon reached the biggest group of soldiers, where Ako saw there were a few mages throwing fireballs at the dragon, along with archers. 'Those fools are just bouncing their arrows off the dragon… and the fireballs won't even heat a scale.' "Get out of here while you can, fools! Run! The dragon will be your end!" he shouted in vain.
As the dragon swooped down, grabbing a mage and an archer in its claws and sending them flying high into the distance, Ako heard a horn sounding the retreat. "Into the keep, men! We're leaving!" the order came in a strong voice, likely General Tullius'. Hadvar immediately switched direction, with Ako tagging along, sending light healing spells to those he could.
When they reached the keep, Ako saw a Nord clad in Stormcloak armour running from a different direction. It was the man who had sat across him on the carriage. "Ralof, you damned traitor!" a very angry Hadvar suddenly yelled.
Ralof retorted, "We're escaping. You're not stopping us now."
"Oh yeah? Says who?" said Hadvar, drawing his sword as he went.
Ralof turned towards him, axe in hand, just as Ako sighed in exasperation. 'How can these fools be so stupid? A dragon attacks and they still want to kill each other.' He decided to play peacemaker until they could get out of danger.
"Listen, you fools, the dragon will burn you both if we don't get out of here. Kill each other once we're safe. So get into the keep!" Ako yelled with all his authority. Ralof and Hadvar glared at each other and started off towards different entrances of the keep.
Just then the dragon swooped low across, sending the three of them scampering into the nearest entrance. As they entered the keep, both men immediately continued their glaring contest. In utter frustration, Ako said, "Can't you at least do something other than glare at each other? It is fine if you hate each other, but don't make other people suffer as well. Now, let's get out of here. You do not want to piss me off as well." He stalked off towards the door leading deeper into the keep.
As they left the first room, which turned out to be the local guard barracks, they came upon a raised gate blocking the way. Ako heard voices coming from the room beyond. He looked back at the two Nords, who were still acting like children. He sighed, and said in a low voice, "Listen, there are people up ahead. Whoever it is might not be interested in peace. So please, convince them to stay their weapons if you can. Let's try and keep the calm. The dragon has claimed enough lives."
The Nords looked uncertainly at Ako, and hesitantly nodded their assent. Ako looked back ahead again and pulled the chain to drop the gate. As soon as it dropped, he saw two Imperials suddenly jump up, weapons at the ready. Ako narrowed his eyes when he saw one of them was Captain-bitch. He still had a score to settle with her.
"Prisoners! Get them!" she yelled as she saw who it was. She started moving forward, the other Imperial looking hesitant and staying back.
Hadvar hurriedly came to the front as Ralof raised his axe and Ako lifted his hands, fire rolling from claw to claw. "Please, stand down. I have no wish to fight, and the prisoners agreed to peace until we can escape."
The captain scoffed. "As if I believe that. You always did have a soft spot for the rebel cause, Hadvar. I was wondering when you would defect." She looked at Hadvar in utter contempt, spitting at his feet in disgust.
Ako decided he really had enough of her. Stepping forward, he glared at her with his dark eyes, a dangerous anger glittering in them. "Are you that foolish, that even with the dragon about, you still want to kill innocents? Put away that weapon, or I will make your life very unpleasant. You are lucky that I haven't sent you to Oblivion for smashing in my skull."
Captain-bitch flinched slightly under his harsh glare, but spat out, "I'll kill you!", and charged Ako. She swung her sword forward, looking to run the unarmoured Khajiit through. She never got within striking distance, as a green light flashed from Ako's hand and a sudden spasm went through her, every muscle coiling as if turned to stone, slowly toppling her to the ground.
Ako gave a hollow laugh and bent down, mocking in a soft growl, "It is unwise to challenge the Arch-Mage, jekosiit. Now, you will remain paralyzed for a few hours. If I ever see you again without a sincere apology on your lips, I'll let you sample the hospitality of the Daedra in Coldharbour." Her eyes widened in fear as he stood up.
Turning towards the others, he said simply, "Let's get on with it. Come along if you will. As long as you keep the peace, you won't end up like her." He walked over to the gate leading deeper into the keep, with the others stalking warily behind him. The second Imperial seemed to have opted to join them in the truce, having decided being left behind was not a great idea.
The group of soldiers following Ako grumbled colourful curses as they dispatched the last of the spiders in the nest. After moving through the keep and the cave system following it, the motley group had grown to include 9 Stormcloaks and 8 Imperials, with Ako the odd one out. A fragile truce was kept in place with not so subtle threats from the Khajiit Arch-Mage, who was thoroughly fed up with the day's proceedings. Nearing the exit of the cave, Ako halted suddenly, putting up a hand to stop the rest.
"There is a bear up ahead. I'll keep her docile, the rest of you move past as fast as you can." Ako tentatively walked forward, sending soothing magic to the sleeping bear, hoping to refrain from killing anything but spiders. 'That was fun though… sorry spider carcasses turning into torches,' he mused to himself as the last few soldiers moved past the sleeping bear.
Passing through the cave mouth into the mid-afternoon sunshine, Ako saw the two groups of soldiers warily eying each other, the distrust hanging heavy in the air. At least they weren't killing each other just yet. "What's the nearest town or settlement from here?" he asked the group, hoping to resolve the day without any bloodshed.
Hadvar answered, "Riverwood. It is about 8 hours walking north from here. But it is small. It won't easily support a group this big." He looked pointedly at the Stormcloaks across him.
Ralof spoke up, "Hadvar's right. No more than eight or so can be hosted there. And it is just within the borders of Whiterun…"
Having spoken with Ralof and Hadvar during the escape through the keep, Ako had learned that Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm had stirred up a rebellion while Ako was south. The eastern holds of the Rift, the Pale, Winterhold and Eastmarch had rebelled against the Empire, which had the loyalty of Hjaalmarch, Falkreath, the Reach and Haafingar. Whiterun, the central trading hub of Skyrim, was still neutral.
Thinking a bit, tail lashing from side to side, Ako said, "I have an idea. Hadvar and Ralof will come with me to warn Riverwood and Whiterun. The Imperials should move west to Falkreath and warn them. Stormcloaks, spread the news via the Rift, please. That way everyone can stay out of each other's way and a suitable warning is spread out." He looked over them expectantly, a twitching tail betraying his irritation.
A mumbled assent came from most of them, accompanying the grumbling over the 'cat' that gave the orders. Slowly the soldiers moved off, Imperials heading west and the Stormcloaks east.
As the sun started to set, Ako, Hadvar and Ralof had made good time north, dropping in altitude as well. They made camp under an overhang, which promised to keep out most, if not all, of the wind. "I have a tent and two bedrolls for the night, and you don't have anything… but we'll have to make do," said Ako, more to himself than anyone else.
After a light dinner, sharing the little food that Ako carried in his pack, they sat around the fire, watching Ako let the fire dance around his arms, creating various shapes and forms. At the moment, it was a fiery wolf chasing after a rabbit, nimbly dancing around trees, all formed out of the fire being manipulated by Ako. Hadvar and Ralof both looked thoroughly uncomfortable with the magic display, but not daring to interrupt the show and risk the Khajiit's anger. Finally, Ako noticed their discomfiture, and sent the rabbit and wolf running into the main fire, the trees falling like those in a plantation. "Sorry," he said somewhat sheepishly, "it's too much fun to not do it. And fun is definitely a rarity amongst the paperwork of Arch-Mage." He turned away from the fire to stare up at the stars.
"Hey, you two are local to this area, right?" he asked the two soldiers a while later. Hadvar looked briefly at Ralof on hearing the question, then turned towards Ako.
"Yes," Hadvar sighed, "we both grew up in Riverwood." 'That explains a lot of the hostility…' Ako realized. They must have been childhood friends.
"Can you tell me how the night will be then? Weather-wise and if a watch will be necessary?" Ako asked.
Ralof answered, "In Riverwood, next to the river, it would have been chilly. Up here, not so much. And it won't rain this early in the season." Ako nodded at the words.
Hadvar added, "I'm unsure about the watch, but I've been taught 'always better to be safe than sorry.'" Ako again nodded.
"Wise that you've been taught like that. I'll take first watch then. You two get some sleep, you look like you need it." Ako didn't much mind taking the watch, his mind was too busy pondering the questions that the dragon's appearance brought with it. As the others bade him goodnight, he dug out his old journal and writing utensils. A small, conjured magelight provided the light for him as he wrote and sketched what he could remember of the dragon.
Curiosity, an incessant curiosity, had always been a weakness of Ako's. If he discovered something he didn't know, he was liable to spend the next week finding out and researching everything regarding the unknown subject. After today, dragons definitely occupied the slot of unknown subject. He rifled through his mental list of books in the Arcanaeum, the vast archives of the College, to see if there was something regarding dragons. He remembered them being mentioned in a renowned work on enchanting, but nothing regarding the dragons themselves.
Of more immediate concern was the way something inside him reacted to the dragon's presence. Ako was sure he had never felt anything like it before, and the pressing familiarity of the dragon was unnerving. He had never seen a dragon before, so why did he find the dragon so familiar? Sighing, he looked to the moons, noticing that it must be nearing midnight.
Stowing away the journal, Ako dug out his extra robes and spread them on the ground. The enchantments on his normal robes would keep him warm so that coverings weren't needed. Lifting his hand, he threw a ball of purple and black fire to the ground. When it hit, a portal formed and an imposing figure in heavy, black and red armour adorned with spikes stepped out. Ako had conjured a Dremora Lord to take the rest of the night's watch.
"Kynmarcher Amkaos," Ako greeted in the harsh, guttural sounds of the Daedric language.
"Arch-Mage Ako. You called?" the Dremora replied, using the same language.
"Yes, stand watch over me and my camp until sunrise, would you? And explain to those two", pointing at the sleeping forms of Hadvar and Ralof, "that they don't have to fear if they happen to wake up. If they attack you, don't kill them." Chuckling slightly, Ako went on, "You can teach them a lesson, though. Use the common language then. Oh, and wake me up if there are more than 4 adversaries."
"It will be done, Ako."
Ako found himself high above the world in his dreams. In his childhood, he often had this dream, hovering weightless, high above his world, Nirn. Soaring between the cliffs and rocky steppes of High Rock, the Breton land gleamed, beautiful in its ruggedness. The sands of the Alik'r shone yellow like the sun itself. Moving south, Cyrodiil, a steaming rainforest gleaming like an emerald, Lake Rumare a glittering sapphire. Morrowind, the gem of the east, green and lush on the mainland, Vvardenfell a painted green on grey. The bogs and fens of Black Marsh didn't feature, a mere side note. A long time was spent hovering above the deserts and rainforests of Elsweyr, home to the Khajiit, his race. Yet, somehow, he felt he wasn't truly a part of them.
Valenwood and Alinor, the far southwest, passing quickly, as if unimportant. Racing back, across Lake Rumare, an empty island in the centre. Going north, he saw the snowy peaks and rivers of Skyrim, his new home, the homeland of the Nords. Here, it felt like home. Safe. Passing over the Jeralls, coming up on Helgen, a crimson-eyed, coal-black dragon laying waste to the town. The dragon turned to look at Ako, leering as it spoke words with unknown meanings, "Lost funt! Lein los dii!" With fear coiling in his heart, a blast of flame sent Ako's world into black.
Ako awoke with a start, breathing rapidly. He calmed down as he saw Amkaos standing silent vigil, seemingly oblivious to Ako's predicament. Ako drifted back into an uneasy sleep, praying that no more nightmares would interrupt his night.
Ako woke to the sounds of clanging metal, followed by moans of pain. Sunlight filtered through the trees from the east. Sitting up, he noticed a smirking Amkaos standing over the groaning forms of Hadvar and Ralof, both clutching their stomachs in agony. Chuckling softly, he got up and started healing them.
"You did not listen when he told you to stop, did you?" Ako asked with a grin. Looking at Amkaos, he said, "Thank you for not killing them. I have no further need of you for the moment. You can go back to Oblivion." With a nod, the Dremora vanished in black and purple flames.
Hadvar and Ralof got up, eying the spot where the Dremora stood with distrust. "Well? Did you listen or not?" Ako asked as he pulled the last bits of preserved food from his pack, storing his extra robes as he did so. The Nords looked abashed at each other, and shook their heads. Ako grinned at them, saying, "Then you got what you deserved, nothing less, and nothing more. Come, we better get a move on if we want to make it without having to hunt."
As they ate the dried meats and fruits that Ako carried, Hadvar asked, "Ako, why do you summon demons? I know he didn't harm us… well, not more than we deserved, but still. Haven't you heard the stories?" A fearful expression was firmly plastered on his face as he talked.
The Khajiit laughed at that, and answered, "Have I heard the stories? Yes, I got most of the stories from the 'demons', as you call them, themselves. I summon them because they are reliable help, and good company on the road. They come without complaints because they deem me, as a powerful mage, worthy of their respect, and by extension, their assistance. As for what they do, they're not that different from mortals. They simply followed orders in the horrors of the past. As soldiers you two should understand that. As a race, they prize honour and loyalty above all else, so the vilification they receive is unjustified in my opinion. Even if their sense of honour is different from the mortals'."
The two Nords looked utterly unconvinced, sharing a distrust of any magic seemingly inherent to the Nordic race. As they packed away the tent, Ralof asked, "What language did you speak with it?"
Ako glared at Ralof, stating, "Amkaos is a 'he'. He is an individual as much as you are, and worthy of your respect. As for the language, it was Daedric. I have always been adept at languages, and I find Daedric easier than he finds common, so we use Daedric to communicate."
The rest of the journey to Riverwood proceeded in relative silence, interrupted only by a couple of wolf packs who fled when a pack member burst into flames. A small village came into view just after midday. A low wall surrounded a handful of thatched houses. On the river's edge, a waterwheel and mill turned lazily. A blacksmith's forge stood empty on the porch of the first house. A few children were chasing each other in the streets, a large wolfhound bounding after them. It looked like an idyllic country village, perfect to hide away in if one needed to disappear.
A bit deeper in, an old woman was gesticulating wildly to a man standing in front of her, loud enough that Ako could hear the conversation going on. Apparently, the old woman had seen the dragon flying west the previous day and was annoyed that no one would believe her. Ako and his companions had decided to keep the news of the dragon quiet as far they could, for fear of instilling a panic in the small-town folk. They chose beforehand to inform Ralof's sister, who owned the mill, and Hadvar's uncle, the village's blacksmith.
Hadvar knocked on the house with the forge, while Ralof moved to a house behind the first row, next to a small field with crops and a few livestock. Ako meanwhile, went on to the biggest building in the village, which had a sign declaring it to be the "Sleeping Giant Inn." As Ako stepped into the inn, a middle-aged Breton woman greeted him. He was surprised to see a Breton in a small Skyrim town outside of the Reach. It was unusual, but not unheard of. She stood tall and proud, quite unusual for an innkeeper. Her eyes held a ferocity that would have impressed Ako, if he hadn't stared into the dragon's the day before. "Welcome to the Sleeping Giant, friend. Anything I can get you, even if it is still early in the day?" she asked.
"A room for the night, food and directions to a place where I can restock, if you would, thanks," Ako answered after a few seconds of distracted musing about his plans and the possible history of the woman before him.
"That'll be ten septims for the room, talk with Orgnar about the food. You'll probably be best served getting supplies from Lucan at the trader, just across the road from here," she said, pointing in the direction they came from when they entered the town.
Ako nodded some thanks, digging out the money and exchanging it for a key to a room on the left. Now that he sorted out the greetings, he took a proper look at the interior of the inn. Travelling the length of Tamriel had made him rather partial to the comforts and quirks of each inn. This one was different from the narrow, stifling and cramped inns he encountered in Cyrodiil, being of an open design, centred around a large fire burning in a shallow pit. This made sense to Ako, given the renowned cold of Skyrim, even during Midyear. A few bench tables stood off to the side, with an alchemy lab tucked into the corner. The bar itself hosted a big Nord, presumably Orgnar, and a variety of food and drink. Behind the bar a couple of pheasants and rabbits hung, strung up for preservation amongst garlic, elves' ear and frost mirriam bundles.
Storing his pack in his room, Ako went out to find the trader to restock provisions for the road to Whiterun. As he stepped onto the porch of the two-story building, he found himself admiring the peace and simplicity that seemed to be everywhere in the tiny village. 'If I ever want to or need to disappear, this place looks ideal for it.'
Opening the door, ringing the bell that hung above it in the empty room, his attention was immediately drawn to an intricate ornament on the front desk, solid gold in the shape of a dragon's claw. Elaborate tracings covered the claw, bearing ancient motifs. An Imperial man came down the stairs in the corner, looking pleased to see a potential customer.
"The Riverwood Trader is open for business, and we welcome your custom, friend! I'm Lucan, the owner of the store. Now, what can I help you with?" he asked Ako, who struggled to tear his eyes away from the claw.
"Ah, uhm… dried meats and fruit to restock a traveller's pack, if you please? Some health and magicka potions wouldn't be amiss too," Ako replied, somewhat flustered by Lucan's sudden appearance, and still fascinated by the claw.
"Sure thing. Give me a few minutes to get it out." Lucan looked at Ako, who devoted all of his attention to the claw on his front desk, and asked, "Beautiful thing, isn't it? I found it in the attic a few months after we moved in. Haven't found out what it is, though. Helps with business a bit." Ako looked up at the man, a sudden grin spreading across his muzzle.
"I would like to buy it from you. How much?" Ako asked.
Lucan looked a bit stunned, but recovered quickly and replied, "I'm sorry, but it is not for sale. Sentimental value and all that."
"I'm serious. I'm researching dragons, and something like this would be invaluable to my research if I could study it. Please? I'm willing to pay you well for it," Ako pleaded. His plea wasn't quite truthful, but he wanted the claw, needed it. He had no idea why; it was similar to the feelings that occurred when the dragon showed up at Helgen.
"Like I said, sorry, but it is not for sale. It has too much sentimental value," Lucan said uncomfortably while taking off the supplies from the shelves. Putting it all on the desk, he held out his hand for Ako to hand over the payment. Sighing softly, seeing that he wouldn't get the claw he wanted, Ako dug out the payment and left the store with a curt thanks to Lucan.
Stepping out into the sunlight, Ako again admired the sheer natural beauty of the town. The river running clean water from Falkreath's Lake Ilinalta, running north to become the White River, dawdling its way east, joining with the Yorgrim River at Windhelm to finally spill into the Sea of Ghosts in the far northeast of Skyrim. Ako was sure half of all the waterfalls in Tamriel were on this river of Jerall snowmelt. At the town of Riverwood, rapids gave way to calm, broad waterways, teeming with salmon and other fish. Ako suddenly realized he was still covered in the dust, ash and soot of Helgen's destruction. The rapids would provide a welcome shower.
After storing his supplies in his room, Ako walked upriver to find a secluded rapid, large boulders hiding him from eyes in the town. Submerging himself, he took a good look at the healing scars left by the previous day's excitement. Lightly built, 5'9 tall, weighing only 140 pounds, led to many people in Skyrim dismissing him as a weakling, despite having a wiry strength that surprised even himself. Pure white fur covered most his body, thicker than most Khajiit's thanks to living in Winterhold for the better part of 15 years. The white fur was marked on his upper back, tail and arms by a pattern of flaming tendrils, intricately tangling, flaring and intertwining in flames of light gold and dark blue. Ako's robes were embroidered with a similar pattern. Whilst growing up, he was often ostracized and scorned by the other Khajiit for being different. It didn't bother him too much, but he took to wearing clothing that covered the marks completely to avoid the pestering questions that came with it.
Without his hood covering them, Ako's eyes were liable to draw more attention than the markings or fur combined. He had slitted pupils, like many Khajiit did, but instead of normal vertical slits, Ako's were slanted diagonally. And the midnight blue, gold-flecked colour of his irises was unheard of. Some of the older Khajiit would flinch if Ako walked past them, fearing his appearance to be a portent of the future. Many of the other races, too, scurried away in fear – or was it awe? – whenever they got a glimpse of his eyes. That did bother Ako, since he rather liked helping people.
Finished with his relaxing under the small waterfall, Ako readied two spells he developed personally to deal with wet fur. Having abnormally long fur meant lots of laughter if he was ever to dry himself with a towel. The sight of a very fluffy Arch-Mage did not sit well with him. Especially if he was the Arch-Mage in question. First, he cast a spell that froze the water on the wet fur completely in the sleeked down position that wet fur usually is. Then, he cast another that evaporated the ice, but left the fur itself stiff enough to remain in position, which would warm up relatively quickly without making Ako look like a ripe dandelion.
Later that evening, Ralof and Hadvar joined Ako at the inn for a few drinks. As it was, Ako wanted to talk to them about the war and find out exactly what had caused it. Hadvar began to tell the story, "This war has been coming a long time. You know about the Great War, right?"
Ako nodded. He knew a lot about the war, in which the Thalmor of the Summerset Isles all but smashed the Empire. The Emperor rejected an ultimatum at the start of the war, calling the demands preposterous and an outrage. The response was swift, and brutal. Armies swept in from the south and the west, with Leyawiin being the first city to fall in the war. After 5 long years of war, during which the Empire's capital, the Imperial City, was sacked and then retaken in battles filled with atrocities, the Empire finally surrendered. Ako had been but three years old when the war passed through Leyawiin, but the scorched buildings, burnt-out husks that used to be homes, and the large graveyard stayed there throughout his childhood, an all too frequent reminder of the war.
Hadvar continued, "Many people were outraged when the White-Gold Concordat was signed at the surrender, especially since it was to nearly the exact same terms as the ultimatum that had been rejected. Here in Skyrim, there has been unrest in the Reach for ages. During the war, the Reachmen or Forsworn took advantage of the Legion's attention being elsewhere and took Markarth. They held it for two years."
Here Ralof picked up the story. "Since many Nords were very upset that Talos worship was banned, the deposed Jarl of Markarth, Hrofdir, offered to lift the ban on Talos worship in Markarth for those willing to fight alongside him when he retook Markarth. Ulfric Stormcloak was one of the most prominent people to take him up on that offer, forming his own militia. Using the Thu'um, he broke down the gates and liberated the city. But Hrofdir betrayed the agreement when the Thalmor ordered the militia to be arrested. Most of the militia was let go after a short stint, but Ulfric, son of the Jarl of Windhelm, remained under arrest for several years." Ralof looked pensive as he finished, anger evident.
Hadvar picked up again, "He became bitter, and his hatred for the Thalmor, and the Empire that betrayed him grew deep. Two or so months ago Ulfric murdered – "
"It wasn't murder! He challenged Torygg per the ancient customs of our land and defeated him in fair combat!" Ralof interjected violently.
"Killing a lad barely out of his teens with the Voice, being a veteran soldier yourself, is anything but fair!" Hadvar retorted hotly.
"Enough," Ako cut across the two Nords. "Whether by murder or duel, we have a dead Torygg and living Stormcloak. You can argue about the morality later. So I assume that signified the start of this war?" he asked Hadvar.
"Yes. There hasn't been much action since, just mobilising the legions and some sabre-rattling. I would have thought it was over yesterday, but, you saw what happened," Hadvar said morosely. Ako could only agree in silence.
As the evening grew late, more of the village's inhabitants entered the inn in search of relaxation and company. Ako withdrew to a secluded corner and carried on with his sketching and scribbling in his journal, a magelight providing light. A sudden movement near him made him jump and snap his journal closed, the magelight growing brighter in response. Looking over, he saw the Breton innkeeper staring at him, still holding the authoritative posture that intrigued Ako earlier in the day. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded in a harsh voice.
Surprised, Ako decided to see if he could get some answers. "Nothing you need to worry about," he replied in a haughty, dismissive tone. The Breton's eyes flared in anger at the answer.
"I demand you tell me what you were doing here in my inn. Give me that!" she snapped indignantly. Swiping Ako's notebook out of his hands, she tried to open it. Ako only looked on with a highly bemused expression. When she finally gave up on trying to open it, the book having stubbornly refused to even budge, she glared at Ako with something akin to hatred in her eyes.
"Finally come to your senses, have you?" Ako asked, laughter still dancing in his voice. "No, the book won't open because it is not yours. It will open only to the owner, and that happens to be me," he explained smugly. "Rather nifty enchantment, even if I do say so myself."
The innkeeper looked at him in contempt, before her eyes widened a bit and she asked with a trace of shock in her voice, "You created that enchantment?"
"Yes. These robes aren't just for show. Let's start from the beginning. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. And you are?" he asked pleasantly, having had enough of the animosity.
The innkeeper stuttered a bit before replying, "Uh, Delphine, proprietor of the Sleeping Giant inn. I'm, uh… honoured to have you under my roof, Arch-Mage." She finished with a grimace, as if the title tasted foul in her mouth.
"Pleased to meet you Delphine. And please, call me Ako," he said with a Khajiit smile. "To answer your question, I was busy with research."
Handing back the journal, Delphine asked, "What research, if I may ask? Does it have to do with your companions'," pointing at the somewhat tipsy Nords, "tales about a dragon?"
Ako sat back, scrutinising the Breton. "Observant, aren't you? Well, you are the innkeeper, so I suppose you are entitled to know. Yes, it is. A dragon sacked Helgen yesterday, a few of us made it out. Most went east or west to warn the people, we came north to warn Whiterun." Ako kept a careful eye on Delphine during his explanation. The fact that she wasn't reacting with incredulity was telling. She knew more than most if she believed it straight away. Her follow-up question confirmed it.
"Was it just one dragon? Or were there more? Was it killed?" she asked, a feral glint in her eyes.
"Just the one dragon, and it got away. Since it was apparently invincible, it didn't take any damage. Why are you asking? What do you know about dragons?" Ako asked in reply.
"Nothing, I was just curious," she avoided smoothly, but Ako could see how she looked away, not wanting to be caught lying.
"Fine, keep your secrets. Must be something in your, hmm, active past? You might regret it if the combined knowledge proves necessary later." Ako bit back further snappy comments, not wanting to overly antagonize her if she did indeed know more than she let on. "Well, it is late. I'm heading to Whiterun in the morning, could you make sure breakfast is ready an hour after sunrise? Goodnight."
Delphine glared daggers at him as he went to his room and locked his door, the conjured magelight tagging along after him. She gave a final huff of anger at the Arch-Mage. He was clever… clever enough to see through the careful front she had created. Then again, those robes weren't for show, he said. She could only hope he found something else to keep him busy, that he would not tear down the illusion she maintained for so many years. And that no one else with his smarts came past.