Ako'Siirto wasn't unused to surprises. After all, his life had been unusual up to now, but this is much more unusual than he thought possible. Clearly, dragons would be an interesting topic to sate his hunger for knowledge.
The Weight of Responsibility (Skyrim)
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Author's prelude
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
This is the start of a story I started writing on a whim back in 2015, during the FMF protests in South Africa. It quickly grew to 60k words, then sluggishly from there on. With life being what it is, I currently find myself with a fair bit of time on my hands again for a few weeks at least. My writing has improved massively since this was first written (thanks to university and much proofreading for others), but if I don't post it now, it'll be rewritten for the nth time and never get published. Similarly, the title might change a few times before I find one I like. Much thanks to empire1003 over on FF.net for her help in proofreading this (even if it was a few years back). English is not my mother tongue, and the English I speak is South African English. It is similar to British English, but there are some differences that might seem strange to people. Similarly, my humour is South African. I've been told it is strange at best and downright disturbing at worst. I have a fairly substantial backlog, and I'll be aiming to post one chapter a week or so until I run out of words. This story is loosely sketched through a sequel, but given that I took 9 chapters to do what I thought would be done in 4, loosely sketched can mean just about anything. I'd be very happy to hear any feedback and comments. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!
Prologue
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Snow. Soft, fluffy heaps of snow covered the Pale Pass, despite the calendar proclaiming it to be not quite autumn. Ako'Siirto didn't care too much about it, after all, he had spent half his life living in a far more inhospitable location. The fresh smell of pine needles hung thickly in the air, along with the far off, slightly rotten smell of frost trolls, his tail twitching slightly at the thought. He hoped he didn't have to face those again anytime soon, it was such a nuisance to burn them. Seeing the snow for the first time in a few months reminded him of the first time he had come to Skyrim.
It was a normal spring day for the locals of Dawnstar, that is; cold and snowing. At least it wasn't blustery as well. The handful of guards on patrol went about their business, not paying much attention to anything but the end of their shift and corresponding visit to the inn. The miners and workers at the smelter barely took note of the snow falling, drifting lazily onto their clothes, occasionally stirring to shake off the worst. The normality meant little for the newcomer, shivering at the edge of the pier, avoiding the scurrying dockworkers as they unloaded the goods that came along with him. He stomped off towards the inn, carrying a small pack slung across his shoulders, and a firm staff made of solid oak wood, in his hand.
Wrapped as he was in a multitude of furs and layers of clothing, it was impossible to distinguish any identifying features, except for dark eyes that avoided eye contact with anyone. Stopping near a guard, a quick, whispered conversation took place. The stranger changed direction, and seemed to suddenly be in a hurry, this time aiming for the stables. The reason for his sudden hurry was a carriage, ready to leave. A few words were exchanged with the carriage driver, and the stranger got on. As he did, a swish of a mostly white tail revealed the visitor to be a Khajiit, far removed from the deserts and jungles of his homeland. The carriage disappeared in the snow that was still falling, heading east.
Ako chuckled as he thought back on the first few months in Skyrim, shivering from the icy cold that characterized northern Skyrim's summer. His first winter consisted of mastering the flame cloak spell, just to stop shivering. Nowadays he wore warm robes, additionally enchanted to keep him warm if necessary. Somehow, he missed the cold of Skyrim. Having spent the last 3 months in Cyrodiil, first visiting his place of birth in Leyawiin, and from there on exploring on his way back north, he was often panting from the heat and exhaustion. Many years of living in northern Skyrim meant he had a considerably thicker coat of fur than most of his kinsmen. It was good to be back. Helgen, his stop for the night, was just beyond the mountains.
As Ako crossed the high pass and started to descend, he suddenly heard the din of battle, coming from some distance ahead of him. He rushed forward, moving warily but quickly. He did not want to be caught up in the crossfire of some bandit raid gone wrong, but also wanted to assist the traders or whoever it might be.
As he came into a sudden clearing, he saw Imperial troops seemingly finishing the skirmish, taking prisoners and starting to carry the bodies away. Most of the prisoners wore dark blue leather and fur armour, reminding Ako of the Hold guards' armour. Nauseous from the stench of blood and innards, he heard a groan of pain from one of the bodies yet to be removed. He hurried forward, passing the oblivious soldiers who seemed to be lookouts, but their attention was fully focused on the bloody road. "Halt!" a commanding voice yelled. Ako stopped for only a few seconds, annoyed, before continuing on his way. A few of the soldiers sprung in the way, swords drawn, pointing towards Ako. "What exactly do you think you are doing, cat?" the owner of the commanding voice, revealed to be a female Imperial, demanded.
Ako snapped back, "I am a skilled healer, and there is a gravely injured man suffering there. I can and certainly intend to save his life, if you s'wits don't mind." Brushing the swords away, he fell to his knees next to the injured Nord. He focused his magicka, the energy present in all living creatures, what mages used to cast spells and affect the world around them. He felt the rush of energy entering the broken body of the Nord, gently prodding to determine what parts of the body needed to be healed. He closed his eyes, pushing his magic through the Nord, sensing the ripped muscles and cut veins marking the path of the sword that ran the Nord through. Then he held a mental picture of a Nord in perfect health, willing the broken Nord to repair. He felt the tendrils of magic knitting together torn muscles and sinew, flushing out extraneous fluids before knitting closed the gaping holes where the blade entered and exited his midsection. He saw some colour returning to the now sleeping man, having healed everything. It was now up to the Nord himself to wait as his body repaired the connections.
Exhaling, somewhat drained and panting from the large amount of magicka he had used, Ako heard heavy footsteps crunching behind him, and felt a sharp object poking him in the back. As he turned around to face the offending weapon, it was smashed into his skull hilt first, and darkness overtook him.
Ralof watched as the cat fell with a hiss of anger, knocked out cold by the Imperial captain, the golden glow that surrounded him fading away. He was impressed by the cat's bravery, brushing aside swords and barrelling through soldiers to save the life of a complete stranger. The cat had definitely understated his healing skills. Very few in Tamriel, let alone Skyrim, could heal a man suffering that kind of wound without any apparent difficulty. 'Damned Imperial dogs. Now they're taking seemingly innocent travellers as prisoners as well. The cat did not deserve that.'
Ralof and his fellows were herded onto the carriages they had tried to escape from a few minutes ago. They were now a few men less, but the cat and the horse thief, who unintentionally provided the distraction that allowed the attempted escape, were bundled onto the same carriage as Ralof. The unconscious Khajiit was placed directly across him, allowing Ralof to get a good look at him. The cat had almost pure white fur, with a rather long tail curled around him. A scrawny fellow, somewhat shorter than most people, especially amongst the tall Nords. He looked rather young, but Ralof was ignorant with regards to other races and their aging, especially non-humans. The Khajiit wore white-furred robes, elaborate embroidery on the sleeves and back, with flowing tendrils resembling fire, dark blue and light gold tongues of flame intertwining outwards and upwards. Ralof noticed this was very similar to the pattern that appeared on the cat's tail. His face was hidden beneath a hood, long whiskers peeking around the edge.
When the Khajiit first barged in, he had been carrying a fine carved staff and a small satchel slung across his back. These had disappeared while the carts were being loaded, no doubt the doing of that accursed Imperial captain. As they dropped down below the treeline, Ralof noticed the glimmering bindings around the cat's hands, claws slightly extended. Apparently the Imperials were prepared to deal with mages. No doubt the enchantments on the bindings prevented the Khajiit from casting spells, although Ralof didn't know how it worked. With the cultural distrust of magic that Nords possessed, he didn't want to know, either. Closing his eyes with a long sigh, he thought, 'It will all be over soon. Don't see how we're getting out of this one.'
The loud snap of teleportation magic crackled and filled the air. A distinct stench, reminiscent of ozone and burnt flesh, permeated the emptiness as the Psijics left, the Eye of Magnus in tow.
"A – arch-Mage? M - me?" the young Khajiit stammered. "How?"
A small chuckle came from the hall's entrance. "I do believe they are right, my dear Ako. No one else here has either the talent or the dedication to the college that you displayed. Why, running across half of Skyrim without rest, just to save the College and Skyrim. You are indeed the best choice for the position."
"But I don't want it, Tolfdir. I never wanted anything other than learning more about magic. Heck, I haven't been here for even a decade! Why not you?" whined the Khajiit.
Tolfdir chuckled softly, "You know why, my boy. If the Psijic Order thinks you are the best candidate for Arch-Mage, who are we to gainsay them? But, if you need help, I'll still be here, and as Master Wizard I will assist you in your responsibilities. I'm sure you will make a great leader, Arch-Mage."
"I guess I'm not getting out of this now," said Ako with a loud sigh. "Very well, then my first order as Arch-Mage is to bid you show me to my quarters, and then to not disturb me. I feel like sleeping for a week," he said sarcastically, swaying slightly.
Tolfdir smiled at the smirk in the new Arch-Mage's eyes. "As you wish, Arch-Mage. I'll be handling the clean-up here. Here is the key to the Arch-Mage's room, and we will send for a tailor within the week to get your robes. I'm sure Sergius will do the position of Master Enchanter honour with the enchantments."
He noticed Ako swaying, dozing lightly, and asked with a worried expression, "Just when did you last sleep?" Ako drew his ears flat sideways, the Khajiit equivalent of guilt, and replied with an embarrassed cough, "At the Windhelm caravan, on my way back from Mzulft. That was… hmm, 4 or 5 days ago?"
Tolfdir stared at Ako in astonishment. "But… how... You… Ancano….. The fight? Fights? How are you still standing? No, you're definitely going to get some sleep, right now. Come, my boy, I'll make sure you don't fall over before you get there. I'll send Colette to tend to you as soon as she is able."
As they walked up the stairs, Ako softly thanked Tolfdir. As he made to lie down, Tolfdir having left him at the door, he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow.
Ako awoke to the creak of wooden axles, the soft chirping of woodland birds and a pounding headache. The smell of pine needles hung heavy in the air, with the smell of horse sweat, unwashed men, and dried blood soon driving it off. He cracked open his eyes, immediately closing it to slits again as bright noon light invaded his mind. He thought about the dream he just had. It was a memory, of some 9, maybe 10 years back. There was a familiar presence about the scene, which was new. It felt somewhat like an old family friend or beloved uncle. Ako could not figure out why though.
"Hey, cat! You finally awake?" came a gruff voice from somewhere to his left. Scowling, Ako opened one eye to glare at the speaker from under his hood. It was a Nord, dressed in the same guard-like armour, with unkempt, matted blond hair. Inquisitive, sky-blue eyes met his as he growled in reply. Next to him was another, even dirtier Nord, bound like the rest, but seemingly unconscious. To Ako's right sat a faintly familiar, well-dressed giant of a man, possibly a noble, bound, and, unlike the rest on the cart, gagged.
The first Nord spoke again. "That hit got you something nasty, eh? I'm kinda surprised you didn't end up with a cracked skull or something. Blasted Imperials."
Ako snorted in agreement, and asked, "It was that bitch of a captain, right?" He lifted his bound hands to his head, gingerly feeling the clotted blood. He tried to heal the wound, but almost immediately realized he couldn't quite. Yet. The magicka draining enchantment on his binds was strong, and Ako was still drained a bit from healing the Nord's compatriot. It was a smart move by the Imperials, since a healer could conceivably throw fire around as well. Though they were in for a surprise soon enough.
The Nord went on, "Yeah, she looked angry when you came in, but after you saved Earik she lost it completely. It was the only 'kill' she got in the skirmish, and you 'stole' it. Funny though, she ordered all her underlings to leave him alone, despite having the others' suffering ended."
"Gmpf, so not only is she a short-tempered witch, but a cruel and sadistic one at that?" Ako replied angrily. "I think I will have a word or two with her superiors over this."
The Nord laughed at that, and asked, "The name's Ralof. And yours? How'd you end up here anyway? I know how our sleeping horse thief got here, but you seem different." He nodded with his head to his left, where the dirty Nord was still knocked out cold.
"Walking home seems to be unsafe these days," Ako replied dryly. "I was travelling back from Cyrodiil, having spent 3 months there. And you?"
Ralof puffed out his chest, proudly stating, "We Stormcloaks are fighting to liberate Skyrim from her Imperial slave masters! We are free to worship Talos, despite all the Imperial lies about Him." He looked old all of a sudden, sadness clouding his face. "But that seems to be at an end."
"A civil war?" Ako asked, somewhat disbelieving. "That's new. Leave home for 3 months and all Oblivion breaks loose."
Ako sighed loudly. The cart rolled on in silence for a while. A strangled gasp came as the horse thief woke up. "Ugh… where are we? Where are we going?" he asked in a slightly panicked voice.
Ralof raised his head to look at the thief. "I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits."
The thief looked at him in horror, and all but screeched, "What? But…. You've got to tell them, we're not with you! We're not rebels!"
Ako rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples as best he could, ears flattened under the hooded robes in annoyance. "Shut up, will you? You are in this mess of your own making, thief," he sneered with disdain. The whining of the thief grated on his ears, and did nothing to help his headache.
"Hey, horse thief. Where are you from?" Ralof asked after a short silence.
"Why do you care?" came the short, snapped reply.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof replied, almost kindly.
Lokir seemed to be mollified by that, and haltingly replied, "R – rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."
"And you, cat?" the blond asked, seemingly over his racist streak.
Ako thought for a moment before he answered, "I was raised in Leyawiin, but nowadays I count Winterhold as home. Have done so for more than a decade now."
Ralof looked surprised as he asked, "Winterhold, eh? Perhaps Skyrim is your home then. Must have ice in your blood to live in Winterhold." He chuckled softly. "Are you with the College, then?"
Ako smirked inwardly, replying in a neutral voice, "You could say that." 'If only he knew.'
Ralof looked impressed, and said, "That explains why Earik still lives."
A walled keep – town, Ako realised – came into view. A patrolling soldier yelled out, "General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting."
"About time," an older Imperial riding a horse replied. He was wearing a decorated version of the standard Imperial armour, indicating his rank as general.
"Helgen…." Ralof suddenly said, a nostalgic lilt to his words. "I used to be sweet on a girl here. Wonder if the juniper mead is still as I remember it."
Ako nodded silently, and tuned out any further conversations as he tried to come up with a way out of this mess. 'Few people will believe that a so-called cat is Arch-Mage… Despite having held the position for a decade, I have never visited any court or even left Winterhold. And I look too young for such a position.' He shrugged a bit, deciding that should they call him a liar, burning off the enchanted bindings should be enough proof. Perhaps there might even be a Winterhold native here.
He was brought back from his musing by Ralof cursing at the Thalmor talking with General Tullius. The carts drew to a halt outside of a tower on the west of Helgen.
"Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked in a quavering voice.
"Why do you think? End of the line," came a resigned sigh from Ralof. "Come on. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
Ako quietly chuckled, "I hope the gods aren't offended by waiting a bit longer for me." He looked over the carriages, noticing that the entire town seemed to have turned out for the excitement. Ralof and the thief both gave Ako quizzical looks, but before they could press it, they were interrupted by a Nord, wearing Imperial colours, holding a book and quill.
"Step forward when I call your name," he said.
Ralof muttered something about "….damned Imperials and their lists…." to Ako's amusement.
List-man began, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
Ako's ears perked up at that, recognising the name. Eastmarch, of which Windhelm was the capital, was known as an influential and restive hold. Despite knowing very little about the civil war, Ako knew that this man was either at the very root or near it. If he was to die, this war would swing strongly in the Imperials' favour.
He vaguely heard List-man calling Ralof and the thief. His musings were again interrupted, this time by the thief running and suddenly sprouting arrows as the Imperial captain called the archers on him. 'Bitch' he thought. 'I'll get you yet. No one gives me a headache, especially not for saving a life.'
List-man turned away from the dead thief, and looked surprised to see Ako. "Wait… who are you?"
Ako decided to take his revenge on the Captain-bitch, as he thought of her. He waited until she looked him in the eye, and loudly announced, "Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."
A stunned silence followed, before several cries of "Liar!" rang out, from both captors and captives alike.
Ako continued, "I assure you, I do not lie. Khajiit I may be, but anyone of any race can be a talented mage."
As a momentary hush fell over the crowd, Ako suddenly felt a change deep within him, a stirring of heart and soul with apprehension, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The captain glared at him, before sneering loudly, "You are still lying. Not that it matters, you can join your fellow rebels on the block."
Ako sighed irritably, "Should I prove it? If I can get my pack back, I can show my official robes and my staff."
Captain-bitch glared daggers at him, before snapping, "No. No way you are Arch-Mage, liar. If it isn't fake, you probably stole it, a thief like all cats."
Ako sighed audibly, murmuring, "I had hoped to have civilised captors. Wishful thinking." His hands and wrists suddenly flared to life, white hot fire burning his bindings and dispelling the draining enchantments with a sound of shattering glass. The fire continued to flow from his hands, rising high into the sky. A statue of a cloaked mage standing ready to cast a spell, same as the statue that stood in front of the college, formed from the fire. Ako stopped the flow of fire to the statue, leaving it standing in the air above him, the cloak fluttering in a nonexistent wind.
Lifting his hands to his head, he quickly healed the wound left by his capture. Murmurs of disbelief and gasps of surprise fled through the crowd, Listman having an even more stunned expression on his face. Captain-bitch contorted her face in equal amounts of disbelief and rage, before yelling, "But… How!? The binds… I was assured they prevent mages from using any spells?!"
Ako sneered loudly, "Not quite true, is it? It only drains their magicka. Against lesser, even most mages, it would drain their magicka completely. But I am not Arch-Mage for nothing. And perhaps the poor fool you left for dead in the skirmish? Let's ask him how powerful a mage I am." Turning his attention to the General, who was looking unfazed as befitted a war commander, Ako inquired, "By the way, leaving people, even rebels, to die slowly with a gut wound is not how the Empire operates, is it, General?"
The general slowly turned his gaze to the captain, who was now red with rage and a fair deal of embarrassment. He looked back to Ako and said, "It will be dealt with internally. For now, you are free. But please remain until after the executions, when we can sort out this mess you found yourself in and recompense you for the inconvenience caused." Then, he directed his attention to a few of the soldiers standing near the carriages, ordering them to bring Ako's pack and staff to him.
Ako thanked them as he let the fiery statue dissipate. As the humiliated Captain-bitch continued with the execution, an unearthly roar came from the skies. The stirring of Ako's soul came again, urging him to be strong, challenge it, roar out his own strength, but somehow knowing he was vastly inferior to whatever was responsible for the roar. The crowd began murmuring, quailing, but the soldiers dismissed it. As the first rebel was laid upon the block, the roar came again. Again Ako was stirred, feeling very uncomfortable with the alien feelings within him, more urgent this time. Just as the headsman raised his axe, a screech akin to massive blades cutting the air came from above, and a dark, massive form dropped from the clouds.
It landed on the tower, shaking the earth as it did so. It gazed over the assembled crowd with contempt, a cruel light in its eyes, seeing them rooted to the spot with fear.
A single scream came from the crowd. "DRAGON!"
It was a normal spring day for the locals of Dawnstar, that is; cold and snowing. At least it wasn't blustery as well. The handful of guards on patrol went about their business, not paying much attention to anything but the end of their shift and corresponding visit to the inn. The miners and workers at the smelter barely took note of the snow falling, drifting lazily onto their clothes, occasionally stirring to shake off the worst. The normality meant little for the newcomer, shivering at the edge of the pier, avoiding the scurrying dockworkers as they unloaded the goods that came along with him. He stomped off towards the inn, carrying a small pack slung across his shoulders, and a firm staff made of solid oak wood, in his hand.
Wrapped as he was in a multitude of furs and layers of clothing, it was impossible to distinguish any identifying features, except for dark eyes that avoided eye contact with anyone. Stopping near a guard, a quick, whispered conversation took place. The stranger changed direction, and seemed to suddenly be in a hurry, this time aiming for the stables. The reason for his sudden hurry was a carriage, ready to leave. A few words were exchanged with the carriage driver, and the stranger got on. As he did, a swish of a mostly white tail revealed the visitor to be a Khajiit, far removed from the deserts and jungles of his homeland. The carriage disappeared in the snow that was still falling, heading east.
Ako chuckled as he thought back on the first few months in Skyrim, shivering from the icy cold that characterized northern Skyrim's summer. His first winter consisted of mastering the flame cloak spell, just to stop shivering. Nowadays he wore warm robes, additionally enchanted to keep him warm if necessary. Somehow, he missed the cold of Skyrim. Having spent the last 3 months in Cyrodiil, first visiting his place of birth in Leyawiin, and from there on exploring on his way back north, he was often panting from the heat and exhaustion. Many years of living in northern Skyrim meant he had a considerably thicker coat of fur than most of his kinsmen. It was good to be back. Helgen, his stop for the night, was just beyond the mountains.
As Ako crossed the high pass and started to descend, he suddenly heard the din of battle, coming from some distance ahead of him. He rushed forward, moving warily but quickly. He did not want to be caught up in the crossfire of some bandit raid gone wrong, but also wanted to assist the traders or whoever it might be.
As he came into a sudden clearing, he saw Imperial troops seemingly finishing the skirmish, taking prisoners and starting to carry the bodies away. Most of the prisoners wore dark blue leather and fur armour, reminding Ako of the Hold guards' armour. Nauseous from the stench of blood and innards, he heard a groan of pain from one of the bodies yet to be removed. He hurried forward, passing the oblivious soldiers who seemed to be lookouts, but their attention was fully focused on the bloody road. "Halt!" a commanding voice yelled. Ako stopped for only a few seconds, annoyed, before continuing on his way. A few of the soldiers sprung in the way, swords drawn, pointing towards Ako. "What exactly do you think you are doing, cat?" the owner of the commanding voice, revealed to be a female Imperial, demanded.
Ako snapped back, "I am a skilled healer, and there is a gravely injured man suffering there. I can and certainly intend to save his life, if you s'wits don't mind." Brushing the swords away, he fell to his knees next to the injured Nord. He focused his magicka, the energy present in all living creatures, what mages used to cast spells and affect the world around them. He felt the rush of energy entering the broken body of the Nord, gently prodding to determine what parts of the body needed to be healed. He closed his eyes, pushing his magic through the Nord, sensing the ripped muscles and cut veins marking the path of the sword that ran the Nord through. Then he held a mental picture of a Nord in perfect health, willing the broken Nord to repair. He felt the tendrils of magic knitting together torn muscles and sinew, flushing out extraneous fluids before knitting closed the gaping holes where the blade entered and exited his midsection. He saw some colour returning to the now sleeping man, having healed everything. It was now up to the Nord himself to wait as his body repaired the connections.
Exhaling, somewhat drained and panting from the large amount of magicka he had used, Ako heard heavy footsteps crunching behind him, and felt a sharp object poking him in the back. As he turned around to face the offending weapon, it was smashed into his skull hilt first, and darkness overtook him.
Ralof watched as the cat fell with a hiss of anger, knocked out cold by the Imperial captain, the golden glow that surrounded him fading away. He was impressed by the cat's bravery, brushing aside swords and barrelling through soldiers to save the life of a complete stranger. The cat had definitely understated his healing skills. Very few in Tamriel, let alone Skyrim, could heal a man suffering that kind of wound without any apparent difficulty. 'Damned Imperial dogs. Now they're taking seemingly innocent travellers as prisoners as well. The cat did not deserve that.'
Ralof and his fellows were herded onto the carriages they had tried to escape from a few minutes ago. They were now a few men less, but the cat and the horse thief, who unintentionally provided the distraction that allowed the attempted escape, were bundled onto the same carriage as Ralof. The unconscious Khajiit was placed directly across him, allowing Ralof to get a good look at him. The cat had almost pure white fur, with a rather long tail curled around him. A scrawny fellow, somewhat shorter than most people, especially amongst the tall Nords. He looked rather young, but Ralof was ignorant with regards to other races and their aging, especially non-humans. The Khajiit wore white-furred robes, elaborate embroidery on the sleeves and back, with flowing tendrils resembling fire, dark blue and light gold tongues of flame intertwining outwards and upwards. Ralof noticed this was very similar to the pattern that appeared on the cat's tail. His face was hidden beneath a hood, long whiskers peeking around the edge.
When the Khajiit first barged in, he had been carrying a fine carved staff and a small satchel slung across his back. These had disappeared while the carts were being loaded, no doubt the doing of that accursed Imperial captain. As they dropped down below the treeline, Ralof noticed the glimmering bindings around the cat's hands, claws slightly extended. Apparently the Imperials were prepared to deal with mages. No doubt the enchantments on the bindings prevented the Khajiit from casting spells, although Ralof didn't know how it worked. With the cultural distrust of magic that Nords possessed, he didn't want to know, either. Closing his eyes with a long sigh, he thought, 'It will all be over soon. Don't see how we're getting out of this one.'
The loud snap of teleportation magic crackled and filled the air. A distinct stench, reminiscent of ozone and burnt flesh, permeated the emptiness as the Psijics left, the Eye of Magnus in tow.
"A – arch-Mage? M - me?" the young Khajiit stammered. "How?"
A small chuckle came from the hall's entrance. "I do believe they are right, my dear Ako. No one else here has either the talent or the dedication to the college that you displayed. Why, running across half of Skyrim without rest, just to save the College and Skyrim. You are indeed the best choice for the position."
"But I don't want it, Tolfdir. I never wanted anything other than learning more about magic. Heck, I haven't been here for even a decade! Why not you?" whined the Khajiit.
Tolfdir chuckled softly, "You know why, my boy. If the Psijic Order thinks you are the best candidate for Arch-Mage, who are we to gainsay them? But, if you need help, I'll still be here, and as Master Wizard I will assist you in your responsibilities. I'm sure you will make a great leader, Arch-Mage."
"I guess I'm not getting out of this now," said Ako with a loud sigh. "Very well, then my first order as Arch-Mage is to bid you show me to my quarters, and then to not disturb me. I feel like sleeping for a week," he said sarcastically, swaying slightly.
Tolfdir smiled at the smirk in the new Arch-Mage's eyes. "As you wish, Arch-Mage. I'll be handling the clean-up here. Here is the key to the Arch-Mage's room, and we will send for a tailor within the week to get your robes. I'm sure Sergius will do the position of Master Enchanter honour with the enchantments."
He noticed Ako swaying, dozing lightly, and asked with a worried expression, "Just when did you last sleep?" Ako drew his ears flat sideways, the Khajiit equivalent of guilt, and replied with an embarrassed cough, "At the Windhelm caravan, on my way back from Mzulft. That was… hmm, 4 or 5 days ago?"
Tolfdir stared at Ako in astonishment. "But… how... You… Ancano….. The fight? Fights? How are you still standing? No, you're definitely going to get some sleep, right now. Come, my boy, I'll make sure you don't fall over before you get there. I'll send Colette to tend to you as soon as she is able."
As they walked up the stairs, Ako softly thanked Tolfdir. As he made to lie down, Tolfdir having left him at the door, he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow.
Ako awoke to the creak of wooden axles, the soft chirping of woodland birds and a pounding headache. The smell of pine needles hung heavy in the air, with the smell of horse sweat, unwashed men, and dried blood soon driving it off. He cracked open his eyes, immediately closing it to slits again as bright noon light invaded his mind. He thought about the dream he just had. It was a memory, of some 9, maybe 10 years back. There was a familiar presence about the scene, which was new. It felt somewhat like an old family friend or beloved uncle. Ako could not figure out why though.
"Hey, cat! You finally awake?" came a gruff voice from somewhere to his left. Scowling, Ako opened one eye to glare at the speaker from under his hood. It was a Nord, dressed in the same guard-like armour, with unkempt, matted blond hair. Inquisitive, sky-blue eyes met his as he growled in reply. Next to him was another, even dirtier Nord, bound like the rest, but seemingly unconscious. To Ako's right sat a faintly familiar, well-dressed giant of a man, possibly a noble, bound, and, unlike the rest on the cart, gagged.
The first Nord spoke again. "That hit got you something nasty, eh? I'm kinda surprised you didn't end up with a cracked skull or something. Blasted Imperials."
Ako snorted in agreement, and asked, "It was that bitch of a captain, right?" He lifted his bound hands to his head, gingerly feeling the clotted blood. He tried to heal the wound, but almost immediately realized he couldn't quite. Yet. The magicka draining enchantment on his binds was strong, and Ako was still drained a bit from healing the Nord's compatriot. It was a smart move by the Imperials, since a healer could conceivably throw fire around as well. Though they were in for a surprise soon enough.
The Nord went on, "Yeah, she looked angry when you came in, but after you saved Earik she lost it completely. It was the only 'kill' she got in the skirmish, and you 'stole' it. Funny though, she ordered all her underlings to leave him alone, despite having the others' suffering ended."
"Gmpf, so not only is she a short-tempered witch, but a cruel and sadistic one at that?" Ako replied angrily. "I think I will have a word or two with her superiors over this."
The Nord laughed at that, and asked, "The name's Ralof. And yours? How'd you end up here anyway? I know how our sleeping horse thief got here, but you seem different." He nodded with his head to his left, where the dirty Nord was still knocked out cold.
"Walking home seems to be unsafe these days," Ako replied dryly. "I was travelling back from Cyrodiil, having spent 3 months there. And you?"
Ralof puffed out his chest, proudly stating, "We Stormcloaks are fighting to liberate Skyrim from her Imperial slave masters! We are free to worship Talos, despite all the Imperial lies about Him." He looked old all of a sudden, sadness clouding his face. "But that seems to be at an end."
"A civil war?" Ako asked, somewhat disbelieving. "That's new. Leave home for 3 months and all Oblivion breaks loose."
Ako sighed loudly. The cart rolled on in silence for a while. A strangled gasp came as the horse thief woke up. "Ugh… where are we? Where are we going?" he asked in a slightly panicked voice.
Ralof raised his head to look at the thief. "I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits."
The thief looked at him in horror, and all but screeched, "What? But…. You've got to tell them, we're not with you! We're not rebels!"
Ako rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples as best he could, ears flattened under the hooded robes in annoyance. "Shut up, will you? You are in this mess of your own making, thief," he sneered with disdain. The whining of the thief grated on his ears, and did nothing to help his headache.
"Hey, horse thief. Where are you from?" Ralof asked after a short silence.
"Why do you care?" came the short, snapped reply.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof replied, almost kindly.
Lokir seemed to be mollified by that, and haltingly replied, "R – rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."
"And you, cat?" the blond asked, seemingly over his racist streak.
Ako thought for a moment before he answered, "I was raised in Leyawiin, but nowadays I count Winterhold as home. Have done so for more than a decade now."
Ralof looked surprised as he asked, "Winterhold, eh? Perhaps Skyrim is your home then. Must have ice in your blood to live in Winterhold." He chuckled softly. "Are you with the College, then?"
Ako smirked inwardly, replying in a neutral voice, "You could say that." 'If only he knew.'
Ralof looked impressed, and said, "That explains why Earik still lives."
A walled keep – town, Ako realised – came into view. A patrolling soldier yelled out, "General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting."
"About time," an older Imperial riding a horse replied. He was wearing a decorated version of the standard Imperial armour, indicating his rank as general.
"Helgen…." Ralof suddenly said, a nostalgic lilt to his words. "I used to be sweet on a girl here. Wonder if the juniper mead is still as I remember it."
Ako nodded silently, and tuned out any further conversations as he tried to come up with a way out of this mess. 'Few people will believe that a so-called cat is Arch-Mage… Despite having held the position for a decade, I have never visited any court or even left Winterhold. And I look too young for such a position.' He shrugged a bit, deciding that should they call him a liar, burning off the enchanted bindings should be enough proof. Perhaps there might even be a Winterhold native here.
He was brought back from his musing by Ralof cursing at the Thalmor talking with General Tullius. The carts drew to a halt outside of a tower on the west of Helgen.
"Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked in a quavering voice.
"Why do you think? End of the line," came a resigned sigh from Ralof. "Come on. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."
Ako quietly chuckled, "I hope the gods aren't offended by waiting a bit longer for me." He looked over the carriages, noticing that the entire town seemed to have turned out for the excitement. Ralof and the thief both gave Ako quizzical looks, but before they could press it, they were interrupted by a Nord, wearing Imperial colours, holding a book and quill.
"Step forward when I call your name," he said.
Ralof muttered something about "….damned Imperials and their lists…." to Ako's amusement.
List-man began, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
Ako's ears perked up at that, recognising the name. Eastmarch, of which Windhelm was the capital, was known as an influential and restive hold. Despite knowing very little about the civil war, Ako knew that this man was either at the very root or near it. If he was to die, this war would swing strongly in the Imperials' favour.
He vaguely heard List-man calling Ralof and the thief. His musings were again interrupted, this time by the thief running and suddenly sprouting arrows as the Imperial captain called the archers on him. 'Bitch' he thought. 'I'll get you yet. No one gives me a headache, especially not for saving a life.'
List-man turned away from the dead thief, and looked surprised to see Ako. "Wait… who are you?"
Ako decided to take his revenge on the Captain-bitch, as he thought of her. He waited until she looked him in the eye, and loudly announced, "Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."
A stunned silence followed, before several cries of "Liar!" rang out, from both captors and captives alike.
Ako continued, "I assure you, I do not lie. Khajiit I may be, but anyone of any race can be a talented mage."
As a momentary hush fell over the crowd, Ako suddenly felt a change deep within him, a stirring of heart and soul with apprehension, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
The captain glared at him, before sneering loudly, "You are still lying. Not that it matters, you can join your fellow rebels on the block."
Ako sighed irritably, "Should I prove it? If I can get my pack back, I can show my official robes and my staff."
Captain-bitch glared daggers at him, before snapping, "No. No way you are Arch-Mage, liar. If it isn't fake, you probably stole it, a thief like all cats."
Ako sighed audibly, murmuring, "I had hoped to have civilised captors. Wishful thinking." His hands and wrists suddenly flared to life, white hot fire burning his bindings and dispelling the draining enchantments with a sound of shattering glass. The fire continued to flow from his hands, rising high into the sky. A statue of a cloaked mage standing ready to cast a spell, same as the statue that stood in front of the college, formed from the fire. Ako stopped the flow of fire to the statue, leaving it standing in the air above him, the cloak fluttering in a nonexistent wind.
Lifting his hands to his head, he quickly healed the wound left by his capture. Murmurs of disbelief and gasps of surprise fled through the crowd, Listman having an even more stunned expression on his face. Captain-bitch contorted her face in equal amounts of disbelief and rage, before yelling, "But… How!? The binds… I was assured they prevent mages from using any spells?!"
Ako sneered loudly, "Not quite true, is it? It only drains their magicka. Against lesser, even most mages, it would drain their magicka completely. But I am not Arch-Mage for nothing. And perhaps the poor fool you left for dead in the skirmish? Let's ask him how powerful a mage I am." Turning his attention to the General, who was looking unfazed as befitted a war commander, Ako inquired, "By the way, leaving people, even rebels, to die slowly with a gut wound is not how the Empire operates, is it, General?"
The general slowly turned his gaze to the captain, who was now red with rage and a fair deal of embarrassment. He looked back to Ako and said, "It will be dealt with internally. For now, you are free. But please remain until after the executions, when we can sort out this mess you found yourself in and recompense you for the inconvenience caused." Then, he directed his attention to a few of the soldiers standing near the carriages, ordering them to bring Ako's pack and staff to him.
Ako thanked them as he let the fiery statue dissipate. As the humiliated Captain-bitch continued with the execution, an unearthly roar came from the skies. The stirring of Ako's soul came again, urging him to be strong, challenge it, roar out his own strength, but somehow knowing he was vastly inferior to whatever was responsible for the roar. The crowd began murmuring, quailing, but the soldiers dismissed it. As the first rebel was laid upon the block, the roar came again. Again Ako was stirred, feeling very uncomfortable with the alien feelings within him, more urgent this time. Just as the headsman raised his axe, a screech akin to massive blades cutting the air came from above, and a dark, massive form dropped from the clouds.
It landed on the tower, shaking the earth as it did so. It gazed over the assembled crowd with contempt, a cruel light in its eyes, seeing them rooted to the spot with fear.
A single scream came from the crowd. "DRAGON!"
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- Location
- Italy
Well, the start is interesting.
Using an archmage from the start may sounds pretty OP, but I have the feeling that you have more in store than we can expect.
Also, there is to say that Skyrim and mages had a... problematic history together, from what I remember. Pretty sure that your establishment of a relatively new archmage may be more of a problem than a boon, at least in the short run.
Definitely interesting.
Using an archmage from the start may sounds pretty OP, but I have the feeling that you have more in store than we can expect.
Also, there is to say that Skyrim and mages had a... problematic history together, from what I remember. Pretty sure that your establishment of a relatively new archmage may be more of a problem than a boon, at least in the short run.
Definitely interesting.
- Pronouns
- male
IF you follow Ralof into the keep you get to kill her if i recall events right
- Location
- Iowa, United States
- Pronouns
- Him, His, He
It's been a while since I played.
- Location
- Kiel; Germany
It's a great start. The main character is established in a good way. Maybe he is a bit OP, but it also shows us what his place in the world is and moves away from the usual "the Dovakin is a nobody" theme. If he is truly OP, further chapters will show us.
I can't wait for more.
I can't wait for more.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Yeah, I've always had something of a preference for OP characters to... not trivialize, but lessen the importance of physical combat. This story especially is planned to be far more character conflict than physical – I can only hope I can pull it off appropriately. Also, it kinda came about due to my belief that the dragons in the Skyrim game are amazingly nerfed compared to how the LSD-fueled lore states that dragons are actual fragments of Akatosh and hence, perhaps a step or two above even Talos – except Talos was a dragon and hence had always been a god? Elder Scrolls lore is weird. To get back on track, though it smacks of the "Frodo lightsaber Sauron Deathstar" cliché I utterly despise, Ako looks OP because dragons are strong as hell and no Dovahkiin would get anywhere without significant Divine intervention.
Next chapter will be out later today after it has had a final proofreading check.
Chapter 1
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
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.
'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.
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- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
The first proper chapter. As for most of these first chapters, much thanks to empire1003 on ff.net for her assistance in the story. Also go check out her stories, she's an awesome writer. Again, I'd be very happy to receive any comments or feedback. I know I'm a good writer, but nowhere near that good a storyteller. 
- Location
- Italy
Mhhh... well, it is interesting. I wonder how his visit back to the college will go...
- Location
- Kiel; Germany
Again, well written. The story begins to unfold and as that happens I note that I'm not that troubled by the Powerlevel of the Hero. The only thing that made it a bit hard to read was the change in POV without a clear indicator that it happened. We follow Hadvar and suddenly we're seeing things - that had happened already with Hadvar - from our Dova'pussys perspective. A more clear separation would've been a bit helpful for readers like me, but that is only a small thing and not that big.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Hmm... SV ate my scene breaks. Should be fixed now, thanks for pointing it out.
Chapter 2
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Morning came, and Ako woke up to a very angry Lucan Valerius awaiting him, stomping loudly in the inn's common room.
"You! Where's my claw?" he demanded angrily.
"Your what? What are you talking about?" Ako asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.
"My golden claw! I refused to sell it to you, and now it's been stolen! Do you take me for a fool?" Lucan answered.
Dispelling the last dregs of sleep from his eyes, Ako answered calmly. "It's been stolen? What a coincidence. And no, it wasn't me. You can ask Delphine; I didn't leave the inn at all. Although, I don't exactly blame you for coming to the conclusion that you did, Lucan."
Lucan appeared surprised at the serene tone of Ako's voice. "What? But... argh, I was sure of it! Ugh. For what it's worth, sorry. I should have realized it wasn't you when the thieves mentioned Bleak Falls Barrow."
Ako felt pity for the man's sheepish tone. "Forget about it. If I ever come across it, I'll be sure to let you know."
A quick breakfast later, and Ako was on the road north. Whiterun lay at the end of another 8 or so hours' walk, leaving him with plenty of time to talk with the Jarl before the day was out. If all went well, Ako would be back in Winterhold by the end of the week. He'd been away from the college for too long.
As he walked, he noted the abundance of wildlife. Many birds were chittering loudly in the trees, fleeing from a hawk, or scratching on the ground in search of food. Rabbits were bolting from holes near the road, the white tails like a flashing beacon trailing them. Elk were scattered in the trees, skittishly jumping when they caught the Arch-Mage's scent. The deer were less cautious, sparing only a slight glance in his direction from the riverside where they grazed.
After about two hours of travel, Ako caught a faint smell of wolves. While as a Khajiit he had a better olfactory sense than any human or elf, he had been raised by Bretons, and therefore was untrained in the delicate nuances that other Khajiit could pick up. As he rounded a large boulder, he found the source, a small pack. He didn't really want to fight, preferring to leave them in peace.
Unfortunately, the wolves gave Ako no such luxury. Without even a warning growl, the first wolf flung itself at Ako. Its trajectory in the air was abruptly reversed, courtesy of a large spike of ice that impaled the wolf against a tree. The rest of the wolves soon followed suit, smaller but no less deadly icy projectiles thrown from Ako's hands, piercing their throats or hearts. Ako grumbled in annoyance as the last wolf yelped, ice sticking from its eye. He hadn't wanted to kill them, preferring a live and let live approach. Then again, the roads of Skyrim weren't a stroll in the park.
The road continued to meander lazily next to the river, but not too far ahead Ako could see the spray as the White River plummeted to the plains of Whiterun. When he got to the twisting path leading down, he was stunned by the vista that spread out before him. Vast plains of golden grass surrounded a city on a hill, topped by a magnificent castle. Ako realised that must be Whiterun, and the famous Dragonsreach castle, his destination. He was still a good four hours away from the city, but even from this far out he could see it was a prosperous place.
Ako spent the next few minutes making a quick sketch of the view that stretched out before him. He wasn't a gifted artist, but he liked to have memory aids of beautiful sights. For the umpteenth time this journey he regretted that he had never left Winterhold. Ako had never truly realised how beautiful Skyrim was. He had seen some of it in his dreams, but even that didn't compare to the real thing. Perhaps he would take time to explore it properly once he got back. The months of travelling had a way of inducing a wanderlust that Ako had never known before.
Descending to the plains, Ako caught a whiff of honey on the breeze. He wondered what it was, until he came to a building with a sign declaring it to be the Honningbrew Meadery. Ako wasn't a drinker himself, but he appreciated the dedication that went into the brewing process itself. Large fields of wildflowers coloured the landscape behind the meadery, buzzing bees busily gathering pollen for the honey of the meadery.
The roaring river that he'd kept at his shoulder for the past two days drifted off to the west, having been joined by a smaller river originating from Whiterun. Ako passed a few guards patrolling the road, a few tents scattered around the meadery serving as shelter. Large windmills were strewn about the farmlands surrounding Whiterun, becoming ever more imposing as Ako came closer to the city.
As he passed the first farmlands, an angry roar came from within a walled cabbage field. Ako turned his head to see a large humanoid figure, covered in intricate, swirling tattoos and scars, wielding the femur of some massive creature as a club. He had heard of these creatures, but it was his first time actually seeing a live giant. They wandered the tundra, tending to be peaceful as they herded mammoths, but occasionally one went rogue, such as this one obviously had.
Edging closer, spells readied in case the giant decided to pancake him, Ako saw the cause of the giant's ire; 3 warriors clad in armour. One older female Nord, a redheaded archer, stood a bit away unloading her quiver into the giant with frightening speed. She wore a strange, ancient-looking armour, which left little of her body to the imagination. Another female, an Imperial brunette clad in leather with sword and shield darted in closer, stabbing at the giant's calves. Lastly, a male Nord who could almost be classified as a giant himself, wielding a massive greatsword with deceptive ease.
The warriors seemed to have the situation under control, until the giant lifted his club and swept it down with a wide arc. At the bottom of the arc was the male warrior, and screams of rage from the females. The crunch of bone and steel was audible as he went flying into the low wall 30 feet away with a bone-crunching impact. Ako immediately realised the man must be dead or very near to it, and stepped in.
Fire flew from his hands, engulfing the giant in white-hot flames, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air as the giant was turned to ash by the intense magical flames Ako produced. Ako ran as fast as he could towards the wrecked warrior, again dropping to his knees next to a mortally wounded man. The steel armour was dented and fractured in most places, the elaborate decorations horribly disfigured, and cutting into the man's flesh in a way that made it impossible to remove quickly.
Ako focused his magicka, drawing on the magicka of the world around him to assist him. He sent out tendrils of energy into the man's body, trying to determine where the healing is most needed. However, to his great surprise, a foreign magickal energy violently repelled his, resisting all attempts to discern what is broken. Ako looked at the man's companions with a fire in his eyes, and cast a quick spell at them, designed to reveal magical energies.
His eyes, slightly glowing beneath his hood from the magickal sight of the spell, immediately snapped towards the redhead. In clipped, urgent tones he asked, "What are you?"
Aela stood in shock as the strange Khajiit stared intensely at her, asking her what she was. 'How could he possibly know?' she asked herself. She had never seen or heard of him, and was unequipped to deal with the potential ramifications of exposing their secret to a complete stranger. Anger fuelled by panic coursed through her veins, after her heart got stuck in her throat as her Shield-Brother went flying.
"What are you talking about, cat?" she replied defensively.
"You and he share something, what is it?" the cat snapped back.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Aela retorted, but her voice quavered just a bit, betraying her fear and insecurity with Farkas so injured.
Stifling a groan, the cat turned his attention to Ria, the brunette. "You, get a cart from the farmer. This guy needs to get to the temple. Move it!" Ria scurried off in the farm's direction. The cat immediately returned his forceful gaze to Aela, and demanded, "She's gone now. You and he share something that interferes with my healing. If you want him to live, you'll tell me what you are. Now!"
Aela struggled with her emotions for a few brief seconds, then answered in defeat, "Werewolf. We're werewolves."
The cat's dark eyes brightened slightly, and a golden light enveloped him and Farkas. Farkas's rapid, shallow breaths slowed and deepened slightly, and Aela let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
As the redhead revealed the secret, Ako immediately realised why his healing wouldn't work. 'Of course! The wolf spirit would interfere with my magicka, seeing it as a threat perhaps.' Ako changed the spell slightly, diverting some of his focus to soothing the wild animal, similar to what he did for the bear in Helgen's caves not two days earlier. Immediately he felt the foreign energy, the wolf spirit, calm down and allow his magicka access, though not fully.
Ako felt broken ribs, punctured lungs, a shattered pelvis and a crushed spine amongst other injuries, the sheer amount of severe injuries stunning him. The warrior was immensely lucky to have avoided hitting his head. Ako healed the ribs as best he could, removing splinters from the lungs and sealing it back up. The warrior's breathing eased up, allowing Ako to take a slight breather and focus on the other injuries that could cripple him for life.
The brunette warrior returned, stammering, "T - there is no cart at the farm."
Ako thought intensely for a few moments, dredging up his alchemy knowledge. "Run to the city, warn your people. Get the alchemist to gather the following ingredients for when I get there, he'll need it: garlic, juniper berries, wheat and blue mountain flowers. If he has it, wolfsbane petals too. If he doesn't, ask the court mage."
The Imperial repeated the list a few times before she ran off. Turning to Ako, the redheaded Nord had a furious scowl on her face. "Are you insane?! Do you even know what wolfsbane does to werewolves?"
"Probably better than even you do. I mean neither you nor him any harm. If the alchemist doesn't have any I'll have to ask for some of your blood. Come, help me remove his armour," Ako replied, with a hint of scorn in his voice. The Nord still radiated anger, but did as he asked. "We can't just pull it off, it has bent and hooked into his skin. We'll have to take it apart bit by bit. Cut all the straps along the side for me please?" Ako asked, pointing out the fragmented steel on the warrior's front and back.
The archer did as she was asked, taking out a steel dagger and deftly severing the leather straps that held the armour together. Once the various pieces of the armour was separated, Ako instructed the redhead to carefully remove them, keeping his hands on the injured Nord to keep him unconscious. As the first piece of dented armour came off, pieces of flesh sticking to the jagged edges of steel, the dark-haired man jerked in obvious pain. Ako fought to keep him unconscious, forcing his magicka to leech the pain away. After a slow, painful and laborious few minutes of removing armour, Ako could finally start to heal the man without having him squeezed between back and front.
With the Nord dressed only in bloody underarmour, the redhead asked Ako, "Why did you wait to start removing his armour?"
Ako replied, "Because he was that close to death. I needed to heal his internal injuries sufficiently for him to withstand the shock of removing the mangled pieces of metal. He'll live. I don't know if he will be crippled or not, though I certainly intend to try my best to prevent it." Ako started healing the man's crushed vertebrae, deeming them to be the most vital of the various injuries remaining.
Once he finished with that, he pulled out a blue potion to restore some of his magicka from his bag and downed it with a grimace. As he finished with the most serious of injuries, Ako realized his magicka was almost fully drained. He felt exhausted, but knew there was some way to go yet. Once again directing his attention to the redhead, he asked, "How far is it to the temple in the city, …"
"Aela. My name is Aela," she replied. "The city and temple are about half an hour travel from here. How will we get Farkas there? He certainly can't do it on his own."
Ako let out an exhausted sigh. "I'll carry him."
Aela did a double-take at his words. "What?"
"Get my pack and your stuff, I'll carry him."
"But how? You are so skinny, he must weigh at least double what you do," Aela spluttered in astonishment.
Focusing the last of his magicka, Ako first sent it to his core muscles, strengthening them as he picked up the giant of a Nord. 6'6 if he was an inch, weighing at least 250 pounds, strained Ako's muscles, enhanced strength and all. Aela could only stare in astonishment as the lean Khajiit lifted Farkas up into a rescue carry, the heavyset Nord slung across his shoulders making for a surreal picture.
Ako stifled a groan as he transferred the spell fortifying his strength to his legs, and took off with firm strides in the direction of Whiterun. He hoped the slight trickle of magicka needed to sustain his strength would last until he reached the city. He heard Aela cursing behind him, picking up his pack and the weapon of the big Nord, Farkas. The ruined armour was left behind, good for nothing but scrap.
A short while later Ako passed the stables near the city gates. Aela was pacing a few steps ahead of him, dealing with the astonished bystanders and guards all staring at him carrying the big Nord. He hated the attention, but right now he couldn't care less, not if a proper life was at stake. Even his own immense reserves of magicka weren't enough to heal everything resulting from the beating.
Hurrying through the city, a pounding headache began forming behind his eyes. This warned Ako that his magicka was dangerously low, and he felt his fortifying spell slip momentarily. His knees buckled slightly as a result, and he dug deep, scrounging up every last bit of his magicka just to sustain him to the temple. His headache intensified such that he couldn't pay attention to anything other than putting one foot ahead of the other, tagging behind Aela.
Trudging up a flight of stairs, he vaguely heard the brunette from earlier, calling from a nearby door. Stumbling through, he felt hands ushering him to a nearby stone table, where he used the last of his sagging strength to gently lay Farkas on his side. As Ako's headache started to clear up slightly, since he was no longer expending any magicka, he noticed the people near him.
One was the brunette he had used as errand girl, standing near Aela. The other was a man who looked nearly identical to the injured man, with an expression of urgent worry in his eyes. Ako thought that this must be a brother of Farkas. The last person to enter was an elderly Nord woman, wearing light brown robes with a faded yellow hood, indicating her to be a priestess.
As she raised her hands to pump healing magic into Farkas, Ako managed to yell with a voice hoarse from exhaustion, "Wait, no!"
The priestess flinched from the strange Khajiit's forceful voice. Ako turned to Aela, beckoning her and Farkas's brother to come closer. Taking their hands and placing them on Farkas, he looked over to the priestess and said, "Now. Broken collarbones. Shattered shoulder blades. Most of his legs. That is all that needs healing still." Her eyes went as wide as saucers when the "still" came through. Directing his attention to the brunette, Ako asked, "Please get the alchemist to send the ingredients here, along with a mortar and pestle as soon as possible. Oh, and a small magicka potion!"
As the priestess started healing Farkas, Ako pulled Aela and the brother's little magicka out of them, using it to subdue and calm the wolf spirit in Farkas. The male Nord gave a start as Ako focused, but calmed down as Aela glared at him. Ako's headache flared up again, but he kept on until the priestess finished with the last of Farkas's injuries.
With a long, exhausted sigh Ako said, "There. I think he's in the clear for now. Mostly."
Collapsing onto a nearby chair, Ako looked at Farkas's brother and said, "I suppose introductions are in order. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Aela I know. You are?" Ako slowly rubbed his temples, the splitting headache showing no signs of abating.
"Uhm… Vilkas, of the Companions," the man replied.
"Companions… hmm, something to do with Ysgramor?" Ako mused. Just as Vilkas looked to comment on his question, the doors opened and the brunette came in with a few small packs of ingredients in one hand, and a mortar and pestle in the other. Ako beckoned to her to hand him the packages, which contained the garlic, juniper, wheat and flowers. He let out a muted curse when it became clear that there was no wolfsbane.
Turning to Aela and Vilkas, he asked, "Can I ask you two something? In private?"
Nodding their assent, they moved into a private room. Ako queried in a low voice, "What's your relation to Farkas? Brothers? And are you in on the secret? Never mind how I know if you are," looking at Vilkas.
Vilkas nodded in surprise. "Yes…. We're twins."
"Great. Now, I need you to trust me. I need some of your blood, otherwise Farkas might still be crippled. His spine was crushed by the giant. I healed it as best I could, but I want to make a potion to encourage the nerves to regrow properly, instead of just connecting again. Since you share the same Blood, it will greatly improve his chances of walking properly after this. Please, for Farkas."
Vilkas felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought of magic, and now that the Arch-Mage asked for some of his blood… He wanted to refuse immediately, but if Farkas really needed it… Vilkas would do almost anything for his brother. With a long sigh, he said, "Fine. How much?"
Ako reassured him. "Only a few drops, a thimbleful at most. Get it while I prepare the rest of the potion."
Returning to Farkas's bedside, Ako started on the potion. Crushing together all the various ingredients in the mortar, he filled an empty potion bottle with water from a spring flowing through the temple. Aela returned with a tiny bottle containing a dark red liquid. Slowly adding the pungent, sweet-smelling paste to the blood and water, he summoned fire to quickly boil the concoction. Once he was satisfied the ingredients had properly released their inherent magics, he used a frost spell to cool it down to a drinkable temperature. With the priestess's help, Ako tipped the potion into the unconscious Farkas' mouth.
Vilkas confronted Ako as soon as he left the temple, demanding to know how Ako knew about the secret they shared.
Ako wearily lifted his head, "I asked. And if Aela hadn't answer, I could have figured it out on my own. But by then it would have been too late." Vilkas started to protest again, but Ako cut him off. "Please, I won't spill it, and you can question me all you want tomorrow. I'm exhausted, so just direct me to a place where I can sleep." Vilkas looked unhappy, but relented and showed Ako to an inn near the temple, named the Bannered Mare.
Inside the inn, Ako booked a room for the night. It was still early in the afternoon, so the inn was mostly empty. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he dropped his pack on the ground and flopped forward onto the bed. His headache was slightly improved, but the consequences of the sheer amount of magicka he used in an hour would bother him a few days more. His body was also screaming at him in exhaustion, having carried a man double his weight for nearly half an hour. Sleep swiftly claimed him.
The sun was high in the sky when Ako awoke the next day. His muscles were stiff and complaining, but he expected it. After 3 months on the road, he ought to be fine by tomorrow. Despite being exhausted, he didn't get a good night's rest. The dragon of Helgen plagued his dreams, again spewing mocking words in a language unknown. The nagging familiarity that accompanied the dragon was only reinforced, time and time again as he closed his eyes.
Thinking back on the nightmare served to remind Ako that he still had to talk to the Jarl about it. He resolved to seek an audience as soon as he had a quick bite to eat. He wasn't too hungry, but having not eaten in more than 24 hours always made him cranky. Add the lack of sleep to it, and Ako was seriously worried that his irritability might lead to him doing something rash.
Heading uphill after breakfast, Ako passed the temple where he had left Farkas the day before. Looking over the detailed carvings on the pillars surrounding the door, he learnt that the temple was dedicated to Kynareth, the goddess of the heavens and winds, generally associated with nature. Across from it stood a great tree, devoid of all leaves, but the bark still looked strong and healthy. The tree was surrounded by an empty bower over shallow waterways, with a few benches scattered around the courtyard. Ako could sense ancient magic about the tree, but it was subdued, dormant. Off to the eastern extremity of the city stood what seemed to be an overturned ship, with double doors set in its side.
Between the ship and the bower was a large statue, of a man in heavy chainmail. A regal cloak hung around the shoulders, and a winged helmet with an open face framed a stern visage. A large sword, presumably meant to be wielded with two hands, was held in the statue's hands, pinning a large snake to the ground while it coiled around the man's legs. This, Ako knew, was a statue of Talos, the forbidden Divine, and the nominal cause of the civil war. Whether or not the real reason was so simple, Ako did not know. He doubted it, though.
Moving to the far north, Ako climbed the stairs of Dragonsreach. 3 broad flights carried him to the top, the stairs surrounded by waterfalls that fed the city's waterways. Ako surmised that there must be a large spring under Dragonsreach for the water to continually flow like this.
Dragonsreach itself was beyond impressive. Large wooden arches rose from ground level, joined together in the centre to form a stylized dragon. This served as the bridge crossing pools of water, slow bubbling within revealing them to be the spring or springs Ako guessed to be here. The castle consisted of many tiers, climbing higher the further away from the city it went. Every single roof ridge was covered in the same stylized dragon that appeared on the front arches. Guards stood watch at the massive double doors at the end of the bridge. It was an imposing sight, somewhat reminding Ako of the College that he ran. But the college was much older.
Turning around to take in the view, Ako saw that the city was divided into 3 parts. The upper part consisted solely of Dragonsreach. A bit lower down, the overturned ship and the Temple of Kynareth were in a large residential district. Most of the houses seemed to have wealthy owners, if their condition was anything to go by. Trees, taking advantage of the shelter provided by the houses, sprung up between them. The last, and by far the largest district, was the lowest, business-oriented area. Merchant stalls, blacksmith's shops and more seemed to crowd each other for attention.
Inside the city, the population was mostly Nord, with a few exceptions. Outside, however, proved why Whiterun was a trader's hub. Outside the walls, travelling merchants had set up camp, a disparate assembly of all walks of life. Some were Khajiit like himself, selling anything and everything. A Redguard weapons merchant was showing off scimitars from his homeland. There was even an Argonian jeweller amongst them. High Rock tailors were displaying the latest fashions, with a continuous stream of female attention following. Ako chuckled at the sight.
Sitting down at the top of the stairs, he dug out his journal and stationery, sketching the view. It was a pleasant reminder of the frivolities of life, the masses going about their everyday business. Ako was engrossed with getting every detail of the roadside market onto paper, and he didn't notice one of the door guards coming up to him.
"That's a rather nice sketch you have there, cat," he said without any malice, a strong Nord accent colouring his speech.
"Thanks," Ako responded, not looking up from his drawing.
A few moments of silence passed before the guard cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow lollygaggin'. You'll have to move soon. Who are you by the way?"
Allowing the scratch of the charcoal on paper to be the only sound for a few more seconds, Ako looked up at the guard, "I am almost done. I need to speak to the Jarl anyway. I'm Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Pleased to meet you."
The guard looked uncomfortable at being around a mage, the Arch-Mage not least, but swallowed his apprehension as he said, "Hrol at your service, Arch-Mage. Sorry for disturbing you. I should've recognised the robes."
"Nonsense, you were just doing your job, no harm done. There, I'm finished now." Giving Hrol a Khajiit grin, Ako stood up as he packed his journal away. "I need to speak to the Jarl. Would you mind showing me in?"
As Ako entered the great hall, he was once again awestruck by the rich decorations of the palace. Directly in front of him was a small flight of stairs that led to the main dining area of the hall, a roaring fire pit with tables to either side. Behind the fire was a raised dais, where the throne stood. Guards stood watch on either side, the Jarl himself sitting wearing a rich cloak and jewelled diadem, in deep conversation with a bald Imperial in fine clothes. On the wall above it, a large skull hung. For some reason, Ako felt sadness tinged with anger when he saw that it was a dragon's skull.
To the left of the stairs was a door, leading to the kitchen if the smells emanating from it were anything to go by. On the right a small library could be seen behind a cluttered desk, papers scattered everywhere. Elaborate carvings, proclaiming the history of the keep, adorned the pillars that held up the roof, large banners bearing the sigil of Whiterun hanging from the galleries. Large, thick arches, the same design as those outside, came up from the galleries, carved with dragon motifs.
Ako, the curious being that he was, couldn't help but looking at and analysing the carvings. He didn't notice a Dark Elf stepping down from the dais, unsheathing a sword. As Ako came to the fire, attention still focused on the carvings, she confronted him with an authoritative voice. "What's the meaning of this intrusion? Jarl Balgruuf is not expecting visitors."
Suddenly faced with a naked sword dangerously close to his throat, Ako flinched back and panicked. He flung an outstretched hand forward, glowing with orange magicka, and the Dunmer's sword went flying upwards out of her hand, burying itself in one of the arches overhead. Ako realized what he had done, and grimaced in embarrassment. Making a show of lowering his hands, he said to the Dunmer, "My apologies. I was distracted, and you startled me. I am Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. I bring news to your Jarl, of Helgen."
Surprise replaced the furious glare on the Dunmer's face. "Helgen? Come then, the Jarl would want to speak to you personally." Walking back to the dais, she turned to the Jarl. "My Jarl, this man…"
She was interrupted by the Jarl. "Thank you Irileth, I heard. Don't be too hard on him." It was clear that he was struggling not to laugh, amusement sparkling in his eyes. With an awkward expression on his face, Ako walked forward. Seeing the empty sheath on Irileth's hip, he held out a hand, again glowing with the orange telekinetic magicka. The sword jiggled itself free from the rafter it was stuck in, and came flying into his hand. He held it out hilt-first to Irileth, who took it with a fierce scowl aimed at Ako.
Jarl Balgruuf couldn't keep his mirth contained any more, and chuckled softly for a bit. Composing himself, he turned to Ako. "Welcome Arch-Mage. It has been long since any wearing those robes graced these halls."
Ako bowed and said, "I thank you, my Jarl. My apologies for the entry." Sparing a quick glance at the glowering Dunmer, he added, "I was startled. The curse of the scholar; curiosity, distraction and being absentminded."
The Jarl chuckled again, "No harm done. It was comical to see." Turning serious, he added, "So, you were at Helgen? What can you tell me about the dragon?"
Ako quickly related what he could about the dragon and their subsequent escape, leaving out the details of how he came to be in Helgen in the first place. As he finished, the Jarl turned to the Imperial he was talking to when Ako entered. "I should've guessed Ulfric is mixed up in this. What say you now, Proventus? Do we continue to trust in the strength of our walls against a dragon?"
Irileth immediately answered, "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It is in the most immediate danger if the dragon is lurking in the mountains."
The bald Imperial said in affronted tones, "The Jarl of Falkreath will view it as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him!" He looked ready to continue with his protestations, but the Jarl imposed his authority.
"Enough! I will not stand by and let my hold burn and my people get slaughtered. Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."
"Yes, my Jarl!" Saluting and turning to leave, Irileth was stopped by Ako's hand on her arm.
"Tell the guardsmen who are going that they should be prepared to be distractions while the townspeople get into cellars or somewhere underground. They won't kill the dragon, especially not if it is the same one," Ako advised.
Irileth retorted, "Whiterun's guards are the best in Skyrim. They can take care of a dragon."
Ako rolled his eyes. "Not this one, it was bloody invincible. I threw two spears of ice at its head, which should have been enough to take care of pretty much anything in Tamriel. They just shattered against the scales."
As Irileth nodded, and went off to find her guards, Proventus looked at Ako in fear. "What do you mean, if it is the same one? There's more of these horrors?"
Ako nodded gravely. "Quite probably. There's Helgen's dragon, and there's one behind you. I'm sure this is not the last of them," he said, pointing at the skull hanging above the throne.
Proventus's eyes widened in fear, while the Jarl just nodded sagely. "Thank you for bringing this news to me, on your own initiative. I am glad to have someone like you as Arch-Mage."
"I am honoured to have your esteem, my Jarl," Ako replied.
Standing up, Balgruuf said, "There is another thing you can help with, if you're willing. Come, let's find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into these… rumours of dragons."
At hearing the name, Ako's ears perked up. "Farengar? So this is where he ended up. Interesting."
"You know him?" the Jarl asked.
"Yes, he enrolled in the College when I was a senior student, about a year before I became Arch-Mage. He left during my second year in the position. I don't think he remembers me, he was a diligent student, so we didn't talk a lot. Less after I became Arch-Mage." Snorting, Ako added, "I remember sitting in the library on occasion, and eavesdropping on some of the younger students. A common sentiment amongst them was that Farengar was, and I quote, 'A cocky, arrogant bastard.' From what I know, that was an accurate description."
The Jarl laughed at Ako's words, and replied, "He hasn't changed much."
Walking into the laboratory on the east of the dining hall, the Jarl spoke. "Farengar! I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead, fill him in with all the details."
Farengar was a relatively young Nord, in his late twenties, wearing a hooded blue robe, with arcane sigils decorating it. An enchanting table stood next to an alchemical lab, various apparatuses lying scattered around in a mess. A large map of Skyrim took up half of one wall. Two doors were at the back of the room, the open one leading to a small library.
The court mage was hunched over the cluttered desk Ako had seen earlier, scribbling notes with a few books lying open. He spoke without looking up from his work. "So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use. Yes, I could use someone to fetch me an artefact. Well, it may or may not be in an ancient ruin not far from here. I would get it myself, but that's a job for a brute like yourself, not a court mage."
The Jarl and Ako both burst into laughter. Ako chuckled, "Oh my, even worse than I remember. I didn't know you added 'condescending' to your traits as well. And then the students wonder why the Nords don't like mages."
Farengar finally looked up from his work, glaring in annoyance at the Khajiit who had insulted him. His eyes went wide as he took in the Arch-Mage's robes and stuttered an apology, "Arch-Mage?! M-my apologies, sir, I didn't think…. I didn't mean…"
"Save it. I don't have time for bootlickers," Ako snapped in a cold tone. "Despite your total failure in character, you are a good researcher, so I will still help. What can you tell me about dragons? I haven't been at the College in 3 months, so your research would be a good place to start."
The Jarl chuckled at Farengar's predicament, and turned to Ako as the court mage scurried around, grabbing papers and trying to gather his flustered thoughts back into a coherent pattern. "Anything you can dig up that could help us, is a priority now. Thank you, Arch-Mage, Whiterun will be in your debt."
Ako smiled. "Not to worry. Anything that nearly kills me will have my attention. And please, Jarl Balgruuf, call me Ako."
As the Jarl left, Farengar started explaining what he managed to dig up on dragons. "I don't have much. As far as I can tell, the Nords of old, as they came to Tamriel from Atmora, brought their religion along. This revolved around the worship of symbolic creatures, embodying certain traits such as wisdom or compassion. Chief amongst these was the dragon and its strength. Somewhere along the line, the actual dragons were placed into the pantheon, and they were worshipped as gods.
"However, the dragon cult ruled with an unmatched cruelty, and as such the ancient Nords rebelled. Somehow they managed to win the Dragon War, and most dragons were hunted down. A few survived into the early third Era, but they were thought extinct until now. I assume you have read the Enchanting work, 'Twin Secrets'? Anyway, that is about it. I have it on good authority that an ancient map of dragon burial sites is interred in a nearby barrow, which should prove a good lead. I have asked the Jarl to be on the lookout for a mercenary to fetch it."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Ako looked at Farengar in contempt. "Really? You were trained at the college, and you can't handle a simple dungeon run? I'm tempted to call you a worthless paper pusher."
"I'll have you know the Jarl himself suggested I get a mercenary," Farengar retorted.
Ako chuckled mirthlessly. "And you never even considered being less of a milk drinker. I'll get it, I haven't done a dungeon run in ages. It will be good to practice my magic on something other than weak-willed bandits. So where is it?"
Farengar looked highly embarrassed by this point and mumbled, "Bleak Falls Barrow. South of here."
"Right. Paper and charcoal please, as large a roll as possible. If the ruin is anything like those I've seen before, then there will be stuff I want to make rubbings of," Ako asked.
Farengar scrambled to comply with his request. Ako left without further words, leaving the court mage to stew in his own incompetence. Seeing Ako enter the great hall, the Jarl called to him. "Ako, my friend. What have you found out?"
Ako sighed heavily. "Little and less. All we know is that dragons were supposed to be extinct and now they're not. Your paper pusher of a court mage found a lead though. I leave in the morning to follow up on it. I have a favour to ask of you, my Jarl."
Balgruuf looked intrigued, leaning forward. "Ask away."
Ako nodded his thanks. "If anyone in your hold displays magical talent, I ask that you encourage them to join the college. I have a feeling that Skyrim can do with a lot more mages and people with healing abilities. Especially if the dragons have returned for good."
Balgruuf answered in agreement, "That is a sensible request. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I'll keep an eye out for a more competent court mage for you. I'm of the opinion that a paper pusher is not suited for the position in times such as this," Ako finished. "I'll be back once I sought out Farengar's lead. By your leave, my Jarl."
"Gods guide you, Ako," the Jarl said in farewell.
"You! Where's my claw?" he demanded angrily.
"Your what? What are you talking about?" Ako asked, sleep still heavy in his voice.
"My golden claw! I refused to sell it to you, and now it's been stolen! Do you take me for a fool?" Lucan answered.
Dispelling the last dregs of sleep from his eyes, Ako answered calmly. "It's been stolen? What a coincidence. And no, it wasn't me. You can ask Delphine; I didn't leave the inn at all. Although, I don't exactly blame you for coming to the conclusion that you did, Lucan."
Lucan appeared surprised at the serene tone of Ako's voice. "What? But... argh, I was sure of it! Ugh. For what it's worth, sorry. I should have realized it wasn't you when the thieves mentioned Bleak Falls Barrow."
Ako felt pity for the man's sheepish tone. "Forget about it. If I ever come across it, I'll be sure to let you know."
A quick breakfast later, and Ako was on the road north. Whiterun lay at the end of another 8 or so hours' walk, leaving him with plenty of time to talk with the Jarl before the day was out. If all went well, Ako would be back in Winterhold by the end of the week. He'd been away from the college for too long.
As he walked, he noted the abundance of wildlife. Many birds were chittering loudly in the trees, fleeing from a hawk, or scratching on the ground in search of food. Rabbits were bolting from holes near the road, the white tails like a flashing beacon trailing them. Elk were scattered in the trees, skittishly jumping when they caught the Arch-Mage's scent. The deer were less cautious, sparing only a slight glance in his direction from the riverside where they grazed.
After about two hours of travel, Ako caught a faint smell of wolves. While as a Khajiit he had a better olfactory sense than any human or elf, he had been raised by Bretons, and therefore was untrained in the delicate nuances that other Khajiit could pick up. As he rounded a large boulder, he found the source, a small pack. He didn't really want to fight, preferring to leave them in peace.
Unfortunately, the wolves gave Ako no such luxury. Without even a warning growl, the first wolf flung itself at Ako. Its trajectory in the air was abruptly reversed, courtesy of a large spike of ice that impaled the wolf against a tree. The rest of the wolves soon followed suit, smaller but no less deadly icy projectiles thrown from Ako's hands, piercing their throats or hearts. Ako grumbled in annoyance as the last wolf yelped, ice sticking from its eye. He hadn't wanted to kill them, preferring a live and let live approach. Then again, the roads of Skyrim weren't a stroll in the park.
The road continued to meander lazily next to the river, but not too far ahead Ako could see the spray as the White River plummeted to the plains of Whiterun. When he got to the twisting path leading down, he was stunned by the vista that spread out before him. Vast plains of golden grass surrounded a city on a hill, topped by a magnificent castle. Ako realised that must be Whiterun, and the famous Dragonsreach castle, his destination. He was still a good four hours away from the city, but even from this far out he could see it was a prosperous place.
Ako spent the next few minutes making a quick sketch of the view that stretched out before him. He wasn't a gifted artist, but he liked to have memory aids of beautiful sights. For the umpteenth time this journey he regretted that he had never left Winterhold. Ako had never truly realised how beautiful Skyrim was. He had seen some of it in his dreams, but even that didn't compare to the real thing. Perhaps he would take time to explore it properly once he got back. The months of travelling had a way of inducing a wanderlust that Ako had never known before.
Descending to the plains, Ako caught a whiff of honey on the breeze. He wondered what it was, until he came to a building with a sign declaring it to be the Honningbrew Meadery. Ako wasn't a drinker himself, but he appreciated the dedication that went into the brewing process itself. Large fields of wildflowers coloured the landscape behind the meadery, buzzing bees busily gathering pollen for the honey of the meadery.
The roaring river that he'd kept at his shoulder for the past two days drifted off to the west, having been joined by a smaller river originating from Whiterun. Ako passed a few guards patrolling the road, a few tents scattered around the meadery serving as shelter. Large windmills were strewn about the farmlands surrounding Whiterun, becoming ever more imposing as Ako came closer to the city.
As he passed the first farmlands, an angry roar came from within a walled cabbage field. Ako turned his head to see a large humanoid figure, covered in intricate, swirling tattoos and scars, wielding the femur of some massive creature as a club. He had heard of these creatures, but it was his first time actually seeing a live giant. They wandered the tundra, tending to be peaceful as they herded mammoths, but occasionally one went rogue, such as this one obviously had.
Edging closer, spells readied in case the giant decided to pancake him, Ako saw the cause of the giant's ire; 3 warriors clad in armour. One older female Nord, a redheaded archer, stood a bit away unloading her quiver into the giant with frightening speed. She wore a strange, ancient-looking armour, which left little of her body to the imagination. Another female, an Imperial brunette clad in leather with sword and shield darted in closer, stabbing at the giant's calves. Lastly, a male Nord who could almost be classified as a giant himself, wielding a massive greatsword with deceptive ease.
The warriors seemed to have the situation under control, until the giant lifted his club and swept it down with a wide arc. At the bottom of the arc was the male warrior, and screams of rage from the females. The crunch of bone and steel was audible as he went flying into the low wall 30 feet away with a bone-crunching impact. Ako immediately realised the man must be dead or very near to it, and stepped in.
Fire flew from his hands, engulfing the giant in white-hot flames, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air as the giant was turned to ash by the intense magical flames Ako produced. Ako ran as fast as he could towards the wrecked warrior, again dropping to his knees next to a mortally wounded man. The steel armour was dented and fractured in most places, the elaborate decorations horribly disfigured, and cutting into the man's flesh in a way that made it impossible to remove quickly.
Ako focused his magicka, drawing on the magicka of the world around him to assist him. He sent out tendrils of energy into the man's body, trying to determine where the healing is most needed. However, to his great surprise, a foreign magickal energy violently repelled his, resisting all attempts to discern what is broken. Ako looked at the man's companions with a fire in his eyes, and cast a quick spell at them, designed to reveal magical energies.
His eyes, slightly glowing beneath his hood from the magickal sight of the spell, immediately snapped towards the redhead. In clipped, urgent tones he asked, "What are you?"
Aela stood in shock as the strange Khajiit stared intensely at her, asking her what she was. 'How could he possibly know?' she asked herself. She had never seen or heard of him, and was unequipped to deal with the potential ramifications of exposing their secret to a complete stranger. Anger fuelled by panic coursed through her veins, after her heart got stuck in her throat as her Shield-Brother went flying.
"What are you talking about, cat?" she replied defensively.
"You and he share something, what is it?" the cat snapped back.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Aela retorted, but her voice quavered just a bit, betraying her fear and insecurity with Farkas so injured.
Stifling a groan, the cat turned his attention to Ria, the brunette. "You, get a cart from the farmer. This guy needs to get to the temple. Move it!" Ria scurried off in the farm's direction. The cat immediately returned his forceful gaze to Aela, and demanded, "She's gone now. You and he share something that interferes with my healing. If you want him to live, you'll tell me what you are. Now!"
Aela struggled with her emotions for a few brief seconds, then answered in defeat, "Werewolf. We're werewolves."
The cat's dark eyes brightened slightly, and a golden light enveloped him and Farkas. Farkas's rapid, shallow breaths slowed and deepened slightly, and Aela let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
As the redhead revealed the secret, Ako immediately realised why his healing wouldn't work. 'Of course! The wolf spirit would interfere with my magicka, seeing it as a threat perhaps.' Ako changed the spell slightly, diverting some of his focus to soothing the wild animal, similar to what he did for the bear in Helgen's caves not two days earlier. Immediately he felt the foreign energy, the wolf spirit, calm down and allow his magicka access, though not fully.
Ako felt broken ribs, punctured lungs, a shattered pelvis and a crushed spine amongst other injuries, the sheer amount of severe injuries stunning him. The warrior was immensely lucky to have avoided hitting his head. Ako healed the ribs as best he could, removing splinters from the lungs and sealing it back up. The warrior's breathing eased up, allowing Ako to take a slight breather and focus on the other injuries that could cripple him for life.
The brunette warrior returned, stammering, "T - there is no cart at the farm."
Ako thought intensely for a few moments, dredging up his alchemy knowledge. "Run to the city, warn your people. Get the alchemist to gather the following ingredients for when I get there, he'll need it: garlic, juniper berries, wheat and blue mountain flowers. If he has it, wolfsbane petals too. If he doesn't, ask the court mage."
The Imperial repeated the list a few times before she ran off. Turning to Ako, the redheaded Nord had a furious scowl on her face. "Are you insane?! Do you even know what wolfsbane does to werewolves?"
"Probably better than even you do. I mean neither you nor him any harm. If the alchemist doesn't have any I'll have to ask for some of your blood. Come, help me remove his armour," Ako replied, with a hint of scorn in his voice. The Nord still radiated anger, but did as he asked. "We can't just pull it off, it has bent and hooked into his skin. We'll have to take it apart bit by bit. Cut all the straps along the side for me please?" Ako asked, pointing out the fragmented steel on the warrior's front and back.
The archer did as she was asked, taking out a steel dagger and deftly severing the leather straps that held the armour together. Once the various pieces of the armour was separated, Ako instructed the redhead to carefully remove them, keeping his hands on the injured Nord to keep him unconscious. As the first piece of dented armour came off, pieces of flesh sticking to the jagged edges of steel, the dark-haired man jerked in obvious pain. Ako fought to keep him unconscious, forcing his magicka to leech the pain away. After a slow, painful and laborious few minutes of removing armour, Ako could finally start to heal the man without having him squeezed between back and front.
With the Nord dressed only in bloody underarmour, the redhead asked Ako, "Why did you wait to start removing his armour?"
Ako replied, "Because he was that close to death. I needed to heal his internal injuries sufficiently for him to withstand the shock of removing the mangled pieces of metal. He'll live. I don't know if he will be crippled or not, though I certainly intend to try my best to prevent it." Ako started healing the man's crushed vertebrae, deeming them to be the most vital of the various injuries remaining.
Once he finished with that, he pulled out a blue potion to restore some of his magicka from his bag and downed it with a grimace. As he finished with the most serious of injuries, Ako realized his magicka was almost fully drained. He felt exhausted, but knew there was some way to go yet. Once again directing his attention to the redhead, he asked, "How far is it to the temple in the city, …"
"Aela. My name is Aela," she replied. "The city and temple are about half an hour travel from here. How will we get Farkas there? He certainly can't do it on his own."
Ako let out an exhausted sigh. "I'll carry him."
Aela did a double-take at his words. "What?"
"Get my pack and your stuff, I'll carry him."
"But how? You are so skinny, he must weigh at least double what you do," Aela spluttered in astonishment.
Focusing the last of his magicka, Ako first sent it to his core muscles, strengthening them as he picked up the giant of a Nord. 6'6 if he was an inch, weighing at least 250 pounds, strained Ako's muscles, enhanced strength and all. Aela could only stare in astonishment as the lean Khajiit lifted Farkas up into a rescue carry, the heavyset Nord slung across his shoulders making for a surreal picture.
Ako stifled a groan as he transferred the spell fortifying his strength to his legs, and took off with firm strides in the direction of Whiterun. He hoped the slight trickle of magicka needed to sustain his strength would last until he reached the city. He heard Aela cursing behind him, picking up his pack and the weapon of the big Nord, Farkas. The ruined armour was left behind, good for nothing but scrap.
A short while later Ako passed the stables near the city gates. Aela was pacing a few steps ahead of him, dealing with the astonished bystanders and guards all staring at him carrying the big Nord. He hated the attention, but right now he couldn't care less, not if a proper life was at stake. Even his own immense reserves of magicka weren't enough to heal everything resulting from the beating.
Hurrying through the city, a pounding headache began forming behind his eyes. This warned Ako that his magicka was dangerously low, and he felt his fortifying spell slip momentarily. His knees buckled slightly as a result, and he dug deep, scrounging up every last bit of his magicka just to sustain him to the temple. His headache intensified such that he couldn't pay attention to anything other than putting one foot ahead of the other, tagging behind Aela.
Trudging up a flight of stairs, he vaguely heard the brunette from earlier, calling from a nearby door. Stumbling through, he felt hands ushering him to a nearby stone table, where he used the last of his sagging strength to gently lay Farkas on his side. As Ako's headache started to clear up slightly, since he was no longer expending any magicka, he noticed the people near him.
One was the brunette he had used as errand girl, standing near Aela. The other was a man who looked nearly identical to the injured man, with an expression of urgent worry in his eyes. Ako thought that this must be a brother of Farkas. The last person to enter was an elderly Nord woman, wearing light brown robes with a faded yellow hood, indicating her to be a priestess.
As she raised her hands to pump healing magic into Farkas, Ako managed to yell with a voice hoarse from exhaustion, "Wait, no!"
The priestess flinched from the strange Khajiit's forceful voice. Ako turned to Aela, beckoning her and Farkas's brother to come closer. Taking their hands and placing them on Farkas, he looked over to the priestess and said, "Now. Broken collarbones. Shattered shoulder blades. Most of his legs. That is all that needs healing still." Her eyes went as wide as saucers when the "still" came through. Directing his attention to the brunette, Ako asked, "Please get the alchemist to send the ingredients here, along with a mortar and pestle as soon as possible. Oh, and a small magicka potion!"
As the priestess started healing Farkas, Ako pulled Aela and the brother's little magicka out of them, using it to subdue and calm the wolf spirit in Farkas. The male Nord gave a start as Ako focused, but calmed down as Aela glared at him. Ako's headache flared up again, but he kept on until the priestess finished with the last of Farkas's injuries.
With a long, exhausted sigh Ako said, "There. I think he's in the clear for now. Mostly."
Collapsing onto a nearby chair, Ako looked at Farkas's brother and said, "I suppose introductions are in order. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Aela I know. You are?" Ako slowly rubbed his temples, the splitting headache showing no signs of abating.
"Uhm… Vilkas, of the Companions," the man replied.
"Companions… hmm, something to do with Ysgramor?" Ako mused. Just as Vilkas looked to comment on his question, the doors opened and the brunette came in with a few small packs of ingredients in one hand, and a mortar and pestle in the other. Ako beckoned to her to hand him the packages, which contained the garlic, juniper, wheat and flowers. He let out a muted curse when it became clear that there was no wolfsbane.
Turning to Aela and Vilkas, he asked, "Can I ask you two something? In private?"
Nodding their assent, they moved into a private room. Ako queried in a low voice, "What's your relation to Farkas? Brothers? And are you in on the secret? Never mind how I know if you are," looking at Vilkas.
Vilkas nodded in surprise. "Yes…. We're twins."
"Great. Now, I need you to trust me. I need some of your blood, otherwise Farkas might still be crippled. His spine was crushed by the giant. I healed it as best I could, but I want to make a potion to encourage the nerves to regrow properly, instead of just connecting again. Since you share the same Blood, it will greatly improve his chances of walking properly after this. Please, for Farkas."
Vilkas felt extremely uncomfortable at the thought of magic, and now that the Arch-Mage asked for some of his blood… He wanted to refuse immediately, but if Farkas really needed it… Vilkas would do almost anything for his brother. With a long sigh, he said, "Fine. How much?"
Ako reassured him. "Only a few drops, a thimbleful at most. Get it while I prepare the rest of the potion."
Returning to Farkas's bedside, Ako started on the potion. Crushing together all the various ingredients in the mortar, he filled an empty potion bottle with water from a spring flowing through the temple. Aela returned with a tiny bottle containing a dark red liquid. Slowly adding the pungent, sweet-smelling paste to the blood and water, he summoned fire to quickly boil the concoction. Once he was satisfied the ingredients had properly released their inherent magics, he used a frost spell to cool it down to a drinkable temperature. With the priestess's help, Ako tipped the potion into the unconscious Farkas' mouth.
Vilkas confronted Ako as soon as he left the temple, demanding to know how Ako knew about the secret they shared.
Ako wearily lifted his head, "I asked. And if Aela hadn't answer, I could have figured it out on my own. But by then it would have been too late." Vilkas started to protest again, but Ako cut him off. "Please, I won't spill it, and you can question me all you want tomorrow. I'm exhausted, so just direct me to a place where I can sleep." Vilkas looked unhappy, but relented and showed Ako to an inn near the temple, named the Bannered Mare.
Inside the inn, Ako booked a room for the night. It was still early in the afternoon, so the inn was mostly empty. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he dropped his pack on the ground and flopped forward onto the bed. His headache was slightly improved, but the consequences of the sheer amount of magicka he used in an hour would bother him a few days more. His body was also screaming at him in exhaustion, having carried a man double his weight for nearly half an hour. Sleep swiftly claimed him.
The sun was high in the sky when Ako awoke the next day. His muscles were stiff and complaining, but he expected it. After 3 months on the road, he ought to be fine by tomorrow. Despite being exhausted, he didn't get a good night's rest. The dragon of Helgen plagued his dreams, again spewing mocking words in a language unknown. The nagging familiarity that accompanied the dragon was only reinforced, time and time again as he closed his eyes.
Thinking back on the nightmare served to remind Ako that he still had to talk to the Jarl about it. He resolved to seek an audience as soon as he had a quick bite to eat. He wasn't too hungry, but having not eaten in more than 24 hours always made him cranky. Add the lack of sleep to it, and Ako was seriously worried that his irritability might lead to him doing something rash.
Heading uphill after breakfast, Ako passed the temple where he had left Farkas the day before. Looking over the detailed carvings on the pillars surrounding the door, he learnt that the temple was dedicated to Kynareth, the goddess of the heavens and winds, generally associated with nature. Across from it stood a great tree, devoid of all leaves, but the bark still looked strong and healthy. The tree was surrounded by an empty bower over shallow waterways, with a few benches scattered around the courtyard. Ako could sense ancient magic about the tree, but it was subdued, dormant. Off to the eastern extremity of the city stood what seemed to be an overturned ship, with double doors set in its side.
Between the ship and the bower was a large statue, of a man in heavy chainmail. A regal cloak hung around the shoulders, and a winged helmet with an open face framed a stern visage. A large sword, presumably meant to be wielded with two hands, was held in the statue's hands, pinning a large snake to the ground while it coiled around the man's legs. This, Ako knew, was a statue of Talos, the forbidden Divine, and the nominal cause of the civil war. Whether or not the real reason was so simple, Ako did not know. He doubted it, though.
Moving to the far north, Ako climbed the stairs of Dragonsreach. 3 broad flights carried him to the top, the stairs surrounded by waterfalls that fed the city's waterways. Ako surmised that there must be a large spring under Dragonsreach for the water to continually flow like this.
Dragonsreach itself was beyond impressive. Large wooden arches rose from ground level, joined together in the centre to form a stylized dragon. This served as the bridge crossing pools of water, slow bubbling within revealing them to be the spring or springs Ako guessed to be here. The castle consisted of many tiers, climbing higher the further away from the city it went. Every single roof ridge was covered in the same stylized dragon that appeared on the front arches. Guards stood watch at the massive double doors at the end of the bridge. It was an imposing sight, somewhat reminding Ako of the College that he ran. But the college was much older.
Turning around to take in the view, Ako saw that the city was divided into 3 parts. The upper part consisted solely of Dragonsreach. A bit lower down, the overturned ship and the Temple of Kynareth were in a large residential district. Most of the houses seemed to have wealthy owners, if their condition was anything to go by. Trees, taking advantage of the shelter provided by the houses, sprung up between them. The last, and by far the largest district, was the lowest, business-oriented area. Merchant stalls, blacksmith's shops and more seemed to crowd each other for attention.
Inside the city, the population was mostly Nord, with a few exceptions. Outside, however, proved why Whiterun was a trader's hub. Outside the walls, travelling merchants had set up camp, a disparate assembly of all walks of life. Some were Khajiit like himself, selling anything and everything. A Redguard weapons merchant was showing off scimitars from his homeland. There was even an Argonian jeweller amongst them. High Rock tailors were displaying the latest fashions, with a continuous stream of female attention following. Ako chuckled at the sight.
Sitting down at the top of the stairs, he dug out his journal and stationery, sketching the view. It was a pleasant reminder of the frivolities of life, the masses going about their everyday business. Ako was engrossed with getting every detail of the roadside market onto paper, and he didn't notice one of the door guards coming up to him.
"That's a rather nice sketch you have there, cat," he said without any malice, a strong Nord accent colouring his speech.
"Thanks," Ako responded, not looking up from his drawing.
A few moments of silence passed before the guard cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow lollygaggin'. You'll have to move soon. Who are you by the way?"
Allowing the scratch of the charcoal on paper to be the only sound for a few more seconds, Ako looked up at the guard, "I am almost done. I need to speak to the Jarl anyway. I'm Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. Pleased to meet you."
The guard looked uncomfortable at being around a mage, the Arch-Mage not least, but swallowed his apprehension as he said, "Hrol at your service, Arch-Mage. Sorry for disturbing you. I should've recognised the robes."
"Nonsense, you were just doing your job, no harm done. There, I'm finished now." Giving Hrol a Khajiit grin, Ako stood up as he packed his journal away. "I need to speak to the Jarl. Would you mind showing me in?"
As Ako entered the great hall, he was once again awestruck by the rich decorations of the palace. Directly in front of him was a small flight of stairs that led to the main dining area of the hall, a roaring fire pit with tables to either side. Behind the fire was a raised dais, where the throne stood. Guards stood watch on either side, the Jarl himself sitting wearing a rich cloak and jewelled diadem, in deep conversation with a bald Imperial in fine clothes. On the wall above it, a large skull hung. For some reason, Ako felt sadness tinged with anger when he saw that it was a dragon's skull.
To the left of the stairs was a door, leading to the kitchen if the smells emanating from it were anything to go by. On the right a small library could be seen behind a cluttered desk, papers scattered everywhere. Elaborate carvings, proclaiming the history of the keep, adorned the pillars that held up the roof, large banners bearing the sigil of Whiterun hanging from the galleries. Large, thick arches, the same design as those outside, came up from the galleries, carved with dragon motifs.
Ako, the curious being that he was, couldn't help but looking at and analysing the carvings. He didn't notice a Dark Elf stepping down from the dais, unsheathing a sword. As Ako came to the fire, attention still focused on the carvings, she confronted him with an authoritative voice. "What's the meaning of this intrusion? Jarl Balgruuf is not expecting visitors."
Suddenly faced with a naked sword dangerously close to his throat, Ako flinched back and panicked. He flung an outstretched hand forward, glowing with orange magicka, and the Dunmer's sword went flying upwards out of her hand, burying itself in one of the arches overhead. Ako realized what he had done, and grimaced in embarrassment. Making a show of lowering his hands, he said to the Dunmer, "My apologies. I was distracted, and you startled me. I am Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold. I bring news to your Jarl, of Helgen."
Surprise replaced the furious glare on the Dunmer's face. "Helgen? Come then, the Jarl would want to speak to you personally." Walking back to the dais, she turned to the Jarl. "My Jarl, this man…"
She was interrupted by the Jarl. "Thank you Irileth, I heard. Don't be too hard on him." It was clear that he was struggling not to laugh, amusement sparkling in his eyes. With an awkward expression on his face, Ako walked forward. Seeing the empty sheath on Irileth's hip, he held out a hand, again glowing with the orange telekinetic magicka. The sword jiggled itself free from the rafter it was stuck in, and came flying into his hand. He held it out hilt-first to Irileth, who took it with a fierce scowl aimed at Ako.
Jarl Balgruuf couldn't keep his mirth contained any more, and chuckled softly for a bit. Composing himself, he turned to Ako. "Welcome Arch-Mage. It has been long since any wearing those robes graced these halls."
Ako bowed and said, "I thank you, my Jarl. My apologies for the entry." Sparing a quick glance at the glowering Dunmer, he added, "I was startled. The curse of the scholar; curiosity, distraction and being absentminded."
The Jarl chuckled again, "No harm done. It was comical to see." Turning serious, he added, "So, you were at Helgen? What can you tell me about the dragon?"
Ako quickly related what he could about the dragon and their subsequent escape, leaving out the details of how he came to be in Helgen in the first place. As he finished, the Jarl turned to the Imperial he was talking to when Ako entered. "I should've guessed Ulfric is mixed up in this. What say you now, Proventus? Do we continue to trust in the strength of our walls against a dragon?"
Irileth immediately answered, "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It is in the most immediate danger if the dragon is lurking in the mountains."
The bald Imperial said in affronted tones, "The Jarl of Falkreath will view it as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him!" He looked ready to continue with his protestations, but the Jarl imposed his authority.
"Enough! I will not stand by and let my hold burn and my people get slaughtered. Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."
"Yes, my Jarl!" Saluting and turning to leave, Irileth was stopped by Ako's hand on her arm.
"Tell the guardsmen who are going that they should be prepared to be distractions while the townspeople get into cellars or somewhere underground. They won't kill the dragon, especially not if it is the same one," Ako advised.
Irileth retorted, "Whiterun's guards are the best in Skyrim. They can take care of a dragon."
Ako rolled his eyes. "Not this one, it was bloody invincible. I threw two spears of ice at its head, which should have been enough to take care of pretty much anything in Tamriel. They just shattered against the scales."
As Irileth nodded, and went off to find her guards, Proventus looked at Ako in fear. "What do you mean, if it is the same one? There's more of these horrors?"
Ako nodded gravely. "Quite probably. There's Helgen's dragon, and there's one behind you. I'm sure this is not the last of them," he said, pointing at the skull hanging above the throne.
Proventus's eyes widened in fear, while the Jarl just nodded sagely. "Thank you for bringing this news to me, on your own initiative. I am glad to have someone like you as Arch-Mage."
"I am honoured to have your esteem, my Jarl," Ako replied.
Standing up, Balgruuf said, "There is another thing you can help with, if you're willing. Come, let's find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into these… rumours of dragons."
At hearing the name, Ako's ears perked up. "Farengar? So this is where he ended up. Interesting."
"You know him?" the Jarl asked.
"Yes, he enrolled in the College when I was a senior student, about a year before I became Arch-Mage. He left during my second year in the position. I don't think he remembers me, he was a diligent student, so we didn't talk a lot. Less after I became Arch-Mage." Snorting, Ako added, "I remember sitting in the library on occasion, and eavesdropping on some of the younger students. A common sentiment amongst them was that Farengar was, and I quote, 'A cocky, arrogant bastard.' From what I know, that was an accurate description."
The Jarl laughed at Ako's words, and replied, "He hasn't changed much."
Walking into the laboratory on the east of the dining hall, the Jarl spoke. "Farengar! I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead, fill him in with all the details."
Farengar was a relatively young Nord, in his late twenties, wearing a hooded blue robe, with arcane sigils decorating it. An enchanting table stood next to an alchemical lab, various apparatuses lying scattered around in a mess. A large map of Skyrim took up half of one wall. Two doors were at the back of the room, the open one leading to a small library.
The court mage was hunched over the cluttered desk Ako had seen earlier, scribbling notes with a few books lying open. He spoke without looking up from his work. "So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use. Yes, I could use someone to fetch me an artefact. Well, it may or may not be in an ancient ruin not far from here. I would get it myself, but that's a job for a brute like yourself, not a court mage."
The Jarl and Ako both burst into laughter. Ako chuckled, "Oh my, even worse than I remember. I didn't know you added 'condescending' to your traits as well. And then the students wonder why the Nords don't like mages."
Farengar finally looked up from his work, glaring in annoyance at the Khajiit who had insulted him. His eyes went wide as he took in the Arch-Mage's robes and stuttered an apology, "Arch-Mage?! M-my apologies, sir, I didn't think…. I didn't mean…"
"Save it. I don't have time for bootlickers," Ako snapped in a cold tone. "Despite your total failure in character, you are a good researcher, so I will still help. What can you tell me about dragons? I haven't been at the College in 3 months, so your research would be a good place to start."
The Jarl chuckled at Farengar's predicament, and turned to Ako as the court mage scurried around, grabbing papers and trying to gather his flustered thoughts back into a coherent pattern. "Anything you can dig up that could help us, is a priority now. Thank you, Arch-Mage, Whiterun will be in your debt."
Ako smiled. "Not to worry. Anything that nearly kills me will have my attention. And please, Jarl Balgruuf, call me Ako."
As the Jarl left, Farengar started explaining what he managed to dig up on dragons. "I don't have much. As far as I can tell, the Nords of old, as they came to Tamriel from Atmora, brought their religion along. This revolved around the worship of symbolic creatures, embodying certain traits such as wisdom or compassion. Chief amongst these was the dragon and its strength. Somewhere along the line, the actual dragons were placed into the pantheon, and they were worshipped as gods.
"However, the dragon cult ruled with an unmatched cruelty, and as such the ancient Nords rebelled. Somehow they managed to win the Dragon War, and most dragons were hunted down. A few survived into the early third Era, but they were thought extinct until now. I assume you have read the Enchanting work, 'Twin Secrets'? Anyway, that is about it. I have it on good authority that an ancient map of dragon burial sites is interred in a nearby barrow, which should prove a good lead. I have asked the Jarl to be on the lookout for a mercenary to fetch it."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Ako looked at Farengar in contempt. "Really? You were trained at the college, and you can't handle a simple dungeon run? I'm tempted to call you a worthless paper pusher."
"I'll have you know the Jarl himself suggested I get a mercenary," Farengar retorted.
Ako chuckled mirthlessly. "And you never even considered being less of a milk drinker. I'll get it, I haven't done a dungeon run in ages. It will be good to practice my magic on something other than weak-willed bandits. So where is it?"
Farengar looked highly embarrassed by this point and mumbled, "Bleak Falls Barrow. South of here."
"Right. Paper and charcoal please, as large a roll as possible. If the ruin is anything like those I've seen before, then there will be stuff I want to make rubbings of," Ako asked.
Farengar scrambled to comply with his request. Ako left without further words, leaving the court mage to stew in his own incompetence. Seeing Ako enter the great hall, the Jarl called to him. "Ako, my friend. What have you found out?"
Ako sighed heavily. "Little and less. All we know is that dragons were supposed to be extinct and now they're not. Your paper pusher of a court mage found a lead though. I leave in the morning to follow up on it. I have a favour to ask of you, my Jarl."
Balgruuf looked intrigued, leaning forward. "Ask away."
Ako nodded his thanks. "If anyone in your hold displays magical talent, I ask that you encourage them to join the college. I have a feeling that Skyrim can do with a lot more mages and people with healing abilities. Especially if the dragons have returned for good."
Balgruuf answered in agreement, "That is a sensible request. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I'll keep an eye out for a more competent court mage for you. I'm of the opinion that a paper pusher is not suited for the position in times such as this," Ako finished. "I'll be back once I sought out Farengar's lead. By your leave, my Jarl."
"Gods guide you, Ako," the Jarl said in farewell.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
And the story progresses, albeit slowly. The entire scene with the Companions was completely unplanned and just spilled out like skeletons in a broom closet. And like said skeletons, the ramifications of it haven't ended 7 chapters later. The story would have been completed by now if it weren't for these skeletons - there are more waiting. And I only know of those that popped out by now. Again, many thanks to empire1003 for her help in proofreading these first few chapters. Hope you enjoy, don't be afraid to tell me what you thought, enjoyed, and dislike.
- Location
- Italy
Farkas and Ako...
I ship it.
Beyond that, it was refreshing seeing the court mage being put in his place. Even if Ako came out as a bit more judgmental than in the previous chapters.
I ship it.
Beyond that, it was refreshing seeing the court mage being put in his place. Even if Ako came out as a bit more judgmental than in the previous chapters.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Haha. I think Ako would be very surprised and confused to see that idea before shrugging and
As for the judgemental Ako, hopefully it isn't too big a change that it can't be attributed to his exhaustion? That section did struggle both at first and on later attempts to rewrite it.
- Location
- Italy
Haha. I think Ako would be very surprised and confused to see that idea before shrugging andtrying very hard tosuccessfully ignoring it.
Yeah, it's easily explained by exhaustion, no problem.
WinterLantern
Smoked bird
- Location
- North England
The whole fish out of water whilst having been arch mage is a bit weird, but I'm liking the writing so far at least.
Chapter 3
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
The sun was still several hours away from the western horizon when Ako left Dragonsreach. It was the first time in a long while that he had been amongst any sort of nobility, and he found Jarl Balgruuf to be a pleasant surprise. He was a good man, concerned with the wellbeing of his subjects and unpretentious; Ako found the man to be worthy of only the utmost respect. If all the world's rulers were like Balgruuf, much sadness would be avoided.
Given that he would leave in the morning, Ako decided to search out an alchemy shop to stock up on potions. He was confident of handling the barrow without too many difficulties, but the aftereffects of saving Farkas might come back to haunt him if he encountered undue trouble. On the other side of the market from the inn, a sign declared the shop to be 'Arcadia's Cauldron'.
Arcadia turned out to be a kind older Imperial woman, more than happy to sell the potions to Ako. She tried to convince him to buy potions to cure disease, insinuating his white fur to be indicative of illness. A loud laugh in reply, accompanied by a glowing golden light that surrounded both Ako and Arcadia, quickly put paid to that ploy. Arcadia grudgingly conceded that, with his magic, Ako did not really need curative potions.
Ako then visited the Temple of Kynareth to check up on his patient. The smell of healing herbs filled the air, mixed with the sweetness of flowers arranged on the patients' dressers. Farkas was lying on one of the beds, awake, softly talking with his twin. Ako quietly walked closer and took a seat near the bed, asking, "So? How are you feeling today?"
Farkas looked at him, confusion etched on his face. "Who are you?"
Ako gave a soft chuckle. "Of course, you were unconscious yesterday. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold."
The Nord turned to Vilkas, chiding him, "You didn't say the Arch-Mage was a cat!"
"Sorry, it slipped my mind because, Ice-brain, you were dying!" Vilkas retorted.
Laughing again, Ako said, "Brotherly love is one of a kind. But I'm serious, how are you feeling?"
Stretching out his limbs, Farkas replied, "Great! Well, more tired than I've ever been, but still healthy, I think. I don't know how to say it."
Smiling happily, Ako said, "That's good to hear, it means everything is growing back as it should. The tiredness is merely because your body had an immense amount of healing magic forced through it."
After an awkward silence settled, Farkas cleared his throat and stammered, "Arch-Mage? I…. thank you for saving my life. Aela said without you, it would have been the end. I… thank you."
"You are most welcome, Farkas. I am glad it turned out for the best," Ako replied gently. His voice grew serious as he went on, "But listen. You should have died yesterday. I do not believe in coincidence anymore. The fact that I walked by just as you got hit, or that you didn't hit your head or that your armour bent just the right way that I could keep you alive long enough to get it off…"
Taking a deep breath, Ako said, "Someone was looking out for you. I don't know who or what, for whatever reasons, but you are here, where you should be dead. My advice is that you take this second chance, and make it worth it."
Letting Farkas get more sleep and rest, Ako and Vilkas left the temple. The Khajiit stopped under the old tree and turned to Vilkas.
"I believe you wanted to talk to me?"
Vilkas nodded and replied, "Not just me. The rest of the Circle as well. Follow me, I'll take you to a place where you can wait while I get the rest."
As they walked towards the upturned boat, Ako remembered that Vilkas introduced himself as 'of the Companions.' He wanted to ask about it then, but was interrupted by the arriving ingredients. He asked Vilkas, "What can you tell me about the Companions?"
The Nord looked somewhat surprised at the question, but responded, "Well… that has a long answer and a short answer. Which one do you want?"
"Short one, for now."
"It starts with Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions, who drove the elves from Skyrim after their return from Atmora. After they succeeded, Jeek of the River, Captain of the ship Jorrvaskr, left Saarthal to explore. They found the Skyforge, an area that was feared and avoided by the elves, and settled. Ever since then, the Companions have been based from the mead hall here. Whiterun itself grew up around Jorrvaskr. The Companions themselves are a band of noble warriors, seeking honour in life and glory in battle. We solve problems that others can't, if the coin is good enough."
Ako thought for a bit, then asked, "So… you're a bunch of mercenaries with a long history, is that it?"
Vilkas glared at the Khajiit for a bit, then shrugged. "Something like that. I wouldn't expect a mage to understand anything about honour."
The Arch-Mage snorted. "What is honour then? Giving everything I have to save a complete stranger's life is not honourable?"
Vilkas looked uncomfortable at the reminder but changed the subject as they came up to the upturned ship, revealing it to be the actual Jorrvaskr. How they got it here in one piece was a mystery to Ako. Windhelm, where Ysgramor supposedly landed, was days away by horse or carriage. To move a ship this far intact… it was an impressive feat. And he did respect the history of the group, only the Psijics; amongst all the guilds of Tamriel, could claim a similar age.
Vilkas led Ako around the building. To the left of the building stood a large cliff face, with a large carved eagle rising above it. Ako could feel the thrum of powerful magic resonating from it, a clean, light magic. There was also a faint undercurrent of darker magic, but it was dormant, sleeping. A few practice dummies stood behind Jorrvaskr, archery targets spread around them. He ignored it for the moment, resolving to take a closer look once his meeting with the Companions was over.
A porch had a few tables set out, topped with food and drink in relatively copious amounts. The redheaded archer – Aela, Ako recalled – sat at one of the tables enjoying a late lunch, wearing the same strange armour she wore the previous day. Vilkas directed Ako to take a seat while he went into the ship through a set of double doors. Aela nodded a greeting while Ako lost himself in the carvings that decorated the porch. They were faded and worn though, and Ako couldn't make out details, to his disappointment. Instead, he started sketching the large eagle.
The wings rose straight from the ground, roughly hewn into shape as it reached the shoulders. The body itself was better craftsmanship, the feathers detailed and well proportioned, with the lower body hidden behind a lower ledge. The head and neck got the most attention, with the beak and eyes exquisite, the head feathers as intricate as real feathers. Smoke seemed to dissipate from the beak, distorting the air in front of it.
The double doors behind Ako opened and several figures in heavy armour came clanking through. He finished with his sketch and stood, absently noting he needed to find a new journal at the pace he was making sketches. Turning around he faced 3 figures clad in matching armour, one of them Vilkas, and Aela joined them. The armour itself caught Ako's attention, embossed with flowing silver curves on dark steel, looking vaguely similar to the faded carvings on Jorrvaskr. Their belts were fastened by a snarling wolf, reflected by the same design at the throat, presumably where cloaks could be fastened.
The two unknown figures bore a posture of authority. One was an old Nord, appearing to be in his early seventies, with grey, nearly white hair and beard, but still strong and healthy. 'He must have been one heck of a warrior in his prime,' Ako mused to himself. The other was a bald man, seemingly around his fiftieth year, with a scar running across his face, one eye blinded by it. The four warriors stared at Ako in what appeared to be an attempt to intimidate him, but he just looked on with a bemused expression. He was intrigued by the almost feral look in the bald man's working eye.
The air was heavy with an earthy scent, a foulness tainting it. After a few moments, Ako said, "Interesting armour. Well made, too. Rather fitting, isn't it?"
The old man let out a chuckle, deep and sonorous, before looking Ako in the eyes and saying, "Welcome to our halls, Arch-Mage. I am Kodlak White-Mane, Harbinger of the Companions. These are the members of the Circle, our greatest and noblest warriors. Vilkas and Aela you've met, the other is Skjor, a warrior of renown. Please, have a seat, so that we may have our discussion."
Ako sat down in the same chair he'd been sitting in while sketching, and the Circle sat down across him. Kodlak offered Ako some mead, which he politely declined. Ako discreetly cast a spell, which confirmed his suspicions that arose from the scent: All members of the Circle were werewolves.
Kodlak started speaking. "Now, then. Aela says you came running in, turning the giant they were busy with into ash. Farkas somehow got hurt, and you then cut off his armour. You healed him somewhat, and then carried him here. I would like to hear your side of the story, seeing as you are a short and skinny cat. So, it does sound somewhat… unbelievable. And, how did you know he was a werewolf?"
Ako laughed a bit before he answered, "Indeed, Harbinger. I am not built for that, but magic helps. I heard the giant's roar while walking past, and I would have stayed out of it until Farkas got in the way of the club. I… hmm, disposed of the giant and tried to heal Farkas. I knew because… it has to do with the spell I used. There are two broad classes of healing spells: The first, most common one, manipulates the magic to hasten the body's natural healing. This is the same type of healing as potions, which is why it leaves scars.
"The second type uses the magic to heal the body using the person doing the healing's power. This is much more complex and difficult to do than normal healing, but it is also a lot more effective, since it can heal that which the body can't, such as head injuries, and it leaves no scars. I use the first method when I can, but the fact that Farkas survived the hit at all was something of a miracle. So I resorted to the second type, but it involves a lot more of the injured person's natural essence, as such. The wolf spirit, I assume, rejected and interfered with my magic when I tried to heal Farkas. I then cast a spell designed to reveal something like that at Aela and the other girl, and Aela had the same mark. So I asked her.
"Once I knew, I could adjust the spell to mostly avoid the wolf spirit's attention, but it was a lot more taxing for me to use. He was severely injured, and I couldn't heal everything. So I used the last bits of energy I had left to magically strengthen myself, and carried him to the temple where there were people enough to heal him."
Kodlak looked to be deep in thought at Ako's words, before asking, "How bad was it?"
Ako had a serious expression when he answered, "Very bad. A broken spine and torn spinal cord, crushed ribs, shattered hips and punctured lungs were what I healed at the farm. Once I got him here, the priestess still had to deal with the broken legs, pulverised shoulder blades and snapped arms. All in all, he was damn lucky I walked past. He probably had less than a minute if I hadn't stepped in. I don't know if he'll be crippled or not, but I do not think so. He's made a good recovery, all things considered."
Skjor, the bald one-eyed warrior, looked stunned as he asked, "Torn spinal cord? And he won't be crippled? How….?"
Ako allowed a smug little smirk to creep onto his face. "I told you I could heal what the body usually can't."
Kodlak chuckled in amazement. "Well, if there were any doubts as to whether or not you are Arch-Mage, I think that has been allayed. But now, onto the real matter of concern. Apparently, you told Vilkas you wouldn't spill the secret. Is that true?"
"You have been here a while as a group, no? And I doubt that you turned only yesterday. I haven't heard any reports of rogue wolves, and I do keep tabs on the happenings in Skyrim as far as I can. Therefore, I can only conclude you have good control and timing when and if you turn. So no, I do not see a reason to turn you in. Why, everything I know about illusion magic was taught to me by a vampire. She moved on a fair number of years ago, but she was harmless to the College. Bandits and rogue mages, not so much," Ako finished with a small laugh.
Vilkas looked startled at this news. "The College knowingly harboured a bloodsucker?"
Ako laughed loudly at this, while Kodlak reprimanded Vilkas, "Come now, boy, don't be the pot that called the kettle black."
Once Ako regained his composure, Aela asked him, "Why did you save Farkas?"
Ako shrugged. "I was there, and I could. Besides, in hindsight, if I can cheat Hircine of a soul, even if only temporarily, I'll feel good about it." Ako saw that all of the warriors, except Kodlak, looked at him with shock in their eyes.
Vilkas stuttered, "H – hircine? Soul? What do the Daedra have to do with this?"
Ako gave a deadpan look as he replied with a condescending tone. "Surely you must know how lycanthropy came to be? It is Hircine's doing. He is the Father of Manbeasts, Lord of the Hunt. When a werebeast dies, their soul goes to the Hunting Grounds, His plane of Oblivion. The beings there are hunting and hunted until the end of time. Not something I would look forward to, personally."
Ako thought for a moment about the Daedra. They were a pantheon of godlike beings, that each resided in their own plane of Oblivion. Each of the sixteen had its own domain, Sheogorath of Madness, Hircine of the Hunt, Vaermina of Nightmares and so on. Most were considered evil in mortal eyes, in opposition to the gods, the pantheon of the Divines, the Aedra. There were exceptions to the evil, with Azura of the Dusk and Dawn considered benevolent, along with Meridia, the Lady of Infinite Energies and Scourge of the Undead. As was often the case with beings far more powerful than mortal comprehension, morality lost its meaning where the Daedra or the Aedra were considered.
The Aedra were similar with regards to the domains, with Akatosh of Time considered to be the chief of the Divines, while Mara of Love and Compassion was most often associated with marriage. Whether there was Eight or Nine Divines was a sore topic for Tamriel, with Talos, the supposed Ninth, being a former Emperor who ascended. Ako himself didn't worship any of the deities fervently, though he held respect for the Divines and Daedra both, with occasional prayers towards Akatosh.
Ako was pulled from his thoughts by a strangled gasp coming from the dark-haired Nord, who looked extremely alarmed at the news, while the bald one and redhead looked intrigued. Ako couldn't quite place the expression on their faces. Eagerness perhaps? Kodlak just took all this information in sagely, a beacon of calm around the tense table.
Ako continued, "I do not know how to cure lycanthropy in its advanced stage, in case you were wondering. And the College does not have the knowledge either. I am sorry about that."
Vilkas looked at Ako with suspicion and desperation, "Is there a cure then?"
Kodlak looked sharply at Ako as he answered, "Probably, yes. I have a fair idea of how said cure would work, too, but I'll need to experiment on living subjects before I can safely say I can cure them without side effects."
Skjor asked with a hint of dread in his voice, "What side-effects?"
"Death for one. I could break their minds irreversibly, render them a soulless husk with the Daedra alone knowing where the soul ended up. Most likely for a first try with Daedric magic is that the soul ends up somewhere worse than the Hunting Grounds. And trust me, there are enough of those," Ako finished with a grimace.
An uncomfortable silence settled across the table. After a while, Kodlak cleared his throat and said, "Well, as the Harbinger of the Companions, I thank you for saving Farkas. If there is anything we can do to repay you, please do not hesitate to ask."
Ako shrugged and waved them off. "It was the right thing to do."
After another few moments of silence, Skjor stood and went inside. Aela and Vilkas moved to the courtyard and started practising, she her archery and Vilkas working on a training dummy with a large greatsword. Only Kodlak remained at the table. He looked to Ako and said, "All of us are grateful, you know? It's just that most of them are uncomfortable with magic in general. Vilkas specifically. I think he might still be in denial over how close Farkas came to death yesterday. And the others have reasons in their past to be uncomfortable with you as well, however unfair it might be."
An indifferent shrug was the only reaction that Ako gave. Kodlak told him, "It would be my pleasure to invite you for dinner at my table tonight. I feel as though we have much to learn from each other."
Ako gave a short bow as he replied, "It would be my honour to accept your invitation, Harbinger."
"Excellent. See you at sunset then?"
"That sounds good to me. Until then, Harbinger."
Kodlak left Ako alone outside, and Ako walked back the way he came. He noticed a set of stairs leading up to the carved eagle that stood to the north of Jorrvaskr, which he somehow missed when he came around the first time. He started climbing the stairs, and with every step, he felt the pure, powerful magic resonating stronger within him. The resonance felt ancient, older than almost anything Ako had felt before, yet it still felt real and tangible, in the present.
When Ako reached the top of the stairs, he noted that the carved eagle stood vigil above a large forge that he surmised to be the Skyforge. An old Nord man, burly and strong, was sharpening a blade on a grindstone nearby. A water trough and an armourer's bench stood close by, with various pieces of armour and weaponry lying around. As Ako neared the forge itself, he saw that it was not a normal wood-fired forge. Instead, it looked (and gave off heat) like molten rock. He wondered what kept the rock molten, lacking an obvious heat source. The Arch-Mage theorized that the magic he could feel so strongly must be responsible.
The sound of someone clearing his throat alerted Ako to the fact that the grind of the blade against stone had stopped. Turning around, he saw the older man looking at him with a scowl on his face. He wore little in the way of clothing, muscles showing beneath the meagre straps of animal hide covering his upper body. An apron of the same material protected the lower body. It seemed like the perfect attire for someone working all day near the heat of the Skyforge, even in the cold of Skyrim.
"You're not a Companion. Who are you to bother me here?" the Nord asked gruffly.
"My apologies, Master Smith, I did not mean to be rude. I was merely curious about the magic I could feel coming from here, so I investigated," Ako replied in a soothing tone. The blacksmith appeared to be mollified by this as Ako went on, "I assume this is the famous Skyforge?"
"Aye. My clan-fathers have worked it since the Gray-Manes first came to Whiterun. Finest forge in all of Skyrim, and it produces the best steel, too. Best in all of Tamriel," the man said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.
Ako nodded appreciatively at the information, and asked, "Are you a Companion then, Master Gray-Mane?"
The Nord snorted. "Hmpf. You have nice manners for a cat. No, I am not a Companion, but I am honoured to serve them, as none of them can work a forge. I should get back to it, but before you go, you said something about magic. What did you mean?"
Ako looked surprised that a Nord, a Companion least of all, would show interest in magic. "Ah, well… I was coming from a meeting with the Circle, and I felt the magic emanating from here. I saw the stairs and took a look." Walking towards the forge, he ran his hands over the edge. "There is powerful magic here, very old as well. It would definitely help a smith, but I don't know how exactly." The Khajiit neglected to mention the dark aura that was also nearby, which had the same feeling of power and age.
"Hrm. Interesting, but I'd best get to my work," the blacksmith said, and he turned away towards the bench.
"Good day, Master Gray-Mane," Ako said in farewell. 'What a strange man… but he seems to be a good man too,' he thought to himself as he left. Going back to the inn, Ako booked another night for his room and started packing to get an early start towards the barrow the next morning.
As Ako came up to the doors of Jorrvaskr, just as the sun was setting, he could hear loud and boisterous songs coming from inside. Pushing open the door, he saw a roaring fire in a central fire pit, with tables lining one side of the pit. Elegant tapestries, embroidered with historical figures and deeds, hung from the carved pillars that seemed to support the hull. It was a strange feeling to stand in an overturned ship.
To his left several kegs of mead stood, ready to be tapped. Hunting trophies were mounted on the walls, together with various stacked weapon racks. The tables themselves were laden with roasted meat and vegetables, with very limited amounts of cutlery. The smell of alcohol and grilled venison permeated the air, with an undertone of sweat. Completing the picture was a group of 15 or so warriors, all in armour. It was very much how Ako would have imagined a band of mercenaries to act, except for the lack of brawling.
The sound of the door opening brought silence to the warriors, and most of them stared at Ako with varying degrees of suspicion. Luckily Aela quickly recognised him and called, "Arch-Mage! The Harbinger has been expecting you. Follow me, I'll take you to him." The merry band began talking softly when Ako's identity had been revealed as he followed Aela to a corner, where a flight of stairs led down.
As he reached the bottom, he noticed a dormitory room directly ahead of him and a long hallway to his right. Aela had turned right, and led Ako into a room at the end. Kodlak White-Mane was sitting at a table in the corner, with a stew of roasted venison and greens, along with fresh bread, set out on the table. The Harbinger thanked Aela and invited Ako to sit.
As they started eating, Kodlak said, "Thank you for coming Arch-Mage. I must admit, this is the first time that I have met an actively serving Arch-Mage. I have been Harbinger for nearly 2 decades, and I have not made any attempt at establishing relationships with the College."
Ako chuckled and replied, "I confess, I am in the same boat. Truth be told, I didn't even consider whether or not your company still had a presence in Skyrim until Vilkas introduced himself yesterday. And please, call me Ako."
Kodlak returned the laugh, before he asked, "I have met many Khajiit in my life, but never before one that used magic. I would like to hear the tale of your life, if you don't mind?"
"I'd be happy to tell it. I grew up as the adopted child of two Breton mages, Anton and Mena Franc. They were former court mages in High Rock, but for some reason involving the local politics and threats of jail, they moved to Cyrodiil, and eventually Leyawiin. Anton found me as a cub wrapped in blankets, on their doorstep one stormy night.
"He made concerted efforts to find my real parents, but after a few months they gave up. They were already past middle age then, but they couldn't find an orphanage." Ako gave a soft, affectionate laugh. "Apparently I had clung to Mena's legs for the next year or so, so by the time they heard of one near Cheydinhal, neither Anton nor she wanted to let me go."
Kodlak laughed at this, before he enquired, "Leyawiin is so close to Elsweyr, there must be a lot of Khajiit there. I've always found the Khajiit to be very loyal to their own. Wasn't there a family willing to take you in?"
Ako gave a bitter chuckle at the question. "I'm a pariah amongst the Khajiit. Anton theorized that was why I was abandoned as a cub. Look in my eyes and tell me you are not unnerved. Tell me you have seen eyes like mine before." His midnight blue irises around slanted slits, gold flecks prominent, sparkled in the candlelight. Kodlak had to admit they were exceedingly strange eyes, a strange uncomfortable feeling curling in his chest as he struggled to look the Arch-Mage directly in the eyes.
Curling his long tail around and up in front of him, Ako continued, "It was not only my eyes. Most Khajiit have to wait a few years before they grow their patterns. I was found with this flaming pattern already. And Khajiit are a superstitious folk. Parents cursed me as an evil omen and their cubs shunned me as a monster. The other races looked down on me because I'm a cat and I used magic. As a result, I had only one friend and a few acquaintances. Books were my real comfort, my parents having amassed a rather large library. And there was the local Mages' Conclave, and through my parents, I had nearly free rein in that library as well."
Taking a break from talking to eat, Kodlak asked him, "You mentioned one friend. Who was that?"
With a fond smile on his face, Ako finished chewing to answer, "Ma'Fea. He was a troublemaker wherever he went, but a better friend there was not. His parents were killed when the war passed through Leyawiin, so he lived on the streets with his older brothers and sisters. They were the acquaintances I mentioned. I wonder what did happen to him."
Seeing the confused look on Kodlak's face, Ako went on, "I lost contact with him when I left Leyawiin. It wasn't exactly my plan, but I haven't seen him since."
"Why did you leave Leyawiin?" Kodlak asked.
"Oh, to break house arrest. At the tender age of 16, the Thalmor placed me under de facto house arrest. I was immensely talented at magic. A year earlier the resident Thalmor operatives offered to take me to Alinor to further my training. My parents stalled for a while, but I eventually refused, because of what I had heard from Ma'Fea's siblings, what the Thalmor did in the war. And because I was well-read, even at that young age, I knew I would never agree with the Thalmor.
"Soon enough, the Leyawiin guards began 'encouraging' me to stay only at my parents' house, or at the Mages' building. It didn't stop me from sneaking out, but it did encourage me to become adept at using invisibility and muffle spells. The guards knew I was slipping around them with ease, but unfortunately, they began targeting Ma'Fea and his siblings, since they were the only ones I interacted with. With the help of my parents, I got passage on a ship to Morrowind, and from there on to Winterhold, where my history with the Thalmor was unknown. When they caught up a couple of years later, I was already a valued student under the College's protection."
Kodlak looked intrigued and impressed at the tale that Ako recited. He certainly had not expected anything like it. However, the Companion was still intrigued as to how Ako had become the head of the College, and asked the Khajiit. A sad, melancholy look came over Ako as he continued his story.
"Seven or so years after I joined, as a senior student and one of the strongest spellcasters at the College, I was part of an archaeological dig at Saarthal. You should know of it. Through a series of bizarre coincidences, we uncovered an ancient artefact of immense power. Indeed, we speculated that it was the cause of the infamous 'Night of Tears'. The artefact was retrieved and brought to the College itself.
"You have heard of the Psijic Order, I presume?" Ako asked while taking a sip of water. At Kodlak's nod, he went on, "Well, they became involved with the whole thing, and sent me on a merry trip through Eastmarch to retrieve a staff as ancient as the artefact and connected with it. You know, the artefact felt a lot like the Skyforge does."
"What do you mean by that?" Kodlak asked with a frown on his face.
Ako shrugged, and answered, "The magic coming from it. The Skyforge has strong and old magic running through it. The artefact, which we dubbed the Eye of Magnus, had the same… timeless quality to it. It felt as if had always been, and would always continue to exist. Anyhow, that was off-topic, sorry. On with the story. When I returned to the College to restock, having found the Staff of Magnus' location, the Thalmor 'adviser' to the College had somehow manipulated the Eye and shut out everyone from it. It looked like he was draining and absorbing the magical energy coming from it.
"You might have heard rumours that Winterhold exploded, about ten years back? That was Ancano, the Thalmor's, doing. The leadership of the College, stunted as it was by the explosion, immediately concluded that the Staff of Magnus should be retrieved, as soon as possible. I was sent as I was the strongest spellcaster still mobile, and I'm sure you've heard of the horrors in Labyrinthian? Because that was where the Staff was. Having blazed my way through the swarms of draugr awaiting in the ruin, I fought a dragon priest that held the Staff.
"That was the hardest fight of my life. I can honestly say I have no idea how I survived. Having claimed the Staff, I went back to the College. Since the Staff was connected to the Eye, I could drain the power that Ancano had, and with the help of the rest of the College, he was killed. The Psijics showed up, proclaimed me to be the new Arch-Mage, and spirited away the Eye. Not much has happened since, besides mastering magic that few ever have."
Kodlak looked stunned at the story, and said, "Well, boy, now that is an impressive story. So you left home at 16, became Arch-Mage at 23, and ten years later you still look like you are barely into your twenties? How?"
"Powerful mages live a long time, so I guess it has something to do with that. No one knows exactly why, but I speculate it is to do with the fact that magic comes from Aetherius. Powerful mages would be closer to the immortal plane, and as such, some traits might pass over. Some of the Telvanni Wizard-Lords are millennia old, and I assume the same goes for the Altmer mages," Ako replied with a shrug.
They continued with idle chatting for a while, until Kodlak asked Ako what had brought him to walk past the farm the previous day.
Ako looked thoughtful for a moment, before he asked Kodlak, "Have you heard about Helgen?"
"What about it?" Kodlak asked, a curious look on his face.
"It was sacked by a dragon three days ago."
"A dragon? By the Nine… does that mean the End Times are here?" Kodlak gasped, his face pale in the dwindling candlelight.
"I know next to nothing about the traditions and legends surrounding dragons, but they are real and alive now. Thought the Companions might need to know. Please don't spread it, as it may cause a panic in the populace," Ako replied. Continuing, he said with a sad smile, "Anyhow, I was in Cyrodiil for the past 3 months. I visited my parents for the last time."
"Last time? I'm sorry to hear that," Kodlak replied with sympathy.
Ako chuckled, "Oh don't be, they had long and full lives. They were in their middle sixties when they found me. It's has been 32 years since. They sent me a letter, saying they wanted to see me a last time. I haven't been home since I left half a lifetime ago. I got there, and we caught up on everything that had happened since I left. They were old and tired of clinging on to life through the healers' and their own magic though, so they just stopped the healing, and passed in peace," Ako said with a melancholic look.
He went on, "After I buried them, I wandered through Cyrodiil for a month and a half, making my way north, living off the land as much as I could. I passed through Helgen just as it was attacked, and came here with fellow refugees."
Kodlak frowned at that statement, "Surely you could take on a dragon, Arch-Mage?"
A rueful laugh was Ako's response. "I hit it with spells that would have killed almost everything in Tamriel. If it noticed it, it did not show it. It certainly wasn't hindered by the spells."
Kodlak just stared at Ako with wide eyes. The Khajiit noticed and said in a comforting tone, "But I would also note I didn't have access to my full magical ability, and it appeared a lot bigger than the dragon that hangs above Jarl Balgruuf's throne. I would guess it was unusually powerful. Others might be less powerful, or it might be vulnerable to more powerful spells."
Kodlak looked at Ako, saying with a small grin spreading up his face, "Ah well. Either way, I'll make sure to go to Sovngarde in a way fitting for a warrior."
"Only if you can find the cure."
"Ah, yes… that is true. Arch-Mage… if you don't mind me asking, how would the cure work? And are you sure you can't do it?" Kodlak asked with a sad look.
Ako thought for a bit, struggling to find words. "Well, from what I know, the wolf's blood is not really to do with blood, but rather a spirit which then taints the blood. To be cursed means to entwine your soul with that of the spirit, bond them but not quite permanently. As odd as it may sound, a necromancer would be your best bet in removing the wolf spirit. I have a working knowledge of it, but I consider necromancy that works with black souls to be abhorrent. Therefore, I have an idea of the theory, but no practical experience."
Ako sighed before he went on, "I could probably do it without too much trouble, but I do not have enough confidence in my knowledge to try something like this for the first time on people. For example, I can heal scars, no matter their age or severity. The procedure is dangerous and can easily spiral out of control, but I have practised enough on dead animals and willing prisoners to have complete confidence. This has the same complications. I might be able to do it, but you could die in a horrendously painful way."
The Nord looked grim as they sat in silence. Ako broke it by saying, "I'm sorry that I can't be of more help. But, I can promise that I'll look in our archives for anything on the subject, and help as much as I can. Unfortunately, my main focus must be the return of the dragons. But the Arch-Mage can delegate some of his work." Ako had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes with that last statement.
Kodlak's spirits seemed to lift at that. As the evening progressed, the two leaders talked amiably on the current events and found a refreshing common ground in remaining neutral with regards to the civil war. When Ako made to leave, he suddenly remembered the Skyforge and turned to ask the Harbinger, "Excuse me, Harbinger! I just remembered. You said this afternoon that I have but to ask if I need something."
Kodlak nodded for Ako to go on. "Well, I would like to use the Skyforge in the not too distant future to craft a staff for myself. My previous staff is sharing the ashes of Helgen," Ako said with a wry smile. The Harbinger gave a short bark of laughter before he said yes.
After the farewells, Ako walked back to the inn. Stopping at the top of the stairs leading down to the lower district, the Plains district he'd learned, he admired the beauty of the skies. The aurorae were bright, the northern lights dancing in colours he had only rarely seen before. Pulsing briskly in wavy forms, the blue and yellow glows were smattered with purple blotches, a far cry from the usual green or red that the Northern Lights produced.
Somehow, seeing these strange aurorae gave Ako a feeling that the world was changing, in many more ways than one, and it would not necessarily be for the best.
Given that he would leave in the morning, Ako decided to search out an alchemy shop to stock up on potions. He was confident of handling the barrow without too many difficulties, but the aftereffects of saving Farkas might come back to haunt him if he encountered undue trouble. On the other side of the market from the inn, a sign declared the shop to be 'Arcadia's Cauldron'.
Arcadia turned out to be a kind older Imperial woman, more than happy to sell the potions to Ako. She tried to convince him to buy potions to cure disease, insinuating his white fur to be indicative of illness. A loud laugh in reply, accompanied by a glowing golden light that surrounded both Ako and Arcadia, quickly put paid to that ploy. Arcadia grudgingly conceded that, with his magic, Ako did not really need curative potions.
Ako then visited the Temple of Kynareth to check up on his patient. The smell of healing herbs filled the air, mixed with the sweetness of flowers arranged on the patients' dressers. Farkas was lying on one of the beds, awake, softly talking with his twin. Ako quietly walked closer and took a seat near the bed, asking, "So? How are you feeling today?"
Farkas looked at him, confusion etched on his face. "Who are you?"
Ako gave a soft chuckle. "Of course, you were unconscious yesterday. Ako'Siirto, Arch-Mage of Winterhold."
The Nord turned to Vilkas, chiding him, "You didn't say the Arch-Mage was a cat!"
"Sorry, it slipped my mind because, Ice-brain, you were dying!" Vilkas retorted.
Laughing again, Ako said, "Brotherly love is one of a kind. But I'm serious, how are you feeling?"
Stretching out his limbs, Farkas replied, "Great! Well, more tired than I've ever been, but still healthy, I think. I don't know how to say it."
Smiling happily, Ako said, "That's good to hear, it means everything is growing back as it should. The tiredness is merely because your body had an immense amount of healing magic forced through it."
After an awkward silence settled, Farkas cleared his throat and stammered, "Arch-Mage? I…. thank you for saving my life. Aela said without you, it would have been the end. I… thank you."
"You are most welcome, Farkas. I am glad it turned out for the best," Ako replied gently. His voice grew serious as he went on, "But listen. You should have died yesterday. I do not believe in coincidence anymore. The fact that I walked by just as you got hit, or that you didn't hit your head or that your armour bent just the right way that I could keep you alive long enough to get it off…"
Taking a deep breath, Ako said, "Someone was looking out for you. I don't know who or what, for whatever reasons, but you are here, where you should be dead. My advice is that you take this second chance, and make it worth it."
Letting Farkas get more sleep and rest, Ako and Vilkas left the temple. The Khajiit stopped under the old tree and turned to Vilkas.
"I believe you wanted to talk to me?"
Vilkas nodded and replied, "Not just me. The rest of the Circle as well. Follow me, I'll take you to a place where you can wait while I get the rest."
As they walked towards the upturned boat, Ako remembered that Vilkas introduced himself as 'of the Companions.' He wanted to ask about it then, but was interrupted by the arriving ingredients. He asked Vilkas, "What can you tell me about the Companions?"
The Nord looked somewhat surprised at the question, but responded, "Well… that has a long answer and a short answer. Which one do you want?"
"Short one, for now."
"It starts with Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions, who drove the elves from Skyrim after their return from Atmora. After they succeeded, Jeek of the River, Captain of the ship Jorrvaskr, left Saarthal to explore. They found the Skyforge, an area that was feared and avoided by the elves, and settled. Ever since then, the Companions have been based from the mead hall here. Whiterun itself grew up around Jorrvaskr. The Companions themselves are a band of noble warriors, seeking honour in life and glory in battle. We solve problems that others can't, if the coin is good enough."
Ako thought for a bit, then asked, "So… you're a bunch of mercenaries with a long history, is that it?"
Vilkas glared at the Khajiit for a bit, then shrugged. "Something like that. I wouldn't expect a mage to understand anything about honour."
The Arch-Mage snorted. "What is honour then? Giving everything I have to save a complete stranger's life is not honourable?"
Vilkas looked uncomfortable at the reminder but changed the subject as they came up to the upturned ship, revealing it to be the actual Jorrvaskr. How they got it here in one piece was a mystery to Ako. Windhelm, where Ysgramor supposedly landed, was days away by horse or carriage. To move a ship this far intact… it was an impressive feat. And he did respect the history of the group, only the Psijics; amongst all the guilds of Tamriel, could claim a similar age.
Vilkas led Ako around the building. To the left of the building stood a large cliff face, with a large carved eagle rising above it. Ako could feel the thrum of powerful magic resonating from it, a clean, light magic. There was also a faint undercurrent of darker magic, but it was dormant, sleeping. A few practice dummies stood behind Jorrvaskr, archery targets spread around them. He ignored it for the moment, resolving to take a closer look once his meeting with the Companions was over.
A porch had a few tables set out, topped with food and drink in relatively copious amounts. The redheaded archer – Aela, Ako recalled – sat at one of the tables enjoying a late lunch, wearing the same strange armour she wore the previous day. Vilkas directed Ako to take a seat while he went into the ship through a set of double doors. Aela nodded a greeting while Ako lost himself in the carvings that decorated the porch. They were faded and worn though, and Ako couldn't make out details, to his disappointment. Instead, he started sketching the large eagle.
The wings rose straight from the ground, roughly hewn into shape as it reached the shoulders. The body itself was better craftsmanship, the feathers detailed and well proportioned, with the lower body hidden behind a lower ledge. The head and neck got the most attention, with the beak and eyes exquisite, the head feathers as intricate as real feathers. Smoke seemed to dissipate from the beak, distorting the air in front of it.
The double doors behind Ako opened and several figures in heavy armour came clanking through. He finished with his sketch and stood, absently noting he needed to find a new journal at the pace he was making sketches. Turning around he faced 3 figures clad in matching armour, one of them Vilkas, and Aela joined them. The armour itself caught Ako's attention, embossed with flowing silver curves on dark steel, looking vaguely similar to the faded carvings on Jorrvaskr. Their belts were fastened by a snarling wolf, reflected by the same design at the throat, presumably where cloaks could be fastened.
The two unknown figures bore a posture of authority. One was an old Nord, appearing to be in his early seventies, with grey, nearly white hair and beard, but still strong and healthy. 'He must have been one heck of a warrior in his prime,' Ako mused to himself. The other was a bald man, seemingly around his fiftieth year, with a scar running across his face, one eye blinded by it. The four warriors stared at Ako in what appeared to be an attempt to intimidate him, but he just looked on with a bemused expression. He was intrigued by the almost feral look in the bald man's working eye.
The air was heavy with an earthy scent, a foulness tainting it. After a few moments, Ako said, "Interesting armour. Well made, too. Rather fitting, isn't it?"
The old man let out a chuckle, deep and sonorous, before looking Ako in the eyes and saying, "Welcome to our halls, Arch-Mage. I am Kodlak White-Mane, Harbinger of the Companions. These are the members of the Circle, our greatest and noblest warriors. Vilkas and Aela you've met, the other is Skjor, a warrior of renown. Please, have a seat, so that we may have our discussion."
Ako sat down in the same chair he'd been sitting in while sketching, and the Circle sat down across him. Kodlak offered Ako some mead, which he politely declined. Ako discreetly cast a spell, which confirmed his suspicions that arose from the scent: All members of the Circle were werewolves.
Kodlak started speaking. "Now, then. Aela says you came running in, turning the giant they were busy with into ash. Farkas somehow got hurt, and you then cut off his armour. You healed him somewhat, and then carried him here. I would like to hear your side of the story, seeing as you are a short and skinny cat. So, it does sound somewhat… unbelievable. And, how did you know he was a werewolf?"
Ako laughed a bit before he answered, "Indeed, Harbinger. I am not built for that, but magic helps. I heard the giant's roar while walking past, and I would have stayed out of it until Farkas got in the way of the club. I… hmm, disposed of the giant and tried to heal Farkas. I knew because… it has to do with the spell I used. There are two broad classes of healing spells: The first, most common one, manipulates the magic to hasten the body's natural healing. This is the same type of healing as potions, which is why it leaves scars.
"The second type uses the magic to heal the body using the person doing the healing's power. This is much more complex and difficult to do than normal healing, but it is also a lot more effective, since it can heal that which the body can't, such as head injuries, and it leaves no scars. I use the first method when I can, but the fact that Farkas survived the hit at all was something of a miracle. So I resorted to the second type, but it involves a lot more of the injured person's natural essence, as such. The wolf spirit, I assume, rejected and interfered with my magic when I tried to heal Farkas. I then cast a spell designed to reveal something like that at Aela and the other girl, and Aela had the same mark. So I asked her.
"Once I knew, I could adjust the spell to mostly avoid the wolf spirit's attention, but it was a lot more taxing for me to use. He was severely injured, and I couldn't heal everything. So I used the last bits of energy I had left to magically strengthen myself, and carried him to the temple where there were people enough to heal him."
Kodlak looked to be deep in thought at Ako's words, before asking, "How bad was it?"
Ako had a serious expression when he answered, "Very bad. A broken spine and torn spinal cord, crushed ribs, shattered hips and punctured lungs were what I healed at the farm. Once I got him here, the priestess still had to deal with the broken legs, pulverised shoulder blades and snapped arms. All in all, he was damn lucky I walked past. He probably had less than a minute if I hadn't stepped in. I don't know if he'll be crippled or not, but I do not think so. He's made a good recovery, all things considered."
Skjor, the bald one-eyed warrior, looked stunned as he asked, "Torn spinal cord? And he won't be crippled? How….?"
Ako allowed a smug little smirk to creep onto his face. "I told you I could heal what the body usually can't."
Kodlak chuckled in amazement. "Well, if there were any doubts as to whether or not you are Arch-Mage, I think that has been allayed. But now, onto the real matter of concern. Apparently, you told Vilkas you wouldn't spill the secret. Is that true?"
"You have been here a while as a group, no? And I doubt that you turned only yesterday. I haven't heard any reports of rogue wolves, and I do keep tabs on the happenings in Skyrim as far as I can. Therefore, I can only conclude you have good control and timing when and if you turn. So no, I do not see a reason to turn you in. Why, everything I know about illusion magic was taught to me by a vampire. She moved on a fair number of years ago, but she was harmless to the College. Bandits and rogue mages, not so much," Ako finished with a small laugh.
Vilkas looked startled at this news. "The College knowingly harboured a bloodsucker?"
Ako laughed loudly at this, while Kodlak reprimanded Vilkas, "Come now, boy, don't be the pot that called the kettle black."
Once Ako regained his composure, Aela asked him, "Why did you save Farkas?"
Ako shrugged. "I was there, and I could. Besides, in hindsight, if I can cheat Hircine of a soul, even if only temporarily, I'll feel good about it." Ako saw that all of the warriors, except Kodlak, looked at him with shock in their eyes.
Vilkas stuttered, "H – hircine? Soul? What do the Daedra have to do with this?"
Ako gave a deadpan look as he replied with a condescending tone. "Surely you must know how lycanthropy came to be? It is Hircine's doing. He is the Father of Manbeasts, Lord of the Hunt. When a werebeast dies, their soul goes to the Hunting Grounds, His plane of Oblivion. The beings there are hunting and hunted until the end of time. Not something I would look forward to, personally."
Ako thought for a moment about the Daedra. They were a pantheon of godlike beings, that each resided in their own plane of Oblivion. Each of the sixteen had its own domain, Sheogorath of Madness, Hircine of the Hunt, Vaermina of Nightmares and so on. Most were considered evil in mortal eyes, in opposition to the gods, the pantheon of the Divines, the Aedra. There were exceptions to the evil, with Azura of the Dusk and Dawn considered benevolent, along with Meridia, the Lady of Infinite Energies and Scourge of the Undead. As was often the case with beings far more powerful than mortal comprehension, morality lost its meaning where the Daedra or the Aedra were considered.
The Aedra were similar with regards to the domains, with Akatosh of Time considered to be the chief of the Divines, while Mara of Love and Compassion was most often associated with marriage. Whether there was Eight or Nine Divines was a sore topic for Tamriel, with Talos, the supposed Ninth, being a former Emperor who ascended. Ako himself didn't worship any of the deities fervently, though he held respect for the Divines and Daedra both, with occasional prayers towards Akatosh.
Ako was pulled from his thoughts by a strangled gasp coming from the dark-haired Nord, who looked extremely alarmed at the news, while the bald one and redhead looked intrigued. Ako couldn't quite place the expression on their faces. Eagerness perhaps? Kodlak just took all this information in sagely, a beacon of calm around the tense table.
Ako continued, "I do not know how to cure lycanthropy in its advanced stage, in case you were wondering. And the College does not have the knowledge either. I am sorry about that."
Vilkas looked at Ako with suspicion and desperation, "Is there a cure then?"
Kodlak looked sharply at Ako as he answered, "Probably, yes. I have a fair idea of how said cure would work, too, but I'll need to experiment on living subjects before I can safely say I can cure them without side effects."
Skjor asked with a hint of dread in his voice, "What side-effects?"
"Death for one. I could break their minds irreversibly, render them a soulless husk with the Daedra alone knowing where the soul ended up. Most likely for a first try with Daedric magic is that the soul ends up somewhere worse than the Hunting Grounds. And trust me, there are enough of those," Ako finished with a grimace.
An uncomfortable silence settled across the table. After a while, Kodlak cleared his throat and said, "Well, as the Harbinger of the Companions, I thank you for saving Farkas. If there is anything we can do to repay you, please do not hesitate to ask."
Ako shrugged and waved them off. "It was the right thing to do."
After another few moments of silence, Skjor stood and went inside. Aela and Vilkas moved to the courtyard and started practising, she her archery and Vilkas working on a training dummy with a large greatsword. Only Kodlak remained at the table. He looked to Ako and said, "All of us are grateful, you know? It's just that most of them are uncomfortable with magic in general. Vilkas specifically. I think he might still be in denial over how close Farkas came to death yesterday. And the others have reasons in their past to be uncomfortable with you as well, however unfair it might be."
An indifferent shrug was the only reaction that Ako gave. Kodlak told him, "It would be my pleasure to invite you for dinner at my table tonight. I feel as though we have much to learn from each other."
Ako gave a short bow as he replied, "It would be my honour to accept your invitation, Harbinger."
"Excellent. See you at sunset then?"
"That sounds good to me. Until then, Harbinger."
Kodlak left Ako alone outside, and Ako walked back the way he came. He noticed a set of stairs leading up to the carved eagle that stood to the north of Jorrvaskr, which he somehow missed when he came around the first time. He started climbing the stairs, and with every step, he felt the pure, powerful magic resonating stronger within him. The resonance felt ancient, older than almost anything Ako had felt before, yet it still felt real and tangible, in the present.
When Ako reached the top of the stairs, he noted that the carved eagle stood vigil above a large forge that he surmised to be the Skyforge. An old Nord man, burly and strong, was sharpening a blade on a grindstone nearby. A water trough and an armourer's bench stood close by, with various pieces of armour and weaponry lying around. As Ako neared the forge itself, he saw that it was not a normal wood-fired forge. Instead, it looked (and gave off heat) like molten rock. He wondered what kept the rock molten, lacking an obvious heat source. The Arch-Mage theorized that the magic he could feel so strongly must be responsible.
The sound of someone clearing his throat alerted Ako to the fact that the grind of the blade against stone had stopped. Turning around, he saw the older man looking at him with a scowl on his face. He wore little in the way of clothing, muscles showing beneath the meagre straps of animal hide covering his upper body. An apron of the same material protected the lower body. It seemed like the perfect attire for someone working all day near the heat of the Skyforge, even in the cold of Skyrim.
"You're not a Companion. Who are you to bother me here?" the Nord asked gruffly.
"My apologies, Master Smith, I did not mean to be rude. I was merely curious about the magic I could feel coming from here, so I investigated," Ako replied in a soothing tone. The blacksmith appeared to be mollified by this as Ako went on, "I assume this is the famous Skyforge?"
"Aye. My clan-fathers have worked it since the Gray-Manes first came to Whiterun. Finest forge in all of Skyrim, and it produces the best steel, too. Best in all of Tamriel," the man said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.
Ako nodded appreciatively at the information, and asked, "Are you a Companion then, Master Gray-Mane?"
The Nord snorted. "Hmpf. You have nice manners for a cat. No, I am not a Companion, but I am honoured to serve them, as none of them can work a forge. I should get back to it, but before you go, you said something about magic. What did you mean?"
Ako looked surprised that a Nord, a Companion least of all, would show interest in magic. "Ah, well… I was coming from a meeting with the Circle, and I felt the magic emanating from here. I saw the stairs and took a look." Walking towards the forge, he ran his hands over the edge. "There is powerful magic here, very old as well. It would definitely help a smith, but I don't know how exactly." The Khajiit neglected to mention the dark aura that was also nearby, which had the same feeling of power and age.
"Hrm. Interesting, but I'd best get to my work," the blacksmith said, and he turned away towards the bench.
"Good day, Master Gray-Mane," Ako said in farewell. 'What a strange man… but he seems to be a good man too,' he thought to himself as he left. Going back to the inn, Ako booked another night for his room and started packing to get an early start towards the barrow the next morning.
As Ako came up to the doors of Jorrvaskr, just as the sun was setting, he could hear loud and boisterous songs coming from inside. Pushing open the door, he saw a roaring fire in a central fire pit, with tables lining one side of the pit. Elegant tapestries, embroidered with historical figures and deeds, hung from the carved pillars that seemed to support the hull. It was a strange feeling to stand in an overturned ship.
To his left several kegs of mead stood, ready to be tapped. Hunting trophies were mounted on the walls, together with various stacked weapon racks. The tables themselves were laden with roasted meat and vegetables, with very limited amounts of cutlery. The smell of alcohol and grilled venison permeated the air, with an undertone of sweat. Completing the picture was a group of 15 or so warriors, all in armour. It was very much how Ako would have imagined a band of mercenaries to act, except for the lack of brawling.
The sound of the door opening brought silence to the warriors, and most of them stared at Ako with varying degrees of suspicion. Luckily Aela quickly recognised him and called, "Arch-Mage! The Harbinger has been expecting you. Follow me, I'll take you to him." The merry band began talking softly when Ako's identity had been revealed as he followed Aela to a corner, where a flight of stairs led down.
As he reached the bottom, he noticed a dormitory room directly ahead of him and a long hallway to his right. Aela had turned right, and led Ako into a room at the end. Kodlak White-Mane was sitting at a table in the corner, with a stew of roasted venison and greens, along with fresh bread, set out on the table. The Harbinger thanked Aela and invited Ako to sit.
As they started eating, Kodlak said, "Thank you for coming Arch-Mage. I must admit, this is the first time that I have met an actively serving Arch-Mage. I have been Harbinger for nearly 2 decades, and I have not made any attempt at establishing relationships with the College."
Ako chuckled and replied, "I confess, I am in the same boat. Truth be told, I didn't even consider whether or not your company still had a presence in Skyrim until Vilkas introduced himself yesterday. And please, call me Ako."
Kodlak returned the laugh, before he asked, "I have met many Khajiit in my life, but never before one that used magic. I would like to hear the tale of your life, if you don't mind?"
"I'd be happy to tell it. I grew up as the adopted child of two Breton mages, Anton and Mena Franc. They were former court mages in High Rock, but for some reason involving the local politics and threats of jail, they moved to Cyrodiil, and eventually Leyawiin. Anton found me as a cub wrapped in blankets, on their doorstep one stormy night.
"He made concerted efforts to find my real parents, but after a few months they gave up. They were already past middle age then, but they couldn't find an orphanage." Ako gave a soft, affectionate laugh. "Apparently I had clung to Mena's legs for the next year or so, so by the time they heard of one near Cheydinhal, neither Anton nor she wanted to let me go."
Kodlak laughed at this, before he enquired, "Leyawiin is so close to Elsweyr, there must be a lot of Khajiit there. I've always found the Khajiit to be very loyal to their own. Wasn't there a family willing to take you in?"
Ako gave a bitter chuckle at the question. "I'm a pariah amongst the Khajiit. Anton theorized that was why I was abandoned as a cub. Look in my eyes and tell me you are not unnerved. Tell me you have seen eyes like mine before." His midnight blue irises around slanted slits, gold flecks prominent, sparkled in the candlelight. Kodlak had to admit they were exceedingly strange eyes, a strange uncomfortable feeling curling in his chest as he struggled to look the Arch-Mage directly in the eyes.
Curling his long tail around and up in front of him, Ako continued, "It was not only my eyes. Most Khajiit have to wait a few years before they grow their patterns. I was found with this flaming pattern already. And Khajiit are a superstitious folk. Parents cursed me as an evil omen and their cubs shunned me as a monster. The other races looked down on me because I'm a cat and I used magic. As a result, I had only one friend and a few acquaintances. Books were my real comfort, my parents having amassed a rather large library. And there was the local Mages' Conclave, and through my parents, I had nearly free rein in that library as well."
Taking a break from talking to eat, Kodlak asked him, "You mentioned one friend. Who was that?"
With a fond smile on his face, Ako finished chewing to answer, "Ma'Fea. He was a troublemaker wherever he went, but a better friend there was not. His parents were killed when the war passed through Leyawiin, so he lived on the streets with his older brothers and sisters. They were the acquaintances I mentioned. I wonder what did happen to him."
Seeing the confused look on Kodlak's face, Ako went on, "I lost contact with him when I left Leyawiin. It wasn't exactly my plan, but I haven't seen him since."
"Why did you leave Leyawiin?" Kodlak asked.
"Oh, to break house arrest. At the tender age of 16, the Thalmor placed me under de facto house arrest. I was immensely talented at magic. A year earlier the resident Thalmor operatives offered to take me to Alinor to further my training. My parents stalled for a while, but I eventually refused, because of what I had heard from Ma'Fea's siblings, what the Thalmor did in the war. And because I was well-read, even at that young age, I knew I would never agree with the Thalmor.
"Soon enough, the Leyawiin guards began 'encouraging' me to stay only at my parents' house, or at the Mages' building. It didn't stop me from sneaking out, but it did encourage me to become adept at using invisibility and muffle spells. The guards knew I was slipping around them with ease, but unfortunately, they began targeting Ma'Fea and his siblings, since they were the only ones I interacted with. With the help of my parents, I got passage on a ship to Morrowind, and from there on to Winterhold, where my history with the Thalmor was unknown. When they caught up a couple of years later, I was already a valued student under the College's protection."
Kodlak looked intrigued and impressed at the tale that Ako recited. He certainly had not expected anything like it. However, the Companion was still intrigued as to how Ako had become the head of the College, and asked the Khajiit. A sad, melancholy look came over Ako as he continued his story.
"Seven or so years after I joined, as a senior student and one of the strongest spellcasters at the College, I was part of an archaeological dig at Saarthal. You should know of it. Through a series of bizarre coincidences, we uncovered an ancient artefact of immense power. Indeed, we speculated that it was the cause of the infamous 'Night of Tears'. The artefact was retrieved and brought to the College itself.
"You have heard of the Psijic Order, I presume?" Ako asked while taking a sip of water. At Kodlak's nod, he went on, "Well, they became involved with the whole thing, and sent me on a merry trip through Eastmarch to retrieve a staff as ancient as the artefact and connected with it. You know, the artefact felt a lot like the Skyforge does."
"What do you mean by that?" Kodlak asked with a frown on his face.
Ako shrugged, and answered, "The magic coming from it. The Skyforge has strong and old magic running through it. The artefact, which we dubbed the Eye of Magnus, had the same… timeless quality to it. It felt as if had always been, and would always continue to exist. Anyhow, that was off-topic, sorry. On with the story. When I returned to the College to restock, having found the Staff of Magnus' location, the Thalmor 'adviser' to the College had somehow manipulated the Eye and shut out everyone from it. It looked like he was draining and absorbing the magical energy coming from it.
"You might have heard rumours that Winterhold exploded, about ten years back? That was Ancano, the Thalmor's, doing. The leadership of the College, stunted as it was by the explosion, immediately concluded that the Staff of Magnus should be retrieved, as soon as possible. I was sent as I was the strongest spellcaster still mobile, and I'm sure you've heard of the horrors in Labyrinthian? Because that was where the Staff was. Having blazed my way through the swarms of draugr awaiting in the ruin, I fought a dragon priest that held the Staff.
"That was the hardest fight of my life. I can honestly say I have no idea how I survived. Having claimed the Staff, I went back to the College. Since the Staff was connected to the Eye, I could drain the power that Ancano had, and with the help of the rest of the College, he was killed. The Psijics showed up, proclaimed me to be the new Arch-Mage, and spirited away the Eye. Not much has happened since, besides mastering magic that few ever have."
Kodlak looked stunned at the story, and said, "Well, boy, now that is an impressive story. So you left home at 16, became Arch-Mage at 23, and ten years later you still look like you are barely into your twenties? How?"
"Powerful mages live a long time, so I guess it has something to do with that. No one knows exactly why, but I speculate it is to do with the fact that magic comes from Aetherius. Powerful mages would be closer to the immortal plane, and as such, some traits might pass over. Some of the Telvanni Wizard-Lords are millennia old, and I assume the same goes for the Altmer mages," Ako replied with a shrug.
They continued with idle chatting for a while, until Kodlak asked Ako what had brought him to walk past the farm the previous day.
Ako looked thoughtful for a moment, before he asked Kodlak, "Have you heard about Helgen?"
"What about it?" Kodlak asked, a curious look on his face.
"It was sacked by a dragon three days ago."
"A dragon? By the Nine… does that mean the End Times are here?" Kodlak gasped, his face pale in the dwindling candlelight.
"I know next to nothing about the traditions and legends surrounding dragons, but they are real and alive now. Thought the Companions might need to know. Please don't spread it, as it may cause a panic in the populace," Ako replied. Continuing, he said with a sad smile, "Anyhow, I was in Cyrodiil for the past 3 months. I visited my parents for the last time."
"Last time? I'm sorry to hear that," Kodlak replied with sympathy.
Ako chuckled, "Oh don't be, they had long and full lives. They were in their middle sixties when they found me. It's has been 32 years since. They sent me a letter, saying they wanted to see me a last time. I haven't been home since I left half a lifetime ago. I got there, and we caught up on everything that had happened since I left. They were old and tired of clinging on to life through the healers' and their own magic though, so they just stopped the healing, and passed in peace," Ako said with a melancholic look.
He went on, "After I buried them, I wandered through Cyrodiil for a month and a half, making my way north, living off the land as much as I could. I passed through Helgen just as it was attacked, and came here with fellow refugees."
Kodlak frowned at that statement, "Surely you could take on a dragon, Arch-Mage?"
A rueful laugh was Ako's response. "I hit it with spells that would have killed almost everything in Tamriel. If it noticed it, it did not show it. It certainly wasn't hindered by the spells."
Kodlak just stared at Ako with wide eyes. The Khajiit noticed and said in a comforting tone, "But I would also note I didn't have access to my full magical ability, and it appeared a lot bigger than the dragon that hangs above Jarl Balgruuf's throne. I would guess it was unusually powerful. Others might be less powerful, or it might be vulnerable to more powerful spells."
Kodlak looked at Ako, saying with a small grin spreading up his face, "Ah well. Either way, I'll make sure to go to Sovngarde in a way fitting for a warrior."
"Only if you can find the cure."
"Ah, yes… that is true. Arch-Mage… if you don't mind me asking, how would the cure work? And are you sure you can't do it?" Kodlak asked with a sad look.
Ako thought for a bit, struggling to find words. "Well, from what I know, the wolf's blood is not really to do with blood, but rather a spirit which then taints the blood. To be cursed means to entwine your soul with that of the spirit, bond them but not quite permanently. As odd as it may sound, a necromancer would be your best bet in removing the wolf spirit. I have a working knowledge of it, but I consider necromancy that works with black souls to be abhorrent. Therefore, I have an idea of the theory, but no practical experience."
Ako sighed before he went on, "I could probably do it without too much trouble, but I do not have enough confidence in my knowledge to try something like this for the first time on people. For example, I can heal scars, no matter their age or severity. The procedure is dangerous and can easily spiral out of control, but I have practised enough on dead animals and willing prisoners to have complete confidence. This has the same complications. I might be able to do it, but you could die in a horrendously painful way."
The Nord looked grim as they sat in silence. Ako broke it by saying, "I'm sorry that I can't be of more help. But, I can promise that I'll look in our archives for anything on the subject, and help as much as I can. Unfortunately, my main focus must be the return of the dragons. But the Arch-Mage can delegate some of his work." Ako had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes with that last statement.
Kodlak's spirits seemed to lift at that. As the evening progressed, the two leaders talked amiably on the current events and found a refreshing common ground in remaining neutral with regards to the civil war. When Ako made to leave, he suddenly remembered the Skyforge and turned to ask the Harbinger, "Excuse me, Harbinger! I just remembered. You said this afternoon that I have but to ask if I need something."
Kodlak nodded for Ako to go on. "Well, I would like to use the Skyforge in the not too distant future to craft a staff for myself. My previous staff is sharing the ashes of Helgen," Ako said with a wry smile. The Harbinger gave a short bark of laughter before he said yes.
After the farewells, Ako walked back to the inn. Stopping at the top of the stairs leading down to the lower district, the Plains district he'd learned, he admired the beauty of the skies. The aurorae were bright, the northern lights dancing in colours he had only rarely seen before. Pulsing briskly in wavy forms, the blue and yellow glows were smattered with purple blotches, a far cry from the usual green or red that the Northern Lights produced.
Somehow, seeing these strange aurorae gave Ako a feeling that the world was changing, in many more ways than one, and it would not necessarily be for the best.
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Somehow got 6 and a half thousand words out of a chapter that was meant to get us to where the next chapter ends... Ako, why do you wander so? Anyhow, apologies if some parts seem rambly and very much info dump like – my initial audience I wrote this for had little to no idea what the Elder Scrolls series is, hence me adding parts that might be common knowledge for most readers now. As all the other early chapters, my immense gratitude to empire1003 for proofreading this and making it many magnitudes better. Hope you enjoy, and I welcome any and all feedback. Especially in a chapter like this, please let me know if the characters are distinct from each other and sound different. Probably my greatest worry.
Glad to hear you enjoy it. Hopefully I can continue to keep that standard. The bit with the water and a fluffy Arch-Mage was intended to be a funny scene, but I can fully understand that it won't be funny for everyone.
- Location
- Italy
Well, it seems that a wild plot is coming forward... I wonder what will happen.
Also, how the relationship with the Companion will develop, considering the differences between the game and this story...
Also, how the relationship with the Companion will develop, considering the differences between the game and this story...
WinterLantern
Smoked bird
- Location
- North England
A budding friendsgip between the college and companions seems incredibly wholesome
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Indeed. It wasn't planned at all, but it is clear to me that I'm merely the chronicler of Ako's story, and not the author as naive observers might expect. I've already tried to make contingency plans to minimise the future appearances of the Companions, but I don't have much hope that those plans are worth the kindling they'd make if printed out... But yes, the two nominally Good factions of Skyrim will definitely benefit from closer relations.
- Location
- Somewhere in the area
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
You know, considering how comfortable Ako is with Daedra, and his sense of curiosity leading him constantly chase after things that catch his interest, I'd be interested to see how he interacts with the Forsworn and the unique magical practices of the Reach. I've always had a soft spot for them, and felt that they had a lot of potential that was left unused when they were assigned the "violent demon-worshiping savage" role.
Similarly with the Falmer, who despite being forcibly devolved into "animals" by the dwarves, still seem to have a language, agriculture, animal husbandry, alchemy and possibly religion. They are only ever used as "creepy cave monsters" by the game, but I always felt that it was a missed opportunity to not explore how they live as a society in the vast underground ecosystems beneath Skyrim.
Similarly with the Falmer, who despite being forcibly devolved into "animals" by the dwarves, still seem to have a language, agriculture, animal husbandry, alchemy and possibly religion. They are only ever used as "creepy cave monsters" by the game, but I always felt that it was a missed opportunity to not explore how they live as a society in the vast underground ecosystems beneath Skyrim.