The Elder Scrolls:

Equilibrium

By

Nanashi

Chapter 1

Dante Ragionare

Boring! I shouted. Well…in my head, anyway. Shouting aloud was a surefire way to get one of Professor Eliseo Aleron's world-famous scoldings, and I definitely wasn't in the mood for that. I was in a lecture hall at the Arcane University, paying less attention than most of the other students, including the one constructing a flying machine out of parchment. But I could hear Professor Aleron, the instructor of the class I attended on dragons, rambling on and on about the Dragon War and how Alduin the World-Eater nearly ended life as we know it.

I don't remember anything about Alduin's return. It all happened about ten years ago, when I was six. I've heard from most people, and about a thousand times from Professor Aleron, that Alduin was some ancient, evil dragon who tried to enslave all mortal life a really long time ago. But some Nordic heroes tried to banish him using the Elder Scrolls and accidentally sent him forward in time to the Fourth Era. Alduin tried to finish what he started, but a hero called the Dragonborn defeated him once and for all. That's all I really knew about it.

I held my head in my hand, leaning over my desk as the professor finished his lecture the same way he always did. "We must never forget, young ones," I mouthed the familiar words as he babbled, "dragons, while indeed a fascinating subject of study, are vicious, malevolent beasts. They are not to be approached!"

I let out a loud sigh. "What's wrong, Mr. Ragionare?" the professor asked. "Are you confused by something?"

"No, it's not that. I don't buy it."

He paused for a second, dumbfounded, with his mouth slightly agape. "Excuse me?" he said, incredulously. "You don't 'buy' what, exactly?"

I inhaled dramatically. "You keep telling us that all dragons are evil. They can't all be evil, that just doesn't seem possible. And they're born that way? Come on."

Professor Aleron's eyes bulged, and he stumbled backward as if he'd been slapped in the face. "Boy…are you suggesting that I, after having spent the better part of my life researching these creatures and their history with us, know nothing of Dragonkind, and that you, a mere child of sixteen, are better informed?"

"No, that's not what I meant." My eyes drifted to the window. "I just don't think that anything could be born evil. It doesn't make sense." I turned back to the professor and narrowed my eyes a bit. "I don't buy it."

The professor chuckled, as if I were a child who had just suggested that Nirn might be flat. "Dante," he started. He always called me by my first name when he was telling me how wrong I was. "You poor, naive young boy." He crossed his arms. "Nothing is born evil, you say? What of the Dremora? The Daedra? Are they not born evil?"

"Well…yeah, I guess they are. But dragons aren't Daedra. I mean, they were created by Akatosh, right? The chief deity of the Eight Divines? I don't think Akatosh would have made anything evil by nature."

Professor Aleron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course," he started impatiently, "Akatosh did not create them that way. It is obvious that Alduin's false claim of godhood and lordship over Nirn brought a curse on him and his kin that blackened their hearts." I rolled my eyes. This guy really did have an answer for everything.

"Class dismissed. You may go now." The other students were standing before the professor had finished his sentence and began chatting amongst themselves as they left the room. I stretched my arms and back for a few seconds before lazily rising to my feet and gathering my belongings, then headed for the door. I didn't have any obligations to attend the other classes going on at the university, so I was considering heading home for the day. Professor Aleron's lectures had a way of draining all my energy.

"Why don't you stay back for a moment, Mr. Ragionare."

"Sure. What's up?"

"'What's up?'" He repeated. "Well, I'll tell you 'what's up.'" He then proceeded to tell me exactly what was up. "You're still not getting it. You're not understanding the nature of dragons. You can't hope to get anything out of this class if you refuse to accept facts for what they are."

"But how do you know it's a fact?" I said, lifting my hands up and letting them fall and hit my legs in an incredulous gesture. "How do you know that dragons are born vicious and aggressive, and don't become that way for some other reason? I just don't think it's possible that anything could be born evil."

Professor Aleron heaved a sigh of exhaustion. "Dante, there are things in this world that we can't always explain. Things that are the way they are without any real reason. Thi—"

"How can that be, though?" I glanced and gestured sharply up towards Aetherius. "Why would the Gods make something the way it is for no reason?"

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking," he snapped. "As I was saying, while we can't always explain or understand why things are the way they are, we must accept these facts because the Divines act in ways we mortals cannot hope to comprehend. Understand?"

"Yeah, sure…"

"I can see you're still confused." The professor had probably mistaken my dissatisfied expression for confusion. "Hmm… What will it take to make you understand?" he asked himself aloud.

"I've got it. Dante, I've written a letter to a young colleague of mine who lives in Skyrim, the heart of the dragon infestation. That being said, I have a sort of remedial lesson in mind for you."

"Oh…?"

"Yes. I want you to act as my courier and deliver this message to Farengar Secret-Fire. He serves as court mage in Dragonsreach, the palace in the capital of Whiterun Hold."

"What does this have to do with dragons?"

"I was getting to that, if you would be kind enough to allow me to finish."

"Please, by all means…"

"At any rate, Farengar is Skyrim's authority on dragons. Their nature, their origin, their language, and even their habitats. While you're there, you ought to spend some time discussing your theories and philosophies on dragons with him." Professor Aleron seemed to stop short, like he had more to say, but decided against it and clamped his mouth shut.

So he can put you in your place, I imagined the rest of his sentence for him. I bit my lip and furrowed my brow as I thought it over. The Arcane University wasn't the type of school in which you enrolled in classes and had to attend them to achieve passing marks or anything like that. It was a place where people could go to learn about all things magic, and how it's affected the world and its history. Students who showed a strong enough desire for arcane knowledge, and were deemed responsible enough to wield that knowledge, were granted access to the university's classes and services and were free to come and go as they pleased. In other words, I had no obligations here. I didn't have to attend Professor Aleron's lectures, much less run his errands for him. But still…

"Alright, I'll do it." Travelling all the way to Skyrim just to deliver some stupid letter seemed like more of a chore than it was worth, but if there was any chance of proving this man wrong, by the Divines I would find the lost continent of Akavir. I decided I'd find Farengar Secret-Fire, and I'd get him to sign a piece of parchment saying "they aren't born that way, you know." Then I'd bring it back to Professor Aleron and rub it in his snide face. I was getting pretty bored of classes here anyway, so this would be a fun field trip.

"Splendid." Professor Aleron reached into his desk and pulled out a sealed envelope. "Being a solitary traveler with no more cargo than a personal letter, I doubt bandits will give you any trouble. What with the war still going on and soldiers patrolling every road between here and Winterhold, you should be fine if you stick to the main paths. I wish you luck on your journey, and look forward to your return. Take care and exercise caution should you encounter any of those monsters."

I bowed to the professor and turned toward the door. I felt a bit of resistance as I pushed the door open and heard a feminine squeak. Then the door became lighter suddenly, and I stepped outside to see a girl standing to my right, whistling and tracing a circle on the floor with her toe, trying to look innocent. The girl was a little shorter than me, and she had a youthful, carefree face shrouded by dark, shiny, wavy hair. Her bangs were parted and swept to the side, falling just below her eyebrows with dark blue eyes, nearly the color of the night sky when both moons are full, shining from behind them. Despite her startled expression, there was a sort of playfulness deep in her eyes. I knew her, she was in my class. Her name was…Cuh-rin On-joo-wee or…something.

"Oh!" she blurted. "Um…hi! I was just…" Her eyes darted side to side, scanning her surroundings. "Checking out this crack in the wall!" She pointed at a stone in the wall near the door. "See? Cool, right? I thought it kinda looked like a dragon's tail."

I leaned toward the crack and squinted. It looked like a crack in the wall. "Um…yeah, it kind of does. I guess. Anyway, see you later." I started walking down the hall for the exit. I felt her watch me until I had rounded a corner and was out of her sight.

It was just before sundown when I finally left the Arcane University, which lies just outside the Imperial City, the capital of Cyrodiil. I cut through the Arboretum and Green Emperor's way to reach the Market District. If I was going to Skyrim, I was going to need some supplies. I figured warm clothes were a good start, since Skyrim is the coldest province in Tamriel, so I started at "Divine Elegance," the only clothing store I knew of in the Imperial City.

I pushed the door open and stepped in, looking around at all the fine clothing hanging around the shop. In hindsight, I probably should have known that a store with a name like "Divine Elegance" would be way too expensive for me.

"Come in, come in!" said the proprietor. She was a High Elven woman called Cymbalia, an old-fashioned Altmer name, and seemed friendly enough. Cymbalia took my sleeve and practically dragged me into the shop. "You certainly look like you could use some new clothes," she said, looking me up and down as she did. At the time all I wore was a plain green shirt, brown cotton pants, and a worn out pair of dark leather boots. That was about all I could afford.

"Yeah, I could use some clothes. What have you got that's warm?"

"Oh, going on a trip, are we? Warm… Headed for Skyrim, no doubt?"

"That's right."

"Let me see…" Cymbalia sifted through racks and wardrobes of clothing and pulled out five big, poofy longcoats with oversized fur collars. "Do any of these suit your taste?"

"Well," I grimaced. "They do look warm…" And expensive, I thought. I examined the coats and pointed at the one with the simplest appearance. A black longcoat with gold embroidery around the cuffs and buttons. "How 'bout that one?"

"Splendid choice!" she said. "That will be five thousand Septims."

"!?" I choked wordlessly. "I could buy a house with that much money!"

"Well, sure." She turned up her nose and some of her friendliness vanished. "If you wish to live in a hut fit for an animal."

"Do you have anything a little…cheaper?"

Cymbalia sighed and tapped her foot on the stone floor. "Perhaps. Wait here a moment."

She strode to a door behind the counter leading to a back room, opened it, and stepped through, slamming it shut behind her. She came back a few moments later with a pair of brown fur boots and a coat of the same color, though the coat's sleeves were completely gone, assuming it ever had any, so it was more like a vest. She also carried a belt made of a darker brown leather with a gold-colored buckle.

"Here," she said, looping the belt around my waist and over my shirt, fastening the buckle impatiently. She shoved my arms through the "sleeves" of the coat and ordered me to put on the boots. So I did, taking off my old leather boots and replacing them with the new ones. "There," said Cymbalia. She examined me with a hint of distastefulness in her expression, as if she were looking at an unappealing work of art. "It'll have to do. That'll be twenty-five Septims."

I looked at myself in my new clothes, relieved that they were more affordable. "That's better. What's the belt for?"

"Well, you needed something to remedy that dreadful lack of color in your outfit. The belt should do nicely."

"But why would I wear a belt over my shirt?"

"Must I spell it out for you, child? The belt adds color! For that, it must be seen, yes? So it must be over your shirt. Understand?"

"I guess." I gave her the twenty-five Septims, thanked her, and left "Divine Elegance" in my new outfit. It was sort of hot out, so I took the coat off and carried it in my arms.

Next I decided to get a weapon of some sort, so my next stop was "A Fighting Chance." Being a student at the Arcane University, it would make more sense for me to blast fireballs and lightning bolts at any trouble that came my way. The truth was, though, that I had no magical ability to speak of. I couldn't even master the Candlelight spell, said to be the easiest of them all. I didn't know how to use a sword, either, but I figured it would be easier to pretend that I was a swordsman than a mage.

I didn't spend too much time in "A Fighting Chance." Most of what I found in there was way out of my price range or well beyond my skill level. I did see this really awesome and powerful-looking battleaxe on the wall that apparently had an enchantment on it, but it was even more expensive than that black and gold fur coat was. All I wound up buying was a sword and a dagger, both made of iron, which I hung from my new belt before paying for my new gear and heading home.

Since my mother passed due to illness when I was young and my father was stationed Gods know where as an Imperial Soldier, I was pretty much on my own. That meant I didn't have to clear my little adventure with a guardian or anything before leaving. I packed a few knapsacks with some extra clothes and a leather journal in case I found anything noteworthy in Skyrim. Maybe I'll find a dragon, and I can interview it, I mused.

When night fell I went to bed, lying awake for a while as I tried to picture Skyrim. I imagined a white, snowy land with snow-covered evergreen trees and cozy little huts with smoke puffing out of their chimneys. I got to thinking that the trip ahead might not be so bad. Sure, there was still the civil war going on, but I could keep clear of that. Snow would be a welcome change from the warm climate of the Imperial City this time of year.

I tried to imagine the dragons I might see. Huge, powerful, flying reptiles. Fire pouring out of their jaws. Dangerous, deadly. But I wasn't worried. Somehow I knew there was more to them than just thoughtless monsters. I just knew that they couldn't be born evil. And I knew that I was going to prove it.

. . .

Cold. The only word that can be used to describe the Jerall Mountains. Or maybe cold isn't a severe enough word. Freezing? Nope. Still not enough. I'll put it this way: my face was so cold that I wanted to rub my nose to at least warm that up a little, but I was afraid that if I tried it would simply snap off my face. My arms and hands were cold, too, since I'd bought a coat without any sleeves, but at least it kept my chest warm if I pulled it around myself. It didn't fasten or button in the front.

I shivered violently and my teeth chattered as the wagon I'd hired, pulled by a horse with thick enough hair to withstand the harsh climate of Skyrim, drove through the Pale Pass. I was still in Cyrodiil moving up the mountains. I was hoping that going down the other side would be easier, and that it would start to get warmer as the elevation decreased.

It was silent for the most part, save for the constant creaking of the wagon wheels and the blowing of the wind. Even the carriage driver sitting beside me hardly spoke at all. It was actually quite awkward. One of the wheels hit a large rock and the wagon bounced violently upward on the right side. My luggage in the back of the wagon bounced up as well, and I heard the sound of a metal object clang as it hit something solid, which, at that time, I assumed was the wooden frame of the wagon. That noise didn't bother me. The noise that did startle me, however, was the sound of a high-pitched voice squealing "ouch!"