Foreword: Hello! I'm a complete newbie here, have read a few stories but this is my first trial writing fan-fiction. I hope to finish it. I tried to make it as lore-correct as I could, but you never know if you missed something. Also, I'm Brazilian and therefore English isn't my native language, so there could be a few issues with that (I'm writing directly in English, no translation). Let me hear what you think! :)
Voice of our Elders
"In the tides of the sea that surrounds
At the terrible sight of the moon
In a glory that never knows bounds
With our Ancestors' grace carefully strewn
Lies the Order; our paragon of Old
And the Tower, which power conduits
Lie the mysteries richer than gold
Elder Ways and most noble pursuits" – Silderon the Poet of Alinor, 2E180
Such was written in the book that the young man carefully examined that day, in his commonly-occurring thirst for any new poetry he could get his hands on. His body was firmly planted in that particular, almost unattended corner of the keep, nevertheless close to the path most neophytes took to the exposition halls just in front.
Amidst his gray cotton robes and the many rings in both his hands, one could barely see the delicate inscription sewn in golden thread at the sleeve-end: Alayon. That, and his whole attire, if we are to comment on it, were the most precious material possessions the young man had to his name; all of them confined to this keep and the island in general. Nothing could compare to his mental treasures, however: the taste for poetry, the insatiable curiosity – as befitted a man in his path of life – and the memories that had tied his life to that place so far.
"Master Uccaen is coming soon, Alayon! You wouldn't want to be late for this."
"Calm down Casslon," said him, slowly closing and returning the book to a wooden shelf. "I'm coming already. Did I mention today how lucky am I to have you warn me of our schedules?"
"We haven't met today, until now", said Casslon with a semblance of a witty smile, which was all but betrayed by his eyes, always restless, jolted with life.
Alayon and Casslon had been friends for a while now, ever since the latter was broken out of the keep's pantry by the former, two months ago. Casslon had discovered the hard way that the older members of the Order, even the ones assigned to the most mundane chores, knew how to work a trap as well as casting the most basic spells – which means, pretty well. Alayon was in the middle of his fairly common nightly walk around the bottom floors of the building when he heard Casslon's whispers for help, and decided to liberate his partner in studies because after all, he, too, did not enjoy the strict supper regime the aspirants had to suffer through.
They kept a steady pace while discussing the most various things: how was the weather promising to be, did the orchards nearby produce good fruit this week, little hints on how to make your torso muscles tense during meditation. They walked oblivious through the towering columns of Taheritae's Keep, surrounding a cloister where a small natural waterfall dissolved into a still pond, breathing water mist into the arcades. The stone walls seemed as if alive, closely integrated with the view one had when looking at it from afar: a steep hill, covered in spruce trees in all but its very peak, sided on half of its base-length with three layers of buildings. The first one was turned into ruin, betraying its astounding longevity, and the subsequent buildings by the Order gave the impression of merging into the hill and not merely standing still on the ancient stones; indeed, it was as if the Keep had been carved straight into the natural rock.
"Ah! So for once you two decide to arrive in time", proclaimed a fierce voice from beyond the massive portal as the two youngsters made a turn right past the arcades. The high ceiling in the rock-hewn structure, and the circular room, seemed to serve a purpose on its own: namely, to astonish the neophytes and give the impression of majesty, which made them instinctively more reverent of their masters while in the exposition room. Alayon and Casslon quickly recognized the silhouette of Master Uccaen on the far end of the room. The water mist from the nearby cloister made the air here slightly more humid still; light danced downwards from the arc-shaped windows perched high on the immense walls.
"Make haste young men, we have important things to go over today", said Uccaen while scanning the room. Around twenty youngsters, mostly Altmeri with a minority of Bretons, in all kinds of colourful robes and hoods, gathered in the room in anxious silence that was so typical of those special classes, as you may call them. Today was the first reunion after the Oath, and these initiates were to be made more familiar with the Order by having the first exposition with Grandmaster Iachesis himself, the chief authority in Artaeum, whose power and influence knew no boundaries even into the palaces of Tamriel and the Summerset Isles.
"The Grandmaster is here", said a voice close to the portal. As Uccaen lifted his eyes and the students turned their backs nearly synchronically, two impressively tall Altmeri in master robes approached the group. Behind them came a less impressive figure, older, shorter, bulkier yet with amazing presence. His eyes were piercing, advanced age slightly showing, and his face had the semblance of stone, with a strong jaw and not showing any emotion as they passed slowly through the initiates, and seemed to observe carefully each one of them.
After that slow review of the troops and a discreet bow to acknowledge the presence of Uccaen, the elder man took hold of a long staff given to him by one of his companions. Supporting part of his body weight smoothly upon it, he began the exposition with tranquil voice.
"Greetings, Neophytes. It is a most exciting feeling to see you here because it makes an elder think of the long ways we traversed, the trials and rewards many of us bore, and the centuries since we broke off from society at large. All of those things carry the weight of fate upon themselves, and carefully set many other things in motion. Keep that in mind, since all of it conspired to bring you here, at this particular time. But allow me to introduce myself. I am Grandmaster Iachesis, and I bid you an official welcome to Artaeum, now as proper initiates of our Psijic Order, and keepers of the Old Ways."
"Hear, hear!" could be listened among the anxious yet low-volume clapping that ensued. Alayon looked at Casslon, who watched Iachesis with an inquiring gaze shortly before answering the look, with eyes that spelt effusiveness and the strongest will to get going with all of that. Alayon himself was puzzled and excited as well; maybe the Grandmaster's presence induced that kind of special feel, after all he was a very powerful person.
"I would like to extend my gratitude to Uccaen as well, for all his work in giving you the introductory school and the most basic information on our Order and its beliefs", said Iachesis, and while he didn't look at Uccaen, the teaching master thankfully bowed his head for the recognition. "Now, I wish you to indulge me by trying to answer some things… all of which you should know by now."
Low buzzing began among the neophytes.
"Silence! Could anyone explain to me, in short if you so wish, what are the Old Ways?"
And everyone was quiet. Sure, it was a concept at the core of everything in the Psijic Order, it was its raison d'être, so Uccaen had taken care to hammer it in everyone's minds by then. However to talk about such profound things with the Grandmaster himself… it just felt different.
"I can", Alayon was startled to hear the voice by his side say. Casslon was quick to rise and attract the attention of all in the semicircle. "There is a spiritual world, another plane, existing in parallel with the world of our senses. Those unaware of it can only look at the world and marvel in ignorance, for the most important dealings take place in this spiritual world. The Old Ways teach that our communication channel with this world is the spirit of our ancestors, who have achieved a higher level of power, and such became knowing of the inner workings of that other dimension. It is about contacting the true gods, the Aldmeri ancestors."
"Contacting all ancestors, young man!" Iachesis burst, not in an angry way, but paternalistic. "Surely you read Taheritae, who spoke about the Aldmer, yet in those times all we knew was our own kind, and the Order was completely made of our race… yet time and wisdom made us realize this spiritual strength lies in ancestor spirits of mer and man alike", he corrected calmly. "Nonetheless, a short and mostly accurate presentation; you have my thanks for standing up."
Casslon was satisfied as he sat once more, throwing Alayon a classic "Did you watch?" look. Alayon was torn between analyzing Casslon's self-righteous face and noticing that the few Breton neophytes present slightly changed their postures, chests and head slightly upwards after Iachesis' intervention.
"Very well, now, before I even ask this next question, you should know that all knowledge comes in due time. With your current wisdom, however, you could at least give me an idea of what is the great and honored so-called School of Mysticism?"
The buzzing started once more, for while the anxiety of the first question wore off, the School of Mysticism was a tough subject even within the Order, if the ancient writings were to be believed. While it dealt with powers that were very much real and palpable, the energy used was very mysterious in its character. Alayon and Casslon sat straight; their interest in experiments with Mysticism was another thing that bonded the two.
Another student rose. "Master, I admit to know little. But Mysticism seems to be one practical aspect of the Old Ways. A lot has been said about it in the world outside the Order. By that I mean… the manifestations we can observe arise from manipulating the energy of the spiritual plane. Would it be a call to the ancestors and then depending on their actions? I think it's hard to say the magicka user has no agency in something he does, let alone a working as powerful as telekinesis, for example. This dependance on the energies of spirits could be a form of necro…"
"Young one, all in due time! It is not wise to think aloud without sound basis or evidence, especially if you are surrounded by curious minds… like here and now." Iachesis pondered for a second. "It was an useful explanation, and you have my thanks. However it is not the point." Silence filled the room.
"So far you have been filled with the knowledge of our ancients, with the unavoidable pre-concepts we carry from our life outside Artaeum, with the seductive riches of literature and lore. The Order presents to you a different worldview, and ultimately a different world altogether. We need you to let go of what you held as absolute truth before. In fact, we need you not to believe in an undisputed truth, but on the power and sway of Change, which affects from the tiniest Luna Moth to the towering peaks of Oblivion." One could hear a Luna Moth flying around as Iachesis' voice and words enraptured the group.
"Change is driven by mystery as much as it's driven by action. I, and the Order as a whole, expect you to maintain the curiosity that brought you this far. For it is your main tool to unravel mystery, find a course of action, and bring Change upon the Universe. I am satisfied with your group", and then his eyes scanned the neophytes once again as they did in his arrival. They rested for half a second more upon Alayon, in the back; giving the youngster a shiver of some intensity.
In that moment of self-searching catalyzed by Iachesis' words, Alayon recalled his own story as being unusual, and it wasn't the first time he saw the Grandmaster. Even at that time, sitting like any other neophyte in the bright vast room, something told him that his task had something more to it.