Dear Master,

Thank you for granting me the opportunity to research daedric artifacts in Skyrim.

I pledge to study as many artifacts as I can for the continued safety of the Empire.

The Oblivion Crisis shall never repeat itself – the daedra shall never again strike us unawares.

Your servant,

Alzena

"Be careful when you peer into Oblivion, because Oblivion peers into you."

"Rogvir!" The screaming woman threw towards the man with a rope around his neck. Someone grabbed her. "Let me go! Rogvir! Don't let them do this!"

"Imperial bastards," a man near me muttered

I flinched. Of all the days to arrive in Solitude - or did they do this every day? I pulled my hood over my forehead, and sunk into my velvet blue robes. They wouldn't hide the fact I was a foreigner – they were standard Imperial Academy issue – but at least I felt safer.

A trio of men pumped their fists. "Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!" Another group joined in. "Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"

Edging away, I sat on a wooden step. A brightly painted sign swung above me – "The Radiant Ramient". All the shops were locked, of course.

A soldier – in familiar Imperial colors – thrust the prisoner's head onto the block. An unnatural hush fell.

The prisoner's eyes blazed. "On this day," he pronounced, "I go to Sovengarde."

The axe fell.

His eyes bulged, and his mouth moved, as if to speak, or breathe. His body twitched in a gruesome dance. My stomach lurched, and I put my head in my knees. Someone brushed against my pack, and I scooted over to make room.

They were still there, though. I looked up, and blinked. It was a man, best described as reptilian, with a high forehead, sharp features. A foreigner, like me. I let out a sigh of relief.

"You're new here?" His slanted eyes fixed on me, belying his casual stance.

No sense pretending. I nodded.

"Perhaps we could be…friends." He licked his lips with a spindly tongue. "Name's Jaree-Ra."

"Alzena." I nodded again. If nothing else, the Academy had taught us manners.

"Passing through Solitude, Alzena?" His voice was warm and conversational – but it didn't match his face, which resembled a hungry lizard. "Maybe you're looking to make some easy gold, yes?"

Thankfully, I wasn't. The Master had sent me off with an enormous purse of gold, well enough to cover my research for months, if not more. More gold than I had ever seen before, although he undoubtedly had his position at the Academy to thank for that. The Academy and the castle went hand-in-hand. "No."

He shrugged an angular shoulder. "If you change your mind, I'll be over there." He pointed towards a shadowed pavilion, just out of sight of the busy stream of watchmen and priests and merchants.

With a start, I realized he was missing a finger. Quickly, I averted my gaze. "Thanks." He wandered off.

The crowd was dispersing in a buzz of whispers. I rubbed my eyes. The Master had told me to get settled in Solitude's inn, and that seemed as good a plan as any. Right now, I just needed rest.

Although I had spent little time in inns – the Master kept me busy – the inn, at least, felt cozy and familiar. It was only midday, but several of the tables were full. Mostly men. A man whose clothes bulged over his muscles – presumably, the innkeep – shot me a harsh look, and I hastened to the corner, my hood still pulled forward.

A man in a threadbare tunic slammed down a mug. "He died an honourable man. Skyrim's for the Nords."

"Bah." The scent of polish practically wafted from this man's crisp new leather armor. "Man's a traitor, deserved to die a traitor."

"Rogvir was an honourable man, no one's disputing that." This, from a man with grey streaking his unkempt beard. "But it had to be done." He shook his head. "Imagine, if they just let him go. The rebellion would take over."

I couldn't believe it. No one back home had said anything about a war.

I shoved the thought aside. My mission was important, more important than some petty war. The Master had drilled that into me the very first day of my apprenticeship. Our job was to protect the Empire – indeed, the entire world – from the true threat – the daedra. All other concerns paled.

If they knew the true threat of the daedra, they wouldn't fight among themselves.

A woman with limp brown hair came up to me. "Something to eat?"

My stomach still felt like a hand was squeezing it…but I needed to eat someday. "Sure." She turned, and came back with a bowl of stew, which she plunked down. I warmed my hands on the bowl. It looked hearty but bland – stringy bits of goat's meat, hunks of cabbage. I had a feeling I'd be eating a lot of cabbage.

"Bard!" The man in the slick armor rapped on the table. "Sing us a song!"

Blinking sweetly, a woman started strumming a lute. "Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes."

"They teach you that drivel at the College?" The man scowled.

The innkeep came up beside him. "That's our story, and this is our land. We're Nords, mate. And wouldn't it be something if some Dragonborn came and saved us from those soldiers killing our boys."

The man narrowed his eyes. "You a traitor too?"

"No." The innkeep wiped his hands on his apron. "Just a simple Nord." He went back to the bar.

I gulped down the stew. I had less of a desire to stay here than before. Maybe Solitude had another inn.

What was I even doing here anyway? The Master could have left me better instructions. Asking me to look for daedric artifacts was like asking me to find a needle in a province full of haystacks – half of them buried under snowpack. And yet, all he'd said – cryptically, as usual – was that I wouldn't have to look too hard, for when you peered into Oblivion, Oblivion peered back into you. As if daedric artifacts just jumped into people's hands.

At least, starting off in Solitude made sense because it was big – maybe it had libraries, or something.

I dug into my pack to pay. Suddenly, my stomach lurched again, the taste of fat and meat rising to my mouth. Frantically, I emptied my pack onto the wooden table, spilling out quills, parchment, a tunic, smallclothes – hastily, I shoved those under the tunic. I stopped short of upending my daedric primers onto the table, though – I wasn't about to dump out banned books in a local inn. Not books that could get me killed. Like Rogvir.

But it wasn't there. No matter where I looked my coin purse was nowhere to be found.

What did they do to you here if you didn't pay?

My mouth dry, I sifted through everything again, in vain, and then shoved everything back into the pack.

The innkeep bent down beneath the bar. Glasses clanked.

Now was my chance.

Mara, hide me, I prayed, slipping out the door. As soon as I had crossed the road, I bolted into the crowd, stopping only when I got to the city gates.

The reality hit me like Solitude's grey stone bricks.

I was alone. I had nothing.

How did you get money? Did you just ask someone for a job? I had never had to work. Academy life was sparse, but they fed us twice a day, and gave us new robes every spring.

What did people do here, anyway? Chop wood? Clear the fields? Clean the midden? I had never done any of that.

I did know a lot about arcane languages, and daedra – but I was no alchemist. I didn't know how to translate any of that into gold.

My heart rushed. What else could I do? Begging? Pickpocketing? Selling myself at the tavern? By the Eight, no – and I didn't even know how to go about any of that.

How would I explain to the Master that I had failed on my very first day?

My eyes strayed to Jaree-Ra's spot. Maybe he was still there.

Praying to all the gods I knew, I walked over.

He was sunning himself in the wan light, his eyes closed. As I breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes flickered open. "Back so soon?"

Author notes:

Welcome to the story!

The first couple chapters have been revised. (So, no, your memory isn't playing tricks on you!)

While I'm trying my best to follow game lore, in some cases, I've added more backstory to the secondary characters. Also, of course, Alzena's situation isn't part of game canon, although I'm trying to integrate it as a plausible "what if?"

Reviews and constructive criticism are most appreciated!