"And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade."
- Lord Byron
"The best liar is he who makes the smallest amount of lying go the longest way."
- Samuel Butler
from the Study Hall
Tirdas, 21 of Rain's Hand, 4E 202
Dear Aela:
After some minor issues down the road, we have reached Winterhold all right. My pet mage has aced his admission's exams and we are nicely settled. So far, so good. We got here Sundas afternoon, so I've only had the chance to have a very quick glimpse at the library. It is huge. May even be bigger than our entire hall, and all full of books! The librarian is an old Orc called Urag, who, of course, won't give me the time of day – he thinks I'm an illiterate housecarl, and as far as he's concerned, if I cared about magic I would've enrolled in the College myself.
Fortunately, Marcurio was taken to do the rounds with each instructor, on his first day, and apparently impressed everybody. He'll gain Urag's respect quickly, I hope. The dorms are comfy enough, although a lot quieter than our whelp room. Empty beds are nowhere near scarce, so I got my own. A lot of students, especially the higher-level ones, keep ale and brandy under their beds, and sleeping tree sap seems to be a popular past time, too. I always thought mage types were into more ascetic lifestyles? Or is it the Greybeards I'm thinking about?
Maybe all those mages who go mad and start terrorising towns are just high?
The town itself is small and there doesn't seem to be much to do. The other students seem nice, but shy – I had to switch into hide armour, it scares them less. Apparently a lot of them were constantly cussed as kids. I can hear you calling them milkdrinkers and slapping them all, if you were here.
Everything moves at a different pace here: lectures are long, expeditions are planned weeks in advance, and students walk slowly while heatedly debating things. Apparently if you're trying to acquire a thousand years of accumulated knowledge, there's no need to get anything done before lunch.
I miss you all.
Love,
Sira
P.S.: Tell Farkas he owes me 50 septims: there is a nord here, his name is Odmund. He makes Hadvar sound like an uncouth brute, but is a bit on the pasty side. I'd take him adventuring outdoors if it weren't always freezing.
Marcurio, Onmund the Paladin (who doesn't know Marcurio calls him that), and a slim female Dunmer were gathered around a cheese wheel, sharing notes about a book on Illusion. I had nothing else better to do (as usual) after a morning of being frowned at by Urag, and was acutely hungry anyway, so I approached them and started slicing the cheese for everyone.
"You were at the library earlier" said the Dunmer.
I didn't notice when, exactly, they had all raised their heads and began staring at me.
"Shit, you caught me. Please don't report me to Mirabelle." I replied, blushing a bit more sincerely than I'd have liked. Hopefully appealing to her female complicity would work – although Marcurio didn't think so, judging from his face.
"I won't. But I don't think she'd mind, either. If you wish to learn, there's no need to be ashamed of it. We can help you, too." She said. She probably meant to be welcoming, but I felt a bit like I was an object of charity. Oh, little Sira, if you're so hungry, feel free to pick up some leftovers after supper… I had forgotten that feeling.
I stared at Marcurio. He was supposed to be my Thane, after all. He could send me away. He didn't.
Instead, Odmund intervened.
"If you could choose one spell you'd like to do, which one would it be, by the way?"
Ah, this kid knows shame all too well. Divines bless him. I thought of Esbern, that soft grandpa who could kill Thalmor justiciars with the same ease Aela or Farkas would dispose of common bandits.
"An Atronach, definitely. They seem like a life-saver."
"Interesting. So you'd use magic to watch your back, then. Frost or flame?"
"Flame."
"You didn't even stop to think about it."
"I like fire better. Almost everyone here is too comfortable with cold anyway."
Marcurio didn't handle being outstaged from his Paladin's attention, clearly, because he immediately intervened.
"I really shouldn't let you be so lazy all day. Starting tomorrow you'll come with us to Conjuration practice. You'll see, your atronach will be deadly."
What sick game is he playing at? I can still beat him to a pulp!
"Thanks, I guess." I said, patting him on the shoulder.
Fredas, 1st of Second Seed, 4E 202
Dear Sira:
Erik the Slayer is living up to his name at last! A slight recklessness of Njada's behalf, which could've ended up badly for both of them, ended up on 8 dead bandits and a lot of skooma confiscated. Should I congratulate him on your behalf? I know he'd appreciate it.
Jobs and assignments abound still, of course. We need one or two more members, I think, but I feel the others are not taking the issue seriously enough. They're all too happy to have jobs to choose from, but then some just don't get done. What do you think of offering a 200-septim reward to the next Companion who brings a new recruit? The whelps love some competition, and would boost morale.
Amren asked about you and sends you a deep hug. I trust you're not doing anything dishonourable? everything is fine with his family. Aela apologizes for not writing back, her shoulder is sprained and she's been banned from using her left arm for two weeks (as if we weren't short-staffed already!). She threatens to harm me if I don't tell you to write to her again. Send my regards to the Mage too, please don't drive him mad.
Come home soon.
Sincerely,
Vilkas
Turdas, 5th of Second Seed
My dearest Aela:
Apparently part of the problems around can be blamed on the fact that Jarl Korir has a completely useless steward. When I say useless, I mean proud of the fact that he does nothing. For some reason, everyone at the Longhouse has assumed him to be a powerful mage with links to the College, but I asked around and nobody knows him, so he just sits at the inn and drinks all day.
He's quite generous when buying you dinner.
Also, tell Vilkas he's an asshole for suggesting I had an inappropriate relationship with Amren (he should learn to blot lines properly!) and that I miss him.
My pet mage grows more and more impressive, today he awed everyone with his recitation of all the types of draugr and their special abilities. And guess who gave him all that information? Yours truly, who is not completely illiterate.
The milkdrinkers grow on me, mate. There's a Dunmer girl called Brelyna who is an absolute sweetheart, once she stops stuttering. She's a member of House Telvanni, by the way, in case Athis wants to come visit. Also, the building's resident Nord, Onmund alias the Paladin (who is also available, but don't tell Marcurio I said that), came to me the other day to ask me to retrieve a family heirloom from some other altmer student, who seems to be a fence in addition to an asshole. Laugh if you will, but it felt good to be recognised as the expert on something, even if that something is beating people up.
I miss you like crazy.
Lots of love,
Sira
Sundas, 17th of Second Seed, 4E 202
My real and only Harbinger,
Athis says he couldn't care less about the slaver Telvannis or whatever is left of them. He also asked about Brelyna's chest size, because males are scum, whether men or mer.
The gift package arrived well. Njada is very impressed with her Block Bracers, but I think Farkas doesn't trust the greatsword and may have sold it. My Bow of Fire is canny, I had never thought the College as a source of anything useful. Can't wait to test it on a spriggan!
Farkas has taken the assignment of hunting butterflies very seriously, as you can see. He misses you, especially now that his meaner half is too busy being boss. (What were you thinking!? He'll drive me mad one of these days).
Erik is now after Ria, at last. I could've killed him too.
Met a Breton poacher the other day. He can clearly do better with his life, so I'll have him win me the recruitment prize, you'll see. He rocks the axe.
Please don't let the mages brainwash you.
Hugs,
Aela.
Everyone was excited about Saarthal. Even I was, after hearing about for over two weeks. Old Nordic tombs and barrows were nothing new to me (half my fortune came from them, after all), and not even to Marcurio (who was already an expert on everything, as far as he was concerned).
There was, however, something special expected of Saarthal, if at least just because it was in the middle of such a frozen wasteland that everything was expected to be untouched. Tolfdir, possibly the only one among the professors who was determined to treat me like another student, had insisted I come – I figured at the very least, my experience fighting draugr would be useful. The mages all claimed to be able to defend themselves without a sword, but very few specialised in Destruction magic, and they were still too skinny and indoorsy for me to take their word for them.
The initial schedule said we would divide the dig in areas, each to be tackled by a different group of students. In between dusting, classifying, counting, and researching, the project should take a week, Tolfdir said, but if their usual pace was any indication, it was likely going to last a month.
By then, Marcurio better be on good enough terms to get me a lead on that stupid Kel.
Sundas, 24th of Second Seed, 4E 202
Vilkas:
The ruse is out.
We were heading to a nearby dig in Saarthal, which is out there in the middle of the ice, and we got attacked by a frost dragon. It's not like the entire College saw me devour its soul – maybe two thirds?
I would call on you to come pick me up from this odd place and take me home, but don't you dare! For what it's worth, I am now a student in full right. I'm keeping Marcurio around, though, he's nice to look at.
Tomorrow I'm barging back into the library and demanding information on the Elder Scroll. I'll threaten to shout them all to death if they don't listen to me.
Of course, if you want to come here and just say hi, feel welcome. I miss you all.
Regards,
Sira.