AN: This chapter serves as the first of the actual chapters, where one might describe the previous work as an extended prologue. There's a rather violent acceleration of pace, which I hope will provide us with some impetus and prevent the narrative from dragging. Let me know what you think, as pacing is always important.

I don't like pulling people out of the story, and I dislike works that provide maps along with them for reasons of narrative purity, however many places are referred to here so you may find it useful. As with previous chapters, I'm attempting to establish a number of things which I will later build on.

This one only took like two weeks, most of which wasn't writing time. I should like it to be weekly updates of at least 4k, which I think is doable. I'll have to see what sort of chapters I'm writing though given some are obviously going to be shorter than others. If you have any thoughts on this feel free to share them.

-x-

Weeks passed quite quickly after Harald's arrival in Wayrest, soon turning into months.

He saw little of the city itself except for the area immediately around the square with the broken wall and Master Vinothren's house. But within the house the boy settled easily into the existing routine. His master would rise at dawn and spend an hour or so grooming himself. The Argonians (which by now Harald had just about learnt to tell apart) brought up buckets of hot water for the elf to bathe in and later to shave and attend to his beard (upon which the elf lavished great effort). After this Master Vinothren would go downstairs to the lowest level and break his fast, usually on food much similar to that which they'd eaten at the inn, comprising mostly of fruit, some honey, cheese and bread. Occasionally he would order food be cooked and the Argonians would lay on eggs and bacon or sausages which sizzled away over a stove.

Harald, often woken by the tapping of the Argonian's claws on the stairs as they went about their business, would leave his room and join Master Vinothren to eat and even over the small matters they discussed he learnt much. He would ask the elf about his plans for the day and was never disappointed by Master Vinothren's explanations, for he dearly wished to learn more about the wide world, having now realised his ignorance when compared with Master Vinothren's great knowledge of far off places as well as heroes and adventures of long ago.

The breakfast prepared him for the day and was always excellent and very filling, and prepared both guardian and ward for the day. Most mornings they would go up to Master Vinothren's study and as they had on the first day, Master Vinothren would sit with his back to the window and Harald on the wooden stool opposite him. They would speak of many things, or rather Master Vinothren would, and Harald would listen. The elf would tell him stories and Harald would dutifully commit them to memory, resolving every character, place or magical artefact of the tales, and particularly enjoying those stories Master Vinothren knew of his father's people, stories of Atmora and Ysgramor, or of the Talos Wars and the Brass God, striding across the land with its lord standing on its shoulder. Master Vinothren told of how the great Dwemer machine roared into the Blue Divide between Tamriel and the Summerset Isles, marching to the ruin of the elves, smashing through their magical barriers and striking the Harmonium Fortress from its perch on the cliffs of Isque, the sea boiling at its rage.

He learnt rapidly, or so Master Vinothren said. Harald did not disagree, but it felt less like learning and more like remembering. In any case, under Master Vinothren's tutelage he swiftly began to learn his letters in the Bretic tongue common across the Illiac Bay. However, Master Vinothren also began his instruction in Elvish, both the reading and writing of it, but also in the speaking, as he had wanted to better understand Master Vinothren and the Argonians when they conversed.

The mornings therefore went by with great speed and with each one Harald increased his knowledge. They would finish with a meal, and Master Vinothren would depart to the Waterfall Plaza, as Harald had begun to call it, to the great amusement of his master. He had accompanied the elf a few times on these journeys out, going to the office Master Vinothren kept at the square. Sometimes they would travel by the great axial road between the ruined palace and the square, other times, for reasons unknown to Harald, they would walk by narrower roads and emerge behind the office.

Like their house, Master Vinothren's office was full of Argonians. Cassius, the most distinctive of them with his red crest, was there often and Master Vinothren had set him to guard Harald, who had wanted to explore the square and surroundings. He'd never gone far but always returned with questions for Master Vinothren as they walked home. Other times he would pester Corentin, a rather nervous Breton in service to Master Vinothren as a clerk. While Master Vinothren predominantly saw to the many ledgers and books of commerce that the elf kept for his business, Corentin made the specific arrangements and saw to the collection of goods from the ships and their entry into several warehouses in dockyard districts.

However, Harald had yet to fully understand what it was that Master Vinothren did. While he certainly brought and sold goods at the docks, and kept ledgers of these activities that Harald had seen him pouring over, the elf also frequently mentioned meetings with a number of the merchant princes of the city. Master Vinothren and Corentin would discuss at length the affairs and requirements of one lord or another, sending Cassius out to deliver messages. When he'd asked his master regarding this he'd had a most unsatisfactory explanation including a number of words he'd yet to fully understand. Master Vinothren was, the elf explained, some sort of agent, which supposedly comprised a similar relationship between Master Vinothren and several of the city's merchants as there was between Master Vinothren and Harald himself. Truthfully, the boy understood little of it, a source of great frustration to him.

Indeed, it was due to his lack of understand and ignorance that Harald pushed himself further to divine whatever meanings the strange letters held in the many books of the house. When he wasn't out exploring the streets around he would pester Cassius or one of the others to teach him, or to at least read one or two of the words he hadn't yet learnt. The Argonians were happy to oblige him, though invariably they had their own duties to attend to, but Harald still learnt well, even if their sibilant speech was difficult to understand when spoken by an alien mouth. Steadily though he felt less and less ashamed whenever he failed to understand something Master Vinothren said, and even the maps had become easier to remember for him, invariably because Master Vinothren illustrated some historical journey or the movement of an army between two cities.

When he was left alone, he would gaze at the maps, tracing his fingers along their coastlines. It was very strange to him that only a short time ago he had no conception of the wide world and his place in it, yet now he was able to track his journey from Alcaire down the King's Road and eventually to Wayrest the Great. He could see the different regions of Stormhaven, as well as the kingdoms that surrounded it, and was quite surprised at the size of different places that he'd heard of, both in stories and in the teachings of Master Vinothren. Wayrest sat at the base of the peninsula of High Rock, which, he was told by his master, was properly called 'the' High Rock. Where the province sat as if the sleeve of a shirt, the city was the seam connecting it to the rest of the cloth, serving as the largest city, though not perhaps the greatest storied.

And it was with stories that Harald travelled beyond his room. Where the walls were bare he hung the maps Master Vinothren had given him, and he brought small stones and bits of broken tiles to serve as markers. Larger rocks were cities, smaller ones armies and sometimes ships in a fleet, with one rock which looked like a horse's head always being the mighty lord on a great horse who would come and besiege whatever evil lay within.

Master Vinothren found him at it one day, stones spread out all across his room's floor. The elf had laughed and when he'd finished he sat down and played at being a general. He took one side of the stones and Harald the other and they fought with blocks of knights and footmen, all just lumps of stone. Later his master had begun to teach him mathematics, and in the beginning, Harald hadn't even known it was happening. Master Vinothren would ask how many companies were represented in an army, and if there were such a number in one company and a different number in another, at what number would they stand if they combined under one captain? Thus, Harald began to learn many of the high arts that Master Vinothren had promised to teach him at the same time. Harald heard of Sir Byric and the Knights of the Flame, once the knights of his own home, Alcaire. Sir Byric had burned the fields to chase away the Reachmen, and had ridden through the flames, his lance couched, striking through the invaders. Master Vinothren's question about him to Harald had been the specifics of Byric's formation. If the knight's formation grew thicker by two men each row, how many would Harald find in the 12th row?

Harald had given three wrong answers to that, and though Master Vinothren told him his errors were of little consequence, Harald knew he must be disappointed. Later he used the collected rocks to work it out, the horsehead stone representing Sir Byric. He didn't have enough for the whole formation but he managed it eventually by marshalling the rocks in smaller numbers, where every stone was three men instead of one.

It grated at Harald's patience that he was continually behind, or he seemed so at least. Master Vinothren had no harsh words for him, and in fact would smile and nod during their discussions, telling the boy he was doing well. The elf's words always cheered him, but never so much as when Master Vinothren would tell him some short story of his father. Master Vinothren explained how Harald's grandfather Magnus had learnt Sir Byric's story first, and related to his son, who in turn told Master Vinothren. When Harald sat and heard the story from Master Vinothren it was as if it was his father telling him, not the elf.

Each mention of his family aroused strange emotions in Harald. At once he felt both happy and sad, welcoming any news of how his fathers had lived or who they had fought, yet also being overcome with a great melancholy, a loneliness and a longing for a familiar embrace or a kind word that Master Vinothren seemed not quite to fill. This feeling came most whenever it rained, for in the rain Harald thought he heard the sea, its crashing waves and the cries of the gulls as they danced on the wind. He remembered how excited he'd been as they approached the city to see the sea, so witness that which had carried his father's into war and fury. At night in particular Harald could hear it, a low roar, not a crash but a murmur of water over the sand. It would reach him, passing over the city and through the streets, drifting through the night air and bringing with it the salt smell that he'd now become familiar with. Sometimes he would wake from dreaming and stand by the window, shutters open, looking out at the stars and imagining that he stood on a ship with his fathers.

Harald voiced this want one day while they broke their fast. That morning it was fried eggs, tomatoes and slices of a sort of root which Master Vinothren had not named. The elf was in fine mood and ordered mustard to the table, which Harald took with suspicion as he'd previously eaten too much of it at once on a different morning and felt like he'd eaten a coal from the fire.

"Certainly, you might come to the docks." Master Vinothren had said, "But you wouldn't see much from there. Just the other side of the city. From any point within the walls, even if you were to stand at the top of the Cathedral's steeple or the highest tower of the castle, you'd just see a very wide river."

"Not the sea?" Harald asked in confusion.

"What is the difference between a sea and a lake?" Master Vinothren asked him. "The Bjoulsae flows out of Lake Halcyon, fed by the meltwater off the Druadachs. It joins the Wind River, in turn fed by the Wrothgarians peaks and they both flow into the Illiac. Just like Lake Halcyon, the Illiac is hemmed in and forms one continuous body of water, separated by eternal law from other seas. The Illiac Bay is a sea because its taste is bitter and salt. Just like the Eltheric Ocean beyond Dagger Rock. At all large meeting points between seas and rivers there exist lines, clearly visible where the river becomes the sea. They stand apart as if a wall between them. It is truly a miracle." he saw Harald's frown plain on his face. "You will see this later. For now, you may come with me today. I am meeting with several of my captains regarding an expansion toward the northern ports."

Harald thought quickly, "Koeglin?" thinking of the only significant port on this side of the High Rock.

Master Vinothren beamed, "Yes indeed! Now I'll be very impressed if you can tell me why?"

Harald thought some more. Koeglin had been one of the routes Master Vinothren had considered when they rode down from Alcaire. From his study of the maps he knew it saw as far north as you could sail without simply sailing around the whole of the province. He looked up, "You said sea travel was faster than land."

"It is," replied Master Vinothren with a small smile, "Most of the time. It takes about a month to get from Solitude, the most western port of Skyrim, to here. That's by ship, and by a good ship. There are many hazards though, not least of which is Shipwreck Cove, which one of the many places whose names need no explanation. If I can get goods upriver from Northpoint then I can have them on barges through Rivenspire and they would only need to come by land till they can join the River Alcaire. If I can dispatch ships from Koeglin I can remove a week from the journey." the elf sat back. "The main problem is arranging it all. A ship's captain can depart Solitude's dock with a hold full of cargo and be largely unmolested as he travels, Northpoint might charge if he stops there, and there's always dangers of pirates, but he's his own master and can travel well enough on his own without anyone needing to be aiding him. If my ships travel on land instead there's a whole host of necessaries, from caravan guards against Orcs and witchmen to the fodder for oxen. On the other hand, ox-drivers would only pay the charges of the King of Shornhelm, and nothing at all in Wayrest because I live here. At the moment the Kings of Daggerfall and Sentinel charge a double toll to any merchant of Wayrest passing Dagger Rock."

Master Vinothren mused to himself for a little while longer as he finished off the last of the food. Shortly after they set off towards the river, with Harald again taking in every sight he could. They were a party of four, Master Vinothren, Harald, Corentin and Cassius. The elf led them, walking with an easy stride along the middle of the road. The sun was bright and hot, but Harald, far less extravagantly dressed compared with his master, had a straw hat to keep it off his head. As he understood it the country of Morrowind was also very hot, hot enough for fire to leap from the ground in any case. Harald thought that was likely where Master Vinothren's resistance to heat came from, for though he wore a heavy doublet embroidered with dark thread he seemed not to sweat. His boots like his clothes were a deep burgundy and they too looked thick and hot, but Harald knew they were well made. Comparably Corentin wore a lighter tunic, also worked with thread into patterns, but with less elegance than Master Vinothren's. He also wore a longer shirt on underneath and a knotted belt. Cassius wore even less, with only a loose shirt and a leather waistcoat about his broad shoulders. His hose was much the same make as Corentin's, though much wider because of the shape of his legs and coming to an end above his clawed feet which clicked quietly as they walked.

All together they made a curious group as they arrived at the docks, but once there the distinctiveness of Master Vinothren's clothes and of his attendant Argonian was less apparent, because of the great profusion of different people going about. Whereas near their home the people were mostly pale and employed in crafting various things and in other trades, toward the docks many of them were darker in aspect, with Redguards and Imperials being more common. At first Harald didn't notice this, but rather saw the difference in the clothes of the groups. Where the Bretons for the most part wore layered clothes and rarely adorned them with rich colours or patterns, these men nearer the water wore long elaborate tunics and wide trousers, with few wearing any sort of shoe. Both men and women wore jewellery, and for the most part it could be seen in their ears rather than on their fingers or around their necks as the Bretons did. He looked up at Corentin and asked about it.

"Wayrest is home to people from all across the world." Replied the man, "Do you think Master Vinothren would dress as he is now if he were back in Morrowind? You must ask him later if he's, or should I say if he was, Hlaalu. They were always the most friendly to Men, it is said."

Soon they came to a large brick building with many windows. Within there were lines and lines of shelves with a variety of barrels and large boxes. On one side Harald saw a few dozen amphora, similar to one he'd seen in the kitchen at home in one of the cupboards. A group of men were waiting within. For the most part they had the pale countenance of Bretons, but like the city itself, there was a significant proportion of them from other lands. As Master Vinothren approached they took off their hats or touched their foreheads in deference, bowing slightly.

"My friends!" said Master Vinothren grandly, "I am pleased that we may meet." He touched Harald's shoulder and brought him forward, "Here is my ward Harald, the son of Red Robert."

This time the men bowed to Harald, but soon they were in conference with Master Vinothren and followed him deeper into the warehouse, Corentin following on their heels, juggling several ledgers he'd been carrying in his satchel.

Harald, supervised by Cassius, was left to his own devices. He wandered about, looking in any box he could get the lid off. He considered going to the amphoras, but he was also lacking any means to break away their seals without damaging them.

On one shelf he found crates with bolts of cloth, mostly wool, and also a number of strange wooden objects about three feet in length he could see no obvious use for but were no doubt valuable for some purpose which had been stacked against the wall. On another shelf, a series of smaller wooden boxes, all of which had belts around them holding them shut. Carefully Harald brought one down and sat on the floor with it, fumbling at the buckle and eventually undoing it enough to get the box open. Inside there were scarlet rocks, incredibly red, as if crystal fire.

"Be careful with that Young Master." Said Cassius, coming close and crouching down next to him. "Do not touch it."

"What are they?" Harald asked, for they were very beautiful.

The Argonian made that strange undulating noise that seemed to mean several different things depending on the circumstance, Harald had yet to work out which, and touched one of the crystals with a claw. "This one does not know the name in this language, but in the High Tongue they are Embrothian Stones."

"What do they do?"

Cassius nudged one crystal to the side and drew his claw along the seam of the box, collecting a small amount of red sand underneath his nail. He picked it out with another claw, and then with a violent twitch of the hand he flicked it into the centre of the hall, where it erupted in a shower of sparks and hissing.

Harald started back with a cry, almost dropping the now dangerous box as he flinched. He looked down and immediately closed the lid, fastening it tight with the belt and putting it back on the shelf. After that he kept away from that side of the room, and didn't even try to touch the rest of the crates on the other shelves, instead going out the doors and sitting in the doorway.

"This one knows they have uses in reagents and by wizards." Said Cassius, coming up behind him and leaning against the wall.

Harald sat, recovering from the surprise and watched the people pass in the street for a time. Soon though voices could be heard behind them and Master Vinothren and Corentin came up again, having finished their discussions with the captains.

Where Cassius had thrown the dust and it had flared up the elf stopped, sniffing at the air. "What is that?" he asked himself.

Harald got up "I found it in there, Cassius threw some to show me what it was."

"What's this?" Corentin said, agitated, "You found it here? Embrothia?"

"Yes in the box." Replied Harald and he pointed to the shelf.

Master Vinothren's face grew rather pale and he turned to Cassius, speaking too swiftly to him in Elvish for Harald to understand more than a word in ten. Cassius replied with hisses and took one of the boxes, demonstrating what Harald had done in taking off the belt securing it closed and showing the two the crystals within. Then Master Vinothren spoke again to Corentin, still in the rapid Elvish that he fell back on whenever he was in haste. Corentin nodded through the discussion, and then went off walking swiftly back into the warehouse.

Harald was quickly ushered outside. "You did very well Harald." Master Vinothren said to him.

"I did?" he asked.

"Indeed, Embrothia is exceptionally dangerous. It shouldn't have been stored like that." The elf took off his hat and smoothed a few hairs back into place. "Even sunlight can set it off. Corentin is going to find out why it was stored thus and make sure it never happens again." Master Vinothren breathed out slowly in a sigh of relief, "Well, at least you found it when you did rather than in a week when it would have broken down."

"Cassius said the wizards use it. Are you selling it to them?"

"By the Nine no!" laughed the elf, "Never trust a mage with anything remotely volatile. I heard once a Chironasium burned down when Infernacian crystals like those were improperly prepared. No, I import them from Solthsteim and sell them to smiths."

"For their forges?" Harald realised.

"Yes indeed, well done my boy." Said Master Vinothren with a smile. "The crystals are mixed with iron filings and salt water and left for several months, then evaporated, leaving only an infused salt that burns with exceptional heat and regularity. It's very useful for use in forges to get higher temperatures that are easy to maintain. However, speaking of salt, I believe I promised you a look at the sea?"

Harald eagerly nodded, all fear at the exploding crystals forgotten and they walked south to the harbour. Along a wall they went, further toward the shore, the salt taste strong in the air. Harald hadn't noticed by the sun had started to set. Like the crystals in the box it shone red like fire, lighting the street and houses around them so that the brickwork blazed as if fresh from the kiln.

Master Vinothren led Harald through smaller alleys and finally they somehow emerged out of the city. Harald had lost sight of the wall as they'd travelled through the streets, and he supposed they must have crossed it somewhere. Perhaps like back at home, here the people had torn parts of the wall down for the stones.

"A little bit further." Said Master Vinothren, "Look, here is the sea wall."

And indeed Harald saw green stones rising up above the houses, which here were rather small and squat. Before the wall there were large boulders, curving out into the great Bjoulsae. Master Vinothren took him under the arms and lifted him easily onto the stone, and then himself took a different route.

"Come, follow me and tread where I do." The elf said, and set off, clambering over the stones. Harald followed, climbing or throwing himself up the sides of the stones his master with his longer legs could merely step over. Everywhere there seemed to be green algae which proved treacherous when Harald tried to take a different route from Master Vinothren, as he slipped and grazed his knee after stepping on a patch of the stuff and finding no purchase there.

Eventually though he could hear the rush of waves on the other side of the rocks, and Master Vinothren climbed to the top of one large stone, ascending out of the gully they'd been walking along between the rock wall and the proper harbour stones. Not without a graze and a bump to his elbow Harald followed him up, with the elf lifting him the final stretch, easily bearing Harald's weight on one arm as he pulled the boy up.

A blaze of light greeted him as he stood with Master Vinothren above the water. A thousand crests, each one shod in gold, as if the hooves of a thousand noble horses prancing across a silver field. The sun broke over the waves as the waves themselves broke into white foam, crashing over the rocks further along the sea wall and spraying between them with a wash of water. As far as he could see the Illiac Bay stretched off into the distance. He couldn't see Hammerfell which he knew sat on the other side of the Bjoulsae but he saw many ships coming from all places. The cogs and cargo-bearers like cows of the sea coming filled with spices and cloth destined for warehouses like Master Vinothren's, escorted by the sleek galleys of the royal fleet, their lion standards shining in the sun, gold on blue.

"What hand drives the oar?

What sword comes from your depths?

Men who stride the whale-road,

And gods who watch their steps..."

The words were softly spoken, yet they pulled at Harald's soul. He looked up.

"Magnus loved the sea." Said Master Vinothren, staring out at the sunset. "He would go out sailing, even in storms. He never fell from the ship, and whenever he was at the tiller the waves would break before him and lift the whole ships as if they wanted to carry him."

Harald saw one ship, a small fisherman's boat with a single sail, just coming in, one man at the rear hauling in the last of a line.

"He spoke those words as he sailed to the relief of Falinesti." Continued Master Vinothren, "They fought a great battle with the Altmer at the city's Harbour-Gate, I heard them say that the Imperial ships had to be overturned for cover against darts and magic from the city, and that when they attacked they bore their longboats above their heads to shield themselves. "

"I thought my grandfather killed a prince of that city?" asked Harald, remembering that dark room and the bright mail on a stand.

"He did." Said Master Vinothren, "It was a complicated time."

Harald smiled as he stood there, looking out to sea, thinking again of his fathers. He felt Master Vinothren's hand on his shoulder and smiled. It had been a good day.