"Colette, I was hoping I would catch you," said Queen Mirtil as she opened the door to Colette's quarters.
"It's Arch-Mage now," Colette responded with a dead pan seriousness to which both women responded with a bout of laughter.
"What are all these?" Mirtil asked as she sat in a chair. Colette was seated in front of a dying fire, and surrounding her were dozens of gifts and trinkets.
"People wanted to show me their support, I guess. I've been receiving them all day. Honestly, I've never felt so appreciated."
"Is there anything in here that might make this conversation less formal?" Mirtil asked, casting her eye on a sparkling silver necklace. Colette brightened and rummaged through some gifts that were spread across a table. Finally, she pulled out a deep red bottle.
"Faralda gave Fornice a bottle just like this when she was named Arch-Mage. An aged red from Summerset Isle." Colette uncorked the bottle but took a brief moment of thought before pouring the contents into two crystal goblets. "I still find it hard to believe that both of those women are dead," she said quietly.
"I supported you fully to become Arch-Mage, because I saw in you what I saw in Fornice. Compassion. If I could bring her back, I would, but I rest easier knowing that you will not let her down," Mirtil said, sipping from her goblet.
"And Faralda. I found her body today, but it feels like a lifetime ago. If she were alive, you would be congratulating her right now."
"If she were alive, I would be pulling my soldiers out of Labyrinthian."
"Excuse me?"
Mirtil put down her goblet and leaned forward. "I told Jarl Korir that if you did not become Arch-Mage then I could not support him. I would not be able to trust anyone but you."
"You could have told me," Colette said after a pause.
"I did not think you needed the pressure, and Jarl Korir could not be seen as weak to give in to my demands." Colette nodded slowly and looked down. Mirtil took another sip of wine. "Summerset Isle did you say? Where is that?"
"Far to the south. It's home to the High Elves or Altmer such as Faralda."
"Ah, I know of that place. It is where the Ayleids first came from before settling Cyrodiil."
"What was the status of the Ayleids when you last had contact with the outside world?"
"Scattered and broken. The Imperials had pushed them out of Cyrodiil much like the Nords pushed my people out of Skyrim. They managed to gain some footholds in Valenwood, and last I heard they were rivalling the Bosmer for power there. What state are they in now?" Mirtil asked, pouring herself another glass. She liked the wine very much.
"Gone. If I'm correct, the last sighting of an Ayleid was over 1000 years ago, and that's the first I've heard of Ayleids fighting the Bosmer in Valenwood. Most assume they were simply assimilated back into Aldmeri culture."
"Oh, that is sad to hear. Their demise came earlier than that of the Falmers, and we saw some of their notable figures as heroes. They had been driven out of their home and were trying to set themselves up elsewhere, just like us. It seems we both suffered the same fate."
"But you have returned, perhaps they can too," Colette said reassuringly. "Empires rise and fall, but Empires can return. Take a look at the current one for example."
"The current one?" Mirtil asked, suddenly looking very confused.
"You mean to say you know nothing about the political state of Tamriel?"
"Elisif is the High Queen of Skyrim, and Skyrim itself is split into 9 holds each with its own Jarl-"
"Skyrim isn't Tamriel. There is a lot more going on outside this war. Um... I'll explain what I can," Colette said, and from the pile of gifts she pulled out and unfurled a beautifully coloured and detailed map of Tamriel.
"I don't recognise half those names," Mirtil admitted after scanning the map.
"I'll start with the Empires. Currently, there are two of them. The Empire encompasses Cyrodiil, Skyrim and High Rock," she said pointing to the respective provinces. "The heart of the Empire, where the Emperor Titus Mede III reigns, is here in the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. "
"The Alessian Empire has expanded much since I last had contact above ground," Mirtil said thoroughly impressed. Colette smiled at her and shook her head.
"200 years ago, the Empire stretched across all 9 provinces. The whole of Tamriel bowed to one ruler."
"What has happened since?"
"The Septim dynasty ended, Black Marsh seceded, Red Mountain erupted and the Thalmor came. They took over Summerset Isle and set up the Second Aldmeri Dominion. It encompasses Summerset Isle, Valenwood and Elsweyr and is the second Empire on Tamriel. There was a war between the Dominion and the Empire called the Great War, and though the Empire won it was at a great cost. Hammerfell was thrown from the Empire, and the Stormcloak Rebellion here in Skyrim was a direct result of the war," Colette said, brushing over the golds and greens of the Dominion provinces.
"What of the others? What Empire do they bow to?"
"None. Hammerfell resisted Aldmeri occupation and remains its own kingdom. Black Marsh seceded long ago and has since claimed much of Morrowind in a bloody uprising. The Dunmer of Morrowind once again bow to no one, but they are a desperate people. Skyrim gave them the island of Solstheim for the refugees fleeing the destruction of Red Mountain and the war with the Argonians."
"Tamriel is a terrible place," Mirtil said sadly.
"And it always will be, but we're looking to make it that bit better."
Mirtil smiled and rose from her chair. "Thank you, Colette, and once again congratulations, but I best turn in."
"Goodnight, Queen Mirtil. May I suggest you read up on some history when you have the chance."
Mirtil bowed her head in acknowledgement and left.
The next day dawned with a flurry of snow which only got worse as the sun rose higher into the sky. By noon, the streets were constantly being cleared by teams of men with shovels, and as soon as a street was cleared, the end they started on had already gathered a foot of snow. The snow wasn't just an inconvenience, but it threatened the safety of everyone in Labyrinthian.
"Jarl Korir, this damned snow is making it impossible to hunt for food," Irontooth said as he walked onto the covered balcony that Korir was sitting on with Brina Merilis. "The hunters only just returned hauling half a dozen deer and twice as many rabbits. It's not enough to feed even a quarter of the people here."
"What's left in the storerooms?" Korir asked anxiously.
"Nothing but scraps, My Jarl."
"My people are already coming to me asking for aid. It hurts me that I can do nothing," said Brina, hanging her head.
"Send them out again. Now. Tell them not to return unless they can provide enough food for everyone," Korir said, rising from his chair.
"My Jarl, it's not the hunters fault. They did the best they could," Irontooth said.
"Then am I just supposed to accept the fact that we're all going to starve?" he roared.
"Did you not foresee this? What man marches to war without setting up a supply line?" Irontooth said hotly.
"How dare you speak to me like that. You will remember who you're talking to," Korir said with fire.
Irontooth blanched for a moment and glanced down. "I'm sorry, Jarl Korir. Things have been difficult what with Faralda-"
"I know, Irontooth, but you mustn't forget yourself. The food remains a problem. Send any man who knows how to hunt into the wilderness. Send the women to forage for plants, berries, anything they can find."
"Yes, My Jarl," Irontooth said. He bowed and left the room. Korir retook his seat.
"It still won't be enough," Brina said.
"I know, but it's something. They'll still go hungry, but gods willing they won't starve."
Colette sat behind the round table in the communal chamber with a beaming smile on her face. Her turned up nose and squashed features were particularly exaggerated then, but she did not care. She was Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. She was one of the most powerful women in all of Skyrim, and she did it through the most looked down upon School of Magic.
She eyed the people around her, and she was glad to have such companions. The fierce competition between them had died down, and they now accepted her authority. It was a somewhat nervous acceptance, but whatever opinion they had of her, they knew she was a good woman.
"We are gathered here to work out the final details of Colette's ascent to the position of Arch-Mage," Urag said in a gruff tone. Brelyna, Phinis and Drevis made up the last of those gathered. From a stall beside him, Urag pulled out an old oaken box and placed it on the table. Colette opened the box and pulled out its contents. "Here is the key to the Arch-Mage's quarters, your knew home. With it comes all the facilities within as well as the possessions of your predecessor, Arch-Mage Fornice, unless stated otherwise in a previously contracted will," Urag listed off. "Here is the key which opens the safe in the Arch-Mage's quarters. Within the safe you will find the key to the Vaults of the College of Winterhold. Usually, you would be presented with your chosen robes, however there was no time for such items to be made, but that can be sorted at a later date. The last thing that remains is for you to name your Master Wizard."
"Until his fate is decided, I name Tolfdir as my Master Wizard," Colette said confidently.
"About that," Phinis said suddenly. He flicked his wrist lazily, and a Dremora materialised by the table.
"A message from Onmund of the College of Winterhold to Phinis Gestor, Master of Conjuration at the College of Winterhold," the Dremora drawled. "Phinis, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Tolfdir passed away last night. Colette's healers, the Eight bless them, did all they could, but they could not save him. He was old, I suppose, and his body could not survive the wounds. I'm sorry, Phinis, but do send my congratulations to Arch-Mage Colette-" Phinis cut Onmund's message short by whisking the Dremora back to Oblivion.
"Then I must choose his successor," Colette sad sullenly. "I don't want any more death," she said half to herself.
Brelyna looked truly shaken at the news of Tolfdir's death, and Drevis put a reassuring hand on Brelyna's arm. She started to cry.
"Brelyna, do you need a moment?" Colette asked sympathetically. She nodded, rubbed her red eyes and ran from the room. A sob escaped her mouth.
"Tolfdir was like a father or a grandfather to her," Drevis explained. "He was the one who tutored her when she first came to the college back when Savos Aren was Arch-Mage. He was the one who inspired her to study Alteration."
"That old man was like a father to many of us. Most of us left our families when we came to the college, and he made sure to look after every student. I need to honour his memory in some way," said Colette.
"Then I have an idea," said Drevis.
Brelyna had run from the communal chambers straight into Irontooth. She bounced off his thick iron armour and looked up at him in a daze. "Oh," she said quietly.
"Are you all right, girl?" he asked kindly, noticing the tears still running down her cheeks. Brelyna said nothing. "You need some mead. Come with me," he said and put an arm around her.
Brelyna watched the snow fall onto the roofs of the squat huts below them as Irontooth kicked a thick blanket of it off the edge of one of the higher terraces. The now cleared black stone looked surreal against the white snow, but Brelyna barely noticed. She sat down and stared at the people below her. The market like every other day was busy as always, and the canvas canopies above the stands were covered in thick snow. People bustled along the black street, the road cleared by the never ending trudge of boots. Irontooth draped a thick wolf skin around her and handed her an uncorked bottle of mead.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, finally finding her voice.
"Because you showed me kindness when Faralda died. You're a good person, and good people deserve to be treated right," he said, pulling his own wolf skin tighter. White snow settled on it and his black dreadlocks. "What happened, Brelyna?" he asked softly.
"Tolfdir is dead."
"The Master Wizard? I'm sorry to hear that," he said out of politeness. He had never spoken to the man, but he could tell he had meant a lot to Brelyna.
"Outside Fort Kastav I had tried to save him. He was next to Arch-Mage Fornice when she died, and... I guess it was too much for him. He took two arrows to the back before I could get him to safety," she said in a dull monotone.
"You did all you could," Irontooth said.
"I-I think I know that, but it just means that I wasn't good enough to save him. I should have been better."
"What it means is that things happen which we can neither control nor change. Even if we could see all possible futures, we'd eventually have to pick one, and every path ends in death. This war has taught me that," he said, gazing out over the ruin.
"You have lost many who were dear?" she asked, looking up at him. Irontooth was a great deal taller and larger than her, but right then she saw none of that. She saw a man on the edge, and one wrong step would send him tumbling down. She vowed then to never let that happen.
"First it was my clan. I was a bandit chief back in the day, but Jarl Korir's company slaughtered them. They were terrible people, but they were my family. Then it was Captain Rolf. I served under him at Fort Fellhammer, and I respected him greatly. I got my first taste of honour from that man. Commander Jod cleaved his head from his shoulders, but I got my revenge. I caved Jod's head in with my hammer until there was nothing solid left."
Usually Brelyna would be sickened by such talk, but the war had changed her too. She revelled in such things as vengeance as its twisted roots dug deep into her heart. The soldiers of Windhelm would pay for Tolfdir's death.
"Then there was Faralda." He sighed heavily and uncorked himself a bottle of mead. Brelyna found hers to be empty and reached for another.
"You loved her," she said simply.
"Aye, lass, I loved her. Rolf taught me honour, but Faralda taught me how to be a man. A real man. I was willing to do anything to keep her safe. It was a burden, but it was of the best kind. I suppose I don't have to carry it any more."
There was a silence as Brelyna thought of Faralda. She wanted to say something, but compliments paid to the dead were always hollow, and so she just though. She thought of her red nails and auburn hair, her burning tongue, her almost incomprehensible grasp of Destruction, her passion in war and love. It was no wonder that she set Irontooth's heart aflame.
"She was fire," Brelyna whispered softly.
Irontooth looked down at Brelyna with a curious expression, but he suddenly smiled. "That might be the only certain thing about her. It's fitting really. She was consumed by the flames yesterday."
"Why was I not told?" Brelyna said with a hint of anger.
"I wasn't told either. For whatever reason, Jarl Korir saw it fit to burn her with the rest of the recent dead without ceremony. In truth I don't mind. A goodbye like that would have been too difficult."
Brelyna reminded herself of her vow to save Irontooth, and so all she did was nod and turn her head back to the ruin.
A warning horn. Someone was coming, and they weren't friendly. Jarl Korir scrambled down the twisting spiral steps of his tower and burst out into the snow, closely followed by Kai and Brina. Queen Mirtil and Lord Darin skidded to a stop next to him.
"What's happening?" Mirtil asked quietly. On top of the high black wall, men scrambled about picking up bows and readying themselves into siege positions.
"I don't know," said Jarl Korir with a deep frown. "But we need to find out."
The procession continued their way across the city, barging past confused and worried citizens and sidestepping platoons of soldiers marching to defend Labyrinthian.
They arrived at the gate just as Colette and her entourage of Phinis, Drevis and Urag did the same. Irontooth and Brelyna followed close behind. Korir stared at the gaping hole in the wall which the cobbled road ran through. No doubt the hole had at one time held a heavy and impregnable gate, but there was no such gate here now.
Hesitantly, the group walked through the archway and stopped at the top of a narrow set of stairs which ended at one end of a thin walkway. This pattern repeated itself with longer walkways and thicker steps right down to the base of the mountain, and it was there that they saw the army.
"That's no army, My Jarl," said Irontooth in a confused tone.
"No. It's not," replied Korir equally as perturbed. Two dozen men on horseback trotted slowly towards the first set of steps. Their red armour and shields showed them to be soldiers of Solitude, but their high red banners emblazoned with the black wolf of Solitude were interspersed with those of white linen.
"Do you think it's a trap?" Colette asked nervously.
"How? They've only got two dozen men. Mounted sure, but they know they'll be cut down before they reach us. Arch-Mage, unless there's an army hidden in the forest, we must assume it's peaceful," said Jarl Korir.
It was then that they noticed the wheelhouse. It was as large as any building and consisted of two stories dotted with red curtained windows. The dark wood creaked and groaned as the spoked wheels rattled over bumps in the road hidden under the snow. The dozen horses that pulled it were great shaggy beasts that looked like they ought to be on a farm, but Korir mused that to pull something that large they needed the strongest horses they could find.
The mounted soldiers moved aside so that the wheelhouse could pull up beside the steps, and the driver reigned the horses in to a stop. There was a flurry of movement as servants and footmen fell out of side doors and hastily laid down steps and rugs outside the main double door which was lined with brass and gold. Eventually, the servants scattered and a single footman remained on the steps and threw open the doors with a flourish.
"What is she doing here?" Colette spat. High Queen Elisif the Fair daintily stepped down from the wheelhouse with the help of her footman. Long red robes trailed behind her, and brown fur lined her collar and sleeves. A spindly golden crown rested on he head. A small serving girl draped a brown bear fur coat around her queen and scuttled off again.
Apart from stare up at them and sniff, Elisif did nothing.
"She won't come up here," said Brina, eyeing Elisif carefully. "We need to go down to her."
"Well, best not keep her waiting," said Korir and began the long descent.
The entourage finally reached the bottom of the steps. The going was tough due to the snow, but they had managed to keep their dignity by not falling over. Behind them a hastily gathered guard clad in blue marched, and amongst them were dotted the white Falmer. The mounted soldiers eyed the guard suspiciously and clutched tighter to their weapons.
"Jarl Korir," said Elisif in a singsong voice and a wide smile. Her eyes darted to the faces of his company. "My, you seem to have surrounded yourself with strangers. There's no one here that I recognise except your housecarl and-" Her smile and eyes widened. "Brina Merilis, I had not thought you to throw yourself in with this rabble."
"Myself and half of Dawnstar," Brina replied coldly.
"The other half seem to support me, however. I hope we won't have a civil war within a civil war."
"They only support you because they fear you'll slaughter them in their beds if they don't," spat Brina. Elisif's smile receded slightly. It was barely noticeable, but Brina smirked when she saw it.
"I could not murder someone in cold blood," Elisif said with all the innocence she could muster.
"Tell that to Medina and Jarl Skald."
"Enough of this," Jarl Korir said tensely. "Queen Elisif, why are you here?"
"Ah, thank you for reminding me. As surprising as this may be, I am here to offer peace. This war has been gruelling and tiring for the both of us, so here I am offering at the very least a temporary armistice."
There were mixed reactions throughout the group. Most was of concern or curiosity. Irontooth and Brelyna looked outraged, Colette looked hopeful, and Korir betrayed no emotion.
"What terms are you offering for this truce?" he asked.
"I have several terms, and I'm sure you'll have your own demands, but I don't wish to discuss it out here in the cold."
"We have some warmer buildings inside Labyrinthian," Korir said.
Elisif held up a hand. "There is no need. I have already made arrangements for the peace talks to happen within the Blue Palace in Solitude in two days time. The talks shall be under the guise of a grand ball, so do try to look your best," she paused to glance down at the tattered and dirty clothes and robes that the group wore. "However difficult that might be. The other Jarls have been notified by raven, but I thought I would deliver these invitations personally." She finished by pulling out several envelopes gilded in silver thread from her robe.
"Why didn't Jarl..." Korir began but trailed off in wide eyed fright at what he'd almost said.
"Why didn't Jarl Laila let you know? I'm sure she had her reasons. I'm well aware of the little alliance you two have formed, despite her best efforts to hide it from me."
Korir tried to hide his surprise with a question. "And why would I walk into the wolf's den so to speak?"
"Because you have no choice," Elisif said and raised a ringed hand. From the tree line trundled three carts overflowing with crisp vegetables, kegs of mead and all varieties of salted meats. "I know you have no supply line to this... place. You and your people must be starting to go hungry, and I have your salvation." She paused to let the words sink in, but she saw the mistrust in their eyes still. "Every noble man and woman in Skyrim and some from beyond will be at the Blue Palace. Their presence and my honour as a Nord will not allow me to betray my hospitality. It is a great crime to harm a guest under ones own roof."
Korir sighed deeply. "I have no choice but to accept your invitation. I would be no man of honour if I did not take every chance I got to save more bloodshed."
Elisif smiled gently. "Good. Now, this is for you," she said placing one of the invitations into Jarl Korir's hand. "For the Jarl of Winterhold. This one was to be for Arch-Mage Fornice, but – well, who represents the College of Winterhold now?"
"I do," said Colette stepping forward. She was several inches shorter than Elisif, but she still tried to be as intimidating as possible. "Colette Marence, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."
Elisif looked at her critically. She took in her dirty hair and robes, her squashed face and pushed up nose, but she also took in the defiance and perseverance and care in her deep brown eyes. The care was not for Elisif, the queen knew, but for almost everyone else there. "You don't quite make the impression Fornice did, but there is something about you," she said and deftly slipped her the invitation. "Now," she sad and tapped the last letter against her wrist. "This is for Queen Mirtil," she said. Mirtil stepped forward without a word, her eyes level with Elisif. She was dressed in thick white furs under which Elisif glimpsed shining silver mail. Yes, like the Altmer. Very much like the Altmer. In looks and pride, but I wonder does her pride turn to arrogance and folly as swiftly as theirs? "Queen Mirtil, it is an honour to finally meet you," Elisif said with a bow of her head.
"I bear you no love," Mirtil said in her lyrical voice.
"Nor do I expect you to, but I do not see you as an enemy yet. It is my understanding that you are only recently cured of your curse. May I ask how it was done?"
Mirtil said nothing but only turned her head to look at Colette. Elisif did the same and surprise jolted her.
"Old Restoration magics," Colette said as a simple explanation.
"It would be my honour to hear how that was accomplished, but I'm afraid I do not have time now." She addressed the entire congregation. "I must now head back to Solitude to prepare for your arrival. Jarl Korir, I hope beyond hope we can find peace."
"And I," he replied out of courtesy more than truth.
"And Queen Mirtil, it is my greatest privilege to meet the leader of such a proud and ancient people. I will be counting the hours until I can speak to you again." Mirtil bowed her head, and without another word Elisif climbed back into her wheelhouse. The fine silks and plush cushions disappeared behind closed doors.
Those gathered were silent as Elisif and her guards slowly drew away, leaving only the carts of food and dirty tracks in the snow.
Elisif pulled back a crimson curtain to peek at those she was leaving behind. A smile formed on her lips, and she let the curtain drop as she lay back on thick feather pillows. "Two days until everything falls into place."
"It's a trap," Irontooth growled once they were inside Jarl Korir's meeting room.
"It has to be," said Phinis.
"Regardless, we still have to go," said Jarl Korir, sitting heavily in a chair. The others took positions around the room. Some, including Colette and Mirtil, found other chairs, but most leant against walls or sat upon steps. The pane-less windows had let in some of the snow storm, and drifts of snow now piled up against the walls. "Every soldier and servant and footman was listening in out there, and Elisif was the paragon of courtesy. If we were to decline the invitation then those people will tell stories of how Winterhold declined the offer of peace when it was handed to them on a silver platter. Before long all of Skyrim will know us either as cowards or warmongers."
"And there's still a chance she might be genuine," said Colette, always looking to see the good in people.
"Then it's decided. We have to go," said Mirtil.
"Who exactly will be going?" asked Drevis. "Only those invited?"
Colette frowned and opened her invitation. The expensive paper smelt of roses, and silver thread weaved its way in and out to form a glittering border.
"To the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold.
You have been cordially invited to attend a ball at the Blue Palace on 24th of Last Seed. You will also have the privilege of being in attendance during the peace talks between the forces of Skyrim and Winterhold. You are permitted to bring three guests of your choosing.
Kind regards.
Falk Firebeard, steward to Elisif the Fair, Jarl of Solitude and Haafingar and High Queen to Skyrim."
Mirtil and Korir's letters said similar things to Colette's.
"All that remains now is to decide who we bring," said Korir. "This is a powerful weapon Elisif has given us. If we bring the right people then a victory there is more assured. Kai, I will need you for protection."
"Very good, My Jarl," replied the blonde Nord.
"Irontooth, I want you there to represent my military. An Orc amongst the nobility of Skyrim is likely to cause a stir as well."
"Yes, My Jarl."
"And Brina. You need to be at the Blue Palace donned with the Crown of The Pale that Faralda managed to retrieve from Dawnstar. Then you will make your demands to be Jarl of The Pale."
Brina smiled and inclined her head. "An excellent idea."
"I shall take two battlemages and Drevis. Fornice took one of your students to Solitude once before, and it was Illusion which got her and Jarl Korir out alive, so I want your magic on my side."
"Very good, Arch-Mage," Drevis said with a smug smile.
"Lord Darin, I will need you to stay here to look after my affairs. I suppose I shall just take a royal guard," said Mirtil.
"Why not take the giant?" Brelyna said lazily, only half paying attention. The room fell silent, and Mirtil and Korir cast each other a glance. Brelyna looked up at the sudden silence, and she saw the cogs turning in Mirtil's mind.
"What do you want? I'm up to my neck in sewing and mending, and what do I have to work with? Nothing. I've had to turn half the people away because I just don't have the material or time." The plump grey lady bustled about her little hut, trailing strips of cloth and ribbon behind her. Her grey hair stuck out from a messy bun, and her face was flushed red.
"I'm sorry, but this is important," said Colette timidly. She stood in the doorway of the tailor's hut and cast a look around at the half finished clothes.
The tailor stopped what she was doing and looked Colette up and down. "You'll be wanting those robes mended. Sorry, can't do it." She turned away
Colette looked down at her tattered plumb robes and back at the tailor. "They are a state, aren't they? But no that can wait. I'm the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold you see-"
"Oh! My lady, forgive my rudeness. I had no idea-"
Colette raised a hand and flashed a smile. "There's no need to apologise. You're doing a wonderful service for these people with what little you have, but I'm afraid I must ask a favour. I've been invited up to the Blue Palace, and I can't very well go in these. We leave tomorrow you see, and if you could fashion something – anything – I'd be very grateful."
The plump tailor whipped out a measuring tape from a fold in her apron and began to measure up Colette. "Don't expect a miracle, but I have a few things in mind. This is a wonderful opportunity for me, though. Never did I dream I'd be making something for the Blue Palace."
"If anyone compliments the outfit then I'll let them know who made it."
"Thank you, my lady," said the now much calmer tailor. "There that's all done. Come back tomorrow, and I'll have something for you. If you don't like it... well, here's to hoping you do."
"Peric, please don't do this," pleaded Onmund.
"I have to. I will not be known as a coward," Peric said whilst pulling on a pair of steel gauntlets.
"It should be me out there, not you. I was the one who broke his heart."
"And you wouldn't have done it if it weren't for me. He knows my part in all this, and he wants me to pay," said Peric with focus
"You could get hurt out there."
"So could he," Peric said and looked Onmund in the eyes. The two were very close together, and Onmund leaned in for a longing kiss. They remained that way for several minutes, but Peric finally had to pull away which induced a sigh from Onmund. "They'll be waiting," he said simply, pecked Onmund quickly and hurried from the room.
It was strange to see the arena from the inside. The raging crowds had made it seem like a grand event, but it was just a glorified brawling pit. The rough rope was all that stood between Peric and the spectators, but there was nothing that stood between him and Brannard. The blonde boy was armoured in his robes and steel gauntlets and boots much like Peric, but his was thick, dark Nordic steel whilst Peric's was of an intricate Imperial make. Both boys had steel daggers at their hips.
The bronzed Imperial announcer stood on a raised platform and told the crowd who the combatants were and the rules of the ring. Neither Peric nor Brannard were paying attention.
"The stakes," Brannard hissed. "I win and you never speak to me or Onmund again. You win and I'll do the same with you."
"Done," Peric spat back. There was a blast of a horn. The fight had started.
Brannard instantly conjured a flame atronach, and she relentlessly barraged Peric with firebolts. Peric on his part quickly brought up a shimmering blue ward which blocked the worst of the attacks. His main problem was that he was being attacked from two fronts. Brannard himself was launching spells at him, and Peric had to constantly swivel to make sure his ward blocked both assaults. A single wound or burn and it would be all over for him.
A pause in the assault gave Peric enough time to throw a calm spell at the flame atronach. He could feel his magicka dwindling, and he needed this to be over quickly. The spell hit the flame atronach straight in the chest, and she stumbled and faltered but resumed her spell barrage with increased vigour. Peric mentally slapped himself for forgetting that it takes great skill to make a Daedra succumb to Illusion spells. Skill he didn't have He faltered. It was all Brannard needed. A quick firebolt had Peric's arm on fire, and the Breton boy slammed his burning sleeve with his hand until the fire was out, but everyone could see the red blisters beginning to form. It was over. He had lost.