Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Other College
26th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Fredas
At the College of Winterhold, a large blast sounded from beneath the school. Icy dust rose into the air as the bridge shook. Stones fell and crashed to pieces in the waves below.
Another rumble and the people of Winterhold looked up from their chores. The dust gradually settled.
And then all was quiet again.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Evelyn stared blankly out at the horizon, watching smoke drift upward. Soon, the Sea Squall would be nothing more than ash in the ocean. She tilted her head to the side idly, noting that she had forgotten about the gun. Had it been tossed overboard, or gone down with the Sea Squall?
A little piece of Earth, lost before she could appreciate it.
She sighed. All that was left were her earbuds and dead phone. Both were useless. Incapable of doing anything.
Just like her.
She was trapped here and couldn't find a way out. She had plans to fix a few events, but could she, really? She definitely wasn't the Dragonborn.
Could I even do the job that the Daedra wants?
Did she want to?
The wind blew some seafoam onto the deck. She didn't move even as it soaked her from the waist down.
So what do I know...
The mystery Daedra uses blackmail. They likely dragged me here. They can speak directly but are choosing not to. They want me to do a quest for them, but won't say what.
Do they expect me to decline if I know the job?
Do they find it amusing to watch mortals run around in desperation?
Either case was not a good sign in her book.
She went back to stewing in her thoughts.
28th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202, Sundas, Two days later
Evelyn sighed as Solitude came into view. The video games were accurate enough in the general layout but, yet again, the sizes were completely off. At least thirty ships filled the port and there was still plenty of room for more. Dockworkers swarmed over a few of the larger ships, and with Imperial flags flying everywhere, more than a few of the sailors were uneasy.
She was less concerned at the sight of the warships. The Civil war was going to start soon, if it hadn't already, and both sides would be evenly matched enough for a stalemate.
Solitude won't be close to the fighting until the war is nearly over, and only if the Stormcloaks are going to win.
The most pressing matter in her mind was escaping the ship. She had sorted out exactly where her and Sergius' belongings had been stowed, and made sure that her trinkets were packed and ready to go.
All that was left was getting the ship into port.
She was enthusiastic - if not happy - to help get the ship docked as quickly as possible. Her jobs were mainly to run back and forth grabbing supplies and untie anything she was pointed at.
It was a well-known fact by then that any rope she messed with was liable to come untied, so the sailors decided to use her skills accordingly. Water-clogged knots coated with barnacles were no match for her determination and the little fire poker she had found, nonexistent arm strength be damned. Physics and leverage still existed, and she knew how to use them.
She was going to get off the ship as quickly as humanly possible.
Her hopes of a swift escape were dashed, however, when a group of imperial soldiers boarded the ship. They needed to check everyone and investigate their cargo, as the new ship didn't match any known incoming traffic - the perils of switching to a pirate ship mid-voyage. Evelyn sighed.
More customs.
It seems like some things are the same no matter where you are.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Later that day, an altmer walked into a bar.
It was a company-sponsored bar for the East Empire Company's more valuable clients, but a bar nonetheless. And most importantly to Viarmo - it was connected to the general records room. He sidled up to the bookkeeper at the front desk and, with a quick glance to be sure they were alone, pulled out a pouch.
"Hello, officer, would you mind informing me of the 785th record?"
A slide of gold on the counter and the man in east-empire robes nodded. He pulled out a thick book.
"Hmm... The 785th record is of the sinking of the Sea Squall following a pirate attack... If you're looking for the crew, though, they survived and commandeered the pirates' ship, which is the 786th record."
The altmer's eyes sharpened. "And which dock can I find the passengers at?" Another handful of coins made their way across the counter.
The officer shrugged, quickly scooping the coins into his coat. "The passengers?- Not at the docks. The mages were off the ship and out of sight as soon as we finished up customs. The scrawny one in particular was quite eager to run and rent a horse-drawn cart for their gear. They're long gone, but I might be able to remember where they went..."
The man trailed off, expecting another handful of coin. Viarmo smiled at him. The poor fool.
Well. He may as well fund further assistance.
He slid over a few coins and placed a hand on the imperial's shoulder. With a few well-placed words, he had the man spilling his life story, if in disjointed pieces. It was bland and drab and terribly paced, but Viarmo powered through the pain. Imperials enjoyed waxing poetic about their own lives and miseries (no matter how unexciting), after all, and the outcome was well-worth the cost.
The man would remember him as a friendly benefactor who did not ask much. And he had access to the comings and goings of the port.
A perfect addition to his network.
But before Viarmo further ingratiated himself to the man, he needed to get back to the bard's college and greet the mages. There was something unusual about them, and, if nothing else, unusual tales made for wonderful ballads.
xXxXxXxXxXx
If Whiterun was an old, sprawling city, Solitude was more of a metropolis. Buildings were packed tightly in places, but always built neatly and in parallel to each other. Nothing was out of place. Instead of open gardens for miscellaneous crops, the green spaces were extremely segmented, featuring flowers and aesthetically pleasing plants more often than not.
Also unlike Whiterun, where the buildings were built in a more rustic style, Solitude was filled with stone. Stone-brick walls, cobbled-stone streets, and clay and stone shingles were the dominant building materials.
And, both to her admiration and despair, everything was standardized. The roads were all the same size, bordered by the same buildings, and all led to similar courtyards with similar flowerbeds.
In short, everything looked the same.
It was a masterpiece of planning and architectural design, but absolutely terrible for visitors. The only reprieves were the banners and signs hanging from a few of the buildings.
She mentally cursed Sergius for abandoning her. He had waved her away from the manor he was delivering to with a quick "the Bard's College is up the hill that way. I'll meet you there after I'm finished here."
How far up the hill did he mean? And on which street? The second hill or the third one? Does he mean the arch?
And the thalmor was equally guilty - he up and disappeared the instant she turned her back on him.
Stupid thalmor and their stupid unhelpfulness.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes at the latest intersection. Still no road signs, but the intersecting road was wider and busier than the one she had been on, so she turned onto it with a shrug. Another quick turn and she was facing the towers of the Blue Palace. It was uphill.
She grinned.
This looks more promising - now was the Bards' college on the left side or right side?
The Bards' College was on the left, and Evelyn nearly ran up and hugged the sign when she finally spotted it. There were only so many concerned glances and double-takes that she could tolerate from the locals. She was zigzagging in order to read every sign on the road, not because she was ill! She couldn't help not being freakishly (read: nordicly) tall enough to read signs from the other side of the crowded road!
And if she didn't feel like walking in the middle, where everyone was crowding in too close, that was her own business. It wasn't safe to wander in the middle of so many people she didn't know.
With a deep breath, she knocked on the door. She could hear light music coming from inside - some kind of string instrument.
No response, though. Maybe they hadn't heard her? It was kind of loud outside...
Another quick rap on the door. Louder than the first.
The music stuttered briefly, picking up again as if nothing had happened.
Ah, so they're playing that game.
Evelyn twitched. She hadn't just spent the past hour or so searching the city to be ignored! Her eyes narrowed in the direction of the music. The next knock was more of a bang, but her hand only slightly regretted it. Let them try to ignore that!
The music cut off and she took a step back.
There were only a few seconds to regret antagonizing whoever was inside - the incoming footsteps were audible even over the road traffic. A fuming imperial woman opened the door and immediately started ranting about her impoliteness.
Evelyn took advantage of the open door to slowly edge her way inside, explaining that she was there on college business. But it was hard to get a word in edgewise when the woman refused to stop talking.
Evelyn quickly decided that this Aia Arria was harmless.
Loud and snobby and very self-assured, yes. But dangerous? Not in any sense of the word. Her only threats were that the Deans would be furious that their star pupil's practice had been interrupted by a wandering commoner. A filthy commoner, at that.
As she hadn't had a bath since leaving the College of Winterhold nearly a month ago, Evelyn couldn't blame the bard for not believing she was from the College of Winterhold.
But she had business at this College to complete, so she would be staying for at least a little while.
Blinking away her thoughts, she focused back on Aia. Who was still channeling her inner Karen.
"-Dean Pantea should not have to deal with the likes of you! I should not have to deal with you either! Barbarically interrupting my lute practice with your incessant noise-making, and now refusing to leave when I have so politely asked you to vacate the premises!"
A hand waved in her face. "Do you even know who I am?!"
Evelyn took a calming breath.
Yes. I know who you are. You're Aia Arria. You've told me several times already. And you apparently don't have a good memory.
She blinked and took a glance around. Where on Earth were the other bards? There should have been other students or a teacher somewhere. Someone else to ask about Pantea's flute or Urag's books.
But no, she was stuck with Aia.
Evelyn turned back to the ranting bard and tilted her head. Was it okay to let her go on talking? She opened her mouth to interrupt when the door burst open.
An altmer strode in. "Ah, Aia! I see that you've already welcomed our guest from the College of Winterhold! Good work!"
Evelyn stopped herself from correcting him and nodded in polite agreement. Aia had eventually let her in, after all. The altmer -very likely to be Viarmo- zipped over and, with a quick bow, threaded an arm in hers. He completely ignored the fact that any movement on her part knocked dried salt crystals off her robes and onto the floor. Aia was quiet, though whether that was from shock or Viarmo's presence was up for debate.
After a quick greeting, she was led into an office of some sort, with various instruments hanging on walls and sitting on pedestals.
She relaxed into the feather stuffed chair as Viarmo zipped around like a six-year-old on a sugar high. According to him, he had forgotten to get the books ready ahead of time. He had insisted on getting them himself, and Evelyn felt that it would be a faux pas if she tried to help the search, but she couldn't help but suspect that it was all an act on his part. She doubted that he was dumb enough to not notice that he had checked the exact same shelf over four times.
At this rate, Sergius might get here before he's done.
She narrowed her eyes as he took a book from the back bookshelf. It had the same binding style that she'd seen in the rest of the Wolf Queen series in the Arcanaeum. It looked worn enough to be a first edition, and also had the correct coloring. In short: it looked like it was the book she was waiting for. But instead of bringing it over, Viarmo scanned the cover and huffed. As if he was disappointed. She watched very carefully as he set the book aside, title facing away, before moving on to another pile of books.
Her smile twitched.
She sat with the smile pasted on for the next half-hour as Viarmo shuffled around the room pointlessly. She politely nibbled at the miniature sandwiches she was given, even though they were all drowning in mustard and pepper. She watched as Viarmo ate the sandwiches with her, talking about himself and asking useless questions. And further delaying his 'search.'
They fell into a routine after he finished his snack.
He went around the room to look for the book, and she glared at him while his back was turned. If he turned around, she would take another bite and try to tone down her gag reflex until he turned away again. Then she could go back to glaring.
Though she crushed the remains of her sandwich after Viarmo wandered over to the book and suddenly 'realized' that it was the one she wanted.
He had conveniently 'found' it right before Sergius arrived, after all.
Progress went much faster afterward. Money was exchanged and the book was wrapped up all in the span of a few minutes. She only remembered her second job just as they were leaving the office.
"I almost forget - Is Pantea here? I overheard Aia Arria talking about her."
Viarmo took a sideways glance at Sergius, but answered eventually. "Not at the moment, but she will be free in a few days. Does the College wish to hire her services?" Another look toward Sergius.
Evelyn sighed. No Pantea to teach me mage skills as a reward, then. She waved her hand dismissively. "Nah. I just think I found something of hers in a cave."
At that, Viarmo tilted his head to focus on her. "May I see?"
Hmm... May as well get this over with, even though Pantea isn't here.
Shuffling through her bag, she found the fabric-wrapped flute. She handed it over to Viarmo with a lazy flourish. "So... Is that, or is that not, Dean Pantea's flute?" She waved her hand in the flute's general direction. "I mean... It had a little Pantea label on it, but if it's not hers I need to know so I can hunt the correct one down."
Definitely not going to say that I've known that this belonged here ever since I saw the label.
Evelyn felt her heart drop when Viarmo began analyzing every nook and cranny. Just like when he was looking for the book.
Not this again.
She looked at Sergius, whose expression was unreadable. Then she looked at Viarmo, who was still poking at the flute. She nodded to herself. Yeah no. I'm getting outta here. With my luck, Viarmo's reward will be membership in the Bards' College.
And I would much prefer to never come back, instead.
She started inching toward the door.
Once she was far enough away from the two, she spoke up. "Ah, thanks for your time and all, but I'm pretty tired. I've got the book and I'm sure you can handle the rest, Sergius. I'll just head over to the... Winking Skeever, was it?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Wonderful. I'll see you there."
And with a few steps she was out of the office and free. She took a deep breath. Now she just needed to comb the city for the Winking Skeever.
xXxXxXxXxXx
As a College Wizard just off a ship voyage involving pirates, Evelyn had expected the wide berth she got from the other patrons at the Winking Skeever. She was enjoying the extra space to relax, actually, since the other patrons didn't smell much better than her.
Or at least, she had been enjoying herself, until someone came and tapped her on the shoulder like a creep.
Her glare froze in place when she turned around, however.
It was a man wearing a two-colored suit. Half red, half purple. He had a cup in hand and wasted no time taking a seat next to her, grinning. No one reacted to his sudden appearance and business went on as usual at the bar. Evelyn wasn't sure what to say, so she stayed quiet. And also very still.
"Heh, I see you know who I am, yes?"
She nodded and his grin grew unnaturally wide.
"Then I may as well cut to the point then. What's the use in always being roundabout when you can spice it up with being normal at times? I think a little normalcy can add a lot of excitement to life..."
Another chuckle as he took a sip. Then she nearly fell off her chair trying to back away as he leaned into her personal space.
He shook his drink at her, spilling some of it on her bedraggled robes.
"Don't try to get back. It's only going to end one way for you if you try."
Don't try to get back. What does he- Her eyes widened. He has to mean... getting back to Earth! He knows.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"And why should I trust you, Sheogora-"
He waved his hand in her face. "Woah, watch the name dropping! Call me Sheo. Sheogorath makes me feel like I'm ancient or something!"
She took a moment to blink and breathe in deeply. It would have been calming if the air didn't reek of alcohol and sweat.
"...Sheo, then. Why should I trust you? You're not exactly known for being helpful and good."
"What do you mean?! I can be helpful! The younger mes decided to not interfere except for our own interest, but I decided to veto myself to give you this advice - which is for your own interest. See, aren't I nice?"
He paused and stroked his beard.
"...But wait. If I don't want you dead, then that means that this is all technically in my own interest after all..."
He hummed and nodded, ale spilling out of his cup as he tilted it absentmindedly. Then, he perked up in his seat.
"In that case, I just tricked myself into thinking I beat me! How confusing and convoluted and confounding!-"
He then descended into giggles as Evelyn swallowed nervously. He may have denied being unhelpful, but he hadn't said anything about being good.
But... he said he didn't want her dead...
"Anyways, I think you need to loosen up, maybe think about a happy day or something." There was a pause as he set his cup down. "Oooh! Or maybe your worst day! Thinking about that might help you loosen up, too!" He nodded to himself, seeming incredibly satisfied with his advice, before standing up.
"I've got to go, little traveler, but remember to loosen up! You'll enjoy your once in a lifetime opportunity more that way! ...Maybe."
And then Sheogorath vanished, revealing a scowling Sergius. Behind him stood the thalmor.
They looked between her, the puddle of ale on the ground, and Sheogorath's empty cup in front of her. Sergius was not amused.
In the dark, Evelyn relaxed into the wall.
To be or not to be. That was the question. Listen to Sheogorath? Or listen to a dimensionally displaced and very distressed pirate? Should she ignore them both? For now, at least, she would sit in the corner of the rented room. Maybe argue with herself over how best to stay alive and get home.
She huffed out a breath and conjured a magelight, juggling it between her hands as she thought.
Though according to Sheogorath, getting home isn't an option.
If she took Sheogorath for his word, she'd be giving up on getting home. Resigning herself to being trapped here.
Toss the ball to the right.
But she still had no idea what the other Daedra wanted. They may never tell her either.
Then to the left.
She had been gone for so long already. Lived for months in a completely different universe. Had her family given up and moved on? While it was rare, people could go missing in modern times - just drop completely off the map to never be found again.
Was that what she had been labeled as? A missing person?
To the right.
And what would happen if she did manage to get back?
Back to the regular world where magic didn't exist. Reality. Where it seemed that life was falling apart at times.
But was there any sign of this world being less real than Earth?
Left.
Make the best of a situation but give up on going home?
Right.
Or try to get home even though it is likely never going to happen?
A battle between common sense and comfort on either side. Home would be safer, but trying to get back would go outside of my comfort zone. And going back home is logically the best and safest outcome, but it isn't logical to chase after impossibilities.
A sigh as she caught the magelight and looked down.
Heh. When there's no right answer... You may as well go left.
She wilted. The joke worked better when her dad said it. Terrible puns were his wheelhouse.
Evelyn sucked in a shaky breath, and then let it go.