Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs, etc. Stories might not be in chronological order.


Paradigm Shift

Candlehearth Hall, as anyone will tell you, was named for the ever-burning, never consuming candle that sat on the shelf of the upper level hearth. A brick hearth placed in the center of the chamber with no corresponding lower-level hearth. Indeed, the kitchen hearth was off in another corner of the building. If one were to look to what's below the candle's hearth, it would be an empty corridor, with the weight above barely supported by load-bearing walls.

The candle was a novelty guests liked to play with, many trying to blow or pinch the flame out. They would hold their hand over the flame tip. The candle gave no warmth, just light, and it differed from an illusionist's candlelight spell because it mimicked the look of a candle flame and wasn't a dandelion fluff of pure light anchored to a pillar of wax. The wax itself had some enchantment because it could not be melted, could not be broken, and could not be scratched or otherwise marked, though it felt like wax.

Horace stuck his finger into the flame and watching as the fire forked and lapped around his finger as regular flame would but without the heat or smoke. Elisara, standing beside him, said, "The power is neither daedric nor aedric. It emanates from Mundus itself."

"In the Second Era, this was the site of a teleport shrine," said Revyn, coming up behind them. "The Kamal destroyed it to prevent Nords from fleeing the city or from bringing in new fighters.

"This is the only still-powered remnant of the ancient teleport system that exists in Skyrim. Or, at least, of a known system. My wife and Little Nicky used copies of location maps we obtained from the Temple in Morrowind to search out the known Skyrim locations. All destroyed. Only two had power remaining. Candlehearth, and the one in Winterhold, except the Winterhold one is underwater. Between Red Mountain and the Oblivion Crisis, magic was so disrupted that even shrines that survived the Planemeld and the Brass God were deactivated."

"My lord, have you tried standing directly below this hearth? If you have, did you feel anything?" asked Elisara. "I just tried. I don't think I felt anything other than cold because that particular spot gets a draft every time the front door opens."

"Hm. Ever bring the Ebonheart talisman here to provoke a reaction?" asked Horace, referring to the black gate stone Revyn had taken from an ancient, hidden Ebonheart teleport shrine.

"I never thought to do that," said Revyn, surprised. "I wonder why? Perhaps I should, although I do feel that doing so with so many people crowding this inn right now would be provoking the wrong reaction."

"Hm, yes. Having a reactivated portal ripping through here, even if emptied, would probably not be good for future negotiations with Mistress Early-Dawn," mused Horace.

"Gods, what a nightmare that would be," agreed Revyn. "Right, just go ahead with more lectures about how evil dark elf magic caused yet another disaster in Skyrim. Wasn't Winterhold enough?"

Revyn's bodyguard hissed an alert.

"Is there something you need?" Early-Dawn's voice cut sharply between them. "My Lord," she said curtly, grudgingly to Revyn, and "Sir?" to Horace. She didn't look at the high elf or the bodyguard at all.

"No, we're quite fine, madam," said Horace, genially with his most charming smile.

"Hmph," she responded, unimpressed.

They went out a side door and headed for the Ashlight Inn, a new inn in the Gray Quarters owned by a Nord, a retired tribune of the Imperial forces who had been glad to return home with his Imperial wife. He used money he'd earned in the Legion and money his wife inherited and bought the decrepit tenement. The building had been abandoned as the tenants had moved out to the new Dunmer town, willing to live in tents or open camping in the warmer climate rather than stay another week in this part of Eastmarch.

The Nord had gotten a loan of additional operating funds from Revyn and had gotten an inn up and running in less than a month with help from dozens of Dunmer willing to work for any cash to buy supplies before moving out of Windhelm. It was still a bit rough and construction work was still being done, but already it had bookings and was receiving customers. Among the first had been Revyn's Imperial relatives. Right now, the inn only provided rooms. A married Nord and Dunmer couple, also ex-Imperial forces, mess sergeants both, had bought the building next to the inn and started an eatery. It was set up military style.

They paid the entrance fee, picked up their food trays and fell in line. The main featured food this week were dishes from High Rock. One tray, anything you can pile on it, then find a spot on one of the long tables.

"You can't tell me the Imperial forces fed like this every day," said Elisara.

"Naw. This is officers' mess," the mer next to her commented.

"Hah," an Altmer further down the table said. "Even us officers didn't get this unless the cooks had the skill, and those cooks aren't often pulling field duty in the provinces."

"Nice to see you, Legate Fasendil," said Revyn. "What brings you all the way from Fort Neugrad?"

"Escort. We just arrived this morning with Elder Councilor Marcia Tullia, who bought the late Councilor Motierre's seat. She's eager to meet you. I delivered her invitation to your secretary earlier today."

"I've been out," Revyn said apologetically.

"I know, my lord. And congratulations on your rise in rank."

"Marcia Tullia," repeated Horace, "Jarlan's daughter?"

"She is, sir."

"Well, well, the old dog is trying a new trick. But she's a historian, a military scholar."

"That she is, sir, but the Emperor has changed the admittance condition to the Elder Council. Wealth alone no longer guarantees a seat on the Council, although being wealthy is still required."

"This 'Jarlan,' do you mean General Tullius?" asked Revyn.

"Yes. Knight-Protector General Jarlan Marcus Tullius." Horace grinned. "During the War, Jarlan's lands were overrun with Dominion troops. He got his wife and daughter out and asked Inelisi to shelter them for a time while he served under Inanna's command.

"After the war, and she was old enough, Marcia served in the Legion, but she was more a scholar than a soldier. She did her minimum number of years, then went to study military history. She's authored several well-received books. If General Tullius and the rest of the family have thrown their personal wealth behind her, then she makes minimal wealth qualification for the Elder Council."

"The Emperor has asked her to work with the Jarl Elisif," said Fasendil. "Seeing as the Jarl has no practical experience with Imperial politics, and General Tullius can't rightly represent Skyrim or act as her counselor in such matters, The Emperor has asked Councilor Tullia to prepare Jarl Elisif to take her seat on the Elder Council as Skyrim's representative."

"Ah, very good," said Revyn, politely.

"You have a problem with with Jarl Elisif joining the Elder Council?" asked Horace in a low tone when, after proper introduction, Elisara and Legate Fasendil began conversing.

"Only that I hope Jarl Elisif can be brought up to hold her own in such a cut-throat arena," said Revyn. "The late High King did not choose his bride for political savvy or strength of character, and she was never trained to be a queen. She still relies too heavily on her advisors."

"Of which you are one," said Horace.

"Yes. Unofficially and if I have time to spare. I am concerned that during the time it will take to get her to an acceptable state that Skyrim will be unrepresented in the Elder Council during an important turning point in history."

"Who would you have to fill in the gap then? Of the jarls, that is. Because the Elder Council seat is reserved for the High King or Queen of Skyrim."

"Only two would I consider — Jarl Balgruuf or Jarl Idgrod. But Jarl Balgruuf is too important where he is right now. Jarl Idgrod is probably the better choice as Morthal does not really require too much of her time, and I think she's recovered from her recent, um, ill health."

"I'd say tell that to Marcia, though I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't come to that conclusion herself. And if you have time, I'd recommend reading some of her books with the knowledge that what she's put in print is likely only a small part of what her research has uncovered."

"Ah, so like our cousins of the Gold Coast Watch news journal."

"Precisely like them."

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

Elder Councilor Marcia Tullia had her father's gray eyes, but she favored her Breton mother with round, gentle features and a mass of long, curly brown hair and slightly pointed ears. Her dress was simple, and over it she wore a scholar's coat with an emblem of a professor of the Imperial University. A soldier's Imperial style sword buckled at her side was a strange ornament, as were the leather armguards. Revyn expected students fated to defend their thesis to her were warned well beforehand by her dress that they faced a tough challenge.

She surprised Revyn by embracing him and kissing both his cheeks. "I've heard a lot about you, Revyn dear. The General has mentioned you in his letters, which means you made a strong impression because he always takes care not to include assignment details or information on whom he deals with in case letters go astray. And the Emperor tells me your advice is invaluable.

"Oh, and I see I must apologize, my lord, for being too familiar with your person. You see, I just came here from Riften, from Goldenglow, and two days of gossip with Helsi. After hearing everything from her, I feel I'm in love with you almost as much as she is."

"Oh, as long as your father doesn't hear about this," Revyn teased.

"True, true. Unlike Helsi's father — gods rest his soul — who favored hanging his enemies off the side of the White-Gold Tower, the General simply will be happy with your head on a pike outside his office."

"'Helsi?'" repeated Revyn, smiling, "I've not heard that nickname."

"Well, I was a sort of older sister for a few years and she was like the cutest little baby doll and I thought then that 'Helsi' was more appropriate a name. I hated to leave her when the war ended and father felt it was safe to move us back home when Dominion troops had finally left our home."

She quickly saw them settled at a table with kafe and a tray of small sandwiches between them. "Well, I would love to chat with you about all sorts of things, but I understand we both have busy schedules, so I'll get right to the point. What can you tell me about how to work with Jarl Elisif, what's your general view of the current politics of Skyrim, and what can I do to help with Helsi's insane destiny to fight the son of a god? I don't know if Alduin is in the same league as Mehrunes Dagon, and Akatosh isn't going to go snout-to-snout with his son, so …"

Revyn smiled wanly, realizing that while Marcia Tullia wasn't a Felix, she was family of a sort by secrets instead of blood.

"First point, my dear, it's not just Jarl Elisif. Someone needs to be representing Skyrim now on the Elder Council and I'm proposing you meet with Jarl Idgrod of Morthal, and this is why ..."

Marcia Tullia was chucking much later. "If she is who I think she is, then in her heyday she was one of General Decianus's best agents for keeping track of Thalmor. This agent, called 'the Raven,' stole and winged information to Decianus so that he could hide his legions in Colovia until the Battle of Red Ring. The Thalmor eventually learned the Raven's code name, and they were sure Raven had to be one of Nocturnal's fabled 'nightingales' because despite the name, Nocturnal is always pictured with ravens. They were certain the Thieves Guild were spies for the Empire and burned out every Thieves Guild hall they could find. Her being a natural-born seeress would explain so much.

"I think you'll have to loan me Yannig for a while," she said, suddenly serious. "Jarl Elisif will need to know the 'Idgrod' she's come to depend on as a friend and confidant is a fake, and she'll be hurt, and her trust in you and Jarl Idgrod will be compromised if not addressed immediately."

"Oh, immediately," Revyn agreed. "I'm sorry I never saw that."

"So I expect. Keeping King Ulfric happy likely takes a great deal of your time. But that's why I'm here. The Emperor has seen that the General and you need some help to bring Jarl Elisif up to standards. Father has little patience for delicate flowers like Jarl Elisif, and you, you need to stay in the shadows as much as possible. Although, my lord, your king has made that so much more difficult for you.

"But it's not as if the General and the Emperor haven't learned the Felix trick of misdirection."

"Ah."

"Yes. Now, tell me what other political tangles you need the military governor's daughter to publicly meddle in like the insufferably high-handed Imperial outsider she is."

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

Middle of winter and Dunmer were leaving Windhelm in droves, the Stormcloaks happily giving them safe escort to the far edges of Eastmarch. Land and buildings in the Gray Quarter were gradually surrendered to Nords. Windhelm Nords returning from Imperial service had to apply for conditional amnesty, and today Revyn was meeting with Ulfric, Galmar, and Jorlief for a general discussion on adopting and adapting the Gray Quarter's "community service" program for repatriating Nords who had served in the Legion.

The discussion, inevitably, shifted again to the question of law enforcement. Windhelm, for the last two years, had worked out a relatively stable two-system enforcement and punishment system with the Gray Quarter having its own guards and judicial court. Still, a timeline needed to be set for the Gray Guards to end their watch in Windhelm and for the regular city guards to return to patrolling the Gray Quarter. There was also the matter of those Nords who had opted to serve time under Gray Quarter laws with sentences that extended past the changeover deadline. It wasn't likely to happen for the next couple of years.

There was too much that needed to be done at the new city site before it could receive thousands of mer. Anything less would only mean lawlessness and chaos and squalor, earning the ire of neighboring cities and holds. The Gray Guards were already split, with over half in the new town pulling double duty as town guards and area patrols. As Revyn had promised, an army barracks was being built and Dunmer were being recruited for the Stormcloak army. Ulfric was adamant about that. Jarl Laila may be content to let the Indorils operate independently of Stormcloak command while they performed Stormcloak duties, but he was having none of that in Eastmarch.

And new Dunmer town or not, there would always be some Dunmer staying in Windhelm, likely those that had property in and around the city or who were involved in trade coming overland through Dunmeth Pass or by ships to Windhelm's docks. And those staying needed reassurance that they could hope for fair treatment once the Quarter's Indoril magistrate and his staff relocated to the new town.

Refugees Rest would remain a sanctuary point between Morrowind and Skyrim. Ulfric would continue to honor Skyrim's past agreements on this land and regarding Solstheim, something he wanted Revyn to convey to the ambassadors from Morrowind. Doing otherwise would have been an unforgivable insult to all the Dunmer in Windhelm who had put in money, resources, and hard labor to renovate the Refugees Rest site. And trying to take back Solstheim would have been a declaration of war with Morrowind.

Revyn sighed silently as he reviewed his checklist of things to do. He foresaw many long evenings of discussion and planning with his people.

Frustration gnawed at him. All this was important, but it was getting in the way of his desire to get a gate to Skuldafen working. And he'd lost one of his comforts recently. Before his promotion to nobility, he could drop in on his store and do some soothing inventory or inspecting the books.

Today, they'd tossed him out of his own store.

Well, "tossed" may be an exaggeration. Escorted. Ushered.

A step up in rank and suddenly his staff believed it was below a noble's dignity to be rooting around in shop books or sorting a bag of used goods. A lord had more important things to do, like dealing with non-customers who followed him — people with complaints or problems who expected him to fix their lives and caused scenes and broke things if he didn't. He wasn't welcome in his own store anymore.

And though he liked his bodyguards on a personal level, it was yet another frustrating adjustment from an occasional engagement to a daily necessity. He was safe enough in the Quarter, but once he stepped outside, it was all these new Nords who were still chanting the "Skyrim belongs to the Nords" mantra and resisting the idea that the dark elves were here to stay. "Why don't you go back to where you came from?" was the snarled command he now often heard.

The fact that he was not some great warrior, which would offer some slight excuse for his existence, evoked suspicions that his elevation came by more sinister means. Unhappy Nords were not shy about confronting him, questioning his goals, challenging his place in Ulfric's court. After one too many altercations, Galmar said to get bodyguards or he would assign some from the city guards.

"Yo! Revyn! Wait up!"

Only one mer he knew spoke like that. He waved his guards to let by the large Dunmer jogging towards him.

"Master Curtis, a surprise to see you. You have business in Windhelm?"

"Yeah, people to meet, a couple of boys to bury — construction accidents — and a little vacation. There's a bunch of us come down from Winterhold since the project has been halted for the season. Just dropped off Savela and Tirenea at your place. Guardians were happy, but they kinda scared a bunch of people out of the business office."

Revyn glanced at the two Nords trailing behind the Dunmer scientist, father and son by their shared features.

"Oh, this is Sergeant Beck, the armsmaster for the Winterhold Guards, and his son, Elden, the divemaster for the Nord team, and my part-time apprentice. Good friends."

"Guards," interjected Beck. "We keep Curtis out of trouble when he's walking in dreams about his machines. Pleased to meet you, sir."

"You will address him as 'my lord,'" corrected one of Revyn's bodyguards.

"A recent elevation," sighed Revyn.

"No shit? Hey, congratulations, my lord."

"Is Taliesin and Severus with you?" asked Revyn.

"No, they were heading for the Rift to look at another wall. They kinda got the reading bug."

Revyn nodded, understanding that Severus, the Nerevarine, was now a confirmed Dragonborn. "Hm. Well, do you have any other engagements this evening? There are some people also in town who are eager to meet you. They were, in fact, planning to sail up to Winterhold to do so."

"Got nothing planned tonight so I'll be happy to meet 'em. Like, now? Or should I meet you somewhere later?"

"I was heading home first. Come with me, and I'll send someone to fetch the others."

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

"Master? I brought you some tea. You looked like you needed it." Savela smiled hopefully as she set down a tray with a teapot and a small savory muffin.

He sniffed at the tea. "A medicinal tea? The one for women's problems?"

"It's mixed with other herbs that alter its effect to a general pain reducer that also works for men. It works almost like Ancestor Moth tea, but soothes one's heart more and re-balances the workings of other organs. We use this formulation in Winterhold with Dunmer having problems recovering from the deep-dive sickness."

"Ah. Sit down, sit down, dear child." He sipped more of the tea and sighed as he felt a little more tension slough away. "You've fixed the bitterness problem." He took a bite of the muffin and noted how the tea's flavor melded nicely with the other herbs, converting to a peppery flavor. A pleasant warmth and tingling was happening in his stomach and spreading with each beat of his heart.

"Your letters sound happy. You won't be returning as my apprentice then."

"No, master."

"You needn't address me as that then, you know."

"I know, but it feels comfortable for now. I wish I could call you 'father,' but that's improper, 'my lord' is too distant, and using your name feels deeply disrespectful to me.

"And … and I think I couldn't return even if shopkeeping was what I wanted to do. You're no longer a shopkeeper. I'm sorry."

"True," he finally admitted sadly. The sharp pain he usually felt as he faced that truth again was buffered this time by whatever was in that tea. He could see that truth and beyond it now.

"Still, I know there's so much more I can learn from you if you would continue as my mentor, or, if I may continue to consult with you on business details I am handling for Master Curtis and the College?"

Revyn thought about it. "I may not always be available, but yes, you may."

She stood up, came around the table to stand behind his chair and embrace him.

"Thank you. I hope you know, master, that you can rely on me for any assistance I can give on the Archimage Dragonborn's business. Serjo Helsette's business." She sighed against his ear. "I've always known your wife was more than an adventurer and that you had other business outside the shop. But I knew I was too young and inexperienced to help, and you were being an adult and sheltering me. Once I got to Winterhold, there were too many facts for me to ignore, and that helped me piece together the oddities I couldn't help but observe even when stuck behind the counter of a store. Still, I tried to help as I could."

"I remember that lesson you taught me about candles. One light can't hope to hold off the night, but a chain of us can."


-V2-

Related stories:
#5 Help Wanted • #21 Twisting the Blade • #71 Forbidden Legend • (2nd Life) #27 Severus

OC's:
Horace Felix (cousin in-law, merchant) • Elisara (aka Ardeth Chamius d'Karoodil, Altmer cousin from Firsthold) • Inelisi Faro Felix (mother-in-law, matriarch of Clan Felix) • Marcia Tullia (daughter of General Tullius) • Savela (ex-apprentice, College student & clerk) • Curtis Johnson (Story: 2nd Life, Earthling/reincarnated Dwemer) • Sgt. Beck (2nd Life, Winterhold guard) • Elden Beck (2nd Life, divemaster, guard) • Tirenea (Revyn's cousin)


GalacticHalfling: I'm probably wrong, but I tend to thing of "thane" as a knighthood, non-transferable to descendants. Cursory look into definitions puts a thane as more of a military capacity, although in Skyrim (e.g.: Thane Erikur of Solitude) military service is not required.

Ted Hsu: So they use him as a medium only as needed. He calls on them to manifest and defend him only as needed. He's a traditional Dunmer and keeps a shrine, an open, Waiting Door, for the family dead, and it doesn't bother him that ancestral ghosts walk his home. Paying forward; paying back.