Hey guys! Here's another chapter! I'm excited to start building towards the action of my story, and I'm glad you all came along for the ride!

As always, I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or any of the characters or assets found therein.

Hope you guys enjoy!

As dawn broke on the morning of the lecture, Tuscal went to the Hall of the Elements to prepare his thoughts. The walk was crisp in the morning winter cold, and students and staff alike were still in their beds. He was surprised, however, to find the lecture hall was not completely empty.

"Good morning." Tuscal announced, so not to startle the slender figure. She was wearing a simple and modest robe with a fur lined border, and looked up from the book she was reading.

"Oh, hello! I'm sorry, I hope I am not in your way. Are you the guest speaker?"

Tuscal could see she was a Dunmer, one of the so-called dark elves. Her skin was a light blue, almost gray, and her white hair tumbled down her shoulders like fresh snow banks. She smiled, warm and genuine, and Tuscal instinctively smiled back. He noticed she had unusually pink eyes. She looked to be young, although it was hard to tell with the Dunmer.

Tuscal bowed, holding his bag of notes and accessories close to his side. "Yes, I am fortunate to be given the opportunity to speak today. Tell me, are you a student here?"

The girl nodded, shutting the book and placing it in a small satchel by her side. "Yes! I am a transfer student here." The young woman bowed her head in respect. "My name is Airtafae, it is my pleasure."

Tuscal gave a small smile and nod, and began setting up his things. "The pleasure is mine, Airtafae. I am Tuscal. I am going to begin preparing for today's lecture, but you are welcome to stay. Tell me, what do you mean by a transfer student? Do you not live here at the College?"

Airtafae leaned in close, placing her clasped hands on her knees. "Oh, I have a room, yes. But I am only at this college part of the year. I am also a student of the Bard's College in Solitude, and I spend time traveling between the two, gaining experience."

Tuscal raised his eyes as he continued to assemble his station. "That sounds like quite the opportunity. I'll admit, I didn't know the College would support such an unusual arrangement."

Airtafae smiled broadly. "I'm pretty lucky, I guess. It's in the starting stages, I think, with the new Archmage in charge of the College and all."

"You mean J'zargo?"

"Oh no," The young elf shook her head. "Master J'zargo is great, but he is our Master Wizard. He answers to Archmage Mournrose."

Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of the rest of the audience. The full denizens of the College were not many. Tuscal counted 10 students and 9 faculty members, including J'zargo. An older orc gentleman came and handed a bright red book to a young Nord male, and then took his seat, arms crossed. Tuscal noticed that, while small, the college did seem to well represent the races of Tamriel, of all ages and gender.

When the last person entered the hall, J'zargo stood and moved to Tuscal's side. "May J'zargo have your attention, please. Thank you. We are most fortunate this day to welcome our guest speaker, Tuscal of Valenwood, to our hall. As you may know, we at the College uphold the careful study of all magics in Skyrim. But we do not deny, there is still much to learn. Master Tuscal," and J'zargo motioned while Tuscal lowered his head respectfully, "Has brought us knowledge of Alteration, and not just that known in Skyrim, but of his homeland Valenwood."

A slight whisper rose from the crowd, and J'zargo smiled. "While normally our beloved Arch Mage would do the honors of introducing today's speaker, I will have to do instead. Tuscal of Valenwood, the floor is yours."

J'zargo stepped away, allowing Tuscal to address the crowd. "Greetings. I hope you don't mind, but I find action speaks much louder than words." Tuscal noticed that nearly everyone was looking at him, except for the young Nord male, intently reading his new tome.

"I will need a volunteer. How about you, young man?"

It took the young Nord a moment to realize that everyone in the lecture hall was now staring at him. Turning a shade of crimson that matched his book, he put it away in his satchel and walked forward.

"What is your name?"

The young man cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Onmund, sir."

"Very well, Onmund," Tuscal said, not unkindly. "You look to be a studious young fellow. Tell me, what do you know of the study of Alteration?"

Tuscal waited while Onmund adjusted his spectacles. "Well, sir, the study of Alteration focuses on the transmutation of objects from one state to another."

"Excellent answer," Tuscal smiled. "To put it more simply, it focuses on change. Adaptation. Alteration mages bring about change in the physical world through their magic. Now tell me, Onmund, what Alteration spells are you aware of?"

The young man adjusted his spectacles again, looking up as he recited from memory. "Candlelight, Magelight, Oakflesh, Stoneflesh, Iron Flesh, Paralysis, Waterbreathing…"

"Good, good." Tuscal laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "An answer very fitting of Skyrim's history. You may not know from their general distrust today, but the Nords practiced magic in the ancient days. Due to war, conflicts and harsh conditions, much of their magic was designed to aid in survival. A certain mindset of conquering the land and the elements shows itself in Skyrim's magic."

"However," Tuscal said, and picked up a smooth, blue leather tome from the table and held it before him, "Not all of Tamriel has learned magic in the same way. In my homeland of Valenwood, we are able to use magic to communicate with nature, and change it more fluidly. As such, our magic differs greatly."

"Now Onmund," Tuscal said, turning back to the young man. "I couldn't help but notice that fine red book you were intently reading. What was the name of it?"

"Daughter of the Niben, sir."

"Ah yes. A rare tome, you must be using it for your studies. Well, I saw you put it into your bag. Would you believe me if I told you that you instead have my copy of Beggar Prince," and Tuscal waved the blue tome that he held in his hand, "in your bag?"

Onmund furrowed his brow and said nothing. Tuscal chuckled, and placed the blue tome inside his own satchel. "Go ahead, Onmund, check and see."

Onmund opened his satchel, widened his eyes, and lifted out the beautiful blue tome that had just been in Tuscal's hand. Tuscal then opened his satchel, lifting out the red tome that Onmund was so keen of. The crowd murmured, and the older orc who had brought the book piped up. "An Illusion?"

"Not an Illusion," Tuscal stated, as he handed the book back. "A very simple alteration enchantment on this satchel. It is able to transpose the two books, changing where they are in relation to each other. I say simple, what I mean is that things can be much more complicated. These are both books, they are close to one another, so on and so on. It would be much more difficult if the item was more complicated."

"Perhaps, with a mortal being?" J'zargo queried.

"Exactly." Tuscal then motioned to the young Nord. "Onmund, may we make a demonstration?"

The young man nodded eagerly.

"Then close your eyes, relax, and on three. One-"

And Tuscal waved his hands, a strong smell of lavender arose, and with a faint *pop*, the two switched places instantaneously. The audience gave considerable applause. Onmund opened his eyes, startled at the sudden change in space.

Tuscal smiled and addressed his attentive audience. "I have dedicated my life to the study of alteration, and I have prepared a few more demonstrations. One aspect I can alter is myself-" suddenly Tuscal held his breath, bending his fingers in a strange shape, while his skin distorted and changed and slowly but unmistakably took on the appearance of Onmund. The audience laughed, and Onmund adjusted his spectacles to see better. The doppelgänger did the same, mirroring the young man. Then the clone exhaled, and Tuscal quickly reverted to his original form.

"Objects can be fabricated into something else entirely," Tuscal snapped his fingers and a lilac glow surrounded several of the students books, as they flew together, twisting and bending, finally merging to create the shape of a dragon, flying about on paper wings.

"I can even alter certain properties of rudimentary objects." Tuscal took a pebble out of his pocket, whispered a few words gently to it, and it shot, straight and sure, at the paper dragon, causing to explode in a thousand pieces. The students laughed excitably, as the torn books fluttered about them, but the older orc stood up abruptly, looking quite agitated.

"But of course, the magic has much more practical uses." Tuscal clapped his hands, and with a woosh, all the pieces of the torn and frayed books twirled together, slowly mending and reattaching themselves to pristine condition. With this, the audience clapped heartedly, and the older orc sat down, grudgingly adding to the applause.

When the applause died down, J'zargo spoke aloud so all could hear. "But what is your greatest use of this magic, J'zargo wonders?"

Tuscal faked a smile as he looked at the Khajiit. "We will have to see, won't we?"

When night had fallen after the demonstration, Tuscal wandered into the town of Winterhold. He looked back at the stone bridge leading to the college to make sure no one had followed him. Making out no one in the frigid storm, he ducked into the building marked only by a battered sign that bore the words The Frozen Hearth.

The name of the tavern must have been a joke to the townspeople, because a large roaring fire filled up the center of the establishment, with tables and booths surrounding it. Tuscal scanned the patrons present, and then wandered over and sat down next to a Nord at the bar. The elf ordered an ale, then shivered as the door opened again, letting in an arctic draft. Tuscal clutched his warm cloak even tighter about him, but the Nord next to him looked comfortable in his light tunic.

"Hello Tuscal. How was your first day?"

Tuscal gave a slight glance over at the man. He was a veritable mountain of muscle and bone. His red hair was swept back and collected in a single ponytail, and he sported large, bushy red sideburns. The Nord gave all the physical indications of being a bruiser, a meathead, but there was cunning and ice in his eyes. Tuscal cleared his throat. "It went well, Bjorn. I was accepted easily, just like you said. The lecture was undoubtedly a success."

"You were offered a position at the college, then?"

"The Khajiit assured me that he would personally inform the archmage of the decision."

The man named Bjorn gave a crooked smile, lifting his mug and draining it to the last drop. "Good. We can finally get started then."

Bjorn kicked a large wooden chest at his feet, and stood up from the bar. "Everything you asked for, exactly as you requested. If you need me, I'll be staying in town."

Tuscal nodded. "The archmage isn't here, Bjorn. I don't know how I'll be able to collect information on her."

Bjorn paid his tab, and patted the elf on the back roughly. "Don't you worry about that. You just stay close to the bloodsuckers and relay any information you come across to me. I'll make sure it gets to the right hands."

"To your mysterious benefactor, you mean?"

"That's right." The man smiled, tilting his muscled head and giving it a loud krek. "Don't worry, you will meet him when the time is right. For now, you better head on back to the College. Don't want to lose the new professor his first night due to a snowstorm, huh?"

Tuscal grunted, his eyes not straying from the man as he left the tavern. As Tuscal clutched his cloak tight again from the icy blast, the Nord didn't even wince.

And there you have it! I hope you enjoyed reading! As always, thanks for checking out my work!

I would love comments and reviews, and I am open to constructive criticism. You guys have an awesome day out there, and happy questing!