Estelise walked though the gates of Solitude carrying just a satchel of clothes and some leftover coins from the carriage ride. Sunlight bounced off the shimmering silver fabric of her dress, and her white hair flowed behind her on a gentle wind. A priestess of Dibella, the mountain city of Markarth had been her home for many years. But as the civil war tore Skyrim apart and dragon attacks lowered their numbers, the imperial legion were looking to recruit new battlemages. The Nordic natives of Skyrim were rarely interested in magic, so the legion had a great need for skilled spellcasters. And Estelise had an aptitude for magic in her elven blood.
"Do you really have to go?" One of her friends from the temple asked. Of course, this was something she had already thought about at length. Did she really want to endure the training of a soldier? Risk her life on the battlefield?
"The Stormcloaks want to drive out everyone not from Skyrim," she said as she stroked the silk bedsheets they sat on. They wouldn't have luxuries like those in the barracks. "I'm not even from Tamriel! If I don't fight to stay, they'll force me to go." This was what the Thalmor Justiciars had told her, and they were in Skyrim to protect all children of the empire. All elves trusted them. And so was out of a sense of duty she got into that carriage and left for Solitude.
The capital city of Skyrim was bathed in sunlight. The centre was bustling with people out shopping for food and supplies. An Argonian winked and beckoned her from outside a tavern, but she avoided his gaze and kept walking. She could already see where she was headed; the tallest building in sight, the imperial army's headquarters.
"I love your dress!" A high elf called from the market square. Estelise smiled and twirled, her glittering skirts flowing around her. Then she stopped abruptly. "Something wrong?" The woman asked.
"Yes!" She felt blood rushing to her cheeks. How did I not realise sooner…. "I'm joining the imperial army today and all I have to wear are my dresses!" She suddenly felt cold with her exposed arms. "The other soldiers will think I look ridiculous."
The woman grabbed her hands suddenly. "Don't say that! Oh please don't change. You're the finest dressed person I've ever seen in this city- other than myself of course. I'm so tired of giving tasteless Nords fashion advice that they ignore…"
"But…"
"But nothing! If anyone questions your dress, send them down to the Radiant Raiment where Taarie will show them some real fashion." Estelise smiled; the high elf's attitude reminded her of some of the girls from the temple. She was glad to have befriended another elf already. "I have to ask," Taarie said, touching the fabric of her loose dress, "where did you get fabric like this in Skyrim?"
"Ah. It's not from Skyrim. I'm not from Skyrim. It's from my family's home country, which is… it's at the other side of Nirn." She smiled apologetically at Taarie. "I've never found anything similar in Tamriel."
"That's too bad.."
Estelise looked up at Castle Dour again. It seemed even taller than before. "I should go. Thank you for your kind words, Taarie," she gently touched the high elf's arm as she walked away.
"Good luck! And please, remember me if you ever need a new outfit!"
Estelise followed the sound of swords clashing until she reached the courtyard. A man with a thundering voice instructed those who were practicing archery. Estelise had never touched a weapon before; she only ever aided the guards in Markarth from afar with her spellcasting. She found them intimidating.
The soldiers wielding them were even more intimidating. They all looked so strong, and so serious.
It wasn't clear which of the looming wooden doors were the main entrance. Pulling a piece of paper out of her satchel, she searched for any clues on her letter from the Thalmor. No luck; it was just a short paragraph telling General Tullius to swear her in immediately.
"You lost?" Estelise jumped. She hadn't noticed the woman beside her crouched on a bench, sharpening a greatsword. "The blue palace is further down, princess."
Blood started to rush to Estelise's cheeks, and she tried her best to look unshaken. "I'm looking for the general, actually. I have a letter from the Thalmor. I'm supposed to be here."
Estelise properly looked at her intimadator. She was a dark elf woman in black leather armour. Her left arm was exposed, showing off her impressive muscles. Estelise wrapped her own chubby arms around herself, humiliated already.
The dark elf snatched the letter from her hands. When standing she was a head taller then Estelise. Her red eyes scanned the page. "I guess you are meant to be here," she said, throwing the letter back and turning away.
"Wait!" Estelise desperately wanted to get away from this scary woman, but she still didn't know where the door was. When the woman turned to look at her, she saw a long scar across her left eye. Her hair was shaven at the left side. She was unlike anything the moon elf had ever seen in her time at the temple of Dibella.
"Excuse me, but.. I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go."
"Not my problem." The dark elf turned to continue walking away, and instead came face to face with the captain of the guard. He stood with his arms crossed.
"Fioran," he said.
"What?" The dark elf snapped back.
"This is no way to treat a new recruit! If you keep up this attitude you'll be dead on the battlefield in minutes." As he spoke, Fioran rolled her eyes. Estelise got the impression it wasn't the first time she had been scolded like this. "You need to learn to care for your fellow soldiers or you'll weaken the whole group out there. The unity of the empire is our strength." Estelise felt more relaxed around this man; he was certainly less scary than this Fioran.
"Come on, Aldis. You know I-"
"Captain Aldis."
"Captain, you know I help out the other soldiers. My squad is the strongest in Skyrim. I just won't help a Dibellan whore."
Both Estelise and Aldis were shocked by Fioran's scathing words. Neither could come up with a response. Clearly proud of herself, Fioran walked off to join a group of elves sparring at the other side of the courtyard.
As she watched the dark elf saunter away, Estelise wanted nothing more than to run straight back to Markarth and lock herself in the temple. To wrap herself in the silk blankets, safe high above the city, surrounded by kind women who cared for her. But the Thalmor had chosen her to be a battlemage. She knew she had to do her part to help the empire defeat the Stormcloaks; she owed it to all the elves who couldn't fight, to the beast races who weren't even given the option. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Captain Aldis and held out her letter. "I'm supposed to be here."