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Chapter 8:

The College Arrives

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I'd just finished my morning routine, and had just put my freshly cleaned dildo back in its velvet-lined box with a smile, when I noticed three people arriving in town.

Out of habit - and to make sure no new visitors panicked due to being greeted by a 120-pound insect - I checked where the Chaurus were: Skitter was in her newly-made den near the grotto, seething in [annoyance] as she ate half a troll; Bullet and Twinkie were in the iron mine, assisting with moving waste rock to the entrance where it could be carted away; Judas and Bentley were teaching the newborns, all twelve of them, what they could and couldn't eat; most of the remaining common Chaurus were making sure the egg sacs were safe, or were collecting tree bark for the larder.

Sophia was behind my house, [insisting] to Imp that they keep working on clearing snow off the spot where I planned to build a greenhouse – so the bees wouldn't have to go as far to collect nectar. Imp just wanted to play, and was [interested] in the new arrivals.

Smiling fondly at the feelings of [determination] and [happiness] coming from my chitinous friends, I reached out with my power and backed up Sophia's [insistence] with my own. Imp became grumpy, while Sophia turned up the smug and kept using her forelimbs to clear last night's snow from the rough foundation some of Helga's sons laid two days ago.

Just another day in Dawnstar, my new home. The thought still brought a bright warmth of happiness in my chest; I had a home!

Staying at the inn just wasn't the same as having a space of my own; there, I needed to keep my activities quiet, both regarding my bees – which could get quite loud when I had them swarm out to collect pollen and nectar – as well as my nightly pleasures. The slender, ribbed tool of blue glass was, thus far, my favorite purchase since arriving in Dawnstar; it was almost too good at its purpose, seeing as I had to bite my pillow quite often, so the other patrons of the Windpeak wouldn't be treated to my passionate keening.

Not so in my new house. Due to the insulation and the thick stone walls, I could moan and howl in ecstasy with no one the wiser. Pity that everyone who tickled my fancy was off-put by my abilities.

I could still look, however. The previous night saw me fantasizing about eight of the more well-endowed sailors of the Dawnsprite taking me below deck, binding me to a wooden beam, and taking turns with me until I was unable to walk. My 'little friend' helped things along splendidly; so much so, I forgot to clean up before passing out. Good thing I had running water and fresh sheets, or Callidus would get all embarrassed and scandalized by the sight of the stains.

Not that he had any room to talk, as he'd been shacking up with one of the female Brass Bows that'd been pardoned due to being more indentured servant than bandit; she was now working at the quicksilver mine, and the pair were meeting every other night since Heart's Day.

I made a mental note to remind the dockworkers to check the warehouse after hours, get my steward to pull both his heads in before he got the Breton woman, Liora, pregnant.

Musings on my lack of a love life completed, I turned my power to the rest of Dawnstar, dressing in a plain brown tunic and pants with matching boots as I examined my wider home.

It was early, but the town was already bustling with activity; the bakers were delivering their first batches to the mines and the docks, the sailors at the docks going about their duties, and the kiln at Hilda's house was already puffing smoke as the elderly master potter oversaw the making of the honey jars and artisan orders, the latter of which would be delivered all across Skyrim.

Making sure my prosthetic was secure on my arm, and that the hand was adjusted for eating breakfast, I decided to join the bustle of activity. No rest for the wicked and all that, I thought, my smile becoming bright as Magnus.

As I went upstairs – where Callidus was waiting with a full breakfast for us both – I examined the new arrivals as they stopped and admired the town of Dawnstar, with its horseshoe shape and thatched roofs, its delighted atmosphere and clean streets.

Two were wearing fur cloaks over robes, and were both Elves. One was shorter, and was carrying more bags than the taller, who was deferring to the third member on where to go in the town. That third person felt taller than me, and was – I blushed brightly as I entered the common room of my house.

'Dibella preserve me and give me patience,' I thought, eyes going wide. The third member was definitely male, muscular, and – I saw him though Judas' eyes as the trio made their way toward the inn – a quite handsome if rugged young man in heavy armor, wielding an impressive greatsword.

And no, he was not compensating for anything.

"Good morning, Miss," ah, Callidus. I favored my steward with a smile; he was already sitting at the dining table, dressed in a green and brown outfit, and his breakfast was half finished. My smile vanished, however, when I spotted the small stack of letters next to his plate; he chuckled sheepishly, "Orders, I think, or requests for specialty products."

"I am not a factory," I sighed, seating myself and reaching toward my fork; I was hungry, and business could wait.

Such were the downsides of being myself, I suppose.

Making honey in Dawnstar, apparently, had caused a sensation throughout Skyrim. I was, by no intention of my own, now slightly famous for my actions; due to this, more than a few people in high places had taken notice. I'd expected that, had made preparations for being questioned about my past…

Instead, people had been contacting me, asking when the first pots would be available for sale; how much would they be; would I be making beeswax products; did I take advance orders; was there a catalog they could peruse so they knew what kinds of honey I offered; was I averse to making mead?

That last one was the most common.

Halfway through my omelet, I swallowed and remarked to Callidus, who was frowning at a letter bearing the seal of Markarth, "I don't understand it. I'm just one beekeeper, not Honeyside." That place, I found, made a good half of the honey in Skyrim.

"Honeyside doesn't do artisanal honey, Miss Khepri," my steward replied soothingly, then folded the letter and tossed it in the fire. Callidus shook his head at my questioning expression, "It was an offer to move you to Markarth. They offered ten Septims."

I huffed at the utterly insulting offer, then smiled, "Well, at least you spared me having to read them carrying on about how great they are. Again," he laughed, and we continued eating.

Though I was still working; the bees, in their four apiaries, had wax aplenty, and the shed behind my house held what remained of the first ten pots of honey. There were five left, and enough honey in the apiary for another thirty.

I'd been working the bees in two shifts, during the day; eight hundred workers would collect nectar from the southern fields, store it, then eat some fleas and rest while the next shift went out to collect from the field near the spriggan's ruin. All told, between the four apiaries, I had 1,922 bees, not counting the four queens, and approximately twenty pounds of honeycomb.

The spriggans… I wondered about them. They existed in my power's area of influence, but not as something I could control. More an area of high pressure, a thickness in my range that I couldn't understand or take hold of. Not that I would, of course; I could feel something about them, as though the feminine nature avatar was seeing my works and approving of them.

The bounty that came to Dawnstar's fields was likely her doing, no doubt, as the guards had seen the spriggan walking the fields at night.

Noticing that the armored hunk was waiting outside the inn, and the two women he'd been escorting were talking with Erandur – who always ate his meals at the Windpeak – I hummed and told Callidus, "We'll have a lot of beeswax, once the combs are removed and the hives are rotated. Once done, we'll have enough for candles and some other wax products."

He blinked his brown eyes at me, but rallied quickly, passing me a folded piece of paper covered in sketches that was hidden under the letters, "I, ah, thought you'd say that, Miss. I've made a rough catalog, for when we're ready."

I smiled brightly and looked it over, stopping Imp from running off with a mental twitch; I was getting better at noticing when she wanted to go unseen – she meshed her mind with the Hive Mind to avoid my sight – which was good. No sense alerting the visitors, "You put down that I'm making Alchemical mead."

It was a project that I didn't expect to work, until Frida, with a knowing smirk, told me that she'd done such a thing several times in her youth… much to her late husband's delight.

As such, I'd used half of the first batch of honey to lay down seven barrels of mead; one ordinary, two flavored – snowberry and blackberry – while the remaining four were alchemical: one to heal, one to replenish magicka, one to renew a person's vigor – I was looking forward to that one; the Chaurus were quite a handful, with twenty commons and seven Hunters to care for – and, finally, a mead that cured diseases.

If everything went well, I'd have two bottles from each barrel; Bori, and several of Dawnstar's guards, agreed to try them out.

I prayed every night for those barrels to succeed. That project hinged on my greater plans for wealth and security, and if it succeeded…

"I-It's just a rough draft, Miss Khepri," blushed my steward, rubbing his jaw-length blonde hair, "For when you've got better equipment to work with."

I smiled at him, and handed the page back, "I'm not mad, Callidus. And you can say it: I won't be able to meet these demands," I waved my hand at the letters with a slight frown, "until I have a better climate to work in." Callidus nodded sadly in agreement, but still hummed in delight as he bit into his toast, which had honey spread on it.

The first pots of Dawnstar honey – officially "Khepri's Dawn Honey", according to the Iceberg Quarterly – while delicious, were more than a bit tangy on the tongue, due to the wide variety of flowers that went into making them. Everyone insisted that the sweetness more than made up for it, and the flowery tones as well, but I knew I could do better.

But to do better, I needed a better environment; the Pale wasn't meant for beekeeping.

Happily, I had options in the other Holds, especially Whiterun and Falkreath. But to take advantage of those options, I needed to succeed in Dawnstar. And I would, Zenithar willing.

So I smiled and finished my breakfast, washing it down with a glass of water. There was work to be done…

Bori was leading the two robed people up the Bay, toward my house, the – deliciously – hunky Nordic warrior following at a discrete distance. As they approached, I felt Skitter shiver in [anger] at the itchiness under her chitin. She was going to start changing soon, and I had visitors…

Not a problem. I could deal.

"Callidus, is everything prepared for observing Skitter's molt?" my steward nodded, so I rose and helped him stand, telling him, "We'll head over after meeting some visitors."

"Trouble?" he frowned, then smirked, "Oh, wait, if there was trouble, trouble would be screaming."

I laughed lightly as Callidus gathered the papers, journals and charcoal, then shrugged on my cloak and made for the door, a small smile on my face as I prepared to greet the new arrivals.

Who knew retirement would see me so busy?

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Farkas of the Companions kept his face carefully neutral as he loped along behind his employer, an Elven mage from the College of Winterhold. He was on the clock, and, in spite of the reason the two Elves were in Dawnstar, he didn't feel like rubbing shoulders with some beekeeper.

Instead, the young Nord kept his eyes peeled, looking for threats. Rumor had it that the beekeeper trained some Chaurus, who'd been guarding the town. Farkas had seen one, over near the mine, but it darted back into the depths before he could get a good look at it.

When he'd taken the job, Farkas thought it was going to be a walk-over; just escort a couple mages up through the forests of the southern Pale, get them to Dawnstar, then keep an eye on them until their business was concluded. Sure, they used magic, but they were… friendly, Farkas supposed. Especially the young Dark Elf girl.

He did wish, more than once while on the road, that the pair weren't so obsessed with their spells. The goldskin, Faralda or something, kept testing the Dark Elf on what she'd learned.

At least none of the magic was aimed at him, which was a step up from clubbing some bandits.

Farkas had been to Dawnstar before; it was only a small step up from Morthal, smell-wise, and a target for both bandit and pirate raids. Bright side: the mead was better than Markarth's or Iverstead's, and the women were much easier on the eyes than most other Hold capitals.

He hadn't been expecting everything to be so different.

The first thing was the fields of flowers and snowberries spreading south of the town, all the way to that tumbled ruin on the roadside… where a Spriggan Earth Mother was being entertained by a common spriggan. Both moved further away when they spotted Farkas and his charges, which was a relief.

Then the guards greeted them with: "Welcome to Dawnstar, cleanest beds in Skyrim!"

The upshot was that the beekeeper, Kep-Ree or something, got rid of all the bedbugs, fleas, lice, ticks and weevils. Plus, no flies or mosquitos were about.

The streets were cleaner, and the people seemed a lot happier than the last time Farkas came to the town, when Skjor and he dealt with some corpse-humping kidnapper last Frostfall.

If Farkas were a scholar – like his drunk of a little brother – he might've been more curious about the beekeeper.

Farkas didn't much care. He'd get the witch's measure when he saw her.

Presently, the Housecarl who'd been leading them stopped next to a set of steps, the last house before the bay turned into the coast of the sea. Before that worthy could open his mouth, the door opened; the blonde-haired knight of the Hold's moustached lips twitched in humor as he looked over his shoulder, "And here she is."

Farkas was close enough to make out a small crack on the door, so he got a good view of the girl as she left the house and stepped outside, her pretty face smiling warmly, if a bit shyly, at her visitors. A grizzly-hide cloak was over her shoulders, her right forearm was a plain wooden prosthetic, and the brown tunic she wore flattered her tall form.

What really drew Farkas' attention was her hair, a curly mane of black that framed her face and fell about her shoulders like black water.

"Miss Khepri," the Housecarl's voice brought Farkas' attention back to the present, "Allow me to introduce Master Faralda and Neophyte Brelyna Maryon of the College of Winterhold," both the Elves bowed respectfully as the woman they were here to see walked down the stairs, "and their hired bodyguard, Farkas of the Companions."

Farkas nodded curtly and grunted.

The woman, Khepri, smiled warmly and greeted them all, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Khepri the Beekeeper. How may I help you?"

And they were off, both the mages telling the slightly flustered woman that they were in Dawnstar to interview her, and maybe learn about the spell she used to control insects. Farkas was already bored, but kept looking around – a pair of Chaurus Hunters were looking around a corner of the house next to Khepri's.

Farkas kept an eye on them, but something Khepri said managed to make its way to his ears.

"…you see, I don't really know any magic, unless you count making potions."

One of the Hunters looked like it was going to try leaving the alley – it had a shawl around its shoulders, with a name on it: Imp – but the smaller Hunter poked it in the side and chittered quietly.

"But…" the High Elf looked lost, "but then, how do you do what you do?"

Farkas was a little interested himself; both the Chaurus nearby were acting like rascally pups, to his eyes.

Khepri shrugged and continued as a blonde-haired lad left her house, carrying several satchels filled with papers and books; her servant or something, "It's an entirely mental discipline. I give orders to the insects, and they follow them. I'm not completely certain how it works, see, and – Imp, Sophia, what are you two doing?"

The pair of Chaurus came rolling out from the alley, tussling and hissing; both stopped as Khepri snapped at them, the two Hunters staring at their master as both the College girls chuckled with the Housecarl.

"Ah, leave em alone," drawled Farkas, smirking at the two creatures – whose relatives he'd killed more than once, in his duties, "They were just playin', I think."

"Hmph," the black-haired lass tilted her head to one side and folded her arms, which meant she had a decent prosthetic, Farkas figured, "If they have time to play, they have time to finish clearing the greenhouse foundations," ah. Farkas understood, and folded his own arms as the smaller Hunter tried chittering something at Khepri, something the larger one, Imp, didn't like, as the bigger one tried to shove the smaller.

And stopped suddenly, before reversing course.

"And Imp, you should know better than to shove your little sister. Back to work you two, chop-chop, or no horker stew for lunch," both the Chaurus scrambled behind Khepri's house, their claws clattering the whole way as Farkas chuckled at their antics.

Khepri seemed to like his chuckle, if the smile and up-down glance she sent him were any indication.

It was Faralda who picked up on what Farkas had seen, and gushed, "Ah, I see now. You can mentally influence their actions. How far does it go? Can you-"

Thankfully, Khepri stopped the Elf from carrying on with a chuckle and a raised hand, "Please, there will be time to explain. You've actually caught me as I was about to observe one of the Chaurus going through a third change. You may accompany me, and I'll explain as we walk."

That went over well, and moments later Farkas was loping after the three chattering ladies. As their words were too quick to follow, he glanced at the Housecarl walking beside him… and asked a question that'd been bothering him, "Bori, right?"

"Aye."

"She control spiders too?"

The young man chuckled, "Aye. She keeps the Frostbites out of town," he pointed at the crags, "Little cave, high up. Apparently she's trying to harvest their webs for something-or-other. If it's anything like the honey, though…"

Farkas hummed and relaxed slightly. So long as she kept the spiders away from him…

The young Werewolf's eyes landed on the beekeeper's backside, which he could tell was swaying a bit under that cloak, as she and the young man who was carrying her things explained the workings behind the apiaries they'd just passed. Both the mages looked very distracted, so…

"That her husband or something?"

"Nah. That's Callidus, her steward," Bori shook his head, "Poor girl. Most of the lads around here don't want to annoy the Chaurus, if you follow me."

Farkas grunted, then looked over Khepri's glossy black mane.

She wasn't a witch or a mage, and quite easy on the eyes. He wondered if she needed anything delivered or killed; after all, she was running a business, and business in Skyrim could be brutal.

And Farkas knew all about brutal.

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He was looking at my ass, and apparently liked what he saw.

My smile grew as I explained the nuances of the Chaurus Hive Mind to a nodding, wide-eyed Faralda as we walked into the forest, heading for Skitter's den.

'I wonder if I can… convince… him to deliver the honey pots reserved for the Jarls…'

Musings for another time, alas. Skitter was about to change.