Originally Drafted: October 14th, 2022
Originally Uploaded: November 17th, 2022
Here's a bunch of excerpts that I couldn't write a "full" chapter with. But I thought they were good enough to at least show people.
Flight magic is one of many spells that mages commonly tend to use. Often used to traverse short distances, it is one of the more versatile spells in their arsenal. Such normalcy was displayed with their use of it within Halkeginia that they'd fail to account for how others would view it.
Moments after touching the ground, the young mage looked behind him to spot a gaggle of armored men marching towards him. Their steel armor glinted brightly as it reflected the sunlight.
Upon noticing that these men were the uniformed guards of the local township, he asked curiously. "What seems to be the problem officers?"
"You're in violation of the Levitation Act of 3rd Era 421. Pay the court a fine or serve your sentence!" The man declared.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"The Levitation Act, you fool!" the man yelled, frustrated "The use of Levitation spells is restricted severely."
"Officer, believe me, I wasn't aware!" The young mage responded, pleading in an attempt to dissuade him.
"Yes, yes. Tell that to the Court." Another guard said as he tied some bindings to the mage's hands.
"The nerve of you! Unhand me you rascals!" the mage bellowed, resulting in another guard applying a Paralysis spell on the protesting mage.
As the young mage flopped limply to the ground, his face froze in a visage of terror as his mind caught up with what happened.
The guards began to carry the now stiff and frozen man in a way not too dissimilar to how a dock worker would heft heavy loads onto port. A rather humiliating sight to be in.
All of this was observed by another mage as the events transpired.
Hidden underneath her black hood and robes, was a woman with green hair. Who had silently watched it all happen as she coincidentally had walked in just in time for the men to arrest the Tristainian, dragging him to the town's dungeon.
The woman sighed in disappointment at the sight. Realizing that the guards within the Empire were more adept at arresting mages than the ones in Tristain.
Her eyes glanced around her, looking for any more signs of incoming guards. Though she was a thief with a kleptomaniac tendency, she wasn't foolish enough to steal anything without assurance.
The street around her was clear, only the sight of the pedestrians and street vendors shouting over each other excitedly to sell their wares was to be found.
But for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise upon noticing a wanted poster. The Thief Mage hesitantly approached, and much to her relief and some mild disappointment. It wasn't about her.
Depicting a faceless Gray Cowl of a man, along with a sizable bounty that'd make any desperate fool seriously consider going after it. The name, "The Gray Fox" was printed upon it.
Seeing the possibility of having a fierce rival in this new world invigorated a sense of competition in her. Utterly captivated by the idea.
For so long she stared at the poster that she hadn't noticed a guard approaching her. The sounds of his metal boots went ignored by the woman.
"You've been eyeing that thing for ages, ma'am." The guard spoke in a thick Northern accent, reminiscent of those near the border to Skyrim.
Brought out of her trance she turned to look towards who had interrupted her. Momentarily shocked at the sight of a guard, but realizing he wasn't here to arrest her, she recomposed herself.
"I have? Well, it seems I've lost track of time then." The thief mage responded.
"Mhm, people were starting to think you were suspicious. What with the black hood and all that. People could've mistaken you for a thief." The guard pointed out.
The man's words caused her to appear nervous, arousing the man's suspicion.
"You aren't a thief, are you?" The guard asked.
The thief looked back upon the wanted poster. Though she was excited at the prospect of finding some purpose in this new world, away from the worries of her old life, no matter how painful that separation may have been. She realized she was in over her head at the moment.
Deciding not to indulge her lust for thievery, she replied: "Not in this country."
「Vallière Estate, Tristain」
Mid-Year, 4E171
Huddled over the resting form of a woman in Pink hair, was the Vallière family and a new guest they had just recently met.
Diplomatic visits to the other provinces within the Empire on behalf of Tristain by the Duke and Duchess had allowed the pair to meet new and unique characters.
One of them being the head of a local Temple dedicated to Kynareth near where their Estate had ended up.
The woman who was simply known as Jasir had volunteered upon hearing the pair's plight. Considering their daughter's seemingly incurable condition a challenge, she'd eagerly gotten to work.
"Are you sure this will work?" An anxious looking Duke, Centurion de la Vallière asked.
Jasir had been grinding away at some strange herbs and other alchemical ingredients for the past hour after inspecting their daughter's condition. Refusing to speak even a word during the time, caused the Duke to ask in worry.
"It should work, yes." Jasir said as she paused to look up and answer the Duke, promptly returning to work afterwards. "By the Nine, man! Don't worry. I've dealt with more severe cases than this." The Priestess of Kynareth assured him.
"Forgive me for being skeptical. But none of the other healers we've had over have been able to cure our daughter's… condition." The Duchess chimed in, looking as if she'd kill the Priestess with just her glares alone.
"Then I don't believe they've ever truly tried!" Jasir responded with a chuckle.
The Priestess went back to work on mixing her potion. Finishing up another as she had already produced several oddly colored bottles each varied from shades of green to red.
"What are you even making if I may ask?" Centurion wondered aloud.
To which the Priestess raised a near finished bottle to show him.
"The cure." She simply stated
The Duke and Duchess could only stare at it with mild fascination as the potion seemed to glow with life. The vibrant red hues, held within it the promise of finally giving Cattleya a proper lease on life.
Upon giving the potion to the sleeping form of their daughter, who seemed to glow in a brilliant display of an Alchemically induced Restoration effect. Things had soon turned quiet.
Thankfully, she came out unharmed. Her skin being a more noticeably healthy coloration compared to before.
"Do tell me how it turns out. I'm afraid I've still some Temple duties to return to." Jasir bade them goodbye as she left the Estate. Leaving just the parents and their daughter alone for the time being.
Karin all the while simply sat next to her daughter on her bedside. Stroking her hair gently as if she were a porcelain doll that would break at the tiniest infraction.
A warm smile plastered on her face, a rarity that Centurion hadn't seen in a while.
"You look happy." The Duke pointed out. Causing his wife to return to a more neutral expression.
Disappointing the man. Though he was glad she seemed to have softened up at this seeming miracle.
【White-Gold Tower, Imperial City】
At the very top of the ancient tower, one built by the Aldmeri eras ago. The Emperor stood and took in the sights. The sun, off in the horizon, began to set and gave the world a gentle warm glow. Enveloping it in its warmth for the final time in the day as the night crept up from behind.
For the Emperor, Titus Mede II. Moments like these were much appreciated. The twilight being as much of a representation for his life as well as his Empire.
An inheritor of a dying Empire. Titus couldn't help but think about the kind of legacy he'd leave behind. What a pitiful one it would be.
He wasn't a hero like St. Alessia, nor a conqueror like Tiber Septim. All he was was the man who could hardly keep his own provinces from squabbling behind each other's backs in spite of a looming threat from elsewhere.
His Empire, in comparison. Composed merely of Cyrodiil, High Rock, Skyrim and Hammerfell. A far cry from the whole continent spanning empires of his predecessors.
But perhaps, that may not be the case. Thinking back on the arrival of those otherworlders, especially the noble brat. He felt a smile crept up on him. Yes, perhaps he should leave the future for them to decide.
After all the rumors he'd heard from within his own council, of some of his own people's discontent. Perhaps he should leave the Empire in more capable hands. And he could think of one candidate already, the one who had shaken the world with but a simple spell.
"In a few years time, perhaps. I hope you change the world." He spoke to himself. Thinking of what was to come.
【Tristainia, Capital City】
12th of Mid-Year 4E171
The sight of several mages in foreign garbs stepping outside of their rented carriage wasn't an unusual one these days. Though their even more alien appearance definitely was strange to many of the native Tristainians.
Some stopped for a moment to gawk as they saw strange hooded figures. Their sharp angular faces were a clear sign of their inhuman nature. With only one of them who seemed to fit the definition of normal.
A green skinned man among them groaned out in frustration as he stepped foot upon the paved road of the city.
He gave a gruff noise as he saw the opulently designed vehicle that he had just spent days on. The sight of it was an affront to his senses in more ways than one.
"I swear if we have to spend another minute inside one of those uncomfortable things. I'm burning it down!" Remarked Urag Gro-Shrub as he violently shook his fist in the air.
His actions earned a chuckle from his other colleagues.
"Relax you grumpy bastard. We've finally arrived." His colleague, Tolfdir said.
"Do tell me, why are we here again?" Another added, a Dunmer mage by the name of Silas.
"Well, it's a chance to visit a foreign land and learn about their strange magic. Why wouldn't we be here?" Tolfdir responded all too eagerly.
"Because the old man, Savos Aren, signed off on this field trip." Another mage added, an Altmer woman by the name of Aelen "Be a shame to waste this opportunity."
"Right." Urag replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Come, you three. Let's not dawdle. I believe we have an appointment with one of the local mages." Tolfdir beckoned his other colleagues. The young Nord eager to start this bit of cultural exchange.
【Solitude, Skyrim】
1st of Sun's Height 4E171
Deep within Castle Dour, the most prominent outpost for the Imperial Legion within the province of Skyrim. A pair of Imperial agents began discussing their new acquisitions.
It was a well-lit room. Numerous tools and schematics were strewn about. It was the personal workshop of one Jagar Iron-Hand. Head of the rather underfunded Research and Development department within his branch of the Imperial Legion.
Though with recent events, things had gotten quite lively. Prompting them to be given a chance at perhaps increasing their budget should they show promising results.
Laid out before Jagar Iron-Hand was a foreign object. Upon first glance, it resembled some sort of crossbow. Its trigger mechanism was one of the few familiar pieces he could identify.
"Where did you say you got this from?" Jagar asked his contact, a Redguard man by the name of Khamsin.
"Bought it from a Khajiit Caravan down south. I figured you would be interested in it." Khamsin replied, looking bored all the while.
"Hmm. I can take a guess at how this weapon works. But what did you say you load these with?" Jagar asked.
"These." Khamsin said as he procured several black balls and a bag of powder from his person.
"Intriguing." Jagar said as he hummed in thought.
The pair began sketching out the details of its design. Looking for ways to improve or simplify some of the parts on it.
"Really reminds me of an advanced crossbow." Jaguar said as he looked over the notes he'd written down.
"Or a miniature cannon." Khamsin added.
"Right, I forget your people dabbled in, what was it called again, gunpowder?"
"That's right."
Jagar hummed in thought. His mind began formulating plans on how to use these for the Empire's benefit.
"What was the problem with those anyway?" Jagar asked, he always thought it was a shame that development on those things never seemed to go anywhere.
"Too heavy. Unwieldy to use in most situations aside from naval operations." Khamsin clarified.
"Yet, these… Tristainians? They managed to make a man-portable version."
"That they did."
Jagar grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"You don't pay me to think." Khamsin added, a slight jab at their current situation.
Causing Jagar to bellow in a strong and booming laugh. "True, true." He said through his laughter.
"But, no. What if we," he pointed to the weapon. "Began enchanting them?"
"Now there's the million Septim question!" Khamsin added.
The pair of schemers said. Not knowing that their actions today would affect the course of warfare for years to come.
Author's Notes: Nothing to add here really.