The year is 201 of the Fourth Era.

Alduin, aspect of Akatosh, first and king of the dragons, has torn free of a wound in time and aims to resurrect his fallen brethren. He feeds on those that die in Skyrim's ongoing civil war, growing ever stronger, as his kin sew chaos across the realm. It is the end times.

However, in accordance with prophesies of old, one has emerged with the power to consume the souls of these dragons. He is the Dragonborn; another aspect of Akatosh who has arisen in the world's time of need to defend it.

He rides to the summit of the Throat of the World, to High Hrothgar, to learn from the Greybeards there how to master his incredible innate power in the Voice. His mission is simple: to seek out Alduin and slay him. If he fails, Alduin will conquer the entirety of Skyrim, and from there, the entirety of Mundus.

But none of our protagonists give a toss about any of that.

Dulurza has become Thane of Solitude, yet is struggling to stay focused on her assassination mission when faced with how cute Elisif looks in that dress this morning.

Hjar's conflict with the wolf inside her grows, and worse, she languishes in Cidnah Mine. Now she has to attempt to restore ties with the Forsworn (her Forsworn kill count, at this point, is in the double digits) as she tries to ensure the safety of a woman she really ought to see as an enemy.

Alexander was so relieved after his liberation of Azura's star, and excited by his chance to finally become a distinguished magical author, that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be on a noble quest for extra-dimensional time wizards.

L'laarzen is embroiled in a tale of betrayal, greed, and revenge, as her esteem in the Thieves Guild grows. She is still trying really hard to not be a criminal, no matter how fantastic at crime she may be.

These are the Four Walking Disasters, and this is their story.

Act II: Uncovering Truth

Meeting Expectations

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"What in Auriel's name are you doing?"

Was not an outburst Alexander Meteuse had really expected to hear at that moment. He made a "mmf?" noise and turned in his chair to look behind him. His desk was covered in books, parchment, and one very particular soul gem. His mouth was latched onto the bottom corner of a sweet roll, his chin was covered in crumbs, and his eyes blinked up innocently.

The man (who had earlier introduced himself as Quaranir) looked down at him with no small amount of scorn, crossing his arms over his gold Psijic robes. "Don't make me ask again."

"Mr-hrr." Xander replied, around his sweet roll, and gestured to what he was writing.

"Right, your thesis on Saarthal." Quaranir pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your destiny is greater than this, young mage. What you desire cannot be found through quiet study."

"Mrrph!" Xander made a very indignant noise, as if that statement had somehow personally offended him.

"The danger only rises while you sit and wait." Quaranir scolded him. "Even now, the forces arrayed against you continue to grow, and your window for victory shrinks by every passing-" (Xander nodded, continuing to slowly chew through the sweet roll,) "Will you stop that!" Quaranir snarled.

Xander froze, then guiltily took the treat out of his mouth, swallowing. He let go of it in midair, and it floated there, time frozen for all but the two of them.

"Look, just-" Quaranir sighed. "Go ask someone about the Augur of Dunlain. He has your next quest hook."

"Right. Of course." Xander nodded. "The Augur of Dunlain. Dunlain's Augur. That Augur-"

"I know you don't know who he is." Quaranir bit out. "Just...just go, okay? Remember when I said that you would be judged based on your actions to come? This is me judging."

"Yeah, but you were being really vague." Xander pointed out. "I thought finding the big blue ball was the whole thing. Wait, this quest doesn't get any harder than the invincible zombie, right?"

Quaranir stood there a moment, then just walked out of the room.

Time returned to normal. The sweet roll fell onto the floor, and promptly rolled into an ink-spill he'd left there earlier.

That was amusing. Echoed a feminine voice.

"And here I thought that me getting a start this early in the morning counted as being productive-yeah, 'amusing' is one word." Xander groaned, stood up, and stretched. "And by the way, how come you're talking to me? I've never heard anyone mention 'hey, Azura will occasionally strike up telepathic conversation with the person carrying her star'."

Most people's souls don't take a trip through said star before they get to carry it. Azura pointed out. Besides, you entertain me.

"Right. Any idea what that guy was on about?"

Oh, absolutely. But it would be no fun for me to simply tell you.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll go ask Tolfdir or something..."

A few minutes later, Ancano stormed through the doorway into Alexander's quarters, face livid. "Apprentice!" He snapped, "A member of the Psijic order was here looking for you! You are to accompany me at once to-"

"Not right now, already sorted it, busy, see you later-" Xander, carrying his staves and travel pack, barged right past the high elf without even making eye contact with him.

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There was a decent amount of buzz when Dulurza walked into Mor Khazgur. Made sense, it had been more than a few weeks since she'd left on her mission. Bagrak called out "Dulurza has returned!" As she entered, meriting a brief cheer from everyone else within the walls. A few came up to her with more direct greetings, and she responded in kind; heartily clasping forearms with Sharamph, and picking up one of the younger children and swinging her around, meriting a squeal of glee.

Dulurza found she had a wide, genuine smile on her lips as she made her way over to the chief's hut in the centre of the settlement. I've missed this.

That smile only got wider when she saw the woman on guard outside the hut.

"Borgakh!" Dulurza shouted, and "Sister!" Borgakh 'the Steel Heart' threw both her arms out, and the two Orcs crashed into each other with a hug.

"How you been, little sis?" Borgakh asked, squeezing.

"Little?" Dulurza shouted in mock outrage, breaking off and looming as hard as she could. "I'm half a head taller than you!"

"I was born first. I'm big, you're little. How fast you grew doesn't even factor." Borgakh chuckled, slapping her on one shoulder pad. "I take it you're headed in to see the chief?"

"Aye." Dulurza nodded. "How's he doing?"

"Stressed." Borgakh shrugged. "Grumpy. But when isn't he? Nothing's been able to knock him down before, I'm sure he'll manage."

"Hmph. Well, hopefully I'll be able to cheer him up." Dulurza walked past, pushing open the door.

"What, good news?" Borgakh called after her.

Dulurza paused, and grinned. "Pretty good news, yeah."

"Thane?" Chief Larak repeated, sat in his chair. It wasn't a throne, just the chair at his desk, something that was notably different to the Blue Palace. Orc Chiefs were supposed to be able to maintain their status without such symbols, and Larak certainly managed it; he was the only one in the camp that still loomed over Dulurza. "So what does it mean?"

"Right-hand, of a sort." She explained, sat across from him. "I protect her, and go out and complete tasks in her name. I represent her, represent Solitude. And it means I can go just about anywhere, get away with just about anything." Dulurza smirked. "She trusts me."

"Good!" Larak leaned forwards, clapping her on the shoulder. "I knew I could trust you with this. You continue to prove yourself to be the pride of Mor Khazgur."

Dulurza did not blush. Such would be unbecoming of a warrior. But she did feel the need to lower her head. "Thank you, chief."

"The praise is deserved, daughter." The switch to familial language wasn't lost on her, as her father leaned backwards. "But there were complications, you mentioned?"

"There were. The court wizard was a vampire, trying some nasty witch tricks." Dulurza wrinkled her nose up. "She mentioned something before I ended her. Something about the Thalmor having plans for the city."

"Hmph." Larak grunted. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"You sure?" Dulurza warned. "If the Elves have plans for Solitude, then we might have to-"

"I said don't worry." He cut her off, eyes hard. "And that's enough about it. We don't have to be concerned about the Thalmor, trust me."

"...Right." Dulurza nodded, after a moment. "And the Jarl...we have to kill her?"

"Have to?" Larak laughed, the seriousness leaving his face. "It's the whole reason you're there!"

"Aye, but I've been thinking." Dulurza explained. And she had been thinking. Ever since she had very consciously and deliberately saved Elisif's life, she'd been thinking. "What if we kidnapped her instead? I can pull that off, I'm certain. If I did, we could ransom her, or order Solitude to surrender-"

"We aren't looking to negotiate with the Man-city. We're going to sack it." Larak reminded her. "Leave the capital of Nord Skyrim in shambles and assert our dominance over the land that we deserve. I thought you understood this?"

"I do! It's just-"

"Are you worried you won't get your fair share of glory?" He asked, with a chuckle. "Don't be. After you've pasted your axe red with that bitch's blood, you and I will lead the charge on the city together."

Dulurza's hands tightened on the arms of her chair. "Right." She bit out. "Together."

"You alright, lass?" He asked, noticing her distress. "You've been preoccupied our whole talk. Focusing too hard on the long fight?"

Dulurza sighed, and stood up. Dammit. This trip was supposed to get rid of the doubts, not make them worse. "No, I'm fine. Just remembered I have to get back to the city before last light."

"They want you present for some council?"

"Not exactly." Dulurza turned to the door, reaching back with one hand to touch the hilt of her new axe. "I'm handling an execution."

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Hjarnagredda had decided that Cidnah mine was the worst place in the world, and if she had to spend too long in it without a break she would end up killing everyone around her and then herself. As if my teamkill count wasn't high enough...

She'd never liked enclosed spaces, even when she was a kid, and then when the Lycanthropy had took hold that phobia had gotten even worse. She was not a woman meant for caves. Cidnah was worse than your ordinary dark, dank hole, however.

The air was dry, leaving her throat parched and rough, and it tasted of blood, sweat, smoke, and iron. Or rather, not iron: silver. It amazed her that there was so much of the stuff left, cold veins of it shimmering in the dim torchlight and cracking beneath the constant hammering of pickaxes. That was another problem. There were dozens of people in here all constantly striking away at the metal ore, crack after crack that echoed out through the caverns and left her ears perpetually ringing. Did they ever stop? They had to sleep sometime, right? Without the sun or moon, Hjar couldn't even guess what time it was, so for all she knew they just kept on mining in shifts, all throughout the night. Clanging and clanging away until her bones shook in rhythm with their arms.

And then, of course, there were the walls. Sharp, angular, dusty, that would give you a cut and an infection all in one if you so much as brushed against them wrong. And oh, was that easy, with how close you had to hug them just to fit through some of the passages. Everywhere she looked, every time she turned her back, it seemed there was a wall in the way, trapping her. Hundreds of miles of stone above, below, and around her, constantly pressing in on her to the point where her breathing sped up and she thought she might be suffocating-

Come on, Hjar, there was so much righteous determination when you walked in here. Where's all that gone now?

The voice sounded a lot like the remnants of her common sense, and she staunchly ignored it.

Instead, she focused her attention on the only reason she was in here. "Alright, grandfather. Explain to me how on Mundus you're still alive."

"Heh. That's an easy one: Weakness." Madanach chuckled, lowering himself into a seat opposite her. Despite his age, his posture was straight, and his eyes were sharp. "I told the Nords if they left me alive, I'd keep the Forsworn under control, stop them from causing trouble in the city. And then they only went and agreed. Idiots. If I'd been in their position I'd've stuck my head on a pike, pickled it, and staked it outside the city gates as an example." He grinned at her. "But of course, you already know about what I'm doing in here. I understand you've been doing quite some detective work in my city."

"Your city?" Hjar raised an eyebrow, accepting the ale he offered her and using it to wet her parched throat. "From what I saw, the Silver-Bloods own the city. You are hiding in a cave like some common skeever."

"I'm exactly where I need to be." He gestured to his room, arms taking in the bed, his desk, and all the writing on it. "From here, I can affect anything in the city. If I want someone discredited, robbed, killed? All I have to do is pick up a pen."

"A power which you lend to the man keeping you here, when he asks for it." Hjar leveled her gaze at him. "Since when did the Forsworn murder innocent women in the streets?"

"We don't go after innocents. Don't need to. In this city, there's so many guilty going around it's hard to see an innocent through the throng." Madanach spat on the floor. "Ask around, if you wanna know more about what they've done. And besides, it's awful rich of you to call us murderers. Or what would you call what you did to Nepos?"

"I didn't know what Nepos was," Hjar lied, "and I didn't attack him. It was the other way around." That part, at least, was true.

"Either way, you left a real mess." Madanach scrutinised her. "People were saying it was like a great wild animal went through there."

"One did." Hjar replied. She'd prepared for this. "A great white wolf. We were outnumbered and I needed to even the field." She smiled, when he made a confused face. "What, never heard of the 'summon familiar' spell?"

"Ah." He vocalised, relaxing slightly. Hjar did too, to an extent. That's that part dealt with, at least, and it might net me a little leeway in the future, should I need to let loose and it leaves more evidence...

Of course, only so much leeway. Hircine's cursed ring hung heavily on her finger, and the wolf paced angrily in her gut. Before, she'd been confident she could hold for a week between transformations. Now...she just didn't know. But she did know that if she didn't get a way out soon, it wouldn't matter how longs she could control herself. The beast always got out eventually, and there was no room to hide in Cidnah mine.

"So why are you here?" Madanach asked her. "I haven't seen you since you were a babe. I can only imagine you were managing perfectly fine in one of the camps on the outside, why make your way into the city and cause a racket like this?"

Hjar sighed, looking away. "You've missed a lot. I split off from my camp a couple years ago."

"You abandoned your family?" He looked about to start a rant, but she forestalled him with "They're dead. Mom and Dad. When I was fifteen or so, it's...one of the reasons I left."

All that was true too, in a way. Her mother had gone down fighting in a raid, and a few days later her father had gone out hunting, and never returned. They hadn't found his body, but hadn't expected to. Grief was grief, and such things were common when the bond between man and wife was strong enough. Of course, without them, even more eyes had turned to Hjar to step up to the plate, put in her fair share of work. Her prayers to Hircine had only increased from then on.

"Shame." Was all Madanach said, lowering his head. "Greta was a good lass. One of the best things that ever happened to me."

"I came back to Markarth to reconnect." Hjar explained, "Originally. But right now I have more pressing issues. I'm here for the woman I was investigating with."

"The redhead?" Madanach snorted. "That's who you were shouting about when you came in? You know she's the enemy-"

"She's mine." Hjar growled, then bit down on her tongue to try and get a grip. Easy girl... "I heard she was brought here. If you tell me she's dead, I will not be happy."

"You need a better grasp on what's important, Hjarnagredda." He told her coldly. For a moment, panic flashed inside her, but then he said "She's not dead. At least, not that I know of. She was in Cidnah for questioning, aye, but she didn't stay long. She's a prisoner of the Silver-Bloods personally, now, which means she'll be locked up in one of their homes. Maybe even the keep itself."

"Perfect." Hjar muttered, standing up, "So I'm not even where I'm supposed to be. How do I get out?"

"Get out?" Madanach snorted. "Nobody escapes Cidnah Mine. Especially not when they've pissed off the owners to the level you have."

"Well I'm not spending my whole life just sitting in here!" Hjar protested, but-

"Neither am I." Madanach told her. There was a gleam in his eyes. "You've made it quite clear that my current position isn't any good way to lead my people. But things are moving upstairs as well. For the first time in years the Silver-Bloods are making some odd moves...leave it with me. You'll get your chance to get out. For now, I'd recommend you talk to the other inmates. Each one of them has a story, Hjarnagredda. Plenty just as sad as yours."

"Sit and wait. Wonderful." Hjar sighed again, and moved to leave.

"Granddaughter?" He called, stopping her. She turned to look at him, and he smiled. "Good to have you back."

Despite everything, she smiled too. "Good to be back." Let's hope this time, I can stay.

She walked out, leaving his gate-door to clatter shut behind her.

8˂

"And then they just...shared me around!" Sapphire cried. "Like I was...like I was nothing! I had to just sit there meekly for a fortnight and endure it!"

"Oh, poor thing..." L'laarzen crooned, fingers shaping the girl's hair as gently as possible. Twenty minutes ago, Sapphire had been the most quiet, sullen, stone wall of a thief in the entire guild. And now she was pouring her heart out. Amazing, what a non-judgmental ear could do. "But this one was able to escape, yes?"

"I was." Sapphire nodded, fists tightening in her lap. "They got complacent with me. I found a dagger, and slit all their throats as they slept."

"Oh, ruthless." L'laarzen said, making sure her tone was approving.

"You're not..." Sapphire didn't seem to know what to say.

"Disappointed? Upset?" L'laarzen chuckled. "While she prefers to avoid it herself, Khajiit knows full well that violence is often necessary. Bandits and ravagers are far from the kindest individuals in Skyrim. You will find no scorn here."

"Thanks." Sapphire relaxed, which made it much easier for L'laarzen to finish her cut. "It's...good to finally get it off my chest."

"Holding such memories inside can be a very heavy burden." L'laarzen agreed. "Khajiit would know."

"...Do you have those kinds of memories?" Sapphire asked, hesitantly.

"Some." L'laarzen smiled, sadly. "But Khajiit has a strong back, and will be able to carry them for a long while yet. Ah, but this one never told Khajiit her real name?"

"Oh, yeah." Sapphire realised. "I didn't, did I? Well...I've never said this to anyone else, but-"

"Hey! Khajiit!"

L'laarzen's ears pricked in annoyance, as her customer jumped up out of her chair so fast she stumbled over the nearby table.

Mercer Frey walked into L'laarzen's guild quarters, expression as cold as it always was.

"Guildmaster." Sapphire inclined her head. "We were just, uh,"

"You're a Nord, correct, Sapphire?" Mercer asked.

"I-Yes?"

"So when I said Khajiit, did you assume I was referring to you?"

Sapphire looked down, blushing. "Well, no, I didn't-"

"Then take the hint. Scram."

Sapphire nodded, tossed five septims to L'laarzen, and gave Frey a wide berth on her way out. L'laarzen exhaled, and put her scissors down. And now, her hair will be looking uneven until I can get to her to finish it... "Mercer!" She beamed up at him. "Always a pleasure!"

"Glad to hear it." He replied, with a smile that made it clear he knew damn well she was lying to him. "Pack your things. You and me are doing a job together."

Now, that was interesting. "To do with Karliah, I presume?"

"You presume correct." Mercer moved in and leaned on the chair Sapphire had just vacated. "You said she was 'going back to where it all began'. I only know one place that could mean. Snow Veil Sanctum. The place where she killed Gallus. And now we know where she is, we can go and kill her."

"Odd, that she would mutter such a clue in Gulum-Ei's earshot." L'laarzen warned. "This could be a misdiretion, or a trap."

"It's definitely a trap." Another smile, this one vicious. "Me, Karliah and Gallus were the old guard, the backbone of the guild, we worked together for years. If she kills me, there won't be anyone with a chance of stopping her."

Something was off about that logic, but L'laarzen put the thought away for now. "And you would like L'laarzen to accompany you? Why?"

"Well, you're the guild's rising star, aren't you?" He chuckled. "Certainly making a name for yourself. I want to take a look at how you work for myself."

Do not reveal any personal tricks on this mission, understood.

He left the chair, walking back to the door. "I'll meet you there." He told her. "Snow Veil is up near Winterhold, anyone in the nearby area will be able to point you to it."

Winterhold. Chilly. If L'laarzen hires a horse she should be able to make it there by tomorrow morning- "And make sure you get there fast." He said. "I don't like being made to wait." ...Or, Khajiit could walk. Take the scenic route. There are some lovely landmarks to visit on the way.

"Understood." She replied, inclining her head.

"Oh, one other thing." He turned back to her. "I have been told that you don't like violence, and refuse to kill. Is that true?"

"L'laarzen prefers to avoid it, yes." She replied. Her eyes narrowed, and she let just a little intent bleed out. "But her rules do not apply to contract breakers, or traitors. And this Karliah appears to have done both."

Mercer seemed satisfied with what he saw. He nodded once more, and left the room.

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Xander was bloody freezing, and he regretted every choice he'd ever made.

"Hey, let's build our wizard school in the coldest part of Skyrim! Hey, let's build a cellar in the bottom of that wizard school where we keep our secret magic stuff, and let's send the apprentices down there on fetch quests! Screw you Tolfdir! The walls are made out of ice!"

The walls echoed at his shout (not because it was a Shout, he was just complaining really loudly) but there wasn't a reply.

Of course not.

He'd only been wandering for two hours.

"Bet the Dragonborn would have found him by now." Xander muttered. "Bet he's met fifty Augurs already. Just by accident in between dragon slays. Slayings? Hunts? Bet he doesn't have to hunt, bet dragons just show up to come see him, unlike Augurs to Me."

His breath fogged in front of him, and he pulled his robes tighter around himself and scowled.

Not for the first time, he considered pulling his flame staff off his back and shooting it at his feet.

Not for the first time, common sense reminded him that he was carrying a torch, and that refilling staff enchantments cost money. An enchantment to magically heat your robes...note to self, work on that.

"Okay, for real this time!" He shouted, not in any particular direction. "Mister Augur? Missus Augur? Tolfdir didn't give me a pronoun I shouldn't assume...Gender Nonspecific Of-Dunlain? If you're there, could you maybe just, reply?"

There was an ominous click.

Xander looked left, to where a door (that had been locked on his first pass through the area, he was sure of it) slowly creaked open. A blue glow emanated from behind it.

Did you actually expect that to work? Asked Azura from his hip.

"Not at all. Shut up."

Xander walked through the doorway.

Behind it was a small corridor, which opened up into an (also small) cylindrical room, its design very similar to that of the central rooms in the college above. It even had one of those weird glowing well things.

Floating in the centre of the room...oh. Oho. Xander had absolutely no idea what was floating in the centre of the room.

"There is no solace in knowing what is to come." Said the glowing, translucent blue sphere, hovering above the floor. "Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment. Your persistence is admirable, yet you-"

"What on Mundus are you?" Xander gaped up at it, wide eyed.

"I am the Augur of-"

"No no no, what are you? You're not a Daedra, not if you're permanently stuck here in this form, you're not an aedra, too lucid, you're not a ghost, at least not a normal one, you'd take the form you took in life, you're...is this an illusion? Are you a magical construct being puppeted by someone upstairs?"

"I am my own being." The Augur replied. "And I will not yield my secrets to such simple questioning."

"Yeah, but...you could~?" Xander gave one of his patented winning smiles.

"I'm afraid not." It said, quite simply, meriting a pout. "There are many like you, in the college. Such burning curiosity. You desire knowledge, and you take every possible shortcut to find it."

"So? There is honour in pursuit of knowledge." Xander retorted, quoting one of his personal mantras. "It's not a bad thing to do."

"There is honour in discovering fundamental truth. Honour in making knowledge. But none in simply claiming that of others. If the student reads the hidden works of his master, he may know the answers. But he will not have asked the question, spent the time attempting to understand. The journey is essential to the destination."

"Yeah, but what's the alternative, waste time doing what's already been done?" Xander replied. "Waste thirty years creating a spell that someone's already created when I could spend that time making a new one? I'm hardly going to run out of mysteries. The world is so big, I mean, if we spent all our time discovering what people had already discovered, we'd never make any progress!"

"Yet has any progress been made?" The Augur asked. "Do you believe that mage students today are any stronger than they were centuries ago? How much knowledge is lost, burned, hidden from era to era?"

Xander blinked. "Well...a lot, I'll admit. But we're working on getting it back!"

"Precisely. Children's heads are filled with stories of the great mages of the past. They are taught to go and seek those out, rather than make their own discoveries. To hoard magical artefacts, to receive their own boost into legend from learning some great spell, left in a dungeon by a long dead wizard. 'Greatness is in the past', the mages of today are told, 'go forth and rediscover it'."

Xander frowned, and thought about it. "You're saying the same thing's happening here..." he looked up towards the ceiling. "The Eye. Everyone's abuzz over it. Heck, before we had it, the mages were looking through Saarthal for knowledge about the magics of the past...you think we're going about the search the wrong way?"

"You listen." The Augur said, sounding appreciative for the first time. "There, you do more than most. The Thalmor who came before you had no such patience for my wisdom."

Xander thought for a moment about that tidbit, then decided it wasn't important. "So what's the solution? How do we get better?"

The glowing blue sphere was silent.

"Ugh. Right, I have to figure it out myself." Xander rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Okay, so...why do people hide knowledge from each other? One, because it's dangerous. You don't want novices trying to use the spells that summon unbound Dremora or drain people's life force. Two...competitive advantage. If you're the only one who knows a helpful spell, everyone has to come pay you if they want you to use it. And if it's harmful, then being the only one who knows how it works means nobody else can turn it on you or work out how to stop it."

He frowned. "And because it's faster to chase down other peoples' cool spells than make your own...society's caught in a constant loop of finding and losing the same stuff. Huh, you're right. I mean, they've changed up how they define the schools of magic a few times, some spells have gone in and out of fashion, I'm pretty sure the novice and apprentice healing spells have become more streamlined over time, but other than that? Not much has changed in...ever. And organisations like the Psijic Order that hoard all their crazy stuff to themselves aren't helping!"

Quaranir, if he was listening, didn't answer.

"And your solution?" The Augur asked, impassively.

"Well, issue one is perfectly valid." Xander admitted. "If evil mages are caught in a constant cycle trying to find a new 'end the world' spell, then great. As for issue two...someone'll have to take the loss. Develop a teleportation spell and then not keep it to themselves." He grit his teeth. "No, wait. Even if that makes things easier for the world, it's not going to improve our overall knowledge of magic in any way. Same if people share their new murder-spells, it doesn't help if there's a new, more efficient way to violence each other. What we need is a new fundamental way of looking at things. Focusing on learning the rules, not just making new spells. Then explaining how we did it, making it reproducible, sharing that knowledge with other people in the hopes that they share what they learn back..."

"It would not be enough for one mage to attempt the practice." The Augur told him. "It would require organisation. A group, wherein members could access the information the others had attained so long as they were willing to share their own."

"And one of the big magical institutions would have to spearhead it," Xander nodded, "So that once they had enough hoarded up, others would want to enter the group to get in on the extra knowledge...somewhere like the college of Winterhold."

There was a pause.

"The staff of Magnus." The Augur stated.

"Uh, come again?"

"To see through Magnus' eye without being blinded, you will require his staff."

"Magnus? That thing is an artifact of the Magnus?" Xander pointed upwards, gaping. "That's...wow. Not Aedric, then. Magna-Ge. Crap, I owe Tolfdir five septims...wait, why are you telling me this now?"

"You have demonstrated a willingness to think. To change your mind." The Augur replied. "You, a simple liar, are more awake than anyone else who has come to me."

"Hey! That's not-"

"Do not seek to ply your trade with me. You have all the magical power of a soggy cream treat." Xander's posture visibly sagged as though to match the description, as the Augur continued. "However...you are what the college needs. The path you walk is good and true, and so I am willing to help you. Speak with Mirabelle Ervine about finding the staff of Magnus. You will require it in times ahead, and attempting to discern the secrets of the Eye without it would be...unwise."

"Noted. Thank you for your help." Experienced enough with authority to know when he was being dismissed, Xander turned to leave.

He paused at the doorway however, looking back. "Do you...not think I can be a mage?"

"Such is only a label." Was the Augur's response. "You can only ever be yourself. There is nothing you can become that you are not capable of, and nothing you are capable of that you cannot become."

"Inspirational." Xander deadpanned. "What does it mean."

"Ask yourself what being a mage means. And then stop moping around doing philosophy, and do what you believe a mage should do."

The light dimmed, as the Augur's form disappeared.

"Got it. First step is to be a cryptic asshole." Xander sighed, turning back to the exit. "Right. Now, can I remember the way out..."

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE ARE BACK IN BUSINESS!

Here I go with the first chapter of Arc II of this shipwreck. After taking a long time to sit back and really think about things, I can proudly state that I still have little more than a vague outline of the long term plot of this thing. So, you know. Hey, I'll probably be able to make it look like I knew what was going on the whole time.

As stated in the chapter that briefly existed in the 12 slot prior to this one, sorry it took me so long to get around to continuing. Once again, you'll get ten (ish) weekly chapters until the end of this arc, before another hiatus of an unknown length. I doubt it'll be half a year this time though. Again, not really much else for me to do at the moment...

Next Time: Someone gets a noble drunk, someone isn't that happy with violence, and someone gets hired for a fight.

(I guarantee you won't be able to guess which 'someone' is which...)