Facing the Music

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Hjarnagredda's breath came out in pants, clouds of mist forming before her snout and then dissipating. Her white fur was completely covered in blood, and for perhaps the first time, some of it was probably hers. There had been a lot of smashy and pointy things directed at her after all, some must have gotten through. But there were also a lot of bodies. Many, many bodies. Suffice to say, Hjar wasn't feeling very hungry anymore. But the bloodlust was still there.

She turned to the one person remaining in the room, and stalked threateningly towards them.

This person was also breathing in pants, and was also covered in blood. One of their arms was bent at an odd angle, and their nose was broken.

Still, good eating.

A growl rose in Hjar's throat as she pressed towards them, eyes focusing on their long red hair-

Red hair.

"Hjar?" Said the person, hesitantly. "You still in there? I get that you're probably on a bit of a rush right now, me too, but if we could maybe come down from that..."

Oh, right.

It was a Margret. Margrets were friends, not food.

Hjar blew out a long breath, and let herself shrink. The wolf curled back up in her stomach, and her body returned to its normal proportions. Her fur, bearing in mind it was covered in blood, didn't fall off around her so much as stick to her, leaving her with an icky red coating that preserved at least some of her modesty. She grabbed a clean-ish rag of someone's clothing from somewhere on the floor and rubbed it across her face a few times, cleaning that blood off so she could see.

Then she smiled guiltily at Margret. "So." She said. "There was that one time when I said I'd come back when I knew you could trust me. And I think this sort of proves we're at that point, I mean, that was basically the worst possible scenario for chance of friend-eating and I-"

Margret's lips crashed into hers, and she shut up.

Oh. Okay, that's...that's good. Glad I wasn't imagining that first one.

The romance of the moment was ruined somewhat by the fact that all Hjar could really taste was blood, and when Margret's hands released her shoulders they came away sticky and red. But Hjar was still never going to forget it.

"Thank you." Margret breathed. "For saving my life."

"Thank you." Hjar insisted. "For making me into someone who would."

They stared silently at each other for a few seconds.

Then Margret's lip quirked upwards. "Guess we just proved right all the people who called us girlfriends."

"Oh, Hircine, we did..."

They both laughed, and the sound echoed around the now-silent hall.

Eventually, Hjar turned, trying to take in the carnage. "Okay...oh, now I'm human again this is making me a little sick. Who did we get?"

"Madanach and Thonar for certain." Margret replied, walking up beside her. "No idea if Logrolf could have survived the chunk you tore out of him, but I don't see his corpse in here. Urgoza either, for that matter." She glanced sideways. "At least some of both sides fled out the door towards the end."

The brass entryway was hanging open, swinging slightly in the breeze from outside. Bells were ringing in the city, and beyond the walls, the sky could be seen turning from dark to a light blue. A new day was dawning, and it was dawning on chaos.

"So...I was operating largely on idealist grounds in there." Hjar admitted. "And it's only just now occurring to me that I've murdered the leaders of every major faction in the city in one night."

"Yeeeeeeeah..." Margret agreed. "We should...probably not be here much longer."

"Agreed." Hjar turned to face her, and after a moment, held both her hands out. "And I think you once said something about your mission being bust if law and order came crashing down completely, which I think it's fair to say it's probably about to."

"So?" Margret raised an eyebrow.

"So." Hjar gulped. "Considering that I am a naked, blood-splattered, emotionally unstable, newly-allegiance-less werewolf with nothing to my name but debts to two Daedric princes, a debt to a group of murderers, and no functioning self preservation instinct...would you like to run away with me?"

"Hjar." The way Margret's face lit up made the sun look dim. "I thought you'd never ask."

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"...ander! Alexander!"

Xander was jolted out of his reverie by the voice, and shook his head to try and clear the dancing numbers and figures from his eyes. It was difficult to keep his arms aloft, which was bad because that was what was keeping the staff pointing at its target. He turned away from the Eye of Magnus, which was slowly beginning to calm down, and squinted though the spots in his vision at the people gathered behind him. They weren't the masters, at some point the door outside had slammed shut. No, gathered in the room was a quartet of elves in pale yellow robes. Psijic monks.

"Oh, hey, Quaranir!" He shouted over the din the Eye was still making. "Good to see you! Just give me a few minutes here-"

"Congratulations, mage." Quaranir continued, apparently content to ignore him. "You have succeeded, as we knew you would. However, the Eye has grown unstable."

"Uh, yeah? Duh?" Xander turned back to it and went back to his business. "I'm trying to fix it!"

"You're-" Quaranir blanched. "What? No, don't do that! Let the Psijic Order take care of it, otherwise it risks-"

"Oh, no you don't!" Xander shot back. "Have you seen this thing? I'm not trusting you lot with it until I've got it under control!"

"I'm sorry, 'us lot'?" Quaranir looked genuinely offended. "The Psijjc Order has stood for centuries! Our wisdom in matters of the arcane is unparalleled!"

"Oh yeah? Well I've been staring into the heart of the Aetherius for hours now!" Xander retorted. "Frankly I think I have you beat!"

Quaranir put a hand to his forehead. "It's been two and a half minutes, Xander." He sighed.

"Oh." Had it really? He'd been so caught up in the connections, in the physics, in the energy, the concept of time had flown right out the window. With the amount of calculations he'd had the Staff doing, all running through his head as they were completed, he wouldn't have been surprised to find days had passed. "Well then you can wait another thirty seconds for me to finish here!"

"He does have a point." One of the other Psijics piped up.

"Really, Nerien?" Quaranir turned to him. "Right now?"

"I'm just saying, the boy may as well have read an Elder Scroll for all the eldritch goodies that'll be running through his head."

One of the others piped up with "Oh, I bet an hour of stargazing that he goes crazy!"

"I'll take that bet!" Called the final one.

"Tandil, Gelebros, shut it." Quaranir snapped. "Come on, guys, we're Psijics. Can we at least act like it?"

While they had been talking, Xander had been finishing his stabilising touches. He staggered backwards as the shell of the Eye finally clicked completely shut, the deafening hum it emitted quieting down as its spin slowed to a normal level.

Xander dabbed at his forehead (drenched with sweat) with his robe, before turning to give a dashing and exhausted smile to the Psijics. "Done. Crisis averted. Phew! Now what?"

"Now, we take it off your hands." Quaranir replied, crossing his arms. "The world gains access to the Eye and a month later it almost destroys Mundus. I think that's fairly solid evidence that Tamriel cannot be trusted with it just yet."

"What?" Xander pouted. "I can be trusted with it. Look how responsible I just was! And I can still learn so much from it, not to mention I'm sure I can be perfectly safe when drawing on it's power-"

"Xander." Quaranir said, softly. "I think there's a lesson to be learned here about chasing after power."

Xander stopped, and looked down in thought.

"...Did he seriously just say that with a straight face?" Stage-whispered Nerien.

"Oh, watch out guys, we've got a philosopher over here." Tandil snorted.

"The guy who nicked the Helm of the Crusader during the sacking of the Imperial City is cautioning against greed." Chuckled Gelebros.

Quaranir actually blushed, pulling his hood down lower. "Guys, please. I am begging you."

Xander laughed, and sat (or more accurately fell) on his backside before the Eye. "Alright, fine. Take it. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to become an all powerful deity anyway, I don't need to drive myself crazy chasing magical artefacts to do it." He looked up at them, grinning tiredly. "One question though. What was the deal with your interference? You clearly knew the Eye was in Saarthal. Why didn't you just move it then if you thought it would be a threat? Or warn us directly? Or just, I don't know, stab Ancano?"

"The Psijics have endeavoured not to interfere with the daily goings on of Tamriel. You are to make your own choices and face your own consequences, except in cases when artefacts or beings beyond your reasonable scope turn against you. As for why I appeared..." Quaranir coughed. "I was assigned to watch over the College of Winterhold. In truth, I did not know of the Eye before scouting the area in preparation for your arrival."

"Oh, wow." Xander exclaimed. "So watching this college is like a special sacred mission for you?"

"...No." Quaranir's voice got a lot quieter. "It's a bridge project."

"...Excuse me?" Xander gaped.

"Watch over and report on a largely inconsequential magical college. Document their findings, progress and knowledge for extra credit." Quaranir mumbled. "Artefacts like the Eye should be reported if they get out of hand, they're beyond the scope of the assignment, but-"

"But the big-shot Quaranir wanted to deal with it himself." Nerien cut in.

"Because as cool as he thinks he is, he's still falling behind in his mysticism grades because he keeps irritating the teacher." Tandil finished, smirking.

"I hate all of you..." Quaranir groaned.

Xander threw back his head and laughed. "HAH! Ahahahaha! You're, snck, you're not all-knowing time wizards!" He realised. "You're apprentices! You're exactly the same as me!"

"Not at all." Quaranir sighed. "You've become the most powerful person in your college, whereas if I fail to sort this by tomorrow I'll fail the project and there's a decent chance I'll have to retake the decade." He turned to his fellows. "Okay, can we just get this over with? You know I can't teleport it on my own."

"You're still doing our homework for a month?" Nerien asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm still on board. Alright guys, diamond tetragram formation, you know the drill."

The Psijics spread out, spouting magical jargon that went over Xander's head as they surrounded the Eye. He stepped back, as they raised their arms and began to weave magic around it.

"Do I get to keep the staff?" He called, clutching it tighter.

"It's not my place to decide when the Staff of Magnus abandons it's owner. By all means, keep it." Quaranir replied, turning his head. "Farewell, Alexander. It has been...enlightening, working with you."

"Likewise." Xander gave a cheeky grin. "Send me a postcard from Artaeum!"

"Oh I am quite done delivering letters at your request."

"Hah!"

With that, there was one final flash. The Eye of Magnus (and the four Psijics) vanished from the room.

Xander nodded once, and then collapsed in a heap on the floor.

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"Elisif! Elisif, are you alright?" Dulurza tried to be gentle as she shook her Jarl by the shoulders. "Come on, woman, now is not the time to fall faint."

"Hm...ngh..." Elisif's eyes fluttered back open, and none of the cold maliciousness was present there this time. "Dulurza? What...happened..."

"You don't remember?" Dulurza tried to balance Elisif on her feet, leaving herself available as a stable pillar as the woman shakily stood by herself. "When Borgakh grabbed you, you started casting paralysis magic on her. Or...was that all Potema?"

"It...Oh, no. I remember." Elisif put a hand to her forehead, groaning. "Potema's...asleep, I think? Taking over must have really exhausted her. I...Divines, I feel like my insides are on fire."

"Spellburn." Dulurza nodded. "That's what the wisewomen call it. Apparently if you push magic too far, your body can break, like torn muscles. Have you ever used magic before?"

"No, never. Well, I know the odd novice spell, but I'm not a mage." Elisif shook her head. "As a child they said I had the aptitude, if I applied myself, but I never had the time."

"Well we don't have the time now." Dulurza took her arm. "My Jarl, we're still not safe here. We need to get you inside the walls, they might be back. In force."

"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just blurry." Elisif grimaced, and started walking the way Dulurza directed. "I...you said there was an ambush, I started running, and then the Orc woman grabbed me. You came running in and then..." She frowned. "Wait."

"We should really talk about this later." Dulurza insisted, through grit teeth.

"No. No, she said you were-" Elisif stopped walking, and resisted when Dulurza tugged on her arm. "What was she talking about? She said you had a plan. She said you were working together, what did she mean?"

"Not now, Elisif-"

"YES NOW!" Elisif shouted, yanking her arm free of Dulurza's grip. "Dulurza...tell me what's happening. I'm scared."

Oh, that's not fair.

Dulurza gulped, and spoke. "She...we...That was my sister. Borgakh. She was planning to ambush you and kill you. I was..."

Stop being such a coward, Dulurza. You made your bedroll. Lie in it. "I was supposed to lead you to her." She said, looking to the floor. "I was supposed to land the final blow."

The forest was silent for a long while.

"What?" Elisif stared at her. "You were...you were going to kill me?" She took a step backwards. "Why? Were you being manipulated, did I do something, what-"

"It's complicated." Dulurza ground out.

"Well uncomplicate it! What in Talos' name is going on?"

"Fine then!" Dulurza shouted it in frustration (causing Elisif to take yet another step backwards), before forcibly calming herself.

"I come from Mor Khazgor." She began, deciding to just lay it all out as quickly as possible. "An Orc tribe in the mountains west of here. The tribe decided it was tired of living under the rule of the Nords, being forced to hide away instead of ruling the land that it deserved. With the war happening, we decided that it was time to strike. To storm and take the city of Solitude."

Elisif just stared at her in shock.

"We knew we couldn't just take the walls in a direct attack." Dulurza continued, flatly. "That's where I came in. I was sent in ahead of time to..." she sucked in a breath. "To infiltrate your court. To serve you, and gain your trust. So that when the time came for the attack, I would be able to find a way to cut you down."

It had been a good plan. A great plan. Challenging, in ways she'd never had to face before, but she had been up for it. Armed with her disgust of her enemies, her trust in her weapon, and her faith in her God and her tribe, she had thought herself prepared.

And then Elisif had said her name. And said she looked fetching. And everything had started to fall apart.

"But...why?" Elisif repeated herself, still plainly confused. "Even if you wanted to take the city, what good would my corpse serve?"

"Orcs don't take prisoners." Dulurza grimaced. "Not unless they want a new wife, that is. We hoped that your death would demoralise your forces. That your absence would rob them of leadership. And if I could take you outside, we-" Malacath, why does this hurt so much- "We planned to tell them we had you hostage, and wanted to negotiate your return. When your soldiers came to meet us at a location of our choosing, we would move past them and assault the city while it was weakened."

"Oh Gods..." Elisif looked unsteady again, stumbling backwards and leaning on a tree for support. "You were...you were lying to me? This entire time, you were just manipulating your way into my trust? Like Sybille?"

"NO! Well, I was deceiving you, but," Damnit, I still can't just explain myself- "I couldn't do it, Elisif! I still can't! You-" Dulurza started forwards "You just need to trust me-"

"STOP!" Elisif demanded, and Dulurza stopped. No Potema in the sound, the forceful command was all her. "Don't come any closer. I don't want you within ten paces of me, do you understand?"

"My Jarl..." Dulurza felt a stab of ache in her gut, but didn't try to move any closer. "Elisif, please. I swear to you on everything I've ever cared about, I will not hurt you."

"Even if I believe you." Elisif raised a hand in warning. "And even if you truly think so, the fact remains that you have been planning my murder for weeks." She took in a shuddering breath; Dulurza saw that there were tears on her cheeks. "We are returning to the Blue Palace. And you will explain everything, in detail, so that we can decide what to do." She chuckled. "You got your wish. I'm too reliant on you now to have you imprisoned. But from the moment we reach those walls there will never be a guard out of sight of you, do you understand me?"

Then she turned, and started walking briskly.

That's it? She's just...no, I can't-

"I saved your life!" Dulurza shouted, desperation in every word.

Elisif paused. "I know." She uttered, not turning back. "That's the only reason I'm not having you killed."

8˂

L'laarzen was almost certain that the gates of Riften hadn't looked so intimidating the last time she'd been there. Maybe it was the looming early morning fog, maybe it was the fact that dozens of people in there wanted her dead. Could be anything, really.

"Are you certain you wish to come along?" She asked Enthir, walking beside her. "You are aware that there is a good chance they will kill us?"

"Oh, I'm aware." The man groused. "Unfortunately, in abandoning the College to save my own skin, I've burned all my bridges there. And now that Macchius knows I'm working with Karliah, so does the guild. My choices are to stick with you or try to escape Mercer's wrath on my own." He glanced across at her. "Take that as some form of faith in you."

L'laarzen smiled brightly, if a little weakly. "Thaaanks..."

The two guards were still at the gate. Possibly (but not definitely) the ones that had tried to scam her when she had first entered. If they were on the guild's payroll, it would certainly make this next bit easier.

At the very least, they recognised her. As she walked cheerily up the path towards them, they glanced at each other, back to her, back to each other, and then put their hands on their sword hilts. "Halt!" One shouted. "You, the cat!"

"Hm?" L'laarzen blinked innocently at them. "Ah, yes. How prompt you guards are!"

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people." One told her, drawing his blade fully. "If you try to resist, you will be cut down!"

"Oh, well, we wouldn't want that." L'laarzen put her hands in the air. "Khajiit surrenders!"

Birds chirped in the distance.

"...Wait. What?" The guards looked at each other again.

"L'laarzen is not going to resist." She smiled. "Go ahead. Arrest her. She's sure this is all a big misunderstanding, so will happily stay in your prison in the meantime."

"I...well. That's good." The guard looked from her to Enthir, who had backed several feet away with wide eyes. "And you?"

"I-I have nothing to do with this!" The Bosmer protested, putting his arms in the air. "I don't even know this lady! I'm here to report to the Jarl, not-not whatever this is!"

"He speaks the truth. This is just a man L'laarzen met on the road here." She smiled over at Enthir, resisting the urge to wink at him. "Apologies, Khajiit should have told you in advance. Now then, shall we..?"

The guards didn't seem to have any more to say.

They were far rougher than L'laarzen thought was necessary. Confiscating and rummaging through her satchel, patting her down for weapons, one holding her at swordpoint as the other went to open the gate. Clearly waiting for any reason to kill her right there. But she didn't intend to give them one, and with Enthir there as a civilian witness (an important one, from his words) they couldn't just butcher a surrendering woman without cause. All according to plan. Even their more intense ministrations were expected, and utilised. L'laarzen saw a dark grey figure dart through the fog from the treeline, flit up the city wall, and vanish from sight entirely. But the distracted guards were none the wiser, and escorted her into the city proper.

That meant step one was completed.

The members of the Guild would know Enthir, of course. But L'laarzen had bet (correctly) that any instructions relayed by Mercer to the guards in their pocket would only be about her and Karliah. The Guildmaster would tell the guards she was to be killed immediately, if possible. In reality, he'd just want L'laarzen to murder some Hold guards in self defence so he could pin a real crime on her and have her legitimately hunted throughout the country. As if she would be foolish enough to let that work. There was a very small period of time wherein his only real option was pulling a knife on her directly, and she intended to make the most of it.

It was business as usual in the city streets. Maul, the Black-Briar's bruiser, saw her on her way in. He gave her a surprised look, she smiled at him, and then he took off at a jog towards his master's manor. Good doggie.

In the market, her arrival didn't cause too much of a stir. Crime was hardly newsworthy in Riften. But there was one person who took a lot of interest in her sudden appearance.

"I kid you not ladies and gentlemen! Aetherium dust! The very material used by the Dwarves to...to, ah..." Brynjolf crashed to a halt in whatever scheme he was trying to pull in the centre of the market, as his eyes locked onto L'laarzen's. She winked at him.

"Ah...Excuse me one second." He dropped what he was holding and rushed over to her.

"Ah, Brynjolf! Once this is resolved, Khajiit must take a look at what you were selling there, it looked-"

"What in Oblivion are you playing at?" Brynjolf hissed at her, pushing in close.

"Oi! Back off!" One of the guards gave him a shove, and he stumbled away from her, shock still plain on his face.

"L'laarzen would advise going to inform our mutual friend about this development." She told him, smile not leaving her face. "I imagine he would like to speak to Khajiit, no?"

"Enough! Move it, cat, now!" L'laarzen let the guards pull her away from the stunned thief, fixing her eyes on Mistveil Keep.

You have made a mistake, Mercer. L'laarzen would have been content to remain entirely out of your business. Yet you brought her to Snow Veil Sanctum. You tried to kill her. You betrayed her.

L'laarzen's eyes narrowed just a fraction. And now you must be destroyed.

With that, she was imprisoned in Riften Jail.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

There was a loud creaking and shuddering noise.

"...nder! Alexander!"

"Oh, not again..." Xander groaned and opened his eyes, taking in the worried face of Mirabelle Ervine as she rushed through the doors to the Hall. "Heeeey, Miss Ervine. Just a thought; do you think maybe letting the Thalmor spy live in the college was a good idea?"

"Are you hurt?" She dropped to her knees next to him, golden light in her hands. "What happened? Where's the Eye? Where's Ancano? What-"

"I'm fine." Xander insisted, struggling to sit up. "I stabilised the Eye and then the Psijics took it away for safekeeping. Ancano is..." he looked over to a particularly scorched section of the floor. "Gone? I think some of him went into the Aetherius, some of him went out the window, and we're breathing the rest of him." His head throbbed, and he groaned, closing his eyes. "And I...I have not slept in over two days. Not slept properly in longer. I got an hour's kip at the statue of Azura, then I literally walked to Labyrinthian, fought a dragon priest, walked back and did this without stopping. I need to be dropped in my bed with a big stack of food nearby and just left alone for twenty four hours."

"I'll see what I can do." Mirabelle chuckled, supporting his back. "But first...I think there are some things we still need to sort out."

"Right." He grimaced. "The shield thing, back when this started. Go ahead: ask what you need to ask."

"Alright." She met his eyes. "Your magic. You..."

"Hardly have any of it, yeah." He sighed. "The storm Atronach at the gate was a concealed scroll. Everything else was staves, scrolls, tricks, or other people's help." He swallowed. "I lied to you. You and the College. I'm sorry."

"...I see." She nodded. "Well, I...can't say I'm not hurt. And more than a little annoyed at myself that you were able to get away with it for so long."

He looked away, and she reached out and dragged his head back. "But," she emphasised, "you can't expect me to punish you unduly for it after you saved the entire Hold."

"But I got Savos killed!" Xander protested. "If I hadn't been so pathetic in there, he might have-"

"Been able to stop the newly arisen demigod by himself?" Mirabelle filled in, making him shut his mouth. "I am angry that he died. Savos was a trusted friend, not just my Archmage. But it's because I trusted him that I knew you were the person we needed, when he gave you the Torc. You being there was our salvation, Xander, not our doom."

"I thought you hated me." He murmured, looking down. "I thought...I was going to be cast out again."

"I wasn't trying to throw you out that window, Xander." Mirabelle insisted. "You were my student. I only wanted to help. If you had stayed and explained it to me, I wouldn't have turned you away."

Xander met her gaze again, taking in the genuine smile in her eyes. He sniffed, then rubbed a sleeve across his face. "T-Thank you."

"You're welcome." She stood, and reached a hand out to him. "Now then. We need to explain this to the rest of the masters."

"Explain me?" He asked, taking the hand and letting her pull him to his feet.

"I think that can wait until tomorrow. For now, just the Eye and Ancano will be sufficient." She looked out the door, to where over a dozen robed people were definitely not staring at her, and sighed. "And I suppose I shall have to take over as Archmage now. Wonderful."

"I'll support you, for what it's worth." Xander told her, smiling. "Divines know you're the best option."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll hate it." She groaned. "But it's what Savos would have wanted. Tolfdir is too old, we can't risk losing two Archmages within a year, and the other masters are too research oriented, no administrative or negotiation skills. And who else is there, Nirya?"

"She wishes." Xander snorted. He looked out the door and cracked his neck, trying to override the deep-seated ache in his muscles. "Right then. Suppose it's time for a speech..."

He scooped up the Staff of Magnus from where it lay, and walked out the doors.

Gathered was practically the entire population of the College, all of whom went quiet as he approached.

"Masters!" He called, making sure to look between everyone's faces at reasonable intervals. "Apprentices! The threat is passed!"

There was an outbreak of applause, some of the younger apprentices whooping and cheering.

Oh, wow, this is new. This feels nice.

"Using the Staff of Magnus, I was able to connect with the Eye!" He continued, simplifying for the sake of the speech. "I bypassed it's defences, disconnected and slew the infiltrator Ancano, and repaired the damage to the artefact! From there, the Psijics arrived to retrieve it! They believed that such dangerous magics should be kept safe from the grasp of ambition and avarice; I agreed, and allowed them to take it to Artaeum for safe keeping. Perhaps, some day, we will prove ourselves worthy of it again."

There were more cheers, and Xander tried to keep his face solemn rather than breaking into the ecstatic grin he felt on the inside. Oh, I love speeches. Are they normally this easy, or is it just the celebratory mood?

"I repeat, the danger is over!" He reiterated. "You may return to your rooms, and the citizens of Winterhold may go freely back to their homes! I recognise that you all must desire simply to rest. I, too, could use a tall mug of mead and a warm bed." He allowed himself to smile then, and got the intended chuckle from the audience. "However! There is one thing that must be resolved before we do so." He put a solemn face back on, and continued "I have confirmed that our beloved Archmage, Savos Aren, has passed away. He died bravely restraining Ancano's evil, and were it not for him, I would never have had time to complete my mission. He is unquestionably a hero." There were nods, and mumbled prayers from the crowd. "However. Now that we are safe, we must choose who is to take his place."

Xander had expected them all to start mumbling and looking amongst each other, but they all continued to stare at him expectantly. Okay... "Savos' successor must be strong, not only of magical might but of will." He continued. "They must be unafraid to lead, willing to shoulder any burden necessary to protect their College." He looked across to Mirabelle, and smiled at her as she met his eyes. "I believe that there is only one person who fits that description." He turned back to the crowd. "But it is not up to me; it is up to you. Please, take as long as you need."

He took a step back, allowing Mirabelle to be better positioned for everyone's attention, and waited.

And that's a wrap. The magic may be hard, but this is politics. This is Synod stuff. If I couldn't direct a crowd in my sleep, what kind of Imperial noble would I be?

"Well." Sergius was the first to speak. "I think we're all in agreement. There is only one choice."

"Indeed." Drevis chuckled. "Thank you for your attempts to be impartial, Alexander, but I don't think such humility is necessary."

Xander smiled, inclining his head, as Tolfdir said "After all. Who better to lead the College than the one who saved it?"

"...I'm sorry what?" Xander blinked.

"The magic you demonstrated in that battle was simply extraordinary." Faralda gushed. "Not just the power, that I could attribute to the Eye, but the speed and precision with which you used it! I knew there was something special about you from the moment you approached the bridge."

"And your leadership!" Colette chimed in. "The way you appeared from the storm and rallied the entire city! Your sheer presence was awe inspiring!"

"Not to mention, I can see the diadem of the savant on your arm." Phinis gestured to it. "That means that you have already traversed Shalidor's maze. We can skip the unnecessary pomp, in that case."

"Now hold on a minute-" Mirabelle tried to interject. 'Tried'. By that point, the volume of the crowd had risen considerably, and she was drowned out.

"Of course he is to be Archmage! The only one who's talent matches J'zargo's own is the only one worthy of running this academy!" J'zargo crowed.

"And he's a natural teacher! He helped me so much with my spellwork in just a few minutes!" Added Brelyna.

The crowd began clapping, roaring their approval.

"He was obviously never a regular apprentice-"

"He's a hero, that's what he is!"

"Saved all our lives!"

"I mean I thought he was talking about Ms Ervine at first but yeah this makes way more sense!"

"Long live the College of Winterhold!"

"Long live Archmage Meteuse!"

Tolfdir walked up and clasped Xander's slack hands. "Congratulations, my boy." He said with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm so proud to have had a chance to teach such an exceptional student. I look forward to seeing where you take us."

He shook Xander's hand thoroughly, then walked across to speak to Mirabelle.

Xander just stood there, slack jawed. He looked down to his hand. Up at the crowd. Down, then up again.

He licked his lips, and then ever so quietly whispered:

"...what?"

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

And so, the second act of this story comes to a close.

Alexander accomplishes the same feat as a large majority of Skyrim players: Becoming the Archmage of the College of Winterhold...with barely any actual magic. In the game, it's something of a joke. Here, it's...well it's entirely a joke. Don't worry Xander, being entirely unqualified for the position doesn't stop loads of people in our world.

Hjar escapes Makarth. Got a waifu, come to some realisations, and has also set the entire city on fire. But she still has her date with the Dark Brotherhood, and while she may be able to overcome the bloodlust of Hircine's Ring, it's still a massive pain in the ass.

L'laarzen is in jail. What is it with my characters and willingly putting themselves in prison?

And poor, poor Dulurza. How did you expect it to go when your Jarl finally learns you've been reluctantly scheming against her for weeks? The truth is out, and now it's up to the players to try and pick up the pieces.

I hope you have all enjoyed what has been put out so far. And now we reach the part everyone hates to hear: The break.

I've already begun working on Act III, but I'm still not entirely sure about what's going to happen and when. I need time to put it all together in my brain, and build up a backlog to defend against my incorrigibly inconsistent inspiration.

That said, I promise you, you won't be waiting a full season or more for this to resume. I want to shakily predict something like...start of October? Probably? This is less a definite date and more a cross on the calendar to force me to get my arse in gear. As lockdown dwindles and I go back to my responsibilities, my productivity is gonna drop, so I need to bulwark against that somewhat.

In any case, it's been good fun so far. I'll see y'all when I see y'all. May your feet bring you warm sands!