Erik yawned as he woke up, the sun rising in the distance beyond the window in his room, signalling it was early in the morning. Erik stretched out, his tunic he slept in hanging tight onto him. They did need to go the tailor again to have some new clothes made for him, didn't they? Hopefully his formal clothes would still fit well enough for it to not be embarrassing. By the Eight, it would be awful if he had something so humiliating occur on the first day at the Academy.
The Academy of Julianos was a relatively new initiative formulated by the advisor to Emperor Titus Mede II, Martin Blackwell in the years following the White-Gold Concordat being signed. It required all eight-year-olds to begin their education in the nearest Academy, and since Erik had turned eight a month ago, on the eighth anniversary of the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, and the school year was beginning today, it was time for him to begin his schooling, which would last until he turned eighteen.
Erik was rather apprehensive to the idea of going to school because it would be people he barely knew, if he had even met them before. What would they be like? Would they be brutish, like the Nords of Skyrim, or cunning, like many of the politicians in the city Erik called home? Maybe there would be some friendly faces that would be nicer than the rest. Those would be the ones Erik would try to befriend, he decided as he put on his formal uniform.
Erik walked downstairs to eat breakfast before he headed off for the Academy, which was in the heart of the Imperial City, it's majesty only beaten by the Temple of the Eight and the White-Gold Tower. It could be seen from just about anywhere in the Imperial City, which made it easy to use as a reference point when trying to find your way around the large city. His mother, a woman named Belle, was downstairs, preparing a balanced meal to start the day. "Big day ahead of you, huh?" Mother said when she noticed him walking downstairs from the upper level of their house.
"Yeah..." Erik responded as he sat down, staring at where his father should be sitting, if it wasn't for the brewing conflict up north. In Skyrim, the Empire's relationship with certain Nord leaders was souring, and Emperor Titus Mede II had ordered for more troops to be sent out, unfortunately including his father. "When do you think father'll be back?" Erik asked innocently.
"It depends," Mother answered as she set down a plate for him, and he began to eat while he listened, "If we can improve relations with the Nords, he should be home soon. If not, it will certainly be a while unless he is too injured to continue fighting." Erik gulped, hoping that his father wouldn't let himself get to that point. Erik prayed to whichever Divine was listening that the situation in Skyrim would become better with time.
Erik didn't take long to finish his meal, and soon left the house with a kiss from his mother. His textbooks that were needed for the lessons they were going to have were in his arms as he walked through the bustling streets of the Imperial City, barely being able to see in front of him, but still able to look to the Academy to find his way. The textbooks had been sent by mail to their home, but unfortunately, they were rather large, which would likely be the case until he graduated from the Academy.
Erik bumped through the crowds of people, who seemed largely understanding for his predicament, though he did catch a couple of people glaring at him as he moved his way towards the Academy. Eventually, he did make it there, a little early judging by the position the sun was at in the sky. Making his way into the main hall, he was greeted by a man with graying hair but a kind smile on his face. "Greetings, young man!" he said, warmly welcoming Erik into the Academy, where a shrine to Julianos was in the center of the main hall, which almost seemed to radiate with a divine light.
"Hello," Erik said, looking around at the large room in awe. There were plenty of bookshelves in the hall, packed with books organized in an alphabetical order and sorted by Era published in. Erik was surprised to see what appeared to be a book from the First Era, and he wondered what kind of information could be in a book that ancient. Sadly, the books from the First and Second Era were locked behind glass cases that looked pretty resistant to theft. Erik looked at the small paper he had on top of the pile of books in his arms, seeing that his first class was about the history of Cyrodiil. "Where can I find the Cyrodiilic History class?" Erik asked, earning a chuckle from the aging man.
"You'll want to wait a little while before you go, but it's the left hallway, second door on the right," the man answered. Erik thanked the man and waited for everyone else to arrive after he set his things down in the classroom he had directed him towards. Slowly but surely, more and more of his peers trickled into the Academy, being members of just about every race in Tamriel due to the variety of the Imperial City. Short and tall, young and old, relatively speaking, Erik had a lot of people to meet.
When the time had come, Erik walked to the seat he had put his things by, leaving before anyone else to keep his seat safe. To his shock, there was another person in there. Not the teacher, no, it was a girl the same age as him! Judging by her dark skin and onyx hair, Erik would assume that she was a Redguard, hailing from the lands of Hammerfell to the west of Cyrodiil. She was sitting in the seat directly right of his own. Erik took his seat and the girl said, "You're the one who got here early?" Erik nodded. The girl held out a hand, which Erik nervously shook. This was kind of strange, having just met the girl.
"Shara, Shara Kreston," she introduced, leaving it to be Erik's turn. His mother had taught him proper etiquette, so he spoke next.
"Erik Philoria," he said with a friendly grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shara."
"The pleasure's mine, Erik," Shara responded, returning the smile with one of her own. Erik heard the other students coming, so he quieted down and watched as his class walked into the room. The variety of the school was there even in the youngest class, as Erik saw everything from Nords to Orcs in his class. There was even a Khajitt in his class, but that wasn't too surprising, considering how many people came to Cyrodiil to live, either because of diplomatic work or just to seek a new life.
Their teacher, who, much to Erik's surprise, happened to be the man he had talked to nearly half an hour prior, entered the classroom, shutting the wooden door behind him. "Hello, class, and welcome to your first, of many, years here!" he announced as he stopped in front of them. "I am Cyrus Montague, but you can refer to me as Mr. Montague," he said, finally giving Erik a name for the kind man's face.
"If you have looked at the schedule sent with your reading materials, you will know that this class is Cyrodilic History, which, as the name suggests, will cover the history of our province. Where else would we start from except the beginning?" Mr. Montague said, beginning Erik's first lesson, of which he would have many for the next ten years of his life. Then, after he turned twenty six, he left for battle, with Shara at his side.