I figured out why I wasn't confident about the previous chapter now. Like some reviews said there just wasn't enough conflict and it happened too fast for my liking.
I actually thought about not having Dovahkin here but then I slapped myself to my senses. What Skyrim crossover is complete without a Dragonborn and dragons? I don't know what I was thinking. How to put him in is the problem now.
Another error I noticed. My Archmage OC somehow changed his name within a chapter. It's amazing how I don't notice this when I read through it right after I finish writing ; but notice days after when I read it for fun.
Winterhold was in an uproar. As expected no one liked their new location and blame immediately went to the College, as all things out of the ordinary tend to.
It actually took nearly half a day before most actually realized what had happened. When the usual traders stopped arriving, people got suspicious.
When some came to investigate they found the gate closed and barred. A platoon of Winterhold guards guarding it. The presence of so many swords tends to cool down even the most hot-headed of Nords and Orks.
When rumours of the Archmage discussing something that involved "teleportation" and "all of Winterhold" with the Jarl got out, thanks to some eavesdropping servants, people turned their attention to the College to get answers.
Thankfully the bolstered presence of mages patrolling the College and the extra guards stationed near the bridge kept someone from doing something stupid. The already large crowd was then expanded as heralds cried out that the Jarl was going to make an address at the College.
The citizens of Winterhold crowded into the large plaza that marked the entrance to the College. Mages, wearing the fluttering robes that marked their rank, stood guard in front of the bridge.
If one looked closer; then they could note the symbols on the robes denoted them all as Adepts and Experts of their craft. The tinted red cloth marked them all as destruction mages.
The College was expecting violence and were as ready as they could be for it. If the Jarl couldn't calm the growing crowd; then there will be blood.
Those that had volunteered to guard the College were well aware of this. Their faces were grim as they watched the crowd swell in numbers that reached the thousands.
The Jarl was likewise expecting this to turn out badly though he fervently hoped otherwise. Squads of Winterhold guards made their way into the crowd, positioning themselves into key locations.
More of the watch now patrolled the empty streets far from the plaza. Their blades keeping any footpads that tried to take advantage of the gathering and the absence of most people from their houses.
Companies of Soldiers were also being marshalled to bring forth. The thud of hundreds of troops could be faintly heard over the crowd. Nearly 1000 soldiers would prove a good deterrent to hostilities.
If one inspected the crowd closely they could make out the gleam of weapons in the midday sun within the crowd. Several of them also wore armour. Clearly everyone knew this might turn bloody.
Finally the Jarl arrived. His guards pushed the crowd aside as he made his way to the bridge leading to the College.
He stopped just short of crossing the bridge. The mages respectfully bowed and moved aside for him to speak to his people. The Hold's finest surrounded him, forming a semi-circle in front of him, as they tried to appear calm; keeping hands of their weapon's hilts.
There was tense silence as people quietened upon seeing the Jarl. The Jarl stood up straight and took a deep breath. "People of Winterhold, I bring bad tidings!" he shouted to the crowd so that all could hear.
"I don't know how to put this in other words, or in a better way; but put simply we are no longer in Tamriel. "
There was no noise from the crowd aside from the distracting cries of a baby somewhere near the back of the crowd as people let this sink in.
No longer in Tamriel? How could they no longer be in Tamriel?
People then began to shout all at once. Questions were shouted out by those still confused, while answers were returned by those who pretended to know what was going on. More were shouted for at the Jarl for answers.
The crowd was in an uproar.
A streak of ice sailed over the crowd. It shattered in a loud crack into snowflakes over the crowd. Tracing the source, people saw the Archmage make his way to stand behind the Jarl; his hand still outstretched from casting the spell.
It had the required effect as people quietened down upon seeing the powerful, elderly Bosmer.
Seeing that he could speak and be heard again; Kraldar shouted "It is by the machinations of mages that we have come to be in this new land of Halkengenia. Though, for once, it is not our own that caused this." He added seeing people stir at the mention of mages and immediately linking it to the College of Winterhold.
"It is this lands magic that brought us here. We need to-"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off as people shouted out in anger. There were cries of retribution and compensation among the crowd. Some were even calling for the deaths of those who brought them here.
Thankfully, for the most part, the more level headed people were calling for Winterhold to be returned. Honestly killing the one who brought us here would more or less eliminate all chances of return, and that was plain stupid.
Again Motabe had to use magic to bring attention back to the Jarl. A second ball of ice hovered its way into the crowd for it to shatter again. The Jarl's guards added to this by banging their shields to bring attention back to their liege.
"As I was saying; we need to keep calm and maintain order." The Jarl resumed.
"We have the situation under control and I have already sent an emissary to the lands we find ourselves in. So again I ask for all to return to their homes." He finished.
"Why can't they just send us back?" someone in the crowd shouted. There were cries of support for this question as people demanded to know the answer.
More angry shouts were heard as people demanded their return to Skyrim and retribution for taking them away.
The first signs of danger were now there. Some were already hurriedly making their way out of the crowd, intent on putting as much distance between them and the plaza. The stationed guards were already half drawing their blades and the mages fell into a casting stance.
Motabe stepped forward and answered this. "Magic doesn't work like that. We don't even know the specifics of the spell that brought us here." His answer was not the one people to hear.
"Then what good are you mages? Send us back you un-" Anything else he may have said was drowned out as more accusations were thrown out at the Archmage. This was countered by even more shouting as others defended the mages while, those more suspicious of magic continued to spit at them.
More magic was thrown out to quell the crowd but they were for naught. Already fists were raised and weapons were drawn as fights broke out from the simple disagreement.
For Nords, when talking doesn't work then the next best thing was an axe to the head or a sword to the gut. The other guy won't be able to disagree then.
And then there was pride. Pride would not let a Nord admit he was wrong, especially if he was right or at least believed he was. This works both to the advantage and to the disadvantage of Nords. Right now it was the former.
The Jarl could be seen shouting out to the crowd, his face red from screaming. His guards now huddled together and were trying to force him across the bridge into the College. The Jarl made this hard when he was brandishing his own blade and was screaming obscenities to his men for dragging him away from the fight.
A flash of yellow surrounded the Jarl for a moment and he appeared calmer. Kraldar nodded thanks to Motabe and consented to leaving; his old bones unlikely to stand up stand up to those fighting in the melee.
Down it the plaza, it was chaos. Several individual duels were taking place as people sought blood. Even more were trying to escape the battle and were unwilling dragged into it regardless.
The one that had shouted out first went down with a spray of blood, a dagger embedded into his neck. His body trampled as others either fought or fled on top of it.
The Nord that performed the deed was pounced on by the dead man's friends, dragging him to the ground in a roar of outrage.
A Khajiit trader caught in the fight weaved under the heavy swings of a battle axe. The Nord, angry at his inability to hit the cat, swung it in a wide arc. Again it missed the nimble Khajiit but it did meet flesh.
The congested streets meant that everyone was packed together. His swing may have missed the Khajiit but it did cut through several others.
Someone would get hit by chance and others would set upon the attacker. This in turn brought in others as they defended their friend. Soon, the whole fight became one where they fought to avenge injuries rather as the cycle repeated itself.
The guards called for order at first; but seeing that was not working resorted to more practical methods. Using their shields and the flat side of their swords, they forced their way through the crowd, determined to put themselves between those fighting and those fleeing.
More than a few were cut down by accident, but their corpses and screaming bodies were paid no heed as they struggled to stem the tide.
The struggling combatants paid no attention to those around them. They were focused on fighting the dissenting side.
Mass paralysis spells soared into the fight. Entire groups of fighters were frozen where the stood as the mages of Winterhold entered the fray.
The Archmage himself could be seen generating dirt brown magic in his hands. When it was released and hit a group of struggling Nords and a lone Orc; all were immobilized in hardened mud.
Sickly green blasts of energy erupted from the rest of the magi's hands as they rained down spells. Some of them were also healing non-combatants that were unfortunately caught in the crossfire.
Some of the more mage hating fighters saw the mages and charged them. They were cut short by a squad of guards that had managed to fight their way through the melee to reach the mages.
Metal and wood met flesh as the enraged citizens threw themselves at the exhausted guards regardless, self-preservation losing to their bloodlust.
The soldiers, who were gathered only a few streets away, finally managed to arrive at the plaza which was covered in chaos.
Their dark grey steel armour with a silver cloak thrown over it attracted much attention from all sides. Those trying to stop the fight rejoiced at the sight. The fighters themselves started to regain their senses, the sight of overwhelming force calming them down somewhat.
At the snap of their captain, the troops tightened formations and formed a shield wall. Slowly they marched their way into the plaza from all directions, their shields up front as they blocked any way out.
By those still standing were throwing down their weapons, some were still angry while others were accepting of the situation.
And as quickly as it started; the large scale brawl, or bloodbath some would call it, ended just as quickly.
The bodies of the wounded and dead littered the pavement of the plaza. Moans of pain and cries of help could be heard from all corners of the plaza.
Blood flowed freely from wounds. The crimson liquid staining the once clean pavement as it flowed between cracks in the stones.
The guards who were still standing made their way to arrest those who fought. They were aided by soldiers who broke formation to sweep the entire area.
Healers were called out of the College to tend to the wounded. Guards, mages and soldiers were prioritized for treatment with those who tried to flee being next.
Those who had broken the peace, in support for the mages or not, were made sure they wouldn't die. Otherwise they were left broken on the floor, awaiting their turn to be picked up by the uncompromising City Watch.
The Palace of Storms was the home of the Jarl and the political centre of Winterhold. The name itself was rather cheesy; but the Jarl had been adamant on naming it after the massive storms that caused the great collapse, in remembrance of the events.
The main hall was where the Jarl held session. Aside from the guards and the servants; there were only four men in the hall.
Motabe; the Archmage of the College of Winterhold. After the fight had been contained he had returned to the College to gather healers. Seeing that was achieved he had made his way to the palace, knowing that Kraldar would seek him out eventually anyway.
Thonjolf, the Housecarl of the Jarl and his personal advisor, had chosen to remain in the palace during all the events outside. His poor fighting prowess was unusual for one that's meant to be a Jarl's sword and shield. But his political skill and the uncanny way that he somehow knew things before it actually happens more than made up for it.
Commander Ulran was the Nord in charge of the cities watch. His arm was in a sling, the result of a Dark Elf hitting him with a makeshift stave unaware, but his minds was what was needed here; not his blade.
And finally there was General Skar. By chance his cheek actually sported a collection of claw marks from when a bear got him with its paw. No one dared openly mock him about it though, despite his age and grey hair, he was still quick enough to put many a younger man to shame.
"Well… that didn't turn out well." Uttered Motabe.
"That is a huge understatement." Responded an irritated Thonjolf.
The chaos had been quelled and wounded were being taken away for treatment. Despite the amount of fighting, there were surprisingly few deaths, though many would have impressive scars by the end of the day.
Many of the cities leaders were called to the Jarl's palace; though the Jarl himself had yet to make an appearance.
"It could have been worse." Offered Ulran.
Only just over two hundred dead with around 1900 wounded, only 300 of those being serious. It indeed could have been worse. Much worse.
"By Talos, don't even start." Muttered the grizzled General.
"With the number of people present, I'm actually surprised that it took that long for the fi-"The Archmage cut himself short as the Jarl finally arrived; Arlerus Jurulonus trailing behind him.
Normally he would have continued regardless but the appearance of the Imperial Thane meant news from Tristain.
All attention shifted to the new arrivals, many saluting Kraldar as he passed them.
Seating himself on his throne he turned to face his subordinates and colleagues while The Thane of Winterhold made his way to stand by the Archmage.
"Today… was a disaster." He stated plainly.
"So… Ulran how many?" he asked the Commander of the guard.
"How many of what? The dead? Wounded? Prisoners?" Ulran asked.
The Jarl sighed. "All of them." he elaborated.
The commander pulled out a piece of parchment from his pouch. He brought it up to the light to read. "204 dead. Approximately 1850 wounded and there are now exactly 412 new residents in our cells."
"And your own men?"
Ulran grimaced. "Thirty-two guardsmen died, proudly serving Winterhold, today." He answered solemnly.
Kraldar frowned. "Commander; I want you to find the instigators. Failing that, then all of them will face execution. Rest assured Commander I will not allow their deaths go unpunished."
He nodded in gratitude and saluted the Jarl. "Then if there is nothing else; I will begin immediately."
Seeing the Jarl hold wave for him to stay; he remained rooted to the spot.
"No. Stay here for now. What Arlerus brings will likely affect your business too."
"Yes my Jarl."
Satisfied the Jarl turned to look at Arlerus. Motioning the Thane to step forward he asked for a report of his meeting.
"My Jarl, I have managed to secure a trade agreement with the Crown of Tristain. It is more advantageous to us than our previous one back in Skyrim; due to their inability to adequately value our products properly, though this may not last forever. And the Princess has… an offer for Winterhold."
The Jarl leaned forward. "And what is this offer?"
Taking a deep breath Arlerus answered. "Our oath of allegiance to the Kingdom of Tristain, in exchange for the protection from other foreign nations for the duration of our time here."
Kraldar reclined back into his chair in thought. "I am not willing to forswear my oath to the Empire like my predecessor was Arlerus. Though you would know that so what's the catch in this deal of theirs?" he asked the Imperial softly.
"It is likely they will forcibly annex us regardless. No nation would be willing to allow a separate state within their borders; unless they were significantly stronger than the other. I don't think Tristain is that strong so as to ignore us and let us be." He replied in just as soft of a tone.
"So it's join us willingly or we will force you?"
"They didn't say that exactly but yes, that is it exactly it." Arlerus confirmed.
The Jarl sighed for what might have been the hundredth time today.
His hand was on his head as he hunched over in thought. "And what guarantees do they offer?"
"None yet, we have no discussed it. I believe such matters are left for you and Thonjolf."
Thonjolf slightly nodded his approval at this move, while the Jarl was more lukewarm about it. While he wasn't a horrible politician, it was no secret that he preferred the thrill of battle to the bustling of politics. But being a leader wasn't about what he wanted, something he made all his subordinates remember.
At times he thought about stepping down and letting his son take his place. The boy was already into his twenties and was an outstanding man; already marking his place in Winterhold's army as one of its officers.
Such thoughts were cast down eventually. He wanted his son to be free from the infernal niceties of politics as long as he could. Times like these especially. A new leader would only make the growing civil unrest worse.
"Swearing allegiance would not be accepted by the people. Even some of our own men might rebel for this." Interjected Thonjolf.
"That is what I told the Princess." Responded Arlerus.
"Today's spectacle wouldn't hold a candle to what would come if you accepted." Said a disbelieving captain. The ramifications of accepting would be even worse than today.
"We cannot accept like that. People are already up in arms about the transversal, if Winterhold was to bend its knee to a foreign power just like that… we wouldn't last a week." Motabe contributed.
"You are all correct in that it is unacceptable. But can we afford to say no. We are just one province against an entire country." Said Skar, as he crossed his arms in thought.
"I'm no politician, but wouldn't it be better if we refused this and offered an alliance It would have to favour them, of course, else they wouldn't accept." He continued.
Arlerus shrugged his shoulders. "I suggested that but the Princess pushed for us to merge temporarily."
"I believe it would be for the best if this was done with Tristain directly instead of plucking at hypothetical solutions. Sometimes facing something head on is the best approach."" Suggested Motabe.
"I agree that it is better. But as I said, I'm just a soldier. This kind of work doesn't suit me." Agreed the General.
And this was why Kraldar liked his advisors. Without him contributing much at all, they had given him an answer to the problem.
"Then we shall meet." Announced Kraldar. Facing things directly suited him better anyway.
Thonjolf looked ready to disagree, but seeing the Jarl was set on this course; he stopped himself from wasting both of their time.
"Arlerus, when are they expecting you back?" asked the Jarl.
The Imperial gave another shrug. "I expect in another few days."
"Good. I will come with you then. Thonjolf I want you to be my steward while I'm away, just do what you normally do. Skar, I want a bigger routine; first impressions mean much. And captain, people will likely be upset about me leaving so I want you to maintain order as well as you can. Do not let another incident like today to occur again if you can help it."
With that he got off his throne and dismissed them all.
The others saluted while Motabe gave a small bow. As group began to leave someone placed his hand onto the Archmage's shoulder to stop him.
Turning around, Motabe found himself facing Arlerus. "Is there something else my friend?"
Arlerus smiled in that hearty manner of his. "Yes. Yes there is. You see I found some interesting people during my short trip."
Motabe, now curious, asked him to elaborate.
"I met two girls' there at the Academy. One, who I believe you are already an acquaintance with, and a second girl; Siesta of Tarbes."
The only girl he could possibly be an acquaintance of was Miss Valliere though the second was unknown to him. "And what was so interesting about them, that you would bring it up with me."
Wait. Two girls that interested a powerful mage who happened to be friends with. If they were interesting to him, it was likely related to magic. And if he was bringing the subject up with him it meant…
"You taught them magic of some kind and they proved to be geniuses at it." He stated simply
Arlerus was taken aback by his deduction but eventually regain his composure with a smile. "And you ruined the surprise. Nevertheless, I am asking if you can find a sponsor for Miss Siesta and possibly Miss Louise, if she needs it. It would be a sin to let talent like theirs go to waste."
The Bosmer rubbed his chin in interest. "So what did they do that was so amazing?"
"They mastered a basic conjuration spell in a day, no a few hours at most; with no prior experience in manipulating magicka. In fact Miss Siesta managed to cast it on her first try with only my obscure instructions to go by. Miss Louise managed it only a few hours later."
An untrained girl managing to successfully cast a spell that others would normally take at least a week to learn and cast it. And that was if they were already taught the basics of magic.
"That is indeed impressive if what you say is true. Miss Siesta I could sponsor but Miss Louise is… she's already a student of another Academy."
"I was only asking for sponsorship for Miss Siesta. Miss Louise already has teachers; who are more likely better suited to teach her their brand of magic anyhow." Interjected Arlerus.
The Archmage smiled sagely. "Then so shall it be. If Miss Siesta is as good as you say; then she will have no trouble finding a place in the College if she desires it."
"And that is all I ask for. Many thanks." Thanked the Imperial.
The two were left alone in the silence of the halls now. The stoic guards kept their silence and all servants had long left the hall, their work done.
Together they made their way out of the hall as they discussed the College's new prospect.
Louise is probably going to end up in the College regardless of what I just wrote there. Everyone else? I don't know. And since we all know the Winterhold learning experience involves going through dangerous dungeons and fighting magical threats; they won't be stuck reading books all the time.
Really; you hardly actually need to use magic during the quest line and the few times you do, the spell is given or is a very basic one. Reminds me of the Oblivion Mages Guild quest where the only interesting part was the magic Aylied pillar that reflects wrong spells back at you. Except you actually had to cast a spell to join the College of Winterhold; whereas in Cyrodiil any random guy could join as long as they're not wanted by the guards.