The once-bold wintry town was but a shade of what it used to be. The village consisted of a few houses, an inn, and a Jarl's longhouse. Near the end lay numerous burned-out structures near the foot of a towering bridge, which lead to the mighty edifice that is often the dartboard of blame for the fall of its city. The College of Winterhold.

It was the only thing I could focus on when we arrived. Then I passed in a clean line through the desolate town to approach the bridge, guarded by an elf mage. Ri'saad, Lydia and Rodryck were following behind.

"Halt! You need permission to enter," she commanded. "What are you here for?"

I stepped forward towards her. "We request access to the College to discuss the transfer of materials," I clarified. "We are from the clan Dragon-blood."

I could almost hear Lydia snicker, but I wasn't quite sure.

"Oh. Well, we've heard much about you, but I'm afraid you still need to show us your skill," she said.

Well, damn. An entry test.

She indicated toward an inscription on the stone floor. "You must cast Magelight right there."

...How is this place still standing?

I quickly cast Magelight – as suggested, a ball of light – where she pointed for me to do so. Looking very bored, she motioned for us to follow her.

We continued across the bridge, which spanned a large valley to the College building, which itself is set upon a tall mesa-like rock formation. Along the way, the elf came across numerous glowing wells, in which she cast a spell to gain entry to the building. The bridge had many supports blown out and seemed very unstable, making Ri'saad visibly anxious to get to the other side. It took us nearly five minutes to reach the institution's haunting gates, which swung open to greet us to the courtyard of the College. The student guided us towards a tall statue in the center, where an old man and a High Elf stood in an exchange. They both seemed upset. We approached and heard their parting words.

"That being said, it would be most unfortunate if another slip-up like this occurs again, Tolfdir," the Altmer asserted.

"I will see to it that such accidents go unrepeated," Tolfdir complied.

"Good."

The High Elf left for the main hall. Tolfdir noticed his student had brought us over, and turned to face her. "Faralda? Who would this be?"

"These are from clan Dragon-blood."

"Really, now?" He seemed surprised to have such visitors. Or visitors, at all. "What purpose do you have for coming so far over, Dragonborn?"

"We need further preparation, and when I tried to think of the best places to find knowledge and skill, the College came to mind."

"As it should! However, we cannot just give our things away."

"We have plenty of gold in a carriage," I said, pointing behind. "Besides, I only want some basic scrolls and tomes. We each know some magic, but we have no hard materials to learn more, and I was hoping for at least 20 different documents you could spare."

"At once! I will see what I can do!", he exclaimed, turning to leave.

"Wait, though," I said reluctantly. "My mother, Merah'e, wrote quite a few books on magic. If you happen to have anything from her that you can find, could you bring them to me?"

"We have a lot to look through for something like that. Basic tomes will take maybe ten minutes to get for you, but... I hope you understand. In time, I might have something."

"It's fine, anyways. Thank you."

Tolfdir nodded, turning back again towards the building. My feeling of anticipation had been nulled with disappointment. A few words from Ri'saad filled the void, and brought my attention behind me.

"Speaking of whom, this one never asked about your mother's magic."

"She was, I guess, the most experienced mage I had met until now," I said. "My mother wrote a lot of books, and I learned a lot, willingly. My sister didn't like it as much."

"Oh," he said. "You never mentioned a sister."

"Marel'ja. She... ran away,"

A few moments passed. Rodryck coughed, as though the situation wasn't awkward enough.

"Excuse Ri'saad. Should not have asked."

"It's fine. It was a few days before what happened to my mother," I explained. "Maybe if she hadn't left, my mother would still be around. I wouldn't have tried to escape. I could've... Well, I don't know what I could've done."

"You could not have met this one. Or Rodryck, Lydia, and Helen."

"You're right, but I would rather not have brought you people into this."

Rodryck laid his hand on my shoulder. "As much of a pain in the ass you are, all are, it's... a good kind of pain in the ass," he assured. He put his hand down. "Damn it. You know what I mean."

Next to him, Lydia tried to hide her face. She was obviously laughing.

"Shut up! Damn it, I can't even make a point with you!"

"Point taken, though," I replied. "I guess I couldn't have run from fate, anyways."

"Question is," Ri'saad thought out loud, "Are we a part of the prophecy, or were we in the right places at the right time?"

The question stumped me. "I guess we can't know."

As I began to rethink my reply, Tolfdir returned with a few other college mages, carrying an assortment of tomes and scrolls. The old mage approached me. "These, we have in plentiful supply, so go ahead and keep them if you wish to. We are thankful for your presence, Dragonborn."

"I am thankful for your service," I said. The students wore robes, and although I hadn't been to the College before, it seemed as though they were leaving. "What's with the heavy robes?"

"Oh! You caught us on the day of a trip to a recently-excavated Nord tomb called Saarthal," he exclaimed. "I was hoping to show them some of the history of magic."

"Well, sounds interesting," I said. "We're pretty low on things to do, and... actually, I don't want to waste your time."

"Oh, no! If anything, if you want to come along, it would only help us!"

"Actually, I don't want all of us to come. These books have to get back somehow, and I have an errand to run." I turned back to Ri'saad. "You think you'd want to go, love?"

He seemed caught off-guard, but not un-eased, by the proposition. "It would be a refreshing change of pace, this one supposes."

Tolfdir approached Ri'saad eagerly. "That sounds good to me, then. We will be leaving immediately. Saarthal is quite a ways away, so I should hope you are well-prepared!"

It is this one's turn for journalism. That is the rule. Ri'saad prefers to immortalize records in images, but this does seem less time-consuming. Letting you down, love, is a mistake that each Dragon-blood makes at least once, and soon regrets.

In a certain Breton's case... thrice. You probably enjoy punishing him, anyways.

Our departure for Saarthal was prompt, the valleys white, and the winds so chilled that this one again yearned for the sands of old. The valley swooped downwards, turning up towards the foot of ridged mountains. The depth was both literally and spiritually breath-taking. If Ri'saad had not been taught of the might and resilience of the Nords, this environment would mean personally nothing. The purpose would escape the mind of this one, much as it had probably escaped the other beside me.

"J'zargo hopes for a blanket. Do you have one?", a youthful voice called.

This one jumped, not expecting him to speak so suddenly. "Ri'saad does not have one to give to you. This blanket around my waist is for this one's only," Ri'saad replied.

"Ah," he responded. We continued our pace as the hill grew steeper. "Who are you?"

"How about we try this the other way around?"

"All right. This one is J'zargo," he said. "Well, you know that. This one is a mage with many secrets."

"As is Ri'saad," this one said. "However, the secrets this one is concerned with are likely quite different from yours."

"Ignore differences. We are Khajiit. Practically brothers!"

"Ri'saad's brothers were all of elder years, J'zargo," this one stressed, with nerve. "Also, this one has plenty of siblings to keep in line, and does not require another."

"Well, this one will not prove a nuisance, and may find his way through the shadows rather easily, as you'd expect."

Ah, so he is common as well.

"Ri'saad would more likely expect you to trip over a shrubbery in an attempt to impress this one, whom you wrongfully fail to realize is a superior."

"This one does see superiority of a sort in you," he said with narrowed eyes.

"You should, J'zargo. This one is at least a decade older, with a decade's more worth of experience, and serves a greater man than you."

"J'zargo serves no man," he said, this time with a gaze in this one's direction. His eyes shot poison with the lethality of a blade of swamp grass.

"You are a child," Ri'saad insisted, turning for our eyes to meet.

On impulse, he stopped, and fished through his knapsack. What he pulled out surprised Ri'saad. What he held were two scrolls, inscribed with a sort of spell. His following statement was even more startling.

"J'zargo wrote these scrolls. Could a child do that?", he snarled.

"Well. Yes, but they likely wouldn't work," this one responded. "What are they supposed to do?"

"It is flame cloak spell that only works against undead. Or, well, it should."

"You do not even know if they work?"

"Perhaps you'd like to find out for me, then?"

Ri'saad glared down towards the rolled sheets of paper. "Perhaps. This one would like to take them. No guarantee of return."

"Doesn't matter. J'zargo has ten of them. Name a price."

This one responded with a skeptical gaze. By now, love, you must've realized what a pain the little runt had been.

"Ten."

"No."

"Five."

"By the Twin Moons, higher!"

Ri'saad chuckled. "Fifteen."

"Nope."

"Twenty."

"Not close."

"Twenty-five?"

"No time, old man-"

"Take it all, damn you!", this one shouted, tossing the entire coin purse. You must understand, although quite the prude, this one has little tolerance for foolishness. His mouth hung agape. Perhaps he underestimated this one's wealth.

"J'zargo's impressed, elder," he said. "There's more where this came from, yes...?"

"It is none of your business how much Ri'saad makes, nor how."

This one's parasite for the day fell quiet. Much later than needed. Not just for this one's sanity, though, as a frozen being slithered through the air beyond. Making it's way quickly towards the group, from which he and Ri'saad had fallen behind, it was clear that it's plan was to make a meal out of us. This one drew a fire-bolt spell, as did J'zargo. Our actions were soon echoed by the other scholars. The ice wreath hissed, and immediately darted towards this one.

The barrage of fire-bolts melted the creature rather quickly, so do not worry in the slightest. Tolfdir gave us a quick run-through of what it was. Pretty boring, actually.

"J'zargo is frightened. That was like a dragon! Only probably not as bad."

Ri'saad strode past, with nothing but a sigh to express the shame at being near him. This one could only hope for a dragon; At least there would be something thrilling that J'zargo wouldn't survive.

Returning from my errand in Whiterun, I passed Meranden and Delphine in the merchant house. They were playing a board game that Meranden's father had taught him. It was strategic, and made use of pawns, and had some sort of ridiculous-sounding letter and number system. I didn't make any attempt to understand it.

"So, it's really simple, uh," he verbally stumbled. "You just, you see my pawn, here? You have a clear advantage. Jump ahead here."

"Jump ahead where?"

"You know what, never mind, Delphine. What's up?" he said, looking towards me.

"Oh, I just needed to tell you the supplies are in the carriage, waiting. I'd like to have them sorted in the library, at your convenience. We're in no rush for organization, just get them where we need them."

"Okay, might have problems with that."

"Eh, it's fine. Organize all you want if you'd like," I said, before turning to Delphine. She looked bored, as though she had no better place to be. "Where's Lydia and Rodryck?"

She shifted in her seat to another, equally-relaxed position. "They came by and left. Not sure where they went."

"...Helpful."

I decided to search for them, since I had sent them back without me and wanted to know if they were all right. I found their things. They had to be safe. How could anyone worry about them being in trouble, anyways?

Entering the main dining hall, I was met by a long, empty table and a glowing fireplace. I could smell the aftermath of dinner in the oven, which smelled of steamed mudcrab legs.

They would make my favorite dinner while I'm gone.

"Lydia...", I called, hearing nobody. "Lydia?"

The library was empty. Frankly, I didn't expect to find her there. "You here, Lydia?"

So was the kitchen. Wasn't expecting to find her there, either. "Come on, Lydia."

Her bedroom? Didn't want to go in, so I stayed at the door. "You in there?"

I walked out into the backyard. Empty. "Damn it, Lydia...", I sighed.

It appeared as though neither of them were in the house. I didn't totally care where Rodryck was, though. Lydia couldn't get killed if she tried, since she's a one-woman armory, and nobody tries to fuck with her anyways. Even though her absence was odd, I paid no worry. I pretty much just gave up and went on with my day.