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ACRUS

First Lessons

Town of Winterhold

Acrus' ass hurt like a monster from the uncomfortable carriage ride. One thing he hoped was that if this college accepted him, they'd at least teach him a way to travel with a bit more comfort.

In the old days, his tutor had told him, there had been spells that could make a man levitate or even teleport back to a place where he'd set a magical anchor, but those spells had been lost in time. His tutor had said it probably had to do with the ether not being powerful enough to support the great energies teleporting and levitating required. Acrus thought it was all wash. Those scrolls and tomes had simply been lost in time.

He made a mental note that maybe trying to develop another teleporting or levitating spell might be just the thing he needed to gain renown as a mage. Yes, reinventing those spells would be a goal worth striving for.

But first, he had to hone his skill, and this College of Winterhold seemed the place to do this. After all, if anyone in Skyrim could teach him, it would be the mages and wizards holed up in this College. If they even accepted him. Not that it was a matter of meeting the requirements or having the talent, but if the old biddy in the alchemy shop had been right, the place wasn't taking new members.

But he was determined not to let that stop him. If he showed them he had the talent, they would let him in.

Winterhold itself looked to be a rather insignificant hamlet, he noticed as he hopped off the carriage and paid the driver. Every bone in his body hurt, but he was here at last, so no time to whine. He wouldn't complain about his aching body, nor about the snowfall that chilled him to the bone and made it impossible to see farther than ten metres.

A young guardswoman walking her beat came towards the carriage, and Acrus hailed her in the suave and winning way he was known for. "Greetings, young lady of the guard."

The woman was far less interesting up close as she had been from a distance, her face, mediocre of its own accord, marred by a broad and ugly scar going down from her forehead, around her eye, and down to her lip. Maybe it was a better idea for this one to wear her helmet. "Good morning," she said, with a cheerfulness that was surprising given her rather unlovable appearance. "Here for the College, I assume?"

Even though Acrus found the young woman completely uninteresting, he remained friendly. After all, it wasn't her fault she looked this unfortunate. "Indeed. The staff gave it away, did it?"

The guardswoman smiled, wrenching the ugly scar on her face in an even more hideous pull. "That, and the scrolls sticking out of your bag. Ah, the College," she mused. "I would've stayed if I didn't have two kids to feed all on my own."

Two thoughts immediately jumped into Acrus' mind: You've studied at the College? and Someone made kids with you? He didn't voice either of them and simply said, "Yes, learning magic and supporting a family don't go well together, do they?"

She nodded, her eyes still cheerful. "Indeed they don't. Well, good luck. The College rejects a lot of applicants, but I'm sure you're not just some hopeful dabbler."

"Indeed, do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks." And to add, he quipped, "Usually when I say that, people get really impressed."

She smiled again, still faultlessly friendly. "I'm not so easily impressed. Well, welcome to Winterhold, and I hope you don't mind, but I have to give you our standard line of 'behave yourself and don't make trouble' now. Nothing personal, I'm sure you're very well behaved, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't let you know we're friendly unless you cause trouble."

Well, this cantrip-casting housewife had a job to do, Acrus supposed. "No problem at all. I'll be on my best behaviour." It was most certainly a problem, being treated like a proto-criminal, but if it made the scarface feel better, he was perfectly fine with acting like he didn't mind. "Now, where do I find the College?"

"Oh, of course. It's over there, see the end of the street? There's a bridge there. Can't really see it with all the snow falling but it's there."

"I see. Well, I don't see," he joked, "but I'll find it. Thanks."

She nodded and said, "No problem at all. Good luck."

"I'm sure I won't need luck," he boasted before turning and marching towards the end of the street the woman had pointed out. He hoped it was the last he'd see of her.

The wind drove the snow against his face and into his collar. Gah, at times he loved this land, but at other times he loathed it with every fibre in his body. Squinting against the snow lashing against his face, he could perceive what looked to be a bridge at the end of the street, a faint gray structure rising up.

Just a little further. A guardsman who saw him plod through the snow didn't hide his amusement, laughing a loud, unashamed laugh at what he doubtless perceived as a silly outlander making a fool of himself in the snow. It was something Acrus simply had to endure.

After some more plodding, the snow now finding its way into his shoes, he'd reached the bridge. The guardswoman had been right about that, at least. The snow lessened somewhat as he ascended the stairs, careful of not slipping on the wet and snow-slick stone. Taking a bad step here could mean taking a very painful (not to mention embarrassing) fall.

At the top of the stairs stood a woman who looked middle aged, but the pointed ears told Acrus that trying to pin an age on her would be pointless. She had an unpleasant insectoid face, like all those Altmer women had, and her hair was tied back in two braids, a sort of childlike hairstyle that clashed with her stern and older features.

But she wore a robe, and if she wore a robe, that means she was very likely to be from the College. Possibly even one of the mentors there.

"Another hopeful?" she greeted him. "Unless you're tragically lost?"

"I'm not lost," he panted, winded from the exhaustion of trudging through the snow and climbing the steps. He really had to work on his physical condition. "I'm here for the College."

"You and so many. Well, let's see if we can allow you entry."

"Fine. What do I do?"

"Easy," she said with a smirk. "Make it across the bridge without getting blown off."

The wind was suspiciously strong ahead, blowing and howling between the stones of the bridge, strong enough to blow just about anyone right off, and Acrus was pretty sure it wasn't a natural gale. Indeed, on the Altmer woman's face was, barely perceptibly, a look of intense concentration.

Still, easy. This was clearly a test to see if he knew one of the most basic spells in any hedge wizard's repertoire. Anyone who didn't would probably get blown right off the bridge, splashing in the ice cold river below for a harmless but shameful and freezing rejection.

Not Acrus though. Responding in kind to the Altmer woman's smirk, his mind plucked the necessary strands of energy out of the air and wove them into a Steadfast spell, the typical cantrip beginning mages used to keep from falling down rickety steps when stacking books, or being knocked over by a pig they were trying to catch for dinner.

As he felt his shoes take a firm grip on the stone below, Acrus effortlessly crossed the bridge, the wind having as much effect on him as it would have on a block of solid granite.

The wind promptly died down as he reached the other side, and the Altmer had been right behind him. "Well. Seems like the Inn will not have anyone's clothes to dry tonight. Welcome to the College of Winterhold."

He figured a display of humility was in order. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to learning more about magick."

"Well, let's not be premature. You're not accepted as a student yet. You've only earned the right to enter the College. But," she added, "the ease you cast Steadfast with, and the confidence you had crossing the bridge makes me rather convinced that you're very likely to be a promising candidate."

"Well, let's hope so." Of course he was a promising candidate.

"You can head on through. I suggest you speak to Master Wizard Ervine as soon as you can. She expressly wants all prospective candidates to see her first."

"Very well."

"At the risk of again being premature," the Elf said, showing a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile, "You'll be seeing me again during the lectures on Destruction. I am Faralda, the Senior Wizard teaching the Destruction course."

Oh, damn, this was one of the lecturers. Better make a good impression then. "Honoured to meet you, Senior Wizard. My name is Acrus Vadosus, and nothing would please me more than to take in every word of your lectures."

The Altmer immediately frowned. Agh, that hadn't been a good move. "I liked you better when you were cocky and presumptuous instead of a pandering sycophant."

Dang, it almost always worked, but you couldn't win them all. It was time for some false humility. "I apologize, I tried to show respect, but I'm better with magic than I am with words, it seems."

"Yes, well, my advice to you, don't pretend to be something you're not. You're dealing with mages, after all. What is concealed to most people is very transparent to us."

This wasn't the time to try and challenge the judgments of these people. "Of course," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. Now, I thought you were keen on entering the College?"

"I am." And to make sure she knew he'd listened to what she'd said, he added a casual, "See you."

That only got him a weary sigh. No pleasing some people.

He went on, ascending the second set of stairs, this one higher than the one before, and finding himself in front of a small tower that served as the entrance to the College, it would seem. As he passed beneath it, he noticed the sharp ends of a portcullis sticking out of the ceiling. Seemed the mages here didn't simply rely on spells to defend the place.

The structure ahead of him was built in the same style as the small tower, but it was far bigger. Nowhere near as big as the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, but still the size of a modest keep. He found himself in the courtyard, a large paved circle with an arcane font in the middle, where mages could draw energy to practice their spells. The font was dead in the centre of the courtyard, a narrow dark blue spike of light rising up from the ground. He knew better than to touch it, even though it looked inviting enough. You were supposed to draw from the energies with your mind, and directly coming into contact with a font could lead to serious burns, electrocution or even death depending on the nature of the source.

There weren't many people in the courtyard. One woman stood looking at the font, deep in thought, and two others, men, were at the edge of the courtyard, talking to each other. Acrus supposed he best ask someone where to find this Master Wizard called Ervine. Ervine seemed like a male name, so it probably wouldn't be the woman at the font. Good, then he could ask her without suffering the embarrassment of asking the person in question where he could be found.

He stepped up to the font, the energies brushing past his skin like tiny threads, and cleared his throat.

The woman at the font promptly turned. "Yes?" She was also middle-aged looking, with graying brown hair parted to one side. She wasn't exactly pretty and had a stern frown on her face, even more amplified by her slightly jutting chin.

Were there no good-looking ladies in this College?

Still he didn't know who he was dealing with, so best to stay polite and respectful. "Greetings. I was directed to find Master Wizard Ervine. Do you know where he is?"

The woman let out a chuckle, but didn't sound amused. "Another one. Why does everyone assume a Master Wizard is automatically male?"

What kind of halfwit question was that? "Well... the name, I suppose," Acrus said, trying to stay diplomatic. "Ervine is a male name, isn't it?"

"Yes," the woman said flatly. "Unless it's someone's last name." Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, were you sent to find Master Wizard Ervine by Faralda?"

"I... yes, I was, as it happens," Acrus said, not sure if it was better to tell the truth or lie.

"Thought so," the woman said. "I told her a thousand times already to refer to me by both name and surname." Wait, what? "But of course those confounded Altmer don't understand the concept of name and surname."

"I'm not sure...?"

"Yes, forgive me," she said, looking at least a bit friendlier. "You must be confused. I am Master Wizard Ervine. Mirabelle Irvine."

Oh great. Seemed like the embarrassment of asking the wrong person wouldn't be spared him. Still, the Altmer had given him advice, advice he would take to heart. "Ah, well, not like I had any way of knowing, was there?"

"Indeed," she said sourly. "So, you are a new candidate, are you?" She sounded as if she found the very notion ridiculous, but Acrus imagined she did so to all the new candidates, to make sure they were motivated enough not to be fazed by her dismissive attitude.

"I am," he replied confidently. "Made it across the bridge without any difficulty. If there are more tests, I'd be happy to undergo them?"

"Yes, tests," the woman said, holding a pensive finger to her chin. "Tolfdir?"

The man she'd called out to, an old Nord dressed in frayed robes, turned away from the conversation he was having with the other man and asked, "Yes, Master Wizard?"

"This young man seems confident he'll be able to take our tests and not be found wanting." She sounded much less convinced than he felt.

"Ah, I see." The man said, in a pleasantly surprised tone. Then before Acrus realized what happened, he pulled his hands to his chest and threw them forward, a fiery ball of energy flashing towards Acrus. Instinctively, Arcus snatched threads of protective energy from the air and twisted them around each other, forming a ward. But as he made the threads spin and coalesce into the ward, the flaming ball struck him square in the chest, knocking the wind from him and lifting him off his feet. He came down hard on his back and skidded backwards a few more metres before coming to a stop.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the amused face of the Master Wizard. Great. No better way to make an impression than from down on the ground.

"Now what in Akatosh' name are you doing down there, young one?" the woman asked, her tone nothing short of mocking.

"Well," Acrus tried to defend himself, clumsily scampering to his feet. The fireball had had mostly displacing force and not much heat. Still, the front of his tunic was warm to the touch and his chest felt like it had been struck by a giant's fist. "It was hardly fair. It's not like I was ready for that fireball or anything."

"Ahh," the old man said, amused. "So you can only defend yourself against the things you're warned of?"

"That's not what I mean," Acrus snapped, nervous that he'd failed the test and his application for the College would be, in a manner of speaking, torn to shreds before his eyes. "I can hardly be expected to be prepared for a sudden fireball when I'm in the College, can I?"

"And here, lesson one," the Master Wizard said imperiously. "You never have an excuse for not being prepared."

The old man weighed in, "Magic is powerful, but power won't save you if you're not in time to bring it to bear. You might think that as a mage, you'll never have to fear the common folk, but you must never underestimate how quickly an arrow is fired or an axe is swung. No amount of magic can save you if you're not always on your guard."

Acrus angrily slapped the snow off his breeches. "So I have to be careful of everyone while I'm here?"

"While you're here?" the old Nord echoed. "No. In here, the worst that can happen is that you take an embarrassing trip to the floor." Gravely, he said, "Out there. That is where you have to be careful."

"A mage's power," the woman took over, "is respected and looked up to, but it is also feared and envied."

"Well, it doesn't matter does it?" Acrus grunted. "I failed your test."

At this, both mages laughed.

"We can teach you to be prepared, child," the old man laughed. "We can teach you many things. What we can't teach you, however, is raw talent, which you already demonstrated you have, and the ability to think on your feet."

"Which I've shown I don't have?" Acrus said, upset at how the two made light of his failed test. How could they stand there laughing about something which meant so much for him?

"On the contrary," the Breton woman said gently. "Every single one of our candidates makes a trip to the ground the first time."

"But," the old man said, "All of them went down without even getting their ward spell off." He pointed at the place Acrus had stood when the fireball had struck him. "All of them except you."

Making a soft sibilant sound and gently flickering, and visibly flimsy due to the incomplete casting, the ward barely but surely kept itself in the air.