-Chapter II- The Beginning of the End Pt. 2

-Whiterun, Skyrim

-17 First Seed

-1:42 P.M.

-Max

Max stood there, watching Nicholas as he displayed his tremendous skills in the way of swordsmanship, hacking about two or three of the straw dummies laid throughout the courtyard, spraying straw everywhere. Yes, he is the one... Max thought to himself as the seemingly displeased sages watched Nicholas in disappointment.

He walked to where the sages stood, asking them, "So, what do you think? He's got the agility, strength, and is quite clever." He complimented.

"This may be so, but he's hard-headed. He needs to carefully think out his plans before striking." Rood answered.

"I agree, he needs to make his battle plan before doing anything else." Remarked another sage.

"And how come he has only had but a few days of training? Shouldn't he be focusing on improving his skills for an extended length of time?" A third chimed in.

"He'll learn. And besides, no other dragonborn has ever done such a thing, for them it was solely kill or be killed." Max answered. He turned to the third sage. "He has spent his whole life honing his skills in the art of swordsmanship, and is very close to mastering it. And as for the shouts, a dragonborn is a being with a soul of a dragon, whom is able to shout without any training whatsoever, so if he were given any advice in shouting, we wouldn't be able to truly tell if he is destined to be a dovahkiin."

"Although that may be true-" A sage started to intercept before being interrupted by the raising of Max's hand.

"And how exactly, may I ask, would you know anything about Tamriel's history? If I recall, you originated from the 'Pokemon Regions', is that correct? Therefore, technically, you are lucky to have any say in the matter at all. Please be somewhat considerate and at least " Max asked, silencing the sages for a while. Just in time to see Nicholas finish his review.

"How was that?" He asked.

"Very good, Nick." Max assured him, glancing for only a moment at the remnants of the sages.

"I must admit, he is quick, and he lives up to his name. He is agile, powerful, and makes the most of his movements." Which was a statement of which was extremely true, for Nicholas took advantage of whatever position he was currently in. Even whenever he was in the middle of a strike, whether it be another target behind him, and he's practically to the ground, and he spins around, knocking his opponent off their feet, placing them at the ground at his mercy, a trick that Max had taught him when he was still very young. Ever since, Max had become a victim of his own technique.

Yes, he has to be the one. Max thought to himself once more, before heading inside the building with the rest of the group. Now only one more important test was to come to Nick before his training as dragonborn: using a shout.

Only the dragonborn could use a "shout" (draconic words used as magic by humans) without any sort of training. As he started moving a thought struck him: he'd never even seen Nicholas attempt at using the draconic language. Even if he isn't what he seems to be to the others, I know who he really is, dragonborn or not. After all, I have a promise to keep. Max started toward the building, meeting with the others.

"I must admit, I am quite impressed with what you have displayed of your skills, Swiftsword, and hopefully, the test tomorrow shall prove all of our suspicions. After all, you are the son of the former dragonborn!" One of the sages declared, a glass of Blackbriar Mead held high, followed by cheering.

Although everyone else was enjoying the mead and celebration, both Max and Nicholas weren't doing so quite yet, not until it was confirmed. After what seemed of a great amount of time dedicated to the feast, all the people eventually retired to their rooms one by one, readying themselves for the next day.

Max stood in the doorway of his room, which held only a bed up against a wall, with a nightstand to its left, and a desk going along the opposite wall. He lit the candles on the nightstand, and started to pull out a small stack of paper, until he heard feet shuffling behind him. Turning around, he found Nick standing there, watching with a nervous look. Sheathing a small steel blade that he was about to strike with, "What are you doing?" Max asked him, "You need to prepare yourself for tomorrow."

"What is there to prepare for? All I'm doing is going out there, shouting, if I can that is, and more celebration if I do it correctly." Nick argued.

Seeing his point, Max allowed Nick into his room, asking him, "All right, but you have yet to have answered my question. What are you doing?"

"I don't know if I can do this, I've never even attempted to shout before."

"Neither did your father. If you recall, he accidentally came across his power when he had killed the dragon attacking the..." Stopping for a moment to ensure his memory did not deceive him, Max continued, "Western guard tower of Whiterun. When he absorbed the soul of the beast, the guards, dumbfounded, asked for him to test his abilities to shout. When he uttered the draconic words he had discovered in Bleak Falls Barrow, he used the unrelenting force shout, emitting an enormous push in the direction of which he spoke on everything."

"Why was he in Bleak Falls?"

"To do a favor for a shopkeeper in Riverwood. After finding it, he decided to go even further into the dungeon. Eventually he found himself in a large room with a large black wall of titanite with words of the draconic language carved into it, known as a 'word wall', guarded by a sarcophagus. That sarcophagus held a Draugr Deathlord, carrying a dragonstone. Something of which he hadn't a clue what it was, until, that is, when the court wizard of Whiterun, Farengar Secret-Fire, asked him to 'fetch' it for him." A moment of silence followed afterward. "Look, don't worry, you're going to be fine, I know."

"How? How do you know everything's going to be just fine?"

"Because I do. Trust me." Another moment of silence followed.

"Max?" Nick asked.

"Yes?"

"How did you meet?"

"Excuse me?"

"How did you meet my father?"

"We were friends for a while. We met after the event with the Shining Force."

"What was the Shining Force anyway? You talk about it sometimes...but you've never really explained it before."

"It was a small militia. Nothing more."

"Then why is it so well known in Rune?"

"Because we had traveled all over, adding new members. Even a few that no one had ever expected."

"Like?"

Leaning back up against the wall that the bed was up against, Max began to see where this discussion was headed. Here came a trip through memory lane. "Well for starters we had a human-sized hamster, Jogurt." Max told him with a smile, slightly chuckling. "He wore a helmet and pretty much worthless in battle, but we was fun to have around."

"Then why have him? Isn't the point of an army supposed to be strength? If you have someone who can't fight, then they're just a waste of space."

"Not true, even if they can't fight. Then they could be a really nice asset. Like someone to lighten things up, especially if you're in dark times...or healers, they are extremely crucial. If you have no healers or medics, then it's hard not to lose your men. My best friend was a healer, Lowe. Strategy and power are completely different points when it comes to battles and war. You need defense, strength, plans, back-up plans, and of course, faith. Without faith, well you might as well give up now." Max had usually been soft-spoken his entire life, but Nick was...different. The two were very close, as very good friends.

After about a minute of silence, with Max and Nick exchanging awkward looks, Nick broke the quiet, "I guess I should go, it's getting a little late..." Max nodded in agreement and watched as Nick turned and left the small room. Tomorrow, it all truly begins. He thought, lowering his head. He slowly stood, and turned back towards his nightstand and reluctantly retrieved the stack of paper and walked to the desk. He quietly opened one of the drawers and took a quill and a small inkwell, and began writing.