{ === + === }
As Ash and the rest of the company prepare for assisting the Imperial Army with their invasion of Whiterun, Aria's party of five heads north as travelers, first to Dawnstar, then Winterhold. The reason for this path is simple: Sailing by boat to Winterhold would attract less attention than going overland via giant spectral wolves. Also, more pragmatically, Aria wasn't about to let the girls travel over long distance by wolf: too stressful for all involved. Thus, while having made comparatively worse time than if they were to just ride wolves the entire way, the party landed at Winterhold some eight days after departure.
Winterhold was, in many ways, Solitude but in miniature: built on a peninsula, the perennially brisk city of Skyrim's magical knowledge lacked a wall, but had the most formidable navy in all of Skyrim, and its sailors were routinely hired by the Imperial navy for their expertise in navigation and handling. The city itself was divided into three major regions: the northeastern peninsula that made up the College of Winterhold and its support, the northern western side that was the docks and wharves, and the south eastern side that was the nobility and their naval yards.
The College of Winterhold itself, compared to its game incarnation, is less insane. The damage suffered by the College in the past had only managed to drop the surrounding terrain in a somewhat gentle slope into the ocean as opposed to hollowing out cliff like an eaten apple with only the core remaining. Falling down said slope would still consume at least an hour of a person's day, but at the very least it wasn't an instantaneous death. The entrance to the College, rather than one giant terrifying rock bridge, was now a significantly less terrifying, winding slope, large enough to accommodate small stalls to the left and right of the very labor-intensive slope plus stairs up to the College.
Aria's party lands at dusk and finds rooms, accompanying other parties with magically oriented children.
"Hey, Saph." Aria asks Sapphire. "How often do families send their kids up here?"
Sapphire wasn't too fond of the nickname, but lets it slide. "To the best of my knowledge? Any family with money and no local options." She plays with her knife and some cheese. "The College aside, there are a other places that teach book learning here, and even a little education goes a long way when there's little else of options." She shrugs. "But simply having connections is better."
"Hm." Aria watches as Atra and Alma survey their competition while munching on some bread. "Are we in danger of not being able to get in?" She asks next.
Sapphire shrugs harder. "Fuck if I know." They both listen in to the next table in the inn as the parents review some key points with their progressively more anxious eight year old. "But I'd hate to be in their shoes."
…
The next day, the party asks around and arrives at Winterhold's Office of Admissions, a large and official-looking building in the heart of the city. Aria's first impression of the insides of the building was that it bears some superficial resemblance to the insides of the Rosebell, if built for administrative work rather than entertaining guests. She finds one of the three receptionists sitting idle and approach.
"Hello there." The nice, if somewhat tired-looking Nord receptionist greets. "May I be of service?"
"Hello, how do we get into the College?" Alma asks, bouncing slightly on her feet.
The Nord lady smiles at Alma and turns her attention to Aria: not the first time a child spoke out of turn. "The general education test is held every Loredas." Two days from now. "After passing that, they may take the entrance test to the College of Winterhold proper."
"What's the test like?" Atra asks.
The Nord lady smiles at her. "The test is in three parts. First is a written test." The girls' faces fall. "And then the magical aptitude test, along with a skills test if applicable." She gives the girls a firm gaze. "You can only take the other practical tests after passing the written test, so keep that in mind."
The Nord lady was inwardly giddy with glee. It wasn't that she wanted to crush the dreams of children, it was that the College's previous rules allowed many who were solely interested in the power of magic, and subsequent issues that arose from such a focus reflected badly upon Winterhold. No, she rather enjoyed watching the parents, who had the money but not the knowledge to know what to do with it, and their sudden realization that they had skimped on key aspects of their child's education, and their subsequent panic to get into remedial classes to make up the differences. The fact that she got a kickback from these schools for doing so was an interesting little bonus.
"Might as well do some review." T'nerem says, taking out a stack of six books that the Nord lady could see were...very much so beyond the level of an eleven year old merchant. Atra and Alma each pick one and plop themselves down on a bench, along with some paper.
"Is there a need to register or the like?" Aria asks next.
What's nobility doing all the way out here? The Nord lady conceals her frown. Wouldn't it be easier to just hire a tutor if they want to learn magic? "While each test has a limit on how many people can attend, everyone who wants to enter will be tested." Her Customer Service smile turns a little more...genuine. "Not to worry: result aside, the start is always the same."
Next table over, the parent of a heavily embarrassed child explodes with fury. "How dare you!" He slams a scroll on the table. "We have a recommendation from the College of Winterhold itself, and you still expect us to take a test to enter?!"
Glad we didn't pull that card out yet. Aria notes with some relief. The Nord Lady catches her minute body language.
"Sir." The clerk (Nord Lady But With Silver Hair) says sternly. "A letter of recommendation is respectable, but entrance is still dependent on skill. The letter will be useful once you have entered, not before."
The child―a boy about thirteen years old―mumbles for his father to drop the issue, but the father launches into a tirade about his own accomplishments and how 'the clerk should know their place' before a guard respectfully taps the man on the shoulder and escorts the Breton out at blade point.
"Does that happen often?" Aria asks as the boy apologizes on his father's behalf and sits on the bench, a little distance from Atra. "That kind of...determined interest."
"More often than I care to admit." Nord Lady sighs. "Letters of recommendation are more useful once the student is legally an adult, as adults can simply apply to test into the College directly." She gives a meaningful look to Aria. "Of course, having one at any time doesn't hurt."
Aria understands, and debates a little on showing the letter, then decides that having one confidant can't hurt. "They have these." She takes out a pair of envelopes from a hidden pouch and hands them over, all stealthy-like. The clerk inwardly thanks Aria for not acting as if the letters were a result of their collective efforts.
The Nord Lady takes them, and the contents almost makes her lose her professionalism. Within the envelopes were two true letters of recommendations. Not 'I think your child will do good at the College once they get there', but 'show this letter and you get automatic entry'. Moreover, it was a pair of letters for the Arcane University, which was still the highest learning institution in all of Tamriel, and were guaranteed and co-signed by the Imperial Military Battlemages. As far as guarantees go, these were the best of the best. Even more, the guarantor is a battlemage is active service, so checking for fakes would be especially easy.
No wonder. The Lady notes, her eyes still bugging out. If they showed this right off the bat, the girls would never have another quiet day again.
Aria, of course, catches the sudden shift in attitude. "It is what it is." She smiles, and takes back the letters despite the Lady grasping them firmly.
"I'm happy to have been of service." The Nord Lady says diplomatically. "My name is Allura, a pleasure."
…
Meanwhile, Atra notes, but doesn't react to, the sudden outburst by the parent, or the child coming over to sit.
"Hell, father, why do something like that..." The boy sighs. All eyes in the building, including some dozen other kids, were on him, and he was very much so nervous. As a result, he found it very difficult to do anything beyond looking awkwardly at the ceiling.
"It be like that sometimes." Alma says, repeating (down to the intonation) one of Jake's favorite sayings. "No bigs. Want something to read?" She smiles brightly at him. "What's your name?"
"Ah, uh..." The boy coughs. "I'm Simon, it's a pleasure." He bows slightly.
Both girls and T'nerem clock that the name was very foreign to Skyrim. "Where are you from?" Alma asks next.
"Bruma, in Cyrodill." Simon says, nervous.
"Kind of far just to go to school." Atra says. "It's practically the opposite side of the country." She knows enough about Tamirel to know that anywhere that's not in Skyrim would be the 'opposite side of the country'.
Simon shifts in the way that both girls have seen often from visitors of the Bell with things to hide. "It's complicated." He mutters. Both know well enough to avoid prying, lest there be unexpected consequences. Jake tended to toss those unintended consequences out of the building.
"Well, that's fine, then." Alma smiles at him again. "I'm Alma, that's my sister, Atra." Atra bows. "Oh, looks like she's done." She sees Aria walking towards them. "We're lodged in the Frozen Hearth, so if you're bored, let's play some time."
"Uh, right." Simon nods, his discomfort replaced by utter confusion as the team of girls leave.
…
…
The next two days was a mix of Sapphire scoping out Winterhold and keeping tabs on the state of the Thieve's Guild network in the city, Aria being incredibly bored and repeatedly leaving the city to kill things nearby, and the Girls reviewing and re-reviewing their ability to read and write, with a little magic practice in between.
Soon enough, the two days ended, and on the crisp morning of the test, the party (minus Sapphire) head off to the administrative building for their test.
"Just in case." T'nerem says right before they enter. "Avoid using Warwolf specific magic. No telling what it would look like." The girls nod.
"You're talking like they're going to pass that first test." Sapphire notes with a raised eyebrow.
T'nerem looks at her with a look of utter confusion. "Well...yeah."
No pressure or anything. Aria notes.
Aside from Atra and Alma, there were roughly sixty other children who were taking the test. There exists two testing rooms, each allowing five people on a first-come first-serve basis in the 'room's open and we have five seats' kind of way.
In a way, this itself was also a test―the children who have the bravery, confidence, or childlike innocence tend to go first, and the first two qualities were desirable, the third respectable. Those who hang behind or have to be pushed into the test were...not. Unfair, considering nerves are normal, but such is life.
Thus, Atra and Alma ended up picking different rooms, their nervousness counteracting their innate confidence and putting them roughly in the middle of the pack. They enter with a band of children who are all at or slightly above their age.
The test room is sparse. One long table and a bench, enough room for five to sit and have a little distance from each other without feeling claustrophobic, but little else. In front of each student is a few pages, a tablet of slate, and some chalksticks. The pages were the testing instructions and the slate the board on which they will write their answers. Notably, the slates were heavy for children, and not all children were of the same size, so moving them around was a planned necessity. Either be strong enough to dictate the terms of the test, or be smart enough to work around it.
Of the other children in the two girls' tests, most were older or were within trade families and thus had no issue positioning the slates to their own liking after taking a moment to understand the situation. Atra and Alma instead adjusted their sitting posture and papers to be more comfortable as soon as they sat down.
"Look at this, everyone." One of the two proctors in the room says, his hands on a sand hourglass. "Once the sand runs out, your time is up. Until then, do the best you can to answer the questions, ok?" The kids all nod. "Alright, start." He turns over the half-hour-glass, signaling the start of the twenty minutes. So she was reading the test already? He notes how Atra had not look up at all.
Atra and Alma, upon sitting down, had already scanned the pages for the test. They were able to do so because the instructions were very simple, far simpler than the research notes Ash had let them read. The fact that they were very simple disturbed her, because she was expecting a significantly scarier test and not one that was, y'know, designed to see if children knew the basics of reading and writing beyond what they did for their day job.
Thus, both girls spent about three minutes writing in the slate before raising their hand to show that they were done with their test.
"Done already?" The proctor says, walking over at the slate. He marvels at Atra's neat, organized, Jake-inspired handwriting and scans it for any largely visible errors, sees none, and smiles at her. "Stay seated until everyone else has finished." The girl nods and goes to review her work.
Good upbringing, that one. The proctor notes with pride.
In the other room, the proctor frowns at the Ash-like chaotic chicken scratch that was Alma's handwriting. It was organized in rows if he squinted really, really hard, and...well, it seems legit. "Alright, stay put until everyone else is done." Alma starts fidgeting almost immediately.
…
With the twenty minutes past, all the children are told to leave. The proctors review the fairly easy test, write down the names of those who passed, and prepare the site for the next batch of students after a nice minute or two of cleaning up.
Once every student has finished testing, the results are tallied and the testing rooms redesigned for the practical test. The parents, more nervous than the students, wait for their children to be called. After a fashion, the Proctor comes out with a slate of names. Atra and Alma's names were somewhere around the middle.
So the test is just a pass fail thing, huh? T'nerem notes with a slight eye roll. She, along with Aria and like the other parents, enter the testing site to observe. Ultimately, only around a third of the students actually pass. The ones that don't are almost immediately swarmed by tutors and private teaching institutions promising to teach them how to read and write for the test in a week or less.
"Welcome to the big boys club." The Proctor says to the students who have passed. "The next test is pretty easy." He gestures to an unlit torch that's been bolted to the center of the wooden floor, with a large carpet/bedsheet set some distance away. "Light the torch up without leaving that carpet. Obviously, if you burn the building down, we're going to have words with the guard." Some of the parents laugh. "And, of course, parents, this is about what your child can do, so no butting in." He smiles. "Now, who wants to be first?"
Atra and Alma both glance at Aria, who gives a small shake of her head. They quiet sit back and watch as another child, a bright and fiery red-headed Imperial girl stride confidently onto the carpet. She turns to look at the torch and the nearly three-meter distance wipes the smile off her face. She's, like, ten, so the fact that the distance was significantly further than advertised causes her to panic, and after a moment of silence marked by nervous giggles from the onlookers, she rushes off and cries into her parents' arms.
"Yeah, the distance is pretty long." The Proctor laughs good-naturedly. "You get to go again if you didn't use any magic."
A Nord boy, shrugging, walks up into the carpet, squares himself against the torch, gathers the Flames into his hands, and shoots it at the torch. They go about a meter before petering out in a rather sizable conflagration. He grits his teeth and tries to shoot it farther, but lacks the know-how and, thus, drains his small pool without hitting the torch or generating heat at all.
"Not bad, not bad." The Proctor says. "But, not passing. Next!"
One by one, the children go and try their hand at blazing the torch. A handful succeed. Atra and Alma waits towards the very end, and by the time their turn came around about six other children had hit the torch enough to be considered a passing grade. The two of them go rock-paper-scissors.
Alma wins, so she goes first. She gets both feet onto the carpet and creates a ball of fire. With expert aim she throws it at the torch, lighting it without issue.
The proctor nods. As expected. "Well done, well done, you pass." He claps.
Alma walks off and gives the up and coming Atra a high-five as the torch is doused and replaced with a new one. Atra waits politely until the proctor gives her a go ahead, and she fires a near picture-perfect gout of Flames at the torch, causing it to smoke and light.
Not as impressive as her sister, I see. The proctor notes. "Congratulations, you pass...yes?" Atra's hand goes up.
"Will this give us entry to the College of Winterhold?" She asks.
The Proctor pauses. "...no, there is an additional test you must take if you wish to enter the College at your age." He says. "But that's given by the College itself." The test given here was honestly not designed for children who have a strong magical background, scaled as it was to send students to the many institutions of various quality around the College. "In case the clerk was not clear, that is the skills test." He adds. "It's offered by the school or group you wish to join."
The day moves on, and the proctors prepare armbands for those who have passed the tests: those who passed the basic education test gets a red one, and those who have passed the basic magic test gets an ice blue one. As soon as the families leave the testing hall, some of the less scrupulous houses of magic immediately swarm them with offers and deals. Notably, they leave those with the ice bands alone.
"Can't get those who are already skilled." One parent say with notable disdain as she guards her somewhat overwhelmed daughter from the circling vultures.
"Hey, you. Atra, Alma." The red-haired girl from earlier says, zeroing in on the two. Aria made no shift for defense, so the girls took it to mean that she was friendly. "Where'd you learn to use magic like that?"
"Our father taught us." Alma says, and didn't elaborate further.
"Oh, uh..." The girl blinks. "Then...why come here?"
"Our father wants us to do some research." Atra says with a nod towards the College of Winterhold. "So that's where we're going next."
The girl's face shines with excitement. "Can I come watch?"
Aria, pretending not to listen, frowns.
Atra frowns as well. "Um..." She looks at the adults flanking, but very much so standing behind, the girl.
The girl didn't seem to care. "Can I?" She asks Atra specifically.
"Uh..." Atra looks to Aria, who gives a 'what's one more' kind of body language. "Sure...?"
"What's your name?" Alma asks. "Kinda weird to just show up like this."
"Oh, right." The girl gives a strangely upper-class curtsy despite her bundle of furs. "I'm Valeria Vautrine." She gives a big smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Aria has a vague sense of recognition of the last name, but otherwise nobody knows who she is. A fairly tall Breton with long, well-kept, flowing red hair, a face of curiosity and a body of that childlike rambunctious strength, hidden underneath what seems like fifteen layers of furs.
Alma returns the big friendly smile. "Pleasure." She half-asses what she recognized as a fairly upper-crust greeting. "Why are you up here in Winterhold?"
"Weeeell..." Valeria scratches her face. "This and that...?" She nervously adjusts the red armband.
Aria clears her throat. "Regardless, we're on a timer. Let's go, ladies."
"Right." Atra and Alma fall in behind her.
From a distance, Sapphire observes the new girl that joins the party along with the entourage of two bodyguards. Vautrine... She smirks. If memory serves, they're a new merchant family in Cyrodill that got big as a result of the Oblivion Crisis from way back when. The family's setting up shop in Riften, so what's the second daughter doing all the way out here? Her smirk turns slightly dangerous. Well, fine. Whatever family feuds they have is none of our concern.
…
Along the way, they meet Simon, who also wears a red armband. Through Alma's near bullying, he also gets to join along on their trip to the College of Winterhold's office of admissions.
"I see." The clerk says after Aria explained the reason why they were there (the whole Dragon business). "The test for entering the College as well as full access to the library and all of its contents is to have a mock battle with a Journeyman-ranked mage and win." He glances at Atra and Alma. "Failing that, a letter of recommendation from an established institution will work."
Aria debates on this. The letter was not meant to be used for the College of Winterhold, and to use it now would be potentially robbing the girls of a potentially very bright future for something that wasn't even guaranteed to be useful. But as the girls were the ones who have it, if they decide to use it...
Regardless of the adults' misgivings, Atra had already made her decision. "We'll take that fight." Alma nod furiously.
"I applaud your courage." The clerk says. "We'll get one of our mages, so please wait for a little while."
…
The girls only had to wait for a short five minutes before a mage was called, and the group followed the mage to an outdoor ring, large enough for little maneuvers but little else. Their opponent was a Breton in his thirties, lanky and tall for his width, well kept, and carried about him an air that he would prefer to be somewhere else at this time of day. Also included is a scent of alcohol and smoke.
"Alright, here's the rules." The mage says. "Make me give up." He grins. "Of course, if you do something crazy and knock me out, I won't be able to do that." He glances at Aria. "Just so you know. You can both participate at once." Aria nods at that: it was a test about responsibility, not raw power.
"Fine by us." Atra says, frowning. The conditions were basically set up so that the bar of passing rests completely on the mage and practically nothing else. "Alma, let's go." She unclips her sword, so she can use it with its sheath.
"Ayep." Alma does the same. Both of them have proper short swords, though in their hands it's still quite big. "Formation?"
"Striker." Atra charges at the mage as Alma starts casting.
Oh, not bad. The mage smirks as Atra gets into range. Their positioning shows training. Alma moves so she can get a clean hit without hitting Atra. He makes no effort to protect himself.
Knew it. Atra scowls. "Hammer!" She calls out and breaks off.
"Oh come on!" Alma switches her spell. "That's rude!" She fires off two bolts of lightning.
The mage throws up a Ward, blocks the lightning, and blinks in surprise as he feels his palm tingle. He then casts a Ward against the much closer Atra, who had moved to get out of his line of sight but wasn't quite far enough. Must be unused to fighting in cold weather.
His ward vanishes.
"Tap." Atra pokes the bug-eyed mage on his arm with a small, mischievous smile. Her smile fades as quickly as the faint blue light behind her eyes, though.
"Charm, too?" The mage says, then laughs. "Alright, alright, you two pass. How'd you cancel my ward?"
"Secret." Atra says and reholsters her sword and gives Alma a high-five. "Nice~!"
"Wait, wait wait wait wait." Valeria says. "You can fight?!" She had expected the two to do what everybody said a mage was supposed to do: sit and cast spells. "You have swords?!"
"Can I see?" Simon asks, eyes full of curiosity. "Where did you get swords at your age?"
"They're ours. Duh." Alma says, pouting, but she hands over her sword. "Papa made them."
The mage is at attention at that.
"Wow." Simon, knowing nothing about swords, can only marvel at the fact that the work in his hand was, in fact, sharp and pointy. Valeria's in the same boat. "What's this?" He points to some writing etched at the base of Atra's sword.
"It's it's name." Atra says. "Venture."
"And mine's Wander." Alma says proudly.
"Do you mind if I take a look, ladies?" The mage asks.
"Un? Sure." Atra says, and Valeria hands it over.
The mage, while not a smith, has enough experience with swords to differentiate quality when he sees one. So...who has enough money to spend on a sword of this caliber, get it engraved with a smith of this caliber, and yet not have enough left over to hire the best tutors in the Empire? Ash had, by using Replace, etched the names of the weapons in beautiful, Lord-of-the-Rings-elvish-esque cursive, which would be incredibly difficult to do with a chisel and a hammer. Ah, of course, Dragons. The mage reminds himself of the girls' stated reason to be here.
"Done?" Atra says, tapping her feet in irritation. She doesn't like the man for how much he stank of wine.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He hands the sword back over and marvels at how she, without looking, sheathes it with a professional flourish. "I have many questions, but they would be uncouth to ask. In any case, you both hereby have admission into the College of Winterhold." The clerk hands over two sets of tassels, meant to be attached to the armbands. "Honestly? I heard you're just here to look into the Dragon business, but if you want to stay and be students we'd be happy to have you." He crouches, making the children take a step back. "And you gotta tell me how you broke my ward just like that."
"No." Alma says. "You stink." With that self-declared victory, she attaches the tassels to her armband and turns to leave. The mage just grins.
…
With that settled, the party gains entry to the College of Winterhold, as well as free lodgings at a dormitory nearby. The next day, they make their way into the College in earnest.
"Y'know," T'nerem notes as they walk up the slope, flanked on both sides by stalls being visited by students. "This would be kinda cool if I wasn't worried about siding and falling to death.
"No OSHA compliance, as dad would say." Atra sighs. "It should be ok if they're selling things." She watches a student stumble rather dangerously before regaining his footing. "Maybe."
The group arrives at the gate to the College's main building. Like the game, the College was a structural ring with significant underground constructions. Unlike the game, almost all of the available floor space within the College is dedicated to classes and materials for those classes, leaving little, if any, room for living spaces.
Per their initial discussions, Aria and T'nerem immediately bounded for the library, while Atra and Alma got a guided tour and an overview of the classes offered. One of the reasons why they had volunteered, apart from wanting to be useful, was that they wanted to learn something to impress Ash. Another was just their innate curiosity―it wasn't as if they poked around Ash's notes for shits and giggles.
The College of Winterhold's class structure is built around the fact that the education in Skyrim for non-nobles is, at best, spotty, and necessities do arise. Thus, as opposed to a curriculum designed around sections of time, the classes are designed to act in solidarity. For example, the classes that the sisters has their eyes on begins in five minutes, and is the second lecture in a series of nine classes. Completing the class grants credits, and having enough credits allows graduation and accreditation.
More exactly: do enough classes for destruction, take the final exam for, say, Destruction Magic, and you get accredited for Destruction Magic. Those who value the prestige will care, those that don't, won't. It's a great system for nobles to show up for a cluster of tests, get a title for it, pay out, and leave.
For now, the party of adults makes their way to the library. Once there, Aria explains their mission to the head librarian, the venerable Orc Urag Gro-Shub.
After hearing the story, he strokes his beard. "Hmm. I believe my records about the library's contents are accurate...the most relevant material that can assist would be a set of books." He motions of Aria and T'nerem to follow. "It would be these..." He goes through the shelves and brings out two books, named 'Effects of the Elder Scrolls' and 'Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls'. Worryingly thin books with plenty of recent-looking wear.
Aria whistles. "So the Elder Scrolls really exist? Well, shit."
"All legends are real at some point." Urag says with a chuckle. "It just varies from time to time." He scratches his beard again. "Look for me if you need anything else."
She and T'nerem start reading and, after about half an hour, start looking around for additional supplementary material. It doesn't look good in terms of finding things at a good speed.
"Fuck me running." Aria sighs after four hours and surveys their now very cluttered desk.
T'nerem nods slowly. "So..."
"Yeah." Aria feels like she should also leave and kill something. If only they had an easy source to reference.
…
Atra and Alma, after their tour, feel a little peckish, buy some roasted apples with their pocket money, and then look at the offering of classes available for the rest of the day.
"Let's see..." Atra looks at the Winterhold clock. "There's a class on Destruction magic that's going to start soon, shall we do that one?"
"Sure." Alma says. "Let's go and not show off too much."
Due to the necessity of managing time, Winterhold has the most sophisticated clock system, with all education institutions in the city having a simple clock synced to a trio of clocks in the College of Winterhold. They're separated into eight, rather than twelve, and are re-synced every Sunday/Sundas.
They, after a little effort, find the hall that the class was supposed to take place in―the labelling was terrible―and find around thirty students or so, nearly all adults, chatting in small groups. Naturally, conversation peters out when they see a pair of kids nearly half their age walk into the room. Atra and Alma, even among the kids, are at the rock bottom of the age range.
"Hello!" Alma greets enthusiastically. Some of the students reply in kind. "We're Atra and Alma, pleased to meet everyone!"
"Hello to you too!" A perky Nord lad six years older greets back. "Wow, you girls are pretty special, to enter the College at your age." He smiles. "If you need anything, just let us know, ok?"
With the ice reasonably broken, the chatter restarts, some focused on the two new youngest children in class, until the teacher shows up a minute or so later.
"I assume this is everyone?" The teacher, a gentleman later in his years with a mane of greying hair, says. As all classes in Whiterun are of the pass/fail variety, he doesn't bother ensuring student attendance―those who travel all the way here just to play around should fail all they want. "Then let's start." He takes a chalk strapped to a stick and draws a circle on the ground. "As this is the second of nine classes on combat runes, I believe all of you should know what this is."
Atra and Alma, with a little difficulty, identifies it as a Fire Rune, of the 'stand on it and it explodes' kind. One by one, the other students all identify the Rune.
"Good." He points to one of the students with his staff. "Now, why is this a Fire Rune?"
The student clears his throat. "Well, uh. The script on the top-left part is one aspect of the elemental fire."
The teacher nods and points to another student. "What about you?" The second student identifies a different part of the circle. This continues for a few more before the teacher points to Atra. "Hello, new face." He says, a little stern, but not unfriendly. "Anything you see that you find interesting?"
"Uhm..." Atra wasn't sure what to say. This Fire Rune just has too many inconsequential parts to it, and all of the useful ones have already been pointed out. She settles on shaking her head.
"That's alright." The teacher says, smiling, and looks at Alma. Alma shrugs―Ash paid little attention to placement Runes and she cared even less. The teacher nods. "Alright. Lesson for the day: copy and draw a rune of fire and detonate it." His smile drops. "Being hurt by your own spell may be normal during practice, but remember that hurting yourselves too much is considered a mark of incompetence."
In other words, use wards. Atra notes. Since Ash very rarely used Fire Runes, the two of them take a closer look at the drawn Fire Rune. Then, they meticulously copy the rune onto a little notebook they had with a fountain pen disguised as a quill, quite possibly the most impressive piece of enchantment that Ash has done to date.
The quill has a soulstone core, refined into a fine line, enchanted with a little spell that uses magic and turns water into coloring. Unlike ink, it only lasts for about an hour before drying out and vanishing. Were it not for the time limit, it would be an instrument of such value where acquisition via murder would be more than justified.
After copying the circles, the two of them move away from the rest of students in this large, spacious, but annoyingly chair-less room, take off their cloaks, and sit. Atra snaps her fingers and bring out a magelight, and the two study the circle in silence.
"For kids, their focus is commendable." A Khajiit student says with a chuckle. "They have a good background."
The teacher takes his time to work with the students that, as of the previous class, showed that they were having trouble, and circles around to the two little girls last. Thus, he was rather surprised to see that they had copied the circle, but had scratched out significant parts of it and replaced it with their own writing. They also had what seemed to be a little notebook of key phrases that seemed both new and well-used at the same time. The teacher just smiles, asks about their progress (they were fine) and moves on.
An hour later, the students reconvene with their answers.
"Alright, you get to draw two circles." The teacher says. "One using a stick, and one using your mind." He makes a 'throwing' action and a Rune appears on the floor some distance away. "Don't get too carried away, now." He tosses what seems to be a little sack with beans into the Rune. It explodes, and the sack lazily sails into the air and hit the ground, slightly warm. "It's five Septims if you lose it." He grins, and toss it to the first pair of students.
They take a little time to discuss who does what. Student A uses the stick to draw a Fire Rune, and it explodes as soon as he finishes with a puff of smoke.
"Put more guts into it." The teacher laughs. "Next!"
Student B 'throws' his Rune. Nothing happens.
"Can't do that if your mind lacks the vividly clear image." The teacher says. "Next!"
The rest of the students go one by one, with a general success rate at a good 25%, until Atra and Alma were finally up. Atra draws her circle, and toss the sack into it.
Nothing.
The teacher gives one glance over her spell and smiles. "While I appreciate the ingenuity, I'll advise you to make sure the spell works before modifying it in any way. Like in cooking, you want to understand the recipe and reproduce it before making any changes."
Atra sulks, but silently agrees. Alma fares no better, having less interest in magic overall her circle had the same flaws, if more pronounced. Though the fact that she was able to 'throw' one was commendable.
Everyone gets homework of the 'make this work on your own time' variety.
…
As the class finishes, the teacher thanks the students for coming to class, then moves to the teacher's lounge to consolidate his notes. As he enters the lounge, he notes the figure of an Altmer that causes him to frown, but he hides his distaste well enough.
"Welcome back." The Altmer says with political cheer. "How was your class? Everything go well?"
The teacher picks his words carefully. "The students are all very enthusiastic. And how fares your research, Ancano." It wasn't a question, just a pleasantry.
"Fruitful." The sitting Ancano smiles, not turning to face the teacher. "The College's trove of knowledge is, as always, deep beyond reason."
The teacher moves to his desk. "Is that so."
Ancano's smile doesn't go away, nor does it become any more genuine. "I heard that two very promising students has found their way to the College. Do you happen to know about them?"
Atra and Alma, despite their age, did not stand out all that much in class. "No, I do not." The teacher says dismissively, and gets into his work.
Ancano wasn't expecting a straightforward response anyway―as a known Thalmor diplomat, there was no way in hell anybody deep in Stormcloak territory would willingly look at him with anything approaching neutrality, regardless of their own stated positions.
I wasn't expecting Warwolf to appear here of all places. Ancano notes. But since they're children, it might be easier to get that cipher from them. He makes his decision and start looking around for a good opportunity.
That opportunity showed itself some two weeks later. The more dangerous of the two girls' guardians, the white-haired lady, had left the city for some reason, probably related to their ongoing quest of searching for information about Dragons. Fools, the lot of them: the Thalmor had already turned the libraries of the College upside down for any scrap of information on Dragons, and if they couldn't find any, then there's no possibility of two random peasants from nowhere to succeed.
Regardless, he found the two girls after one of their classes. Fortuitously, it was a class on ancient societies, which was at least tangentially related to his own field of study.
Ancano does what he always does when visiting after a class: politely greet the students as they leave and attempt to engage in conversation. Most of the students, already from a society distrustful of the Thalmor, give very template replies and do not stop to engage in further conversation, not that he cared, though it did help to pretend.
"Hello there." Ancano greets the two girls as they leave the class. "Do you find this class interesting?"
"It's nice." Alma says, cautious. "I like it."
Ancano smiles. "Glad to hear it. Pardon my rudeness, I am Professsor Ancano, aide to the Archmage and the head of the Department of Magical Artifacts. I assume the two of you are the newest, and brightest, students of the College?"
Atra nods, also cautious.
Ancano bows slightly. "I'm honored. Word of your father has reached Winterhold, after all. For his achievements in retaking Whiterun for the eminent Jarl Balgruuf, he only deserves the highest of honors."
Atra didn't trust him, but anybody who knew Ash and Balgruuf was probably not a bad person. "What can we help you with?"
Ancano laughs lightly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. I'm just here to recruit for my class, come three days from now." He winks at them. "I'd like it if you two could listen in and tell me how you feel about it afterwards."
The girls didn't see a problem with that. "Ok."
About three days later, they listen in on his class―a lecture about the elusive and possibly fictional Psijic Order and its relation to Skyrim and its magical history―and find the entire thing either over their heads in terms of its presented complexity, or just inherently very dry. Not historians, the girls. They say as much to Ancano after the class.
He laughs it off. "I get that a lot. I'm sorry to say that I lack the charm that most teachers and tutors have on their charges." He looks a little sheepish. "Still, I hope that the possibility of the Order has piqued your interest?" Truthfully, Atra could see it―as Ancano described it, the Psijic Order specialized in magic that drew power from a source deeper and more...inherent, in nature than the magic that they were aware of. That sounded very familar.
Ancano could see his open-ended description cause Atra to start drawing the connections that he was expecting. "Next week, I have something planned that, hopefully, will be interesting."
…
Of course, once Aria came back from her trip out of the city, the two girls immediately told her everything, to which her response was a blunt. "I don't trust him."
T'nerem was a little more measured. "Not that I'm going to judge someone based on their home, but I don't have the best impressions of a group that, y'know, once put Ash in a dungeon." She sighs. "Of course, he'd tell us not to judge based on appearances."
"How goes the search?" Atra asks.
"Badly." Aria admits. "The one guy that would have known about the Elder Scrolls is living by himself and he's not doing so great." Said person, the writer of one book describing the Elder Scrolls, had gotten himself gored by a Walrus and was not taking visitors.
Alma adopts a thinking pose. "Can we get some info from Ancanos?"
"I wouldn't count on it." Aria says cautiously. "Knowledge about the Elder Scrolls is pretty rare." She...could see that she didn't have the persuasive weight in the girls' mind that Ash did. "Before you double down and try to pump Ancano for info, write to Ash and see what he says." The girls nod at that.
T'nerem and Aria both make a note to listen in on Ancano's class the next time it rolls around next week.
Which they do. The practical demonstration aside, the class was dull, steeped as it was in theory and assumptions, and Ancano makes very little tangible effort to try and convince the class―all his Thalmor followers―that it was worth listening to. They do have to admit that, for all of his lack of material, Ancano was very good at presenting it, and much of his mannerisms while teaching reminded them of Ash, which...was probably why the girls were viewing him in a good light despite finding his class uninteresting.
The practical, though, was worrying. Whether if he's pretending or not, Ancano's approach to magic was very similar to Ash―easy explanations, straightforward demonstrations, and refreshingly honest responses to questions that he had no ready answers for.
"Almost makes you wonder why he's basically just a history teacher." Aria had mused at the tail end of the class. With those similarities, it was therefore rather easy to see why the girls would be willing to trust him, or at least give him the benefit of the doubt.
That being said, given that he wasn't (currently) posing a danger, Aria had no reason to doubt Ancano's motivations beyond his Thalmor-ness, and thus just settles on watching and waiting.
Her job of watching and waiting is then made significantly harder by Ancano's offer.
Ancano greets her one day. "I hear that you and your friends are here to look for information on the defeat of dragons." He says cautiously. "As you may have heard, I have obtained permission to conduct an expedition into the ruins of Saarthal."
Saarthal, the historical capital of Skyrim, was a well-dived ruin and served largely as a classroom of practical lessons for the College. Aria knew of this, to some extent. "And what are you hoping to find within?"
Ancano shrugs. "A question as good as any." He procures a pendant from his pocket. "During the last expedition, a student had found this, and it opened a path into a deeper section of the ruins that we were unable to meaningfully access." Aria took that to mean 'we weren't allowed to dig into it'. "So this time, we'll be looking into the hidden secrets. Maybe there's something there that can serve as a counter to the dragon threat that we all face."
Aria weighed her options, and ultimately settled on the agreement that any lead at this point is a good one. "Sounds fair, I'm in."
…
Saarthal, by virtue of being essentially a College annex, therefore had a robust support system built around it, with food, drinks, and beds openly available for anyone who wanted to visit. Non-College students were barred entry into the more dangerous areas, and would only be allowed in the first few zones, which was a museum/tourist attraction, and actually earned a reasonable amount of Septims for the College. Scholars from other parts of Tamriel would visit this ancient, historic, and reasonably safe site to broaden both their own horizons and bragging rights, as it was, after all, the first capital of Skyrim.
Of course, as students, especially those on a nominal expedition, Ancano urged his students to pack as if they were 'diving into a ruin with little support and even fewer landmarks', as a sort of realistic hands-on training. Most of the students had a rather...optimistic set of assumptions, about what kind of supplies they needed, even after factoring in inherent Thalmor support.
So imagine the surprise when Aria, Atra, and Alma showed up with a full set of camping gear. T'nerem continued to peruse other leads in the library and Sapphire wasn't interested.
Thus, over the next five days at Saarthal, Ancano's party, almost all his Thalmor students save for Aria's party, dove into the up-to-now sealed off portion of the city, and manage to discover the later-named Eye of Magnus with next to no issues outside of navigation. Unfortunately they could only discover it from somewhere like half a mile away, due to the battle formation of Dragur guarding it.
The battle formation did nothing to dissuade the party from observing at a distance, and that is exactly what they did before returning to the College. "Look at that." Ancano says with an expression of pure hunger. "Look at the power it radiates. Imagine what we can learn from it."
Oh, I can imagine just fine. Aria thinks with narrowed eyes, not trusting him in the slightest.
The girls, on the other hand, were positively beaming with anticipation, at how much Ash would be impressed with this discovery, especially after Ancano gets to show them what that artifact is able to do.
…
"Alright, so that's a thing." T'nerem says upon the group convening after the discover, some two days later. "What does that mean for us?"
"We could, theoretically, give to Ash so he can rig it up into some kind of superweapon." Aria says. "Or have him come here and build a superweapon around it."
T'nerem laughs lightly. "That sound like a problem." She brings out a stack of documents. "As for me...oh, by the way." She pulls out a letter addressed for Atra and Alma. "For you." It was marked with a triangle, which was the Warwolf internal sign for 'good to share with the class when needed', and is usually not even coded. The girls start reading the letter. "For the rest of us, I have this." T'nerem brings out one single piece of paper with her conclusions.
Aria scans it. "Alftand?"
T'nerem nods. "Most likely possibility."
Aria makes a face. "Fuck."
Alftand is a Dwemer ruin, one of the largest and the most well mapped ruin in all of Skyrim, and lies within the mountain ranges inside Winterhold's territory. While the details of Alftand's story is not well known, the major story beats are practically a cautionary tale: The last expedition into Alftand had reached deep into its core and found the heart of the city and, after a hard, long battle, destroyed the core mechanism of the city in an effort to take everything of value, thus plunging the city into darkness and death; a true Aesop about greed and carelessness.
The reality was not that different, to be honest: Alftand, with its core destroyed and looted, had absolutely zero maintenance capabilities within its vast ruins and, as a result of the years, have no lights, no warmth, and no structural guarantees. From what T'nerem could collect, Alftand now is almost comically hostile to human and above-ground life, making simple exploration and mapping difficult. Having been fully explored, Alftand was accessible through two points, with the most recognizable one being the Great Lift of Alftand. The other, more 'traditional' entrance of a simple door, had long since collapsed from neglect.
Aria sighs. "Well, alright. I'll go take a look."
So she does, the next day. After packing the necessary gear, she departs for Alftand, and arrives some hours later. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed (and not really invested in a long-term trip), she approaches the lift.
The Great Lift of Alftand, per its name, is a giant Dwemer-built elevator, with a massive stone platform capable of supporting a significant amount of weight up and down a tremendous distance. This carrying capacity, ease of operation, and operational speed meant that Alftand was the first Dwemer ruin that allowed and supported an Adventurer City, much like the undergrounds of Markarth. Unfortunately, following the loss of the city's core, the lift collapsed into the darkness. Cut off from its primary and significant source of supply, with no light, food, and bone-chillingly cold air, the adventurer city followed soon after.
For Aria, all that meant was that she was now staring down at a massive black hole in the middle of a dilapidated cage. "Well, fuck." She sighs. "Fine then." She ties the end of a massive cord of rope to the bar, ties the other end to a rock, and just let it drop. After a solid two minutes, it goes taut, and she thought she hears something like rock on metal.
Thus, she stares at the hole for a good five minutes, then goes "no" and leaves.
Aria reports her findings to T'nerem, and both of them agree that it would be more useful to touch base with Ash before continuing.
…
[While Aria Went to Alftand]
…
Ancano sits in his office, deep in thought. A quill floats gently over his right hand, spinning lazily as he taps on the table.
Mail is a strange thing in Skyrim. As it was in the middle of a civil war, communication between the cities of the hold were basically guaranteed to be tapped, and the ones from cities on the opposite sides of the war was nearly unheard of. What mail does travel tend to do so under heavy encryption, even ones from outside the province.
Thus, Ancano stares at the copy of the Warwolf letter, written with no cipher at all, and scowls. The Thalmor controls and reads all mail headed into and out of Winterhold college precisely because there is so little. But even so...
Am I being mocked? He rereads the letter.
"To Atra and Alma:
It's good to know that you're enjoying your time at the College. Take all the time you need and learn from the various teachers there. It's good to have an open mind when dealing with new information and new people.
To Aria and T'Nerem:
You girls should take the time to read about things other than dragons, too. It's not as if there won't be other chances, but might as well make the most of it while you're there. If you need to come back for whatever reason (new equipment, etc) then make sure to ask around in Falkreath, as we have a new place to stay since the battle at Whiterun.
About Professor Ancano:
It's perfectly okay to be friends regardless of the politics in Skyrim. However, keep in mind that good friendships are not always about agreeing to do things or constantly agreeing with each other. There are times where you can and should push back, especially when magic is involved.
About New Magic:
Learning is about understanding when mistakes are made. It's fine to be upset about those mistakes; remember that your technique and your knowledge are separate from your pride. I make tons of mistakes all the time, that's why I keep telling you two to avoid reading my notes all the time. Important: admitting to your mistakes do not fix them-recognizing that you have made a mistake and taking action to fix it are two different things.
To the Thamor reading this:
We, Warwolf, are focused on killing dragons and ending the threat that Alduin poses for the rest of the world. Under the belief that charred corpses are poor at paying taxes, I'd like to extend an offer for you or anyone in your contact list who has information to be forthright with it to my contacts in Winterhold, provided they are still there.
To Ancano:
My dude, leave that huge-ass ball alone."
Ancano sighs again and reviews the uncoded letter Aria's party had sent out. Why are they suddenly not encoding things at all? He reads that letter. It contained every question that Ash's reply had answered, except for any mention about what they had found within Saarthal. It's so they can talk to the Thalmor? He scowls even harder.
After the letter and during the day with Aria gone, the two girls' response to him were markedly more guarded. Ancano had expected that the adults, who had more anti-Thalmor leanings, would end up putting themselves at odds with the girls, and he could capitalize on their teenage rebelliousness.
It's not as if that's completely gone out the window. Ancano reminds himself. Now that he was a Friend, opinions aside, there was no reason to rush on this side project. Not when he had bigger things to focus on. Things that could guarantee his mark in the Thalmor's Legacy.
Which just made him madder, actually: how did he knew it was a sphere anyway?!
.
.
.
{ === + === }
Author Notes:
Eeey I botched my save...