The silent room, scented by the garden, was clean and empty. The walls, of pale light blue tone, bordered a pastel lilac shade, flashing softness and tranquility to the environment.
The bedroom has a double bed and two headboards covered with candles. These were the only lights present.
Each piece of furniture rested close to the bed, leaning against the walls.
Two people, lying under the white sheets, were awake, but drowsy. They were husband and wife.
The bed, the pillow, the cover and the blanket, all white and transparent, were freezing due to the coldness of the dawn.
The woman, redheaded with light blue eyes, intertwined her slender fingers with her husband's. She, leaning under the thin sheets, rested her head on the man's shoulder.
The man He a voluminous grayish mop of hair. A square, rude and severe face. He was tall and slender, cadaverous looking. Nonetheless, his wife loved him very much.
They got out of bed and got ready.
They would face another day. To live another day. They would face the harsh and rigid life conditions as peasants in the lands of Cyrodiil.
Everyone was tired. The verdant soils, covered by ferns, mosses and lichens consumed the family's energy vital.
They were not illiterate, nor stupid, in fact, they were very intelligent, pious and humble in heart and spirit. They had no ambition, no strength to climb the ladders of life.
They knew that the linear and inexorable path from cradle to grave was fatal and very, very realistic.
The family patriarch, Micael, walked the green fields, lined with pinewoods, other types of abundant trees and bushes.
The climate was dry and cold. The harsh temperature dried out his pale skin, making it red and painful.
He decided to spy on the sheep and cattle grazing in the open fields.
The fields and valleys extended far away, however, wild, dense forests surrounded these fields, that belonged to Micael.
The family matriarch, Joana, cooked. She took the spices and herbs, and crushed them, throwing the smashed herbs into the stone pan.
Her daughter walked up to her;
"Ma, where did Pa go?"
"To the fields."
"Hmm, alright.'
"Humm." Joana, very committed to being a great housewife, didn't look at her daughter.
His girl delighted with the herbal aromas. The smells of spices permeated the air. It was delicious, thought Vésper. She was a girl of 19 years of age, pale, owner of a voluminous hair like her father, however, her shades were ravenous.
" Ma, I love you."
Joana's eyes, bright as a spring dawn, watered;
"Me too, my dear. Now off you go, I know you want to see your father." Her pearly eyes looked like oceanic gems.
Gone was her daughter, Vésper, running to the fields.
Looking back, she saw the marbled manor. Their home. It was of a light gray tone, which reminded her of a blank, neutral, indifferent winter sky.
A very sad and lifeless house. Life was difficult for poor, ragged Britons,far away from High Rock.
She ran in search of her father. She found him wandering among the sheep, goats and cows.
" Father."
He turned and smiled. It was a sad and heavy.
Suddenly, far away, close to the forests, a young man, around 21 years old, ran up to the father and daughter.
" Pierre!" Howled his sister.
Pierre, was the oldest, Vésper, the second and Ernst, the third.
"Did you see me running? I can go to the village, or even the imperial city, running like this!"
"Yes, you can, but I don't recommend trying it." Informed his father, as a precaution.
"Pa, Vésper, look what I have found. Wild tomatoes!" Pierre took out a leather bag, well stuffed and plump, that was hanging from his belt, and threw it onto Vésper's hands; "Ma will love it, and we'll have to hide it from Ernest, otherwise he'll eat everything himself."
"Yes, it's true. We'll have to hide it from that little monster." Vésper said, weighing the bag.
"Mmm, yes, maybe," Her father murmured and looked far away. He saw the heavy clouds in the skies, the drought called for heavenly rains. The patriarch continued: "Let's go. Pierre and Vésper, collect the animals from the pastures and place them in the barns."
Vésper gave the bag to their father. And the siblings went to carry out the patriarch's orders.
You know." Said the boy, smiling, full of joy and hope. His blue eyes were bluer than the waters of Iliac Bay. It was as if the Pantheon of Nine had vitrified the sea and molded it into two marbles, carving them into the young man's eyes.
" Hmm?" Vésper's eyes, silver-grey likes ashen, were distant and unfathomable.
"I intend to take Rosie to the Dibella Festival."
"Really? Do you mean it?" She jumped in fright, letting out a little scream, then snorted and shrugged. " Okay, then. If you like her, you'll take her wherever you want."
"Ah, she likes you so much. You are very unfair to her."
Rosie was her name. The imperial had wheat-colored locks and cerulean eyes. She was the most beautiful thing in the imperial province, and the most courted among the commoners. But she only had eyes for Pierre. Two young hearts in love. it annoyed Vésper a lot.
"True words. I really am."
"By the way, did someone ask you to go to the festival?"
"Yes, that Altmer."
"That legate of the imperial army! But-" Pierre fell silent. It couldn't be. He was an Altmer, an aristocratic noble by birth, therefore, he was of a very high hierarchical position.
How could the high elf ask his sister to go with him to the festival? Bravery or daring? Contempt, perhaps?
Maybe, was it an insult, belittling the dignity of a poor peasant family or was it something more honourable? Pierre didn't know whether to be angry, offended, insulted proud or joyous.
Well, despite the being an Elf, he seemed like a good one, but even so, high elves from Summerset Isles didn't mix with pure-blooded high-raking mortals, much less with the country riff-raff. It made no sense.
"Did you accept?"
She laughed hideously, and said, "Of course not. I know my limits and my position in life."
Her response shocked Pierre. She really scared him.
He lowered his eyes. He was in disappointment and sadness. Maybe, thought Pierre, the high elf legate really likes his sister, and for her to deny the invitation would be a tremendous idiocy.
Pierre really wanted something more to come out of this. Even so, the high elf's courteous behavior was still a mystery to be revealed.
"Did you tell Ma and Pa?"
"No, I don't intend to tell. I hope you keep my secrets guarded, my dear brother."
" Better this away."
Both continued their tasks, one, in a stoic state, and the other, Pierre, in a state of doubts, in yearnings, in afflictions and in anguish for his sister, for the world, for his family and for life.