Chapter 2

Island of Patch

Friday, August 16th

Yang instinctively stood in front of her younger sibling as she opened the door, the possibility of facing down an armed intruder taking center stage in her mind. As her left thumb moved to the safety switch on one of her gauntlets, another possibility occurred to her. What if he's another Huntsman with news about dad? Bad news? A pit formed in her stomach as she tensed, trying to be ready for anything. As the door opened, the first thing Yang saw was the darkened reflection of her face in his breastplate. As she looked up to meet his gaze, his gauntleted hands moved to his hood and pulled it down. He was no friend of her father's, as she would have recognized him. He was about fifty, his leathery face a map of fine lines, punctuated by an old scar which started on his left cheekbone and crossed the bridge of a nose that had been broken more than once, and set poorly. His hair, a few inches short of shoulder length, had once been black, though now it was streaked with grey. His bushy beard also carried prominent hints of it. Though to Yang Xiao Long, more important than his looks was how he carried himself, how he had moved, and the look in his piercing, pale blue eyes. They were warrior's eyes. Yang's mind recalled a quote she had heard once: "Beware the old man in a profession where men die young." Those eyes, she noticed, also seemed to show a spark of recognition. She chose her words carefully.

"Can I…help you?"

"You are…Yang?" His voice was a rough baritone, though much quieter than she would have expected from someone his size. He seemed to have some sort of accent, as well, though she couldn't quite place it. Not from around here.

Does he know me? "...Yeah. And you are?"

"My name is Harald Lorasson. I have traveled no small distance to find you and one I believe to be your sister, Ruby Rose, I believe she's called?"

Ruby stepped forward, "You know us? Do you know our dad, is that why you're here?"

Yang's eyes narrowed, "If you know him, then I think you'd better tell us where he is, and what's going on."

The stranger raised an eyebrow, "This is a thing I was going to ask you. I would much like to speak with him as well. Truth be known, I don't know him, at least not as of yet."

Yang's confusion and suspicion only deepened, "I think it's time for you to tell us why you're here, now."

"Where I come from, when a stranger stands at your threshold, you invite them in, and then ask them their business. To not do so is considered quite rude."

Yang started, "Well, we're-"

Ruby elbowed her in the arm and gave her a look. If it goes bad, we can take him, it said.

Yang sighed softly and looked back at the stranger, "Yang Xiao Long. Please, come in."

He bowed his head with a polite smile as he stepped through the doorway, "Well met, Yang Xiao Long," and firmly clasped her outstretched hand.

"You can hang your stuff on the coat rack there," she said, gesturing to a wooden rack of hooks bolted to the wall near the doorway.

"Thank you," he replied, unclasping the harness bearing his sword, and doing the same with the belt holding his other weapons. He joined the two girls at a long, wooden dining table, taking his helmet off of the small clasp on his waist and placing it before him. After a glance from Ruby, Yang reciprocated the gesture, placing her gauntlets on the table in front of her. The two of them looked intently at their guest.

"So," Yang started, "Now will you tell us why you're here?"

He nodded, "I hail from a realm far from here, a world known as Nirn. The northernmost province of Skyrim, in the land of Tamriel. Are any of these places known to you?"

They both shook their heads. He reached into his satchel, pulling out several sheafs of parchment. On them were diagrams of Mundus, Oblivion, and Aetherius, as well as a map of Nirn, all newly drafted for him by Marassi and Latoria. These he pushed towards his hosts for them to read. Lastly, he pulled out the small metal slate that had led him to this time and place.

Ruby's eyes widened, "Hey, if you're not from…around here, then where did you get a Scroll?"

"This was found in a place of great importance in my world. A place where time, nay, reality itself was torn open. I believe such a thing may have happened here to make it appear where it did."

Ruby shook her head, "And you found out about our names by using the Scroll?"

"Yes. In fact, I believe this particular 'Scroll' belongs to you, Ruby Rose."

She cocked her head and reached into her pocket, "That's…not possible," she produced an identical "Scroll" to the one he held out to her. Her face a mask of confusion, she took the second device and compared the two, opening them and examining the brilliant blue displays. Her eyes widened, and she showed them to her sister.

Yang narrowed her eyes and studied the two Scrolls, "They're…the same, but look, the dates are different." Ruby turned them to Lorasson so that he could see. Indeed, the one that Ruby had produced from her pocket showed a date of "Friday, August 16th," while the one he had brought with him showed "Friday, May 29th." He furrowed his brow, wondering at just how that had happened. A question occurred to him.

"Your month of 'May,' does it come before 'August?'"

"Yeah, it's the fifth month of the year, August is the eighth."

He nodded, "What day of the week did May the 29th fall on this year?"

Yang pulled out her own Scroll and consulted it, before looking back at him, "Wednesday."

The realization began to creep into his mind. He turned to Ruby, "Look at the 'pictures' on the Scroll I gave you, are they different to the ones on yours?"

Ruby began swiping intently with her finger, slowing gradually, "I-um, these…" she stammered, looking between Lorasson and her sister before handing the device to the latter, hand trembling, "I don't know the people in these pictures," she whispered.

Yang's eyes widened in recognition at one of them, "That-that's Pyrrha Nikos! The four-time Mistral Regional champion! And that's Beacon Academy in the background, I've seen enough pictures of it."

"The Pumpkin Pete girl? Wait, she's-"

"Going to Beacon, same time as us…"

Ruby looked back at Lorasson, fear and trepidation plain on both her and her sister's faces. "Does this mean that the Scroll you found was…from the future?"

The realization was fully upon him now, carrying a crushing guilt with it. In the span of just a few moments, he had shattered their perception of space and time, of the very nature of their reality. Time is a fickle thing. "One possible future, as it would seem nothing is certain now. I am sorry for bringing this upon you. In your tender years, you shouldn't need to be concerned with such things." He felt an immense pang of sorrow for the fear he saw in their eyes. He took the loathsome device from her hand, "No small part of me wishes that this accursed thing had never been found, that it would have stayed buried under the unmelting snow."

Ruby sighed, and shook her head, "It's not your fault."

He rose abruptly from the table. You need guidance. "If you would excuse me, for just a moment." He made for the door, leaving his arms and cloak where they hung, ignoring the protestations of his hosts. He walked for but a few minutes, though it felt like much longer. He found a small clearing, taking a moment to admire the rays of the mid-noon sun passing between the tree branches, before dropping to his knees. Breath and focus. He closed his eyes, and called upon Akatosh, imploring the God of time for guidance, that what was broken may be set right. Let it be as if this meeting had never happened. Then, like the breaking of the sun through a cloud, he felt, rather than heard the reply made to his prayer.

THE WORLD-EATER LIES SLAIN, AND YET THE WHEEL TURNS ON. KNOW THIS: THE SPIDER SEEKS TO ENSNARE THIS REALM IN HER WEB. SHOULD THIS COME TO PASS, HER HUNGER SHALL ONLY GROW. YOU KNOW OF WHOM I SPEAK, AND YOU SHALL SEE SOON ENOUGH THOSE WHO WEAVE THIS PLOT ON HER BEHALF. BY UN-TIME'S END SHALL IT BE SEEN TO SUCCEED OR FAIL. FOR A SIMPLE SOUL SHALL BE SEEN TO SHAPE THE FATES OF MANY.

His vision darkened and his head throbbed for a moment. His mind began to race, considering the possibilities of what that had meant. His thoughts were interrupted by a low growl, heard to his front. He opened his eyes and stood, taking in the visage of the creature before him. It seemed to his mind to be some Daedric parody of a large wolf, a truly loathsome looking creature. Its glowing red eyes were fixed on him, its teeth baring, viscous black sludge dripping from its maw. He began to pace to his left, never taking his eyes from the beast. The creature, for its part, circled to Lorasson's right, in the opposite direction, almost as if to retain the distance and angle it had started with. In the corner of his eye, he could see more black figures emerging from the brush. By the time he and his quarry had made a full circle in the clearing, he counted eleven. He stopped, and looked to see that he was well-surrounded. In his younger years, he would have cursed himself for leaving behind his arms. If these creatures can be killed, then kill them you shall. By sword, spell, or shout, it matters not. He didn't wait for them to charge.

He remembered his youth, being taught to fight in the ways of the Legion. Throw the first strike, and with it, make your enemy bleed. His right hand came up without conscious thought, throwing the first spell that came to his mind. It had been hammered into him during training that it was better to do something useful immediately than to come up with the best course of action hours later. A long shard of ice shot forth from his hand, burying itself in the pack leader's forehead a fragment of a second later. It dropped without a sound. At once, he sidestepped to the left, using that hand to throw a long stream of flame at the creatures behind him. One of them hadn't moved quickly enough and took a good portion of the flames directly to its face. Its demonic cries echoed through the forest for several long seconds before it fell. Lorasson paid it no mind, as two more were leaping at him. He dropped to a knee, and with either hand sent an ice spike into each of the creatures' exposed bellies. The creatures, having lost their leader and three more of their number, hesitated, circling again before another found its courage. Lorasson's gaze latched onto it, and then the two behind it.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

An immense gout of brilliant flame shot forth from his lips. The three creatures in front of him were reduced to glowing cinders. Four more. Need to get out of the middle, he thought, minding the sizable brush fire that he had started. He spotted an opening in the remaining four.

"WULD!"

His thu'um carried him forward an easy twenty paced in an instant. The creatures wheeled around before attempting to converge on him. Mistake.

"IIZ SLEN NUS!"

The four remaining beasts were frozen solid as the bitter whirlwind reached them. The sheer cold of the thing was enough to stop the hearts of men and Mer alike. Even so…

"FUS RO DAH!"

The four frozen forms shattered into minute fragments under the potent blast of his voice. He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Two, coming fast. His gaze met the silver eyes of Ruby Rose, and he slackened his posture almost at once. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and he could discern some relief on her face to see him standing. Yang brought up the rear, no small distance behind. Are those…rose petals?

"We saw you take out the last four! That was insane! What was that?!"

"That was The Voice. Words of Power, taught to me over a number of years."

She cocked her head, "Cool! What is that? Is that what your Semblance is called?"

He shook his head, "I don't know what that means."

"What, 'cool?'"

"No, though I would like to know the meaning of that one as well. What's this 'Semblance' you speak of? And why should I have it?"

Yang finally caught up and chimed in, "Uh, guys?" She gestured towards the burning underbrush. Though the piercing frost and thundering wind of Lorasson's last two shouts had dampened it somewhat, the fire was still spreading.

Lorasson nodded and sauntered over to it. He conjured Frostbite, and began to douse the flames, swiftly beating back the threatened wildfire. When he turned back to his hosts, they were looking at him as if he had grown a third eye.

Yang spoke first, "Was that…magic?"

Ruby followed up, "You don't have any Dust, do you?"

He answered as if it were the most obvious question in the world, "Yes, it was. Does this surprise you? And I'm afraid you'll need to explain what the word 'Dust' means in your world."

Lorasson fastidiously took notes as his hosts explained the workings of their world to him. Everything from the history of the kingdoms, to those "Grimm" creatures he had slain. "So, in summary, Dust, Aura, and Semblance are all distinct from magic? Aura and Semblance being inherent physical traits rather than arcane knowledge like spells? And Dust merely imbues certain elemental powers on who or whatever uses it?"

Ruby gave him a look, "That's…exactly right. You really were paying attention, huh?"

"Of course," he replied. He'd always had a passion for learning, from the classroom to the training yard, he'd ceaselessly devoted himself to the pursuit of knowledge, both in his youth and in more recent years. There was another reason for taking such detailed notes, he knew. Auryen and Marassi would want a detailed report when he returned. What he relayed was sure to find its way into an academic tome of some sort. Several hours had passed by the time they were done, and the sun was beginning to slip beneath the horizon. He looked back at his hosts, when a low rumbling broke the silence. He had only broken his fast in the morning in Ivarstead with bread and ale, and his stomach was now growling in protest from the strain of climbing the 7,000 steps, and from the rush of the earlier skirmish.

"Do you have anything in the way of food?"

The look they gave each other was not an encouraging one. "Not enough for all three of us," Yang finally said.

He looked between them, when something in the corner of the room caught his eye. An old, bamboo fishing rod, complete with line and lure. He nodded towards it, "Any good fishing to be had here?"

Yang nodded, her eyes perked up at the thought of eating something freshly cooked, "There's a pond not too far from the house. My dad took me, once. I can take you there."

It was a relatively short walk to the pond, and the timing was perfect. The evening sun and cooler waters meant that the fish in the pond would be more active and closer to the surface. Salmon, Yang had told him, which only made his stomach growl all the more. He had taken to fishing the waters of Lake Ilinalta and the White River in recent years, and he took the craft more seriously now than he had when his mother had taught him. The girls watched as he surveyed the still water, and cast the baited lure into its depths.

Ruby was the one to break the silence, "So, where did you learn to fish?"

He held up a finger to his lips, and answered in a whisper, "My mother taught me."

"Did she teach you how to cook, too?"

He gave her a look, and replied, half-seriously, "You would ask your guest to cook your supper?"

The sisters looked at each other, and Yang gave an answer, "Most of the cooking is split between my dad and the microwave."

He gave a soft chuckle, "I'm only jesting. Aye, my mother taught me that, too. I'd be happy to prepare this fish for you. With some help, of course."

As if it were summoned by his words, he felt a bite on the end of his line. The tip of the rod bent downward as the fish dived, desperately trying to escape the hook that pierced the inside of its mouth. He heaved upwards and began to reel in the line. The struggle with the fish was short-lived, as he had made his cast fairly close to the water's edge. He waded into the knee-deep water to claim his quarry. When all was said and done, the nearly two foot-long sockeye was flapping weakly in his arms. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Arkay, the God of life and death. "Let's make for the kitchen, shall we?"

The girls took a moment to watch their guest as they made the preparations for dinner. He claimed that none of the knives in the kitchen were sharp enough for his liking, so he used his own. Ruby's eyes went wide as the polished copper welded into the blackened steel caught the overhead light. Yang saw it, too.

"How d'ya know that one's sharp enough?" Her tone was only half joking.

He grinned, and took the blade to one of his exposed, hairy forearms. Swiping the edge across at an angle, he turned his arm to reveal a noticeable bald patch where the blade had shaved it clean. He wiped the blade down with a wet cloth, and began to filet his catch. Placing the fileted belly on the cutting board, he scraped the edge of his blade along its surface, descaling it. Then, flipping the filet skin side down, he pressed it down hard with his fingers, exposing the pin bones. These he removed with a pair of tweezers that Ruby had found at his behest. As he worked, he gestured over to the stove. Yang had found several cans of peas in the pantry, and at Lorasson's direction, had drained them and dumped them into a large saucepan next to the cast iron pan the fish was destined for. His instructions had been clear and concise: "Beef stock, herbs, and salt."

"Start the pottage, and set the cast iron to a chopping."

"Um…what?"

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Turn on the flames under both of those, and melt some butter in the cast iron."

She did so, and glanced at the kitchen island as Ruby got to slicing the loaf of bread that the meal would be served with. As the pad of butter sizzled in the pan, Lorasson brought over the filet, quartered into steaks with the skin still on. He seasoned these with salt and pepper. Yang looked past him at the cutting board. There would be enough for seconds and thirds if anyone was so inclined. The steaks went into the melted butter with a heavy crackling sound, and the aroma was a wonderful tease of the taste ahead. Turning his attention to the saucepan, he stirred the "pottage" that was beginning to look suspiciously like baby food. Ruby took a look at it and made a face. Lorasson turned to her.

"It's better than it looks, I promise."

Yang chimed in, "Besides, when was the last time you ate anything green?"

Ruby shot her sister a look, which Yang shot right back. Lorasson took notice, and smiled to himself.

"Should be ready to eat before long, go ahead and set the table."

The dinner was a delicious change of pace from the reheated leftovers and microwave dinners they were accustomed to when home alone. The "pease pottage" was, as promised, much tastier than it looked. Lorasson took a long pull of his beer after polishing off the last of his second salmon steak. Taiyang's stash of Lost Dog Mistral Pale Ale had remained decidedly untouched during his absence. They were sure he wouldn't miss one or two.

"Well," he sighed, contentedly, "What now?" They had made sure to clean as they cooked, so there were only a few dishes soaking in the sink.

"Maybe we could watch a movie? That new Spruce Willis movie is supposed to be streaming now," Ruby piped up.

"Perhaps I should just raise my hand whenever I need a word explained to me?" Lorasson gave her a half-smile.

Yang tried to explain, "It's…sort of like a stage play, but someone…recorded it?"

His confused expression deepened, "Someone wrote it down? But how would you 'watch' something like that?"

"Uh, no," she corrected him, "you mentioned earlier that you saw some of the pictures on Ruby's scroll?"

He nodded, "Yes?"

"Did you see any of those that were moving and making sound?"

His eyebrows shot up, "Ah! Yes, the moving pictures. Those made quite a stir when my colleagues saw them!"

"It's just a longer one of those."

"I see. Very well, a 'movie' it is, then."

They rose from the table, Ruby bringing the plates to the dishwasher, "Thanks for dinner, by the way. That was so good."

Yang nodded in affirmation, "Seriously, though. Why does a guy like you know how to do that? Based on what you've told me about your world, I wouldn't think that men do a whole lot of cooking there."

Lorasson smiled warmly at the memory that came to mind, "I asked my father once why I was being taught so many different things, all seeming…disconnected from each other. Do you know what he told me? He told me that a man ought to be able to change soiled swaddling clothes, plan an invasion, captain a ship, butcher a hog, design a building, write a poem, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, cast a spell, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, and die gallantly." All of this he was able to recite from perfect memory, without pausing once, "He told me that specialization is for insects."

"Your dad sounds like a cool guy." Ruby replied, pulling out her Scroll and pointing it at a similar-looking piece of metal atop the fireplace.

He grinned, the meaning of the word having been taught to him over dinner. "Aye, I suppose he was."

This "Spruce Willis" Ruby had mentioned turned out to be a rather poor playwright, Lorasson being largely unable to follow what was transpiring on the "screen" in front of him. Eventually, he excused himself to the porch, where he sipped at another one of Taiyang's ales. He reached into his satchel and pulled out his wooden pipe. He clasped the end of the long, slender neck in between his teeth as he pressed tobacco into the bowl. He conjured a small flame in between his thumb and forefinger to light the dried leaf. The tobacco leaves glowed as he sucked a puff of air into the pipe. He exhaled the smoke through his nose as he leaned on the porch railing. He gazed up at the stars and shattered moon of the world that would play host to him, until his task was done. He wasn't entirely sure how long he had been outside when the door opened behind him. Yang strode out, closing the door behind her.

"I got the guest room ready, I also went ahead and brought your weapons and armor up there."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you for taking your smoking outside without being asked. My dad would freak out if the walls started turning yellow," she remarked, gesturing at his still-glowing pipe. "And thanks for dinner, leftovers and microwave food gets kind of depressing, after eating it four days in a row."

"Well, then I'm glad I could lift your spirits." He smiled.

She sidled up beside him, "I don't suppose we could count on you for breakfast, then? Frozen waffles are getting kind of old, too."

"I'll see what you have in your larder. Best be up early, you're hosting an old man, after all."

She laughed, "Well in that case, Ruby and I are going to bed now. Good night!"

"Good night." As she headed inside, his smile began to fade. Deep down, he knew why he so enjoyed the thought of doting on the two youngsters as if they were his own, if only for a short time. Merely a salve, for not with a hundred years will that pain ever truly fade, some nagging voice in the back of his mind told him. Despite this, sleep came easily enough, as he listened to the nightly drone of the crickets and pond frogs that he had heard many a time before. Even more, this turned out to be a rare night, one free of the nightmares which had been his company since the one-hundred and seventy-first year of the fourth era. So peaceful was his sleep, that it was all the more a shock when he was woken by the sound of the front door's latch being turned.

Author's note:

Really appreciating all the engagement that this story is getting! Also, if you're wondering about Harald's pipe smoking, yes, there is in fact a mod for that, too. Just wish I'd found it before my Skyrim install decided to break completely.