The Nibenay Valley
Nibenay Valley yawned boundless outside Bravil. The wooden bridge formed the path out into the forest. A single Bravil guard patrolled up and down the cobblestone road.
Rolling grassy hills stretched as far as the eye could see, and for greater yards yonder. Weathered trees rose from the earth to scrape the cloudless twin moon-illuminated sky. Colorful wildflowers dotted the expansive grassy forest patches.
The Larsius River split the valley asunder, its banks mounted by zigzagging docks. Tree branches shuddered in the gentle evening breeze that shushed the grassy plains and wildflowers. Moonlight-dappled leaves cast flickering shadows on the cobblestone pavement.
Sal-Gheel held a cube-shaped picnic basket of baked goods in each hand. They swung back and forth as he strolled down the bridge.
"I've been out to the Nibenay before." He kicked aside a pinecone into the thick forest brush. "Saint Heinoke brings me with him sometimes when he ministers to the farmers and laborers. Romarcella comes out here to forage for her potion ingredients, too."
"You'd never been out in the Valley before then?" Jakino kept pace beside him.
The hatchling turned a slight angle in his direction. "My parents and I…" he gulped but kept on walking. The end of the bridge was drawing nearer. "...well, we never got out of the city much. We never had the money to go traveling."
Jakino's jaw hung agape in appalled surprise. "Well, I know I can never replace your parents." He laid an empathetic hand on the boy's back. "Sure the clergy know that, too. Hope we can at least make tonight a memorable experience for you, Sal-Gheel."
"Good evening, citizens!" Herisius smiled warmly and stepped aside to let them pass.
"Wow!" Sal-Gheel sprinted into the fork in the road. There stood a two-wheeled, three-seater carriage. A reddish-brown bay horse stood attached. The hatchling's eyes widened with wonder.
"Jakino! Is this-?"
"Aye, Sal-Gheel!" Jakino caught up to him. "That's for us. Heading to the Moon Festival in style!"
"Hello, Mister Malkhest!" Sal-Gheel beamed up at the driver. "Hi, Applejack!" Applejack whinnied and waved his head back at him.
"Good to see ya again, Sal-Gheel!" Malkhest, a shirtless male Breton in a patched vest, white linens, and sandals, tipped his cap at the hatchling from the middle seat. "I'll be taking y'all to the festival. Hop aboard and we'll be off!"
Sal-Gheel glowed with excitement. Jakino piled his baskets on the carriage. He placed Sal-Gheel's baskets on top.
"Up we go, kid!" Jakino lifted him up by his armpits and placed him into the rightmost seat.
"I've never ridden in a carriage before..." Sal-Gheel placed his baskets in his lap.
"First time for everything!" Jakino climbed up and sat opposite Sal-Gheel. The three of them sat in a row shoulder to shoulder. "Whenever you're ready." He nodded to Malkhest.
"Giddyap there, Applejack!" Malkhest shook the reins gently. Applejack neighed and broke into a leisurely trot.
The carriage shook (Sal-Gheel instinctively held onto his armrest and baskets for dear life) and began to roll down the north road. Jakino laughed and adjusted his weight. Sal-Gheel watched, fascinated, at the wooden wheels rolling and Applejack ambling along. Herisius followed on horseback.
"Ah, what a fine night for a festival!" Malkhest declared.
They rode through the forest without much event. Every now and then, Sal-Gheel would raise his nostrils in the direction of the wind. Catching scents of food and smoke carried on the breeze. He'd stand in his seat or creep along the armrest. Even perch on the headrests. Despite the carriage's continuous forward movement.
Every time, Malkhest begged him to sit down. But Jakino grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head in wordless silence. When the hatchling did sit down, he drummed the lids of his baskets to the rhythm of some distant music. The two men shared confounded looks and shrugged.
Before long they'd stopped at the top of a hill. Malkhest pointed down to a vast grassy forest clearing left of the road.
Jakino exited the carriage first, then helped Sal-Gheel down. Baskets in hands, they descended the grassy wildflower-decorated hill. Malkhest followed with an unharnessed Applejack. Herisius too dismounted his horse and tagged behind.
They passed under a gigantic rainbow banner magically suspended in midair. Embroidered upon it, a color-changing rainbow of words: Cyrodiil Nibenay Valley Moon Festival.
"Whoa…" Sal-Gheel's jaw dropped open. His eyes widened as large as the twin moons. He gasped breathless at the extraordinary sights before him.
"Look, Sal," Jakino gestured to the right. A heavyset Redguard man and a broad-shouldered woman in black burgundy suits and beaded headdresses poured themselves mead from a barrel. "Count Armasek Tliv-I and Countess Margvek-Si Dhich-Si of Skingrad."
"And there…" Herisius pointed further down the same way. A red velvet-wearing Khajiit husband and wife joked and laughed with a Nord jewelry vendor. "Countess Chirarji and Count Haszakar Rahktamil of Leyawiin, and their children." Two Khajiit cubs in expensive clothes stood abreast wearing haughty expressions.
"Look at them!" Jakino bent down to point out a foursome of aristocrats on the far left. One Orcess, a Khajiit, an Argonian, and a female Altmer. All chatting, drinking, or helping themselves to wine. "From the Imperial City!"
"Wow!" Sal-Gheel stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "The Imperial City?!"
"Gods' blood!" Malkhest exclaimed at a brunet mulleted noble coming straight towards them. Bright blue silks framed his well-built figure. "That's Turehius Langeas himself! Count Kvatch!"
They split apart at the center to let him pass. Count Turehius Langeas gave each a thankful nod and smile without breaking pace, even Applejack. He took a sip of mead before melding with the crowd.
"Is all of Cyrodiil here?" Sal-Gheel asked after Langeas had disappeared.
"Heard some of the other cities are having their own celebrations." Jakino placed a hand on Sal-Gheel's shoulders to steer him through the multitude. "Anvil, Cheydinhal; Chorrol, too. No doubt the Imperial City's doing something massive. Maybe these nobles wanted the fresh air of the forest; I dunno."
"I wish Count Cavocus Magium were here to see this," Sal-Gheel glanced around as if wishing to see a glimpse of the Bravil Count. "Captain Gemanius Avidipter, too."
"Even if they could come, they'd hardly be able to move around much." Jakino fidgeted with his baskets.
"Countess Augussandra has better things to do," added Herisius. "than spend her time and money on such frivolous occasions as this."
"Xuth!" Sal-Gheel turned round and walked backwards. "So many noble and royal people!"
"Cyrodiil is far bigger than you think it is, Sal-Gheel," Jakino beckoned to the hatchling to keep pace. "There's more to this land than just Bravil."
"I hope I get to see all these other cities someday!" The hatchling couldn't stop grinning and laughing. "This is so unreal! My first ever festival!"
Sandwiched between commoners and nobles alike, Sal-Gheel angled his body left and right. Bobbed and weaved through a picturesque sea of colors to avoid being jostled. Pushed and shoved every which-way. Brushed against arms and legs and tails.
Many folks he recognized from Bravil. Lanistar Arthsoric who spat at him in disgust, but he sidestepped in the nick of time. Anskalla and Bathof Jagarnasen who attempted to push his bread baskets out of his hands. Only for him to slip in between them and out the other side undeterred. He mockingly blew loud raspberries at them behind their backs.
Dahnoud who batted at him like a feather duster to a spiderweb. But he tail-tripped the man's legs out from under him. Last but not least, Briegius Opsata gave him a split-second glance-before turning up her nose and simply walking away.
Ayiheh and Shurassa Tavakani even tried to grab and lift him off the ground. But a single warning glow of his eyes sent them running.
He'd apologize to everyone he passed by ("Excuse me."…"Pardon me."…"Sorry, may I come through here, please? Thank you…"). Grimaced, winced, yelped at elbows, shoulders, and the occasional kneecap poking into him. Bent to help pick up the occasional dropped coinpurse, food, or jewelry.
Hopped and skipped to avoid the tails of fellow Beastfolk. Greeted fellow Saxhleel, young and old. Leaped around trees and bushes and boulders. Evening darkness surrounded him on all sides. Yet in nothing less than perfect technicolor.
So many people. Citizens of Cyrodiil all jam-packed into one space. Closing in tight.
"I've got you, little one." The voice and hand of Herisius upon his back comforted him.
"Oh, thank you, sir!" the reassured lad sighed.
Body odor, perfumes and colognes, food and drinks of many varieties flooded his nostrils. Fruits, vegetables, meats, dairy, and more mingled with the already mouthwatering scents emanating from the bread baskets. The smoky, almost noxious flavor of charcoal. He wrinkled his nostrils against the relentless onslaught of stimulating scents.
Chatter, whistles, beckoning, laughter, and even the smallest of whispers clogged his ears. The sizzling of food on a wood-fed stove. A blacksmith hammering away at metal on an anvil. The playful clashing of toy swords, daggers, and staves. Spark! Shimmer! Bang!-someone was showing offmagic somewhere.
Underneath it all, fire…Plumes of smoke drifted upwards from a massive bonfire in the center of the clearing. Smaller pillars belched out from the blacksmith's portable furnace joined them. He could barely see the tips of orange-golden flames.
"...And this is where I leave you two," Malkhest said when he finally emerged from the suffocating throng. He gasped for air and keeled over, hand to heart in relief. Jakino couldn't help but laugh before turning back to Malkhest. Herisius likewise snickered. Malkhest tipped his cap and led Applejack away to the northeast. "Goodbye for now!"
"I'm off as well," Herisius put a hand to his heart. He turned and walked off south.
"The Moon Festival, we made it!" Jakino prompted Sal-Gheel for a high five.
"Yeah!" Sal-Gheel high-fived him. "I'm so excited!" He hopped on the balls of his feet.
A lofty rectangular wooden stage stood a yard or so away. A band of musicians stood or sat playing.
An Orc fiddled elaborate arpeggios on an accordion. A quintet of a lady Altmer, male Nord, an Argonian maiden, and two Khajiit beat or rapped away on drums. A Breton plucked and strummed her lute. Another blew on bagpipes.
A Bosmer sat cross-legged with her handpan. A Dunmer couple whistled through flutes and fifes.
A Khajiit bowed an esraj. A Redguard blared a trumpet. An Argonian maiden rang handbells. Yet all played in perfect collective synchronization. No one instrument seemed to clash with the others. A perfect, magical, captivating symphony of sounds. Sal-Gheel couldn't stop tapping his feet, rapping his hands on the basket lids, and nodding his head to the rhythm. Below on the grass, many couples twirled and cavorted around each other.
Yunikeeus wore a homemade alabaster-striped mud-brown kilt. He was bare-chested save for a navy-blue sash between his pectorals and round his waist. He hopped and kicked his sandal-clad feet to the beat, tail swinging from side to side. A modest headband encircled his smaller scalp and forehead horns. He played a lively violin across one shoulder.
A homespun two-piece sapphire bedlah formed Ochemee's thin, slender figure. A matching circlet rested beneath her sea-blue feathers. A dark contrast against her red-orange scales. She jingled and struck a tambourine in her flirtatious belly-dance. She gyrated her bare midriff and concealed pelvis towards her egg-mate. Her spare hand accentuated her covered bust and bare legs. Tail teased his. Sal-Gheel thought he saw the faintest hint of a crimson blush on Yunikeeus' cheeks. Both husband and wife wore thick socks on their tails.
"Keeps the cold out," Sal-Gheel explained at Jakino's puzzled expression. He wagged his tail from side to side in time with the music.
A middle-aged ginger Imperial woman in sky-blue mage's robes sat on a throne chair nearby. She laughed and clapped to the enthralling music. Two bodyguards flanked her; they too smiled, bobbed their heads, and tapped their boots.
"Countess Raforina Garrorius of Bruma," Jakino identified her. "Passionate music lover, she is. One hell of a sorceress, too, I've heard. Men can't seem to win her because of that."
"Jakino! Sal-Gheel!"
Valutinian and Sirimgeira approached from the west. Heinoke and Romarcella trailed behind. Each had a glass or tankard in hand.
"Hey!" Sal-Gheel darted around Jakino to greet them. He hugged each in turn; they returned in loving kind. Jakino knelt to kiss Valutinian's ring.
"We're so glad you both made it!" Sirimgeira took Jakino's hand in her free one. "How did the apprenticeship go?"
"So much fun!" Sal-Gheel hopped up and down. "Jakino taught me how to mix bread dough and knead it…" He mimed mixing and kneading bread in a bowl. "And how to shape it into a loaf, and then put it in the oven!"
"Been an eventful day to say the least," Jakino folded his arms over his chest. He watched Sal-Gheel mime pushing and pulling a rolling pin. Heinoke and Romarcella reacted in awe. "Much I want to tell and ask you about the boy. Why don't we explore the festival while we talk?"
"Yeah, let's go explore!" Sal-Gheel hopped up and down. "I want to see everything!"
"What's the matter, Mr. Statori?" Valutinian swirled his Surilie Brothers Wine around in his glass.
"Sal-Gheel isn't in any trouble, is he?" Sirimgeira had a look of anxious concern. She and the Primate flanked Statori. Heinoke, Romarcella, and Sal-Gheel took up the rear.
"No, nothing of the sort!" Jakino waved a hand to assuage the Priestess' fears.
He snuck a quick glance over his shoulder. Sal-Gheel was distracted watching the musicians and dancers. Jakino dropped his voice to an audible whisper.
"He's extraordinary. Unlike any Argonian I've ever seen. Can't quite put my finger on it…" he wiggled an index finger. "...but there's something…different…about him. All good things, of course!" he hurriedly added at their gasps and looks of anxiety.
"What have you noticed, Jakino?" Valutinan sipped his wine. "Do tell."
"Carrying anything greater than his body weight?" Jakino shrugged for emphasis. "My flour bags weigh fifty pounds on average!" He mimed carrying a bag over one shoulder. "Kid carried it like it was made of empty air!"
"It's unreal, isn't it?" Sirimgeira nodded. "Remember the Hearthfire riots? He held up a ceiling beam with both hands and tossed it into a dresser! Broke it in half!"
"Aye, did hear about that! Wild! Little jets of flame always shoot out of his nose when he sneezes? Sneezed from the ashes in my oven and set it ablaze."
Heinoke and Romarcella stopped at the Nord jewelry vendor. The Living Saint lifted Sal-Gheel under the armpits so he could see over the counter.
"Which would you like, Mr. Statori?" Romarcella dangled moonstone pendants on brass chains from her fingers. Each cut and shaped into a different moon phase.
"Authentic moonstone!" claimed the vendor. "Imported straight from Skyrim! You can't imagine what an honor it was to have the royal couple of Leyawiin themselves buy from me!" He patted the rectangular slab of wood hanging from the roof of his stall: "Alofnnir Whetted-Winter, Skyrim Jeweler.
Jakino stroked his chin. His bread basket hung on his wrist. Sal-Gheel showed Heinoke a full moon-shaped pendant.
"You want to use your own allowance?" The hatchling replied in the positive. Heinoke grinned and ruffled his feathers.
"New moon, please." Romarcella nodded and handed him the pendant from her ring finger. Jakino hung it around his neck. He stared at the new moon resting below his collarbone, contemplating it.
Sal-Gheel passed Septims to Alofnirr. He came away wearing the full moon on his chest. Romarcella returned the extra pendants. Alofnirr laid them on a carpet of red velvet in his display box.
"Yes, we've seen it happen a few times," Valutinian took a sip of wine, then, "Four months ago, he almost set his writing desk on fire. The sediment in his bedroom had irritated his nose."
"Poor dear got in quite an anxiety-ridden panic when it happened," Sirimgeira smiled and shook her head. "But we saved the desk just in time, thank Divines, and it came out all right in the end. Other times he's accidentally set the pews aflame. He felt so ashamed of himself for that." She sighed and smiled fondly at the hatchling walking between Heinoke and Romarcella.
"Flawless sense of balance?" Jakino kindly waved to give a Dunmer family the right-of-way. "Achieving a perfect equilibrium on any edge or surface?"
"His proprioception?" Valutinian clarified. "Sense of self-movement, force, and body position," he added, seeing the baker's quizzical look. "You might know it better as kinesthesia. We haven't been able to figure out why or how."
"Can he see in the dark, too?" Jakino hefted his baskets. "Low light? Didn't leave the city until a bit after moonrise. Kid wasn't bothered-navigated his way around like nobody's business."
"Oh, absolutely," Heinoke chimed in from behind. "We can't count how many times we've found him wandering about the chapel in the dark."
"You were a very curious and inquisitive boy, weren't you, Sal-Gheel?" Romarcella smiled down at her young charge. "When you first started living with us."
"Because I am curious!" Sal-Gheel's childlike energy seemed boundless. "I want to see everything! Everything looks so colorful in the dark!"
"There you are, then, Jakino," Valutinian gestured at the boy, chuckling.
They passed by more merchant booths and stalls. In one, metal figurines of Dragons lined the long wraparound counters. Some no larger than Sal-Gheel's palm; others medium-sized to sit on his shoulder. The largest ones magically hung from the ceiling. He picked up one of the palm-sized statues by its metal base to admire-then dropped it. A low rumbling growl of anticipation, affirmation, and assertion rose from the depths of his soul. One that only he could hear.
That's not coming from my Hist-blessed soul…Is it?
Bows, quivers, and arrows hung on hooks and racks in another booth. Some were toys, the others real. Sal-Gheel tried to dry-fire a real bow-before nearly snapping the string. Bashful, he quickly returned it and resorted to simple browsing.
Clothiers, blacksmiths and weaponsmiths, woodworkers, stonemasons, glassblowers, booksellers, jewelers, grocers, luthiers, artisans-and so many more. All of these overwhelmed Sal-Gheel's senses, but he couldn't stop his own smiles.
"Captain Approllaise!" He waved to the Bravil Guard Captain leaning on a mead barrel. She beamed and waved happily back.
Soon they came to an alabaster octagonal glamping tent on the farthest northwest end. Valutinian and Sirimgeira brushed aside hanging decorations resembling Masser on their way up short wooden stairs. Jakino followed and placed his bread baskets on a round table.
"Jakino Statori! Hallo!" called Brother Mathnude from the leftmost side. He waved from a counter where he stirred a tall pot. Jakino's mouth watered from the sharp and pungent smell teasing his nostrils. The Brother's trademark chili, no doubt.
"Welcome, Jakino! Glad you could join us!" Aravayana waved from another table. She had a steaming teacup and a plate of biscuits with cheese and Scrib Jelly, and was reading a book.
"Speaking of food, any allergies I oughta be aware of with Sal-Gheel?" Jakino asked, his brow furrowed in skepticism. "Milk, eggs, gluten," he counted off on his fingers. "Wheat, peanuts, shellfish. Soy? Sesame seeds? Corn?"
"None that we've been able to detect," Valutinian clarified. Jakino exhaled and wiped his arm across his brow. "So I think he'll be right as rain with your bread and pastries."
"He's not a picky eater, either." Sirimgeira shook a hand from side to side. "So he'll eat practically anything you want to give him."
"Hello, Jakino!" Bovkianne straightened up from her oven. She had been keeping an eye on Mathnude's cornbread and her mooncakes. "Is Sal-Gheel with you?"
Everyone whirled around behind them. But Sal-Gheel was nowhere in sight.
Sirimgeira gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. "Where is Sal-Gheel?!"
"He was right behind me!" Heinoke claimed. Romarcella could only give an anxious shrug.
"Sal-Gheel!" Valutinian immediately dashed out of the tent. Jakino and the others all bolted after him. "Sal-Gheel Calidaseer!"
"Look, his baskets!" Jakino lumbered over to a pair of bread baskets left unattended. They sat upright on the grass. "Must've left them behind!"
"Oh, he's close, then," Romarcella put a hand to her heart. "Do you think he may have gone back to watch the musicians? He was distracted by them earlier."
"Or maybe he went back to see more of Alofnnir's stock?" Valutinian pulled down his hood and scratched his head.
"No good there, Your Grace." Jakino glanced in the direction they had come. But no one could see scale nor skin of the hatchling.
"Excuse me," Sirimgeira stopped a quintet of nobles standing under a canopy of trees. "Have you seen an Argonian hatchling come this way? He's about 4 feet 5-and-one-half inches, round cyan eyes, leafgreen scales, two opposable horns on his brow, and purple scalp feathers." She made the necessary gestures to illustrate for the nobles. "He should be wearing a navy tuxedo shirt, wide sleek black pants, and doeskin shoes."
"He's also got a moonstone pendant in the shape of a full moon around his neck." Valutinian drew a thumb and index finger down from his neck to his collarbone. "Please help us, we've lost him."
"Lost him, eh?" An Orcess scoffed and folded her arms. "Well, if he's wandered off, that's his fault. He'll have to learn the consequences of that mistake the hard way."
"Oh, for the love of-" Jakino rolled his eyes and brushed off the nobles. "Sal-Gheel! Where are you?"
"He's not by the stage!" Heinoke came dashing to them with Romarcella in tow.
"Nor by the main entrance, either." The Healer bent down to catch her breath.
"And we never saw him come into the tent," Mathnude shrugged.
"Oh, Divines have mercy…" Sirimgeira clapped her hands to her head, eyes wide and manic. The color drained from her face. "Where in Mara's name could he be?!"
"We'll find him, Sirim!" Valutinian put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. Sirimgeira leaned into him. He wrapped her in his consoling embrace. "We won't leave the Festival until we do!"
Everyone glanced around themselves in all directions to try to catch a glimpse of the hatchling. To no avail.
"By Azura's Star!"
All snapped to attention. Aravayana pointed to the massive bonfire in the festival's center.
Chilling autumn wind rippled through Sal-Gheel's feathers. His horns stabbed his brow like icicles. He shivered and shuddered in the nipping coldness. But the bonfire's smothering heat practically enveloped him like a toasty cloak on a snowy midnight. He stepped over the ring of rocks and stones that contained the chaotic conflagration.
Fresh breezes of warmth swept over him as a rushing ocean wave. One of his fellow festivalgoers had added a new log to the fire. A teenage Khajiit smiled kindly at him before withdrawing from the rising sweat-inducing heat.
Embers popped and peppered the hatchling with sparks. Some even landed on his bare scales. He squealed and giggled in surprise but did not recoil. Instead, he watched in awe as the flames gnawed away at the oak log. Just as he had relished Jakino's almond sourdough bread the previous night. A hungry predator wolfing down its fallen prey after a long but rewarding hunt that would please great Hircine himself.
He glanced left and right. People were too busy chatting, eating and drinking, dancing, working, and cheering for the musicians. Without a second thought, he stripped off his clothes and shoes-and stepped right into the blistering heart of the bonfire. Wearing only his trusty loincloth.
He bobbed and weaved between the torrid tongues of flame. They lashed and bristled against his body. "Eek! Stop! That tickles!" He laughed and pretended to swat them away. His eyes and bloodstream glowed a fiery golden hue.
It feels so… natural. He stood still within the inferno. Nothing like my former home when it was burning during the riots. Why does it feel so natural? Why am I not burning? Why does it feel like…
He stared down at his hands. His entire body.
…Home?
"Divines!" Jakino pointed at the hatchling emerging from the bonfire unscathed. "See that?!"
"Yep," Aravayana nodded, arms folded. "Playing with fire, silly kid."
"Oh, thank the Eight he's safe!" Sirimgeira slumped from her stiff posture in Valutinian's arms. She let out a shaky laugh and a small smile. "He's playing around in the bonfire." Valutinian kissed Sirimgeira's temples in comfort, then released her.
"Resistance to fire and heat…" Jakino relaxed and stepped up beside the Primate and Priestess. "Last thing I wanted to talk to y'all about."
"More than a resistance, I'd reckon." Heinoke winked knowingly. "Total immunity."
"Immunity?" Jakino furrowed his brow. His heart leaped in his chest as Sal-Gheel disappeared once more into the disorderly inferno. "How do you mean, Saint Heinoke?" But the Nord had already knelt to tie his boots.
"When did you first notice it yourself?" Valutinian asked the baker. He put his hood back up to shield himself from the heat.
"Loading and unloading bread in my oven," Jakino averted his gaze to think and rubbed the back of his head. "Never used the paddle. Always reached in with his bare hands. Checked his hands after each time, and-"
"-Not a single burn, blister, or scar?" Romarcella . "No boiling blood? Dryness of flesh? Cooked or bubbled skin?"
"No, ma'am." Jakino shook his head and dropped his hand by his side.
"No dry, stinging red eyes? Scratchy, hoarse throat?" Jakino thought he spied a certain knowingness behind Sirimgeira's eyes.
"Absolutely not, Priestess," Jakino shrugged, completely lost now. "Don't understand how that's possible. How is the boy able to do that?"
"Did it never strike you as odd that Sal-Gheel can handle heat without getting burned?" Sirimgeira encouraged him to think.
"Aye, it did. Scooped ashes in my oven with his bare hands instead of my trowel." Jakino mimed scooping thin from one hand into the other.
"Or how when the very first time he had breakfast with us," the Priestess entreated her fellow clerics to think out loud. "He drank the jasmine tea hot straight out of the kettle? Without waiting for it to cool down?"
"Now that you mention it, Sal-Gheel has been acting a lot braver around heat lately, hasn't he?" Aravayana tapped her chin.
"Like how he likes to juggle the hot coals in the kitchen fireplace," Mathnude mentioned.
"Or stick his hand inside the torches and the candles in the sacristy," Romarcella tacked on.
"And he always seems to be drawn to the fireplace in your office, Val," Sirimgeira told Valutinian.
"So…what's the point?" Jakino demanded, utterly lost.
"The point is," Heinoke stood back up. "There's only one race of beings in all of existence with the ability to resist heat and fire."
"Dragons."
Valutinian whispered in a state of reverential astonishment. He rounded on the Nords. "You knew?"
"We always knew, Val," Sirimgeira hung her head. "We never knew the right time to tell you. Or everyone else, either. Or Sal-Gheel."
Jakino stared over the clerics' shoulders at Sal-Gheel. The hatchling had reclothed himself. Now he danced amongst the townspeople. He skipped left and right and held hands with Ochemee. Yunikeeus sat on the grass close by, grinning from ear to ear. His wife's tambourine lay on the grass beside him.
"Um, Nirn to Heinoke and Sirim?" Bovkianne waved her hands to bring the discussion back down to reality. "Us non-Nords are completely in the dark, you know."
"I couldn't agree more," Aravayana agreed. "This is a deeper conundrum than Saint Vivec's 36 Lessons." Mathnude "mm-hmmed" with his arms folded and eyebrows raised in expectation.
"Heinoke, Sirim, care to enlighten us?" asked the Breton Brother almost scrutinizingly.
"For that matter, if you knew this much about Sal," Jakino held out his hands to them in disbelief. "Then why haven't you told him?"
"We-or rather, I-," Sirimgeira gulped. "I didn't want him to become puffed up with pride and ego. Or make him question his image of himself."
"But what if it has the opposite effect?" Heinoke proposed, glaring at his kinswoman. "What if he starts questioning himself? Is he Argonian or Dragon? It could drag him down to the depths of the most profound existential crisis."
"So, what, hide the truth from him to spare his feelings?" Jakino half-shouted. "Or your own, Priestess?" Sirimgeira nearly flinched at the sudden raise of his voice.
"That's exactly the argument I gave her two months ago!" Heinoke pointed out. "It's due to her own personal feelings that she won't tell Sal-Gheel the truth. But I want to tell him." He pointed his thumb at himself. "It's the whole reason why we adopted him: so we could all discover the truth together."
"You could have told us!" Valutinian pressed his hands to his heart. "You know you can trust us!" He looked utterly betrayed.
"Wait a minute!" Bovkianne interjected before the conflict could escalate. "I'm confused. You say Sal-Gheel is indeed a Dragon, it can't make him divine in his own right…Can it?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Mathnude rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We acknowledge Secunda as a goddess, too, Kianne." He indicated the white moon and Bovkianne nodded. "And here we are holding this festival to honor her. So Sal-Gheel may be an Argonian and a Dragon. But it doesn't make him a divine being in his own right.
"Secunda's kiss is upon Sal-Gheel," Bovkianne observed, to which Mathnude agreed.
"He's still mortal." Aravayana held up a finger. "He was born naturally and mortally. Hatched from an egg beneath the roots of a Hist tree. Just as his parents and all Saxhleel are."
"But Dragons are the literal children of Akatosh," Heinoke remarked. "So Sal-Gheel himself must be one, too."
"How can that even be possible?" Valutinian wondered aloud. "Sal-Gheel is a complete Argonian. How can he bear the powers of the Dragons, the offspring of Akatosh?"
"Are you saying that Dragons don't exist?" Sirimgeira rounded on the Primate. She had clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing.
"I'm not saying that Dragons don't exist," Valutinian threw up his palms to excuse himself. "I've read the histories of your people, you know that. I'm just questioning how Sal-Gheel can possess their power as a natural Argonian."
"So, kinda like…?" Bovkianne scrunched up and scratched her scalp, now hopelessly baffled. "A demigod? Like Umaril the Unfeathered? He had an Ayleid mother and a divine father."
"Not necessarily, no." Sirimgeira shook her head. "Blesséd is not the same as born."
"Not the same as, say," Heinoke racked his brains. "Morihaus Breath-of-Kyne."
"Or the Tribunal of Morrowind." Aravayana stated further. "Saint Almalexia, Saint Sotha Sil, and Saint Vivec."
"Auriel is sometimes considered a demigod as well," Mathnude ventured a guess, shrugging. "At least according to some sources."
"Pardon my ignorance and lack of education, but…Demigod?" Jakino boldly ventured to inquire.
"A divine being of obscure specifications," Romarcella clarified for him. "Possibly Aedric counterparts to Daedric demiprinces, making them the offsprings of divine beings with lesser mortals. Or simply very powerful spirits. But no, Sal-Gheel doesn't fall into either category. His parents were pure mortal Saxhleel."
"Don't believe Sal-Gheel will take it well." Jakino folded his arms, judgmental and defiant. "Finding out you've been keeping secrets from him."
"Exactly." Aravayana nodded and put her hands on her hips. "He has a right to know. He deserves to be told the truth. His truth. What do you think will happen when Sal-Gheel finally finds out we kept this secret from him all his life? Could he come to resent us for our deception?"
"What makes you think he'll resent us?" Sirimgeira argued now.
"What makes you think he won't?" Jakino jabbed. Sirimgeira gasped in response, but could not find the words to counter. "All due respect, Priestess. You are not Sal-Gheel's mother."
"I might as well be!" Sirimgeira shook a reprimanding finger at the baker. But her words came shaky and hesitant; Jakino's words had struck like a dagger to her heart. "And he's as much my son as he was Mahez'ka and Jani-Deseith Calidaseer's!"
"What good will smothering and sheltering and hovering over him do, then?!" Jakino almost roared and threw his arms out on either side of himself. Sirimgeira stood her ground, but Jakino could not mistake the fear growing behind her eyes.
"Did they protect him from the burning Skooma Den? Rioters who destroyed the Lucky Old Lady? Pillar of fire that destroyed the Night Mother's crypt?!"
"What about you, Statori?" Aravayana turned to Jakino. "What do you want for the boy?"
A serious and adamant look was the Imperial's response. "Only to let him be whoever he damn well wants to be. Dragon or not."
"There isn't a middle ground," Mathnude mentioned. "We either tell him or we don't."
"Matt's right," Romarcella nodded. "We can't hide this truth from him! Not when he's been searching for it his whole life!"
"You said it yourself, Sirim!" Aravayana insisted. "'A touch of the Divine'! We have to tell him!"
"But-"
"Is everything okay?"
Everyone turned round to see Sal-Gheel standing in the yawning firelight. He was panting after his enthusiastic dancing. But wore a smile as big and bright as the bonfire.
"Everything's fine, dear." Sirimgeira crouched to reassure him. "We were all only worried about you. Please try not to run off again without telling us where you're going, okay, darling?"
"Okay, Priestess." Sal-Gheel nodded. He drummed his claws on his moonstone pendant.
"We should go back and check on the food," Mathnude told Bovkianne.
"Hey, Sal-Gheel!" Bovkianne held out her hand to the hatchling. "Do you want chili and cornbread and mooncakes for dinner?"
"That's a great idea!" Sal-Gheel hurried to her side and took her hand. "All this dancing has made me hungry!"
"We can continue this discussion after the festival, or tomorrow." Valutinian decided as the trio left. "No one is in trouble, of course," he tacked on seeing the others' concerned and anxious looks. "But I'd like to hear more about this…Dragon business."
"So what now?" Romarcella asked as everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They made their way back to the tent.
"What else?" Jakino broke into a genuine grin. He too tapped his moonstone. "Party time."
"Hard to believe that…Gods, two hundred-forty years ago now, ain't it? Oblivion Gates were all over the place in this valley."
"There used to be an Oblivion Gate here?" Sal-Gheel swallowed a mouthful of steaming chili.
"Aye," Heinoke pointed outside the tent. "From the historical maps, apparently there used to be one right over there." He indicated the bonfire.
"But the Hero of Kvatch closed it, right?" Sal-Gheel lifted another spoonful to his mouth. "Jodjashirr Tarkravbus?"
"That he did." Mathnude sat down on Sal-Gheel's other side with his own meal. "And some dozens more afterwards. Including the one outside our very own Bravil."
"Including the Great Oblivion Gate outside Bruma." Bovkianne brought a plate of freshly-baked mooncakes to the table. This she set in the center of the feasting males.
"Wow…" The hatchling's eyes sparkled. Tongues of flame from the oven and the bonfire danced in his eyes. "I hope I can do something legendary like that someday!" He fidgeted on his stool.
"Let's not dream too big, kid," Mathnude held out a hand to pacify him. Heinoke snorted into his mug of mead and took a slug.
"But I want to!" Sal-Gheel bounced in his seat. "I want to do legendary heroic deeds like the Hero of Kvatch did!" He waved his hands in the air in a grandiose fashion.
"Perhaps you will someday," Heinoke surfaced from his mead. "But not now. You're still far too young, Sal-Gheel."
"But there's absolutely nothing wrong with having ambitions like that." Bovkianne reached across the table.
"Then what can I do?" Sal-Gheel put his free hand in hers.
"You can continue what you've already been doing," Mathnude placed a slice of cornbread beside the hatchling's chili. "Following the commandments of the Divines and the Hist; obeying the clergy, studying your scriptures, praying to the Eight Divines, participating in chapel mass, and doing your part to earn your keep. Not to mention working hard in your new baking apprenticeship with Jakino Statori."
"And in time, who knows?" Heinoke grinned and elbowed Sal-Gheel in the side. "Maybe you're destined to make your own mark on history someday. You just don't know it yet." He winked to reassure the child, who could only stare in silent confusion.
"How's the chili, Sal-Gheel?" Mathnude asked.
"Scalding!" The hatchling shoveled yet more of it into his mouth.
"Mooncake?" Bovkianne offered him a thick and tender pastry shaped and colored like Secunda. He nodded, and Bovkianne placed it beside his cornbread. He took a bite out of a single wedge. Eyes closed while he chewed attentively.
A sweet dense egg yolk filling washed over his tongue. Underneath, a second filling of Sacred Lotus Seeds and red bean paste.
"Mmmmmm! It's so delicious!"
"Fresh and hot from the steamer!" Bovkianne took up her mooncake and leaned back in her chair. "A taste of High Rock right here in Cyrodiil! Enjoy that, Sal-Gheel!"
"Wha' abou' th' cornbread?" asked Mathnude. Heinoke inquired around a mouthful of the dessert.
Sal-Gheel took a sizable bite. "Crunchy and corny!" He rolled it around on his tongue. "Not too sweet and a tad bit sour with the buttermilk." He smiled. "It's just right!"
"Sal-Gheel, your wheat bread is delightful!" Romarcella called from the other table. One of Sal-Gheel's handmade loaves of wheat bread sat in the center, already sliced. "Bursting with flavor! To think you made it with your own two hands!" Aravayana nodded in vigorous agreement, her mouth full of her own slice.
"That's my little breadsmith!" Jakino crossed the room to noogie Sal-Gheel's feathers. Sal-Gheel squealed and laughed.
"Ruheeva, deelith of Mara!"
The Xerseshes entered the tent side by side and hand-in-hand. They too were catching their breaths after dancing and playing music.
"Sal-Gheel, sinha, you are a most fine dancer!" Ochemee came up behind Sal-Gheel and hugged him round his chest. "Like a bog reed in the marsh's yearly gas bloom!" The hatchling laughed and leaned into her embrace.
"Xerseshes!" Valutinian strode across the room to meet them. "Come in, make yourselves at home! I trust all your dancing has helped you work an appetite?"
"Sure has, Your Grace," Yunikeeus shook the Primate's hand, as did Ochemee.
"We've got chili, cornbread," Mathnude gestured to the counters using his spoon. "Mooncakes, salad, meat, and fruits. Help yourselves!"
They did so, and Yunikeeus sat down at the opposite table. Ochemee stood behind her husband's chair. She caressed the back of his neck and ran a hand up and down her husband's chest, torso, and stomach. Claws teased at the straps of his sash. She moved to his side and directed his hands to her breasts and midriff. Yunikeeus sighed and melted at his wife's touch. A crescent moonstone necklace hung from her neck.
"N-not in front of everybody, uxith-beeko," he managed to whisper. Ochemee chuckled and straightened up. Her husband's hands slipped from her body like water.
"I'll go get us some drinks, dear." She kissed his cheek, and he returned with the same. On her way out she wagged her tail and rear at him, blew a kiss, then left. He watched her leave. An entranced sigh escaped him.
"What?" he asked the clerics upon turning back around.
"She's got you wrapped around her finger, hasn't she?" Aravayana leaned on her armrest with a smirk. She took a drink of her green tea.
"Xhu." Yunikeeus rubbed the back of his head. "I don't deny it. If I didn't know any better…"
He snuck a furtive glance over at Sal-Gheel. The hatchling was listening to the Bretons teach him about the moon goddess Secunda. He turned back and leaned in; they did the same to listen. Valutinian, who'd just returned from refilling his wineglass, sat back down, looking earnestly confused.
"I would say Ochemee is feeling xe-qul; amorous. I think she's ready. We're both ready."
He absentmindedly tossed his salad. "To have hatchlings."
"If you say you're truly ready, then who are we to judge?" Sirimgeira spread her hands at the others, who all murmured their assent.
"Hi, Yunikeeus!" Sal-Gheel appeared beside him with a merry grin.
"Hello, sinha," Yunikeeus matched the boy's grin and hugged him tight. "You and Ochemee made a fine dancing couple tonight. Hist bless you always, Sal-Gheel."
"Yeah, well," Jakino chortled and dug into his salad. "Just don't make too much noise tonight during your lovemaking, all right? Don't forget I live right next door to you."
"Lovemaking?" Sal-Gheel's initial cheerfulness turned to skepticism in a heartbeat. "Too much noise? What do you mean by that-hey!"
In an instant, Valutinian had covered his ears. The hatchling pouted at the Primate in disbelief.
"My apologies, son, but you're not old enough to understand this yet. Watch your language, would you?!" he half-hissed half-whispered to the others. Jakino and Yunikeeus snorted into their dinners. Ochemee soon returned with two glasses and a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine.
"Imported straight from Black Marsh, my love." She placed them on the table and sat down beside her mate. "Compliments of Chideek Caycalees of Skingrad."
Yunikeeus licked his lips and the two started to eat. They especially expressed delight at the chili, cornbread, and mooncakes.
"See, Matt?" Romarcella snapped her fingers. "I told you you didn't need to overthink it!"
"We did it, Kianne!" "Secunda be praised!" The two Bretons exchanged high-fives.
"Everyone, have as much as you'd like!" Mathnude announced to the others. "There is more than enough for all!"
After dinner, they resumed exploring the Festival. The Xerseshes went their separate way. Sirimgeira and Sal-Gheel entered a small merchant shack, Jakino in tow: Flautina Colarus' Kvatch Teahouse.
"Good evening," Sirimgeira greeted the proprietor. "Do you perchance have jasmine tea leaves?"
"Indeed I do." Flautina, a short-haired brunette Imperial maiden, nodded and offered a thick foliated parchment. "Would you also like to see our catalog? It has a complete list of all of our selections."
"Isn't the caffeine in jasmine tea bad for Sal?" Jakino followed the Priestess through the teahouse.
"Surprisingly enough, it's not." Sirimgeira browsed the shelves and counters of cube-shaped wooden boxes and opaque airtight mason jars. Each one filled with delectable tea leaves and teabags. "Something in his blood neutralizes it. I don't know if it'd be the same with alcohol or Skooma, though. Not that I'd ever dare to try to expose him to such poisons."
She half-flinched when Jakino grabbed her above the elbow.
"You can't possibly mean-"
"I do, Jakino." Sirimgeira spoke in a fervent and rock-solid belief. "Sal-Gheel has Dragon Blood."
They both turned to see Sal-Gheel sitting on the checkout counter. He sniffed every jar and box of tea leaves Flautina offered him. He let out a blissful sigh after each one, and his entire body would unwind.
"Smells just like the chapel," he commented. Faulatia smiled softly back.
"Immunity to heat and fire…" Jakino began thinking aloud.
"His senses heightened beyond the natural limits of his race," Sirimgeira helped spur him along.
"Physical strength enhanced to carry anything beyond his body weight-"
"-His body temperature spiking and bloodstream glowing as a defensive mechanism-"
"-Ability to see in the dark and low light-"
"-and neutralize foreign substances in his body like caffeine…on top of Argonian's natural resistance to poison and disease…"
Jakino met Sirimgeira's eyes. "All on account of his divine Dragon Blood?"
"I'd assume so, yes." Sirimgeira turned the tea catalog over to the back side. "Just to clarify, his heart doesn't pump real Dragon Blood. But I suspect there are traces of it in his veins. He is still biologically and genetically Argonian."
"Suppose that makes some sense." Jakino returned to browsing, but could not shake the nagging questions from his mind. "All tracing back to Akatosh's blessing upon him."
"Do you see anything you like, Sal-Gheel?" Sirimgeira asked the hatchling after he'd dropped to the floor.
"Chamomile!" He pointed to the middle of a counter at a mason jar full of daisy-like seeds. They had yellow centers and white petals.
"Chamomile's his favorite," Sirimgeira told Jakino. She took the mason jar off the shelf. "Add a touch of lavender and it's delectable."
"Oh, please don't get me wrong, Priestess." Jakino held a hand to his heart and chuckled. "Enjoy a good cup of tea as much as the next person. Though nothing can truly beat a nice, hot, rich cup of coffee."
Sirimgeira too chuckled and reread the tea catalog. "To each their own." She also took a jar of juniper-green tea leaves. Jakino bought a box of herbal tea for himself.
"Thank you for your custom." Flautina handed them their purchases in small bags. "By the way, Mallicus and his wife Hermittoria Acilanox have coffee blends right next door, if you're interested."
They met Heinoke and Aravayana outside, speaking with the Glodidicuses.
"Evening, Sal-Gheel." Aquibrierius beamed at the young hatchling. "Hope you've been enjoying the Festival."
"Mr. Glodidicus!" Sal-Gheel's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Wait, but if you're here, then that means-Your blessing!" he exclaimed to Heinoke and Aravayana. "It worked!"
"Indeed it did!" Aquibrierius nodded and smiled.
"Thanks be to the Eight Divines and the Hist!" Sal-Gheel lifted his eyes heavenward.
"Hmph!" Adriarma smirked and rolled her eyes. "So your Eight Divines religion wasn't so fraudulent after all!" She folded her arms and glared off to one side.
"Well, Adriarma? I believe you owe the clergy an apology." Aquibrierius elbowed her in the side.
"Ugh, fine!" Adriarma rounded on the two clerics and Sal-Gheel. "I'm sorry for calling your religion fraudulent, and for throwing you out of my house. Satisfied?"
"What else, Adri?"
Adriarma clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Sal-Ghee could've sworn he saw steam blowing out of her ears, and suppressed a giggle.
"Thank you!" Adriarma growled through her clamped jaw. "For healing my husband."
"Apology and thanks accepted, Mrs. Glodidicus." Heinoke held a hand to his heart. Aravayana did the same. "Should you need our blessings again in the future, please do not hesitate to call upon us."
Adriarma pouted but bit her tongue. Aquibrierius roared with laughter. He turned his wife around, bade farewell to the clergy, and they walked off back into the Festival.
Valutinian joined them not long after helping clean up after dinner. As they passed by a limestone gazebo on the southeast end, Sal-Gheel recognized some two dozen familiar figures standing or sitting within. The Bravil Fighter's Guild, and another unfamiliar group.
"Fortillius! Korisephonia! Guildmaster Ildolles!" He dashed straight inside without hesitation.
Fortillius Laenapter and Korisephonia Khraemaerith stopped their conversation short. Korisephonia had leaned back against a post of the gazebo. Fortillius jumped from a bench to his feet in surprise.
"Sal-Gheel! Good heavens, boy, you're alive!"
"I didn't know you were worried about me, Mr. Laenapter." Sal-Gheel skidded to a stop at the feet of the armored Imperial.
"How on earth did you do it, lad?" Fortillius knelt to the hatchling's eye level, fascinated.
"Do what, sir?" Sal-Gheel tilted his head to one side. "I don't understand."
"Survive that wrathful inferno, of course," Fortillius scanned him up and down, but could find neither burn nor scar or charred flesh. "The one that killed Alisanne Dupre. Why didn't it destroy you?"
"You were the closest to the blast." Korisephonia appeared abreast of Fortillius. "By all accounts, you shouldn't have survived. But you did and it's the enigma of the Era."
"One thing is for sure," Ildolles Flonidius' voice rang out over everyone else's. He emerged from the shadows holding a mug of beer. "Trying to figure it out is driving me mad. You've cost me a lot of sleepless nights, Sal-Gheel Calidaseer."
He motioned to the boy with his beer. "Poring over every medical and magical book I could get my hands on to try to solve that maddening puzzle. Guess what? Nothing. Zilch. Bollocks. Still…"
The Guildmaster stepped out into the moonlight. "''Twould have been far worse if you had indeed died in that blast. So good on you for surviving."
"Erm…" Sal-Gheel stammered. "Th-thank you…sir."
To his surprise, Ildolles broke into an unusual simper. "Guess you're not a street urchin in need of a bath anymore, are you?"
"Nope," Sal-Gheel dared to shake his head, smiling. "I grew above that. Became better."
"All due respect, Guildmaster Ildolles," Valutinian waved an emphatic hand. "What Fortillius was trying to do for Sal-Gheel all those months ago was technically humanitarianism. Helping others is what the Fighter's Guild is supposed to do. The welfare of your people is worth far more than any gold. Surely the recent riots taught you as much."
"Truer words never spoken, Your Grace." Ildolles, as if in agreement and a show of repentance, kissed the Primate's ring.
"So, got taken in by the clergy, did you?" He spoke again to Sal-Gheel. "Perhaps that is a sign from the gods themselves that you are something more than a homeless, filthy, orphan street urchin."
"Maybe…" Sal-Gheel shrugged, earnestly skeptical. "I'm still trying to figure that out. They're helping me."
Ildolles sucked up the foam coating his beer. "Heh. If I had known you'd grow up to become what you are now, I probably would've treated you better. It's my fault, Sal-Gheel."
Here, the Guildmaster knelt beside Fortillius. Sal-Gheel turned to face him.
"I saw you only for what you are on the surface level. Not for what you can and will become. As master of the Fighter's Guild, it's my duty to see individuals for their potential. Not for who, what, or how they first present themselves as. I should've seen beyond the surface for what you are underneath. What you can be."
Ildolles pressed his free hand to his heart. "I understand if you can't forgive me. You'd be in the right not to do so." He lowered his head in a submissive gesture.
"Put me in sackcloth and rags and coat my head in dirt. Eight know I'd deserve it."
No one said a word. Ildolles braced himself and anticipated judgment.
"Know, penitent, that Mara is always with you." recited the hatchling. "Within her breast beats her love and affection. The symbol of her floral star adorns the walls at the wedding chapel. Her priests tend to the needs of husband and wife. And always is her gaze upon the young."
Ildolles looked back up. Sal-Gheel continued.
"To complete your venerations here, intone: 'Fivefold blessings upon the lost and lovelorn. The Heart pumps the blood that connects us across the Aurbis. May her grace always be upon me.'"
Ildolles did not hesitate. He intoned straightaway, head bowed and eyes closed. Sal-Gheel placed a hand upon his shoulder.
"'The Heart of Love'..." Sirimgeira realized. "You've been studying your scriptures, Sal-Gheel!" Jakino turned from pouring barreled ale into a mug but said nothing.
"So, this means you forgive me, Sal-Gheel?" asked the genuinely repentant Guildmaster.
"Better to suffer a wrong than to do one." Sal-Gheel smiled. His eyes twinkled in the evening starlight.
"Saryoni's Sermons." A Dunmer maiden armored shoulders to toes in Elven Armor materialized from the gazebo. She stepped up to Ildolles' other side. Sal-Gheel noticed an Elven Sword and Dagger strapped to her hips.
"Sal-Gheel," Ildolles stood up promptly, as did Fortillius. "May I introduce to you Ravelin Urvrven, Master of the Fighter's Guild in Leyawiin. You may have seen her visiting Bravil every now and again over the last seven months."
"It's an honor to meet you, ma'am," Sal-Gheel bowed in respect.
"The honor is mine, Sal-Gheel." Ravelin put a hand to her heart and inclined her head. "Ildolles and his fighters have talked my poor ears off about you, Reclamations have mercy. I hope to see you in Leyawiin someday."
"A question is surfacing in your eyes, Sal-Gheel," Fortillius mentioned. "What's bothering you, child?"
Suddenly bashful, Sal-Gheel stared at his feet and put his hands behind his back. His toes drew circles in the dirt.
"That…Bosmer…" All of a sudden he sounded timid. "Who went down into the crypt? Who was he?"
Fortillius looked to Korisephonia, who referred to Ildolles, who nodded.
"Eriador Nightwind," Fortillius answered Sal-Gheel. "No one knows where he came from, or why he was in Bravil. All that we do know is that he descended into the Night Mother's crypt…and he's the only one who came out."
"Do you know where he went?" Sal-Gheel pleaded. "Where he could be now?" Sirimgeira walked up behind him.
His heart sank when Korisephonia shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Sal-Gheel. And trust me, we've tried to find out for ourselves. We've reached out to all of our Guildhalls across Cyrodiil. But none have seen hide nor hair of that Bosmer. Whether he's hiding in the country or left it altogether…well, who can really say for sure?'"
Sal-Gheel sighed and closed his eyes. Eight Divines, wherever Eriador Nightwind is now, I pray that You will please keep him safe!
"I accept your forgiveness, Sal-Gheel." Ildolles took the hatchling's hands in your own. "You have my utmost gratitude and respect. Please, do take good care of yourself, and always watch your back. I hope to see more of you in the future, little Saxhleel." He faced the clergy.
"I sense that dark times are coming for Bravil. I don't know how, why, or when, But I've an inkling; a nagging feeling. We must be ready for the future. All of us."
Not far from the Festival grounds, Jakino sat on a riverbank. He puffed and sucked at the briarwood tobacco pipe in his mouth, and gazed out over the moonlit flowing river. The music continued behind him. Birds twittered their own song from the surrounding trees.
"Jakino?"
Sal-Gheel drew near to him from his peripheral vision. At the hatchling's crestfallen expression, he pulled his pipe out of his mouth. His heart sank with empathy.
"Something on your mind, Sal-Gheel?"
"Mr. Statori…Why did you wait seven months to apologize to me?"
The words stabbed like arrows to his heart. He took his time to grasp at the words to say. His pipe hung limp from his fingers.
"I…" he chose his words carefully. "...Let my anger consume me. Hatred and disbelief and shock that someone would steal from me. But born of guilt. Tried everything to bury it all down." He shifted his weight in his seat. Rocks and grass crunched beneath him.
"Avoided going to chapel. Couldn't-didn't-wanna bear the guilt of my sin. Feared being judged at confession. So I threw myself into my work instead. Pushed the incident to the back of my mind. But it was always there in my subconscious. Haunting me. Reminding me. Never quite letting me forget."
He turned to Sal-Gheel. He'd only listened to his confession. Jakino shifted around to face him square on.
"Apologies can be hard, I know. Simple as that. Takes an awful ton of courage to admit we're wrong. Embarrassing to admit our mistakes."
He laid his pipe in his lap and placed his hands on Sal-Gheel's shoulders. The hatchling stared him soft in the eyes.
"Want you to know something, Sal-Gheel. I'm very proud of you. Proud of you for apologizing to me. Can't imagine how much courage that must've taken for you. Proud of all you accomplished, both tonight and in the last seven months. Oughta be proud of yourself, too. Got a great destiny ahead of you."
He moved his hands to the hatchling's cheeks. Sal-Gheel sighed at his touch.
"Want to help you fulfill it. Every step of the way-Oomph!"
He started when Sal-Gheel threw himself at him. Arms around his chest.
"Thank you, Jakino.
Jakino's heart swelled with affection. He sighed and likewise wrapped his arms around the hatchling.
"You, too, Sal-Gheel."
The night wore on and soon the Festival cleared out. Sal-Gheel, Jakino, and the clergy helped clean up. Jakino carried bulging coinpurses of his earnings in the baskets, and the slumbering Sal-Gheel in his arms. Every last bread and pastry had been sold; not a crumb left.
"All tuckered out." He sat in the carriage with Sal-Gheel in his lap. The hatchling's head rested on his shoulder.
"Isn't he just precious?" Malkhest cooed at the hatchling. He placed the baskets in the empty seat.
"Indeed," Jakino rubbed Sal-Gheel's back up and down as Applejack trotted forward. "Sweet dreams, Sal-Gheel."