Chapter 2
Mirabelle hadn’t bothered to give me a tour of the grounds before she left after our initial discussion, but that was just as well. The solitude would allow me the time to compose myself. Not to mention time to familiarize myself with the College grounds. I had much better luck finding things on my own, and didn't need the irritating Breton’s “help”. Whatever that would have looked like. The sun has fully set by the time I start to make my way to the front entrance of the courtyard where the maps were posted, the faintest of light still coloring the sky. Thank Lorkhan the Domininon had the foresight to train them in cartography and map-reading.
I make it halfway through the courtyard before stopping in my tracks, standing completely still as a familiar sensation washes over me. An eerie, tingling awareness that I'm in the presence of something immensely powerful. And it's coming from my left. I've only felt this feeling a few times before, the last time when I visited the College of Sapiarchs with my grandfather, many decades ago. Being in the presence of such ancient magic was truly a humbling experience, and it's an experience echoing within me now, for reasons I can't even begin to guess.
I turn my gaze left and see two figures at my 11th sundial hour, near one of the pillars. They're in the shaded portion of the courtyard, and appeared to be in conversation with one another when I began walking near them.
An elderly male stands across from me, leaning heavily on a wooden broom. Facing away from me, he's clad in nothing but a wrinkled button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his knobby elbows, a brown vest, common slacks and work boots. His body is angled in the direction of the Hall of Attainment, but he's turned his attention to me. His attire tells me he must be a groundskeeper or caretaker for the College, but it's who he was conversing with that catches and holds my attention. This second person is the source of my sixth sense currently going haywire.
They're tall, roughly the same height as the groundskeeper. And they're wearing the same bulky, college robes as the novices I saw earlier. Only, these ones are all black, with no sigils or decorations that I can see. Their arms are crossed around their chest. A belt fastened around their waist holds the loose, thin-looking robes together. Similarly thin boots cover a long pair of legs up to the knee. The gloves look to be on the thicker side, with arm bracers that cover the entire wrist and most of the forearm. A fur-lined hood shields most of their face, and I can discern what appears to be a black mask covering the lower half of their face. The only accessory they wear is a long black cloak, draped over their shoulders and billowing with the errant breeze. Their face is angled away from me, so I can't see any features, although I barely glimpse a vertical slash of white where their right eye is. My stomach dips slightly. With us as the exception, every other elven race is known to wear facepaint. Orcs in particular favored the color white the most. Something about the color contrast with their green skin. I wrinkle my nose at the thought, as if I could smell the foul creature from where I stand.
The three of us stand still for a beat, regarding each other, before the mage turns their attention back to the groundskeeper and says something to him. The elderly man smiles and nods once, and the mage gently pats him on his shoulder as they walk past him, heading to a section of the courtyard to my left. The mage doesn't turn in my direction as they leave. I watch as they disappear behind a pillar, and I faintly hear the creaking of a wooden door open and shut soon after. The groundskeeper continues his duties, which in this moment consists of sweeping the walkway of the courtyard free of snow. He pays me no mind as I stand there, nor does he pay me any mind when I walk behind him to study the map of the College grounds. As it happens, the Hall of Attainment is the first door to my left. Not wanting to stand in the cold any longer than I already have, I make haste to the door and disappear behind it.
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It takes my eyes several moments to adjust to the darkness as I enter the Hall of Attainment. I learn very abruptly this building has no windows, but a large, brilliant shaft of blue light runs vertcally from a stone wellspring in the center of the foyer. The light reaches every corner of the space, including the rounded stone ceiling a few meters above me. A circle of wooden doors greet me in front, and I navigate to the one Mirabelle assigned me. I open the door and take in my new living space. This room was no bigger than my closet back in Alinor. A single bed with its headrest against the wall, pitifully tiny nightstands on each side of the bed, a moderately sized desk to his right and a wardrobe to my left were all the furnishings that were deemed necessary for me. The nightstands and desk drawers are stacked with supplies, such as parchment rolls, full inkpots, quills, charcoal sticks, blank scrolls and blank journals. Everything I would need for excessive note-taking. In what I can only surmise are the workings of a complete imbecile, there are alchemy ingredients in the wardrobe, and I feel a sense of dread take over me. I had hoped this place would be on par with my colleagues back in Summerset, but so far things are off to a mediocre start.
On the desk is a small metal key that opens and locks my new room. Pocketing the key, I unload my pack, groaning slightly when I finally relieve my back of the burden. I sit heavily on the edge of the bed and nestle the pack on the floor, stretching and rubbing my neck. I allow my mind to wander in the quiet solitude of my surroundings, and unease pools in my stomach. It was indeed curiosity brought me here, yes, but that curiosity was borne of something personal. Something that hasn’t left me since I arrived, lingering in the back of my mind. It sits like a loyal hound, patiently waiting for its master’s attention, ever so slightly out of view. In my case, the loyal hound was the memories. The College was resurrecting memories I didn't want to revisit at the present moment. Mostly of my grandfather, Halindaran. I can remember so vividly the secret trips I would take with him to visit the once coveted and prestigious College of Sapiarchs, where he had been an esteemed member for centuries. My father, Rulinaro, had been a member as well. Joining the College of Sapiarchs was a goal I hoped to achieve myself. Until the Oblivion Crisis happened. Gates to literal Oblivion planes popping open all along the Summerset Isles. Closing each gate turned out to be a colossal undertaking. The aftermath left our province destabilized, forcing the College of Sapiarchs, political leaders in their own right, to cede power to the military wing of the Dominion - the Thalmor.
The moment power was transferred, life as we all knew it changed the worst. Conscription into the Thalmor's ranks became mandatory military service for everyone. Summerset Isles became Alinor overnight, and we immediately broke away from the Empire. The Thalmor demanded land, the dissolution of the Emperor's bodyguards the Blades, and the banning of Talos worship, the god-king of the humans. The Thalmor's swift and bloody response to the Empire's rejection of these demands convinced me that war and conquest was their plan all along. I still my movements at the memory. And to think the Oblivion Crisis was bad. I was two centuries old, yet defying the Dominion in any way resulted in a slow, painful death. My grandfather and mother, Silanye, were too old for military service. Centuries earlier, my father had been part of a contingent assigned to Sentinel to root out and exterminate what were classified as "enemies of the Eagle". A multi-day assignment that changed his life forever. I remember when he returned like it was yesterday, the haunted expression on his face, the hollow vacancy behind his eyes. He spoke little, preferring instead to stay in his room for days at a time. We were both drafted to fight in the Great War, father and son, but I was the only one to return home alive. My grandfather and mother have long-since crossed over, so the only ones who remain of our lineage are me and my- "Damn it all," I say abruptly, as if mirroring my own father from centuries past. I am grateful for the seclusion the empty Hall of Attainment provides. Revisiting certain memories made me irrationally angry, and I had yet to figure out why. What am I going to find here? The question pops into my mind before I can stop it. I groan. I've been trying to avoid thinking about this since I arrived in Winterhold. To convince myself I have a legitimate assignment, approved by Elenwen herself. A bogus assignment that your fool of a friend Estormo forged into legitimacy, a voice can't help but remind me. A voice that sounds too much like my grandfather. Which leads me to remember the parchment I found on grandfather's desk, the conversation I overheard with my mother in his study...
I stand abruptly, physically shaking away the errant memories and lightly stretching my arms and legs. Hounds are nothing if not annoyingly loyal, to a fault. I will need to work extra hard to keep them at bay for the duration of my stay here. Distracting myself, I look around the room and realize there is another wardrobe in the inner corner of the room against the wall, that had escaped my notice previously. Opening the second wardrobe, I'm pleased to see no alchemy ingredient in sight. Instead, I find a set of plain mage robes, similar to the ones I saw the others wearing, along with matching winter gear - thick fur robes, fur gloves, fur hats, fur-lined boots, and warm capes. Everything had the College’s sigil painted onto some part of it. And here I thought we were vain. It was pointless to change out of my Thalmor robes during my stay here - everyone would know who I am by the end of tomorrow, provided Mirabelle keeps her word. I expect her to have informed the group that went into the Hall of Elements, as well as her colleagues about my arrival and ongoing presence here. A knapsack knitted from thick brown fur lies at the bottom of the wardrobe, empty. It was larger and looked better suited to the environment than my current one, which lie sitting on the rug next to his bed. It was a wonder it wasn't completely wet from all the snow outside. I take the knapsack and close the wardrobe shut, planning to use it for future use.
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I step out of my room to survey the main foyer of the Hall of Attainment. It's dead quiet, I truly am the only soul here. I suddenly realize the group of mages I saw outside are likely the same ones who are housed in this Hall. The first thing I saw when I entered was the same blue light from the courtyard, in front of Shalidor's statue. Here in the Hall, it seemed to be emanating upwards from the center of the foyer, blinding and pulsating strong. And surprisingly, it was warm, as if it were more of a magickal hearth and not a light source in an otherwise window-less building. I can see white particles floating within the beam. Candles in a space of this magnitude will only go so far. I cannot determine the source of this light, however. But I make a small aside to investigate later. Errant objects have been left on the ledge of the light; wine bottles, mugs, soul gems of various sizes, books. It suggested the mages who were housed here socialized in between lectures and activities. On the wall to my left, next to my door, is a gold plaque that reads Guest Quarters.
Similar gold plaques are affixed next to the four other doors on this floor, marking the rooms of the newest members, the novices. Underneath their names are their ranks in the College. Taking advantage of their absence, I go to each door in a sundial direction. Starting from the one directly across from me, I study and mentally categorize their race and sex at the same time. Each door is closed and locked. Onmund, Novice (Nord, male). Brelyna, Novice (Dunmer, female). J’zargo, Novice (Khajiit, male). The assortment of races here is somewhat surprising - I did not expect to see a cat here, of all races - but so far I am confident in my assessments. As a guest of the College, however temporary that may be, his plaque is nameless for the time being.
I reach the final door, the one sharing a wall with my room to the right. Ira of Astora, Adept. I pause and squint at the plaque. This individual is the highest ranking mage on this floor, perhaps in this Hall. And Ira was not a common name in Skyrim. My first guess is a male Redguard, but the surname makes me second-guess myself. Astora isn’t a location I recognize, and the Dominion had a foothold in nearly all the known provinces of Tamriel. Except Hammerfell. I feel my eyes narrow and my hands ball into fists of my own accord. The White-Gold Concordat, the official peace treaty between us and the humans, had conditions. One of which being a large swath of Hammerfell territory under Dominion control. The Redguards were far from pleased to hear about this and refused to sign the treaty, causing the Empire to promptly abandon them. Something the Redguards didn't take lightly and something we thought would be resolved rather quickly, once they realized fighting us was futile. What followed was years of bloodshed, as they fought tooth and nail to drive us out. And at great cost, they succeeded. After 5 grueling years, we came up with the Second Treaty of Stros M'kai, effectively ending the conflict. We practically scrambled to draw up the parchmentwork. But the real end result? Five years of resources down the river basin, our military defeated and humiliated, Hammerfell simultaneously independent of both us and the Empire, while devastated beyond belief, and myriads of lives lost on both sides. We blasted their infrastructure and their cities back to the first era, and they made sure to leave us battered, bruised and limping as a form of gratitude.
Hammerfell is also reminding me of Sentinel, one of its many capital cities. And Sentinel is reminding me of my father. Once a loving father, devoted to his family to a fault, albeit cold and distant in public. He never spoke of his assignment in Sentinel, but I heard about it from others in the Dominion much later. Political dissidents had fled the Isles to Hammerfell's capital city to seek refuge; my father and his company were sent to execute them. Known as the Night of Green Fire, the refugees fought back with magic of their own. But they were no match for the Thalmor's forces. Their only crime? Consorting and procreating with members of the lesser races. Many were married to the local Redguards and had children with them. Some were even married to orcs and those of the beast races. All of which the Thalmor deemed "unclean", "Unacceptable", and apparently "due cause for extermination". The Imperial Legion attempted to intervene, but arrived in time to witness the aftermath - a smouldering ruin of what was once a city of Aldmeri refugees, blackened corpses piled into smoking pyres. And they didn't stop in Sentinel, roaming the surrounding area in the region killing anyone Aldmeri, or those of mixed Aldmeri heritage. Even infants and young children were shown no mercy. It was like they were given orders to kill any Altmer or half-Altmer they encountered in Hammerfell on sight. And this went on for several days. I snap myself out of my wandering thoughts. No wonder my father went mad. No matter what is determined by history, the Redguards of Hammerfell proved without a shadow of a doubt that the descendants of ancient Yokuda were not to be trifled with. Hearing stories in Alinor about the fighting made me grateful I was in Cyrodiil assisting with enforcing the White Gold Concordat while it was taking place. As for the matter at hand, I'm fairly certain Ira of Astora is a Redguard man, however displeased I may be of this discovery. I may have to make a request for a room change if things get too tense here. I will not tolerate reminders of my people’s failure in Hammerfell, nor will I be reminded of what happened to my father. I resort to get to the bottom of the location of this "Astora" another time. I feel an invasively nagging sensation in my mind. The loyal hound has returned to its favorite spot at the back of my mind, although this time I sense some urgency with its presence. It feels... restless. Like it’s trying to warn me, telling me something is amiss. Something to do with this male Redguard’s name, like I shouldn't ignore this or put it off for too long.
I feel a heaviness settle upon my shoulders and a gnawing sensation in my stomach, and it occurs to me that I haven't eaten or slept since my arrival in Winterhold. I want to explore the Hall of the Elements, the Arcaneum above it. I want to make a map in my journal of the College grounds, every nook and cranny, every hallway and corridor and trap door. An empty stomach and a tired mind would not help me in these endeavors, not now at least. It felt as if the cold had sapped my strength completely, and what meager warmth the Hall of Attainment provided didn’t feel adequate enough. The stone walls and flooring were terrible insulators.
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In an alcove above the foyer, I find a modest cooking station, a large metal pot situated about a small hearth fire. A wooden table lined with a low-hanging bench rested against the wall next to it. Surrounding the station were barrels full of pickled and dry fruits and vegetables, salted meats and fishes, spices and herbs. Several jugs of water sit on a small shelf on a wall above the barrels. There is an impressive amount of food storage here, a necessity when you live in the middle of a frozen wasteland. I find everything needed to make a rudimentary soup, allowing the warmth to seep into my bones and rejuvenate my body. The second floor of the Hall of Attainment appeared to be a social area - a large section of the space to the right of the stairwell was open. A nearby cabinet has dozens of bottles of wine, mead, ale and everything in between. I have a simple yet quiet meal before returning downstairs to his quarters, using my remaining strength to crawl into bed. It is slightly too short for me, so I have to bend my knees and sleep on my side, but sleep takes me before I can readjust myself.
Little do I know what awaits me the next morning.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Shorter chapter this time, still trying to figure out story pacing and whatnot. Wanted to add that this takes place in the same timeframe of TES V: Skyrim, but with the main quest happening in the background. Y'know those memes where people compare life to doing side quests and ignoring the main quest for a while? This will be somewhat similar LMAO. Instead of my character being the Dragonborn, she's going to be the Archmage and only affiliated with the College of Winterhold... and another secret thing ;)
Thanks for reading!