Chapter 4

At the start of the month of my birth, I've felt my magicka coursing through me stronger than ever. My mother used to tell me that those who were magickally inclined felt much stronger during their birth month than those who were not. And she had been right, dozens of times over. My capacity for magic is at an all-time high. Spells are stronger and last longer, I recover faster than any other month in the Tamrielic calendar. My confidence blooms with each passing day of Morningstar, the start of winter. But this month is different. Perhaps because it is the month I turn 30, as each 10th winter I've passed, I felt stronger. Now, standing before Archmage Savos and the Thalmor newcomer, Ancano, I feel unease. Especially after Savos just introduced me as their "star pupil". I trust that Savos won't allow anything politically motivated to happen on College grounds, but I am reminded that the landscape is ever-changing beyond our walls. Allowing a Thalmor in full uniform is definitely a choice, both on Faralda and Mirabelle's part. Someone had to have spoken to him for him to be dressed like the rest of us now. I swallow. I'm not sure what Savos wants me to do this time, or how the Thalmor fits into this, but I don't have a good feeling either way. Savos has been something of a mentor to me for the better part of my time here in the College, and I trust his judgement on anything. Being centuries old gives you a sense of wisdom humans will never achieve.

I've seen and met many elves in my time here and back home. I consider several elves to be among my closest friends. None of them are Thalmor, least of all loyal to the Aldmeri Dominion in ny capacity. Not even my own mother, an elderly Altmer woman, the former head of a Mage's Guild in Leyawiin. Considering the heinous crimes against sentient life that the Dominion has committed over the centuries, you'd be hard-pressed to find any non-Aldmeri elf with benevolent feelings towards them. I often wonder if my mother left the Isles shortly after the succession of power from the Great Sapiarchs to the Thalmor military wing. I'm quite sure this is my first non-hostile encounter with a Thalmor; seeing them from afar is reason enough to give them a wide berth. But I take a moment to study the newest addition to the College of Winterhold.

He possesses the physical characteristics of the inhabitants of the Summerset Isles. Tall, waifish. Deep golden skin and large amber eyes. His elven pupils contain details and fractals that mine lack, supposedly allowing him to see better. Thin ears point upwards at a severe angle, keeping his hair at bay behind them. A wide mouth, slender nose and full lips are accentuated by sharp, high cheekbones and a jaw like Zenithar's anvil, ending with a longer-than-average chin. Silver-white hair covers his scalp in an uneven hairline, vaguely resembling an "M" shape. The hair color gives away his age - elves of the known races don't turn white or even grey until at least a century has passed. Some age slower than others, in no small part due to magic, but the principle remains the same. Despite his age, his face has no noticeable lines or wrinkles. Were he not an elf, I would have estimated him to be several years older than me, approaching middle age like Mirabelle. I will have to ask of her impression of him later. Bretons don't have good history with the Thalmor, so I can't imagine she was pleased to find him here.

We both stand there, studying each other. Although it feels more like I'm studying him and he's sizing me up as a potential opponent. I could tell by the look on his face that I startled him by darting in front of them, phasing in between invisibility and visibility in the process. At Savos' introduction, his eyes widened considerably. Then his mouth formed a thin line as he now squints at me, and I remain neutral. I have no doubt he already sees me as inferior, as I'm human. Perhaps even as a woman. But for him, I have the added misfortune of being a Redguard as well. A connection that he doesn't appear to miss. I'm probably reminding him of the five year war between our people, after the Empire abandoned Hammerfell for refusing to give up their land in exchange for signing the White-Gold Concordat. I wonder if he was involved in that conflict. I wonder if he knew people who were. Perhaps he was even in Cyrodiil during the Great War.

After several tense, awkward moments of silence, I turn to the Archmage with a small smile. "Savos, you give me too much credit. I don't see myself as any different than the rest of my peers here." My voice is somewhat raspy, the last dregs of sleep stubbornly clinging to it. Lately I've been having vividly surreal dreams, and it's been affecting my sleep more often than I believe normal. I heard a small intake of breath from the Thalmor as I spoke to the Archmage, but didn't spare him a glance. I still don't know why he's here or what Savos intends with this meeting. He chuckles and gives me a paternal pat on my shoulder. "Always reluctant to toot your own horn," turning back to Ancano. "I can think of no one better to represent the best of what Winterhold has to offer than Ira, Ancano. With her current rank, she's become something of a mentor for the other mages. The 'peers' she mentioned are currently the newest additions to the College."

Ancano crosses his arms, looking back and forth between the both of us. "Archmage, with all due respect," his voice is somewhat accented and slightly nasally. "I don't like the idea of following a human around for however long is necessary. Especially if it will take away from.... whatever it is that she does here." There is palpable dismissiveness in his tone. Savos doesn't miss it either. He sighs. "I understand your reluctance, but I ask that you at least consider it.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE