Chapter 6
Mother and I are in the Imperial City. I can distinctly remember walking through the grey cobblestoned streets, where every district of the city was a circle. It felt like an endless loop, it made me dizzy. Everything looked the same and it was hard for me to get a grasp of where we were. I don't know how mother did it, navigating a city that looked the same no matter which set of tall, wooden doors you walked through. At least all the statues of Cyrodiil's most famed heroes served as directional points. The first one I remember seeing, when I first visited the city, was the statue of Saint Alessia. Her pose triumphant and awe-inspiring, wielding a mighty spear in one hand while the other is swept into a tight fist above her head. A rallying cry for the enslaved Nedes, ancient Imperials, to rise against their Ayleid owners. The Champion of Cyrodiil's statue in the Temple district was erected not long after the end of the Oblivion Crisis. They made sure it was placed next to the Avatar of Akatosh, which remained in the dead center of the Imperial City. A permanent and triumphant reminder of Martin Septim's sacrifice, and a reminder of the Champion's bravery that saved us all in the end. Those two statues had always been my favorites to visit. It was said that the aspect of Mehrunes Dagon was visible from all corners of Cyrodiil, maybe even Tamriel. But the light of Akatosh shone bright enough to rival the sun, overpowering the Prince of Destruction and banishing him back to Oblivion.
For the life of me, I cannot remember why we came to the Imperial City on this particular day. The only reason I can think of is that mother wanted to visit old friends and colleagues in the Arcane University, where she was an honorary member. It has been a while since she was last here, I can recall her telling someone. She used to make the trip at least once a month, but she traveled less and less as she grew older, and that was without bringing me along. I'm not aware of it now, but this is the last time I will see the city in all its glory, before its siege by the Aldmeri Dominion. My mother's people, although she has no allegiance to them at all. The worst of the fighting hasn't reached the Imperial City itself, thankfully. Even now, I can smell the stench of decay and old blood on the wind. I didn't fully understand what war was, or the myriad of reasons why it would be waged between men and mer, but I understood its destruction and impact at an early age. I knew what was happening around me. Looking back, I think she wanted me to see the city as it should have been one final time, before the siege all but destroyed it. I believe she knew what would happen. Mother always knew. She often told me she was "burdened with the knowledge of sight". I wouldn't know what she meant by that until much later, when I was much older.
We took a carriage to get here and we are in that same carriage as we leave, sitting side by side. I have the left seat, and she's on the right. I'm wearing one of the robes mother got for me on my last winter, its light blue pairing with the color of my eyes. Our carriage strides leisurely down the road, gently rocking and swaying with each bumpy divot in the uneven dirt road. I can distinctly hear the clopping of the horse's hooves ahead of us, the creaking of the wooden wheels underneath us. Outside I hear birds chirping, insects humming and buzzing. The sounds one would associate with the summer months. We are heading North and East to Cheydinhal, our home. Perhaps I should say my home, as by all accounts, I was born there. Mother originally lived in Leyawiin, headed the Mages Guild chapter there for many, many years. But skirmishes at the border of Black Marsh between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Argonians made the city unsafe almost overnight, and so she relocated north. It was hard for her to leave, to say goodbye to her friends and colleagues, but she knew it was the right choice in the end, she told me. She always shared everything with me. Even if I didn't understand right away. It was like she knew I would understand eventually, one way or another.
We've opted for a covered carriage today, despite there not being a single cloud in the sky and otherwise perfect weather for a ride. While the sunshine was welcome, it was overwhelming in the summer months. Our day was otherwise uneventful, but I can tell something is amiss. Mother is uncharacteristically quiet during the journey back home. Usually, she tells me stories of the decades she spent growing up in the Summerset Isles and regales me with stories about the my people, the Ra Gada. Descendants of ancient and doomed Yokuda. Of their adventurous ways, their bravery, their unmacthed mastery of sword-play and the diverse yet exotic beauty of Hammerfell. But today, she sits with her hands neatly and loosely folded in her lap. I get the sense that she's waiting for something, but I don't know what. I glance to my right to look at her. She is tall and almost waif-like, her hair a silvery white that's almost blinding in the midday sun, swept into a conical shape atop her head that is almost comical in appearance. The deep orange robes she wears are a near match to the fractals of her elven eyes, which I'm surprised to find are honed in my direction. At something outside the carriage window next to me.
I turn my head to the left, peering out the window. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness of the day. At first, everything seems normal. The birds are still chirping, insects are still humming and whipping around us. And the sun is still shining. At the rate that we're going, we should be home within an hour before the sun sets. But very slowly, I notice a change. Everything gradually becomes blurry and... blue? It looks like everything outside the carriage has been submerged underwater, causing the surrounding countryside to appear bluish in hue. It feels like I've just jumped into Lake Rumare and opened my eyes after plunging through its surface. Worse yet, everything is wavy and warbly like I'm seeing everything through a haze of steam. I can no longer see the details of the countryside outside the carriage, and when I stick my head out to look to the sun, I'm horrified to see it isn't there. A strange, blue light has replaced it. Something is off about this light, too. It's huge in appearance, with what looks to be a black outline. Almost like something is eclipsing it. It's... moving and shifting in place...
This is all too much for my young mind to handle. It would be understandable if I was ill and having a fever dream, but I am very much awake and I am not ill at all. Something is happening to the world that is beyond my comprehension, and it's terrifying me to my core. What little comfort I have comes from knowing that mother would know what to do, she would know what's happening and she would explain things in a way that helps me understand this isn't the danger my mind is convincing me it is. I turn to her, looking for the much-needed guidance that will prevent me from being afraid, only to be greeted by an empty carriage seat. Mother's gone. She had been sitting serenely in the carriage with me, and now she has vanished. I didn't hear her side of the carriage door open or shut. I didn't hear her say a word. It's as if she disappeared into thin air, as she sat next to me. Now I'm openly panicking. I bolt out of my seat and scream for the carriage driver to stop, to tell him that my mother is missing and we need to find her, until it occurs to me that the carriage has stopped moving altogether. I peer around the back of my seat and I gasp. There's no carriage driver at the helm of the carriage. Even the horse pulling the carriage is gone, no doubt spooked by the sudden change in atmosphere. We've been stationary for... I don't even know how long. I just know I need to find mother and find out what in Oblivion is happening to the world around us.
My breath is coming out in short bursts, each one quicker than the last. I'm hyperventilating. If this keeps up, I won't be able to breathe and might lose consciousness. With haste, I fling the carriage door open and jump outside, ready to run in any direction as fast as my legs will carry me, and scream as loud as my small lungs can manage. A good combination will grab someone's attention, and I'm hoping it'll be the good kind. The Imperial City constantly has guards on horseback, patroling the roads the surrounding roads at all hours of the day and night. One of them is bound to be nearby, and bound to hear me, a young child in severe distress. Maybe they know where my mother went, if they happened to see her at all. I leap out of the carraige, and my feet never touch the ground. The second I'm exposed to the air outside, the blue light in the sky intensifies to engulf me and everything around me. I instinctively shield my face and head with my arms, bracing for the sudden light and for a fall that never comes. It's blinding, it's overwhelming, but it's not painful. I hang still, motionless. I feel like I'm suspended in mid-air, floating without the sensation that I'm falling. Swimming without water, flying without wind. It's almost... soothing. At least, it sufficiently quelled my panicked urge and my hyperventilation, instead replacing it with a calm confusion I can't begin to find the source of. I become aware of a sound getting closer and closer, surrounding me on all sides. A voice, speaking in an unknown language that sounds so distinctly familiar I swear I've heard it somewhere. But I can't put my finger on where...
##########
My mornings are usually uneventful, about as uneventful as a mage can hope for with everything going on here. Ever since I advanced to adept, my activities here have intensified significantly, and I found myself with more responsibilites. My skill and ability as a mage, a budding battlemage at that, has never been impacted by anything. My colleagues and professors will be the first to tell anyone of my reliability and my steadfast work ethic. But last night's dream has rattled me completely. I awoke sitting upright, almost out of my bed completely. Like I was in mid-motion ready to leave and go... where? I've never sleepwalked, and I've always been a restful sleeper. Never have I woken from a dream practically vertical. And never have I had a dream so vividly lucid that I could have sworn to the Nine that it was real. I've had many dreams over the years, and this is the first dream I've had about my mother since leaving Cyrodiil. I feel my chest constrict at her memory, and I instinctively clasp at the Julianos amulet she made for me, fastened snugly around my neck. Our last letter was months ago, and even though I know she's doing well, part of me still worries that the Dominion will find her and won't take kindly to one of their own defending the men from them. Her last letter had been so calmly worded, it gave me the reassurance that my worries were misplaced. After all, mother was cursed with the knowledge of sight, and she wouldn't sugarcoat if things were as bad as they seemed. Especially now that I'm older. Focusing on my studies here has been challenging, but not entirely impossible.
I am hyper-aware of every step I take as I walk to the Hall of the Elements, my dream from the previous night replaying itself in a loop in the quiet moment I've been afforded. I am barely aware of the short conversation the Thalmor behind me, Ancano, has with Mirabelle as we walk past her. I almost didn't see her myself. It's taken everything in me to act normally after I woke up this morning. The homemade shah'rakesh I managed to scrounge together helped tremendously, as did the laugh we all shared at Onmund's insisting that he can eat the Redguard dish that we all warned would be too spicy for him. I can't help but smile to myself at the memory. If someone had told me I would have a Thalmor following me around the College of Winterhold, I'd have thought them mad. Yet I find myself walking up the steps to the Arcaneum, with a prickling awareness at my back that is Ancano. The Archmage's newly appointed advisor, a title I very strongly doubt is legitimate. Savos has been our archmage for decades. Longer than I and many of my colleagues have been alive. The only thing close to resembling help that he has needed as come in the form of Mirabelle, and that's really help purely on an organizational level. Despite the reputation of magic users across Tamriel, especially in the wake of the Oblivion Crisis, we still receive a steady stream of applicants and new additions from all over Tamriel. As much as the bigots of Eastmarch like Kraldar and those from other parts of Skyrim want to believe, magic isn't going anywhere, and neither is the pursuit of learning it.
I have always trusted Savos' and Mirabelle's judgement for as long as I've come to know the both of them. Neither of their leaderships have led any of us astray, for any reason. Nor would they willfully put anyone under their care in harm's way. So it goes without saying that they wouldn't have allowed an agent from the Aldmeri Dominion into the College grounds if they thought it would pose a danger to any of us. So if Savos thinks I'm the best one to help Ancano transition into the College of Winterhold, then I must trust the process. And hope that the Thalmor has been sufficiently muzzled. But honestly, the irony of the entire situation is laughable. I can't imagine Savos isn't aware of the history between the Redguards and the Aldmer, about the five year war fought between our people not too long ago. He wouldn't have left Ancano in the company of a Redguard unsupervised for three days otherwise. But perhaps, the College being politically neutral is what Savos is hoping will foster civility between everyone here, not just the Thalmor and I. And maybe having been born and raised in the Empire's seat of Cyrodiil makes me somewhat removed from my ancestor's history. In the meantime, for all I know, Savos is preparing something for Ancano as we speak. But I would be lying if I said I wouldn't be relieved when this was all over. Not much scares me or even makes me nervous these days, not with what I've seen and learned here. But having a dream that life-like was sincerely rattling, and I can't even begin to comprehend what it might mean. I'm itching to write to mother again and tell her everything, which I resolve to do later. She'll have an answer for me. I know she will.
We've begun the ascent to the Arcaneum above the Hall of the Elements, I was so lost in thought I barely remember the transition from the courtyard to here. And I was so enjoying the quiet and reflective Solitude that a shuffle and a swear behind me makes me visibly jolt. Ancano has nearly lost his footing while climbing the stairs, and I belatedly remember how dark it is here. The tiny candles bolted to the walls between each set of stairs do little to make the staircase more visible, especially at night. This is actually an excellent practice of magelight for beginner students who know next to nothing about magic and spells, and want to start out with something harmless but useful and practical. But some of the more advanced magic users, and the overly amibitous J'zargos of this world, see it as a waste of time and even a hassle. Tolfdir always warned us about those types, how magic can destroy you in more ways than one. None of us knew what he meant by that, and I'm not eager to find out for myself at any rate. Ancano mutters something I'm quite sure is another swear as he rights himself. "I can't imagine how they expect anyone to see in this," I stop beneath one of the small candles in the staircase just below the Arcaneum to wait for him. Ancano is walking up the steps gingerly, like they're going to collapse underneath his weight at any moment. This would have been funny under different circumstances. Part of me finds it funny now, and I feel my lips slowly form into a small smile.
He glances up to look at me and something flashes across his face as our eyes meet, before resuming it's disinterested scowl. "I'm sure my struggles are endlessly amusing to you, Redguard. But we don't have all day to stand around staircases." I'm more surprised he even picked up the faint look on my face. He reaches the top of the stairs and stands in front of me, waiting for a response. He's looking at me with a cross between disgust and... I'm not even sure what. I feel like an insect he's just come across that he wasn't expecting to see. A really ugly insect, if the degree of his scowl is any indication. "Suit yourself, Thalmor. It would have been more amusing if you had tripped and fallen," I shrug and continue up the stairs. We're almost to the Arcaneum, and I can hear the quiet descend as we get closer. The College's entire library was run by a single person who had been here almost as long as Savos. He cut an imposing figure and was terrifying to newer students, but Mirabelle had been right from the beginning about him - he was knowledgeable and actually very helpful, provided he wasn't unduly antagonized. Ancano scoffs behind me. "Keep wishfully thinking, Redguard. It'll take much more than that to get rid of me." Despite myself, my lips quirk at the response. What is happening? It should not be this easy or amusing speaking to an agent of the Aldmeri Dominion. Who knows how many people he's tortured for worshipping Talos? Or murdered in one of the many wars his government started? I pick up the pace and climb the steps faster, a little alarmed when I hear Ancano follow suit behind me.
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We round one final bend on the right, and are instantly greeted by Urag's front desk. A tall window on our left has a spectacular amount of light coming through it, giving the entrance to the Arcaneum a heavenly abode. A small table, chair and bench in one corner are the only decorations in this space, alongside a few bookshelves filled with tomes one would find at any common trader of bookstore in Skyrim or beyond. Urag keeps the more common titles in easily accessible places. According to him, they're easier to find and what most people are looking for anyway. The upper levels of the Arcaneum are reserved for the ones who do know what they're looking for, and are sorted by their specific nature. Spell tomes, historical texts, ancient journals, arcane volumes, and other categories that I can't count on one hand. And Urag gro-Shub, the notoriously cranky but beloved librarian, oversaw every single one. It is said he had a photographic memory of the Arcaneum, and memorized every book in every place to which it belonged. Some didn't believe the rumor to be true, but none were willing to disprove the theory for themselves. We all knew better than to get on his bad side.
Urag's desk sits empty. I walk to the desk and peer around it, finding nothing. I notice the weapon Urag keeps underneath the counter, a sword made of pure orichalcum, and smile at its presence. Urag hasn't lived in or even visited a stronghold in decades, but old habits die hard. I have no doubt he still carries the orichalcum dagger at his hip wherever he goes. He is most likely upstairs, ensuring the Arcaneum itself is clean and orderly. Even though it undoubtedly clean and orderly before he left the place the night before. Despite what Urag wanted people to believe about the librarian, he in fact did not sleep here. His room was in the Hall of Countenance. At first I didn't understand why Urag wasn't boarded with the the professors in the Hall of Diligence, until I learned that their rooms were on the first floor and their offices were on the second floor. Urag didn't teach anything and wasn't a considered a professor in any subject, but it wouldn't have been appropriate to room him with first-year students. And besides, he seems to like the Hall of Countenance anyway. Since it's on the same side of the College as the Hall of Diligence, he gets to be close enough to the Arcaneum that he can get here in no time. Which I no doubt he's already done, and is most likely upstairs-
"And just what do you think YOU'RE doing?"
The deep, gravelly voice startles me out of my musings. I whip around, both of my forearms leaning slightly against the counter behind me. While I was distracted, Ancano had taken it upon himself to wordlessly peruse the bookcases in the dark corners of the Arcaneum's entrance. He stands in a corner across from me and off to the left, next to the window, the doors to the bookcase in front of him ajar. He seemed to find a book interesting enough that he had it in his hands and was rifling through the pages, using the the window as a light source. It was a risky choice that had dire consequences. One of which has already come to pass - being caught by Urag gro-Shub, the College librarian who treated the Arcaneum and all of its common, ancient and obscure tomes as his children. The aging orc, clad in yellow robes with a heavy mantled collar and thin fur boots, stands at the bottom of the staircase leading to the Arcaneum's upper level. Neither of us heard him approach. He's squared off, fists planted on his hips, and he stares directly at Ancano with a withering look. Ancano looks taken aback for the briefest of moments, before straightening his posture and assuming nonchalance. If he was caught off guard by Urag's sudden appearance, he doesn't let it show for long. "I don't see why that's a concern for you, Orc. But if you must know, I'm merely acquainting myself with the titles in this library. Although I must say, this collection is incredibly subpar."
My eyes close as I breathe deeply, bracing myself for the conflict about to unfold in front of me. I accept what my distraction in the wake of my dream from last night has come to cost me. Belatedly, I realize I should have told Ancano who Urag was, and his relation to the Arcaneum. But that might not have prevented the outcome I'm witnessing now. With his behavior, this was inevitable and bound to happen at one point or another. That fool of an Altmer is going to have the entire College at his throat by the end of this. Wait... why should I care? Since when does his well-being factor into my-?
"The day I take collection advice from a Thalmor will be the day Malacath calls me to the Ashpit. I strongly suggest you return that book where you found it, Dominion boy. Or I'll find you a nice, lengthy tome on the epics of Tiber Septim pre-apotheosis, so you can find out exactly why he became the Ninth Divine."
A snort comes out of me before I can even think to stop it, followed by a hearty chuckle. I feel very much like I just watched a child get caught doing something they shouldn't have, and get actively scolded by their parent. I cover my hand with my mouth and double over in the process, my long braids falling around my head. But I'm sure it does nothing to hide the trembling of my shoulders. Say what you will about Urag, but he was hilarious whenever he wanted to be. And true to his people, had thicker skin than the rest of us and took no slack from anyone, no matter who they were. I hear the bookcase doors close forcefully, and I can only imagine Ancano's seething anger at Urag's remark, which makes me chuckle even more. I can't think of a worse way to be introduced to the Arcaneum's master. I realize Urag might actually be older than Ancano, by a few decades at least. On top of Urag's skin, which is a fading light green, Urag has also been balding for a while. But I knew better than to let age fool me. I knew the weapons he carried here and kept at his desk weren't just for show. He once mentioned in passing that every Orc child grows up in the stronghold and chooses to leave at any age, and they never forget what they learned.
After a moment I properly recover, straightening from where I stand at the front desk, still smiling. Ancano stands with his arms tightly crossed around his chest. He hasn't moved from his spot in front of the bookcase, watching me with an expression I can't fully see from the shadows that conceal him. But I have no doubt he's glaring with enough force to vaporize the both of us, if the narrow squint of his eyes are any indication. Their amber fractals are somewhat illuminated in the darkness, giving him an almost predatory look. On the other side, Urag is watching me expectedly, and I quickly realize introductions are in order. "Pardon the intrusion, Urag," I clear my throat. It's a wonder I can still sound somewhat professional now. "This is the Archmage's newly appointed advisor, Ancano," I gesture to where Ancano still stands. Neither of the mer move from their spots, and I sense a glaring match being waged in the space between them both. I allow Ancano's Thalmor uniform to tell Urag what he already knows. "I've been tasked with giving him a tour of the College while Savos and Mirabelle get things suitably prepared for him."
Urag scoffs loudly. "It seems to be the norm these days for the Dominion to get special treatment wherever they show up. Coincidentally, everyone in sight becomes their personal lackeys. Typical," he walks behind his desk. "Savos and Mirabelle have their hands full as it is, so I suppose it's better done by you than anyone else," he settles into his tall chair, hands poised on the counter like he's at a market stall ready to bargain and haggle. "At least you know what you're doing. Please be sure to inform him about the the book policy here," he shifts his head to glare at a spot behind me, where I'm sure Ancano has creeped up. "I'd rather we not have this egregious misunderstanding again." I give Urag my most sincere smile. He will never admit it, but he has something of a soft spot for me. Perhaps because I've proven to be the most compitent and useful in his eyes compared to the others. I've found several coveted titles for him over the past few months, an effort that hasn't gone unappreciated by him. Urag trusts me more around some of his books than he does anyone else, except of course Savos and Mirabelle and the other tenured professors. Provided their heads aren't in the clouds and they know what they're doing. But Urag's message with this dismissal is clear - get out while I'm still in a good mood.
"I'll make sure he knows, Urag," I bow my head slightly, a gesture Urag returns with a short nod. I turn to head for the upper level of the Arcaneum and nearly run into Ancano's chest. I hadn't realized how closely he came to stand behind me, likely towering over me to glower at Urag for the Tiber Septim slight. I jolt backwards slightly before side-stepping him in the same motion. "Ugh, do you need to stand so close?" I ask him as I approach the stairs. Ancano doesn't respond, instead following me like a listless shade. It's once we round the first set of stairs that he speaks. "It would have been nice to know ahead of time that the Arcaneum's librarian was a fucking Orc, Redguard." Oh. Someone is mad. I should be offended that Ancano speaks of Urag like someone with a clear bias against Orsimer, but Urag has been through worse, and I know the words of a "Dominion boy" such as Ancano mean nothing to him in the end. Seriously, Urag was brilliant for coming up with that nickname for him on the spot. I should use it some time. I give him a brief glance over my shoulder. "I suppose I didn't factor in that you'd be afraid of Orcs, Thalmor. I'll be sure to sufficiently warn you well in advance before we come across another one."
I hear a soft growl behind me, making me slow in my steps. I seem to have struck a nerve. That confrontation with Urag must have really rattled him, and I can't say I blame him either. Urag was frightening to newcomers regardless of why they visited the Arcaneum. But getting on his bad side... I'd rather not even think of it. But it seems Ancano hasn't handled the encounter well. Maybe- "I am not afraid of anything, Ira." Now I stop entirely, halfway up a step when I turn to face him fully. I arch an eyebrow at him. This is the first time he's addressed me by name. Redguard seemed good enough for me and him by extension, even as it was laced with dismissal and arrogant indifference. Having haughtniess and arrogance as default personality traits, I wasn't expecting the common courtesy from him of addressing me by name or even rank. Truthfully, I was certain he didn't remember what my name was at all. But in his irritation, he seems to have forgotten himself temporarily. He looks up at me with confusion before the realization of what he's said to me dawns on him.
"Perish whatever thought is running through your empty little head, girl. I only just remembered your name." There's that disinterested, bored tone. But why do I get the distinct feeling that he's trying to cover something up?
##########
The walkthrough of the Arcaneum is uneventful, and since it is still early enough in the morning, none of the professors are here preparing lessons or searching for texts related to the subject that they teach. The professors remind me that Ancano has yet to be introduced to the faculty of the College, so after leaving the Arcaneum we make our way to the Hall of Diligence. The upper level of Diligence was dedicated to the masters' personal offices, where they held office hours for anyone who wished to visit and speak with them. Normally, students of the College came to learn more about the magic schools they were studying, and there were indeed a few that we saw upstairs. I myself came here numerous times for help with spells and magical theories I struggled with, but lately my visits have become few and far between. I explain all of this to Ancano, who doesn't have a response other than a subtle look of disgust. I can't tell what's disgusting him, but it's probably everything at this point. I faintly wonder if he'll be repulsed enough by all of us alone that he'll abandon post and leave. That would be nice.
It does not escape my notice that Brelyna and Onmund are not with Master Colette, who sits in her office with another student as they diligently transcribe everything she is saying to the journal in their hands. I knew this morning that they were caught off guard by Ancano's sudden arrival, and wanted any excuse to leave. We all were, honestly. In the span of us cooking and eating, I had forgotten about him completely. But part of me hopes they did end up paying Colette a visit. From what I've overheard from Tolfdir, more people have been visiting her since our demonstration the other night. Apparently we made wards exceedingly popular among the newer and even established students, and everyone wants to learn the techniques we came up with. This sense of camaraderie is what makes me love being here. Knowing the work I do, the work we do, benefits each and every one of us and makes us better mages for it in the end. If I were Savos, I too would be proud of the College and the people in it. I step into the doorway of Master Drevis' office, and find him sitting alone. The century-old Dunmer is looking directly at me, red eyes wide and giving away no emotion. I smile at him, and his eyes widen. "Good morning, Master Drevis," I step into his office fully. Drevis kept a neat and orderly office, his desk free of clutter save for some parchments, quills, inkpots and - oddly enough - a pair of black gloves with bluish lines outlining the fingers. I've always assumed they were his, to be used during experiments with his field of expertise, illusion magic. But I've never thought to ask him.
"Wait, you can see me?!" Master Drevis looks and sounds shocked. I seemed to have caught him off guard, and all he was doing was sitting here. I frown at him, a little worried at this point. Master Drevis had a habit of keeping his head in the clouds, and he was often distracted by something none of us knew about. "Yes, Master Drevis," I tell him carefully. I'm not entirely sure what he was hoping to achieve, but it sounds like another failed attempt at invisibility. "I can see you clearly." Master Drevis smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand, the sound reverberating in the small space around us. "Confound it all! I thought for sure I was invisibile, or at least transparent," the disappointment in his voice is palpable. "And here I was thinking I was making progress." I give him a sympathetic smile and I'm about to reassure him that invisibility can be tricky to master, a piece of advice he's always given the other students, when another voice buds in from behind me.
"Not even close, Dunmer. Perhaps you need more progress than you thought."
We both turn to look at Ancano in the doorway to the office, an opening he almost entirely fills in. He's leaning against one side of the opening, arms crossed and one leg crossed over the other. The picture of leisurely boredom, he looks like he's become fully acclimated to the College. He looks like he's seen everything and remains impressed by nothing. Meanwhile, I'm sure our facial expressions vary - Ancano with boredom, Master Drevis with confusion, and me with irritation. "I'm guessing this is Savos' new advisor?" Master Drevis asks me. I don't recall seeing Master Drevis at Tolfdir's demonstration, but I have no doubt Mirabelle managed to wrangle him for long enough to brief him on the presence of a Thalmor on the College grounds. I open my mouth to answer him when Ancano buds in again. "I can speak for myself, Redguard. But to answer your question, Dunmer, yes. The Aldmeri Dominion wishes to promote a working partnership between itself and your College, hence why I am here. I'll be advising the Archmage on all matters he deems important, especially as they relate to the Aldmeri Dominion and the current political landscape."
Master Drevis shoots me a look that I can only interpret as do you believe this guy? I respond with a look of my own, which I hope is conveying not entirely, but he's allowed to stay. For now. Ancano loudly clears his throat, getting both of our attention. Neither of us were aware he was waiting for a response. Master Drevis rolls his neck, and I wonder how long he's been sitting here in his office before someone came up to him. He had been right about illusion magic, back when I first started learning from him. It was incredibly useful, especially in a pinch. And once I learned the offensive spells alongside the defensive theories, it was smooth sailing from there. Master Drevis' distracted tendencies often made him a target for practical jokes. I'm still convinced J'zargo was the one who managed to turn the insides of his pillows into bushels of apples. The khajiit could be crafty and conniving when he wanted to be, despite letting people believe his goals were single-minded and he only cared about personal pursuit. He was not above fun and games.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE