Late Merethic Era
More than 4,500 years before the birth of the Last Dragonborn
Falmereth / Skyrim
Several Months Later
Feator Kaslana
My training progressed…
ordinarily.
That was probably the best way to describe it.
Being named the First Sword also meant that I automatically received the finest instructors in both swordsmanship and magic.
It made me feel like some kind of—brrr—Chosen One, but what could I do?
I wasn’t the first…
ahem…
First Sword, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Besides, all this generosity came with the small price of spending the rest of my life playing the role of the great defender of Auri-El’s faithful, sooo…
Then again, no one had pointed me toward some Great Evil that Only I could possibly defeat.
So everything was still within the bounds of common sense and logic.
The trope remained intact.
That said, I wasn’t about to sell myself short, either.
I wasn’t exactly the overly modest type.
I’m no genius, sure, but I’m no fool either.
After all…
I even understood why I’d been chosen.
Not just for the reasons the Archbishop had given, but also because I had more motivation and determination than the other Snow Elves.
They had no idea what kind of absolute clusterfuck awaited Tamriel.
I did, though…
And that drove me forward with the kind of determination you get when your thesis is due in a week.
The fact that I’d completed Vaisy’s training in seven years instead of twenty only reinforced the point.
Thanks to my previous life, I was capable of developing much faster…
Which, in turn, made it perfectly logical to, ahem, power-level the one person who could get the most out of the finest knight-paladins’ time.
***
“As you can imagine, I can’t teach you to control the River of Time directly,” Captain Galatyl, who stood beside me, began.
If he wasn’t the greatest swordsman among the paladins, he was certainly the greatest teacher of the sword.
Unfortunately, being the best at something doesn’t always make someone a good teacher.
History was full of examples.
“That makes sense.
Only the First Sword holds authority over the aspect of time,” I replied matter-of-factly, without a trace of smugness.
“But you saw how my predecessor used it, and…”
“Yes.
He entrusted me with training his successor.” The very, very old elf closed his eyes for a moment.
Just how old was he?
Well over four hundred, probably…
“Don’t go easy on him, Captain.
He’s quite sturdy for his age.” My adorable Vaisy finally spoke up from where she stood a short distance away.
This time, however, she was dressed in the standard armor of the knight-paladins.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Vaisy.” I gave her a mock salute with my practice sword, making sure to use the nickname that always annoyed her.
“Shall we begin, Captain?” I suggested as I cast Oakflesh on myself, a spell I knew well from the games.
Under its effects, the skin became nearly impervious to unenchanted, unsharpened steel swords, the very weapons the knight-paladins used in their sparring matches.
“You little Daedric runt,” she shot back.
I merely grinned.
“It seems my friends were right when they said the current First Sword works them to the bone by demanding three times as many lessons,” Galatil said with a faint smile as he cast the same spell upon himself before smoothly settling into his stance.
Well, what could I do?
I was simply following the routine I was used to—training every day.
Snow Elves, on the other hand, generally practiced twice a week.
Maybe three times.
But certainly not every single day.
I, however, wanted to train every single day.
Because unlike tedious lectures on jurisprudence, actually wielding a sword and using magic were far, far more interesting.
And a whole lot more useful for staying alive than memorizing yet another law—one that you could always look up in a legal code and, assuming you weren’t an idiot, understand what it said.
“Use the basic acceleration of your body’s time,” the captain instructed with almost excessive politeness as he remained in his relaxed stance.
“Your predecessor told me to phrase it exactly that way.”
“Hmm…
I think I understand what he meant…” For safety’s sake, I hadn’t used Auri-El’s power at all during the past several months, so this was effectively my first real attempt.
But I still remembered what it had felt back then, during my battle with the frost giant.
As though sunlight were warming my skin, the heat spreading through every cell of my body…
The world slowed down.
I sped up.
“It worked,” I said, watching as everything around me seemed to move a little more slowly.
About a third slower, I thought.
“Caaaaan…
yoooou…
heeear…
mee…
like this?” my current instructor asked, his words slowing to a crawl before gradually returning to their normal pace.
“You sped up your speech?” I guessed, realizing how the captain was compensating for the difference in our perception of time.
“I got used to it after working with your predece-eessor,” the man replied.
Here and there, his speech still lagged a little, but overall it wasn’t a serious problem.
“Go on.
Attack.
First, let’s see how long you can maintain that state.”
Not wasting time arguing, I rushed forward.
From my own perspective, nothing about my body felt different.
My arms and legs didn’t seem to move any faster.
But from the outside… I was probably moving much faster.
Even so, it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the captain of the Knights-Paladin, a warrior with centuries of experience.
He consistently managed to intercept my blade with his own, while his lightning magic was quick enough to catch me and disperse my flames.
Time Magic was completely broken.
Not only was I moving faster, but my stamina remained exactly the same.
My own magic wasn’t being consumed either…
Everything would have been perfect if not for one thing.
Auri-El’s blessing had its own limit, completely independent of either my physical endurance or my reserves of magicka.
It relied on something else entirely.
Something tied directly to Auri-El and the power of an Aedra.
“Hmm…” I muttered thoughtfully as the acceleration abruptly faded away.
I don’t remember anything like this from the game… or was there something, and I’d simply forgotten?
But I’d refreshed my memories constantly, replaying the events of the Elder Scrolls games in my head over and over…
Haaah…
Whatever.
It wasn’t all that important.
“Two minutes and sixteen seconds,” Galatil announced, having kept track of the duration of Auri-El’s blessing.
“Better or worse than my predecessor?” I asked, settling back into a combat stance.
The sparring match wasn’t over yet, and the captain certainly hadn’t said it was.
As for the question, I already knew the answer.
I’d managed to pry it out of that lady Archbishop who’s been alive for a thousand years.
Yep, you heard that right.
As one of Auri-El’s highest-ranking priestesses in all of Tamriel, she’d been granted a longer life so she could serve her God for longer.
Or something along those lines.
I doubted it was particularly difficult for the God of Time to pull off a trick like slowing someone’s aging.
“Almost twice as good,” the Snow Elf muttered in puzzlement, looking, to my surprise, even a little troubled.
Suuuspicious…
The strength of Auri-El’s blessing—the River of Time—didn’t actually depend on anything except Akatosh’s own will.
He alone decided how much of its power to grant His First Sword, for reasons known only to Himself…
unless, of course, the Temple’s highest-ranking clergy had fed me a somewhat embellished version of the truth.
…Sure, it was a little unpleasant knowing I depended on someone else’s will, but…
Our interests aligned.
May Auri-El watch over your path, and may your support keep this tale alive.