“He has already paid for his unwavering overconfidence,” Vaisy replied coldly as she slid her rapier back into its scabbard and glanced toward the body of our guide.
The Bosmer—a Wood Elves who had wandered far from his homeland—had been so convinced he understood forests better than his northern cousins that he hadn’t listened to us.
Well… he died.
Even elves don’t survive three holes through the heart.
The worst part was that because of him, we hadn’t brought our armor and had been forced to fight much more cautiously.
“But at least it was a good fight,” I said with exaggerated optimism, looking over the clearing, now half-scorched and half-frozen.
“It would’ve been better to request the assistance of the local order of Knight-Paladins and methodically wipe out the threat,” Vaysi said, voicing her opinion with an adorably serious expression.
Cute.
She was trying so hard to seem all grown-up.
Heh.
“Vaisy, what are you saying?
That’s no way to think.
Only hardship tempers the spirit of a Knight-Paladin!” I declared, putting on my most lecturing expression and adopting an equally pompous tone of voice.
“You’ll never become a serious instructor.
Your frivolity…” She sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly at my antics.
“I’m not trying to.
I’m the First Sword, not the First Teacher, my overly serious Vaisy.” I shrugged, continuing to play the part of a thoroughly immature elf.
After all, if you want to deceive your enemies…
first deceive your friends.
I couldn’t remember where I’d heard that, but it sounded perfectly reasonable to me.
…Though, Vaisy was far too clever and knew me far too well to fall for something like that.
“That’s enough.” She made an executive decision, turning back toward the same trail we’d taken into the small forest.
“We’ll report to the garrison commander and then return to the Inner Sanctuary.
It seems a few easy missions have driven every trace of seriousness out of you.
Don’t worry.
I’ll beat it back into you.”
“Uh-huh, sure…
That’s exactly why you’ve been training so hard…” I nodded with an utterly unserious expression as I followed after her.
“Hmph.” The brief sound drifted back from ahead of me, while the very tips of the cutie’s long ears turned the faintest shade of pink, betraying their owner completely.
Chuckling so hard my eyes started watering, I hurried after her.
What can I say…
These days, Vaysi trains like her life depends on it just to make sure I don’t catch up to her.
She’s embarrassed that a youngster has already come so close to matching her skill despite being younger than she is.
There were now twice as many workaholics running the poor elves ragged.
Heh-heh!
***
The Northernmost Reaches of Skyrim
The Human City of Saarthal
Late at Night
The city of men slept.
Exhausted by the day’s labor, people had fallen asleep wherever they had been working.
Despite the years that had passed since their arrival aboard King Ysgramor’s fleet, countless dangers and hardships still plagued these new lands.
To carve out a place for themselves beneath the sun, every Atmoran had to work tirelessly, for the eternal frost of their homeland continued its relentless advance toward the coast.
For all that the king’s decision to sail south had seemed like sheer madness, they had succeeded.
They had truly made it.
Though the lands of Skyrim, as the land was called ,were just as cold, it was not as utterly barren as the freezing wastes of Atmora.
Through hardship, incredible determination, and relentless perseverance, the people managed to feed themselves, gradually expanding their fields and raising mighty stone walls.
In these lands they had encountered strange beings who resembled humans, yet possessed long ears and strikingly white skin.
They could command the cold itself, and even fire and lightning.
Those among them who wielded such powers had even come to an agreement with the king to take the son of one of his closest companions as their apprentice and teach him these same arts.
For, in the judgment of the long-eared folk, the boy possessed extraordinary talent and would one day become a mighty sorcerer capable of commanding nature itself.
That had become the beginning of the relationship between the elves of the snow and the humans who had sailed to the continent.
Years had passed since then, during which the people established prosperous trade with the beautiful folk who dwelled in their palaces to the south.
But something had remained hidden from the minds of ordinary townsfolk.
As they expanded the city downward to prepare a proper resting place for their dead, the warriors discovered something that caught their attention.
Something they activated by accident.
A massive sphere crafted with unparalleled artistry.
A sphere that resembled the sun itself.
“My king, what are we to do?” one of his closest companions asked tensely.
He was also a captain of the great fleet that had carried their people to Skyrim.
“This sphere…”
“It radiates warmth!
It should belong to us!” another companion immediately declared.
Unlike the first, he was a warrior through and through.
“When it gave off that light…
all of Saarthal grew warm, as though we’d returned to the old days in Atmora, our former homeland!”
“But it was most likely made by the elves of the snow!
We can’t trust them without question!
What if it’s a trap?” another man argued heatedly, displaying the fiery temperament of his people in full.
“Well spoken!” A gray-haired man with an imposing beard slammed his fist onto the wooden table.
“Cursed sorcery!”
“That sorcery has done us no harm!” another shot back just as passionately, bringing down a fist like a sledgehammer.
“What’s wrong with using fire through elven magic instead of campfires?
Fire is fire, and whether it’s born of sorcery or not, it’ll burn fools just the same!”
“There’s truth in that…
Fire was our friend and our salvation for many long years after Atmora began to freeze!” There were many gathered in the hall, and yet another warrior voiced his support.
May Auri-El watch over your path, and may your support keep this tale alive.