That evening.
“How is he progressing, Vaysiniel?” the head of the family asked, looking up from what passed for roast chicken around here.
And using Vaisy’s full name—a name I’d never be able to pronounce properly.
“With the sword, not magic.
I’ve already heard plenty about Feator’s accomplishments in that regard.”
“She threw me around like a rag doll again and didn’t go easy on me in the slightest,” I immediately offered my own version of events, accusingly pointing my fork at the Snow Elf.
“Listen to him, the little chatterbox.” The white-haired wonder shot back just as quickly, putting on a terrrrribly displeased expression.
“He’s making good progress.
He’s improving, despite his frivolous attitude.”
“Care to be more specific?” asked my current father, Fingon Caslana, whose impressively muscular build seemed completely at odds with elven grace.
Then again, even at a hundred and seventy-six, he still looked like the man of every human woman’s dreams—from fourteen to fifty, in particularly hopeless cases.
“His skills are already good enough to become a Knight-Paladin.
He’s cleared the minimum standard.” Vaisy shrugged, making me snap my head toward her and stare.
“So you were blatantly fuc…
lying to me when you said I wasn’t even fit to become an initiate?” My eye twitched as I realized I’d been thoroughly played and that the knight-paladins were a good deal less terrifying than I’d imagined.
“It was for motivation.
Your lack of seriousness is astounding.” A faint, self-satisfied grin spread across her face as her eyes gleamed with pride.
“I’ve got plenty of motivation already, thank you very much…” I grumbled, returning to my meal.
“A worthy result.” The man inclined his head in satisfaction.
“Then you’ll make a respectable impression in the capital.
More importantly, you’ll need to distinguish yourself at the Temple of Auri-El before you’ll be allowed to inherit the family title as a Knight-Paladin.”
“Hold on.
I’d like a few more details about that…” I perked up, catching the scent of something unpleasant—and undoubtedly far too troublesome for my liking.
The title itself didn’t interest me.
The whole matter of Ysgramor and the people from Atmora was still unresolved, and there was a very real chance we’d end up fleeing these lands altogether.
“It’s quite simple.” Fingon closed his eyes as he launched into a measured explanation.
“As you know, knight-paladins are generally forbidden from inheriting noble titles or lands.
It is believed that they should devote themselves solely to our god, Auri-El.
There are only two exceptions: attaining one of the ten captaincies, or becoming the Commander himself.
The latter position, however, has long been tied to a cadet branch of the royal family, so there’s no opportunity for us there.
“As you also know, our lands are neither particularly large nor especially wealthy.
However, our house is ancient, and for generations we’ve been known for producing many distinguished knight-paladins.
That means you’ll have plenty of opportunities to become a captain, following in Vaysiniel’s footsteps.
Not everyone will be pleased to see two of the ten captaincies effectively end up in the hands of a single family, but…
they’ll allow it.
For those very same reasons, our political influence remains limited, so we pose no threat to the balance of the Great Game.”
“Politics.” I grimaced as dramatically as possible, earning approving looks from the rest of the family.
They shared my distaste for such subtleties—or, more accurately, they all suffered from terminal paladin syndrome.
“That’s right.” The stern platinum blond gave a slight shrug.
“And as long as we stay out of any questionable schemes, everyone is content with our neutrality, which is rooted in our ties to the royal family.”
“True neutrality doesn’t exist,” I replied with a confident smirk before returning to my meat.
The Snow Elves had never had any trouble eating meat.
Skyrim simply didn’t have enough edible vegetation to make vegetarianism practical.
“It’s much the same with the royal family, only on a larger scale.
What everyone is content with is our role as impartial arbiters, capable of resolving disputes that become too tangled for anyone else to settle.”
Fingon studied me intently, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“So during your apprenticeship, and later during your service at the Temple, prepare yourself to act as a mediator in countless conflicts.
Join none of the factions, and you’ll have no problems—not even with those whose side you refuse to take.
In such situations, their anger will flow around us like a stream around a block of ice before crashing into the victor, trying to wash them away a second time.”
“That part’s fine.
I don’t want to get involved in any of that anyway…
especially with my personality.
But!
The way you’re talking…” A realization struck me—no, more like a full-blown epiphany.
“…it’s almost as if I’m going to join the Temple of Auri-El’s military wing the moment we reach the.”
“Your perceptiveness will serve you well in the future,” my old man said, casting a glance at Vaisy, who responded with an irritated snort.
If there was anyone utterly unsuited to the role of an impartial arbiter, it was her.
She’d simply beat the stuffing out of everyone involved and walk away perfectly satisfied.
Which was exactly why I loved her.
In an entirely familial sense…
For now, at least!
“Dear husband,” Mother gently chided him, speaking up for the first time since dinner had begun.
Until then, she’d been happily working her way through a drumstick from the local equivalent of a chicken.
“Everyone has their own talents.
No two Snow Elves are alike, just as no two snowflakes are ever the same.”
“Wise words,” Father replied simply, clearly having no intention of arguing with his wife.
An equally wise decision on his part.
Before long, the conversation drifted away from important matters and settled into ordinary domestic concerns, like the state of affairs in our lands.
The Snow Elves were far too few in number to support the kind of peasantry typical of the Middle Ages.
In fact, it seemed that even commoner Falmer were essentially townsfolk.
Villages were virtually nonexistent.
Instead, Falmeret consisted of a network of towns scattered across Skyrim, each surrounded by fields that supplied them with food.
The population grew slowly, and the towns had been founded with plenty of room for expansion, so the overall arrangement remained unchanged for a very, very long time.
Occasionally, the surrounding farmland had to be moved farther out, but never on a scale that posed any real difficulty.
Our town, Kialis, lay on the eastern side of the Throat of the World—the very mountain where, in the distant future, the Greybeards would reside and the Dragonborn would battle Alduin.
It wasn’t called that yet, however.
In those days, it was known as Altvir—the High Mountain—the tallest peak in all of Tamriel.
Its population hovered around the statistical average, roughly seven hundred residents.
Considering the total population of the Snow Elves was only about fifty thousand, that was actually a respectable number.
Yes, it was extraordinarily small, but with the average married couple having around three children over the course of their long lives, the population wasn’t declining.
If anything, it was growing, albeit slowly.
Compared to humans, though, who could crank out kids practically once a year…
it wasn’t even funny.
No wonder the Merethic Era, whose twilight I was now living through, was drawing to a close.
The population gap was simply too vast to be overcome by superior skill alone.
And I had a sinking feeling it would all begin with the cheerful genocide of the Snow Elves…
That was a problem.
At least there was one comforting realization: it turned out I wasn’t particularly weak—Vaisy was simply that ridiculously strong.
And I was already exceptionally skilled with both sword and magic for my age.
The elven perception of time and mindset hadn’t yet completely overwritten the habits I’d brought from my human life.
I’m sure that would happen eventually, but for now… I still had an advantage, and I intended to make the most of it.
As for how much time I’d have to capitalize on that advantage, I’d find that out once we reached the capital.
No point in guessing—or making myself anxious for no reason.