Late Merethic Era.
More than 4500 years before the birth of the Last Dragonborn.
Falmeret/Skyrim.
Several days later.
Feator Kaslana.
Gloomily examining the receding ruins of the capital, I leaned back against the seat of the carriage that was carrying us away from the destroyed, burned, and frozen city.
Even though Aldwin had left, other dragons started periodically dropping by the place where their big brother had made quite a mess.
We managed to fend off attacks from single or pairs of reptiles, but everyone was aware of the interest the winged children of Auri-El had in the site of the battle where their strongest relative had gone all out.
So the capital had to be abandoned and left to the dragons, who were already demolishing its remains with each attack.
I was kept in the hands of the surviving healers for a while, who decided to patch me up first, and then kicked me out.
Because nowadays I was considered one of the last strong warriors of the entire, excuse my language, Snow Elf people.
Aldwin had simply burned everyone else.
The vulnerability of my current kin to fire manifested in full.
And during my treatment, news also came that two dozen ordinary dragons had attacked the Northern Tower of Magic and smashed it, along with most of the mages who hadn’t managed to escape through the two stationary teleport-sanctuaries of Auri-El.
So we were left without significant magical support as well.
Two archmages instead of nine…
Yeah…
Especially since all the mages remaining in the tower were weaker than Eregion, who was truly the strongest mage among the Snow Elves.
“The situation is shit and can’t get any worse,” I stated categorically, leaning against the side of the carriage taking us to the nearest city that had a teleport sanctuary.
From there, we’d be delivered to the Inner Sanctuary of the Chantry of Auri-El, where we’d hold a council.
Because, quite suddenly, the church of Aldwin’s daddy had become almost the main military force of all the Falmer.
Individual cities were seriously weakened by the dragon attacks, and the remnants of the royal army, which had fallen in the capital, could barely muster a quarter of its former numbers.
In short, my assessment of the situation was entirely and completely correct.
“What are we going to do?..” Vaysi, sitting opposite, said in a very weak tone.
She had taken much more damage in the battle, and the mages who had healed me were pretty exhausted, so my precious one was now completely bandaged under her clothes.
And Aldwin would pay for this too.
With slavery to Sheogorath.
Undoubtedly.
I’ll find that Daedric Prince of Madness’s staff and turn the son of Akatosh into a chicken.
And I’ll pluck him!
And a cheese diet is definitely in order…
Whoa…
That really got to me!
At this rate, I’ll end up becoming that Daedra’s Champion.
So, let’s calm down and start using what I’ve always been known for.
The gray matter in my head.
“What, what.
We need to figure out how to drag our southern kin into the conflict with the dragons.
They’re damn strong, especially that black one, who, as we’ve found out, is called Aldwin…
The eldest son of Auri-El, but…” I scratched my chin, twitching my eyebrow from phantom pain.
“Even he can’t stand against the whole world.” “But how to do that, that’s the question…” the girl murmured wearily, staring dejectedly at one point.
She didn’t even comment on her dislike of the southerners, though.
The attack of the scaled Khoni had really demotivated her.
“Although…
For now, let’s not do anything rash.
For now, we need to protect the remaining cities while we still can,” I began to voice my thoughts thoughtfully.
It’s unlikely Aldwin will start flying around to cities and personally destroying them.
The creature is too proud, and if I understood all those moments at the end of our battle correctly…
Then fighting an entire capital city had considerably weakened even this dragon, since by the end even ordinary magic was starting to affect him.
And then there were his words, again.
He’s too proud to spin me a pack of lies.
And he had no reason to — he could have just killed me outright…
So that means…
He wants to give his younger brothers a common enemy, one that frightens them but not Alduin himself.
What a…
Snake!
“I need to come up with a weapon against these dragons,” I continued thinking out loud, recalling how they were killed in other universes.
“Something like…
a giant bow.” A memory from Game of Thrones came to mind, when a dragon was shot down with some kind of giant crossbow.
“Something that can hit them in the air.
Without magic…
Pure mechanics…
Maybe even with huge arrows made from their own bones…” What was that thing called?..
I think it would be pretty effective, especially if I enchant my own…
But that’s only a half-measure.
No matter how many you kill, Alduin will resurrect them.
I need to find the Elder Scroll that banished the bastard into the future.
If people managed to find it while at war with the dragons, then why can’t the Snow Elves?
Despite all our recent problems, we still have more resources than the people of the future.
After all, how long were they in Skyrim during the war with the dragons?
Two hundred, three hundred years?
And we’ve been here for millennia.
…Oh, I didn’t even notice when I started calling myself a Snow Elf, even in my thoughts.
What can you do, shared troubles bring people together.
Besides, there’s no point in clinging to the past…
It happened.
It will remain.
But it’s over, and I’ve lived and experienced far more as an elf than as a human.
So it’s time to stop this circus and finally accept myself as a pretty-faced, long-eared elf.
Who has no honor or beer, yes.
I still prefer cognac, and I certainly don’t need my virginity.
The dwarf was talking about honor in that sense back then, right?..
Looking at Vaysi, who winced in pain, I had to admit that losing the latter would have to wait a while…
* * * Some years later.
The war, unexpectedly, stalled.
Involuntarily turning into a kind of Phony War, like in Earth’s history.
A bit more active, but still.
Only occasionally did the winged and scaly ones attack our easternmost cities, and with varying success, the cities and the remnants of the royal army fought them off.
With losses on our side, and in most cases, without any dragon deaths.
They just…
terrorized the Snow Elves, but for some reason didn’t set total destruction as their goal.
Either we had dealt their population a truly serious blow in those few months, and Alduin hadn’t shown up on the radar at all, or something else — it was unclear…
I spent the passing years productively, training more and more actively, while the Knight-Paladins scoured all of northern Tamriel in search of Elder Scrolls.
The Arch-Curate agreed with me that we could look for answers to our questions about dragons in them, so besides fending off the lazy dragon attacks, the Knight-Paladins were also busy with a massive search.
“So, you want to marry that girl?” one of the bishops cornered me — I can’t call it anything else.
Who also happens to be my great-grandfather in this life.
“It seems obvious to me, Bishop Kaslana,” I replied carelessly, spreading my hands, while squinting intently.
This way, I didn’t let those around me read my thoughts from my gaze — an extremely useful habit in the company of creatures who live for centuries.
“And you think this is the best choice?” he inquired, watching with me the recent pilgrimage of new recruits to the Knight-Paladins.
Formally, they were already considered equal to their more senior comrades, but for the first few years, or even decades, they lived under the supervision of experienced companions.
And until a Knight-Paladin reached the necessary minimum according to the standards set by the bishops and the Order’s Commander, they were frankly coddled.
Well…
Even the war with the dragons was no reason to stop recruiting Knight-Paladins, especially when they were more effective fighters against dragons than pure mages or warriors.
Could I have defeated my first two dragons using only a sword or only magic?
Hard-ly.
“Answer the question.” It probably sounded rude from the outside, but I was too busy to take offense at such trifles.
Besides, I really had gotten too lost in thought.
Time to stop this moping.
“Yes, the best.
There’s no time now for political marriages and other nonsense.
If you guys are thinking of marrying me off to some daughter of an Ayleid king-sorcerer, the High King of Summerset, or even the Direnni who control the Adamantite Tower, then drop that idea,” I snorted as the old elf’s face sharpened, starting to look more like a game depiction of elves than a realistic, more human one.* * — purely subjective, because to me, the local elves look more like that Altmer woman from the TESO trailers.
“And why should I drop something that could ensure the survival of our entire race?” my relative raised his eyebrows, peering intently at my features.
But I know what my face looks like right now.
I practiced in front of the mirror on purpose, and I hope no one ever finds out.
“With all due respect to our distant kin…” I shrugged, genuinely voicing my thoughts.
“But they’re too pragmatic to get involved in a fight with Alduin over a single marriage alliance, until he attacks himself.
No one wants Alinor or the Temple of the Ancestors* turned into ruins.
So let’s look at the situation realistically, Bishop.” * — The White-Gold Tower.
“…Well, I’m glad you’ve assessed the situation,” the old elf smiled somewhat unexpectedly.
“Good to know that if I die, everyone here won’t tear each other apart over a lack of brains.” “You’re quite critical of your colleagues,” I chuckled cheerfully, taking my hands off the railing of the observation balcony.
“Realistically, as you said,” the old man mirrored my smirk, hiding his hands behind his back.
“They…
are afraid.
After all, the defense of our abode, our Sanctuary, will be worse than that of the royal capital.” “They worry too much.
We’re too far away and too well hidden,” I shrugged, recalling information from the expansion.
Fortunately, the vampire DLC was my favorite, and I remembered Gelebor’s words.
In the end, the last elves were killed by their own kin, who had degenerated to a barbaric level — the same Falmer from the game.
And that didn’t happen in a single generation of slavery under the Dwemer, the local elf-dwarves with Sumerian beards.
That is, the Forgotten Vale remained hidden long enough.
“Exactly.
But try explaining that to them, worrying about their families,” my great-grandfather shook his head, closing his eyes.
“And what about renouncing worldly things and all that?” I twirled my hand, and immediately met a very, very skeptical look from my relative’s wide-open eyes.
“I’ll be honest — Auri-El doesn’t give a damn about us, as long as none of us becomes Arch-Curate,” he snorted, displaying simply unthinkable blasphemy.
For which some paladins would gladly kill him without trial or investigation, yes.
“So cut the chatter and tell me what you’ve come up with for your Air Defense.
That’s what you called that ballista project, right?” “Not until you tell me how progress is going on creating weapons and armor from dragon bones,” I made a counter-offer, casually noting an elf running towards us in the corridor window.
“Go ask the Arch-Curate, I’m not in charge of that area,” he dodged, now folding his arms across his chest.
“Oh, come on, Bishop Kaslana, you have your supporters in every restroom…
What did you want, Curufinwë?” I recognized one of my, um, would-be students.
I’d given a few lessons on dragon-slaying over the past years, and they were so grateful they followed me around like a tail.
Sometimes I feel like a mother duck leading her ducklings across the road.
“Master…
First Sword…
There…” and, clearly on my advice, he exhaled, waited ten seconds, and the panting elf straightened up and began to report more clearly.
“Master First Sword, there’s an attack on Saarthal!
It’s the northern men again!
His Highness is requesting help from the Temple, and in the Commander’s absence, the Arch-Curate has delegated his authority to you…” “Thank you, I remember,” I somewhat shamed the overly hasty boy.
And no, I was calmer in my childhood…
Well…
In a sense.
Ah.
Shit.
Fucking genocide enthusiasts.
Couldn’t you at least do your job properly and kill everyone?
Including the main leader of the city!
No-o-o, we’ll let him go.
Id-i-ots.
So, during the war with the dragons, I’ll have to fight people too.
Great.
And you can’t prove that all those who slaughtered their families have already fallen in the capital.
Or maybe not all of them — the documents about what happened also burned in the dragon’s fire.
Trouble…
The Atmorans are still extremely strong and resilient guys, tougher than the Nords will be.
So even a thousand warriors on their side would make even our white hair turn gray.
“How many are there?” I asked, getting ready to rush to the scene.
Better to try and negotiate with Ysgramor right now.
And depending on his strength, settle matters…
Possibly even give him those lands where the dragons are currently roaming.
The ones where our capital was, for example.
Yes, losing fertile lands is not good…
But it’s better to become dependent on grain from the Direnni than to lose the already dwindling Snow Elf population in senseless battles.
“Several thousand, as His Highness’s men reported,” came the reply, with a slight tremor.
“That’s a lot…
Is that including women and children, or just warriors?” I asked, walking towards the exit.
The messenger followed me like a tail.
“Um…” he hesitated, clearly not knowing the answer to my question.
“The royal army continues to disappoint.
They saw a crowd of barbarians and only counted the total number.
What about the baggage train, the ships?” I shook my head, and the boy blushed as if he were to blame for such unprofessionalism.
Fine, I’ll give the prince a preventive dressing-down later; he’s not stupid, thankfully.
Now the important thing is to make the people feel like Germans.
In Belarus.
In ’42.
Elves have a hu-u-uge potential for partisan actions on their home territory and in their native element.
Then Ysgramor will drastically reconsider his ambitions in the matter of destroying the Snow Elves, heh-heh.
“Then listen to my orders, you’ll relay them to the captains…” Time to get to work.