Late Merethic Era.
More than 4500 years before the birth of the Last Dragonborn.
Falmeret / Skyrim.
One year later.
Feator Kaslana.
Throwing the parchment onto the table, I exhaled irritably.
The pain in my arm from the sharp movement was already familiar, but I couldn’t say I enjoyed feeling it.
I wasn’t signing up to be a masochist.
A year had flown by…
Too fast.
Too swiftly.
Like a day you spend not doing something boring, but playing a game, for example.
You don’t have time to blink before the clock shows a completely different time.
And I didn’t have time to realize how one Skyrim winter had given way to another.
My surroundings in the Inner Sanctuary, where I had been staying all this time recovering from the virtual incarnation of an Aedra in my body, changed too little.
And this was still a small price, considering that for something similar on a larger scale, Martin Septim had turned into a statue at the end of the Oblivion Crisis.
The healing mages were left with nothing to do — my injuries were on a deeper level than the School of Regrowth could handle.
Well, whatever they’ll call it in the future.
…So I spent all this time mostly engaged in administrative and managerial work, which was inextricably linked to the military aspect.
I was not recommended to go into battle, so I was temporarily reassigned to a different direction.
Fortunately, Ysgramor was hurt worse than me back then, and also didn’t appear on the battlefield.
But he was alive, according to scout reports.
So, what happened overall during this year, and how did the situation change?
We-e-ell…
The dragons became more active, and Ysgramor’s people began to spread out into the parts of Skyrim we hadn’t settled.
Thanks to my spectacular fight with the King of Men, about half of all our cities perceived humans as a threat.
A barbaric one, but supported by the Aedra — and the elves had never dared to underestimate the latter.
Unfortunately…
Not everyone was that prudent.
And they paid the price — their cities were destroyed, and the inhabitants taken into slavery.
The combination of that incredibly talented human mage and the fearlessness of people in enchanted armor turned out to be…
The last straw on the scales for cities already weakened by dragon raids.
Working together involuntarily, the scaly ones and the humans struck at that half of our civilization that had sided with the Crown Prince.
The other half sided with the Monastery, increasingly distancing themselves from the royal family, thanks to the serious level of faith among the Snow Elves.
Especially since our territories were somewhat further from the main settlement routes of the Atmorans.
There, in the South, where in the distant future there would be the Rift, not in the lands of southern Eastmarch, where the capital once stood.
People, in general, began to spread out very quickly.
And a significant part of them settled in the very center of the province, where there were many fertile plains, and where Whiterun would appear in the future.
We didn’t settle there for one single reason — because of the rock standing in the middle of the plain, with an ancient statue of a bird on it, under which an eternal, heavenly fire burned.
A place that would be called the Heavenly Forge in the future.
None of the elves knew what it was or when it appeared.
Only one thing was clear — it had been standing there since perhaps the Dawn Era, and was older than the Mer themselves.
Whom it also actively disliked, creating an oppressive, frightening feeling for each of my current kin.
Considering all this, as well as the bird-shaped form…
I suspect some kinship with Kyne.
She is depicted as a hawk, is quite ancient, and dislikes elves because of the murder of Lorkhan by our gods.
As soon as the wounds are fully healed, I’ll test this theory.
“Feator…” Vaysi, who had entered my office, interrupted my thoughts, looking unchanged after a year.
If people in my memories changed at least somehow — hairstyle, appearance, clothes…
Then elves didn’t.
This also added to that elusive aura of stopped time, involuntarily making one forget about the passing months, years.
“Ye-e-es?” I inquired, seeing a whole stack of parchments in her hands.
“What is it this time?
Dragons attacked?
Did the people decide to break the unofficial peace with us?” “No, none of that.” My pale-faced beauty shook her head.
“Not enough time has passed for them either to forget about that Twilight Battle.” Yeah, my kin had so beautifully decided to name our brawl and the Aedra’s settling of scores at the same time.
Well, I’m not against it.
Let them have their fun.
“Then why didn’t you send your girl, Indis, to me?” I recalled the name of my sweetheart’s adjutant and errand girl.
“Because it’s better to nip rumors in the bud.” Vaysi answered me quite seriously, making me tense up.
“A-a-and, what happened?” I inquired, involuntarily touching the hilt of my blade with my fingers.
“People…
Are creating weapons in that accursed place.
Some squads have already encountered people armed with them.
And the wounds they received heal extremely poorly.
Even cuts don’t want to heal without healers.” She spoke with grim undertones, making me thoughtfully run my bandaged fingers over my chin.
“I see.
So it’s not just us gaining an advantage by making weapons from dragon bones.” I concluded, leaning back in the chair.
Yes, relatively recently, and with the cooperation of certain Dwemer city-states, who became interested in the new material, we managed to forge even the bones of Akatosh’s children.
The bearded elves, who would be called dwarves in the future, didn’t particularly revere magic, focusing on science…
And the basis of their science was precisely the metals from which they made parts of their city-states, as well as countless inventions, actively improving in their underground cities.
But there were no particular details.
They were too closed off, even from their kin.
They even agreed to work with dragon bones only because of the portion of this material that we supply to them.
Of course, besides the bones, there was also the flesh of dead dragons, but…
It’s extremely difficult to weave scales into the current smithing.
Only the blood and flesh were useful as alchemical reagents, significantly enhancing their effects.
The meat itself was not recommended for anyone who didn’t possess strong magical abilities to try.
There was simply too much energy in it for an ordinary elf, or especially a human, to adequately withstand.
No disrespect to the Atmorans, just a statement of fact — my former kin are less connected to Aetherius.
“So what are we going to do, Feator?” Vaysi interrupted my musings, but I really had been thinking too much.
“Let’s think out loud, my darling.” I said with a more open smile, watching the ears of this charming girl blush slightly and twitch.
“What goals are before us?
Exterminate people?
No.
We won’t make that mistake again.
Protect our people?
Yes.
How to do this?
Through dialogue?
No.
The current people will remind us of Saarthal for a long time.
They are too mired in hatred, driven by the widow of Lorkhan the Deceiver.
I don’t know if that expression exists, or if I made it up…
But we should act on the principle of divide and conquer.
We currently have two enemies — people and dragons.
We need to withdraw.
Wait.
Let them vent their battle fervor on each other.
And we will watch.
It’s a seditious thought, but…
There are far fewer of us than people, whose number has already exceeded ten thousand.
We don’t need vast lands, and we can wait it out.
It’s a seditious thought, but…
I am ready to sacrifice the fools who don’t even listen to their own prince.
Let them fight for the old order, for the old lands.
They give us nothing.
I am ready to sacrifice part of our people so that the rest survive.” Finishing the rather long speech in one breath, I sighed.
I am ready to sacrifice, because…
…Because I see no other choice.
Our enemies turned out to be too strong.
We can’t overpower them.
That’s not how reality works.
Besides, retreat is just as much a tactical-strategic maneuver as an offensive.
Elves are known for their long lives.
We can simply wait out the calamity.
But not by stagnating, by developing and observing how the others fight among themselves.
This won’t please those who advocate that Skyrim is the ancestral land of the Snow Elves, that it belongs to them.
Perhaps we could have defended that position.
But not against dragons; for now, we are objectively weaker than them.
I’m sure Alduin has already started resurrecting them.
So let them fight the people.
And my new people will develop in peace, tranquility, and safety.
Some might not like this approach, and some might think that only a warlike state can develop, because war is the engine of progress.
However…
We’ve had enough of this war up to our necks.
We need to digest all the progress it brought.
There’s no perfect solution anyway.
So, as a certain green goblin said…
Do.
Or do not.
There is no try.
“…if you weren’t second only to the archbishop in influence at the Monastery after the battle with the human monarch, they never would have accepted something like that.” My darling broke the hanging silence, fixing her charming blue eyes on my greyer ones with a serious look.
“I wouldn’t have voiced the idea otherwise.” I chuckled cheerfully, throwing up my hands and ignoring a fresh flash of aching pain.
After all, even if I seriously decided to meddle in Tamriel’s history, the Merethic Era would still end.
Lorkhan wasn’t completely dead, and even if not Pelinal Whitestrake, some other great human hero would arise, like Ysgramor.
And the Age of Elves would end.
The Age of Man would begin.
Every fiber of my being insisted that was how it would be.
So I needed to follow the plan that was taking clear shape in my thoughts.
“And you’re also on very good terms with the archbishop,” the elf didn’t fail to remind me, finally sitting down across from me and laying parchments on the table.
“She’s lived a long time and is tired of changing anything.
Putting out conflicts — nothing more.
I got lucky with her…
But don’t you be jealous.
Without a doubt, I got the luckiest with you.” I spoke in an almost saccharine tone, drawing an indignant look from the beauty.
I could admire her for decades…
Though I was even luckier that the local church hadn’t turned out like the one on Earth.
Not mired in corruption, perversion, and other filth that completely negated all the useful functions of that structure in my eyes.
“I’ll set aside your outrageous directness regarding me,” she muttered in a resigned, accepting tone.
“Tell me straight, the way you usually can.
What are you planning?” “Too early, my joy, too early!” I smiled mysteriously.
“Too early yet.
Let’s take a walk instead and see how my sword is doing.
It should be ready by now.” “Changing the subject again…
Fine, alright.
At least I’m sure no one else knows about your schemes, and I’ll hear about everything first.” Vaysi waved a hand, rising from her seat.
“Let’s go see what weapon all the knight-paladins will be fighting with in the future.” “Well, really…
I’m not that popular in the Order that everyone would use a blade of my type…” I looked skeptically at my almost-wife’s face as I also rose from the chair.
“I hope the smiths kept all their promises and fulfilled all my wishes regarding the look and form of my future companion…”