Evening.
“How are your successes, Vaysiniel?” the head of the family asked, distracted from eating the local chicken analog.
And pronouncing Vaysi’s full name, which I could never manage.
“In sword matters, not magic.
I’ve heard about Feator’s successes in that.” “He threw me on the ground again, showing absolutely no mercy,” I instantly voiced my point of view, accusingly pointing my fork at the Snow Elf.
“He’s gotten talkative, this chatterbox,” this white-haired wonder reacted just as quickly, making a sc-a-a-ary displeased face.
“Progress is good.
There’s improvement, despite his frivolity.” “More specifically?” inquired my current father, Fingon Kaslana, who had a very imposing physique that didn’t mesh at all with elven refinement.
Though, even at a hundred and seventy-six, he looked like the dream of human girls from fourteen to fifty in particularly advanced cases.
“Well, his level is already sufficient to join the knight-paladins.
The minimum has been passed,” Vaysi shrugged, making me sharply turn my gaze to her and stare.
“So you blatantly li…
Deceived me that I wasn’t even fit to be a Novice?” My eye twitched nervously as I realized I’d been blatantly played, and the knight-paladins were less hardcore than I expected.
“It was for motivation.
Your lack of seriousness is astounding,” this individual bared her teeth slightly, proudly flashing her eyes.
“I have enough of it as it is, you know…” I grumbled discontentedly, returning to my food.
“A worthy result,” the man inclined his head slightly in satisfaction.
“So you’ll make a worthy impression in the capital.
Especially since you’ll need to achieve outstanding success in the Chantry of Auri-El for you, as a knight-paladin, to be allowed to inherit the family title.” “Now, about that in more detail…” I perked up, sensing something unpleasant and definitely too stressful for me.
The title as such didn’t interest me, because the issue with Ysgramor and the humans from Atmora wasn’t resolved yet, and I’d probably have to skedaddle far away from the current places.
“It’s quite simple.” Fingon closed his eyes, launching into a monotonous explanation.
“As you know, Knight-Paladins are usually forbidden from inheriting titles and lands.
It’s believed they should dedicate themselves only to our God Auri-El.
And so such a thing is only permitted upon achieving one of the ten captain’s titles.
If you become a commander directly — that too.
However, that position is firmly tied to a cadet branch of the royal family, and there’s nothing for us to catch there.
As you also know, our lands aren’t too large or rich…
But we are old enough and have long been famous for many worthy Knight-Paladins.
So you have plenty of opportunities to become a captain after Vaysiniel.
Not everyone will like two of the ten captains effectively falling into the hands of one family, but…
They’ll allow it.
We don’t have much influence for the same reasons, and therefore we won’t be able to shift the balance in the Great Game.” “Intrigues.” I grimaced as much as possible, drawing unanimous, satisfied looks from the family, who also shared a dislike for subtle matters — read, they were paladins through and through.
“Yes, they are.
And as long as we don’t meddle in any suspicious schemes, our neutrality, tied to the royal family, suits everyone.” The stern platinum blond shrugged slightly.
“True neutrality doesn’t exist.” I grinned confidently, resuming my consumption of meat.
The Snow Elves had no problems with that; there was too little edible vegetation in Skyrim for vegetarianism.
“Just like the royal family at a higher level, everyone is satisfied with the role of independent arbiters who can, if necessary, resolve overly tangled situations.” Fingon looked at me carefully, studying me with a slight squint.
“So during your internship and subsequent stay in the Monastery, prepare to act as a resolver of numerous disputes.
Don’t align yourself with any faction, and you’ll have no problems.
Not even from those whose side you don’t take.
In such situations, their anger will flow around us like a stream of water around a block of ice, and will fall upon the victor, trying to wash them away a second time.” “That’s fine.
I don’t want to get involved in anything at all…
Especially with my personality…
However!
You speak as if…” A guess dawned on me, no, a full-blown epiphany.
“As if I’ll already be joining the combat wing of the Chantry of Auri-El in the capital…” “Your perceptiveness will serve you well in the future.” Father threw a glance at Vaysi, who snorted irritably.
If anyone was the last person suited for the role of an arbiter, it was her.
She’d just dish out a beating to everyone and everything and walk away sa-a-atisfied.
But that’s why I love her.
In a familial sense…
So far in a familial sense, yes!
“Dear husband.” Mother reproached her husband, speaking for the first time during dinner.
Until then, she had been devouring a similar leg of local chicken with a very appetizing look.
“Everyone has their own talents, and no two Snow Elves are alike, just as no two snowflakes are the same.” “A wise saying.” Was all Father could utter in response, clearly not intending to argue with his wife any further.
A no less wise decision on his part.
After that, the conversation about important matters somehow died down and turned into a discussion of ordinary domestic details, like the state of affairs in the lands.
There were too few Snow Elves for the usual medieval peasantry, and it increasingly resembled the fact that even commoner Falmer were city dwellers.
There were practically no villages, and all of Falmeret was a series of cities scattered across Skyrim, surrounded by fields of food.
The population didn’t increase too quickly; places for cities were chosen with room to spare, so this state of affairs hadn’t changed for a ve-e-ery long time.
Occasionally, fields were moved further away, but this never became widespread, meaning it was easily organized.
Our town, Kialis, was located 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 fight Aldwin.
It wasn’t called that now, being named Altvir — the High Mountain, the tallest in all of Tamriel, but nonetheless.
The population was about average for the hospital, so to speak, around seven hundred inhabitants.
Given the total elf population of roughly fifty thousand, that was still a decent number.
Yes, an extremely small number, but considering that one married couple had an average of three children over their long lives, the population wasn’t dying out and was even growing slightly.
But compared to humans, who could churn out children almost every year…
Not funny.
It’s clear why the sunset of the current Merethic Era is coming.
Too great a difference in numbers, not compensated for by skill.
And I’m afraid it will begin with the cheerful genocide of the Snow Elves…
Problem.
At least I’m glad I unexpectedly discovered that I’m not such a weakling; it’s Vaysi who’s so mighty.
And for my elven years, I’m extremely skilled in magic and swordplay — the elven mentality and sense of time haven’t completely driven out human habits.
I’m sure this will happen in the future, but for now…
I have an advantage, and I should use it.
And just how much time I’ll have to realize it, I’ll find out in the capital.
No point in guessing and getting nervous over nothing.
* * * Two days later.
What can be said about the capital of the Snow Elves — Falmenor?
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Wonderful.
And plenty of other similar epithets.
Located near the geyser springs of future Eastmarch, the climate here was warm enough for normal agriculture.
Given the fact that food was often the most important value for the already rich and skilled Falmer — it’s no wonder that the family that first seized these lands eventually became the royal family.
“Mmm…” I assessed the local landscapes with a thoughtful hum as we got inside the city walls.
The problem was that…
They were too good.
Sturdy, magically protected, with plenty of places for archers and mages.
So it turns out that Ysgramor and his warriors will be so numerous that they’ll be able to break through even such defenses.
But…
Still doubtful.
It can’t be that a bunch of Vikings could overcome such an advanced civilization and destroy it to its foundations.
So that no trace of it remains on the surface at all!
There’s someone else here, someone else who will fight against the Snow Elves…
But who?
.”.I expected more of an impression from you.” Noted Vaysi, walking beside me, whose chiseled figure drew no less of my attention than the surrounding beauties.
Because puberty, yes!
It’s back, the scoundrel!
“It’s beautiful, majestic, and surprisingly warm here.
I like it.” I expressed my opinion of the capital simply, casually glancing at the elegant-looking white stone buildings around.
How barbaric a creature must one be to destroy such beauty so that in the future not even ruins of it remain?..
Truly, I’m beginning to dislike the people from Atmora.
Dislike them the way a person can dislike their own people, knowing their flaws.
But alas, it’s unlikely the elves will manage to achieve peace with the arriving humans.
Both need the same region to live in.
And there aren’t that many places in it for growing the food so necessary in Skyrim.
And all these places are currently occupied by the Snow Elves.
“You have such a sad expression on your face…” My distant relative couldn’t help but note, showing natural perceptiveness.
“Really?” I noted, adding skepticism to my face and gaze.
“Why would that be?” “How should I know?
You tell me.” The white-haired individual threw up her hands, her face twisting in skepticism.
“And I don’t know.” I said, speaking the pure truth.
Because I myself don’t know what caused that emotion — the realization that this place will be destroyed, or that here people will show their most barbaric side.
Yes, my former race is multifaceted, like the elves, but…
At the moment, the facet that makes you want to fight for it, not against it, is showing.
So my side in the potential conflict is already determined.
Yes, in canon, the elves might have wiped out one human settlement, and even then, it was a pretty murky story…
And the Nords, in retaliation, wiped out almost the entire people, including the uninvolved, or condemning those Falmer who were in Skyrim to a much worse fate.
“Some melancholy has come over you, Feator.” The elf noticed my state again, making me blink and perk up a bit.
“Perhaps…
So let’s continue our training.
It’s worth preparing better for the Initiation and the Pilgrimage…” I suggested, and received an approving look from the hardworking Vaysi, along with an equally satisfied nod.