"I see."
In the central courtyard of the college, Skyl sat on a bench, listening as Nirya finished her accusation and Veno his defense.
It had all happened the previous evening. The members of the study circle had tried to win over those who stayed on the sidelines. The Khajiit apprentice J'zargo had noticed that Master Nirya had been spending a lot of time lately with several members of the college who opposed Skyl. So he sneaked into Master Nirya's quarters, hoping to find evidence that she was allying herself with the opposition.
The Khajiit were neither humans nor elves. They looked like upright cats, with long tails, sharp claws on their hands, padded paws for feet, and quick, agile movements. They were also very skilled at certain less-than-honest tricks. Khajiit caravans roamed all across Tamriel; in some ways, they were like wandering gypsy traders, and their reputation was not the best.
"I'm very sorry something like this happened. The college has always prided itself on political neutrality. I never expected such… infighting to arise inside it. Since this started because of me, I'll see it through and take responsibility," Skyl said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even for him, this had been unexpected.
Nirya no longer sounded as aggressive when she faced Skyl, but she still warned him: "Watch out for your followers. They're going to get you expelled from the college."
"Thank you again. I'll do my best to make up for the damage you've suffered."
Off to the side, Veno apologized guiltily to Skyl. "Master Skyl, we never intended to cause trouble for you."
Skyl watched Nirya's retreating figure in silence for a moment, then asked quietly, "Who's in charge of your study circle?"
"Master Maryon."
No wonder, Skyl thought. The dark elves were a race particularly gifted in intrigue; the very blood of politicians flowed through their cultural traditions. Brelyna might be a mage with a pure, genuine love for magic, but she came from a noble house. With such an upbringing, she couldn't be unfamiliar with political maneuvering. Leading a group of spellcasters was probably easier for her than kneading dough.
"Then please pass on a message for me. I'd be very grateful. Tell Master Maryon that if she has a moment to spare, I'd like her to come and see me," Skyl said, still wearing the same gentle expression. Veno couldn't read his thoughts at all. This young foreigner always seemed this calm, like a pool of dead water. Aside from his thirst for knowledge, there was no sign of any mundane desires. He never slept, never rested, had no hobbies, cared nothing for what others thought of him, and never showed joy or anger.
Precisely because he was so calm, so relentless, and carried such an inhuman, almost divine air, the apprentices were convinced of Skyl's future greatness—and willingly followed him.
History on the continent of Tamriel had seen such cases before: incarnations of saints, or reincarnated demigods. They all displayed extraordinary abilities and, guided by fate, ultimately became heroes who changed the course of the world. To take a more recent example, in the Third Era there had been a true, recorded instance in Morrowind of Saint Nerevar reborn.
In the eyes of these mage apprentices, there was no doubt: Skyl was a heaven-sent hero.
And truthfully, that wasn't far off the mark. You could indeed think of Skyl as a Daedric Prince made flesh—though Daedric Princes this weak were certainly a rare sight.
Brelyna Maryon hurried over as soon as she received the message.
She paused for a moment at the edge of the courtyard to tidy her hair and took a deep breath before striding forward.
"Master Skyl, on behalf of the study circle, I'd like to offer you a sincere apology. We only wanted to repay you…"
"Shh. Just a moment, please."
Skyl was still buried in his notes. He lifted a finger without looking up, signaling Brelyna to be quiet.
She stood there, while Skyl sat on the bench, and neither of them spoke. People passed by from time to time, casting them curious glances. The summer sunlight was warm, and the courtyard's thick greenery swayed in the wind. The silence was suffocating. Brelyna's expression slowly turned bleak, her violet skin drying to a dull, ashen gray.
She stood there in a daze, not knowing how long had passed before she finally realized Skyl had raised his head. Their gazes met in midair, and Brelyna saw silvery-white ghostly light flickering in his brown-gold eyes.
Legilimency (Legilimens), the spell that let one enter another's mind and read their thoughts.
Skyl didn't often use that magic. For one, it was terribly rude; for another, he simply didn't have that strong a desire to pry.
But Brelyna's dazed, frozen expression really did make him curious. Just what was this dark elf thinking? Now he more or less understood.
——[Master Skyl is punishing me. I deserve this. The study circle should only ever have been a small group devoted purely to academic work. Once those smug upperclassmen joined, they started ordering everyone around. They're using Master Skyl's name as a club to beat their rivals down.
That idiot J'zargo dragged Master Skyl into this mess with his stupid plan. The transfer of power at the college should have happened quietly, and he should naturally have taken that position. I was supposed to be the one to bring that day about, as repayment for his selfless help.
And now everything is ruined.
But what if… damn it, the study circle was a mistake from the very start.
Skyl… ah, Skyl, please don't hate me because of this. The thought of that would cut me to the bone. No, please don't…]
"Master Maryon."
"Y-yes, Master Skyl." Brelyna pressed her lips together, trying hard to keep her face calm.
"It seems I really did overlook what you were all thinking." Skyl spoke slowly, taking care with his words. "Oh, and why are you standing there like that? You should have sat down earlier. My research just made a bit of promising progress, so I kept you waiting."
"I can come back later," Brelyna said. Her voice was like a white salmon slipping beneath the ice—muffled and low.
"There are some things that are better cleared up now. I'm not interested in the study circle you organized. Do you know why?"
"You have your own reasons. The study circle is only meant for academic exchange. It's not supposed to be a political tool."
"But it's already become a tool. Your original intention was good. No one can fault you for that. But as for the Arch-Mage's seat… if fate brings that day, the result will come on its own."
In his head, Skyl added, Just follow the game's plot. Aren will have to step down sooner or later. There's no need for a bunch of rookie mages to play at politics like mangy dogs chasing rats.
"Yes. I'll dissolve the study circle immediately and offer Scholar Nirya a formal apology." Her fingertips felt so cold they almost ached.
"That's a good way to handle it."
Brelyna rose, ready to go, when Skyl stopped her.
"But I can't just ignore all the effort you've put in. As compensation…" He handed her a notebook. "I'm going to organize a small academic salon, and I'll invite mages who have time and energy to spare to take part. This notebook contains some of my own notes and insights. Take it back with you and read through it. You can discuss it with others as well—consider it the topic for the next salon."
She hesitated for quite a while.
"Master Maryon?"
"What… oh, I'm here. I understand." Brelyna took the notebook and held it tight.
"I'm very much looking forward to seeing what kind of surprises you'll bring me."
"And, Skyl… I truly am grateful for how freely you've helped us all these days. Every one of us is."
"It was nothing."
Brelyna studied his expression closely, then let out a small, relaxed smile. She tiptoed away, almost as if a little whirlwind were carrying her along. She broke into a short run, slowed, then finally couldn't help herself and sprinted, until she vanished at the end of the courtyard's ring of low pines.
She looks very happy, Skyl thought. Probably just thrilled to be holding the great man's personal magic notebook.
Not long after Brelyna left, an unexpected visitor came along the circular colonnade at the edge of the courtyard and stopped beside Skyl.
"My apologies. I accidentally overheard your conversation. Master Skyl, would you mind speaking with me for a while?" The newcomer was the highest authority at the College of Winterhold: Arch-Mage Savos Aren.
"It would be my honor."
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.