"There are two paths for researching magic," Skyl said, speaking fluently as he laid out his understanding of magic at its roots. "One is to follow the road of natural philosophy; the other is to explore the road of transcendental philosophy."
"For us, magic based on natural philosophy will always be more intuitive and easier to grasp. Magic based on transcendental systems, on the other hand, requires special talent and the right environment, so I won't be going into that today. If we get the chance in the future, perhaps we can hold a dedicated lecture just for that."
They were gathered in the southeast corner of the Hall of the Elements. Among the listeners were not only new apprentices, but also more senior members of the College.
Skyl spoke at length about updating the foundations of magical theory, boldly introducing mathematical tools from Earth. In that moment, it was as if the spirits of Gauss and Hilbert had taken turns speaking through him, and his elegant theory hammered at the minds of the assembled mages. For the magic researchers of this era, Skyl had just opened the doors of an entirely new hall.
When the lecture ended, the room burst into applause.
The College mages were astonished to find that the concepts and material Skyl had introduced, while seemingly basic, already formed a mature framework—enough for him to write them up into a book and become a renowned scholar. Many of them did indeed suggest exactly that. A mage's path to fame, aside from adventuring, lay in publishing; and most adventuring was, in truth, just to gather results worth publishing.
But Skyl had no interest in that. The only reason he gave this sort of public lecture on foundational disciplines was to raise the College of Winterhold's overall standard. He hadn't come here to be some interworld plagiarist, recycling his old world's learning for cheap prestige. Playing academic middleman sounded unbearably dull. His real research projects were far more concrete—and far more fun. If he succeeded, he would recreate a truly terrifying system of magic.
How terrifying?
Put it this way: the damage numbers for that system would have to be recorded in scientific notation. Billions of damage per frame—enough to make the gods themselves nervous.
Once the lecture ended, people were still reluctant to leave. Skyl looked around and realized one face was missing.
"Master J'zargo didn't come?"
"That's right. He wasn't here."
Faralda came over to offer her congratulations. "A wonderful lecture, Master Skyl. We all have the feeling you're opening a new era."
Compliments of that sort came one after another, enough to make anyone feel a little light-headed.
Looking at all those faces beaming at him,
A vague thought flashed through Skyl's mind: Maybe it's time I took the next step?
It was easy to lose track of time when you were working hard at Winterhold and in the Tower of Tomes. In truth, he'd already spent more than a full year by his own internal clock. If the Tower of Tomes didn't lock his age in place, he probably would have grown a few centimeters taller by now.
This past year had been the period where he laid the foundations of his magical theory. In the Elder Scrolls world, magic and scientific education had something in common: the stronger your basics, the faster your learning.
By now, in terms of both personal power and academic standing, Skyl was already one of the standouts of the College. Staying in Winterhold any longer wouldn't offer much room for growth.
The Tower of Tomes had never once operated at full capacity. It was in desperate need of a "divine power engine" to make this god-realm roar to life.
The artifacts scattered across Skyrim already seemed to be beckoning to him.
Skyl's target was very clear: the Eye of Magnus, hidden in the ruins of Saarthal beneath the hold of Winterhold.
In the game, that artifact was a tremendous source of energy. Its power output was strong enough to show up on instruments all across the planet.
If he could get his hands on it, Skyl would no longer have anything to worry about.
Of course, artifacts weren't something you just walked up and took. The Eye of Magnus was already under the close watch of the mysterious Psijic Order, not to mention the simple logistics problem of how to move it into the Tower of Tomes once he got it.
The only method he could think of was to use a teleportation circle—and for that, he would need help. Help from people well versed in Elder Scrolls–style magic.
That thought led him, inevitably, to the study circle he'd so often turned his nose up at. One reason he'd refused to join that student society was because he really was busy; another was that he didn't think such a loose organization could be relied on. They were of little use day to day and completely unreliable in a crisis.
So in the end, he would have to build his own club with his own hands. Their meeting place would be the Tower of Tomes. That place was absolutely safe; he didn't need to worry about betrayal there. Besides, the Tower of Tomes was meant to draw in seekers of knowledge sooner or later. Skyl had given it the mission of spreading knowledge, not hoarding it.
The club's core members would have to be selected with stringent care. Quality over quantity, and character would have to be tested.
Skyl quickly settled on a few preliminary candidates in his mind. After all this time together, the people he truly approved of—and felt he could trust—came down to Brelyna and Onmund. They both had talent and ability, and they were loyal friends by nature.
But there was someone else who might just give him a pleasant surprise.
Skyl hinted at his idea of forming a club to Brelyna, partly to test the waters and partly to get her advice.
Brelyna was delighted by his decision. She said the club would need a discreet meeting place, and that there was an underground area beneath the College called the Midden, which might be perfect.
Skyl remembered the Midden. Depending on the translation, it was sometimes called "Beak Hill" as well. It was a grim place: cold and dark, crawling with ice wraiths, draugr, Frostbite Spiders and other nasty creatures. Anyone who stayed at the College long enough would eventually discover it. Many apprentices treated it as a secret base, going there to conduct dangerous experiments—and ended up losing their lives there.
"In that case, we'll hold our first meeting in the Midden."
…
When Skyl finally tracked down the Khajiit mage J'zargo, the big cat was hunched in his little room, drinking in sullen silence.
Ever since they'd met, J'zargo had received a great deal of direct and indirect teaching from Skyl, which had helped him significantly in his study of Destruction magic.
He had never forgotten that selfless aid, and had tried to use it as a bridge to grow closer to Skyl.
Within the study circle, he'd been one of the active members, but his status had always been somewhere in the middle.
That, of course, had something to do with his race. The Khajiit had a terrible reputation. Pick any gang of thieves or assassins in Tamriel and you were practically guaranteed to find Khajiit among them. They were also treated as poison-dealers, often hawking and consuming a special substance called moon sugar. Refined moon sugar became skooma, a highly addictive hallucinogen.
Khajiit caravans were often barred from entering city walls. Too many of the worst sort were among them, and it was all too common to see goods of… dubious origin laid out on their stalls.
As a mage, J'zargo had his pride. He would never tolerate anyone looking at him through eyes full of prejudice. Yet he was willing to dirty his own hands for the study circle's sake, to sacrifice his reputation for it. That kind of loyalty was rare.
"Master J'zargo. I need your help."
The Khajiit slowly set his bottle down. "Master Skyl may speak. J'zargo is listening."
"I'm preparing for an adventure and I'll need companions. I know you're not only an excellent mage, but also highly skilled in the arts of stealth."
The word "stealth" clearly stung. A chill flashed through J'zargo's eyes. "J'zargo is no thief."
"I meant no insult," Skyl said quickly. "In fact, I'm putting together an elite adventuring party, capable of handling any situation. The members of the team will support each other, and someone will have to take on roles outside that of a pure mage. A warrior, an archer, a stealth specialist—they're all indispensable."
"Master Skyl should go to the mercenaries, or to the Thieves Guild in Riften."
"I don't trust them. The partners I want to recruit are people I can trust with my back. I want to build a close-knit fellowship, one that will explore the deepest secrets of magic together."
J'zargo's eyes lit up, and he agreed on the spot.