"I know."

"...and that's it?"

"I mean, I'll show you the Dremora I can now conjure using the staff he gave me if that'll help convince you."

"'He'?"

"I mentioned she changes shapes, right? He said that she can be whatever he wants to be and gender is for other people."

"...so you're just swapping pronouns? That's gonna get really confusing."

"You'll get used to it."

Sigh. "So why are you telling me about it?"

"...huh?"

"As opposed to, say, Tolfdir," he clarifies.

"Oh. I'm gonna tell him, it's just late and I didn't want to go bother him. And besides, you're my boyfriend."

He blushes. "Oh, so now I'm your boyfriend?"

"If you're fine with us not being exclusive, yeah."

He pauses, stopping to really consider it. Then he nods. "I think... so..."

"—for some reason I expected more resistance."

He shrugs. "I've had a while to get used to it. Um. I've had feelings for you for a while, haven't I?"

...he's so cute, Ruby has to kiss him for that.

!!!!

Then he pulls away, still smiling to himself. "And besides, you know, I'm not really going to have any kinds of normal relationship that I'm culturally aware of, right? I'm already only into men, there isn't a script, so I guess I was psychologically ready to just... be... kind of weird."

"—oh, yeah, that reminds me, people in Markarth are just as naked as people here in the College."

"...okay?"

"I mean, you seemed to think your reluctance about nudity was standard for Skyrim, but I think it might be more a thing about the weather. You're from northern Skyrim yourself, right?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess... that would make sense?"

"...you find the idea hot, huh?" Ruby says, reaching down between them to fondle Onmund's cock a little bit.

"You're terrible."

"Sure am." Fondle fondle.

"Are you trying to horn me up?"

"I've missed my boyfriend and his unreasonably large cock."

...he blushes again. "It's not that big..."

"Have you seen anyone in the College with a bigger cock, excluding Phinis Gestor? Was anyone bigger than you back at your village?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Even Sanguine commented on the size of your dick."

"—seriously?"

"Yeah, she said, what was it, that he guessed I was into big dicks because of how much I enjoyed getting fucked by a giant but also because of my boyfriend."

"I—okay."

He does not know what to think with respect to the god of hedonism talking about the size of his dick.

"You find that hot, too," Ruby observes, giving Onmund's growing erection a squeeze.

Okay he guesses he knows one of the things he's thinking with respect to etc.

"Weren't you just at an orgy yesterday? Or, uh, today?"

"I'm an inherently horny person, what can I say. Also fuck me, I do in fact greatly enjoy your massive dick and want it inside me again."

"You're so romantic."

"You're incredibly smart and driven and opinionated, you blush adorably, I have a lot of fun with you and I enjoy being your boyfriend."

"...'opinionated'?" he asks, because that's the only part of that he can deal with.

"I like it!"

"Alright, if you say so."

"Oh and by the way, I figured out a nifty lubrication spell when I was afraid for my life while being held like a doll by a giant..."

He brings the topic of Sanguine up with Tolfdir, who thinks it's very interesting but doesn't express any opinions on how safe it is. Ruby is really getting the impression that that topic just does not interest Tolfdir at all. Sometimes dangerous things happen and people die, that's just life. What he's a lot more interested in is that crystal Ruby found near the hagraven's shack, the "beacon". After a bit of librarying they determine that Mount Kilkreath is where a big shrine to the Daedra Lord Meridia can be found. She's the Daedric Prince of Life and Lady of Infinite Energies, which paradoxically makes her one of the more obscure Princes. Seems like most people inclined to worship Daedra Lords tend to go for the evil ones, go figure.

Her main thing seems to be that she really really hates undead. Mostly the ones that have souls trapped within, but really she has issues even with minor animation of corpses; she holds life itself as sacred and sees anything that corrupts or distorts its cycle as an abomination unto her name that must be smitten in her holy light (the books talking about her are written in very flowery language). It seems likely that the "foul darkness" that must've "seeped into her temple" is a necromancer or a vampire or something along those lines, for her to be so annoyed by it.

(Also, that's two separate Daedric Princes taking an interest in Ruby. He does not understand, he's just some guy.)

(Maybe he was more than "just some guy" before he lost his memories.)

Next he goes to Urag gro-Shub to share his haul of books, from Morvunskar.

The library already has copies of the majority of them, especially the Spell Tomes, but a handful are new. In particular, one of the books seems to be an internal book by the Order of the Black Worm, a cult of necromancers formed by an elf called Mannimarco in the Second Era and which survives to this day despite his death at the end of the Third Era*.

"Ah, now this is an interesting one," says gro-Shub when they reach a certain book with a brown cover, a bas-relief engraving, and no name. "The Monomyth. You have no memories, yes? This might be a useful book for you. It's one of the most well-known academic treatises on the creation of the universe and the nature of the Divine. If you have not yet read it, I would urge you to. It is, in my view, fundamental to the understanding of Tamrielic culture and in particular the sociological divide between human and elf cultures."

(* The Tamrielic Calendar is divided into several eras, with varying lengths, marked by significant events. The First Era lasted nearly three thousand years, the Second Era approximately nine hundred, the Third Era a bit over four hundred, and this story takes place in the year 201 of the Fourth Era.)

"...the religious aspect is that important?"

"Yes, of course. You will understand the world much better once you make sense of it, and of the pervasive fact that human culture is based around the idea that being alive is good and elf culture surrounds the notion that being alive means being separated from the Divine. Ironic, given how long-lived elves are, compared to men."

"Shouldn't that philosophy drive all elves to commit suicide, then, if taken seriously?"

"Death does little to help; rather than being separated from the Divine in Mundus, we are separated from the Divine in Aetherius. What brings us closer to the Divine is magic, and powerful mages have a measure of control over their own existence rivalled by nothing. This may also explain why so many elves are mages, even beyond the fact that we have stronger affinity for it."

"It seems... surprising, to me, that people take these things into account to that extent in their lives."

"Individually? They don't. This is a lens for the analysis of culture, not of the actions of any given elf. But that said, elves are very long-lived, and in our hundreds of years we will eventually be faced with what it means to be mortal. Most mer do, eventually, decide to die."

"Decide?"

"It is not easy to achieve much longer lifespans than those imposed on us by nature, but not so hard that a two hundred year old elf cannot do it if they are motivated to do so. But most... aren't."

"You are."

"I am," he agrees easily. "I do not know when I will be ready to depart from Mundus, but I do not think it will be anytime soon. There are, after all, too many books I have not read, and many more yet to be written."

...Ruby likes this guy. He's very sensible.

"Now, let's see, what's next... Oh, this one I am unfamiliar with. 'The Aetherium Wars', is it?

"The library would be happy to purchase the tomes it does not currently have from you. You don't need to accept, of course, and if you do sell them to us you will naturally be permitted to check these books out whenever you wish."

—ooh, money. Yeah, Ruby is perfectly willing to sell these books.

Then after discussing prices Urag writes Ruby a note to present to Mirabelle so that she can pay him for them.

"Now, speaking of library books, I believe you also borrowed a Spell Tome of Conjure Ethereal Horse a few weeks ago?"

"Ah, yes, ah... I'm done with it but I don't actually have it on me, right now. Some... things happened... and I had to leave it with someone in Whiterun as collateral. I'm going to send them a courier to get it back, though."

"Very well.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually. Do you have anything on the, uh, Civil War?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not. Those are events a bit too recent to have made it to any books yet, at least any books that aren't outdated by the following month. I would suggest speaking to that fellow Apprentice of yours, the Nord? He would probably have the necessary context, being a Skyrim native."

"Fair enough. Then no, that was all, thank you."

"You are most welcome, young man."

It's about lunch time, so Ruby decides he'll have lunch with the others, catch up and such. When he steps out of Elements he has to pull his hood up—the snow seems to have picked up since he walked out—and he makes a beeline to Acumen.

"You have returned," says J'zargo to him when he and the other two Apprentices—plus someone Ruby hasn't met yet, another Dunmer* like Brelyna—have grabbed their food and joined him at the table. "J'zargo had begun to wonder if you had fled once it became clear to you that J'zargo would surpass you in all things."

(* Also known as dark elf, one of the many types of mer/elf.)

"Not everything is a competition, you know," Brelyna says, taking a seat next to him.

"Ah, but you are wrong. The only reason you could disagree is because you are losing so badly you cannot see it."

Ruby rolls his eyes fondly. "It's good to see you too, J'zargo." Then, to the new person: "Hi! I'm Ruby, one of the Apprentices here."

"Myrvana Giladren, prospective Apprentice. Nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, does my fame precede me?"

"Oh, yes, it's quite romantic isn't it? Mysteriously appearing in the sea with no memory of your past, an uncommonly strong affinity for magic and for the College in particular, if I were to guess what happens next in this book it would involve assassins from your shadowed past or maybe something more mystical, perhaps the unexplained interest of a Daedric Prince..."

Onmund chokes on his food and starts coughing.

Wow. Subtle.

"So what genre would you guess for that story?"

"Well, depends on the next chapter, right? If it's the assassins then it could be political intrigue or a murder mystery, if interesting things happen to you when you go out to do things then maybe it's an epic adventure or an ascension quest... And of course maybe we're halfway into the story already and it's something else and the amnesia is just a subplot."

"Imagine in the next chapter the Daedric Prince of Hedonism, Sanguine, takes an interest in me and sends me on a wild goose chase all around Skyrim just for his own amusement and then gives me a powerful magical reward and promises to watch me in the future, and in the course of all of that I find a beacon of Meridia, Daedric Prince of Life, and she commands me to go to her temple in Mount Kilkreath to cleanse it of a darkness that has seeped within. What's the genre?"

She grimaces. "The genre is bad writing. You can't add that many things to your story, you'll lose the main plot thread and confuse your audience. Don't do that, you need to pace the story not just throw a bunch of things in."

"Real life often has a bunch of things thrown in," he observes.

"Oh, sure, but in real life your amnesia probably has a more mundane explanation, like, you got into a fight with some mage that didn't like you or something."

"Mm." He reaches into one of the pouches attached to his waist and draws the staff Sanguine gave him. It's nearly as tall as he is, green along its length and ending in a rose at the tip, carved from wood. "So, Onmund, this is the staff Sanguine gave me that I mentioned, do you want to see the Dremora?"

"The fuck?"

Onmund shakes his head. "You're so dramatic. ...but yes."

So he sends a pulse of magicka into the staff, forms an intent, casts—

The Dremora is a tall horned pointy-eared humanoid with dark skin and red markings on his (its?) face. His legs are encased up to the thighs in long metal greaves, his arms are covered up to the biceps by spiky metal gauntlets, his shoulder and upper chest are covered by an elaborate metal set of pauldrons, but his torso is mostly exposed, covered only by a thin strip of metal that goes from the center of his crotch up to his chest, opening into a cleavage window. There are two bands of thin metal wire encircling his waist and connecting the different pieces of the "armour" to each other and to a... cock ring? Cock sleeve? A metal cyllinder surrounding the man's shaft, leaving the head of his penis exposed. Attached to his back is a two-handed broadsword.

Dremora

He doesn't talk, though, and doesn't attack or... do much of anything else. He just stands there, not doing anything.

"Getting information out of it is like pulling teeth. I've determined it prefers being called 'it' and that at this power level they do not prefer to be thought of as being individuals. I meant to see if I could find a book on Dremora culture and psychology but I forgot to do so earlier." And then he dismisses it, making it vanish.

"...okay, I will grant you that that's very hard to fake."

"J'zargo does not understand. Your story was true?"

"Yeah."

"...huh," says Myrvana. "Okay, cool, definitely write an autobiography later, people will eat this up. ...but pace it better, two Daedric Princes at once is still a bit much."

"Okay but now I'm curious, what exactly happened? Weren't you just out to deliver something for Sergius?"

"Funny you should mention that, I still haven't managed to make the delivery. I stopped at The Frozen Hearth before setting off and there was this girl called Sam Guevenne there..."

When they step outside Acumen again the snow's gotten worse, and despite the temperature barriers the wind and snow are still physically present and they all hurry to Elements for the afternoon's lecture on potentialising conjured construct bodies. Which is a class taught by Phinis Gestor but Ruby's long since gotten over his instinctive flinch reaction to the man.

By the evening, the snow is blowing hard enough to be called a proper snow storm, and even the passive weather wards of the College aren't enough to fully shelter them from the cold. The Apprentices decide to just grab some food from Acumen and eat back in their own rooms in Attainment.

Ruby follows Onmund into his room, as he used to do a few times before his trip, and sits cross-legged on Onmund's bed.

"So, tell me about the Civil War."

"...you don't pick easy topics, huh? What sparked the curiosity?"

"Well... do you know the Valtheim Towers?"

"No?"

"They're this fort that's right between Whiterun Hold and Eastmarch, like at the very border, on the main road, and Whiterun and Windhelm have both withdrawn most of their troops enough that the fort was taken by bandits who are now charging extortionate amounts from people wanting to cross. And I'm livid at all involved but at least the people who are having a civil war might have a good enough reason for it.

"So I want to know what it could be."

"Ah."

"I should open with the caveat that I am not that well-informed about it."

"That's okay, I just—I trust you to not be willfully biased as I expect most other people to be."

Oh. That's flattering and he melts a little bit.

He takes a seat next to Ruby and begins.

"You've already read up on the Thalmor, right?"

"Yeah."

"They're—horrible. They have officers roam the land to kill people for worshipping Talos—"

"—they what?"

"I don't think they're meant to, I think they're just meant to arrest, but..." Shrug. "I'd guess the Empire can't afford to pick that fight or something."

Add one more group to the list of people Ruby needs to deal with then.

"And the jarl of Windhelm decided that was enough and started a rebellion to free Skyrim from the Empire so that we would not be subjected to the treaty with the Thalmor."

"That is actually a very good reason for a rebellion."

"Yeah. ...also he killed the High King, he's been saying the Empire weakens Skyrim and to prove that he challenged the High King to a duel and killed him. The rumours say that he Shouted him to death."

"...oh huh look, mysterious memory unlocked."

"—really? What is it?"

"About what Shouts are."

"Oh. Well I'm curious now, I don't really know what they are, there's just legends them and the Dragonborn—do you have memories about that?"

He nods. "Shouts, also called Thu'um, are phrases in the language of dragons, which is inherently magical; imbuing those phrases with intent makes them affect the world. They take years to learn. And the Dragonborn is supposedly a mortal with a dragon soul who can learn them instinctively just like dragons can."

"Could. They're all dead. And no Dragonborn has been seen in hundreds of years."

"—that I did not know. That they're all dead, that is."

"There was a great war, I don't trust the songs about how it went but purportedly mortals rebelled against dragon rule and killed them all."

"Huh."

"...anyway, isn't killing the High King and starting a civil war very destabilising by itself and wouldn't that weaken Skyrim, too?"

...he hadn't really thought of it that way. "I guess? But Ulfric Stormcloak must've thought it was worth it, to get rid of the Thalmor."

"Hmm. I suppose.

"Anyway, I'm planning on retaking the Towers."

He splutters. "You what?"

"Mages are powerful and scary and I'm very mad about the Towers."

"Sure but you're just an Apprentice. You'll get killed."

"I won't do it right now. I plan to deliver that sword for Sergius then return to the College to learn more and become stronger. I'm not gonna go into it blind. But when I know more I'll go to Whiterun and ask the jarl for men to retake the fort and then I'm gonna do it."

"...I suppose that's not inherently doomed."

"Yeah. So I'll leave tomorrow, with an Ethereal Horse I should be back within a week and a half if no more Daedric Princes try to mess with me, and then I'll... study a lot."

Onmund snorts. "—are you planning to do anything about Meridia?"

"No. Going to a temple across Skyrim to fight off a deep darkness that's probably a powerful necromancer or vampire is not my idea of a good time."

The next morning, however, the snowstorm is still going strong. His College robes and spells would definitely not be enough to ride in it.

Hm. Alright. He supposes he may as well stay in and study.

The snowstorm doesn't abate by the next morning. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next.

...this is getting ridiculous. How long can a snowstorm last?

"Up to a few weeks," says Tolfdir absentmindedly. "The autumn snowstorm tends to be pretty long."

Man, what the fuck. It's no wonder you can barely find couriers from Winterhold. He still hasn't managed to send Ysolda her ring back. He might need to make that delivery personally.

And he still hasn't delivered that gods damned enchanted sword.

You know what, fuck it. He will find the thickest fur coat and boots and gloves he can, he's sure Winterhold will have those, and use Wolfskin on top of that, and hope he doesn't die of hypothermia. He is delivering that sword.

This was a terrible idea.

It's cold, it's unreasonably cold, he's in as many layers as he physically can be in while still being able to ride a horse and it's still cold, the only bits of his skin showing are around his eyes and he has Wolfskin up and he has Soothe up and it's still really fucking cold.

But he can't go back. He just can't. If he goes back he will be unable to go again, even after the snowstorm is done he will be too traumatised by the cold but most importantly he just cannot go back. He will deliver this stupid sword.

He stops three times a day, dismisses his horse, and summons a Flame Atronach. Then he just hangs out around it plus some fire he conjures to heat back up. That's how he's doing this. He rides until he can't ride and then he summons a Daedroth made of fire and he survives.

With all the stops it takes a full week. He doesn't stop at Dawnstar because the detour would be too long, so Stonehills is the first settlement he sees after leaving Winterhold and he wants to cry. He speeds up, heedless of the wind, and when he gets to the town and sees the huge campire right in the middle of it he dismisses his horse, runs up to it, and sits down in front of it to bask in its warmth.

It's better than a Flame Atronach. Or at least, it's better than a Flame Atronach Ruby can summon.

"Hey, uh, do you want to come to the inn instead?" asks someone.

Who is, now that Ruby's paying attention, the only someone around. The village was entirely empty and in hindsight it's obvious that everyone would be inside.

"Yeah. Thanks." He gets up to follow them.

"Yeah, no problem. It's up that hill." They point and start leading the way. "You on your way to Dawnstar or Morthal?"

He shakes his head. "Neither. I'm here to deliver an enchanted sword to someone named Gretolde."

"...Gretolde ordered an enchanted sword from the College?"

Oh right there's that confusion again: why would someone from a tiny mining village want an enchanted sword? "That's the name I was given."

"Strange."

"Is she very unlikely to order a sword?"

"I mean, yeah, why would anyone who's not a warrior or an adventurer want a sword? And she has a child, so she wouldn't be going out adventuring."

"Hmm. Well, I guess I'll ask her?"

"Yeah. I can point you to her house, but uh, in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah, thank you."

So they lead him to the inn, which is toasty and cosy and has a fun bard and warm food and warm drinks and a warm bed.

He sleeps in, because he hasn't been sleeping well at all in the wilderness, and when he wakes up the snowstorm has been reduced to a snow shower.

Figures.

When he steps out of the inn he finds a much more lively village than the one he found last night. There's still enough snowfall that no one's staying out and about but people are going from building to building and into the mine and hanging out in porches talking to each other.

A Nord woman answers the door when Ruby knocks and says, "May I help you?"

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm Ruby, from the College of Winterhold; I have an enchanted sword I've been told to deliver to you?"

"...from the College? Oh, Adara." She sighs. "I'm really sorry, you wasted your trip, I didn't order that. And I'll need to have words with my daughter."

...did he just. Spend a week. In the snow. On a child's prank.

"I understand, ma'am," he says, trying to stay neutral and not let his annoyance show. That punk. "I'll get off your hair, then. Have a good day."

"You, too. Once again, I'm sorry for my daughter, I'll make sure she doesn't do this again."

Sigh.

Well. He now has a trip back which at least won't be in a snowstorm and then he'll have to tell Sergius about it.

Off he goes.

Before he's past the limits of the village, though, a child—no, not a child, a teenager—suddenly appears in front of him. "Is it you? The wizard from Winterhold? Did you come here to deliver the sword?"

"...you must be Adara."

"Yes! Please, you have to take me with you!"

"—what?"

"Mother doesn't understand, no one does, but I must be a wizard!"

...ah. The pieces fall into place.

"Is there a reason you need someone from the College? Could you not just... go?"

"Mother wouldn't let me, and no one else in the village would, either. I would have to walk to Morthal on my own, or to Dawnstar, which is even farther away, with no money to my name—Mother said if I wanted to go I would have to figure it out myself, so—" She straightens up and looks him in the eye. "So I'm figuring it out."

"...I see.

"I... I cannot really take you in the dead of night or anything like that, the villagers would rightly suspect I'd kidnapped you."

"...well, what would you have me do?"

"Why does your mother not want you to go to the College?"

She looks at him like he's stupid. "Because she's a Nord. You know how Nords are about magic. And she tries to keep the fact that I can do magic under wraps and pretends that it'll go away but it won't go away..."

"—you can already do magic?"

She nods. "Don't ask me how, I just... it just happens. If I get mad or, any strong emotion, really, it kinda..."

"...that's dangerous. If you can do magic accidentally that is incredibly dangerous. You need training to control it."

"Well, try telling my mother that."

"Yeah, I in fact will."

"—really?"

"I think you underestimate how dangerous an uncontrolled mage can be," he says, flashbacks of Morvunskar going through his head. "And I do not want you to turn Stonehills into a crater or your own personal army of zombies."

"—I would never."

"You wouldn't, but whatever person you turned into if you got sufficiently out of control with your magic might.

"Anyway, we're in agreement; I'll convince your mother and take you to Winterhold."

"...okay. Thanks."

She looks... perhaps slightly less enthused than she was a moment ago.

Yeah.

Back to her house, then.

"Yes? —oh. I see she's gotten to you." Gretolde folds her arms. "And I assume you're here to try to convince me to let her be, be some sort of, of..."

"Wizard, yes."

"Well, I won't let her."

"But mom—"

"No buts! I won't have you become the talk of the town as some, some freak, it was bad enough with your father—"

"I'm already a freak, mom, don't you see? You're just trying to pretend—"

"I'm not listening to this any more, young lady, this topic is over."

The teenager stomps on the ground and screams...

...causing an eight-foot tall ice construct to appear out of thin air.

Holy shit.

Ruby's already summoning a Flame Atronach in one hand and summoning a flame in the other.

The Frost Atronach ignores the girl and her mother and immediately beelines for Ruby himself, as the biggest threat around. When Ruby's own Daedroth gets in its way, it starts pummeling it.

That's okay, Ruby's Atronach can take a bit of a beating, and between it and him with the fire they can distract the Frost Atronach enough it won't attack other people.

Like most fights, it is short, and without its summoner actively directing it the ice construct has absolutely nothing in the way of tactics, so it goes down easily, but... Ruby does not like the prospect of what would have happened here had he not been around.

And of course, any hopes of keeping this under wraps have just evaporated. A lot of the villagers screamed and fled when they saw the fight, except for a couple of guards who looked like they wanted to scream and flee but instead stood by in case Ruby hadn't been enough.

Adara and her mother both emerge from where they'd been cowering behind some boxes, the former looking resolute and the latter terrified. "Do you see, Mother?" And, actually, she looks to be on the verge of tears. "I can't control it! I'm already a freak, and if I don't learn, something bad will happen! It could've happened!"

"I—but my child—"

"Ma'am, that was a relatively small-scale spell," Ruby murmurs, and Gretolde blanches at the idea that that was small. "Adara's magicka reserves will grow with time, and if she receives no instruction she will become more and more dangerous, to herself and to others. And the danger to herself is spiritual, too, because using magic without control can damage the soul and chip away at her very being. Your child is very gifted, and I believe it is of paramount importance that she receive instruction on how to use her gift for good as soon as possible."

Gretolde bursts into tears.

"Oh, Mother..." says Adara, and she wraps her arms around her mother.

"Adara, I don't want to be alone. I miss your father every minute of every day, and I can't lose you too."

"Mom... mom you're not losing me, Winterhold is just, just a few days away..."

Yeah okay he should not be here for this part. He quietly slips away to let them talk.

"On behalf of Stonehills, thank you for dealing with that creature," one of the guards walks up to him to say, sounding a bit stiff.

Probably thinks Ruby's just as bad for having summoned an Atronach of his own. "You don't need to thank me. It could've caused a lot of damage and hurt a lot of people, I'm glad I could prevent that."

"...right. Uh. Is... is Adara going to be going to Winterhold with you, then?" He shuffles his feet a bit. "We all knew. Gretolde tried to hide it but... we knew. We saw the small things she'd do, sometimes, especially when she was small. We thought... maybe she'd grow past it..."

Ruby shakes his head. "She can't. She'll only grow more powerful. The safest thing for her and for Stonehills is for her to come to the College. Once she can control her magic, she'll be able to return here and live a normal life, if she so wishes."

And what's left unsaid is that she's unlikely to wish it. Wizard or no, Stonehills isn't really the kind of place one returns to, after leaving. Some people enjoy the quiet, the calm, but...

"Will you take good care of her? At the College."

"I'm just an Apprentice, myself, but... she'll be in good hands. And she's a resourceful young lady, ordering an enchanted item using her mother's name was quite clever. Believe in her."

That... does cheer him up. "I will. Thank you."

"It's what I'm here for."

Gretolde and Adara have their heart to heart. Gretolde is finally honest about her thoughts and feelings and has a real conversation with Adara instead of just treating her like an unruly child. Adara for her part admits she has been acting like an unruly child but didn't know how else to get what she wanted. They take a while, and Adara asks Ruby for some more time in order to say goodbye to everyone and get ready to go, since she's no longer stealing away in the dead of night.

Yeah, sure. Might work better, even, if the storm has more time to subside further.

It does. They decide to wait until the next morning, and by then there is no snowfall at all, only the normal biting cold wind of northern Skyrim.

"Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"Um... a bit...?"

"You don't need to be a professional horse racer, I'll conjure magic horses for both of us and they're stabler and much more well-behaved than regular horses, I just want to know if you can sit on the horse and not immediately fall."

Her eyes light up when he mentions conjuring a magic horse and she's nodding enthusiastically by the time he's done. "Yes! I can do that!"

"Alright, then let's set off."

He doesn't conjure the horses in the village proper since he doesn't want to make the villagers nervous, but once they're past the village limits he summons two of the ghostly seeds.

"I want to learn how to do that," she says immediately.

"Unfortunately I did not bring a Spell Tome for it," Ruby says, helping Adara attach her stuff to her horse's saddle. "But you can borrow one from the College library once you're there. You can already conjure a more powerful Atronach than mine, it should be easy enough for you."

She can't manage to hold back a squeal, and once the saddle is properly adjusted she pulls herself onto the horse. She looks like she's vibrating on her seat.

Ruby grins fondly but then once Adara is ready to go he starts leading the way.

"We're going to take the main road to Dawnstar," he explains, "but the old road that goes from there directly to Winterhold hasn't been maintained so we'll need to take the road that goes south around the mountains. It'll be three days to Dawnstar and then about a week and change to Winterhold."

Map of the Trip

"...that's a long time."

"The old road to Winterhold would've been four days instead but you said yourself that you're not very good at riding so I don't want us to try to brave the wilderness."

"That's... fair." But she's pouting a little bit.

"...you're excited to get to the College and start learning."

"Of course I'm excited! I've wanted this all my life!"

"If you've waited that long you can handle a few more days."

...grumble grumble pout.

Poor impatient teenager.

Anywho, they ride.

The ride to Dawnstar is mostly uneventful. They're attacked by Ice Wraiths at one point but a Flame Atronach and some more fire are enough to dispatch those. Ruby's tent isn't actually large enough for two to be comfortable but they don't need to be comfortable, they just need to sleep. Ruby has Adara help collect wood for their campfires, and though she whines throughout she doesn't refuse. To try to appease her, he explains to her how to create a flame to help with that, and afterwards she becomes the most excited about campfires, mostly so she can magic them to life, which is very cute. He also starts teaching her the basic Alarm spell to set around camp so they're woken up in case anything crosses it (which does happen a lot—if nothing else sometimes snow hares do it, but it is sometimes the case that they have to dispatch a wolf or three), but that one requires a lot of control and she doesn't get the gist of it by the time they get to their destination.

Dawnstar is what a proper hold capital in northern Skyrim should be like: large, with fortified highly-insulated buildings and a proper port. And most importantly, it is not in ruins, so it really beats Winterhold. When they walk into the inn, however, it seems there's a small commotion happening around a dark elf in priestly robes.

"...has to be! How long has it been?" says a Nord woman.

"Irgnir, get a hold of yourself," says another. "They're just dreams. Please tell her, Erandur."

"Listen to Fruki, Irgnir," says the elf, trying to be appeasing. "You will not be harmed by dreams."

"Maybe not the dreams, but I can't sleep. And it's not just me, and you know it. The whole town, everyone is having these constant nightmares."

"I do know it, but there is nothing to be done about them. I have beseeched Mara for aid; put your trust in her, and continue to pray."

"Pray, is what you say, pray... I, I know you're right, but..."

"Irgnir, hold on to your faith," says the innkeep. "It's hard, it's hard for all of us, but these nightmares won't last forever."

"But she does have a point, it's been weeks and it's affecting everyone," says the second woman. "We're so tired, and it frays everyone's nerves, our work gets sloppier—Voltham nearly fell down the mine shaft two days ago—"

"I'm looking into it," says the one named Erandur. "I promise I will find a solution."

...Myrvana would give him a look, and Ruby is really starting to see her point. Maybe the issue is just that he's an inveterate meddler.

Once the crowd has dispersed he walks up to the elf. "Excuse me."

"Yes, my son?"

"I overheard the conversation just now..."

"You are not from Dawnstar? I would urge you to move on as soon as you can; Dawnstar is not a good place to be, right now."

"Because everyone is having nightmares, yeah?"

"Indeed. If you can, you should deal with whatever business you have in Dawnstar quickly."

...Erandur knows more about this than he's letting on.

"And I don't suppose whatever problem is happening here is one that would benefit from the help of a mage from Winterhold?" he says, lowering his voice.

Not enough that Adara doesn't hear it, though, and she perks right up and huddles closer.

"...perhaps," says Erandur, also lowering his voice. "If you would come with me?"

Ruby and Adara follow him to the room Erandur is renting and he closes the door behind them and then casts a muffling charm on the door.

"The dreams are caused by the Daedric Lord of Nightmares and Torment, Vaermina."

Okay this is in fact getting ridiculous. Three? How many Daedric Lords even are there. How are so many of them doing things around Ruby.

Maybe it isn't weird. Maybe Daedric Lords are just doing things to everyone all over everywhere and this is a normal sample.

...Myrvana seemed to disagree.

Yeah, he has no idea, what the fuck.

Okay, he shouldn't be so self-centered, Vaermina was doing its thing to Dawnstar long before Ruby arrived, it just so happened that Ruby ran into it.

"She feeds on the memories of mortals, and leaves these nightmares in her wake. It has not been so long that she has damaged the people, but it soon will be, if nothing is done about it."

"Why is she doing that here?" wonders Adara.

"Because of an old temple close to the city that was devoted to her—Nightcaller Temple. It has long since been abandoned, but I suspect it houses an ancient artefact of hers and that it has grown hungry over the years."

"So, go to temple, destroy artefact, sounds easy, which it must not be or you would have done it already."

"Indeed. The temple has... protections, which are not easily overcome. I have set up a shrine to Mara in the entrance hall, and beseeched her for her aid; perhaps the two of you are that aid."

"Adara is not coming."

"Yes I am!"

"You are not."

"You're not my mother."

"No, but I promised to deliver you safely to the College, and I cannot fulfill that promise if you die fighting whatever protections a temple to a Daedric Lord will have."

"Well, what if you die?"

"I can protect myself better than I can protect the both of us, and I have more experience with these matters. Besides, you've seen what happens when you get agitated; that Frost Atronach did not, particularly, seem to consider me an ally."

"But..." But she doesn't have a rebuttal, and after a while of chewing her lip she looks away. "...fine."

"You'll have plenty of opportunities to become the mage adventuress of your dreams. After you can make sure your magic won't hurt your allies."

"So you do wish to help?"

"Yes. You'll need to tell me whatever it is you're still hiding for me to help effectively but that can wait until the morning."

"...very well."

So the next morning they can make their way to the temple, Ruby on a conjured horse and Erandur on a real one that he owns.

"So, what were the missing details?"

He sighs.

"The temple hasn't been abandoned. Its members started stealing the memories of a group of orc raiders, decades ago, and they invaded it in retaliation; when it became clear to the cultists they would lose, they released a powerful magic gas called the Miasma, which put everyone in the tower to sleep and magically sealed most of it off. I expect that once we unseal it, the Miasma will dissipate, and all of them will wake up."

"Wait, decades? I guess if all of them were elves, but then wouldn't they die of hunger?"

"The Miasma prevents aging—or rather, it keeps the people affected in a state of near-stasis, immune to most of the ravages of time."

"'Most'."

"Yes. The soul isn't meant to be in stasis for decades, and unless one's soul is unusually resilient, they can become severely damaged, sometimes entirely losing their mind. Sometimes even dying."

"...ah. So, not unlike the types of mages that tend to take over forts."

"—indeed not. You have experience with that?"

"Some. There was a fort near Windhelm called Morvunskar which I, ah, liberated from a group of necromancers."

"On your own? Perhaps the goddess did send you in answer to my prayers."

Man if so that's. That's too many. Too many spirits from outside Mundus taking an interest in him.

"How do you know all this?"

"I have dealt with this group of cultists before, and have witnessed their practices."

Right. Elves. "Decades" doesn't mean much.

The temple is a tower overlooking Dawnstar from the east on a mountaintop. After dispatching an Ice Wraith that had made its home there and checking that there aren't any other surprises around they walk into the temple.

And as soon as they do, there is a moment of distortion, a feeling of dizziness as a wash of magic covers them—

—and all of their equipment disappears. Their clothing, the mace Erandur had been carrying, their enchanted jewellery, their extended pouches.

All of it—except, that is, for the Sanguine Rose, the staff Sanguine gave Ruby.

He starts swearing profusely.

"...this is not a security measure I'm familiar with," Erandur says, after he's recovered his balance and is looking around. "It's ingenious, stripping invaders of their equipment, but I have no idea how it could be accomplished."

"...no, I think that's, uh. That's not a security measure. That's a prank."

"How do you mean?"

Ruby leans over to grab the staff and sigh. "My turn to disclose some not exactly secrets: the Daedric Prince of Hedonism, Sanguine, has taken a liking to me, and has said that he wanted to see what I'd do, in the future. This—" Gesture at staff. "—is a staff he gave me. I am starting to rethink my life choices, here."

"—you're a cultist."

"—no! Absolutely not. Sanguine's, like, a cool guy, I guess, but I am not a cultist. She just... thinks I'm hot, I guess."

"The Daedric Prince of Hedonism... thinks you're hot. In my experience, drawing the attention of Daedra Lords is not wise."

"I didn't have much of a choice, honestly, he sent me on a merry chase around Skyrim and then decided she was going to keep me."

"You chose to bring that staff with you."

"—fair enough. But it's a really good staff." Here's the Dremora—or a Dremora, it doesn't look identical to the last one he summoned even if it's in identical armour and has identical facepaint, but they have in fact told him that they don't like being seen as individuals so he'll do his best to just think of it as the same entity as the previous times he's summoned them.

"...I suppose having a physical combatant like that is not an advantage to be ignored. Though I am not sure it is worth the price, if all of your equipment is gone."

"I... expect it's not gone, gone? It wouldn't be Sanguine's style. He'd have a lark about us misplacing our stuff but my expectation is that we'll get it all back once we're done here. And she knows most of my firepower is independent of my equipment, anyway."

"Very well. I hope you're right."

He advances, and this entry hall looks very much like a church, even if one dedicated to a Daedric Prince: there are pews before an altar, a graven image of the Daedroth behind it, the whole shebang. And there is indeed a small shrine to Mara next to a wall with some offerings and her holy text.

But also there don't seem to be any doors or stairs to anywhere.

Presumably the seal also placed an illusion or something. Ruby will just explore this chamber and wait for Erandur to do his thing.

Indeed. Erandur starts casting some complicated magic on the graven image, and seems wholly engrossed in this for a while.

Ruby dismisses the Dremora, then, since it seems like this will take a bit. Which makes sense, a seal you could just unmake over a few minutes is basically useless.

...which brings the question of how Erandur can do it at all. It doesn't seem like he's brute forcing it or trying to do the magic equivalent of hitting it with a battering ram, so that's curious. Ruby has a little hypothesis here and depending on which half of the hypothesis is true he might just be in a lot of trouble.

He hopes not.

"It is done," says Erandur at the same time as the graven image—and the wall behind it—suddenly turn translucid and, as demonstrated by Erandur walking through them, intangible. "Be on your guard; if my guess is right, the more the Miasma seeps out of the temple the more people will wake."

"The Miasma" is probably the low-hanging purple mist that seems to permeate the place and that is, indeed, seeping through the no-longer-solid wall. Ruby resummons the Dremora, casts Stoneflesh on himself, then conjures a bow and a quiver of arrows—he found out recently, while hunting in the wilderness, that he's passable at it, probably courtesy of his past life, and this here seems like a good opportunity to practise more. The staff he holds Telekinetically; if he's not doing anything particularly complicated with it he can just make it hover after him at a fixed distance while paying barely any mind to it.

They're in a hallway that seems to form a spiral around the center of the tower. To their left there are stairs going up, but Erandur goes right instead, and the path consists of flat landings followed by stairs going down. The wall between them and the hollow inside of the tower is broken by grates that permit one to look into it and down a couple of stories, where they can see a circular chamber with a tall altar. On this altar there is—something—protected by a circular energy field, and Erandur points it out to Ruby. "I believe that is the artefact I mentioned, the Skull of Corruption. If we can reach it, I will be able to disable the wards around it and destroy it."

Will you, now. You continue to know a suspicious amount about these people.

Nevertheless, there's no point in remarking on it; if Erandur turns hostile Ruby will deal with it then. For now he'll instruct his Dremora to scout ahead, since it's going to be their tank for the likely coming fights.

They advance slowly, counterclockwise, past a few doors to their right that presumably lead to the various rooms that probably line the walls of the tower.

After walking a little bit, they see two orcs sitting on the floor, looking groggy and confused.

And naked. It seems that they have also not been spared Sanguine's prank.

"...oh, of course it affected everyone in the temple. You know, I bet Sanguine would love it if we could solve this with less fighting and more fucking."

The orcs hear him and immediately jump to their feet, trying to get to attention despite their grogginess. "We mean you no harm," Erandur says, but it's no good; they don't even say anything, they merely attack.

With their bare fists. And no armour. And no magic. Which means the Dremora gruesomely slices through them with its greatsword. "Weaklings," it growls.

"Rrright, then," Ruby says, feeling queasy and deciding he will stop looking at the bisected bodies right about now. He did not get any more used to the smell of blood since last time.

At least it's not burnt flesh.

Erandur seems—mostly unaffected by the gore, actually.

"Damn it," he swears after walking past them and noticing that the doorway that continues their path down seems blocked by an energy field not unlike the one surrounding the Skull of Corruption. "...we do not have enough time for me to dismantle this, the cultists and the orcs will all wake if we wait that long."

Ruby walks towards the barrier, gingerly dodging the pooling blood, and hums thoughtfully as he examines it. Then he points at the floor. "Not all of them. Seems like this barrier also traps the Miasma in, so whoever is on the other side will probably not wake. Right?"

"...good observation. Though the grating into the hollow center of the tower would still allow some of it to escape, even if the Miasma is heavy and it would take a while."

"Sure, which means we don't have forever, but we do have at least a while. Unless you have a better idea."

"Well, there is... one possibility."

"From your hesitation I take it that it's not an obvious unalloyed improvement over the time-consuming solution."

"It is not," he admits. "There exists a concoction called Vaermina's Torpor which can be drunk to inhabit someone else's memories for a time and then synchronise some aspects of it with the physical world. You could use that to use someone's memories of the other side of this barrier and then transport your body there and disable it from the inside."

"Something tells me that that 'you' in those sentences was not a general-you."

He sighs. "No. It uses Vaermina's magic as a key component, and so it does not work on anyone who follows another; in fact, it would be actively poisonous. And since I follow Mara, I cannot safely drink it."

"You realise how this sounds, right? Especially given that—well, you seem to know rather a lot about this place."

"Yes. I suppose there's no use in hiding it. I used to be one of the cultists here, decades ago. I fled at the time of the attacks and have spent the time since then trying to atone for my sins. Mara herself sent me back here, when the nightmares started, and I believe it to be her plan for me to undo these wrongs."

"Orrrr, and don't get me wrong, you sound like a swell guy, but we've just met, and for all I know you are still a priest of Vaermina and you just want my help with waking the others."

"...yes, I suppose that's a reasonable conclusion."

And just then, the sounds of fighting begin to be heard from upstairs.

"—seems like some of your erstwhile colleagues and orcs have woken up," says Ruby. "Let's go check on them."

And without waiting for Erandur, he starts making his way back up and towards one of the doors to the side rooms. The closest one seems to be barred from the other side but the next one opens.

Erandur follows, of course. He is not, in fact, still a priest of Vaermina, and he does wish to help Ruby.

The door they walk through seems to lead to a set of suspended walkways which rest atop stone pillars in what used to be a library and is now the ruins of one. The central pillar hosts a large circular platform that seems to have a mystic altar of some sort, and a mage and an orc are having a fight there.

Downstairs, small groups of fighters are duking it out. It seems that the main reason why the orcs haven't entirely lost is that they do have some mages of their own who are kitting the physical combatants out with magical shields and conjured arms. A few corpses are also visible—some looking like they just never woke from their slumbers while others look more recent.

"A feast!" declares the Dremora before immediately jumping into the fray.

"I should have predicted this. Dremora, please don't kill the Orsimer fighting cultists unless they attack you first!" Ruby calls.

"...I will obey," it calls back sounding disgruntled, its greatsword making short work of the surprised mage. Thankfully for it, the Orsimer the mage had been fighting does attack it so it can have its fun.

Ruby sighs and starts using Vaermina cultists as target practice for his archery skills.

(Is it better for him to think about it this way? Is he nudging along his journey towards becoming inured to murder?)

Erandur... doesn't help. Not with the "taking out people" part. But when some of the cultists realise what's happening and start trying to take Ruby out, Erandur casts protections and heals on him to keep him alive.

Ruby's pain tolerance really is getting trained up, here though honestly after the giant he thinks nothing can faze him again. Still, the fight ends quickly enough; none of the orc raiders seems to have kept their mind, and they all attack indiscriminately—sometimes even their own people.