Chapter Text
Is this what I’ve been reduced to?
“The Arch-Mage is indisposed right now. Come back later. Much later, if you please.”
Years of service, impeccable breeding, selective bloodline, carefully constructed connections in the court—
“Do you hear me? I said come back later!”
High arcane prowess, excellent results in every aptitude test—
“...Are you going to keep standing there?”
And here I am, standing in front of this downtrodden, filthy, forgotten, backwater of a College.
“Hey!”
Listening to the drivel of this– this–
“Are you hard of hearing!?”
“Enough,” I scowl, the sheer fact that I have to stoop to conversing with this human being enough to make me consider bearing the shame of petitioning the Ambassador for a different posting. Again. “Step aside, or I will consider this an obstruction of the clauses in the White-Gold Concordat.”
The human’s eyes bulge far beyond what should be possible for any living mortal, and it’s enough to make me waver pause for a second.
“We’re not subject to your clauses!” she shrills, taking a step closer in what seems to be an attempt at threat. I eye the imposing foot invading my space. Repulsive. “You can’t intimidate the members of the College with your Thalmor diplomacy! You will not enter until the Arch-Mage permits it!”
Ugh. Even the cold is abominable here, dry, sharp, and utterly unbearable despite the layers of warming enchantments I’ve meticulously inlaid into my robes. I start walking. The Breton stumbles back, another outraged screech leaving her before she scrambles to match my steps.
“STOP! HOW DARE YOU–”
They couldn’t even bother repairing the bridge.
What a joke.
As I make my way into the dilapidated courtyard, some fools stare with wide eyes, but no one dares to intervene, demonstrating an astonishing spark of intelligence.
The place is abysmally small, and it is no great task to spot the main tower.
Predictable, considering Skyrim and the infinitesimal value its primitive residents put into the Arcane Arts.
The reminder only sours my mood further.
The doors – wooden, battered, old and ugly just like everything else – make a small chiming sound as the insolent human casts a pitiful Lock on it amidst her irritating verbal regurgitation.
The wood groan only for a second against my Unlock before a simple Telekinesis allows me to open it.
I enter.
There is a spare moment to scan my environs, allowing me to catch onto an iron-gated chamber – wherein the fools I assume to be the novices were gawking – before I take notice of a… girl standing by the stairs to my right.
No. Not a girl. A woman.
She’s staring at me wide-eyed, frozen mid-step with arms wide open in a swing like a child.
A Breton, perhaps shorter than average. The robes look oversized and borrowed on her, with a hood embarrassingly askew that seems like she tugs on it regularly on one side. Her right hand twitches slightly to rise up, mind unconsciously trying to repeat the habit.
To hide her face, it seems.
I could only call her expression… mousy. Scared. Intimidated.
Good. As she should be.
I continue to scan her, receiving the same scrutiny in return.
How amusing.
There is nothing outwardly interesting about her, nor an arcane presence that’s noteworthy.
But.
But there is something—
“YOU CAN’T JUST ENTER AS YOU WISH!”
There is a ringing in my head. I turn and look down at the deranged fool who’s been following me from the start.
Her wrinkly mouth is still moving sharply, still spewing no doubt. I can’t hear it.
As she jumped not a second ago to shriek into my ear.
I…
I will eradicate this place.