Young Falion

• Posted by Cinae February 29, 2016 - 836 views

                                   ‘’ Father, there’s something I need to tell you.’’
         Traylod looked at his youngest son, Falion. He was worried about him. Not that there was anything truly wrong with him. In fact, Falion was quite precocious for a twelve year old. But his son had trouble going to sleep at normal hours, and seemed happiest in a dark room full of books, instead of with other kids. Falion seemed far too quiet, and he had little of the natural Redguard aptitude for the arts of war. Not that there was anything wrong with his son, of course not.
        ‘’ I don’t want to be a warrior, like my brother. I don’t want to be a priest either. I want ... I want to be a mage. And I want to practice . . . conjuration.’’
          Traylod stared at Falion for five seconds unable to believe that his son had suggested such a thing. How had he failed him?
            ‘’ I cannot believe a son of mine would suggest such a thing. You bring dishonor upon your kin. Do you know what conjurors do? They strip mortals of their souls, traffic in daedra, and raise bodies and bones that ought to lie in rest!’’
            To which Falion only replied, ‘’ Yes.’’  Traylod felt like throwing up his arms.
             ‘’ Haven’t you heard of the Oblivion Crisis?’’
               To which Falion again replied, ‘’ Yes.’’ Maybe there was something wrong with his son.
               ‘’ Doesn’t this tell you anything?’’
                ‘’ The forces of Oblivion are powerful, and in the wrong hands they destroy. But couldn’t we fight fire with fire, couldn’t they be used for good? Maybe if the gates came open again, and if I knew conjuration I could help. I could raise daedra to fight back the ones coming out of the gates. I could be a hero.’’
                Traylod shook his head.
    ‘’ One day I’m going to leave Hammerfell. I’ll go somewhere strange and different. Somewhere with no deserts and lots of snow. I’ll study magic. Cure vampires. I know, Skyrim!’’
              Cure vampires?
          ‘’ I don’t understand you, son.’’
             Falion went to his room, away from the scorching Hammerfell sun, away from those who didn’t understand. He felt certain that his destiny and stars had been mixed up with someone else's. He felt certain that he never should have been born a Redguard.
               The gods must be laughing at me. You’ll see, Malooc . You’ll see, Satakal.
                  Falion raised a fist to the sky. He sat down to read a book on conjuration that he shouldn’t have. He had some soul gems, too. Empty. After all, in order to be filled he would have to cast a soul trap spell.
                He didn’t like to think what someone would do if they saw him casting such a spell.
              Often when he was not participating in the obligatory weapons training, he was doing odd jobs. Fetch this, bring this message.
              What money he earned, he used to barter with foreign traveling traders, such Khajiit, for forbidden books and supplies. They seemed not to have same qualms about conjuration, or several other things for that matter.
             He learned how to bring down the price, so that he would have enough for bribe money, which ensured that they would say nothing about the things that he had bought.
             One day, I’m going to Skyrim. They have a College there. Maybe they’ll accept someone like me. Maybe they’ll tell me it’s not too late to learn.
              So Falion daydreamed about his future, and Traylod dismissed everything his son had said as the foolishness of a child.