The Silver Fox - Arc 1, Chapter 6

• Posted by A-Pocky-Hah! March 12, 2017 - Filed in TSC: CB Story - #TSC:Long  #TheSilverFox  #Elise  - 1,347 views

  
  Elise

   

  24th Last Seed 4E 201

   

  The classroom I was in was a wide semi-circular room with chairs and desks lined up across a pitched floor. There was enough to seat a hundred students though only a small percentage of that number was present.

   

  In front of the class was Tolfdir, the College’s instructor on the school of Alteration. He was giving us a lecture on protection spells.

   

  “As you all know, protection spells are divided into two categories: Ward-type spells and Armor-type spells.” The elderly Nord spoke with a soft and humble tone, but still commanded the attention of all of us in the classroom. Surrounding him was an aura of luminescent light, sparkling and shimmering like the surface of water. “Armor-type spells, like its physical counterpart, reduces the damage taken based on the strength of the spell. Contrary to popular belief, the most powerful Armor-type spell is not always the most practical of choices. All Armor-type spells vary between spell magnitude, magicka cost and duration. It is essential that we—”

   

  I listened intently as I wrote down Tolfdir’s words on my note book. My handwriting was terrible. They were scribbles and short-form words that only I could understand. It doesn’t matter really since I would rewrite them later after class.

   

  Suddenly I heard a snore, much to my displeasure. Given the small number of students in here - sixteen to be exact - it wasn’t hard to tell where the noise was coming from.

   

  I turned around, only to meet with two male students – a Nord and a Khajiit. Both were minding their own business. The Nord was sleeping, his head of black hair resting on the table as drool seeped out from his mouth and onto the wooden oak table. The Khajiit on the other hand was mindlessly cleaning his claws.

   

  “Why aren’t you paying attention?” I asked in an annoyed hushed tone.

   

  The Khajiit looked at me and replied, “J’zargo knows how armor-type spells work. He does not need an old man to teach him what he already knows.” He spoke with an accent all Khajiit were known to have. “When can we start casting spells? This one is anxious to learn the ebonyflesh spell.”

   

  I shot a look at him. “You know that the old man you’re referring to is our teacher.” I reminded him testily. “And it never hurts to learn back something you already know.”

   

  “Ah, but that’s where you are wrong.” The Khajiit pointed out, grinning. “You say that now because you know you will lose to J’zargo.”

   

  Clenching my hands, I ignored his provocation and returned my attention to Tolfdir who was nearing the end of his lecture.

   

  “Alright, that is all for today’s class. And remember students: Not all mage armor spells are the same. Please refer to the book I suggested for more information on protection spells.”

   

  I pulled my chair back and stood up. The screeching sound it made caused the Nord to abruptly woke up from his sleep with a drowsy look, earning a few snickers from the class.

   

  <<<<>>>>

   

  I walked down the Hall of the Elements with my books clutched to my chest. Beside me was Brelyna Maryon, a member of House Telvanni and another first-year student. I met her during the day of our initiation test.

   

  (Yes, apparently there was an initiation test for new students before they could actually study at the college. It was nothing too difficult or dangerous really. All we had to do was find four familiars roaming around Winterhold and cast a spell from each school of magic at them. Pretty simple… except it was frigid cold outside!)

   

  Brelyna was rather shy when I introduced myself to her, but we instantly became good friends due to our similar goals and background.

   

  Both of us wore purple-and-black ‘apprentice’ robes instead of the standard blue-and-tan ‘novice’ robes issued by the College for first-year students. This was because of the recognition we received from well-respected mages – me from Velem R’en and Brelyna from the Telvanni.

   

  “So any plans for the rest of the day, Bre?” I asked.

   

  “Well I have Conjuration class with Phinis Gestor.”

   

  “Oh, Conjuration. Right…”

   

  Brelyna caught the sudden drop in my voice. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about necromancy being a part of Conjuration.”

   

  “Of course I am!” I retorted. I had been angry about the fact since the moment I was informed about it. Necromancy, a legitimate arcane study at the College. Legitimate! “I mean how could they allow such a abhorred art to be practice here?”

   

  “I’m sure, the College has its reasons.” Brelyna said in an attempt to ease my thoughts. “You know, necromancy isn’t always that bad.”

   

  I harrumphed. “Yeah right, just name me one time when necromancy had actually been used for good.”

   

  My friend had become silent, unable to answer. I took that as evidence to my question.

   

  “Precisely, none! Necromancy is evil, regardless of what others say.” I let out a heavy breath. “Sorry about that, Bre. I tend to get too touchy about the subject. No hard feelings right?”

   

  “It’s fine,” The Dunmer replied.

   

  “I’m hungry. What say we head to the Refectorium and get something to eat?”

   

  “Sure. I hope they serve something else other than ash yam stew.”

   

  “I take it that you don’t like ash yam stew?”

   

  Brelyna smiled. “You have no idea.”

   

  Both of us shared a laugh until we were suddenly interrupted by the sharp sound of glass shattering followed by a cry of anger.

   

  “You incompetent fool!” A man cried out. He was a Breton with curly brown hair and wore apprentice robes. Two men in novice robes stood beside him, sharing the same on their faces. “I spent the entire night creating that potion and you ruined it!”

   

  “I’m sorry,” The ‘fool’ apologized. He was a Nord in novice robes — wait, is that the Nord from Tolfdir’s class? Oh Gods help me. “I-I could make it up to you by making a new one.”

   

  “You make a new potion for me?” The Breton laughed. “What could a commoner like you know about alchemy? You’re barely even on par with my skills.”

   

  Commoner. That word was only used in certain parts of Tamriel, mainly in High Rock. The man was from High Rock… and he was of the nobility. Fearful of what might happen – would happen if my intuition was correct – to the Nord, I moved closer towards the scene, dragging Brelyna along by the arm.

   

  “Hey that’s not nice of you to say that.” The Nord replied apprehensively. “Look, why don’t we just forget—”

   

  “Forget? You think I could easily forget about this?” The Breton pointed out at the pool of green liquid and shattered glass between them. He shook his head. “No. Commoners like you should be punished for such incompetence. Jezan, Pate, teach him what happens to those who cause trouble to the nobility.”

   

  On cue, the two lackeys made their move. Jezan, a burly Redguard, grabbed hold of both the Nord’s arms from behind as Pate, a lean Breton, threw a punch at his stomach. The small crowd that had formed around them gasped as the Nord dropped to the ground, coughing.

   

  “I think that should serve as a good reminder for you of this day,” The Breton said, but then he frowned. “Yet somehow I’m still not satisfied.” He moved back-and-forth, pondering until he snapped his fingers at an idea. “I know! How about you’ll be my lab rat for today? Don’t worry, I’ll just cast this harmless illusion spell at you and see what the effects are. It will be fun, I assure you.” Grinning, he readied his spell, his hands glowed a subtle red.

   

  Having watched long enough, I decided to make my presence known. I couldn’t let that Breton – a noble – torment that poor Nord. Shoving my way through the crowd, I stepped forward and shouted, “Stop!”

   

  For a moment there, I thought I wielded a king’s voice. All eyes were fixated towards me. It was quite frightening really, having this much attention, but I did my best to remain unnerved.

   

  The brown-haired Breton turned towards me and cocked an eyebrow. “Elise Desrosiers?”

   

  It was then that I realized who the man was.

   

  “Julien Lavant.” I said with mild contempt.

   

  Julien Lavant was the first son of Lord Bernard of House Lavant of Camlorn. Proud, vain and arrogant were the best words to describe him. He thinks of himself as far superior and treats the people below him as mere servants to be ordered around. Very flamboyant. I can’t believe Father actually set me up with him.

   

  He was the first of the suitors Father had arranged for courtship. Back then, I was a naïve and gullible girl who believed in silly things like love at first sight and charming princes. Julien was a handsome youth of sixteen at that time, full of charm and courtesies. A very fortunate encounter however with one of Julien’s ‘female acquaintances’ revealed a whole different side of him.

   

  It turns out Julien was a womanizer, having already flirted – and even bedded – with the young maids around Camlorn, and that’s not all. What he did to that poor boy on the street – unforgivable! Julien almost had him whipped in public, just because accidentally splashed water on his clothes (it wasn’t even a good pair of clothes to be honest). I did everyone a favor when I sent that familiar chasing after him.

   

  “You look as beautiful as before, Elise.” Julien said with an alluring smile. I wanted to punch that smile off his face, but that would be discourteous of me to do so.

   

  “Save your flattery for someone else, Julien.” I coldly replied.  

   

  His smile turned to a frown. “I see the rose still has thorns. This is truly a surprise. I didn’t expect you to study at the College of Winterhold.”

   

  “The same can be said for you too. Now release the Nord.”

   

  Julien gave a skeptical look. “And why should I let this commoner go?” He asked. “He deserves to be punished for what he did.”

   

  “And what did he do? Break a mere stamina potion?” I retorted, holding back the smug look I had when I saw Julien’s flabbergasted expression. There was no doubt about it. The green liquid on the floor was indeed a stamina potion or a variant of it, and I knew what that meant. I flicked my eye at Julien and slyly asked, “Tell me, Julien, what were you planning on doing with that stamina potion, hmm? Do you still continue your little ‘pastime activity’ even at the College of Winterhold?”

   

  “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Elise.” The Breton stammered as his cheeks flushed red. “Y-you’re just a first-year. You shouldn’t make such accusations about your senior.”

   

  “Oh ho, so you’re a senior student.” I grinned. “That means you’ve been doing this for quite some time now.”

   

  That garnered a few snickers and loud whispers from the crowd as Julien’s cheeks grew redder. They were enjoying this. I was enjoying this. Ah, this brings me back to the times I humiliated my many suitors.

   

  Sadly the amusement was cut short at the rather loud sound of footsteps followed by a voice that instantly put the crowd to silence.

   

  “What’s going on here?” asked a woman clad in deep purple embroidered robes. She was none other than the Master Wizard of the College, Mirabelle Ervine. She wore a stern and hard look that reminded me of a schoolmarm. I noticed that most of the students around me were quavering in fear just at her mere presence. “So, is there anyone here who wish to explain?”

   

  “Julien here was going to cast an untested spell on this man had not I intervened.” I promptly revealed.

   

  The Master Wizard turned toward the accused Breton. “Is this true, Mr. Lavant?”

   

  “N-Yes, Master Wizard. But only because he broke my potion!” He argued. “By law, this commoner deserves to be punished.”

   

  “And what law is that, Mr. Lavant?” Mirabelle asked, her tone dangerously sharp. “This is Skyrim, or more precisely, this is the College of Winterhold. We are not bound by the laws of High Rock and we treat each other here with equal respect. I should also remind you that casting harmful spells on students is strictly prohibited.”

   

  That deflated any pride he had left in him.  

   

  “Now I hope you will improve your behavior this year and forget about this commotion over a broken potion bottle. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Lavant?”

   

  Julien nodded reluctantly. “Yes, Master Wizard.”

   

  “Good.” Mirabelle then snapped at the crowd and said, “Now everyone back to class!”

   

  The crowd dispersed as quickly as a flock of crows along with a grousing Julien and his two lackeys.

   

  “I swear that one of these days that young man is going to get kicked out of this College.” Mirabelle muttered.

   

  I walked toward the Nord whom I just saved and offered him a hand. “You okay?” I asked.

   

  “Y-yeah,” The Nord replied as he accepted my hand and lifted himself up. “I could’ve handled them by myself, you know.”

   

  “Really now?” I teased a smile. “Then I guess I should’ve let Julien cast his spell on you then.”

   

  That quickly turned him around. “On second thought, I actually really appreciated the help back there. I’m Onmund by the way.”

   

  “Elise, of House Desrosiers.” I then gestured my hand to the Dunmer beside me. “And this here is Brelyna Maryon of House Telvanni.”

   

  “Hello,” The aforementioned Dunmer waved a hand in greeting. “Aren’t you the Nord who slept during Tolfdir’s class?”

   

  “Heh, yeah, that’s me.” Onmund looked down as he scratched the back of his head. “Look, I gotta go now. Thanks again for the help.”

   

  “That was quite brave of you, Ms. Desrosiers,” Mirabelle complimented me as she saw Onmund leave. “Not many – especially first-year students – would boldly stand against someone like Julien Lavant.”

   

  “That jerk…” I said, clenching tight to my books. “To think he calls himself a noble, hmph! His action goes against what the Noble’s Code stands for. We’re supposed to protect those below us, not torment them over petty tantrums.”

   

  “I see you’re a firm believer of the Code.”

   

  “That I am, Master Wizard.” I proclaimed proudly before pouting. “And I hate it when nobles abuse the Code.”

   

  “If only there were more nobles who share your views, Ms. Desrosiers.” She said with a look of sympathy. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure none of the students cause any more trouble. Have a good day you two.”  

   

  <<<<>>>>

   

  After the whole ordeal at the Hall of the Elements, Brelyna and I went to the Refectorium to have lunch before the former went to her class. I retreated back to my dorm in the Hall of Attainment to spend the rest of my free hours in my room.

   

  The college allowed their students to decorate their rooms, so I decorated mine with a few mementoes I brought along from home - scented candles, glass jars containing rare alchemical ingredients and enchanting supplies. I’ve also spruced up the walls by adding a few banners bearing the colors and sigil of House Desrosiers, just to add more to the homely atmosphere.

   

  I was reading A Dissertation on the Varieties of Protection Spells by Arsyn Thireloth as suggested by Tolfdir. It contained everything there was to know about protection spells and its variants.

   Protection spells are among the most commonly used spells of today. Even the most thick-headed apprentice knows at least some basic Warding skills. The need for the two kinds of spells is obvious. Tamriel is a place of many perils, and all too often skills taken for granted make a large difference in life-or-death situations. With this in mind, this paper discusses the origins of modern protection spells.

   

  For the purpose of this paper, protection spells will be classified into Ward-type spells and Armor-type spells. Ward-type spells block direct damage, particularly from magical attacks such as Destruction spells. Armor-type spells, on the other hand, do not prevent damage but reduce damage taken. This is done by altering the toughness of the caster’s skin, increasing it to varying degrees (depending on the spell’s strength) so as to better withstand sustained damage. Ward-types belong to the School of Restoration, while Armor-types belong to the School of Alteration.
  
  

  Ward-type spells and Armor-type spells, despite belonging to different Schools, share similarities in that they are designed to protect the user from harm. This brings us to the main subject of this dissertation. Ward-type spells and Armor-type spells share a common lineage in Shield-type spells, spells which were used two hundred years ago.

   

  Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted my reading.

   

  “Just a moment.” I said before leaving a bookmark on the page I was reading. I opened the door and was surprised to see a middle-aged Breton in brown-and-yellow ‘adept’ robes standing in front of me. He looked agitated. “Is there something I could help you with, sir?”

   

  “You’re Elise Desrosiers, correct?” The man inquired.

   

  I nodded.

   

  “Do you have a spare moment to talk?”

   

  I nodded again and allowed him into my room. We sat down at a small table near the corner of my room.  

   

  “My name is Arniel Gane,” He began. “I’m a scholar here in the College of Winterhold. I’ve heard a few things about you, Ms. Desrosiers.”

   

  “Good things or bad things?” I asked.

   

  “Mostly good things,” Arniel replied. “I need help with something. It’s about a side project I’m working on, nothing related to my actual research – which is a secret by the way.”

   

  “Um, okay. So what do you need help with?”

   

  “About a week ago, a friend of mine contacted me, saying that she had a possible lead on a rare Dwemer artifact. I asked her if she could have it sent to me the moment she recovers it. I hoped to examine it first-hand before it would be sent to Markarth.”

   

  “But you never received the artifact, did you?” I concluded.

   

  “Sadly, yes.” Arniel nodded, disappointed. “I’ve sent letters to her, but so far she has failed to reply to all of them. So it seems my best course of action now is to send someone directly to her and ask for the artifact.”

   

  “And that someone is me?”

   

  “Yes,”

   

  Oh great, so basically I’m his courier then. Hiding my displeasure, I asked, “With all due respect, sir, why me? Can’t you hand the task over to a senior student instead?”

   

  “Between you and me, the senior students have become rather ‘unenthusiastic’ when it comes to performing simple requests.”  

   

  I gave a second thought. “I guess I could do it. But what about my studies?”

   

  “I’ll write a letter to the Arch-Mage stating that you are performing a task for the College.” Arniel explained with simplicity. “You’ll be doing the College a favor.”

   

  Well helping the College is good... “Alright, I’ll do it.” I said. “So where would I meet this friend of yours, sir?”

   

  The Breton smiled and after a brief pause, he answered.

   

  “Riften.”

   

   

   

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