If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The metal sigil instantly flared to life, glowing with a blinding, sustained blue light that completely illuminated the bridge entrance, signaling a flawless, overwhelming pass of the aptitude test. Faralda stumbled back half a step, her eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated shock as she stared at the perfectly executed dual cast.
She stared at the glowing, supercharged metal sigil on the stone platform. The blinding blue light reflected in her wide eyes, casting long shadows across her fine Altmer features.
Slowly, the intense magical flare began to subside, leaving behind a faint, humming resonance in the ancient stone.
Faralda let out a long, slow breath, a genuinely impressed smile replacing her previously stern demeanor. She looked from the glowing seal back up to Aerion, her respect for him instantly multiplying.
"Well now," Faralda murmured, her voice laced with deep, professional appreciation. "It appears you are vastly more skilled than I initially gave you credit for, Aerion. It is an incredibly rare sight to see a traveler arrive at these gates capable of perfectly synchronizing a dual cast of Firebolt and Lightning Bolt. A single, standard cast is the norm for our entrance test. But..."
She offered a slight, knowing shrug, tapping into the inherent pride of their shared lineage. "...you are a High Elf, after all. It only makes sense. Our natural superiority in the arcane arts, combined with our vastly deeper Magicka pools, provides us with a distinct advantage in mastering the volatile weaves of Destruction."
Aerion simply smiled, offering a polite, shallow nod of his head. He didn't bother correcting her assumption that his power came purely from his race, rather than a highly optimized, system assisted grind. "We are certainly blessed with a natural affinity, Master Faralda. But power is nothing without the proper instruction to wield it."
He gestured toward the massive, imposing gates of the College looming across the perilous stone bridge. "Given that I have so clearly demonstrated an aptitude far above the standard requirement, I must ask, into what rank shall I be placed upon my entry? Surely a dual cast warrants advanced standing?"
Faralda chuckled softly, shaking her head, her blonde hair catching the faint magical light. "Ambition is an excellent trait, Aerion, but the College operates on a strict, merit based hierarchy. Regardless of the raw power you displayed on this platform, you will still be granted the title of Apprentice."
"You must prove your foundational knowledge, learn the specific academic basics of the College, and demonstrate a commitment to our rules before you can advance. Besides, there are currently no open positions for Senior Mages among the faculty. You must walk the path like everyone else."
"A perfectly reasonable system," Aerion conceded gracefully. He had expected as much. The title mattered little, it was the access to the libraries and the master tutors he truly desired.
"Indeed. Now, follow me," Faralda instructed, turning toward the narrow, terrifying stone bridge that spanned the abyssal drop. "The winds can be treacherous. Stay to the center of the path."
As they walked, Faralda raised her left hand, her long fingers weaving a complex pattern of Alteration magic. With a soft, resonant hum, a brilliant sphere of glowing white energy, a Magelight, erupted from her palm.
She sent the orb floating ahead of them, where it gently settled into one of the ancient, frozen magical wells lining the bridge. Instantly, the well flared to life, casting a warm, illuminating glow that pushed back the freezing shadows and the blinding snow.
She repeated the process as they walked, lighting the pathway step by step.
"The College has stood here for thousands of years," Faralda explained, her voice echoing slightly over the roar of the ocean far below. "Long before the Great Collapse tore the rest of the city away. The locals down there in the snow believe our magic caused the disaster. They are fools, of course, seeking a convenient scapegoat for the unpredictable wrath of nature. But their ignorance makes our isolation necessary."
They reached the end of the long bridge, standing before a set of massive, heavy iron gates set into a towering archway of dark stone. As they approached, the ancient enchantments recognized Faralda's presence, and the massive gates slowly, silently swung open entirely on their own.
Aerion stepped through the threshold, Lupin trotting closely beside his boots, and stopped dead in his tracks.
The courtyard of the College of Winterhold was absolutely breathtaking.
It was nothing like the barren, empty, unimpressive stone yard he remembered from his countless hours playing the game in his past life. The reality he had stepped into was clearly a heavily 'modded' version of the institution. The scale was massive.
The central courtyard was vast, paved with immaculate, interlocking stone tiles that radiated a faint, ambient warmth, keeping the entire area completely free of snow and ice.
Towering statues of ancient, hooded mages holding glowing staffs flanked the pathways. In the very center of the yard stood an enormous, highly complex astrolabe, its brass rings slowly rotating in the air, humming with cosmic energy.
Lush, magically sustained flora, glowing blue mushrooms, vibrant colorful mountain flowers, and exotic ferns, grew in beautifully manicured stone planters, completely defying the freezing climate of the Pale.
It truly looked like a premier, world class academy of magic.
Faralda stopped near the entrance gates, turning back to face him.
"This is where I must leave you, Aerion," Faralda stated, gesturing back toward the bridge. "I must return to my post to guard the entrance against any... unwanted interruptions from the locals. You may proceed inside by yourself. You need to locate Master Wizard Mirabelle Ervine. All new apprentices must report directly to her for their formal orientation and quarter assignments."
Aerion nodded, tearing his eyes away from the rotating brass astrolabe. "And where might I find Master Mirabelle at this hour?"
"She should be inside the Hall of Elements, straight ahead through the main doors," Faralda pointed toward the largest, central building of the courtyard. "She is currently conducting a morning lecture on magical theory for the other apprentices."
"I shall seek her out immediately. Thank you for your guidance, Master Faralda," Aerion said, offering a polite bow.
As Aerion turned to leave, Faralda reached out, her voice dropping into a low, highly secretive whisper.
"A final word of advice, Aerion," Faralda warned, her green eyes darting quickly around the courtyard to ensure no one was listening. "There is an agent of the Thalmor currently residing within the College walls. His name is Ancano. He claims to be an 'advisor' to the Arch-Mage, but we all know he is a spy."
She looked at Aerion closely. "From the way you carry yourself, and the way you spoke to me on the bridge, I can tell that you do not share the supremacist views of our Thalmor brethren. Just like me. I advise you to watch your back, and watch your words, when Ancano is in the room. He is dangerous."
Aerion's golden eyes narrowed slightly, processing the valuable intelligence. He already knew about Ancano's villainous role, but having Faralda openly confirm her anti Thalmor stance was an excellent political victory.
"I appreciate the warning, Master Faralda. I am highly accustomed to dealing with vipers. I will tread carefully," Aerion promised with a firm nod.
Leaving the Gatekeeper behind, Aerion and Lupin began the walk across the massive, magically warmed courtyard.
The College was bustling with activity. Unlike the desolate game version, there were actually dozens of people traversing the grounds. Senior mages in sweeping, intricately embroidered robes hurried between the towering buildings, clutching armfuls of ancient tomes. Apprentices practiced minor levitation spells or debated alchemical theories near the glowing planters.
The moment Aerion walked past them, the activity noticeably stalled.
Whispers immediately broke out. Eyes darted toward him. The sight of a towering, wealthy High Elf walking onto the grounds instantly triggered the same political paranoia Faralda had just warned him about.
"Look at him," an Imperial apprentice muttered to a Breton girl, not quite quietly enough. "Is that another one of Ancano's lapdogs?"
"Must be," a senior Nord mage sneered from a distance. "Look at those robes. Typical Thalmor arrogance."
Aerion completely ignored the stares and the hushed, racist assumptions. He maintained his aristocratic, untouchable posture, his face an unreadable mask of calm superiority as he walked directly toward the massive, heavily carved wooden double doors of the central keep.
He pushed the heavy doors open, stepping out of the courtyard and into the grand antechamber of the central tower. To his immediate left was a reinforced, locked door leading to the Arcanaeum, the legendary library guarded by the fierce Orc, Urag gro-Shub. To his right, a sweeping staircase led up to the Arch-Mage's private quarters.
Straight ahead lay the open archway to the Hall of Elements.
Aerion stepped silently through the archway, instantly feeling a massive, localized concentration of pure magical energy. The Hall of Elements was a massive, circular amphitheater of dark stone. In the exact center of the room sat a deep, glowing magical well, radiating a pillar of raw, swirling blue Magicka toward the high, vaulted ceiling.
Gathered in a semi circle around the glowing well were roughly ten apprentices, all wearing the standard, unadorned blue robes of their rank. They were standing in rapt attention, listening to a woman pacing back and forth before the magical pillar.
The speaker was a Breton woman with short, practical dark hair, wearing the ornate, hooded robes of a Master Wizard. Her voice was sharp, authoritative, and commanded absolute respect. This was Mirabelle Ervine.
Standing quietly off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back, was an elderly Nord man with long, unkempt white hair and a massive, bushy white beard. He watched the students with a warm, grandfatherly smile. Aerion instantly recognized the beloved Alteration master, Tolfdir.
Aerion did not interrupt. He walked quietly to the back of the room, standing in the shadows near the archway, with Lupin sitting obediently at his feet. He crossed his arms and listened to the tail end of the lecture.
"...and that is why a Ward is not merely a static shield of light," Mirabelle was saying, her voice echoing clearly off the stone walls. "It is a dynamic, hungry matrix. It requires a constant, steady stream of Magicka to maintain its surface tension. If your concentration breaks for even a fraction of a second, the Ward shatters, and the hostile spell will turn you into a pile of ash. Magic is not a toy. It is a tool, and it requires absolute discipline."
Mirabelle paused, her sharp eyes sweeping over the apprentices to ensure the lesson had landed. As she turned, her gaze flicked to the back of the hall, immediately spotting the towering High Elf and his fox. Tolfdir had noticed him as well, his bushy eyebrows rising in mild, pleasant surprise.
Neither of the masters acknowledged him yet.
"That will be all for this morning," Mirabelle announced briskly, clapping her hands together once. "Review the texts on structural stability I assigned yesterday. Class dismissed."
The ten apprentices bowed respectfully to the Master Wizard and began to file out of the hall. As they passed Aerion, several of them shot him curious, wary glances, actively stepping around him as they hurried out into the courtyard.
With the hall empty save for the glowing central well, Mirabelle and Tolfdir approached the newcomer.
"Welcome to the College of Winterhold," Mirabelle greeted him, her tone polite but highly businesslike. She looked him up and down, noting the exceptionally fine quality of his dark robes. "You must be a new arrival. I am Master Wizard Mirabelle Ervine, the Master of this College. I handle all administrative duties and the orientation of new apprentices."
Aerion offered a flawless, respectful bow. "It is an honor to meet you, Master Mirabelle. I am Aerion. And this is my familiar, Lupin."
He gestured to the fox, who let out a soft yip.
"I am indeed here to join the ranks of the College with some skills in Destruction and was looking to learn Conjuration," Aerion continued smoothly. "Though, if I may be so bold, when I passed the entrance examination on the bridge, Master Faralda explicitly stated that my skills and magical aptitude were already significantly above the rank of a standard Apprentice."
Mirabelle raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly accustomed to the bloated egos of new arrivals, particularly Altmer. "Is that so? Well, Faralda is a strict judge of character and power. If she said that, there might be some truth to it. I shall have to speak with her later to verify your... exceptional aptitude."
Mirabelle then turned her head to look at the elderly Nord standing beside her. "What do you think, Tolfdir? Does he look like a prodigy to you?"
Tolfdir let out a warm, rumbling chuckle, stroking his massive white beard. His bright, intelligent eyes studied Aerion with a keen, philosophical interest.
"Well, Mirabelle, I suppose we shall see the true extent of his abilities later, when he begins joining the practical classes, won't we?" Tolfdir said, his voice carrying the gentle, absent minded wisdom of a lifelong scholar.
Tolfdir looked directly at Aerion, a kind but firm expression on his weathered face. "While Faralda may have been slightly exaggerating her praise, she does favor her own kind, after all. It is an undeniable fact that High Elves possess a much better natural control and a deeper, inherent attunement to the flows of Magicka compared to the other races of Tamriel."
Tolfdir stepped closer, raising a single finger to emphasize his point. "However, Aerion, you must remember this, natural talent and a deep Magicka pool are merely the foundation. Hard work, relentless discipline, and a genuine, humble willingness to learn are the most important traits required to become a high ranked mage in this College. Arrogance will get you killed faster than a misplaced fireball."
Aerion smiled warmly, accepting the gentle reprimand with complete grace. He genuinely liked Tolfdir. "I could not agree more, Master Tolfdir. I am not here to rest on the laurels of my lineage. I am here to work, to study, and to expand my understanding of the arcane to its absolute limits."
"An excellent attitude," Mirabelle noted, her skepticism softening slightly into professional approval.
"Since you have successfully passed Faralda's test at the gate, you are now officially an Apprentice of the College of Winterhold," Mirabelle declared formally. "As for your rank, you will have ample opportunity to increase your standing. We reward results, academic achievements, and groundbreaking magical research. Prove your worth, and your rank will reflect it."
She then launched into a rapid, practiced explanation of the institution's guidelines.
"The rules of the College are simple but absolute," Mirabelle listed off on her fingers. "Do not steal from your fellow mages. Do not assault or murder any members of the College. Do not conduct unauthorized, highly volatile experiments in the living quarters. And under no circumstances are you to practice summoning magic outside of the designated warding circles in the Midden."
She paused, crossing her arms. "Beyond those core safety protocols, you are afforded a massive amount of personal freedom. We do not hold your hand here. Attendance in the daily lectures is not strictly mandatory, though it is highly encouraged. The only mandatory events are your formal ranking examinations. You are free to pursue your own independent research, utilize the Arcanaeum, and explore your magical talents as you see fit. Is that perfectly clear?"
"Abundantly clear, Master Mirabelle," Aerion nodded his head, memorizing the parameters.
"Good," Mirabelle said briskly. She turned to the elderly Nord. "Tolfdir, since you are currently between classes, would you please be so kind as to escort Aerion to the Hall of Attainment? Assign him one of the free quarters on the second floor."
She glanced at Aerion's immaculate, enchanted dark robes. "I would normally have you issue him a standard set of Apprentice robes and a novice hood, but seeing the quality of his current attire, I highly doubt he requires them."
"I would be more than happy to show the young man to his quarters," Tolfdir agreed with a warm smile.
"Excellent. I have administrative matters to attend to in the Arch-Mage's quarters. I shall see you both later," Mirabelle said, offering a curt nod before turning on her heel and marching out of the Hall of Elements.
Tolfdir gestured toward the archway. "Right this way, Aerion. Follow me."
Aerion and Lupin followed the elderly master out of the massive central keep and back into the bustling, magically warmed courtyard. They turned to the right, heading toward a large, imposing circular tower that mirrored the one on the opposite side of the yard.
As they walked, Tolfdir proved to be a delightfully talkative escort.
"So, an interest in Destruction and Conjuration, hmm?" Tolfdir mused, keeping a slow, steady pace. "Fascinating disciplines. Though, I must admit, my heart truly belongs to the school of Alteration. The ability to fundamentally bend the physical laws of reality to your will... it is a beautiful, deeply complex weave."
"Alteration is indeed a profoundly powerful school," Aerion agreed politely, remembering the Lesser Ward spellbook he had absorbed that morning. "The ability to project magical armor or manipulate gravity has saved many lives."
"Precisely!" Tolfdir beamed, thrilled to find a student who appreciated magical theory.
They passed several groups of apprentices standing around the courtyard. A pair of young mages were attempting to cast basic healing spells on a withered plant, while an older, heavily scarred Orc mage was deep in conversation with a Khajiit scholar. Tolfdir offered warm greetings to several of the students as they walked by, clearly beloved by the student body.
They finally reached the heavy wooden doors of the tower on the right.
"Here we are. The Hall of Attainment," Tolfdir announced, pushing the doors open.
They stepped into a circular, surprisingly cozy interior. The stone walls were lined with bookshelves, and a large, central fire pit roared with warmth, providing a comfortable ambient temperature. Several doors lined the curved walls of the ground floor, leading to the private rooms of the senior mages.
"The ground floor is strictly reserved for the senior apprentices," Tolfdir explained, leading Aerion toward a sweeping, stone spiral staircase that hugged the inner wall of the tower. "The new apprentices are housed above."
They climbed the spiral stairs, emerging onto the second floor. It was identical in layout to the ground floor, with a central fire pit and several heavy wooden doors lining the circular wall.
Tolfdir walked over to one of the doors on the left side and pushed it open.
"This will be your assigned quarters, Aerion," Tolfdir said, stepping aside to let the High Elf look inside.
The room was modest but comfortable. It featured a sturdy, fur lined stone bed, a small wooden writing desk littered with blank parchment and a quill, a bookshelf, and a large, empty wooden chest at the foot of the bed for storing personal belongings. The stone walls were thick, ensuring privacy and retaining the heat from the central fire pit outside.
"It is an excellent space. Thank you," Aerion said, stepping into the room to examine the desk. Lupin immediately hopped onto the fur lined bed, claiming it as his own.
Tolfdir leaned against the doorframe, a playful, warning twinkle in his eye.
"You are free to do whatever you want with your personal quarters, Aerion," Tolfdir chuckled warmly, pointing a weathered finger at him. "You may decorate it, study in it, or sleep the day away. But please... no burning the room down. And absolutely no conducting any crazy, highly volatile magical experiments in here that might result in the gruesome death of the other apprentices or cause massive structural havoc on the College grounds."
Tolfdir's smile widened into a knowing grin. "After all, given the history of Winterhold, no one here wants to be responsible for another magical disaster, do they?"
Aerion let out a genuine, hearty chuckle at the old man's morbid humor. He liked Tolfdir's pragmatic approach to magical safety. "You have my absolute word, Master Tolfdir. I will keep my volatile experiments confined to the designated training areas. There will be no explosions in the Hall of Attainment."
"Glad to hear it," Tolfdir nodded approvingly.
Before the master could leave, Aerion stepped forward. "Master Tolfdir, a quick question regarding the curriculum. If I wished to seek out a private lecture, or perhaps direct, one on one teaching with one of the senior mages to accelerate my learning, what administrative procedures must I follow?"
"Oh, there is no tedious paperwork required for such things," Tolfdir replied, waving a dismissive hand. "We are scholars, not Imperial bureaucrats. If you desire private instruction, you simply approach the master of that specific school and ask them directly."
Tolfdir stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Of course, whether they agree immediately, or whether they require you to perform a specific task, run an errand, or provide something in exchange for their valuable time, is entirely up to the individual master you ask."
Tolfdir's eyes twinkled again as he looked at Aerion. "And that applies to all of us, my boy. Including me. If you ever wish to delve deeply into the secrets of Alteration, you know where to find me. Just be prepared to help an old man find his misplaced alembic in return."
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 330/330 Stamina: 310/310 Magicka: 450/450 Level: 66
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+1)/Lightning) (Level 0/62), Persuasion (Level 85), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 26), One Handed (Level 67), Restoration (Healing) (Level 37), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 23), Archery (Level 72), Alteration (Level 4), Enchanting (Level 19), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 60), Illusion (Level 6), Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Steel Dagger of Minor Souls, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Ancient Nord Bow, Dragonstone, Ancient Nord Battleaxe Of Blaze, & Potion of Minor Pickpocketing
2x Iron Mace, Steel Axe, Steel Greatsword, & Lockpicks
3x Iron Greatsword, Steel Sword, Scroll Of Fireball, Glowing Mushrooms, & Potions of Minor Stamina
4x Potions of Minor Magicka & Spider Eggs
5x Lesser Soul Gem
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 109.07 KG / 455 KG
Septims = 54,872