The Bound - A Tale Of Tamriel

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i. Elsewhere.

"From the frigid North comes the Brawler.

A babe of one race, child of another, but member of none.

Their strength will rival your own.

Where the fire burns the sky comes the Footpad.

Born from nobility, brought low by choice.

Their cunning will see through your tricks.

The arid reaches of sand will bring forth the Pilgrim.

Once the trusted soldier now without king or war.

Their strategies will confound you.

Pastoral paradise is home for the Sage.

Knowledge is their motivation and aspiration.

Their intelligence will match yours."

The ethereal voice was diminishing even as the body, from which it emanated, became more wizened and desiccated. Still, the questioner was not satisfied, letting a haughty sniff erupt from their nose.

"When can I expect these interlopers?" Said with the regal attitude that only the Altmer can exude, even with a construct that had no concept of self or station.

"This one cannot see. Cannot see." The body was mere ash in bodily form, now, and as it began to dissipate into nothing-ness, it's final words whispered away, "They come. They come."

The ash that was once a body floated away on a breeze that did not exist, could not exist, in this sanctum.

The Altmer stared one last time at the place where the body had been, turned on their heel and strode from the chamber.

ii. Öenthir.

It was the way of the Mages Guild to send their lowliest students out into the wilds of Tamriel to search for and recover books of old. Even copies of The Lusty Argonian Maid were carefully retrieved, catalogued and shelved in the Infinite Library deep in the bowels of the various Guild halls throughout the continent.

Öenthir was one such lowly student. Talented, for certain, but with a tendency to dream higher than her current skills, and station, would imply. She believed, wholeheartedly, that she had a destiny for something greater. Scryers and soothsayers of the Guild would dispute that, as wholeheartedly. She would, one day, be a relatively powerful mage, but otherwise unremarkable. Such was the destiny that had been set out before her.

Until that time, her position, as it was for any student, regardless of the loftiness of their destiny, was to retrieve books.

It was with a deep sense of boredom that Öenthir placed the book she had been tasked to find deep into her cumbersome satchel and with a deep, equal sense of impatience that she would wile away the time until the Guild's Librarian opened up the portal to return her to Auridon. To Vulkhel Guard and the Guild Hall.

In the meantime, she wandered through this backwater city at the arse end of the world dreaming once again of her future career as Guild Master and, one day, Arch Mage. She truly believed it. She felt it deep within her bones, no matter what any of the others told her.

The mood around the city was a tenuous, hopeful one. The Three Banners War had lulled, somewhat, over the past few weeks with each faction held in an uneasy position of stagnation, and here, in the area of Skyrim known as The Rift, the city of Riften was tempting fate by breathing a collective sigh of relief. Of course, Riften was a Nord city and Nords were not averse to fighting. 'Relish' would be a suitable word to describe how Nord's felt about fighting, but even Nords can tire of it. Eventually.