Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 475 - XCII: Northbound Once Again

(General POV)

Emperor Titus Mede II slumped into a seat within his private chambers and let out a thoroughly exhausted sigh, his hand absently reaching to massage his forehead as the events of the previous month replayed in his mind.

One might think the usual suspects in the Thalmor were to blame for his current state but no, the high elves did not attack the ceremony nor the feast as they had suspected and instead focused what forces they could on a target they thought more likely to succeed.

Namely the fortified port city of Anvil that faced the island of Alinor itself.

Sadly for the inbred golden bastards, the city was for months now filled to the brim with both Pennitus Occulatus and Morag Tong agents who found out their plans in advance and promptly slaughtered everyone involved while attempting to capture who they could.

The Altmer agents ended their lives the moment they were captured but the operation was still considered a complete success for the Empire.

No, Titus' growing headache was ironically the result of the very wedding he knew would bring his plans closer to fruition.

The wedding was, as one might expect, a roaring success both with the nobility and the masses. Both the feast itself and the gifts were the most impressive Titus himself had ever seen, especially when Reyvin revealed his own gift to his new wife... A painting that both moved, and perfectly (or so he said) displayed the fateful battle in Sovengarde.

To say the Nords were excitement would be an understatement, even if the sight of Ulfric Stormcloak did make things a bit awkward for some of them, especially his young son.

In fact, the entire feast seemed to cease for a full hour as the guests marveled at the sight straight out of a northern saga.

Which is exactly where Titus' headache started, not for anything that happened but simply due to the compounding of months of worry finally reaching a boiling point.

Oh he liked Reyvin well enough on a personal level but his repeated displays of power, his wise rule so far, and his quick wit were ever so slowly beginning to overshadow the achievements of Titus' actual heir, and while competence was useful in a consort, Minthara seemed all too happy to just let him do as he wished for the most part.

She even tended to defer to him in most discussions for gods' sake!

The old Emperor sighed once more, and took a sip of his wine, swallowing the drink without even bothering to taste it, even as he remembered his Seneschal's chiding over the habit.

He felt the soul-deep exhaustion that followed him ever since the war sink in even deeper and for all the good the magic and potions available to an Emperor did his body, his mind was ever weary, and growing more so by the moment.

How long would he have to wait until she was ready? And how wise was the choice truly?

The latter thought was discarded almost immediately, the constant badgering of his advisors was reasonable if one were to follow the usual thought process but oddly enough neither the Dragonborn nor the Hortator seemed to want to use the other beyond what the other was readily willing to offer!

Which would be ridiculous to even think in most cases, likely involving derisive comments about childish romances and foolish naivite but by either sheer dumb luck or the will of the gods it seemed to actually be one of those rare cases where things just clicked for the lack of a better word.

"Politics aren't meant to be straightforward, damn it." The old man grumbled and downed yet more wine.

His felt conflicted, his experience told him to seek hidden meanings behind every act and be weary of lies and deceit behind every word spoken by lord or peasant alike, and yet his heart told him all would be well and his dim faith had been reassured by the very gods bestowing their blessing upon the marriage.

The irony of the obvious Mephalan being so straightforwardly honest about his intentions was not lost on him either "Ridiculous." He scoffed, though not unhappily.

Either the new Prince-Consort was playing them all for fools, which was not an unreasonable assumption to make, or he genuinely loved the future Empress and was also a believer in the dream of a united Tamriel...

Hours he spent worrying about what could be, going through far too many possible outcomes from the most banal to the most vile and outlandish until the simple thought struck him so suddenly and harshly he dropped his cup on the floor.

Could he even do anything about it at this point?

Any kind of effective action against the madly popular future rulers would result in a swift and permanent end of the Tamrielic dream, and most of said actions he would be unwilling to commit due to simple principle and common decency, which in the end meant he could quite literally do nothing.

And just like that the weight was lifted and he let out a tired but happy chuckle "I suppose all that is left then is to make sure she is ready for anything." He exhaled in newfound contentment "Yes... I do believe it is finally time to start letting go."

A thought that filled him with both excitement and dread.

Now if only the two took their time and did not take a sizeable retinue and abscond north barely a day after their marriage without any kind of real explanation, he might have even gotten the chance to implement his decision.

"Oh well" He mumbled sleepily "Let the children have their fun while they can. They certainly won't be getting the chance when I finally retire from that accursed chair."

And with that happy thought he nodded off to sleep.

---

(Reyvin's POV)

"Behold the might of he who will bring the world to its knees!" Ulf the Terrible, after having his obligatory mug of mead, cackled madly and promptly struck the walls of the Hall of Refinement with repeated chain lightning.

"You got him to that level" I point at the madman "In like two weeks?"

"Indeed, student mine!" Shalazar squeaks from his cushy seat upon the ceiling "If only he did not require alcohol in abundance he would be the mightiest magician to ever magick!"

Could a Mer do anything but deadpan in disappointment at such a proclamation?

"Hah!" Phineas scoffs from nearby "Now you know how the rest of us feel whenever you do something ridiculous."

Instead of acknowledging his words I merely raise an eyebrow "Enjoying your newfound authority, oh Archmage of Winterhold?"

The poor lich wilts "Don't even start you bastard, I am sure you were the one to recommend tossing all the work at my feet."

"Well Tolfdir was already Archmage for what?" I look to Shalazar.

"Two hundred years and change!" The Mighty Lizard Wizard informs.

"That" I turn back to Phineas "And you wouldn't want to bother the poor old man with such a burden again, would you?"

Phineas rolls his illusory eyes.

"Unless" I smirk "You expected Shalazar to take the spot?"

All the Lich's annoyance disappears as it is replaced with existential dread.

"A most foolish option, most studious of students!" The man himself squeaks.

Snapping my fingers I grin "And so here we are"

Phineas parrots me sullenly "And so here we are."

"That reminds me" I speak up after a few explosions are thrown by Dread Ulf "Shalazar, how is what's his name doing?"

The Lizard Wizard drops on the floor next to me, landing precisely on his feet as he answers "Young Valezar recovers most rapidly from his perils, my worrisome pupil!"

"Good" I smile "He may not be the most deserving but nepotism is a good a reason as any."

"Quite." The resident undead man interjects "He made for good research material in any case."

Neither Shalazar nor I react visibly to the insinuation, much to Phineas' chagrin.

A fact he gets over instantly "In any case, what are you doing all the way here? No more thrones to scheme your grey ass onto?"

He gets a prompt flipped bird directed in his general direction before I answer "Merely a pit stop I am afraid. Thought to visit Septimus Signus in his cave before I left but there was no trace of him or his research to be found."

"Yes..." Phineas frowns "Ever since Savos visited him before our descent into Blackreach the fool was growing increasingly paranoid, we did still keep an eye on him because it was common sense back then but one day he just up and vanished." He pauses a moment before adding "Should be around the time Stormcloak got gutted but definitely before you killed Alduin, I think."

'So Mora had him pack up and leave as quickly as possible... Probably should have grabbed him the moment hostilities started but I was understandably distracted at the time.' Voicing none of this I nod "Thanks, I was rather surprised the madman chose to leave his cave and permanently at that."

"No skin off our backs in any case" Phineas shrugs "He barely even interacted with the college for decades by that point, he had some interesting ideas but getting them out of him was like pulling teeth."

"No great loss indeed" I hum and shift the topic to something less heavy "So how is the homunculus project progressing so far?"

And thus began a two hour long rant on nerve structures and how 'fucking fickle the little shits were to handle' and how 'if he did not have all the time in the world he'd have burned the notes and buried the ash in a latrine ten times over by now.'

He looked somewhere between wanting to strangle and kiss me when I told him about all I've learned through Corprus and my interactions with Divayth Fyr.

He definitely tried to strangle me when I told him I'd have to leave today.

Got blasted by a turn undead so potent it made poor Ulf sober.

-----

The morning mists of the Sea of Ghosts felt almost welcoming as I walked down the wide stairs leading to Winterhold's dock and growing shipyard, the increasingly clingy and quite drowsy Minthara practically hanging off my arm as she refused to fully awaken.

My wife's (and wasn't that a thought I did not think I would be thinking anytime soon) state was rather understandable considering the true extent of her newfound 'clinginess.'

Behind us marched a rather eclectic group of mostly warriors and mages, all of whom were selected either from my Sworn Mer's most veteran ranks or the soldiers of Morrowind, or from the Dragon Banner's own swelling numbers.

Alongside members of our inner circles of course, only some of whom elected or were told to remain back in Cyrodiil.

"Why do you look so peppy this early?" Minthara mutters with narrowed eyes "We are just going to grab a ship, and it won't be the first time."

"Ah but that my dear is where you are wrong." I poke her cheek "For we will not merely be travelling to Solstheim but travelling in style!"

And just as I finished speaking we rounded a corner and were greeted by the sight of Torryg's own ship, the monstrosity known as The Jagged Crown.

Judging by how she started vibrating in excitement, she was most certainly awake now.

-----

The trip to the island was not to be a great one, especially so upon a vessel as thoroughly enchanted as the flagship of Skyrim... Which is to say that Minthara's excitement died out just as quickly as it came and she proceeded to pout as I went over the literal tons of supplies I hard ordered be brought from Solitude with the ship itself.

The captain and his crew were accommodating and professional and only some of the newer Dragon Banner recruits turned rowdy before they were thoroughly shown the error of their ways by way of rapid smackdown by bored dragoness.

Not even a full day passed before the mists of the Sea of Ghosts parted and our destination revealed itself upon the horizon, the quaint little island that was somehow part desert, part mountain, and part fjord at the same time, Solstheim.

"Now wait a bloody moment..." I narrow my eyes at the obvious signs of battle I could see in the distance.

"Mr. Tentacular really upped the ante, eh pops?" Scorch chirps almost eagerly.

"That much is quite certain." I mutter "You might just get to taste calamari eyes sooner rather than later methinks."

There was no almost about his eagerness this time.

And for once it would be useful, because dear poledancing Dagoth that was a lot of fucking reiklings and assorted ne'erdowells brimming with dear Hermy's own brand of mindfuck-juice in their heads currently camped around Raven Rock.

How nice of the little shit to prepare a welcoming present for me.

-------

The day of stone is come!

Honor it with your everything!

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