15 Last Seed, 3E 427
The sun rose over Ebonheart, shining through my window to wake me to the worst headache I've ever had. I attempted a simple Restoration cantrip I used to use after long nights of studying for my Journeyman reports, and it did take some of the spots out of my vision, but the light was still too bright and sounds too loud.
I slowly managed to lift the covers off of me, and sat up in bed. My mouth tasted like a troll's foot, and Dorian was nowhere to be found. He was kind enough to leave a note on the bedside table, apologizing and reminding me that his boat set sail early, and that he still hoped I might make it to Gnisis one day.
Frowning, and moving with exaggerated deliberateness, I stood and moved to the chest at the foot of the bed, where I stored my pack. I lifted a pair of simple blue robes out and put them on. Slipping my shoes on, I went down the stairs. Doing my best to ignore the pointed stares of the innkeeper, I ordered a simple breakfast. Having never had kwama eggs, I was a little suspicious of the massive heap of strangely colored fluff that was delivered on my plate. My headache was making me nauseous, and I didn't think I could stomach anything too novel.
Blessed Mara, was I wrong.
The kwama eggs not only tasted delicious as the innkeeper had prepared them, they also did wonders in settling my stomach and even relieved a little bit of my headache. I made a mental note to inquire into any potential alchemical properties they might contain when I finally made it to a guild hall. Wishing I hadn't sold my own alchemical apparati to help fund this project, I tipped the innkeeper for the meal and took to the morning streets.
The streets of Ebonheart were already bustling with activity. I wandered for a bit, meandering in the general direction of the great stone castle. My papers had been taken care of on the mainland, so I wasn't too worried about being stopped by the guards (it had to have been obvious that I was an outlander, and I had deliberately avoided the usual port destination of Seyda Neen, opting for what I hoped would be a more cosmopolitan place to begin my time here). If anybody gave me any problems, I had the stamped document in my pack still.
By mid-morning, my body felt much better. I like to think that my skills in Restoration were to credit, but I know that I've always been better with Conjuration, although my guildmates always said I had a knack for Destruction as well. In fact, a good portion of my research here would probably require me to learn a great deal more about all three. That was half the point, after all.
Getting directions from a patrolling guard, I made my way to the Imperial Cult shrine, tucked away in an isolated corner of the castle. The chapel was surprisingly full, and I soon found out why. Dorian had failed to mention the fact that the Imperial Cult was headquartered here, and I had the opportunity to see many incredibly important people. My nervousness got the best of me, though, so I hadn't the courage to introduce myself to anybody more than a shorter Cyrodiilic man named Tunifus. I explained that I was new to Vvardenfell, and on my way to the capital city, and he told me about a small boat leaving within the next few hours for the city.
I thanked him and, suppressing the sudden nausea at just the thought of being trapped on a boat again, rushed out. I decided to focus on the task at hand and ignore the queasiness. Thankfully, it worked. I made it to the docks just in time, forked over a third of my remaining coin funds, and took a spot on the crowded deck of the ship. I questioned the most friendly looking dark elf I could find.
"Excuse me, would you happen to know where this ship sets down?"
"New to Morrowind? It'll take us a couple hours, but the ship will dock just north of the Foreign Canton by midafternoon. You'll be able to see the city itself if the fog lets up."
I thanked him and tried to not get sick by mentally reciting Tinur's Three Principles.
Within the half hour, the fog lifted, and I got my first view of the city of Vivec. Words cannot express my initial amazement. Our boat swung around the southwestern edge, giving me a good view of the cantons rising out of the water, each large enough to be a city by itself. Great stone bridges spanned the canals in between the great pyramids, and even from the boat I could see a bustle of activity going to and fro, a pulsing rhythm that reminded me of the heartbeat of a great, sleeping beast. Suspended over the penultimate southern end of the city was a massive floating rock. I'd heard rumors and stories, but seeing the city and the hovering meteor over it was completely different. I will gladly confess to staring, my heart pounding loud and my mind soaring with excitement. That view of Vivec, as we swung south and east around it, finally made this real for me.
I was here. Half a continent away from any home I've ever known, my entire life in a single small pack that fit over my shoulder. I had only a vague idea of what I planned on studying, just enough of a plan to get it approved by the Wizards at the Arcane University. In my mind, it was going to be ground-breaking research that would change the way people looked at the school of Conjuration, and ask all the hard questions about necromancy and the traditions of elven ancestor worship. In reality, I began to suspect at seeing the wonders of Vvardenfell first-hand that it would be a minuscule hiccup of scholarly repetition. In this land of wonders, where cities rise from the deep and falling stars hang trapped in the air, what mysteries could possibly remain?
My reverie was broken as the boat was brought up against the docks with a loud thunk, sending me rocking slightly. As the plank was lowered, I took my place in the small line of passengers that were heading ashore. A strange sound pulled my attention to to north, where another odd sight greeted me: a second dock stuck out of the hill, dozens of feet over the ground with an end that only barely reached out over the water. Before I could fully begin to wonder at its purpose, my unphrased question was answered for me when, out from around a bend in the hill, trundled a massive flea-like creature. It balanced on disproportionately long legs and appeared to have a semi-circle carved into its exoskeleton on its back where, I knew upon recognition of the creature, a single caravaneer and passengers or cargo could fit snugly. I'd never imagined that the silt strider would look so unwieldy, like a nice strong breeze could knock it to the ground, where it might not ever be able to rise again. It made an eery cry as it moved along, pulling up beside its own dock. I would have stared longer if the Dunmer behind me hadn't rudely shoved me forward as I started to hold up the line. Avoiding eye contact and muttering apologies, I strode down the plank onto the dock, and turned towards the south, to the three-tiered edifice that cast its afternoon shadow down on the docks.
I found that I was able to follow the crowd, Dunmer and outlander alike, without drawing any attention to myself. The bridge was packed with people entering and leaving the city. I moved with the flow of traffic on the left-hand side of the roadway, feeling insignificant in the face of the utter hugeness of the canton. The Mages Guild, I knew, was perched way up atop, in the plaza. Using that as my only goal, I did my best to ignore the sights and smells and sounds of the exotic, to my senses, city. Still, though, I couldn't help but stare at the Dunmer citizens (there were a few elves in Skingrad, but I'd never seen so many at the same time! all the pointed ears, reddened eyes, ridged brows, smiles and sneers and rough gravely voices). Again I was struck by how far away from home I had brought myself. And how disappointed my grandparents would be if they knew exactly where I was.
My only guiding direction being "up", I took the first turn up a steep ramp that was available to me, which brought me to the second level of the canton. I was almost tempted to follow the crowd into the canton, to see what wonders were hidden behind the walls, but I reminded myself of my goal, and stayed with the masses pressing around the structure, to the next ramp, up higher. And so it went for what felt like hours, the exotic shouts in languages I didn't even understand (though I suspect to have been Ashlander dialects), the air heavy with the flavor of the greatest city on Vvardenfell. One sight that stood out the most were the guards of Vivec: Dunmer lurking behind golden masks shaped like elven faces, the eyes nothing but shadows that gave no indication of the observer's focus. Their pauldrons jutted out into sharp points, and on their shield was a great hand surrounded by an inverted triangle, with daedric lettering in each corner. A unique coat, certainly, and one that I suspected had to do with the Dunmeri faith (the triangle being a bit of a give-away, to be fair).
Finally, mercifully, I reached the great doors atop the canton, held wide open to accomodate the plaza traffic. I waited patiently to be let through, politely declined a peddlar's offer of what looked like soggy steak but smelled like honey, and was muttered a silent prayer of gratitude to Julianos that the first thing my eyes fell upon was the familiar and trusted mystic Eye symbol of the Guild. The wooden sign hung out a few feet from a slanted stone building with a stone arch over the doorway - I knew it would take me some time to get used to the foreign architecture. I darted my way through to the door, which opened smoothly upon greased hinges into a kind of reception area.
The reception area was surprisingly bare. Taking up most of the left side of the room, as I was facing, was a great wooden table, upon which rested some ink and parchments, some of which had writing on them, and a copy of the Guild Charter, though its binding was slightly different from that of those found resting on the shelves in Cyrodiil. I suspected that it held addendums specific to the Guild in Vvardenfell, but was denied the chance to peruse it when the Dunmer woman sitting in the chair looked up from her parchment.
"Yes, can I help you?" she asked politely as I shut the door behind me.
"Um, yes, I believe you might be able to," I answered, a little nervously. "My name is Seidvala. I'm here from Cyrodiil...?"
"Oh, you must be the new Journeyman I was told to expect!" Smiling, the woman rose from her desk, and motioned to a woman in plain green robes, who was mid-conversation with a balding old Imperial. The woman bid farewell to the man, handed him a scroll, rolled up and tied tightly with string, before crossing the room.
"Janand, would you mind watching the door for a moment? I would like to make sure this one gets past you-know-who without too much trouble," the Dunmer woman said, trading places with Janand. "Oh, excuse me. This is Janand, our hall's Enchanter, and a Journeyman, like you. Janand, this is Seidvala. She's from Cyrodiil, out here for research. And I'm Malven Romori, Wizard and nominal head of this particular chapter."
"It's nice to meet you," I said, nodding to both of them.
"Shall I show you around? Like I told Janand, we should probably hurry, so that we don't run into..."
Malven was cut off when a bald man with a large nose and imposing brow entered the room, followed closely by a Dunmer in red robes.
"Ah, Malven, there you are! I've been meaning to speak with you. Oh, and who might this be? A new Apprentice? I have just the job for you!" the man boomed, smiling.
"Erm, actually, sir, I'm not---" I started, before Malven jumped in.
"Pardon us, Arch-Mage. I was actually just about to come down to your office and deliver my report to you, in person. Like I told you last week, the tunnel is proceding precisely on schedule. And this young lady here is no apprentice, she was actually just passing through to make a delivery that is of utmost importance to the project. So, if you'll excuse us, we'll both just be on our way."
"Indeed? Splendid! Good to hear! Wonderful! Run along, you two, mustn't hold up construction!"
Malven grabbed my arm and pulled me after her, but before we rounded the doorway, I heard:
"Janand, it's been too long since I've heard from you! Have you managed to duplicate the Mantella yet?"
"Who was that?" I asked, bewildered.
"That, my child, was Arch-Mage Trebonius. His shadow's name is Tiram, but you needn't worry about either of them, with any luck."
"What was the project he was talking about? I'm sorry if there's been some mix-up, I'm not here to help---" Once again, I was interrupted.
"Oh, that. He's tasked me with digging a tunnel to the mainland, to get around Telvanni competition."
"Telvanni?" I asked, the name ringing a bell but the meaning escaping me.
"Oh, child, you're going to have an interesting time in Sadrith Mora... I wish I had time to talk with you more, truly, but it's my responsibility as Wizard to go back and save Janand from our Arch-Mage. It makes getting any real work done around here a miracle, I'm sad to tell you."
She let go of my arm, and I followed her down the stairs that forked off from either direction of the reception area. The walls and floor seemed to be made out of the same rough stone, and I got the impression that if I reached out my hand and ran it along the wall hard enough, it would come away bloody. Tapestries hung down from the walls every so often, giving their all in fighting the bare-space impression the walls fought even harder back to give off. Down two flights of stairs, we turned into a much larger open space whose center was taken up by another large staircase, this one going back up.
"On this level we have the Arch-Mage's office and quarters, and on the other side of the room, to the right there, are some of our member quarters."
I was a little disconcerted by the lack of doors so far; I hoped that this wasn't the architectural norm here, or my desire for privacy might soon make life uncomfortable.
Up the stairway we went. At the top, the hallway branched in three new directions; to the left, I could make out a spacious dining area, to the right I saw bookshelves and a table covered with alchemical supplies and equipment.
"Ah, yes, over in that wing is where we keep our alchemical laboratory here. Craetia, a young apprentice just getting started on her research, was recently assigned to, and I'm quoting Trebonius word-for-word here, 'chain a team of dreugh to a more reasonable climate'. In between that and keeping our stockroom clean, I've been helping her do some research into the more obscure alchemical properties of common food-stuffs. Nothing ground-breaking, and it surely isn't quite as in-depth as what you've come all this way for, but I feel safe in saying that, as long as Trebonius doesn't get in the way, she should have her Journeyman by the year's end."
Straight ahead from the stairs was an elevated platform, the Guild's Eye tapestry hung on the far wall behind it with two braziers positioned on either side of it. Standing at the foot of the platform was a dark-haired Imperial woman in a fine blue robe held at the neck by a unique gem-laden clasp.
"And this," Malven announced, "is Flacassia Fauseius, our guild guide. She's still an Apprentice in the guild, but it's been years since I've met anybody as talented with harnessing and predicting pseudorandom mana fluctuations as she is."
Flacassia blushed a little, smiled, and turned to look at me.
"Flacassia, this is Seidvala, that Journeyman from Cyrodiil I told you about? Tsk, I wish we had more time to get to know you, Seidvala, but with Trebonius lurking over our shoulders, this really wouldn't be the best place for you to start your time here on Vvardenfell."
"Thank you for helping me, Wizard Romori. I take my research quite seriously."
The elf smiled, paused for a moment, and spoke. "I know it isn't really my place to say, but I feel as though I should warn you. Skink-in-Tree's-Shade passed on a little bit about your proposal write-up, and I must say that you definitely came to the right place. I even took the liberty of tracking down a book that I believe will be immensely helpful in getting you started, though it is a touch out of date. It's already waiting for you in Wolverine Hall."
"Thank you!" I exclaimed, surprised.
"Hold on a moment. You'll find, especially where you're going, that not all Dunmer are so understanding of outlanders. I spent most of my youth in the Arcane University, so I'm practically a foreigner myself, but most natives have an inherent dislike for anybody not natural-born 'Mer. That, and the fact that your research will probably require you to dig into their religious beliefs, means that you probably won't be getting the most help on your project."
"Oh. I understand, I think," I said, a little less excited.
"I hope you do, but I don't think you really do, not yet. Just be careful how you ask your questions, Journeyman. It'll be hard to find any sources if all you're greeted with are slammed doors and raised fists. We take our faith very seriously."
With the somber warning pronounced, she smiled again, and turned back to Flacassia. "She's headed to Wolverine Hall. Oh, and accept her letter of credit, giving her change in septims back, if you don't mind. I'll make sure we change it in later this week."
With that, Malven marched back down the stairs, looking as though she were preparing for a verbal war with the Arch-Mage himself. Shaking my head, a little stupified, I turned back to Flacassia and dug out one of the stamped letters. She took it from me, looked it over, cast the cantrip to verify its authenticity (all guild-issued letters of such nature glow a little green if investigated for enchantments; they'll also suck all the strength right out of your muscles if your bare fingers touch one without having been properly identified by the initial mage who made it up--- an effective thief deterrent).
Flacassia took a small pouch from her belt, reached into a small metal chest in the corner of the atrium, and carefully counted out a small pile of coins.
"Here's your change; even the Telvanni accept Imperial gold. Now, if you're ready, please stand up top there, right between those torches."
I climbed the two steps, positioned myself as instructed, and turned to face her.
"Good. Iniel, my counterpart on the other side, was told to expect you. I assume you know the drill? Just close your eyes, hold your breath, and..."
My eyes shut, I could only hear the rustling of her robes as she cast the spell. Spots filled my vision for a moment, and suddenly the floor beneath my shoes felt different, and the light that passed through my eyelids was of a different quality.
I had made it to Wolverine Hall. My trip was just getting started.
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