» Sat Feb 19, 2011 8:07 am Prologue: The Simple Life
Prelude: To all who might deign to read this, my name is Kennendil, but please, call me Kenn. I am a student of Magicka at the Mages Guild and I am quite fond of my eyes, which share the color of my Altmer skin. I reside in a simple home in the city of Kvatch, leading a simple life of simple pleasures. Little did I know it, but my life was about to become anything but simple…
Bright and sunny out today, just another beautiful day in Kvatch, and the perfect weather for an early morning breakfast at The Wolf’s Head. There was nary a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone down with just enough heat so not to bake you and just enough light so not to blind you, it’s rays being caught by the gray cobblestone streets leading to granite buildings with vividly purple rooftops… there could be no more perfect morning in this mountaintop West Weald city. The publican of The Wolf’s Head, Brascentian Prava, greeted me warmly as I entered the inn, still just the same as it has been for the past 5 years since I first moved here from Aldmeris (you may know it instead as Summerset Isle). He was a middle aged Breton, and I had known him for almost as long as I had lived here. I ordered my usual breakfast of Anvil Rye and Cheydinhal Cheddar, and as I ate, my thoughts began to wander back to my first days in the Imperial Province….
I moved to Cyrodiil to further my magical education in a foreign country, a move my parents were vehemently opposed to (even now, they still refuse to write to me and I wouldn’t put it past them to have considered me disowned for the first couple of years. Probably just the pride, though, you know how Altmer can be sometimes) and perhaps further myself in the Imperial Guild of Mages. Much of my time nowadays is devoted to my Magical studies at the local guild chapter. About a month ago, the chapter head granted me a recommendation to the Arcane University for helping a local priest out of a rather tight squeeze (he seemed to have gotten himself on the wrong side of a couple of Clannfears, I don’t think I even want to know what he was trying to do). Everyone at the chapter is saying the time when I must continue my studies at the University in Cyrodiil City is fast approaching, and they are very likely right. I already have one recommendation, so over the last week I started to make my plans for a trip to Anvil for my second (I am planning to leave on the 26th), and that brings us to today, just another day in the life of a good-for-nothing Altmer mage-in-training.
After I finished breakfast, it was time for a little shopping. Brascentian was happy to provide me with some traveling provisions, so my next stop was at the Moonhowl Stables to rent a horse for the journey. While I was there, I also bought a map and marked a couple of Inns I knew of on the way to Anvil called Gottshaw and Brina Cross (I arrived in Cyrodiil through Anvil, which is one of the reasons I’m going there first, best to start a journey on familiar ground).
I was making my way to the local general store for traveling gear when I saw a familiar face approaching on patrol. It was Savlian Matius, Captain of the city guard. He gave me a quick nod as he passed, along with a “citizen” of acknowledgement. No rest for the weary. Savlian struck me as a man you could trust with your life; proud, loyal, unmatched with a blade, and very right about how dry and tedious life can be here from time to time (when he does speak at all, he’s not the most talkative person in the world). Despite being quite large, due to its location high atop a mountain, Kvatch is often rather disconnected with the rest of the land, and apart from my studies, shopping, and the chapel, there’s little to do here except watch a couple of idiots disembowel themselves “for your viewing pleasure.” Pah! I’d sooner sleep with my Guar than watch a fight in the Arena.
You know, sometimes I wonder why I chose to live here, of all places. There are plenty of resources for magical training and education back in Summerset, many of them far superior to the Arcane University, so why did I shun them and choose the latter? To this day, I still can’t answer this question, and I’ve constantly wondered if perhaps there might have been some kind of Divine Influence at work. Sounds like just the kind of question for my priest friend. I’ve been putting this off for long enough, anyway. I aimed my steps for the Chapel once I finished up at High Mountain Goods and Trade, carrying a brand new backpack, a traveling plate, a waterskin, and a couple of torches, along with a bedroll slung underneath.
Ilav Dralgoner, the gray-robed, balding priest chuckled when I asked, and his only reply before leaving me to my peace was: “My friend, everyone’s lives are connected to the Gods.”
You don’t say…. All right, I guess I’ll have to figure this out on my own then. Not that it matters that much to me, I never did like priests all that much. So, what could I attribute to the workings of some Divine entity? I guess maybe that I moved here at all? I dunno, the workings of fate always seem to escape me, never showing any rhyme or reason as to what happens or why. But then again, why should they? I’m not really special, sure I have great talents in magic, but then so does every other Altmer who walks this earth, and plenty of them are much better spellcasters than myself. Plus, such instruments as those oversized knives, hatchets, and mallets are utterly bamboozling to me.
Everyone has his or her shortcomings, and I am no different. Last time I tried fencing, I found myself on the floor with my weapon up a tree, and my face still burns with embarrassment whenever I reflect on that day. I’ve never touched another sword since then. One of the things often preached of during the Sundas sermon is to embrace our flaws, for they shall bring to us a greater understanding of what makes us who we are, and ultimately make us stronger for it. If a man were perfect and had all his heart desired, what reason would he have to live and what could he then strive for? Could I, perhaps, strive to become a better swordsman because I am appalling at it? No, I decided, I will not spitefully force myself down a road I know will do no good for me; I must follow my passions, for they will never lead me astray. Perhaps this was what Martin meant when he told me to look within myself for the deeper meaning to my life? Ugh… now I’m starting to sound like a priest. I’d better get out of this chapel before I start speaking in riddles the rest of the day.
The sun had already passed its zenith when I returned to the balmy weather outside. Since I didn’t want to lug my new knapsack around all day long, I made a quick trip home and quickly packed my coin purse and a change of clothes before leaving it beside my door so that I wouldn’t forget it on my way out. I thought I might just spend the rest of the day reading in the Guild library, or maybe bring a few books outside since the weather was so nice, so I made my way outside once again.
The next sight to meet my golden eyes as I left my home was an almighty ruckus; a huge crowd had formed in the high street, and guards were shoving their way through with swords drawn. What did I just miss? I forced my way through to the front of the crowd to find a grisly sight, an Imperial priest was lying dead in the street, blood pooling lazily over the cobblestones as another man stood over the corpse, his dagger still dripping onto the street, as well as his identically colored robes and fingers. He then turned, and upon seeing me, let out a scream enough to tear asunder the very heavens and lunged right for me.
The next thing I knew, he was lying at my feet with frost burns all over his face the top of his robes badly singed, and his body quite still. Savlian Matius was soon approaching me looking so ready to pounce he was nearly indistinguishable from a lion.
“It was self-defense, Officer! He charged me, I didn’t know what else to do!” That was the best excuse I had… hopefully it would be enough.
Miraculously, it was. The tension in Savlian’s muscles lessened and he sheathed his sword. “I know, citizen. I saw everything. Now, please stand aside, we need to get the bodies to the chapel for examination… and preparations be made for the burial.”
“Oh, and if you don’t mind me asking, who did he kill?” I don't know what caused me to ask this, I just felt that like it or not, I needed to know.
Savlian’s expression had become extremely grim as he turned to face me. Somehow, I doubted he would object answering me, about as much as I doubted I would like the news.
“It was Ilav Dralgoner’s Initiate, Brother Martin. May Akatosh rest his soul.”
