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Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

A bitter old man gets tossed into the world of Tamriel, as a descendant of a religious madman no less, watch as he delves into the secrets of magic and explores the wonders of this danger-filled world, and with luck and a lot of magic juice possibly even beyond. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic (or anything for that matter). English is not my native language but I think there shouldn't be too many mistakes. The story will focus on magic and exploration with most likely a bit of romance later on. The upload schedule won't be rigid, but expect five chapters a week. If you want to support me financially and get access to early chapters visit patreon.com/Rastislav156

Rastislav · Video Games
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Chapter LXIII: The True Enemy Arrives

(General POV)

The day following Reyvin's slaying of the Reachman Chieftain and his cabal of witches passed with surprisingly little movement from their enemy. Small assaults were attempted by the most stubborn among them, but they were repelled with disdainful ease by the well practiced defenders.

"Or not all that surprising when you think about it" Reyvin lazily refutes Harald's assumption.

"I know you offed their leader, but after witnessing their insanity I am still surprised." Harald half-agrees "Their lot was always bloody mad, I am honestly surprised they let up"

Sybille who was up to that moment chatting with Elisif rolls her eyes "He killed their priests, you know the actual source of their courage?" she explains as if talking to a toddler "Without their faith being pushed by 'the blessed ones' they don't have the courage to strike again" She smirks "Some might have even lost faith at this point"

Harald grumbles to himself but nods in acceptance.

They fall into steady silence as everyone focuses on planning out their next move, the silence only interrupted by Gatecrasher impaling any Reachman unfortunate enough to be stationed as a lookout. Seeing heads get popped by oversized stakes looked like it would never get old... the same went for the lookouts Reyvin thought morbidly.

"We could raid their camp?" Harald ventures excitedly as if the idea just popped into his mind.

Reyvin immediately, and firmly, shakes his head "No, the one I interrogated briefly mentioned with utter certainty that more were on the way and could arrive at any moment. Better that we remain cautious and not get caught off guard as we are still vastly outnumbered."

"Boooooooring" The grown-ass bear of a man pouts like a child.

Elisif deadpans and smacks her father "People are dying you idiot!"

He blinks a couple of times "Wha-"

His daughter's tired and enraged glare stops any further protestation "Good" She smiles threateningly, sending a surprised shiver down her father's spine "The Court Mage obviously knows what he is talking about so please be a good Thane and actually listen."

Harald glares at Sybille who merely smiles and waves at him.

"I could terrorize them from here though" Reyvin mumbles.

Harald sighs "I know but magic is such an unsatisfying way to win."

Both mages give him mocking looks of pity and he wisely shuts his mouth.

"Oi Scorch" Reyvin calls out and a fiery bird appears atop one of the battlements.

"Yes pops?" The glorious hawk tilts its head.

"Go and give a warm parting gift to whatever leadership is left." Reyvin's smirk is all teeth as he gives the command.

"I shall spread my fiery goodness all over them, understood!" He bobs his head and flies off.

"Your bird gives me the creeps Flame-tongue" Harald shivers lightly as his eyes follow the spear of fire behind Scorch.

"It is said that a familiar is the reflection of their master's soul" Sybille informs the two nobles while smirking at Reyvin teasingly.

"They are technically tiny parts of our souls" Reyvin agrees with a nod, not caring one bit about the implications of his own lack of sanity, and turns to Sybille "Speaking off, you never told me if you had one?"

She shakes her head and points at her fangs while the other two are not looking "No, I never found a use for one."

'So vampires lose their familiars then? Some kind of tribute to their Daedra or does it go deeper than that? In any case, another reason for me not to turn into a bloodsucker. Scorch might be an asshole, but he is my asshole!'

"Such a shame" The elf drawls "They are incredibly useful if you spend the time to make them strong" As if to prove his statement an explosion of golden flames erupts from one of the larger tents in the enemy camp, consuming everything in a wide area.

He smirks as he sees Harald gape at the rising smoke "See, incredibly useful."

He shakes his head "They did use those blasted things in the war, I've just never seen one be able to do that."

"Well that is because you never faced a truly powerful mage" Reyvin explains and Harald raises an eyebrow in response "If you did, you would be long dead." The elf adds helpfully.

"How can you be so sure?" He grumbles "I could take the bastards!"

Reyvin scoffs "Warriors that can take on powerful mages are exceedingly rare, either through sheer talent or enchanted equipment" He gives Harald an apologetic smile "Unfortunately Thane I am afraid you do not find yourself counted among those warriors."

The Nord mutters expletives to himself but after seeing what the elf could do he could not really pretend he was wrong.

Ten minutes later a fiery bird leaves the walls once again.

And again.

And again.

Reyvin slurps some potent mead through a straw he found somewhere as he sits on the wall, his feet dangling freely, listening cheerfully to Scorch's gleeful descriptions of the surprised barbarians before they blew up.

Harald scowls "This doesn't feel honorable"

"Oh?" Reyvin turns to him with a smirk "Would you prefer to see your people die?"

"Fuck off Flame-tongue" Harald waves in frustration "You know damn well what I am talking about"

"Ah yes, the poor, civilized, honest, god-fearing Reachmen, I am so unfair to the thousands of generous visitors awaiting your hospitality" The mockery in the elf's voice was evident to even the rocks "Keep in mind however, that I am only able to do this due to their own lack of defenses. Such tactics are rarely viable."

Before Harald could respond, Reyvin shifted his eyes to the eastern entrance of the valley "It seems my agent was successful"

--------------------

(Reyvin's POV)

After greeting the mercenaries and explaining in no uncertain terms that any who broke discipline or decided they were here for anything but what I was paying them for would be used as alteration experiments, naturally all done under the full effect of my dread aura, I made my way to the group of Dunmer that decided to skulk under one of the towers.

I also noted, after a passing glace, that Davos seemed far more relaxed than before... Could it be he missed his friends, or did he finally break after meeting them?

My eyes meet with those of the mysterious 'boss' and I nod in greeting "I admit, I am surprised she sent you all the way here"

The boss shrugs without a care, completely relaxed under my calculating gaze "We do exist for a purpose you know, what use are we if we limit ourselves to Windhelm?"

"Fair enough" I agree easily, no point in questioning them too much, knowing who their patron is just means that any questions I asked would annoy me to no end. Better to make use of their skillset instead "Now, how good are you lot when it comes to infiltration?" I ask with a cruel grin.

A scoff of disdain is all the response I needed.

-------------------------

The following morning we once more find ourselves atop the walls, gazing at the enemy camp that seemed even more quiet than yesterday.

"Think they are preparing to surprise us?" Harald asks, almost pleadingly.

I shake my head "Nah, there will be no attack today."

"Why would you think that?" He narrows his eyes.

"Oh, they have far greater problems than us." I state, my posture completely relaxed.

(General POV, last night)

A group of twelve shrouded figures enters the Forsworn base without a sound, the moment they reach a certain point, they disperse without any input and begin their grim work.

Food is poisoned, drink befouled, chieftain's throats are slit, all in short order and without a single sound or without a single one being found out.

Yet most dangerous of all are the oddly shaped circles they carved in the ground, all hidden, and all awaiting their master's command.

The figures leave as they arrived, neither their allies or their foes knowing of their deeds.

(Back to Reyvin)

"I do believe they might all have come up with an unfortunate case of indigestion" I smirk at Harald.

He scoffs and goes back to organizing his men.

"You will lose all the favor you earned with him if you keep doing that" Sybille warns from nearby, her voice neither chiding nor mocking, merely stating a fact "That man is far too set in his ways, he might tolerate your magic because it keeps him alive, but if he suspects you are taking his chance for Sovengarde away he will cut all ties."

I roll my eyes and soundlessly sneak up behind her giving her a hug and eliciting a yelp "How very caring of you Syb" I whisper and she shivers lightly "But you know damn well I care not a tiny bit about the ignorance of Nords. My job is to kill the Reachmen, and I will do that job no matter the good Thane's opinion"

She looks away to hide a blush "I know that, I just thought you might want to know."

I chuckle "Don't worry about him, now since we have an entire d-"

The sound of a war horn interrupts my attempt at a good time.

Letting out an exasperated sigh I focus on the other entrance to the valley... and see thousands of Forsworn filtering out of it, their iron and steel armor gleaming in the sun, and the auras of their leaders clearly announcing that even I would have to be careful if I wanted to survive. At the back of the column of well over eight thousand Reachmen I also note golems made of flesh and what looked to be zombified sacrifices.

I tighten the hug for a second and whisper "Don't die" Before letting Sybille go and heading to find Harald and the captains.

Soon we are once again all standing atop the battlements of the gatehouse, with everyone looking far less confident than before.

"What can we even do against these kinds of numbers?" One of the captains asks warily.

I shrug "We need only survive for two more days, after that your work is done."

"Even two days against that is too much!" Another presses.

I guess it was time "Most of you know me by reputation, yes?" I ask suddenly, pulling everyone's focus to me.

"Aye" A tall brown haired man nods "You've become something of a folk legend 'round these parts" he looks back to the camp "Though I don't know if that will be enough."

A couple more sound their own agreements.

"So you have heard rumors of my abilities, yes?" More nods "Then I would like to demonstrate quite thoroughly why I think we do still stand a chance" I smirk and look to the enemy camp.

Many have already entered, interrogating the surviving leadership of the vanguard and the witches among them attempting to purify the tainted supplies with their paltry magic.

I await in silence for more to gather, watching their movements with complete focus while at the same time connecting my mind to the runes I had my agents place last night.

Soon the true leaders start entering, but one of the witches notices a rune and starts yelling something at the hags and chiefs already inside.

Unfortunate, but expected.

I raise a hand and turn back to MY men "This is why, my dear warriors, the only person to fear here... is ME!" And snap my fingers.

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Them runes need sum stones my boys.

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