Act I: Chapter 3

Hello everyone,

We're back with another chapter, and one I am happy with. I have a good feeling about where the story is going, and how we're going to get there. I guess I should stop being surprised about the support from you guys too, y'all are just the best.

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On to the chapter! Authors note at the bottom.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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The marketplace is bustling today.

The morning started off as any of his previous had. Wake up, eat a protein packed breakfast, train with the men, and go on duty.

Hopefully my afternoon will be filled by continuing my magickal practice. I thought as I practiced meditation, flexing my magick.

Already, my magick had nearly doubled in size in the week that I had been practicing. Not nearly enough to be considered a battlemage, but enough that I considered my growth more than normal.

'Maybe it's the fact that I do it subconsciously now.' I considered as my magic flexed with meditation, in rhythm with my breathing.

"Marketplace is unusually crowded today." Bjorn said at my side.

We stood off to the side of a stall in the marketplace. Our eyes roamed over the crowds the entire time. And it was a significant crowd. Once again I was amazed at how scaled up the world seemed to be from the games.

The marketplace spanned at least three blocks, and merchants from all over had rented stalls to show their wares from all over Tamriel. Most traveled from High Rock, and their fashion mirrored this, but another significant portion came from Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. The most popular stalls were the ones selling foreign clothes, showing off the different styles of the 'states' of Tamriel.

The next most popular were the food vendors, then the weaponsmiths. The least popular were the stalls which had a magical nature to them. At least three different merchants had stalls full of enchanted weapons, daggers mostly, books on magic, and enchanted jewelry respectively. While the weapons drew a decent crowd, the others had maybe twenty customers a day and most of those were nordic children curious about the art their parents warned them so much of.

"Aye, I considered sending for more guards." I answered Bjorn but not looking at him.

Bjorn tensed as if he saw something suspicious. "Damn, kid got the purse." Bjorn commented and I looked to see a black haired boy, nearly a young man, walking quickly in our direction. "You want it?" He asked.

I nodded and stepped forward, turning my head the opposite direction as the boy so as not to spook him. He never saw me, instead his mind was busy stuffing the purse he had just cut into his pants.

I took a step forward just as he neared and grabbed his shoulder. I felt him tense under me and his head whipped towards me. We met eyes and my grip tightened enough to let him know I meant business.

The boy's eyes glanced around my body, taking my uniform. He paled and I could see he was making the decision to bolt. I quickly called my magic to my skin and put my mind in a state of controlled calm. Then, with a pulse of magic in all directions, I projected the emotion.

The illusion spell took hold, not only on the boy, but the people around me.

"Give it here, and we can forget about it." I spoke before the spell could wear off and he made a bad decision.

He gulped and his eyes flitted all around him. I could see the internal struggle in his eyes. Once again I tightened my grip on him. The boy still couldn't meet my eyes but eventually he nodded at me and reached inside his pants to retrieve the stolen purse. I tensed, prepared for the dagger that he inevitably had hidden on him.

His hand produced the coin purse and I thanked Talos that he made the right decision. I swiped it.

"Hold here for a moment." I told him and his eyes panicked again. Once again I cast the calm spell with a burst of my magic. Once again it took hold as my hand dipped into the purse and pulled out three septims, enough to feed his family for a week. I dropped them into his outstretched hand and turned around at the same time, pretending not to see him. He darted away quickly.

Seven steps brought me back to my post beside Bjorn. I held the purse out to him, as he had seen the man it belonged to. "Return it." I ordered, leaving no room for argument. "Tell him he is short three septims."

Where once, earlier in the week, Bjorn would have taken offense at the order, he grabbed the purse with a smile. It was amazing how much teaching the men everyday had put me in a place of leadership. I was careful who I ordered around, making sure I had rank. I suspected that all of the men who knew me would obey regardless of rank.

Bjorn chuckled. "That'll teach him to leave it hanging so carelessly. Must be a Silver-blood." He commented as he walked off.

'I should've given the boy more if he is a Silver-Blood.' I thought to myself and my eyes started scanning the crowd.

My eyes locked onto a woman, obviously nordic, approaching a known Silver-Blood merchant. She had red hair that was cut stylishly around her shoulders and a build that told me she was raised as a traditional nord. She stood around five-eleven, maybe six foot and the way she walked spoke of martial training. She leaned over the table in front of her to speak to the merchant.

Next my eyes were drawn to a man, on the opposite side of the market. He was dressed in a white tunic, and dark brown breeches. He had a sword on his waist. While this was not uncommon, in fact it was more common than not, my gut told me to be on guard. He was staring straight at the red-haired woman, and making a bee-line through the crowd to her.

I started moving immediately, weaving through the crowd, and forcing myself through when people wouldn't move. Most took offense until they noticed the uniform. Normally I wouldn't lord my position over people, but my gut told me to make it to the woman before he did.

Luckily I was closer to the woman than he was and reached a crowd of people close to her and waited. I blended into the crowd. I didn't need to, as he took notice of nothing else but the woman's back.

At ten paces from her, his hand reached for his sword and started the motion of drawing it. I did the same and drew my own in a fluid motion, quicker than his own draw. Then I moved forward.

At five paces he bellowed out. "The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!!"

The woman turned to him, startled at the proclamation. Then he started the motion for a thrust, aimed at her heart.

I never let him get close to her. I impacted his right side and a couple of things happened at the same time. My left hand, the one without my sword, grabbed his thrusting wrist, stopping it dead. My left leg came up and I kicked his feet out from beneath him while twisting his arm around, to help him get to the ground faster.

The man yelped in pain as I got close to snapping his wrist before his body obeyed and fell with the twisting motion. Then I was on top of him as he laid on the ground, with my knee putting pressure on his neck. I considered killing him then, but a distant memory in the back of my mind remembered this being fairly important in the games.

I whipped him in the temple with the butt of my sword before he could even realize what was going on. He crumpled, unconscious. His sword clattered on the ground as his hand went limp. I wasted no time rolling him over onto his stomach and wrenching his arms behind his back so that I could put shackles on him.

By the time I did this and stood up, Bjorn and the blonde-haired Finn approached, brought by the commotion. They had their hands on their swords, but didn't draw them seeing I didn't need it.

"Take him to the cells for interrogation." I commanded.

I looked past them to see the crowd of people huddled around our scuffle. I called up a bigger portion of my magic and cast the biggest calm I could. The best thing about low-tiered illusion magic was that it didn't have any signs of it being casted, unless you could sense magic. The wave of magic spread from my body to the crowd of onlookers.

"Everything is fine here, folks. Go back to your business." I yelled out to them.

Most obeyed, although I saw a few people giving me and the man on the ground some stares.

"Excuse me, sir." I heard a feminine voice say behind me. I turned to face the woman whose life I had just saved.

"Yes?" I asked. She had a different shade of red in her head than I did. Hers was the typical ginger look, although it was tamed to fall straight down to her shoulders. Her eyes were sky blue, and freckles sprinkled her face. She was surprisingly attractive, not as striking as Ariella was, but that was a whole different type of beauty.

"That man almost killed me. You saved my life." She said, obviously a little in shock.

I smiled at her, trying to calm her. "All in a day's work, ma'am." I told her as I stepped forward. "Are you ok? You seem to be in shock."

She barely had to look up at me, unlike most other women. She started to say something, but she struggled before getting it out. "I think you may be right." She raised her hand up and it visibly shook in the air.

I started to reach for it before I paused. "May I?" I asked.

The earlier wave of calm must not have affected her. Why? Did the shock override my spell? Was it too far away? I analyzed hoping to test it a little further.

She nodded and I grabbed it sending a much stronger wave of calm through her body. It took effect immediately and she yanked her hand back, reflexively.

"Sorry." I said, noticing her reaction. "Just trying to help."

She shook her head once she realized her reaction. "No it's fine, I needed that." Her voice was much more firm and assured now that she was calm.

'This might be my favorite spell'. I pondered.

"I should have warned you. We are suspicious people." I said trying to comment on our shared heritage.

"Yes, exactly." The woman spoke and I noticed that she must have been from a well off family because of her proper speech. "I'm Margret."

"Hadvar." I greeted with a nod. Then I realized that I should be getting back to my post. "I should leave you to your business, and I have more work to do."

"More women to save? Here I thought I was special." Margret quipped.

I laughed. "If only I could be so lucky." I told her as I turned to leave on the clever comeback.

"Wait!" She barked. I turned back around and her hands were around her neck, untying a necklace from her neck. "Take this, please."

The part of me that was not a nord wanted to deny her, but I knew tradition dictated that it would be rude to do so. Especially from one of the opposite sex. The only time it was appropriate was for people of obviously higher station than oneself, such as a Jarl.

"This is too much." I commented as I bent my head down so that she could clasp it around my neck.

Her arms reached around me and she got a little closer than was needed to complete the task. I was not complaining, considering my eyes found her cleavage because of the angle. She must have noticed because she leaned into my ear. "Silver-Blood inn, second floor, fourth door on the left." She said with a smile on her face, then she turned around and started talking to the merchant again.

'A nord through and through.' I thought a little dumbfounded at her offer. 'Nord women go after what they want.'

I turned around, conceding that she won our little bout of flirting. I was about to walk off when I noticed that the attacker's sword was still laying on the ground. I reached down and picked it up not wanting some kid to grab it and get hurt. My hand touched the hilt and I immediately knew it was different, it was warm to the touch.

My magick reached out to it instinctively, and I fed magic to it. Small symbols appeared near the base of the sword and ran up the length of the blade straight down the middle. The first rune I recognized.

'Fire'

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"Well, I can tell you that it is actually steel, not iron." The rough orc told me as he eyed the blade. He went by the name of Moth gro-Bagol, or Moth for short. He was the lead imperial blacksmith for the whole city, and had at least five apprentices beneath him running around the blacksmiths shop.

"It is shaped as an imperial sword." I commented, as if that was all the explanation anyone needed for it being iron. That's how it was in the games, right?

"And?" Moth grumbled. "I've seen imperial swords made out of ebony before, or have you never met General Tullius?"

A part of me wanted to slap myself for the obvious answer. The designs were only based on culture, and while steel did shape into certain designs better, it didn't mean that it was stuck to that design.

"Of course, you're right. My uncle would be ashamed of my education on the matter." I commented. "He was the town blacksmith where I grew up. Never made a lot of swords, however."

"Small town?" Moth asked.

"Yes." I said simply.

"Needs horseshoes and nails more than it does swords." Moth nodded to me, making sense of the situation. "What did you say your name was?"

"Hadvar."

"You the one training the boys up every morning?" Moth asked bluntly.

"Yes sir." My answers kept being short.

Moth barked out a laugh. "Got our prissy Captain embarrassed in front of the Jarl. I'm glad. Word is you know your way around the sword, soldier."

I heard the question hidden at the end of that sentence and decided to humor him since he was doing me a solid with the evaluation of the sword.

"Aye, my uncle may not have made many swords, but that doesn't mean he didn't know his way around one. He taught me the basics, which I mastered long before I enlisted. Learned everything else I knew from soldiers and whoever else had a sword on their waist that passed through Riverwood. Practiced nearly everyday, and honed my skills." I finished, knowing he could fill in the blanks.

Moth nodded in understanding before taking one last look at the blade in his hands. He handed it back to me.

"Well, take good care of it. You were the one to take the man down, no one would bat an eye at it in your sheath." Moth told me.

"Thank you. I'll leave you to it, if you need anything, let me know." I said turning away and heading out of the sweltering room.

"Before you go. I don't have to tell you the significance of someone like him having such a nice, expensive sword do I? They may come looking for it." Moth commented.

I, of course, had already made this connection and just nodded to my head as I walked out towards my next destination.

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The library was, wisely, on the opposite side of Understone Keep as the blacksmiths shop. I still didn't know how the imperial legion had managed to convince Igmund to allow their blacksmith to take up shop in the old dwemer forge. I knew that the orc must be worth his salt if he was given such a position. It was possibly the most coveted blacksmith's forge in Skyrim, right beside the SkyForge in Whiterun.

The guards nodded at me, used to my presence in the library, as I walked past them. No words were spoken between us, but there was still a camaraderie that went unspoken between us.

I walked into the room and found that it was occupied by two other people. Ariella and Calcelmo, who were having a hushed conversation.

"You will need to be careful around him." Calcelmo said just as I walked in.

Ariella's eyes found mine and Calcelmo followed her gaze to me. Where his gaze was normally dismissive and condescending, this time it was contemplative and almost accepting. Ariella's eyes gave nothing away to what she thought of me.

"Sorry." I began. "Pretend I'm not here." I told them as I walked past them into the library's rows. I quickly found the books I was looking for. A book each on illusion, alteration, and restoration.

Everyday I have picked up the same book on restoration, and I had yet to get to actually reading it. Today I was determined to learn and take notes about each of the beginnings of the different schools of magic that I picked.

I quickly found my seat and opened the book about restoration. I flipped through the pages, uninterested in the introduction, and found the first chapter.

"The first thing that should be noted about Restoration is that it is single handedly the hardest of the schools to learn. Not because of difficulty in manipulating the magic into healing properties, but rather the knowledge one must know of biology, on top of the act of actually casting the healing magic."

"Can you stop that for one moment?!"

I looked up from my book and saw both Calcelmo and Ariella looking at me with frowns. 'What are they talking about?' I wondered.

"Stop what?" I asked.

"The meditation. Those of us with magickal senses can feel you, and it is very distracting." Ariella answered for the old wizard.

Oh. I realized and to my happiness I had to make a conscious effort not to use the method of growing my magic. I stopped the constant flow like asked.

"Sorry, it's become second nature." I commented going back to my book.

"How long have you been doing that?" Calcelmo's quick voice said, obviously angered.

"Since I left the first day." I answered him truthfully. "Why?"

Calcelmo looked at me and his anger dropped, instead becoming inquisitive. "You shouldn't be able to do it for so long a time. We kept waiting for your reserves to run out before we said something."

"I can keep it up pretty much all day, although I'll stop for a few moments if my reserves get too low." I told him, becoming confused. "Is that normal?"

"It depends." Ariella answered. "I think he might be doing it differently. Normally it is much more powerful of a discharge, his felt small, controlled." She spoke to Calcelmo, speaking as if I wasn't even here.

"How are you doing it?" Calcelmo asked, addressing me directly.

"I compare it to breathing, just as it says. I release a small amount, exhale, most of the time not even five percent of my total reserves. Then I bring in the same amount, inhale, from the environment." I told him after a moment.

I did not see the big deal. 'Isn't this how everyone does it?'

"Ah yes that makes sense. The book tells you to release all of it at once, does it not?" Calcelmo asked, taking on a teaching tone of voice.

'Oh now it makes sense.' I thought to myself about Ariella's comments earlier.

"Yes but it also likens it to a muscle, yes?" I asked him back. At his nod I continued. "So wouldn't it make sense to maximize the repetitions? It is the same concept as swinging a sword, you want the muscle memory of the movements. Since the sword does all the work, you don't actually need a lot of strength to get the intended effect. So you start slow and without too much strength, letting the blade cut. Eventually you will learn when and where to add more power or less in the movements."

As I was speaking, both of them started moving to my table and wound up sitting across from me. Calcelmo rested his arms on the table and folded his hands in front of his mouth, contemplative.

"What a fascinating way to look at it. And one only a soldier can come up with." Calcelmo commented to the two of us.

"And it would promote control, while also building up power." Ariella added on with a tilt of her head. "How have we not realized this?"

"I think we have, we just didn't care. When did you learn the technique?" Calcelmo asked her.

"I couldn't have been older than eleven." Ariella answered quickly.

'Eleven? She learned that early?! I've got a long way to go.' I thought, shocked by the information.

"I might have been a little older than that." Calcelmo agreed. "Then it was all about power, and control could come later. That has always been the approach, traditionally. Then there are other exercises to promote control." Calcelmo finished.

"So it's not necessarily better?" Ariella curiously asked, turning fully to the old wizard.

"I would say that it depends on the user. It would not be better at all if Hadvar here didn't do it all day. Only someone with the sufficient motivation and discipline could do it non-stop like that. While draining his reserves would make them grow faster, he would lose control. Yet he makes up with the difference in growth with doing it so often." Calcelmo answered her, showing why he was the more experienced user of magick.

'Yea, I have plenty of motivation and discipline with the end of the world approaching, civil war threatening to tear my homeland apart, and the pure shit show that is the Imperial Legion.' I thought to myself.

A pulse of magic spread through the room. I knew it was magick immediately because of my newfound familiarity with my own magick. In the second that I noticed it, I realized a couple of things. One, was that the pulse of magick was massive, dwarfing my own reserves. Two, was that it would take me years to reach that same level.

My face must have shown my concern because they took notice.

"Sorry, I wanted to test it." Ariella said nonchalantly. "I still need to work on control. That was about half."

'Half?!'

"Oh don't look so flabbergasted. Breton's are known for their magick. And Ariella here is a prodigy." Calcelmo said. "Her reserves are already bigger than my own."

Ariella didn't even have the decency to blush, instead she looked smug. "Yes well, I still have a long way to go."

"And that is precisely why old Savos Aren has offered you the position." Calcelmo praised.

"You're to be the new Archmage?" I asked, catching on to the conversation.

They turned to me. "You know who Savos Aren is?" Ariella asked.

I tried not to take offense to that. "I would like to think that I am not an idiot."

Ariella actually looked a bit ashamed then. "Yes, it appears that I judged you based on your inheritance, for that I apologize."

Calcelmo cut in. "I also think I owe you an apology. I intentionally embarrassed you the other day, convinced I might be able to chase you off."

I was surprised at their change in demeanors, just from a simple conversation. When I walked into the room, I was met with contempt, now they had a modicum of respect in their eyes for me. It actually made me a little uncomfortable for a moment before pride overtook it.

"Accepted. It just gave me more motivation to prove you wrong, something I still intend to do." I accepted their apology.

Smiles tugged at the edges of their mouths.

"Good. I will be taking over the role of Master Enchantress from Surgius Turrianus, not archmage." Ariella answered my earlier question.

"Although I keep telling her that she will be groomed for the role when the time comes." Calcelmo interrupted.

"Wow, congratulations." I said genuinely. Ariella smiled at me, and I was once again reminded of her otherworldly beauty. She would give supermodels from my other life a run for their money, and it was all natural.

A young man came running into the room, he wore robes signifying his position as an apprentice to Calcelmo.

"Master, the ambassador is here." The young man said with a bow.

Another voice echoed through the halls of the library, one that was eerily familiar. "Yes, I am." It said just as a high elf form walked through the doorway. The high elf had on the robes of a Thalmor operator. The robes of black and yellow were pristine and made of a quality that I envied immediately. Say what you will about them, but their robes were clean.

"Hello, Ancano."

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'Silver-Blood Inn'

I looked up at the sign and was impressed at the actual size of the inn. It had to be six stories tall, with the bottom floor blossoming out to hold the actual bar and other things needed for the upkeep of the high-class building. There were private guards stationed outside of the inn, ones that looked better served as bandits than anything.

I walked in confidently, not sparing them a glance. They stared me down but didn't dare stop me from entering. My station offered me many privileges, and while I had no doubt that the Silver-Bloods had the pull to stop me, they wouldn't unless provoked.

I walked in to the smell of smoke and mead, something that reminded me of my old life. The inn was of the highest class in all of Skyrim, I was sure none could top it. It made sense, considering the money backing it. I noticed I was underdressed but didn't let my face or body show any signs of uncomfortability.

My eyes tracked the room, taking in its participants. To my displeasure, my captain sat at a table near the back of the room, next to a man I didn't know. He had a dark-elf girl sitting on his lap, she couldn't have been more than sixteen.

'He just might die at my hands.' I thought as he lost the rest of the respect I had for him. 'Right after I take his title.'

I nodded to him, and he nodded back. We were both off duty, and while I should have gone to talk to him to explain my presence and show respect, I didn't and saw he didn't want me to either.

I saw the reason I was here sitting alone at the bar, her head in one hand and mead in the other. I walked straight up to her and grabbed the seat next to her.

"Two more." I said to the bartender slapping down payment plus tip. Always pay your bartender well.

"Listen, bud…" Margret started to deny me out of habit, obviously used to denying suiters before seeing who it was. A smile split her face, one I couldn't help but mirror.

"Fancy seeing you here.."

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A/N: Chapter 3 done!

I feel like the chapters I write are slowly increasing in word count the more practice I get. What does everything think about it? Is it the quality increasing, or something else?

So a lot of people will recognize the quest that was 'started' when Hadvar saved Margret. I will just say that things will go down differently than in the games, mainly because this is a realistic take on it. It will also have way more reaching consequences.

So we got some more backstory on Ariella. We also went over some magickal theory. What did we think about it, make sense? Don't like it?

Also, Ancano! The bastard makes an appearance, why is he in Markarth? Easy answer but it will come next chapter.

What do we think? Let's talk about it in the reviews!