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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 · Videojogos
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Chapter XXXV: Legions Rivals and Preparations

After I managed to calm down a very pissed off Sybille and informed Davos and Marco that they are free for the day, at which point the young bard fell asleep then and there, forcing Davos to carry him off, we headed out toward Castle Dour.

As we were about to leave the palace we crossed paths with the King himself followed by Falk Firebeard and Bolgeir Bearclaw.

Torygg immediately perked up when he saw us "Ah good, I was hoping the two of you would join us." His eyes shifted to my own for a moment holding a hint of confusion within, but he quickly hid it.

How perceptive is this man?

Sybille sighed "As much as I don't like dealing with the common soldiery it is unquestionably wise to reach an understanding with the command structure if we are going to be trusting them to stand between us and the enemy."

I chuckle "I wouldn't put it in so many words but yes that is pretty much the case."

Torygg shakes his head "If only everyone could be so dismissive."

"If only you chose to become a mage instead of a monarch." I say faux-sadly "Woe is you."

Falk coughs forcefully and sends me a slight glare.

The King on the other hand merely joins me in my amusement "True, I should stop complaining." and claps his hands "Now, off to the castle!"

He starts walking off enthusiastically and we are all forced to run after him.

Castle Dour is very much built to fit its name, every corner is a kill zone, every ceiling a murder hole. Instead of the dozen or so soldiers I saw doing exercises when I first arrived, the courtyard was filled to the brim with proper Imperial legionaries wearing high quality steel armor and equipped with swords and shields. Most were Nords, but there were a couple of Mer and Bretons dispersed among them.

In front of every group of ten was a Decanus, wearing more ornate and lightly enchanted armor, but otherwise equipped in the same manner.

For every ten of them stood one Centurion, a plumed helmet decorating their heads and a respectable aura coming from their more individualistic gear.

And finally, above the five Centurii, there stood the Legate herself, Rikke if my memory serves. Even ignoring her enchanted ebony Imperial segmented plate I could practically feel the danger coming off the middle-aged woman, she would definitely snap me like a twig in a fight.

The moment the King stepped into the yard the legionaries moved as one and presented a pristine formation with everyone saluting.

Rikke stepped in front of her cohort and gave Torygg a shallow but respectful bow "King Torygg, the troops are ready for your inspection."

The young King's smile was just a bit strained as he said "Rikke, how many times must I tell you that there is no need for such formality."

The Legate smirks "And how many times must I tell you that the legion must always follow proper discipline or we will no longer be the mightiest force on Nirn."

"And how numerous is this mightiest force at the moment?" I ask hoping to speed the meet and greet along.

"If it isn't the new court mage himself." Rikke looks me over "Say... you look familiar."

I raise an eyebrow "I don't believe we have met ma'am."

She stares at me "No, I am quite certain I have seen you somewhere."

Guessing that she had known my father while he was still alive I roll my eyes "Why are you beating around the bush Legate?"

She huffs "It's called being polite, you could try it sometime brat."

I stare at her, dead in the eyes, and say with slow certainty "No."

She actually snorts at this "You really are Vyren's brat."

"In the flesh" I bow with an exaggerated flourish.

"A shame he went and got himself killed, he was a good soldier and a better commander." She shakes her head, but I sense a tinge of hidden fury.

I shrug "He chose to make the risk that led to his death, besides the last time I spoke with him he seemed content with his end."

Among those present only Sybille, Firebeard, and surprisingly Torygg seem to immediately get what I am talking about, while everyone else gives me weird looks and one of the Oricsh legionaries even takes an unsure step back, likely earning himself latrine duty if his Decanus' glare is anything to go by.

Rikke eyes me weirdly "What do you mea-" Then she makes an 'O' with her mouth and shakes her head "I never could get my head around Dunmeri rituals."

I merely smile, and Rikke turns to Sybille "Stentor" she says coldly "I see you managed to force yourself out of your tower today."

"Rikke." Sybille answers with just about the same amount of venom in her voice "How unpleasant it is to see you today."

It is at this moment that Falk, bless his heart, decides to get between two pissed-off women "While I am certain that the two of you have much to talk about, please do leave that for when the King is not present."

Both of them glare at the brave soul, but he doesn't even twitch and stares them down. After a tense silence they both back down and I sense just a smidge of smugness from the steward.

With a contented smile, he turns to Rikke "Now Legate, if you would answer the court mage's question about the troop count, that would be a good way to get started with the meeting."

She grunts "Of course Steward" then looks at me and explains "We are currently five hundred strong, all heavy infantry, with a force of fifty auxiliary scouts and ten elite spellswords."

"I am guessing that cavalry would be pretty useless where we are going."

She nods with a hint of approval in her eyes "Yes, we will mostly be engaging in ground assault combined with magical bombardment when possible."

I scratch my chin "There are going to be three of us, two Wizards and an Archmage so the bombardment idea should work." Remembering just who I am talking about I quickly add "Well that is if Savos doesn't have other plans."

"Yes, we were all quite relieved when we heard of Aren's participation." She agrees.

"Now what about..."

I proceed to ask an obnoxious amount of questions, and while it wasn't exactly necessary we did notice some discrepancies in the supply organization and marching order that were corrected thanks to me being annoyingly meticulous which earned me some respect from the local soldiery.

After the meet and greet was done Rikke invited me over for a drink with the officers and she regaled me with stories of my father's achievements, and if even half of them were true my father was a certified badass.

She also made me retell some of my own battles and adventures, seeing as my name was known even here among certain circles. She seemed rather impressed and lamented that I didn't join the legion to which I simply replied the same way I did to Tiberius or my father when they suggested it.

It just wasn't worth it.

The legionaries grumbled but most showed understanding of my views.

I left the senior Legate in good cheer and returned to the tower.

Sybille seemed inordinately pissed that I decided to spend time with her 'rival' or whatever it is they considered themselves "What were you doing with that hag for so long?"

"Really Sybille?" I ask in exasperation "Even if it was any of your business, and let me make it clear that it isn't" I notice the tiniest flinch "The woman just wanted to talk to me about my father and his soldiering days, why are the two of you so pissy at each other anyway?"

She seems just about to snap at me but catches herself and simply slumps deeper into the armchair I found her sitting in "We grew up together." She says quietly after a tense silence "We were always in competition with each other, but that wasn't what made me hate her."

Sybille levitates a small bottle of 'wine' from somewhere and takes a long swig "No, that started when she found out I became a vampire thirty years ago."

"She found out that quickly?" I ask with some surprise.

She nods "Yes, we were good friends then, god enough that she noticed the changes almost immediately... After I was found out she blackmailed me into using my new power for 'good' lest she inform the vigil of Stendarr."

"Cruel." I say slowly "But unsurprising... you do realize she was quite merciful don't you?"

"Yes." she forces out "She was, and I still hate her for it."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" She snaps "Tell me, why do you pursue magic?"

Oh? "That is a rather odd segue but I do so so I can be truly free."

She gets up "Exactly! And that witch denied me my freedom!"

"And are you saying that your current position is not to your liking?"

"It is" She sighs "But I feel as if a noose is around my neck all the time."

"Why not simply leave for the college?" I ask.

"That would be just another prison, just one of my own making."

"Fair enough, I also left it because it was starting to feel suffocating." I agree truthfully and decide to try and cheer her up "I can't really help you with the Legate but I could cook us up something if you are interested?" I ask with a smile.

"Fiiiine" she rolls her eyes playfully "Anything to get my mind off the bitch."

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(timeskip)

The following two days were spent in a rush of preparations, I no longer had the time to waste training up Marco and Davos so they were left to their own devices.

Marco grumbled about not being allowed to join the fight this time, but this was an actual battle and he would just be in the way unfortunately. He did promise to write a song for our victory which is something I will hold him to.

Davos spent his time getting his gear in order and stocking up on enchanted bolts and scrolls, he would be my shadow in the fight as always.

Sybille didn't leave her room at all, and if the aura coming out was an indicator she was going through multiple rituals in preparation. I just hope she didn't make a mistake in the rush.

As for myself I was focusing on mastering the next level of solar magic and helping Sorch master his own new abilities.

I did visit Winterhold again to grab some materials for a ritual of my own, and I also brought a spider worker with me... just in case I needed something expendable for a cunning plan.

The ritual I prepared was one of general Magicka infusion and was of a more mild nature than my previous one, it included sacrificing a varla stone, a rather rare and not to mention considerably pricy item containing crystalized Magicka, meant to enhance one's reserves.

The reason I didn't do it earlier is that I wanted to grow my reserves more naturally as forcing them to expand repeatedly would just make my spellcasting a complete mess for far too long.

This time it was a far more pleasant experience, thank all the gods, and felt like a long soothing bath instead of the monstrous itch that was the saber cat infusion.

About the same time I was finished with that I also managed to rapidly cast a solar cloak and a solar burst, making my restoration touch upon the realm of an expert.

The morning of our march came soon after, before I left to pick Sybille up I decided to check my progress.

[Str: 15 => 16]

[Dex: 16.5 => 17]

[Mind: 23 => 25]

[Mag: 300 => 350]

[Restoration adept => expert: +suncloak, sunburst]

[Enchantment expert: +scroll inscription, seamless runic inscription]

Watching numbers go up was as satisfying as always, now if only I could gut Potema and her goons without getting possessed by Meridia...

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Bippity boppity bone, you must now give me your stone.

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