"Stand strong, Dragonborn," Arngeir smiled as he rested a wrinkled hand on Staid's shoulder. The boy returned the smile hesitantly, though even he couldn't hide the worry that fell over him as he faced the prospect of bearing the full might of the Greybeards' Voices. "You are young but it is easy to see you possess the will of a dragon. Fear not."

"I'm ready," Staid breathed. Arngeir released him and he walked to the center of the circle of Greybeards, meeting each of their eyes in turn. They were all smiling.

He scarcely had time to prepare himself before it began.

"LINGRAH KROSIS SARAAN STRUNDU'UL, VOTH NID BALAAN KLOV PRAAN NAU."

Staid staggered under the might of their Voices and his body felt as though it would tear apart but he remained standing. He controlled his breath as best he could, ignoring the pain as his vision started to fade to black.

His mind fell into a frenzy as he stood straight as he could, still breathing in and out. It was all he could do. Should he lose his composure he would be destroyed.

The floor finally ceased its shaking, though the moment High Hrothgar's shudders faded the Tongues spoke again.

"NAAL THU'UMU MU OFAN NII NU, DOVAHKIIN, NALL SULEYK DO KAAN, NAAL SULEYK DO SHOR, AHRK NAAL SULEYK DO ATMORASEWUTH."

Staid squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply as he was buffeted yet again by force capable of tearing down a fortress. The Voices of the Greybeards were mighty indeed…his body would be sore and bruised by the next morning.

Just as the terrible waves of force that would smear him all across the floor were they not balanced by an opposing wave and Staid's own will stilled they began anew.

"MEYZ NU YSMIR, DOVAHSEBROM. DAHMAAN DAR ROK."

It was over. Staid's limbs failed him and he collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily. His vision returned slowly, though he stopped paying attention when he felt a strong, armored hand grasp him and support his enfeebled body as he rose hesitantly on a shaking leg.

"My Thane, are you well?" Lydia's worried voice broke through his ringing ears. Staid nodded hesitantly and rubbed his temples. He was glad Arngeir had made Lydia leave the room…she would not have been able to hold herself against that power.

"You did well, Dragonborn," Arngeir said before him. Staid could only see a blurry shape in dark robes. "Do not worry, the effects will fade in time. How do you feel?"

"Like my whole body was just crushed by a hammer," he rasped. Staid finally rose of his own accord and Lydia quickly stationed herself behind him. "What did you say? I understood parts – the Stormcrown, in our breath, in the name of Kyne and Shor, and Atmora."

Arngeir smiled. "Ah, I forgot you have not truly mastered the dragon tongue as we have. An easy mistake to make given your talent with the Voice. But you are learning."

The Greybeard closed his eyes. "Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it."

Staid nodded, the words finally opening themselves to his comprehension. He just needed help remembering, much like with his Thu'um. "Ysmir, the Dragon of the North…"

"We spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance," Arngeir's eyes finally opened. He sent Staid a sly smile. "The same words were used to greet Talos when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim."

The Dragonborn didn't know what to say to that, the enormity of this legacy crashing down upon him like an avalanche. He was treading the same path as Tiber Septim, the harbinger of the Third Era, the forefather of kings, a man so powerful he ascended to godhood upon his death.

"Rest now," Arngeir said sympathetically. "It must be a lot to take in and your body will be weary after the strain of our Voices. Should you have further questions we will be more than happy to answer them."

"Wait!"

Arngeir turned, curious. Staid met his eyes. "Can you teach me anything else before we leave? I need everything I can to help me fight the dragons."

The Greybeard pursed his lips. "You have learned much already, Dragonborn. It is dangerous to grow your Voice too quickly, even for one of the Dragon Blood. Temper your Voice with experience and we will speak of this matter when you return to High Hrothgar."

Staid frowned though he accepted the Greybeard's advice. They were the Masters of the Voice…he wouldn't test them on this. Though he couldn't stem the frustration he felt Staid was more than aware that there was wisdom in Arngeir's words.

Since he had absorbed Sahloknir he'd felt different. Powerful, but different. His Voice was far stronger than before but he knew that he had paid for it. Now it was wild. When he spoke everyone listened. The world trembled ever so slightly.

He would have to fix that. It would be difficult but he knew he could regain the control he'd lost. It was just a matter of experience…or so he hoped. Though he could not shake all of Skyrim like the Greybeards it would be best to ensure he could control himself before he reached that level.

With all the dragons about it might happen sooner than expected, he thought grimly.

"Come Lydia," he said, exhausted. "I need to rest."

She nodded and immediately came forward, though he waved off her support. For now. He wasn't quite so decrepit that he couldn't even walk though he imagined the walk down to Ivarstead in the morning would be miserable.

He grimaced. Even his Restoration magic wouldn't make that any better.

XX

"Staid Stormcrown," he murmured to himself as he and Lydia walked through the forest of the Rift. It was peaceful here and he certainly knew what route he'd be taking to Whiterun in the future. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"It does," his Housecarl agreed readily. Staid turned to eye her. She'd been even more respectful than she normally was since High Hrothgar. "What is it, my Thane?"

Staid snorted. "Nothing. Just admiring the scenery."

Lydia rolled her eyes. He just smirked. That was more like it. "You've spent too much time with Mikael."

"Never!" The Dragonborn laughed. He ignored the dust kicked up by it. Just one of the annoyances of his powers. "I just seek to learn his ways. He's my master as much as the Greybeards."

His Housecarl actually grimaced at that and he snorted again. "Please, don't even joke about that. The thought of that bard having any influence on you is appalling."

"He just wants to be remembered in the songs as the Dragonborn's greatest confidant," Staid smirked. "Nothing wrong with that. Or do you just not like the competition?"

"Naturally," she drawled. "I cannot compete with Mikael for your affection. As your Housecarl it's my duty to ensure all of Skyrim knows your preferences."

Staid raised a dark eyebrow. "Now, now, Lydia. There's no need for that. You know you'll always be my favorite. No reason to be jealous."

Despite herself Lydia favored him with a smile. "I'll keep that in mind, my Thane."

"Do that. By the way, I'm going to start practicing Conjuration. Don't worry if my Atronach throws a fireball at me…I just like to think of it as her giving me some more opportunities to practice Restoration."

XX

If it weren't for his ability to heat himself with his magic the trek through the mountains separating the Rift and Falkreath Hold would've been miserable.

As it was he just had to keep an eye on Lydia and make sure she didn't freeze to death. He'd actually had to give her his mage robes to keep her going. Lydia was too damn stubborn to accept anything else – honestly, why did Nords have to be so blockheaded? It wasn't like Staid was in any danger of falling to the cold. Magic was ever so useful at times.

Scratch that, magic was useful all the time. He really didn't get how the Nords had survived their damnable winters without a handy Flames spell. Skyrim was quite possibly the most inhospitable place imaginable. Even Lydia, a proud Nord, couldn't handle this freezing mountain pass very well.

"Do you know how much longer we have?" Staid directed to Lydia. He knew they had at least a few hours of treading through these mountain passes but he was more concerned about breaking Lydia's silence. It was disconcerting. If she kept it up he was going to forcefully heat her up.

She looked up with bleary eyes. "I believe we have – watch out!"

Staid had just enough time to turn and see a figure cloaked in heavy black robes hiss in frustration and back off with its raised sword, which glittered naked even in the dim light of the dying day. He reflexively hurled a fireball at it, though the person quickly erected a ward to stop it.

He grimaced and backed off warily. Great, a mage that knew what they were doing. This wouldn't be fun. He was strong but he wasn't so sure how long he'd last in a battle of attrition. His reserves were almost full but without his mage robes he'd be slightly handicapped.

"Lydia, bow!" He growled as he raised his staff with one hand. Lightning surged from it as he shot a mighty burst that thundered through the sky before exploding on its almost-target, though their attacker nimbly dodged out of the way with inhuman grace. They quickly blasted him with a stream of bloody red energy that sapped his strength worryingly quickly, though it cut off alongside a pained scream as one of Lydia's arrows struck it in the stomach.

"Keep firing!" Staid ordered his Housecarl as he clenched his fist and twisted the cords of magicka within him in a familiar way. Moments later the mountain pass grew warm and the lightly falling snow was banished as a fierce fire raged around a slim, feminine figure.

The Flame Atronach waved to him – he returned it quickly – before he pointed at the black-robed figure that had begun to flee and willed his summoned ally to stop it.

It was no match at all. His atronach casually did a little flip and hurled a fireball straight into the figure's back as it ran, prompting an agonized scream that sounded more like the furious yowls of a cat than anything human. The man summoned a ward that stopped the next fireball but Staid quickly pierced it with a blast from his staff that left the man twitching.

Fortunately for their attacker his atronach was fairly merciful and ended it with another fireball.

"Thanks for your help," he smiled at the atronach. It nodded back before he dismissed it with a gesture. Daedra might be alien, inhuman beings but he figured at the very least he could try to be polite. Now that he'd mastered the spell after long hours of practice he could reliably summon the same atronach. It was fairly even-tempered and reliable, though he had no doubt it would turn on him in a second if it thought it would help it.

"Are you okay?" Staid asked Lydia, ignoring the slight trembling in his own limbs. A quick burst of restorative energies into his own body – it was always easier healing yourself – wiped that away.

"I'm fine," Lydia nodded as she put her bow away. "Our attacker must have come from the cave down there. A sentry, maybe?"

Staid frowned. "I'd expect a bandit sentry to just try to warn us off. They don't want to deal with anyone like us. Besides, whoever that was is too good of a mage to be some common bandit. I haven't even met a bandit wizard who could create a ward, let alone one as solid as that one in just a moment's notice."

He strode forward towards the black-robed figure. If he was that skilled with magic then there might just be something worth taking off his body. More enchanted equipment was never a bad thing, especially if it was a weakly enchanted item he wouldn't care about destroying in his quest to master enchanting.

Despite being fairly certain their enemy was dead Staid fired an Ice Spike into its leg for good measure. Just something to make sure he wasn't just playing dead and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Unfortunately that revealed a little more than Staid was okay with.

"Vampire!" He hissed as the body crumbled away into nothing, the added stress of the Ice Spike too much for the corpse to handle. Staid eyed it warily for another few moments before he dropped to his knees. This was an opportunity. "Lydia, I need my robes back."

She quickly pulled them off and handed them to the boy. Staid shrugged them on and flipped open one of the many pockets and satchels strapped to it. Those were almost as valuable as the magicka enhancements woven into the robe's fibers.

He took a moment to find a satchel that wasn't full of gems or gold – his dream was eventually to acquire so much wealth his pockets would act more or less like armor – and quickly brushed as much of the thick, coarse dust as he could into it. Staid wasn't an alchemist by any means but he knew exactly how high of a price a decent amount of vampire dust could fetch.

Staid analyzed the rest of the vampire's belongings with a practiced eye. Most of it was useless. The robes were of good craftsmanship but they wouldn't fetch more than a few septims. His sword was of fine make as well but Staid wasn't interested in it. It would be too much of a hassle to lug around…his staff was enough of a burden already.

Thankfully the vampire did keep a few potions on him. Staid uncorked one of them and took a whiff, though he almost retched as the sharp iron scent of blood attacked his nostrils. He hastily threw it away, burning the flask in midair with a quick Firebolt.

No need to attract any more of the bloodsuckers.

The rest of the potions were a bit more appealing. Staid would never turn down a quality healing potion and there were several to help him recover magicka as well. He tossed it to Lydia, who caught it with practiced ease despite her cold fingers.

"I imagine they're probably based in that cave," Lydia pointed. Staid nodded and rose, using his staff for support. It had been three days since he'd been anointed Ysmir, Dragon of the North, but his body was still strained even after he'd flooded his body with restoration magic.

He jabbed his staff into the ground. Staid ignored the crackles of magicka aching to surge from the tip of the metal length and focused. "I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't clear it out, wouldn't I?"

"Perhaps," Lydia said nonchalantly. She unsheathed her blade. "But imagine what riches we might find in a den of vampires."

Staid's eyes brightened at that and he couldn't help but grin at Lydia. "You know me much too well. In that case let's go see if we can't make the world a little bit of a better place."

And with that he clasped his mask onto his face. Bearing the staff of a Dragon Priest in one hand and an orb of fire in another he looked as though he could have just walked out from the ancient tales.

Lydia couldn't help but approve.

XX

"Damn thralls," Staid hissed as he struggled to push the absolute bear of a Nord off of him. The man's face was slack, frozen in astonishment from the pain he'd felt when Staid had frantically shoved an Ice Spike into his chest.

He'd gotten lucky. The thrall had been waiting in ambush after they'd cleared out the first large room they'd come upon, slaying two vampires with the advantage of surprise and putting another thrall out of his misery with Lydia's blade.

If he hadn't reflexively sprayed Flames into the man as he charged with a battleax bigger than Staid was then he'd be in two pieces right now. As it was the giant man had howled in agony as his arms were blackened by fire and tackled Staid in a frenzy, intent on tearing his throat out with his teeth if necessary.

Lydia finally arrived, her blade still bloody. She cast it aside and hurriedly pulled the man off with ease that Staid was jealous of. Even with the mask enhancing his strength and endurance he was still nowhere near as capable as Lydia.

"Thanks," he wheezed, placing a hand on his ribs. Moments later he felt his magicka drain as golden light flooded his body, repairing the cracks left by the heavy man crashing down on him. "You need healing?"

"I emerged unscathed," Lydia shook her pretty head. Staid nodded.

"Good. Keep careful from here on…I think we've lost the advantage of surprise."

Lydia grimaced at that and picked up her blade once more. She looked into the narrow passage that would take them into the next cavern hesitantly. "My Thane…"

Staid smiled but said nothing. With a gesture and a moment of intense focus his favored atronach manifested from a deep purple portal. He exchanged greetings with the dancing creature and willed it to move forwards.

Aware of its directives the atronach leisurely floated down the hall. Staid sighed when he heard a fierce scream of agony as a vampire presumably walked right into the flame atronach…its mere presence would be enough to scorch the undead alive.

That was the real power of the flame atronach. In close quarters its overpowering heat and fire magic made it extremely formidable to unprotected warriors. Even mages would have trouble remaining strong against it if it closed ground thanks to its physical capabilities.

Sure, it couldn't hold off dozens of men like Farengar claimed the more powerful atronachs could but it served his purposes well enough. So long as none of the vampires were well-versed in Conjuration magic he'd be fine.

He allowed his face to fall into a scowl behind his cold metal mask as he clasped his staff in one and a fireball in another. His atronach would fight well but he knew his spells would be needed to win these battles.

Honestly, why would anyone fight differently? It was so much more satisfying than anything else he could imagine.

XX

"FUS!" Staid roared, bringing the might of his Thu'um to bear against the twin vampires that rushed towards Lydia with inhuman speed. He didn't even have time to savor their gobsmacked faces before another vampire was upon him, though a quick burst of flames brought the creature screaming to the ground.

Lydia quickly beheaded the vampire, grimacing as its body disintegrated into a pile of thick, coarse dust hidden within black robes. She was quick to return her focus to the last vampire standing.

"Who are you to slay my clan and slaughter my thralls?" The tall man said as he straightened his back and revealed his full height. Staid blinked at the skeletal figure, skin drawn tight over the vampire's white face. His fangs were so pronounced that they protruded from his lips. "Your offense is not to be forgiven."

"I'm Staid Stormcrown," the Dragonborn said with a grin behind his mask. He savored the way that rolled off his tongue. "And I am the Dragonborn."

The vampire blinked his fiery orange eyes. "So one of the Dragon Blood enters my humble abode…truly a fortuitous day. And you bring such a fetching companion as well. I wonder…will her blood taste as good as yours?"

Staid snarled at that and raised his staff. Lightning surged from the tip, though the old vampire simply flowed around the blast like he was made of liquid. In a blindingly quick moment a blade that shone with fire was torn from its sheath and the vampire flicked it up, ready for action.

He hurled a fireball but it missed, slamming into the massive statue behind the vampire – he would've paid a bit more attention to its curious lack of scorch marks at any other time – and growled as the vampire leapt at Lydia. There was nothing he could do with her that close.

Their foe was quick, but Lydia was no slouch. She parried his first blow with her shield, deflecting the burning length of steel away and giving her an opening. Lydia stabbed at the vampire but was deftly parried with a simple Ward her mundane steel blade simply slid off of.

The vampire bared his fangs in a savage grin that reminded Staid all too much of his own but wasn't prepared for the Ice Spike that buried itself in his leg, piercing the heavy robes all too easily.

Staid winced as the vampire howled in agony and turned those molten eyes full of hate upon the Dragonborn, though the vampire was quickly distracted by Lydia's return to the battle. It was slower now…slow enough for Lydia to match it.

He eyed the battle worriedly as the two fighters locked blades. The vampire easily overpowered Lydia, though his wounded leg prevented him from pressing the advantage. Despite that Staid could see how this battle would end.

The vampire was too much. His blows left huge dents in Lydia's fine shield and her sword was warped from the heat flowing from the vampire's own blade, which almost appeared as just a pillar of flame wrapped around a superheated bar of metal at this point.

Despite that the vampire had no issue wielding it with mastery. He'd clearly had long decades to practice and controlled the battle well, flicking Lydia's hot blade aside and almost toying with her as he kept her between him and Staid.

Staid finally lowered his staff. It wouldn't be of any use. If he accidentally struck Lydia he'd sign her death warrant. Even wounded the vampire was more than quick enough to bury his fiery sword through her neck if he saw the opportunity. Nor would his Destruction be of any use…

Instead he clenched his hand, focused his will, and released. A spectral wolf leapt from a portal with a ghostly howl and immediately rushed the vampire, who was distracted just long enough for Lydia to score a glancing blow on his arm.

The vampire hissed and whirled away in a flurry of black to avoid Staid's Familiar, which instantly pursued. Unfortunately it met its end with a single thrust of the vampire's deadly sword.

But that was all Staid needed.

He smirked as he raised his staff and fired a bolt of lightning into the vampire before the creature of the night could react. Staid savored the look in his molten eyes before the bolt made contact and sent him spasming to the ground, unable to even scream.

"Back!" He roared to Lydia, who limped away. Staid eyed some light burns on her hands…that burning sword had really done a number on her. Even blocking its strikes was a deadly endeavor.

Thankfully Lydia heeded his command and watched as Staid hurled a Fireball into the vampire as he rose, blasting him back into a frozen wall and stunning him further. From there Staid cast his staff aside.

He didn't need it for this.

Staid grimaced as he raised both hands and unleashed a torrent of potent Flames that devoured the vampire whole. An unearthly scream of agony exploded from the vampire as the fires ate at its form and stripped away the frozen flesh. The sickening scent of roasting pork filled his nostrils and he fought the urge to wretch as he smelled burning hair.

When the screams died he kept the flames going. Steam billowed throughout the cavern as he boiled more and more of the ice that covered the walls in a slick layer…he didn't stop until even the burning hot steam failed to appear.

He'd never fought a vampire before but he had no doubt that they were tougher than he'd expect.

Staid eyed the seared robes – thankfully the vampire's body had already disintegrated, sparing him the sight of his gruesome handiwork – and lowered his hands.

It was over.

Sure of the vampire's demise he blasted the area with a cone of cold, freezing his sweat over but also cooling the boiling hot steam away and removing the slight glow that had begun to cover the stone.

He swiftly walked over and picked up the vampire's sword. It looked almost mundane now, the only hint of its arcane nature a slight orange tinge that flickered into sparks when he clasped the hilt.

Staid raised it high and felt the enchantment…oh yes, this was impressive work. Far beyond anything he could create right now. All Staid could make right now were trinkets and toys. This was powerful.

With a slight exertion of his will the enchantment rushed into action. Lydia flinched as a stream of flames exploded down the blade, though he himself was protected from the effect, and engulfed the entire length of the sword.

He let it die. Staid smiled over at Lydia and her ruined sword, which she had cast aside with her shield to avoid further damage. The Dragonborn sauntered over to her and flipped the blade to her, presenting her with the hilt. "I figure I owe you a replacement.'"

Lydia took the sword gingerly in her gauntlets. She focused for a moment and the sword caught fire once more…Staid couldn't help the wild grin that came over his face when she flashed him a genuine smile. "I've never used an enchanted weapon before."

"It's not too hard," he laughed and reclaimed his staff that he quickly strapped onto his back. "You can practice with it tonight. For now we have something much more important to do…"

XX

"Ha, this is great!" Staid grinned as he admired the simple copper band on his finger. It wasn't the most elaborate piece of jewelry in the world but the simple white-blue glow it shone with was all he wanted. His reserves, almost exhausted by the intensive battles, were noticeably regenerating. Normally it would take at least several hours before he would regain all of his magicka but this would cut the time down to an hour or so.

Maybe a non-mage wouldn't be able to appreciate it but Staid knew very well the importance of this enchantment. Magicka was power and power was life. With this the amount of strength he had available to fuel his spells wouldn't increase but he'd be able to cast much more frequently without worrying about wringing himself dry.

This was a security measure and he appreciated it.

"These vampires had a nice set of supplies," he commented to Lydia as he dug through the massive chest they'd kept some of their best equipment in. She nodded as she opened another chest which was mostly full of scrolls and a few tomes that caught his eye. "Wait, let me look through that one. Did you get the rest of the gold into your pack?"

"Yes, my Thane," Lydia rolled her eyes at his nosiness. "You should look into buying a horse. Even with those enchantments you obtained to lighten our packs we cannot carry around this much gold."

Staid nodded absentmindedly, much more concerned with the book on Conjuration he'd just opened. The title was worn away with age but the pages themselves were perfectly preserved, probably with some sort of Alteration enchantment.

"What even is this?" He complained as he struggled to comprehend the introduction. "Transliminal passage of quickened objects or entities without the persistent agency of hyperagonal…is that even a word?"

Lydia shrugged and carefully withdrew a pair of steel gauntlets of incredibly fine make. Staid would've been much more interested if he weren't trying to comprehend even the pictures shown in the book, which revolved around some odd sphere that was probably incredibly powerful somehow. Most strange, complicated things were.

"To Oblivion with it," he muttered, tossing it into his pack. He'd save that for another day when he actually had a background in magical theory beyond the bare basics. Instead Staid opened a second tome marked with the symbol of Conjuration. "Ah, this is better! Book One of the Conjuration of Bound Items. What do you think of this?"

"I think it would be better to leave Oblivion alone," Lydia grimaced as she pulled the gauntlets on. Staid scowled at her.

"Lydia, I told you to let me –"

She raised a hand as a slow smile spread across her face. Lydia quickly grabbed one of the nearby weapons Staid had already pored over – a plain, mundane hammer – and turned to smash it into the stone wall. It pounded straight into it and Lydia released the wooden handle of the hammer, staring at the head as it laid stuck in the wall. The head was mostly shattered.

Staid blinked owlishly. "I'm really, really glad they weren't expecting us."

"Indeed," Lydia murmured as she clenched her fists, though her increased strength seemed to not bother her. "The vampire's strength was already formidable enough. With these…"

"We probably wouldn't be standing here right now," Staid finished with a frown. He brushed a few long locks of black hair out of his face – he'd need to cut it soon – and finished piling all of the worthwhile books and scrolls into his bag. His eyes glittered greedily and he snatched a few small soul gems up that were resting at the bottom of the chest and placed them into a pocket with some of the other valuables he'd picked up. "Alright, I think that's about all we can carry. Let's get going. I want to reach Falkreath tomorrow."

Lydia nodded, though she looked a bit disconcerted at Staid's abrupt departure. Nevertheless she quickly gathered the rest of the valuables they'd picked out and chased after him as he left through a hidden backdoor.

Who knew what her Thane would get into without her around?

XX

"What is it?" Lydia whispered as Staid suddenly came to a complete halt. He was frozen as he shut his eyes. "Danger?"

"…I don't know," Staid sighed. "Just follow me. Keep an eye out. There's something out here."

Lydia looked at him strangely but he just ignored her. Staid couldn't even answer his own questions about whatever was out here was powerful. Absolutely brimming with magical power. It wasn't something that someone unused to the feeling of arcane energy would notice. Despite the charge in the air it was a subtle thing, having appeared almost from nowhere.

He would've been incapable of this mere weeks ago. But that short period of time had tempered him, forced him to grow and given the tools that would allow him to thrive. Just the training sessions he'd had with Farengar where the ornery wizard crammed as much magical knowledge as possible – not just spells, but the how and why of magic – had helped him to become more cognizant of his surroundings.

So he followed his instincts.

It took them off the road – Lydia protested quite vehemently about that – but Staid didn't care. To appease her he summoned a familiar, shaping the flimsy magical construct out of a bit of magicka and conjuring a lesser daedra to animate it. Simple magic. Baby steps into the school of Conjuration and second nature to him now.

The forests of Falkreath Hold grew darker and twisted and gnarled as one ventured deep, warning away vulnerable travelers. There were worse things that wandered Skyrim than men and mer and this was where they made their home.

"I don't like this!" Lydia hissed as Staid led them into a large clearing. The trees were shorter and lighter here, as if they'd been regrown centuries after the rest of the forest had grown up. "We should turn –"

"I'm not worried," Staid said confidently as he stepped over a few roots that jutted from the earth. "I've got you with me, don't I?"

Lydia was speechless at that and fell silent, a determined smile across her face. Staid smirked. It wasn't a lie but his Housecarl really was easy to appease.

All thoughts fell away as they stepped into the clearing. Staid's eyes widened as –

The sky burned red. Black clouds roiled ominously low in the sky, casting darkness that would've covered the forests entirely were it not for the bloody red light that shone with all the intensity of the sun flooding from a massive curve of black rock that seemingly sucked all the light that touched it into a void.

Strange plants crawled from the gate, searing away the native vegetation and claiming the land with red leaves and vines and grass.

The gate flashed and roared as dozens of beasts emerged in a frenzy: huge bipedal crocodilian monsters with claws and teeth that could shred heavy steel like paper, quick, vicious man-sized lizards that sprinted out, skeletal abominations with a long, forked tongue and terrible claws, even spiders with the naked torsos of white-haired women.

A cry rang out around him and he saw hundreds of men bearing the stag of Falkreath on their shields roar at the daedra rushing onto the mortal plane. Steel was raised and a massive bear of a man clutching a war hammer the size of Staid belt out a shout of rage –

"Staid!"

He blinked and the phantasmal images fell away like a bad dream. Staid grit his teeth and looked upon the clearing. There were still places where nothing grew.

"I'm fine," he breathed. Everything was perfectly okay. There were no hordes of daedra rushing him, no sky that burned with all the power of Oblivion behind it. Only the foundation of the Oblivion Gate remained, torn down by the fury of the Nords.

"Are you –"

"Let's go," Staid turned, suddenly feeling a bit ill. He finally understood why the Nords so feared magic. "There's nothing for us here."

XX

"So this is Falkreath," Staid muttered to himself as he stepped through the gates. The guards had been especially wary of him as he arrived even without his mask on. His youthful face had lowered their suspicions enough to ask him about some sort of dog a blacksmith was looking for but it didn't mean they discounted the black metal staff on his back. "Ever been here before?"

"Once," Lydia confirmed. She glared at anyone who allowed their gaze to linger too long on Staid. "I accompanied Jarl Balgruuf as part of his retinue when he came to meet with the new Jarl of Falkreath."

He nodded in understanding, honestly not that interested. Staid had heard enough about Jarl Siddgeir from the traders and hunters he and Lydia had met on the road to be wary of the man. Jarl Balgruuf was a powerful Jarl and certainly dangerous to his enemies but at least he was honorable..

From what he'd heard Siddgeir was neither of those things. Falkreath was dangerous now. A worrying number of bandit clans had cropped up and nothing had been done about them. It was difficult to root anyone out of the thick, foreboding forests that dominated the uncultivated wilderness of Falkreath but at least the previous Jarls had kept dangers away from the roads.

"We should make haste..." Staid murmured as he eyed the small city. Only a few thousand lived here but he didn't feel right. It was like there was an itch in his mind warning him something was wrong. The misty air and sharp bite of the cold didn't help matters. "I want to leave by morning."

"Of course," Lydia replied. Staid heard her grunt as she shifted her sword to be more comfortable on her hip. "I'll need to see a blacksmith and try to buy a new shield. It is discomforting to be without one."

He dipped his head in understanding. That was something Staid could sympathize with. Lydia was a deadly warrior, but to be without her shield was like for Staid to be without his magic. Naked and vulnerable.

"Let's look around then," he shrugged. "Falkreath's not too big. Shouldn't take us more than a half hour or so. I'd like to check by an alchemist's shop as well – we're almost out of potions and I'd rather not tempt fate when there could still be battles going on at Riverwood."

Lydia grimaced at that but didn't say anything as they headed through the misty roads of Falkreath. Staid felt the power in the area grow ever stronger as they carved their way through the mist, ignoring the passersby who were just going about their daily lives.

He could have asked for directions but he honestly just didn't feel like it. Staid was too distracted pondering the aura of dread everyone else seemed to ignore and in some small way he even liked exploring without having any idea of where to go. It was relaxing.

Staid wasn't sure how long they'd wandered before he heard the distinctive shriek of a weapon or tool being sharpened. He sauntered along, slowing down just a bit to annoy Lydia. They weren't in that much of a rush.

"Do you have any shields?" Staid cut to the chase. The blacksmith looked up and nodded.

"Aye," the aging blacksmith took the ax – made for cutting wood, not bloody battle – and set it aside. "Most of my stock's inside. Don't need the steel rusting up on me."

"I'll stay out here," he directed to Lydia. She frowned but nodded. At least she'd finally figured out he wasn't going to budge on issues like these. His Housecarl cast one last glance at him before she followed the blacksmith inside.

Staid leaned up against the rail and glanced out. There were a few dozen people headed every which way around the blacksmith's shop and a few guards patrolled lazily. They obviously weren't used to seeing much trouble.

Most people didn't even pay him a lick of attention. Now that was a refreshing change. Staid was glad he'd found the powerful staff and dagger in Bleak Falls Barrow but the staff proved to be quite the hassle if he wanted to get around unnoticed. Mages were a rare sight in Skyrim and an unwelcome one at that.

He shifted around a little as he listened to Lydia and the blacksmith converse. She had enough gold to cover almost anything she could want so he wasn't too worried about that, though he imagined her haggling skills could use some work.

Since he couldn't exactly train his magic here – the fun stuff would cause a panic and attract unwanted attention – he retraced his path.

It had taken three days to get here from High Hrothgar. With the time it had taken him to travel from Whiterun to the Greybeards' temple Riverwood should have been retaken by now. If not he'd have to work something out to go and retrieve Delphine…at the very least he'd have to remove his armor and equipment. That would bring the Stormcloaks down on him faster than he could imagine.

Delphine had better have something good. Staid was glad he'd helped her take down Sahloknir and learn more about the greater situation going on here but he didn't exactly find much pleasure in her company. She was abrasive and paranoid, though he did have to admit she'd become more bearable after Kynsesgrove.

"—and I wouldn't mind the company of a fierce, loyal beast!" The hoarse voice of the blacksmith boomed as he and Lydia stepped outside. Staid gave the shield Lydia had bought a cursory glance – it was a simple, solid thing that would do until they returned to Whiterun – before paying more attention. This must be the man who was looking for that dog. "If you happen to see him around would you mind trying to get him back here?"

"If we see the dog I'll try and get it back," Staid interjected smoothly. The blacksmith looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "The guards at the gate told us."

The blacksmith smiled and reached into his pocket, removing a small packet full of moist meat that he handed to Staid. "This should help lure the mutt in. I'll have a reward waiting for you."

Staid nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Lydia, are you ready to leave?"

She nodded tersely. Staid dipped his head to the blacksmith and they left in a hurry. He was still feeling a bit too on edge to bother with the normal courtesies.

XX

"…and may we one day rejoin them in eternity."

Staid was silent as the old elf finished the service for a Nordic man and Imperial woman. Both had red-rimmed eyes and deep lines were carved into their face. From what he'd gathered they'd lost someone dear to them. He silently wished them the best – he was no stranger to loss and that kind of hurt didn't go away easily.

"Spend as much time here as you need," the Altmer priest finished quietly. He took his leave then, granting the couple time alone to grieve. The old mer's sharp eyes caught Staid quickly and stared for a moment before he shook his head and ventured over. "My name is Runil and I am a priest of Arkay. Can I help you?"

"I don't know," Staid answered honestly. He glanced around at the thousands of graves that dominated the great graveyard of Falkreath, stretching on for miles and miles and wrapping around most of the city. The forests had encroached on the farthest edges, he could see, but for the most part the graves were undisturbed. "I've just felt something wrong since arriving here and hoped to find out what."

The mer's eyes lit up in understanding. "So that staff isn't just for show."

Staid's fists clenched tightly. "I know what I'm doing."

"But you lack real training," Runil surmised. He looked at Staid knowingly. "Most that come to Falkreath comment on how gloomy it is. There's a shadow here, though not a malevolent one." He turned from Staid and faced the graves. "This city is deeply intertwined with death and mortality, the domain of Arkay. War is not new to Falkreath, as you can see by our graveyard. Thousands have died in battle here."

"So I'm feeling the deaths?" He frowned, thinking back to where they'd found what he and Lydia had figured was an Oblivion Gate from two centuries ago.

Runil shrugged noncommittally. "In a sense. It's more that you feel the emotion tied to this place by its history. I believe Lord Arkay watches over us here. Some think that in the forests of Falkreath the barriers between worlds is thin. I disagree. I simply believe that death and bloodshed and birth have occurred and that peoples' perceptions make it what it is."

He nodded dumbly. It hadn't quite gone over his head but he hadn't expected the sudden shift.

"Forgive me," Runil shook his head at Staid's bemused face. "It isn't often I'm able to find another practitioner of the arts in Falkreath."

"It's fine," Staid flashed him a crooked grin. "Skyrim isn't kind to mages. What do you practice?"

The priest smiled, "Conjuration and Illusion, mostly." He thrust an arm out towards the graveyard. "I refuse to practice the vile arts of necromancy, but I find that summoned daedra are useful weapons now that I no longer practice Destruction. Danger sometimes tread this sacred ground."

Staid raised an eyebrow and decidedly decided to avoid mentioning his own necromantic pursuits around the old priest. "Not Restoration?"

"There are others priests that provide that service," Runil shook his head. "No, my talents do not lie there. I fought in the Great War and my training didn't lend itself to healing, though I have tried to make up for my deficiency. Still, it is those talents that make me useful for tending to the Hall of the Dead and this cemetery. With help, of course. I'm far too old to handle this all by myself."

He nodded – while the Altmer wasn't especially old as far as his kind went there was a weariness about him. Runil had undoubtedly seen sights in the war Staid couldn't even imagine. And if he'd been struck by any sort of powerful magic…well, even if you were lucky – or unlucky, as the case may be – enough to survive you never escaped with everything.

The Dragonborn looked at the old Altmer thoughtfully and lightly stroked his chin. He took a little bit of pleasure in feeling hair a little more stubbly than usual there. Then again he supposed he shouldn't – to please these Nords he'd probably have to get a beard brushing his boots. If he wanted to avoid Lydia oh so cruelly mocking him then he'd have to shear it off.

Then again maybe he could use this new magic to use…fire should do the job well enough if he was careful, right?

"Can I help you with something?" Runil arched an eyebrow. Staid grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head as he snorted out a laugh.

"Well, to be honest I was wondering if you would mind helping me a little with my Conjuration. I'm still little more than a novice!" Staid confessed honestly. Runil frowned considerately. The Dragonborn saw the man bend slightly and pounced on the weakness. "You'll be compensated, of course!" He assured him. "I'm sure you could find some use for a few septims."

Runil nodded slowly and looked past Staid to the mourning couple – he'd have to ask Runil about whatever nasty business was stirring there – thoughtfully. He seemed to think for a few moments watching the man and woman before he found his resolution filled.

"Yes…" the Altmer murmured to himself. He glanced up at the Dragonborn. "Yes, I think we can come to an arrangement. Follow me. We have much to discuss."

Staid dipped his head in acceptance though he smirked madly. He let little bolts of lightning dance between his fingers as he inwardly crowed his victory – visiting this dark, depressing town might be worth it after all!

XX

He grinned over at Lydia as they left the general store a few hundred septims richer. Staid had greedily clung to all the arcane items he'd pillaged but there plenty of boring things to get rid of. Somehow precious gems and the products of brilliant craftsmen lacked the appeal of learning how to shoot lightning from his fingertips.

To be honest this was the best he'd felt in a while. Falkreath's gloom wasn't anything special after getting to know Runil better, he (well Lydia) had riches he couldn't even dream of clanking around in his pockets, and he'd gotten to learn even more about magic.

Today had been a damned good day.

"My Thane," Lydia ceased her annoyed glaring and covertly motioned to the small pack of guards headed their way. Staid crossed his arms and struggled to fight the instinctive urge that had been engrained into him as a street rat to flee. They were nothing to him, he had to remind himself. Not anymore. "Should I…"

He flashed her a cocky grin and shook his head. "Nah. What're they gonna do, arrest us? We've done nothing wrong. Besides," his features twisted into a nasty smirk as Mirmulnir and Sahloknir's spirits rose within, "that'd be a terrible mistake on their part."

Lydia frowned at him, unsettled, but didn't draw the enchanted blade on her back. That alone had Staid feeling a bit more confident even as the guards came to a stop a respectful distance ahead of them and the blood pounded in his ears. He was pretty sure they weren't too impressed with him judging from the odd glances most of the Nords were shooting him.

"What is it?" He asked with just a hint of the force he could exude if he so wished. Staid's shoulders unwound a bit as the tension coiled up in him departed somewhat…the guards were afraid of him. Even their leader had flinched and he might have taken a tiny little bit of pleasure out of that.

The leader coughed awkwardly. "Are you the Thane of Whiterun?"

"One of them," Staid shrugged noncommittally. The guard – a hulking brute of a Nord with a warhammer bigger than he was and sandy blonde hair that peeked out from beneath his plain helm – twitched a bit. "Why?"

"Jarl Siddgeir would like to speak with you."

Staid's features twisted in a scowl that quite plainly showed what he thought of that request. He wasn't too impressed with what he'd heard of the Jarl so far and he honestly didn't want to get too close to anyone that powerful. Dragonborn he might be but he was pretty sure that wouldn't stop a prick like that from trying to have his head chopped off.

"I'll drop by when I have the time," he said breezily. The guards looked annoyed and Staid snickered inwardly a little – Lydia just seemed on edge, like one of those big mountain cats he'd heard about in Whiterun. Not a bad comparison in his eyes.

The lead guardsman stepped forward and only now did Staid realize just how big he was. Gods, the man had to have bear blood running through his veins…then again he was fairly sure he could say the same for most Nords. Most even made the legionnaires he'd met at the camps when he'd been a vagrant wandering the roads look delicate.

He just stood his ground. Crazy how knowing you could beat a bunch of heavily armed bear-men with just a few flexes of your will or yelling a funny word bolstered your confidence. There was pretty much nothing to fear from these men.

Lydia looked like she might disagree, though. He didn't miss how she edged slightly to the left, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. That was nice of her, he smirked.

Staid could practically hear the Nord's irritation slipping. "The Jarl is not a patient man."

"Maybe I can help him with that!" the Dragonborn jeered. He yawned. "Why should I? I've had a long day and a hot fire and warm bed sounds a damn shot better than meeting with a Jarl that's as much of a boy as I am!"

The guard didn't take nearly as much offense to that as he'd hoped, unfortunately. He didn't even react to the jab and just crossed his own arms – it didn't look like they'd be leaving here any time soon.

Why'd they have to get a patient one?

He found the guard looking at him consideringly. "Jarl Siddgeir said that he had a task for you. One that would be very profitable for all parties. I'm not to return without you."

Staid snorted. Well, at least the Jarl was speaking his language. He idly flexed his fingers and allowed a dozen arcs of lightning to dance brilliantly between the extended digits. The mage stared admiringly at the show of light, heedless of the discomfort of the Nords, before he shrugged.

"Sure, why not? Take me to him."

He had the strangest feeling that this wouldn't end well.

A/N: Sorry for cutting it a bit short but I realized this wouldn't have another stopping point for a while! Anyways I hope everyone enjoys the newest installment of Juvenile. I've finished planning out this story and will continue to update it semifrequently, although it's going to remain as a side project to my primary story Traveler.

Thanks for reading and make sure to review!