Facing Truth
“An important thing you should always consider while refining metals, apart from using clean equipment and preferably use charcoal of wood to avoid alien metals joining the process, is to remove any rust you detect and then some more.” Anarenen had a fondness for long sentences but his grave voice was not suited for the task of making a listener follow them to the end. This time he was lecturing the apprentices in the arcane properties of metals. “Rusted metal has turned into a new substance that is not desirable.”
Breonnarin, a delicate blonde Altmer, had other concerns at the moment. He was still occupied with the previous step. “How am I supposed to burn metal to ash with this thing?” He pointed at the small calcinator on the table before him. “It's made of metal!”
Anarenen fought to stifle the rage that seemed to build up within him every time that boy opened his mouth. The only thing that kept him from throwing him out of the guild was a promise between Anarenen and Leonesse, Breonnarin's mother, who had died many years earlier. If every hair on his head would turn white in the process, that boy would become a skilled alchemist.
“Please, boy, I will explain the process first and then you may ask anything that is not clear by then.”
Alisa Medric, a skinny Breton girl, sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. She obviously thought Breonnarin was slowing down the lecture, but the rest of the class rather sided with the Altmer than the snooty bookworm. She blushed furiously under the stare of three Altmeri a Dunmer and a Bosmer, hiding herself behind her copy of Fundaments of Alchemy which looked even bigger in her tiny hands.
A shame that she was so avid. Apart from her body, which was probably just a phase, she had a pleasant face when she was not looking at Breonnarin. Big dark eyes and fair skin made her look like a doll. She was not the one to be physically picked on, though, as she had a knack for destruction magic.
Anarenen continued after giving the class a harassed look. “You will not succeed in refining an entire piece of metal with higher density unless you are using a high quality calcinator. Take heed of this and measure carefully how much metal you will need for the project you're intending.” Anarenen had made a chart of common metals and how much ash they would get from a given unit. “Metals are sometimes very expensive, but when properly used they are powerful ingredients.”
Breonnarin glanced at Alisa, who was sitting behind him to the left. She was peeking at him over the her book with angry eyes but her pen moved as if her hand was taking notes on its own. Smiling with the side of his face that was hidden from her, he took out a pen from his pocket, he usually kept them there even in the middle of lectures, and pretended to take notes from the blackboard. What he really did was a doodle. A thin, big headed caricature of Alisa was the outcome. He held up the paper slightly before him, as if reading it through to check if he had missed something important.
“Moving on to salts, as a natural step from metals...”
What was that? Breonnarin looked away from the girl the second before she gasped in humiliation. That was of lesser significance, because the tutor was erasing the cluttered blackboard. Turning over the doodle, Breonnarin started to scribble frantically.
Anarenen looked over his shoulder and frowned disapprovingly while continuing to erase. “Weren't you paying attention? You'll have to look at another student's notes. I have no time for another break in schedule. Alisa, you will fill him in.”
“But...” Alisa's protest died down. She was not the one who opposed teachers.
Breonnarin sighed and put down his pencil. What a wonderful day.
“Where are you going?” Alisa put herself in his way when the lesson was over and Breonnarin left the small group.
“I'm having lunch.”
“But I'm supposed to help you! If you just sit down with the rest of us...”
“I've got plans.” Breonnarin stepped around the scrawny girl and walked towards the group of commoners who were being taught to read at the Imperial Shrine. Searching the small crowd for a moment, he found the person he was looking for.
Savela Hlas, a plump little Dunmer, worked as a maid in Arobar manor. He sneaked up behind her and placed his hands over her eyes in the old cliché way. On her it worked every time, though.
“Scuttle!” Savela loved scuttle and as long as he kept bringing her morsels from the kitchen in Llethri manor the affection included him as well. She had introduced him to Thieves Guild with his new nickname and the other members were not late to use it to make fun of him. Not everyone understood that he was named after the sentiments one certain Dunmer had for food, but interpreted it as an indicator that he was unreliable. It would take years to mend that image.
Breonnarin smiled and showed her to a table. “What have you learnt today?” He held out the chair for her, as his father had taught him to do, but she took the one beside it, probably thinking Breonnarin intended to use the one he was holding. How can she get around in a manor?
“Not much. When I get to the end of a sentence I've already forgot the beginning.” She helped herself to his food bag. The kitchen workers wondered how Breonnarin could eat all that he asked for and still stay slim. “I'm growing,” he usually answered. “Not much,” they replied.
“Once you learn the shapes of the words things will go a lot faster.”
“Is that how it's done?” Savela asked while chewing on a sandwich.
Breonnarin hurried to claim at least one of the three for himself. “Yes. In the end you'll only have to spell out completely new words.”
“But every book has different looking letters, not to mention hand writing!”
“It still works as long as they're recognisable. The shape can also be a guide to correct spelling. If it's wrong it looks strange.”
“Oh, I don't know whether I'll actually write something myself. I just thought it would be exciting to read books that I would never dream to ask Mother to read aloud for me.”
“Ah.” Breonnarin felt slightly disappointed in the girl for not wanting to expand her mind a little.
Savela clasped a hand over her mouth and looked at him eagerly. “Scuttle, will you read for me?”
“Sure.” He could see no harm in it.
“Not here, though. Not at home either. Are there any small, comfortable rooms in Llethri manor?” she purred and caressed his arm.
“No, but the spare rooms in the council hall should be empty.” This conversation took an exciting turn.
“Wonderful!” Savela reached up to kiss his cheek. “Do you have time tonight?”
No you don't! You have to study the notes you should be taking right now! ”Yes I do.”
Savela rose up. “I'm usually done with my chores two hours after supper.”
“I'll meet you on the bridge outside the council entrance. What sort of book do you have in mind?”
“It will be a surprise.” As the Dunmer left Breonnarin glanced down at the table for the first time. All the food was gone. Even the one sandwich he had grabbed. She must have taken it from him while she kissed him. She always used dirty tricks and there was more to her than what she chose to show.
Alisa was looking at him coolly where she sat apart from the rest of the small class. There was not much time left before he would attend to a lecture in Dwemer culture by Edwinna Elbert while she would practise destruction magic outside. After that they would not meet before the test.
Breonnarin sat down beside the dark haired girl.
“I suppose you're here for notes. Don't bother yourself, I've already copied them for you.” She did not look up from her nearly untouched food.
“Thank you.” I'd better double check this with the others so she's not tricking me.
“I'm not trying to fool you.” Her voice was dull, but when she finally looked up at him her eyes were oddly fervent. She placed the paper in his hands.
“I owe you a favour later,” Breonnarin said and put it in a book so it would not get lost.
“Bah!” Alisa looked discomfited rather than annoyed but Breonnarin had no time to figure out why. Just then Edwinna Elbert arrived, accompanied by an Orc that carried a large chest for her. Her lectures started when she showed up. Not before or after.
“Thank you anyway.” Upon turning his back on her he did not notice that her lower lip trembled as he turned his back on her and left.
Savela met him as previously decided and they entered the almost empty council hall.
“It's so huge in here!” The plump Dunmer gaped.
After minutes of searching they found the hostel, which turned out to be completely empty. They picked a small room at the end of the long corridor. If someone showed up they would go for the more luxurious rooms first.
“What book did you bring?” Breonnarin asked while sitting down on the double bed to take off his shoes.
Savela stared at him for a long moment. “You really... oh, aren't you sweet!”
Breonnarin stretched out, fully clothed, on one side of the bed, giving her a quizzical look. “You didn't expect me to?”
“I just forgot that Altmeri are different. Yes, I did bring a book.” She picked up a red leather bound book from her bag and bounced down on the bed beside him.
“The Real Barenziah.”
“I've heard it caused quite a few scandals and that The Temple had it censored. It's still supposed to be quite a read, though.”
“We'll see about that in a while.” The Altmer adjusted the glass lantern on the table beside him to cast a favourable light and opened the book. “Five hundred years ago in Mournhold, City of Gems, there lived a blind widow and her only child...”
Savela moved closer, taking each word to her heart.
“...Symmachus struck him across the face before more than three words had left his mouth. He went down heavily, striking his head sharply on one of the stones that formed the fire pit. He died instantly.”
“Good!” Savela hissed. Breonnarin smiled and continued to read.
“...The woman snatched Wuffen away and threw him into the blazing hearth.”
“What an awful woman! I hate her!”
“She is since long dead. Nords don't live that long.” He put a soothing arm around her shoulders. She responded with snuggling closer, playing with his silky blonde hair.
“I had a stuffed alit when I was little. I can still remember how mad I was with my brother when he put his head into Liti's mouth to wear her like a hat! If someone had burnt her I would have... I...” She clutched her fist in his hair and did not let go until he complained.
Breonnarin rubbed his scalp. “I had a cute little stuffed rat named Ildi. I used to carry her around wherever I went until I found a real rat in the kitchen storage which was so friendly I could pat it. I named him Phynaster because he walked so funny. The cook found us and ran screaming. The next instant Dad was there, telling me the rat was diseased. There was nothing I could do to stop him from taking him out to kill him. At least I didn't have to watch, but still... I just couldn't play with Ildi after that.” Looking back on the incident with more grown eyes he could not blame his father for doing that, but the feelings from childhood were still present. His mother had died the same night, after a risky trip to Ghostfence, and that was probably a big reason why he still felt so sorry for Phynaster's death too.
“Poor Scuttle.” Savela hugged him tighter and shed a couple of tears on his collar.
After Breonnarin had told how Barenziah ran away with Straw, she had a dreamy look on her face. “I am a bit like Barenziah, don't you think?”
“You've both got red hair, and your personalities seem to match to a degree.”
She traced a finger along his jaw. “You look a bit like Straw.”
“A very tiny bit in that case. We just have the same colours. I bet Straw was taller than Dad and even bulkier.”
Savela ignored him. “We should run away!”
“Why?” A vivid imagination could be bad in combination with books, it seemed.
“It would be fun. Exciting!”
“I don't think it's fun in real life. Just the first ten or so minutes before you're brutally robbed, skinned and eaten and... hey!”
Savela had pinched him! “Read on!”
Breonnarin did as he was told, but it was growing harder to concentrate with her being so close and touching him when he least expected. “...They ate and drank together gleefully, rejoicing in their escape, and...”
“Yes?”
“... and made love vigorously on the narrow cot. Afterward they fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.” Breonnarin blushed. “They stayed for a week at Whiterun...”
“Hold it there.” Savela turned his head to face her and kissed his flushed lips. The book slid out of his hands and landed on the floor, where it remained until they left early in the morning.
Breonnarin had intended to sneak back into his room unnoticed, but his father, Ghijedalyn, was already there, staring at the untouched bed. “Where have you been?” the muscular warrior demanded. “If you've been drinking at The Rat in the Pot again I will...”
“I never left the building,” Breonnarin said gloomily and threw his bag on the bed.
“What? Where were you?”
“I was studying for a test with a friend and it got late.” The test! He remembered that Alisa's notes were still in his bag and took them out as evidence. He really had to look them over before breakfast.
His father took the paper and after just a quick glance he burst into laughter. “I can see you had a pleasant night. You're growing up faster than I acknowledge sometimes.” He returned the paper and gave his son a hard pat on the shoulder before retiring to his room to put on his armour.
Breonnarin read the words, dumbfounded.
It is important to use clean equipment.
Limit yourself to charcoal of wood to avoid contamination.
Only when all the rust is removed is a metal ready for the next step of refinement.
Very seldom will the entire piece, especially of denser types of metal, turn into ash.
Expensive and hard to use, metals are very powerful ingredients.
You should always know beforehand the amount of raw metal needed. (Turn paper for chart.)
On salts: Some metals will form salts when put in acid.
Understanding these simple words may prove very useful.
The wording was odd and it looked more like a poem than scribbles. Other than the female handwriting there was nothing to indicate anything, was there? It took a while for him to understand what it had revealed to his father. Reading the initial letter from every line formed a message that was too insane for chance to create.
Breonnarin wanted to hide under his bed for the rest of the day, but he had to take that test. He had to! It was a practical one and if he missed it he would have to write an essay or something else that was equally hard for him. At least he knew how to use his alchemical gear.
After memorizing the chart, good that she had written it on the backside, he went to the kitchen for breakfast and lunch to take with him. This time he did not ask for more than he needed. He had to make up his mind about serious matters and this was a good way to determine Savela's loyalties after yesterday. The kitchen maid goggled at him. “Are you ill?”
“No. I just think I've grown up now.” It was not nearly as fun as he had thought, though.
The test went fairly well for him. He made sure to concentrate only on the things he had at hand. Reality was too painful to acknowledge just yet. When he was done with the potion, one of lightning shield and shock resistance, a combination of metal, corkbulb root and crab meat, he finally lifted his head to watch the others. Ylvyron and Ylvaene, the Altmeri twins seemed to do well, Telindrel, the wood elf had stains all over her arms but seemed to enjoy herself and Ternil, the tiny Dunmer, was already done as well. It was a struggle to move his gaze toward Alisa, but he had to. A hard lump formed in his chest when he saw her. She had not slept well and her hair was hardly brushed. What was worse: She was fumbling and not yet half done when Anarenen declared the time was up.
The old alchemist nodded approvingly at the twins and chided Telindrel for the mess but applauded her for a genuine potion of restore intelligence. Ternil got a suspicious glance and after sniff at the potion Anarenen asked what it was supposed to be.
“It's a health draining poison,” Ternil said. He hoped to join Morag Tong one day.
Anarenen nodded. “I believe you, but I will confiscate this - for further examination.” Ternil pouted but he would never dream of freelancing anyway. That potion would have been too expensive, and dangerous, to use as rat poison.
Breonnarin was next. “A combined potion? You're playing high today.” Anarenen found no trace of contamination so he tasted one drop, like he had done with every potion before, except Ternil's. A faint purple aura formed around him. “It seems to be working too. Very good, boy. Now there's just...” Anarenen frowned. “Where did Alisa go?”
Alisa continued to be missing and Breonnarin was worried about her. There was one thing he had to do, though. Savela was smiling towards him from the opposite side of the large room. He swallowed and went to join her.
“Hello, Scuttle,” she purred and hugged him close. “We didn't finish the book last night.”
Breonnarin coughed. “No, we didn't.”
“Mmm, where's lunch?”
He was almost frightened and his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. “I didn't bring any.” Savela let go of him as if she had caught herself hugging a guar. “Your mother doesn't send you away without lunch and I know it.” That had been her argument the first time he shared a bit of his food with her.
“But... that's the snack for the lessons!”
“You eat during lectures? Nobody complains?” Breonnarin was disgusted. If somebody would start to eat in front of Anarenen... Or Edwinna!
“Only if they catch me.” Savela scowled at him. “Why have you stopped? Because you're done now? I had higher thoughts of you.”
“No, that's not the case. I...”
“You thought you could buy my affection? Bribe your way into the guild to hijack my contacts?” She was raging and her face looked nothing like it usually did. Cold and cunning eyes swept over him.
“I wanted to know whether you took me for the food!” Fear was replaced by humiliation. How dared she accuse him of that?
“What do you take me for? Do you think that I would have rewarded you like that if I didn't care at least a tiny bit? You would just have kept bringing lunch to me, no matter what I promised. You are the one who is selling yourself!” Savela snorted and left him standing on the floor. In a second she was hooking up with a miner.
The sound of fireballs hailing over the mountainside guided Breonnarin toward the little Breton. Her face was covered with tears and soot.
It would be unwise to sneak up on her, but even if he announced himself he could not be certain she would not burn him to ash. She turned around and saw him where he stood a hundred paces behind her. Breonnarin walked toward her slowly, trying to get eye contact. “You are a cryptic woman and I'm a buffoon,” he said as he came into earshot.
“I know.” She sent a mighty ball of ice towards the mountain, making the hot stone crack and cause an avalanche.
It was as if time stopped in intervals. One moment he watched the rocks roll down towards them, the other he was scooping her up with unnatural strength. Dazzled, he watched the spot, now covered with a heap of sharp rocks, from afar.
“Let me down!” Alisa attempted to kick him. The Altmer complied. His strength was failing and his legs nearly gave away without the extra weight. Was that her way of attempting suicide or was it just an accident? We could have been... Those rocks would have crushed them like dropped kwama eggs. They sat down on the ashen ground, panting.
“I didn't intend for that to happen,” Alisa sobbed suddenly. “Forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you! But can you ever forgive me? I'm such a fool. I didn't read that note until this morning and I would never have noticed anything special with it if my father hadn't seen it.”
“I wouldn't think that of Ghijedalyn. He doesn't seem to be the witty type.” The tears stopped. “You should listen to him more often.”
“You can't make me change right away,” he teased.
“I saw you and Savela meet on the bridge last night. I live at Aunt Cienne's house, you know.” She was the alchemist in the manor district. “What makes you think I would forgive you?”
“But I had no idea... I've stopped seeing her!” What was he supposed to say?
“You didn't even like her and yet you sold yourself completely. It doesn't matter that you realised the mistake. You don't know love.” She rose up, dusted off her skirt and started to walk back to the guild hall.
Breonnarin ran to catch up with her. “But I've always thought you were pretty and smart. It was just your attitude that drove me off.” How was he supposed to see through the play when she almost fooled herself?
“You caused that attitude!”
“You've always treated me like that!”
“You're impossible! Leave me alone!”
“We're going in the same direction.”
“Just be quiet, then.”
Breonnarin's mouth was taut and he felt like tearing his own hair. Why couldn't she just have fainted from the shock and woke up happily in the arms of her saviour, all hard feelings forgotten, like in the stories? He racked his brain for memories of the first time they met but he could not possibly get any images. They reached the guild hall together without another word said.
“There he is!”
“Thief!”
Breonnarin only had time to react before he was dragged between two guards to face Anarenen.
“What is this supposed to mean?” Anarenen was waving an enchanted tanto at him.
“Don't cut me up with that!”
“Cut you up? I'll skin you! This was a gift from your mother so how dare you steal it from me?” His furrowed face turned ruddy from the screaming.
“Steal? I haven't...”
“Do you take me for a fool? Everyone knows that you have contact with Thieves Guild and Aengoth has been after this weapon for years.” Anarenen stepped closer and threatened to drive the extremely sharp tanto straight through Breonnarin's unprotected chest.
“Stop that!” a voice thundered from the door. Removing his dusty helm, Ghijedalyn gave Anarenen a disgusted look. “Stop threatening him. It's not your lot to deal with justice.”
Tucking away the tanto Anarenen crossed his arms. “It's not yours either.”
“How could I steal your tanto when you've got it?” Breonnarin snarled.
“It was found in your bag when we searched the hall with an enchantment detection spell!”
“I haven't touched my bag since I got here, not even to have lunch, and I've just been outside for several minutes! Wouldn't it be extremely stupid of me to go out and leave it there? Isn't it obvious that someone wanted me to get caught?”
“Not for lunch? All of it was eaten!” Anarenen said triumphantly. “You dirty little liar.”
Breonnarin moaned. This was Savela's revenge. How would he be able to prove that a supposedly dim witted maid was behind it? He could not. Squealing about a superior member would ruin his chances in the guild as well, but this would be bad for his other career. He had to choose. It was not an ultimate way of life to steal things, but he hated everything but making potions in Mages Guild. He would not mind stepping back from that. “If you don't believe me you may expel me.”
Anarenen shook his head. The guards looked at each other and then at Ghijedalyn. “The stolen property is returned. That is all that is needed to repay a crime. There's no damaged property to replace either.”
“Even so, The Mages Guild does not tolerate thieves, even if they don't steal from other members.” Edwinna Elbert stepped forward from where she had stood listening. “You are now expelled Breonnarin. Contact Arch-Mage Trebonius Artorius if you wish to make amends.”
Breonnarin was escorted back to Llethri manor by his father. “This is bad for your career, but it could have been worse. What were you thinking?” Ghijedalyn's face was a neutral mask and he spoke with a low voice.
“I don't want to talk of this any more.”
“Aengoth is having a bad influence on you.”
“Dad! I said...”
“I'm sorry, but you don't seem to care that much about being expelled. Am I right?”
Breonnarin sighed. “Yes, you're right. I'm constantly behind schedule and I hate almost everything but listening to dwarven history and making potions. It's just impossible for me to absorb all the abstract information and you know I don't have enough magicka to make a pea roll.”
They ascended the steps just outside the Skar. “I'm thinking of retiring, Breonnarin.”
“Why? You're not that old.” His father only had a little grey in his blonde hair and was still strong as a bull and a better fighter than anyone with sword and axe.
“I just feel that I'm done here. I've saved up quite a lot of money and I was given a little patch of land on the border to Hlaalu territory, just over the mountains to the south, after settling a dispute between the Houses last year. If I get permission by Duke Dren I'm intending to build a house there.” Then his wide mouth formed a smile for the first time. “It's close to Caldera. There is always room for another errand boy in a Hlaalu town and there's a little guild hall there if you feel like going back to your studies. Besides, the air in West Gash is a lot cleaner. It would be good for your health. You've started to sound like a Dunmer lately...”
Breonnarin just nodded to all that his father had to say and pondered upon how he had managed to make his life keel over in such a short time.