Fredas, 22^nd Last Seed, 4E 201

I started the day by visiting Aethsela, my room in a pocket plane of Aetherius. Ayleidoon is a beautiful language, and the names of places are often descriptive of their function. Aethsela derives from aeth, which means ‘sacred light’, and sela, which, in this instance, means ‘ordered time’ or ‘hallowed duration.’

Aethsela allowed me to study for many years without aging. So, chronologically, I am twenty-two years of age. But since leaving my Roscrean home at the age of eighteen, I have lived twenty years, not four.

Aethsela, and my time with the Psijic Order and Dragonguard, have provided the chance to study religion, history, martial tactics, fighting techniques and the Thu’um to levels of expertise not achievable in a twenty-two-year lifespan.

I know many Words of Power and Shouts. Lady Kynareth says I have mastered more than any mortal in history. However, my Thu’um needs focusing. That cannot be achieved through rote exercises. Only in battle will instincts hone and concentrate The Voice so that all its energy is devoted to a Shout’s purpose. Lady Kynareth has also provided a special shrine in High Hrothgar, the home of the Greybeards, to aid with focus.

I have learned and used Shouts within Aethsela, a pocket plane of Aetherius with barriers. The use of The Voice will not be detected outside of its walls. The existence of a Dragonborn must be hidden until Alduin’s arrival. No barrier in Mundus would prevent the Greybeards from detecting its use. Therefore, I have not used it on Nirn.

The Divines know my objection to the soul absorption that occurs when a Dov dies near me. Their Lifeforce and Consciousness enter my soul. The Dov’s soul is removed from this and any future kalpa. They are erased. Unfortunately, The Nine can do nothing about it. Lord Akatosh may be the Celestial Father of dragons, but The Divines do not control the metaphysics of the Aurbis. They designed the metaphysics of Mundus within the constraints of Aurbis metaphysics. The destruction of vanquished Dov cannot be prevented, and therefore, I will have to endure it. That makes me determined to minimise Dov casualties.

I know a lot, but am surrounded by others with more expertise in certain areas. After all, many of them were my teachers, and I do not claim to know more than they do.

Although fond of Aethsela, for it is a place of peace and learning, I visit it for set tasks, not to reminisce. It is also an ideal place to speak to Father, for it is far less effort for his avatar to appear here than on Nirn. I cannot conceive of how the minds of The Divines process thoughts, but he assures me that visiting Aethsela lightens the burden.

I was in Aethsela to retrieve a gift from my friend, Nafaalilargus or, as I call him, Nafaalilar. People have the misconception that dragons cannot craft things. That is far from the truth, and my Dov friend has created a beautiful set of armour of ebony with red highlights. Red and black is my favourite colour scheme, so I instantly fell in love with the armour. Many of my friends also like that aesthetics, and their chosen armour or robes are red and black.

The helm, shield and other parts of the armour depict a Dov. That is a clue to my identity that Mother would appreciate.

I would proudly use the surname Septim, but that would cause too many issues. Valdr was the given name Father chose. As mother often said, ‘Valdr is not an Ayleid word, but it has the shape of one that remembers power.’ Valdr is an ancient Nordic word for Wolf.

I needed a pseudonym, and Father chose Wulf, as he was fond of using it when his avatar interacted with mortals. Mother chose Welkynd as my surname, for it also hints at my origin. Only students of Ayleidoon, of which there are very few, might know its alternate meaning. Most scholars and laypeople think Welkynd refers to Ayleid light stones. That is one interpretation, but when applied to my surname, it means Star Child or, to give it full Ayleid mumbo jumbo, Child of Celestial Light.

Thus, Wulf Welkynd hints at my origin and is therefore an apt pseudonym.

My first time wearing Nafaalilar’s gift would be to visit Falkreath’s prison, where Flint was being held prisoner. I am not sure of his crime, but a twelve-foot-tall Minotaur is not going to be treated well. He broke the rules of Aetheron, the refuge my mother built for us on Nirn, by leaving via its hidden portal. Aetheron is another symbolic name that means Aetherial Refuge. Although a pocket plane of Mundus, Mother thought the name appropriate. If you wanted to add Ayleid mumbo-jumbo to it, it could be interpreted as ‘High Luminous Sanctuary.’

Flint is the equivalent of a teenager, even though he has lived longer than any Man and quite a few Mer. Therefore, his father, Granite, urged me to have some restraint when dealing with him. I will try, but he risked much by leaving Aetheron. Perhaps it is best I leave the earned lecture and scolding to his father, with the aid of my dual-wielding and unarmed combat instructor, Shiva. She may be a Swordmaster, but her ability to humble a miscreant with words is feared more.

I do not teleport via spell to and from Aethsela but use willpower to arrive and leave. Before willing myself to a forest near Falkreath, I looked out at Aetherius. I have floated with my parents amongst the stars, and its beauty always makes me yearn for those simpler days. The light from the stars provides the Magicka to sustain Aethsela. That is the sacred light within its name. The stars speak a language that I have yet to master. Their sound reminds me of a busy inn where many conversations rise and fall, but you fail to catch the words.

I came out of the ether amongst dense trees and out of sight. I have a house in Falkreath’s Hold, but it is still under construction and a fair distance away. So, the trees were my best option for arriving undetected.

I quickly made my way to Falkreath’s prison. Only a few people recognised me, and I politely answered a few questions regarding my armour. The delay was not long, and I always try to remain civil. I was also informed by many of the giant horned beast locked in the jailhouse.

Markarth’s guards were more than happy to give me access to Flint. They were at a loss as to what to do with him.

I looked at Flint through the cell’s bars. He knew he had done wrong and could not stand the silent accusations in my stare.

Flint was twice the size of his father, Granite. His cellmate kept looking at him warily. I do not blame him!

Flint’s voice was a deep baritone, almost Thu’um-like in its power. We spoke in Ayleidoon, his native language. That allowed us to speak of secrets.

Flint demanded, “Take me home, Wulf. I cannot abide the fear and hatred surrounding me.”

“We are in public, Dragonguard Flint. Therefore, you will address me with my civilian or Dragonguard title. You are also in no position to demand anything.”

“Lord Wulf, will you please have me released so I can return home?”

“Why did you leave Aetheron?”

“I was bored. I wanted to hunt. I would have remained undetected in the deep forest if not for the drunk idiots who stumbled upon me.”

“Tell me the details. Do not gloss over them!”

“I was deep in the forest where only experienced hunters dare go, and only in numbers. I encountered many boars, wolves, Spriggans, and bears, but they are not afraid of me; therefore, they do not run and provide little sport. Although I do enjoy wrestling with angry bears on occasion.”

“Yes, your scars are a testament to how amusing bear wrestling can be.”

“I hunted that most allusive of forest creatures, rabbits. They fear anything bigger than them. They run fast, but never in a straight line, and are expert at diving for cover under roots or anything else that might protect them.”

“I am well aware of rabbit behaviour, Dragonguard Flint.”

“Yes, well, I nabbed myself a brace of bunnies and cooked them over open flames. No seasoning, just natural juices that add to a gamy flavour I adore.”

“Careful, you might start drooling.”

“I was crunching my way through my fourth rabbit when four idiots stumbled into the clearing. They stank of booze and wore finery. Each one had a fancy crossbow and rapier. Not ideal weapons for hunting, and their clothes were that of city fops, not grizzled hunters.”

“Did they recognise what you are?”

“They were too drunk to be scared and stood staring at me. Then their leader said, ‘Moo!’ before they collapsed into fits of laughter.”

“They would not be laughing if it were a Sabre Tooth or bear or pack of wolves in the clearing.”

“They were dead idiots walking if they continued their hunting trek. As it were, a bear came running from the opposite side and headed for them. The laughter turned to shrieks. None of them reached for their rapier or crossbow. Two of them ran, which diverted the bear from the two who stood still while shrieking. I yelled, ‘Get closer to the fire. Do not move from this clearing!’ I then chased down the bear as it was about to maul the slower idiot.”

“So, you got to do some bear wrestling?”

“Unfortunately, no. I doubted the two I left in the clearing would ignore my advice, and the two runners were heading in the right direction to reach the road. So, I tackled the surprised bear and held it until I could no longer hear the runners. I then let it go, preparing to fight if needed, but its quarry was gone. It stared at me, grunted, and then wandered off at a tangent to where the two runners had gone.”

“Were the other two waiting in the clearing?”

“They were eating my last rabbit!!!”

“Oh no, you had only eaten three of them! You must have been starving!”

“It was the audacity that fuelled my growl. The fools looked my way, startled, and I think fear was finally overcoming booze for one of them. The other, who I think was their leader because his clothes were the fanciest, was still stupid.

• Sepsius: See, Bettimil, I told you it was not the mead. We have met a mythic beast.
• Bettimil: Show some respect, Sepsius. He saved our lives!
• Sepsius: How do you know it is a he?
• Bettimil: You do know the difference between bulls and cows?
• Sepsius: Yeah, if it were female, that would be udderly obvious!

Sepsius burst out laughing. Bettimil looked worried as I walked slowly towards them.

• Flint: Your friends were headed for the main road to Falkreath. I suggest you do the same before some other predator decides you look tasty.
• Sepsius: I do not know if beasts understand rank, but peasants do not tell nobles what to do.
• Bettimil: He made a wise suggestion. He did not order you.
• Sepsius: Shush! How will you learn to control your peasants if you keep interrupting?
• Bettimil: And how do you know what social rank our friend here holds?
• Sepsius: Minotaurs were hunted because they are beasts with no morals, and certainly lack nobility!
• Flint: Emperor Belharza was a Minotaur. His shit had more nobility than whatever family you claim to be from. Can your mother even remember who sired you, or are you a bastard?

I had to laugh. Flint has a caustic tongue, and if there is one thing that will burst through the fog of alcohol, it is familial insults.

“Sepsius drew his rapier and staggered towards me. I chuckled as I grabbed it, bent it 180 degrees, then tossed it into the bushes. He fumbled for his crossbow, which he had left cocked, and almost shot himself in the foot. I grabbed that and felt a bit guilty because it was of superb craftsmanship, and snapped it in two. The halves joined his bent rapier in the dense undergrowth.”

“What did Bettimil do?”

He pleaded, “Please do not kill Sepsius! It is the drink talking! He can be quite nice, sometimes, or at least a bit less obnoxious.”

I nodded and said, “Sepsius needed a lesson.”

“I am glad you agree, Lord Wulf. Bettimil showed no intention of drawing a weapon. I winked at him, then I grabbed Sepsius and held him upside down by one leg. I then headed towards my fire.”

• Sepsius: What are you doing? I command you to release me at once!
• Flint: You ate my rabbit, and I am mightily hungry. Should I shove the spit through your innards or throw you in the coals and hope your fat renders properly?
• Sepsius: Help me, Bettimil!
• Bettimil: We did steal his rabbit, Sepsius. Besides, he might have heard some of those insulting jokes.
• Flint: Tell me some, Bettimil. I like a good pun.
• Bettimil: Never believe a Minotaur because…
• Flint: They are full of bullshit. That is so old even the Dwemer knew it.
• Bettimil: He said that you were not coming back because you had mooved on.
• Flint: A bit better. Keep going.
• Bettimil: If we cut off one of your legs, you would be lean beef.
• Flint: Now, that is funny. I like violence.
• Bettimil: If we cut both off, you would be ground beef.
• Flint: Rapiers are not good for sawing off legs. Lend me yours, and I shall demonstrate.
• Sepsius: No! Please, let me go!

“I lowered the shaking, crying Sepsius to the ground and growled, ‘Are you sure you are noble? You have soiled your fancy britches, and they do not smell like roses. Now keep quiet while I put out the fire and leave the scraps for the scavengers.’”

I laughed and remarked, “Lesson taught.”

“Sort of. Inbred stupidity was high in Sepsius’ lineage. The two of them did remain silent, apart from Bettimil’s disgusted sniff and gag when close to Sepsius. I allowed Bettimil to keep his weapons, and we headed as a trio to Falkreath. The city guards were a bit startled to see me and greeted us with weapons drawn. Sepsius started telling lies and ordered the guards to slaughter the beast. Bettimil told him to shut up and then spoke the truth. So, I ended up in here, an enigma that I hope you will resolve, Lord Wulf.”

“I am not going to lecture you, Dragonguard Flint. Swordmaster Shiva and your father will do an effective job of that. Let me speak to the guards. We will have to exit the jail, for it has barriers to prevent teleportation. You are likely to be insulted by the residents of Falkreath. You are not to say a word, growl or even scowl.”

“And then you will teleport us to Aetheron!”

“People have seen me teleport, although I try not to appear in the middle of busy streets. But I will not teleport us until you and I have walked out of the city and into the forest. You are too sensitive to the barbs and insults of people whose crime is ignorance. So, think of it as a walk of shame to which you will meekly endure.”

“Nothing they say will be as biting as Shiva’s dressing down.”

“I would be more concerned about the disapproval of the others who keep our secrets. The disappointment on your father’s face should humble you.”

I spoke to one of the senior guards, who was more than happy to hand Flint over to me.

As we walked the main street of Falkreath, the main insults came from elderly Nords. Khajiiti, Mer and Argonian know prejudice and did not deal it out. The children were curious and bombarded us with a myriad of questions. Flint did look ashamed, for he was expecting far more vitriol.

Children would probably have followed us into the forest. So, I stopped short of entering it and teleported us into Aetheron’s barracks. Shiva and Granite took charge of Flint and marched him into one of the bedrooms for a well-earned lecture. I headed to my chambers, grabbing a plate full of food on the way.

Today I was to help with the excavation of an Akaviri outpost that dated from their invasion and surrender to Reman Cyrodiil. However, there was still time for me to sit, relax and read some obscure tome in front of a not-needed, but welcoming fire.

I had barely stepped into my study when Silah popped out of the ether.

“You are supposed to ask permission first, Silah. Like polite beings knock on my chamber’s doors first.”

“Alduin appeared at The Throat of the World a few minutes ago. He traded insults with Paarthurnax before flying away and vanishing into the ether.”

“He will need to stock up on souls, plus figure out the status quo of not just Skyrim, but all of Nirn.”

“Indeed, we do not think he will restart the Dragon War for some time. He needs to build his strength and strategise.”

“He will start with reviving some of the Dov buried around Skyrim and elsewhere. Odahviing will be the first.”

“You may regret not taking action against the interred Dov.”

“Do you think so? Would I be the Wulf you know if I did that?”

“No, I am sorry. It would not be the Wulf I love who did that.”

“You are rattled, Silah. Has Alduin’s appearance caused a Dragon Break?”

“No, we were unsure as to the nature of the Time Wound, but were certain it was not going to be a trigger for a Dragon Break. However, the Junction is huge, much larger than any we have seen before.”

“That just means more parallel timelines are possibilities. Aurbis Metaphysics will be busy culling them.”

“I have asked before, and you did not answer me. Do you know what caused another large junction about six weeks ago?”

“You and the other Jills haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Without context, we do not know where, or when, to look.”

“Look along the border of Bruma and Skyrim, in the Jerall Mountains.”

“Which side?”

“The Skyrim side, but not far in.”

“Why won’t you tell us what caused it?”

“For personal reasons, Silah. That should be enough of a clue. Plus, it is a mystery to me why a major Junction was the result. I need to understand that before I discuss it further.”

“We experienced a similar Junction just after you turned eighteen, didn’t we?”

“Ooh, I think Silah, Queen of the Jill Gossip Club, is starting to understand.”

“Lord Talos will want to discuss this with you.”

“I am busy today, and probably tomorrow, and maybe for the next month or so as I prepare for the slaughter to begin.”

“Let us hope you have that long.”

“I cannot warn High Queen Elisif, General Tullius or Ulfric Stormcloak. The Dragonguard, or what is left of us, will be ready, but is that sufficient? I will have far more concerns than sating Father’s curiosity.”

“Normal mortals rarely cause such ripples in time, Valdr. I doubt it is a coincidence she has reappeared in your life at this moment.”

“She has a name, Silah. She has given me one.”

“She is Rigmor. You are her Guardian.”

“She called for me in her time of need, Silah, but I lost the ethereal connection when she became unconscious. She did not die, for I am certain I would know if she did.”

“Then I will want to hear the tale when you are ready, Valdr. As a friend, and Lord Talos will want to discuss it as Father and Son, not Divine and mortal.”

“He seems to have lost that fake personality since Mother entered the battle of wills with Molag Bal.”

“Was your upbringing fake? Did two gods risk all to have a mortal child out of a need to play tricks and games?”

“The Divines needed a mortal champion.”

“You do not believe that. You are letting your concern for Saint Alessia cloud your judgment. Where is the compassion you have in abundance? Do you think Lord Talos can function without his mortal elements intruding? He is as lost as you without Saint Alessia’s guidance. Try looking from his perspective, then come and talk to us.”

“I do not know who is more effective at nagging, you or Shiva.”

“Lord Akatosh is the undisputed Champion of Nagging. I can but aspire to be a fraction as good as he.”

“I had better discuss this with the others. Every Dragonguard must be on alert and ready for action twenty-four by seven.”

“You have all planned well for this. You will do well when called upon.”

“Let us hope we do, for the sake of Nirn.”

Silah vanished, and I made my way to the barracks.