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Chapter 1: Recommended
"Hmm... yes.
You're quite skilled, aren't you?" Edwinna said, brushing a stray brown hair
out of her eyes as she read over the recommendation written by an old friend
of hers. She glanced up at the Altmer, who was staring at her intently. "Well,
if Restinal says you have skill, I'm inclined to believe him. He always had
good judgment before now."
"I am glad to
hear that. He told me working for you would be... interesting." The Altmer
said.
"That sounds like
him." Edwinna folded the letter, sliding it into the pocket of her dark blue
robe. "Of course, I like to make my own assessments of a person's skill."
The Altmer
nodded. "That's understandable. What would you like me to do?"
"Alma."
"Sorry?"
The door behind
him creaked open, and the Altmer glanced over his shoulder. A Breton with
short red hair walked in, a sheathed iron sabre hanging on the belt of her red
robe. "This the one?" She asked, looking over the Altmer.
"Yes. Ressanen,
this is Alma, one of the guild's finer spellswords. Alma, this is Ressanen, an
excellent mage according to an old friend of mine." Edwinna said, walking over
to Alma. "Alma, you go over the mission with him, I see someone that is long
overdue on one of his jobs." She hurried out the door at a Breton with
shoulder-length brown hair that had just started down the staircase. "NEM!"
Ressanen saw the
Breton jump in surprise and fall down the staircase just before the door
closed, blocking the view. He looked at Alma and smiled politely. "Well, I'm
ready whenever you want to tell me my mission."
Alma chuckled.
"You're slow for an Altmer. I'm not giving you a mission; Miss Elbert could
have done that herself. I'm here to gauge your power."
"Oh? How do we go
about that?" Ressanen inquired. He hadn't expected a test, just a trial
mission.
"Strip." Alma
said simply, a serious expression on her face.
"I... I beg your
pardon?" He stuttered.
"You heard me,
strip. Lose the shiny golden robe, along with anything underneath it."
"Er..." He
glanced nervously at his robe, then to his right wrist and back at Alma. "May
I ask why?"
"Physical
examination. Just to see how well built you are. Standard for newcomers to the
Guild, nothing to worry about."
His eyes flicked
to his wrist again, then to his chest. "But..."
"Do you need a
hand? I'd be happy to help."
"N-no... I
just..." He nervously raised his hand to the belt of his robe. "I'm just-"
Alma started
laughing, leaning against the door. "You should see the look on your face,
it's priceless!"
Ressanen just
stared blankly at her for a moment. "I... what?" He asked, feeling very
confused.
"Sorry, I just
couldn't help myself. Every Altmer I meet is almost always stuck-up or
serious. Seeing one with an expression like you have is a rare sight, plus I
always annoy new guys the first chance I get." She said, still laughing.
He frowned,
tightening his belt. "If you're done trying to be funny, maybe you could tell
me how you're going to test me."
"Oh, that? I'm
just supposed to go with you on a mission and see how well you perform,
nothing major."
"Nice to know my
tester has a sense of humor." He said sarcastically. "Can we get this over
with?"
"Anytime you're
ready, Res. I can explain things on the way."
They set out
immediately. Ressanen had no interest in prolonging his time with such an
annoying Breton. Alma, however, found annoying him, or any other Altmer for
that matter, a great way to spend time. She did try to be nice though,
attempting to strike up a conversation with him all the way to Maar Gan. She
didn't manage to, but she deserved credit for persistence. She was still at it
as the silt strider came to a stop.
"Come on, you had
to have come from somewhere! I'm only asking where! I told you I'm from High
Rock, you owe me an answer!" Alma said, following him as he climbed off the
strider.
"I did not ask
where you were from, and as most Bretons are from High Rock, it's logical
that's where you would be from. I don't owe you a thing." Ressanen said
coldly. He couldn't believe how annoying she was. He had only met one Breton
this irritating before now, and he was fairly certain that Alma topped that
one. "Where are we going now?"
"Some tomb." She
replied crossly.
"Could you be a
little more specific?"
"Could you be a
little nicer?"
Ressanen sighed.
"Fine, as long as you don't start getting on my nerves again."
"Deal. The tomb
is northeast of town, but I don't know the name of it."
"You're not much
help, are you?"
"I'm supposed to
just be watching you, so if I'm not being much help it means I'm doing my
job." She retorted. "It shouldn't be that difficult to figure out, or have you
forgotten the clue we got?"
"No. It's not
much help though." He said, walking through the town's gateway.
"It's better than
nothing."
Ressanen trudged
along, blasting cliff racers out of the sky with his fireball spell as he
went. The things were everywhere, and Alma was just walking silently behind
him not bothering to lift a finger to help him kill the racers that bombarded
him constantly. Every brief break in the attacks he got he used to cast his
detect enchantment spell.
The job was to
locate a tomb that a guild member had lost his enchanted staff in while trying
to escape a small army of bonewalkers that rushed him in the main chamber. The
detect spell wouldn't do much good for finding it where they were, since it
would be too far underground. However, the person that lost it hid one of his
unimportant enchanted amulets in the dirt outside the entrance so he could
find the place again.
"There!" Ressanen
said suddenly after torching another cliff racer.
Alma stopped,
looking around. "There, what?"
"I sense it...
the amulet. At least, I think that's what it is. I doubt anything else with an
enchantment would be in a place like this." He had a point. They had come a
long way from Maar Gan, onto some road that appeared to be traveled sparingly.
If it had a bit more use, maybe there wouldn't be so many cliff racers.
"Which way?"
She didn't need
to ask, Ressanen had already started off in the direction he felt the
enchantment from at a quick pace. A tomb entrance came into view, but he
didn't stop until he was a few feet away from it and off to the right. He
reached down and pulled the amulet from beneath the dirt, shaking some of the
sand and ash off before pocketing it. "One down, now for the staff."
The tomb door
slid open easily, the smells of dust, mold and decay seeping out from inside.
A mingle of odors that reminded Ressanen of his homeland, old ambitions, and
painful memories. He unconsciously placed his right hand on his chest and left
on his right wrist.
"Are you okay?"
Alma asked, sincere concern in her voice. He had been
standing there for longer than he thought and was bearing a pained expression.
For all she knew one of those cliff racers had gotten a lucky shot in.
"I'm fine." He
lied, returning his hands to his sides and venturing into the tomb.
Alma followed him in, not fully believing him.
Three explosions
boomed loudly in the confined interior of the tomb, and the three bonewalkers
that had attacked lay on the floor, their bodies charred and smoking. Ressanen
had made short work of the ones before those, leading them to the main chamber
faster than Alma expected. Ressanen dropped one final bonewalker and started
up the short staircase toward a mound of ash and bone where the staff they
were looking for was laying.
Ressanen stared
at it, the end jammed into the mound and it standing up as if it was on
display. It seemed off to him, but Alma calling for him to hurry up from by
the doorway distracted him long enough not to notice until he had grabbed it.
The story the owner of it told them was that he dropped it near the stairs,
not left it sitting where they had found it.
Ressanen turned
to run, realizing it must be some sort of trap. He didn't notice the flicker
of light as he did, and what appeared from it. Alma yelled for him to look
out, running at him, but she was too far away. Ressanen glanced back just in
time to see the dremora's sword descending toward his face.
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