The group's return to Falkreath was met with a relatively large group of people... A quarter to half the town had apparently come out, having heard of their expedition to find Lohir and deal with the bear.
The cheers quickly died down when they noticed the solemn mood of the group however, everyone made way as Valdr and his friends carried the humongous bear pelt in which Lohir's corpse was wrapped up.
Even the Jarl had come out to observe, giving Michael his first glimpse of this land's nobility. And much to his chagrin, the man looked exactly how he thought he would.
Dengeir of Stuhn was a tall broad-shouldered yet fat man, he wore lavish-looking clothes that almost looked good enough for a noble back in Halkeginia to wear. Jewellery of all kinds covered his neck, hands, and wrists... His face was narrow, with wrinkles that made him look as if he were always frowning, with dark bags under his eyes as if he'd not slept in days. He had wispy grey hair that was balding at the front, and a large grey beard that almost reached his chest.
All in all, he looked like every fat, lazy and cruel noble he'd had the misfortune of meeting back in Halkeginia. He only hoped the man wouldn't be as obnoxious as his appearance implied.
At Dengeir's side was his steward, whose name was Nenya from what Michael had heard from the gossiping locals. Nenya was the first High Elf he'd ever personally seen, and boy, trying to get Tiffania to fit in would be a big struggle. The High Elf had cut her blond hair short, allowing her rather stubby elven ears to show. She had golden eyes and pale skin that was tinted yellow, it looked more natural than sickly however. Lastly, despite being female, she towered over the Jarl by a head, showing that her races proclivity of height didn't only affect the men.
Her forehead was more pronounced, as her chin was sharp like the rest of her features... If he had to compare it to an animal, he'd say she looked like an eagle. Lastly, she was thin, with small breasts and skinny limbs, certainly more suited to magic or archery than physical combat.
Despite how exotic she was though, he much preferred how Tiffania looked... Her pale white skin, curves, and 'softness' easily beat out whatever curious attraction he held for the High Elf.
His eyes meet with Nenya's and he only now realises that she'd been watching him examine her... A grin appears on her face as she winks at him, causing Michael to furrow his brow... Wasn't she like, forty years old or something?... "Even if she doesn't look it..." he mentally remarks, catching himself and shaking his head again. Why would she be interested in him in the first place? Right now he was literally covered in dried blood...
He pulls his eyes away from the High Elf and continues following the group, as they carry Lohir's body to the Hall of the Dead. Michael departs as they reach the entrance of the graveyard however, headed back to the Dead Man's Drink so that the people who actually knew and cared about Lohir could properly grieve.
"Michael, you're back." Valga greets as he steps through the doors, her nose scrunching as she spots the state of him. "Nope! You're not coming in here looking and smelling like that! Go clean yourself before I personally throw you in the river!" she says, Illococoo next to her quickly nodding her head in agreement as her nostrils flare.
...
"Fine, but I'll remember this!" he says, shaking his fist at her before leaving, ignoring the laughs and jeers of the other patrons.
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"Second time's the charm." Valga says as she looks Michael over, nodding at his fresh clothes and still damp hair.
"Whatever, maybe you should look to have a bath installed or someth-" Michael starts but is interrupted as Illococoo grabs his hand and pulls him towards the room where Charlotte's mother is staying.
"H-hold up! What's the rush!" he stutters out as Illococoo pushes him into the room, allowing him to come face to face with Charlotte who was trying to brush her mother's hair, much to the woman's irritation.
"Big sis is awake!" Illococoo happily exclaims, skipping into the room and spinning once before glomping onto the short glasses-wearing girl.
"Illococoo calm..." Charlotte quietly chides before looking over to Michael, "Are you well?"
Michael slowly nods, "Yeah, but I should be asking you that instead. You've been passed out for days now..." he blinks, "Is Tiffania up as well?"
Charlotte shakes her head, "No..."
He lets out a sigh, "Thought that might be so... How're you feeling? You passed out as soon as you tried to use your magic..." he says meaningfully. If she would pass out every time she tried to use magic, she was done as a mage... But the only reason he see that was causing this was the new world they were in... What made this world's magic different compared to the last?
Charlotte's lips thin as she stiffly picks up her staff that was leaning against the wall, Michael's eyes widen and he tries to stop her, only for it to be too late as a spell leaves her lips.
"Breeze." she chants, tilting her staff forwards and causing all the air in the room to begin circulating around the room, the temperature dipping slightly.
Michael ignores all that however, instead focussing on Charlotte, watching to see if she'd be out of commission for another few days.
...
Only for her to casually rest her staff back against the wall and continue brushing her mother's hair. "Easy."
"Wait, how?... Did you try to cast a spell before I got here?" he asks, dumbfounded, knowing that her confidence must've come from somewhere.
Illococoo nods for her, "Big sis was annoyed when she woke up, so she summoned water to drink..."
Huh, he hadn't really thought about it, but it seemed that Charlotte was proud of her magic... Enough so that she'd risk harming herself to make sure she still had it.
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Once Michael was sure Charlotte wasn't going to drop dead, he gives her a quick explanation about what he'd been doing since they'd arrived. His venture into a crypt, fighting a vampire(which he'd had to explain to them as neither knew what a vampire was), and then him going off to help find Lohir...
"I know where a priest who might be able to heal your mother is, but... He's going to be kind of busy." he says, the duo nodding in understanding. Falkreath wasn't a very popular place to live, with its only real produce being lumbar and forest bandits. Thus only a single Priest or healer was really needed. Of course, there were other 'healers' around, those who dabbled in using herbs or making 'poultices', but from what Michael had seen, they were just people playing with First Aid and unrefined alchemy.
"I think the most important thing is to get you guys familiar with the local language. I don't know if there's any spells for that, I remember Colbert using one but whether or not you know it?" he shrugs, "So, unless you've got a spell for it, Illu can teach you what she's learned from Valga over the past couple of days." he says, knowing that Illococoo had been staving off boredom by getting Valga to tutor her. She'd actually learned quite a lot, but he just chalked that up to her being a Rhyme Dragon.
Charlotte frowns, "Do not know the spell... Square Magic?" she says with a questioning tone, sounding as if she were grilling herself for knowledge.
Michael shrugs, "Alright, you two get on that. I'll bring you to the Priest once he done with Lohir's funeral. For now, I'm going to check on Tiffania, I think you guys need to adapt to this new world's magic, and since Tiffania used a very intensive spell beforehand..." he trails off as he gets up, the rest not needing to be said.
Charlotte nods, and he could hear Illococoo begging to match Tamrielic to Halkeginian languages. For example, saying tree in one language, then the next. He wasn't sure how long it'd take Charlotte to pick up, but she was smart and still young.
He ducks into the next room and sits on the bed where Tiffania was sleeping. He stares at her for a moment before...
*Squish*
Poking her in the cheek and waiting for a reaction. Her face scrunched up as she turns onto her side, but no cigar, she wasn't awake. "Yo, Tiff, you gotta wake up... You're gonna miss out on Sweet Rolls and whatever other shit they've got here." he says while shaking her shoulder.
"NNNNnnnnnn..." the girl groans, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise...
He tries a few other things to wake her up, eventually leading to him dripping a few drops of cold water onto her forehead... Unfortunately, this doesn't get the response he was looking for... Tiffania sucks in air in response, her body beginning to hyperventilate.
"Oh, shit." he swears, watching as this continues for three minutes until finally slowing. "Alright, no more trying to wake her up." he mutters to himself, not wanting to see what else could happen if he persisted. Whatever was happening refused to let her wake up, so all he could do right now was wait and hope.
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Elsewhere :
"So, you say it was the boy who slew the animal?" Jarl Dengeir inquires from his throne, raking his hands through his beard in interest but also a concern.
Nenya nods, "That's what they say, this Michael has not been here long yet he has already contributed much to the Hold. There are even rumours of him slaying a coven of Vampires, though, that would need to be investigated."
The Jarl furrows his brows, "And what would a warrior such as he want here? They could have gone anywhere else for anything else. He wants gold? Riften. He wants fame? The capital. The boy wants a challenge? The companions in Whiterun... Nenya, I feel there's a plot afoot." he says with a dire expression, though, it doesn't last long as Nenya scoffs at him.
"You think there're plots everywhere my liege. Have you forgotten that most people visiting from the Empire on foot pass through here? Even if he intended to stay, I believe we should make use of him instead of scaring away an asset."
Dengeir lots out a huff of annoyance at his steward's disrespect, but doesn't comment on it due to how long they'd known each other. "You trust too easily Nenya, one day it'll be the doom of us all..."
The High Elf just shakes her head, "You with your excessive ideas."
"What would you have me do then? Throw a sword at him and name him Thane? Maybe hand him a bushel of roses while I'm at it!?"
Nenya gives him a look, "No, none of that. Just give thanks for his service when you have the opportunity. You do give me some ideas though, we are in need of another Thane after old Tsurand passed." she adds, "Maybe we could see if he's worthy of such a title? Even if he turns out to be a fool, having a strong warrior beside you when you journey to Solitude would be a boon."
Dengeir shakes his head, "No, I'd rather have a born and raised Nord take the position."
Nenya crooks a brow with a deceptive grin, "Oh? Then you must have someone in mind then?"
...
The Jarl coughs into his fist and looks away, "I was intended to ask Lohir again, but well..."
Nenya shakes her head, "Well, the way I see it is you either have to find someone else, or pick choose between a foreigner or a dead man who'd likely not trade Sovngarde for it, especially after he refused last time." she says, treading carefully around the subject as the Jarl and Lohir used to be quite close.
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