บท 4: Learning magick
As the night passed, I couldn't sleep like my companion Khajiit. Haaa!... of course not, where was my system to make me powerful?
Where were my cheats?
"Oh!" I ranted in anger. "Why did it have to be in The Elder Scrolls?"
Damn, this reality without any cheats was more hardcore than anything. I was just a Breton with no knowledge of the basics of magic.
"This way, death awaits me," I said frustrated, pacing back and forth.
I had to learn magic; it was a matter of life or death!!
So, little by little, I calmed down. I leaned close to the campfire, feeling the gentle warmth of the flames and starting my journey into the magical arts, my mind a blank slate ready to be filled with the ancient knowledge of magic.
As in the writings of the Elder Scrolls universe, Magicka is the primary source of the world, flowing from Aetherius to Nirn through the star-shaped portals created by Magnus, the architect of the plane of existence. It was this raw energy that mages manipulated in their spells. But what I obtained in my attempts was a feeling of weakness. My mind was confused, and I felt that my initial attempt had been a failure.
In the games, everything seemed so easy; it was just a click, and voilà, I could cast the magic I wanted.
In some sources I recalled, it was said that it also depended on will and imagination, but I didn't remember any manual on how magic learning worked in detail.
I prepared for the magical act, knowing that it involved deep concentration and focus. As in the magic schools of Elder Scrolls, mages often seemed to resort to gestures, symbols, words, or rituals to aid in their concentration, each school of magic with its specific methods of preparation. My mind was focused, and my will was becoming a portal, a passage for Magicka to flow through.
Willpower was also known to play a crucial role in executing magic. I needed to direct my will to shape Magicka according to my desires. I knew that the stronger my will, the more powerful the spell I could cast, something essential in a world where magic was shaped by one's own intention. Not to mention my internal mana pool, which would determine how much magic I could cast.
"Calm," I whispered to myself. "Magic is a subtle art; it takes patience and self-knowledge."
I continued my magical self-improvement journey, thinking of some more intuitive schools for me, like Destruction, Illusion, Alteration. The schools had their own rules and principles, and I knew that to cast spells effectively, I needed to study and understand these specific principles, as each school represented a unique facet of magical power.
I took a deep breath once more and tried with greater fervor using other methods. I had to open the doors of my being to magic.
With my eyes closed, in total focus, a small spark of energy began to tingle in my arms. A tiny bluish light, the size of an ant, danced in the air over my hand, and I felt the presence of magic as never before.
"Progress!" I murmured with enthusiasm, but soon realized that excitement was hindering me. "Focus, focus!" I gritted my teeth, my eyes bulging with excessive concentration.
I continued to practice as the hours passed, exploring different methods and techniques, even as the two moons slowly moved across the sky. At one point, I tried to imagine a beam of energy flowing through me, as if I were an antenna for magical power. At another, I tried to shape mana with my hands, like a sculptor molding clay. Failures piled up, and sometimes magic seemed to slip through my fingers like smoke.
"Magic is like a river," I thought aloud, trying something to inspire me. "I am the channel that directs its flow. I need to learn to control it." I wouldn't succumb to frustration. Like a tireless musician, I refined my skills with each attempt.
Looking at the campfire's flames, I realized that perhaps the answer was right in front of my eyes. Magic was everywhere, manifesting itself in subtle ways, and I needed to learn to tune into it. My mind was blank, and I focused on the warmth of the fire, the dance of the flames, and their rhythm.
"This world was made of mana, right? If magic is in everything, then it's here too," I said, looking at the flames.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to connect with the fire element. To my surprise, I realized that the flames responded slightly to my will. They rose higher, dancing the way I wanted. A satisfied smile spread across my face.
"Incredible! The fire recognizes a great mage when it sees one!"
It seemed that I was on the right track, learning to feel and control magic intuitively.
That night, I continued to practice, experimenting and trying the school of Alteration. I practiced with water, trying to feel the fluidity and smoothness of this element. I spent hours trying to move objects with my mind, focusing on them and willing them to move. The objects wavered as if they were about to obey my command, but I still couldn't control them perfectly.
"Come on, mug, move! I believe in you!" Of course, the mug remained stubborn as always.
"I don't know, mug, I think we have a complicated relationship. You don't seem like a mug with attitude."
My excitement grew with each passing minute, trying to apply what I knew from the game and its magic schools. My mind was open to all possibilities, and I sought magic in every aspect of the world around me. I touched the stones on the ground and tried to understand the school of Alteration in nature.
"Come on, little stones, show me what you've got! Move, or I'll become a geologist!"
I imagined the trees as channels of natural energy. Sometimes, I felt like I was making progress, but magic continued to elude me, slipping through my fingers like a fish in the hands of an inexperienced fisherman.
"Magic is like a puzzle," I murmured to myself while trying to move a small stone with my mind. "Each element is a piece, and I'm learning to fit them together."
Tired of failing, I shifted my focus, ready to try to master the art of Illusion. My only weapon? A potato, which I believed was the key to unlocking my magical potential. I had no teacher, not even read a book on illusion, but I was willing to try.
With a keen eye and a potato firmly in hand, I took a deep breath, as if I were about to perform a legendary feat. "Here we go," I said, feeling the tension in the air.
"Okay, potato, get ready to transform! An apple, a red and juicy apple!"
The potato remained still, resisting my spell. I let out a tired sigh and shook my head.
"Alright, potato, it seems it's not as easy as it looks. But I won't give up!"
The potato remained inert, challenging my newly discovered magical prowess. I looked at it with suspicion.
"Playing hard to get, are you? Very well, if you don't want to be a fruit, be a happier and more cheerful potato! Yes, that's right, smiling and everything!"
I tried to convince myself that the potato was smiling, but in reality, it was just my imagination running wild, or perhaps the lack of sleep beginning to affect my judgment.
With few fruits in the area, I turned to the Destruction school.
And after hours of relentless attempts and overwhelming effort, a small flame appeared in my hand, inspired by the focus that the campfire had brought me. I felt the heat and the vibration of magical energy, and my heart swelled with triumph.
"I did it!" I exclaimed with ecstasy. "I mastered the magic!" I shouted when I realized my achievement. "Let Skyrim hold me back!!"
But in my excitement, I didn't notice that the fireball was growing, fueled by the fire of the campfire next to me, and quickly, it was out of control. In an instant, the magical fire exploded in a fiery eruption, consuming my hand. The pain was excruciating, and I let out a scream of agony. I fell to my knees, my hand burned, and I contemplated the disaster I had caused.
Za'ren-Dar stood up agitated and ready. "An attack! Where is it coming from?" The Khajiit exclaimed cautiously, looking in all directions, ready to fight for his life.
Then he noticed me, as I was clutching my hand, rolling on the ground in despair.
"Just a magical accident, you know how it is," I stopped my movement and smirked cynically at my companion.
He looked at me, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're more trouble than my cubs."
---
When morning broke over our eyes, I was still fixated on magic. Burning my hand wasn't enough to stop me. I had achieved my first step, even if I had burned myself in the process. Anxiety kept me from sleeping; I was determined to dissect this art.
Za'ren-Dar stretched, awakening and rubbing his eyes. The rogue got up and relieved himself on a tree a few meters away.
A mischievous smile spread across my face as I watched the Khajiit. "Is it as small as the cats in my old world?" I couldn't contain my laughter.
My partner returned, still somewhat sleepy. "You seem excited, but your eyes reveal you didn't sleep well last night."
"I couldn't sleep. I was contemplating the possibilities of magic."
"Sleep is crucial for our journey and for keeping the mind alert to Skyrim's dangers," scolded the Khajiit. "Well, it's clear you need some guidance on how to wield a weapon. The way you were holding that axe, you'd be a disaster in battle. I think we have time for some lessons."
"Dear Za'ren-Dar, you stand before a great mage. But,as i am so humble, I'll take your advice."
Za'ren-Dar observed that I was willing to learn. He nodded, signaling his willingness to help.
"Let's start with the basics, my friend," said the Khajiit, drawing a dagger from his waist. "First, posture is essential. Keep your feet apart, shoulders relaxed, and knees slightly bent. This will give you stability and agility."
I assumed the posture as he indicated, trying to imitate his position as best as I could.
"That's it," encouraged Za'ren-Dar. "Now, grip the axe firmly but without tensing your muscles too much. Keep a slight flexibility in your elbows so you can handle the weapon efficiently."
I adjusted my grip, feeling the difference in balance and control.
"Great. Now, the movement of the strike. It's not just about brute force; it's about direction and precision," he explained, demonstrating a controlled movement with the dagger.
I tried to replicate the movement, focusing on the technique Za'ren-Dar had shown. He gently corrected me, adjusting my posture and gestures.
"Excellent. You picked it up surprisingly fast; maybe being a mage isn't your calling. Dedicate time every day to practice these movements until they become second nature to you," advised Za'ren-Dar.
---
We were nearing the gates of the famous Riverwood. I could see the village in the distance, despite my legs incessantly complaining of our nearly endless journey.
"Finally, I need to sit for a bit," I said, releasing an relieved sigh with each step closer to the village.
"Another day and some more time to reach Whiterun. We're lucky we weren't attacked on the way," my companion exclaimed.
"Skyrim is indeed larger than I thought."
"And my friend Kvolt," said Za'ren-Dar. "When we reach the villages and especially the city, this Khajiit won't be able to accompany you."
"Is that so?" I said, somewhat surprised.
"The Nords," he said, closing his eyes. "They don't like my kind around much."
Za'ren-Dar's words reminded me of the game's lore. Khajiits weren't well-received in Skyrim, associated with drug abuse, especially Skooma, and also linked to theft, not to mention the prejudice from some Nords.
"Don't worry, Za'ren-Dar," I smiled confidently. "I'll convince anyone that you're a good man, or rather, a good Khajiit."
As we approached Riverwood, bustling with activity and marked by carriages and animals, we were stopped by two guards.
"And who are you two? These roads have been dangerous," the one on the right exclaimed, his voice muffled by his helmet.
"We're just travelers, heading to Whiterun," I said.
"Whiterun? And what's your business? And, furthermore, accompanied by a Khajiit," the guard reiterated, suspicion evident in his voice.
"Information about dragons."
"This rumor again? So, the rumors are true," the other guard lamented.
"We have information that could decide the fate of Skyrim. My journey companion and I are extremely necessary. We must report to Jarl Balgruuf."
"Let them pass. I fear these dragons in Skyrim are not a good sign," the guard said, clearing our path.
My gaze swept over the village. It was larger than I was accustomed to. "There must be around three hundred people here," I commented, quickly calculating in my mind.
Despite the resemblance to the game's layout, with the number of houses, it was possible to get lost. Perhaps I should pay a visit to Ralof or Hadvar, who knows which of them survived Alduin's attack in Helgen, or if both of them didn't die.
I turned to my companion with a big smile. "Well, my Khajiit friend, let's go to the inn. I want to try the local drink."
Za'ren-Dar hesitated. "This Khajiit doesn't think it's a good idea."
I patted the cat's back. "Don't worry. You'll be by my side, and in return, you can pay for our drinks."
And before Za'ren-Dar could say anything, I headed toward the smell of alcohol.
I didn't consider myself an alcoholic, but I had to try the local beer. It's not every day someone gets transported to Skyrim.
We walked into the inn. Nordic eyes fell upon us, two outsiders, and worse, a suspicious cat. Suspicion permeated the atmosphere. The glances felt like they were piercing our clothes as we walked through the tavern. It was a rustic and cozy place, full of loud voices and enthusiastic laughter, but now dominated by a tense and curious atmosphere.
I took a deep breath, controlling my anxiety due to the sharp looks on me. Commited to dispel the suspicion, I climbed onto an empty table and grabbed an empty mug.
"Good evening, noble residents of Riverwood! Don't worry, we come in peace," I shouted with apparent confidence, raising my mug as if it were a scepter. "I'm a fearless traveler, bringing news of dragons and stories to share. And this is my feline friend Za'ren-Dar, who, unlike the Nords, is a true lover of... warm milk."
Some suppressed laughter spread throughout the tavern, and Za'ren-Dar shot me a threatening look.
"Dragons? So, you've seen one too?" a man with blonde hair stood up, his eyes met mine. The similarity led me to deduce who he was, Ralof.
"Ha!" I said, creating a scene. "Of course, I've seen one, my friend. And not only that, I have crucial information about the cause of all this."
I continued, noting the change in the atmosphere and the curious glances. I couldn't blame people for being curious; after all, I was here. Ha! It was hard, once I started my show, my ego couldn't contain itself.
"We're here to help! And, of course, to enjoy the Nordic hospitality, said to be unmatched. What's the best drink around here? Tell me, and I swear I won't cause as much commotion as a dragon."
A sly smile played on my lips as Za'ren-Dar huffed beside me. The Nords seemed divided between suspicion and laughter, while Ralof, a robust man, approached with a curious look.
"You've got courage, outsiders. I want to hear what another survivor of the dragons has to say. I'll buy you a good beer for the occasion," he said with a friendly smile, seemingly appreciating my attitude. "A mug of the finest beer, my treat. Tell me your best story."
Za'ren-Dar sighed, giving in to the situation. "It seems we have no choice after all."
As I followed Ralof to a table, I noticed the attention of who I wanted, the waitress of this establishment.
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