Tolfdir's laughter was infectious, making one genuinely feel his happiness. His eyes weren't large, but they were bright, and crow's feet would wrinkle into deep lines when he smiled, giving him a down-to-earth appearance.
"Good day, Mr. Tolfdir," Jonas greeted hastily. Brelina covered her mouth, chuckling, "It's evening now."
The old man pointed at the Dark Elf lady. "Indeed, it's a beautiful evening, haha. Lad, what has addled your mind? Oh, you didn't sleep all day, did you? Hurry to the dining hall for a meal; there should still be some bread and tomato soup left."
Jonas slapped his forehead. He knew it was evening before he fell asleep, but it seemed he was still groggy from sleep, his thoughts not quite clear.
"Thank you for your concern, Master. I have a presumptuous request; I wonder if you could do me a small favor?"
"Of course, of course, anytime, my boy."
When Jonas pulled out that stinky, crumpled copy of elemental power, Brelina let out a shocked cry, and Tolfdir angrily tapped the boy's head. "Sleeping on a book and drooling? You're quite something! If Urag saw you like this, you'd be forbidden from borrowing any books!"
Urag was the librarian, short-tempered with people but unusually gentle with books, making him quite unpopular with students.
"I'm sorry! Please, don't tell on me, I beg you!" Jonas shouted, clutching his head, drawing stares from those around him.
Tolfdir sighed. "Ah, just keep this book then. It's not anything precious anyway."
Brelina: "Huh? Is it really not important? Because I have a copy too..."
Jonas looked shocked. "Is the college that rich? To give such a precious tome to students just like that."
Tolfdir laughed heartily. "They're just mass-produced replicas. Each faction has its ultimate secrets, and these books are bestowed upon excellent students to help them take that final step successfully. Look, that person," the two looked in the direction the old man was pointing, and the onlookers also followed their gaze. There was a male Khajiit looking around with his head down.
"That fellow is from the Illusion school. He's looking for the Master's tome, a total of four books. Once he finds them all, he'll be good. It's even more troublesome than your Destruction school."
Jonas posed a soul-searching question, "Then who put these four tomes there?" The onlookers craned their necks, like a flock of geese waiting to be fed, with great confusion in their small eyes.
"Haha, I'll tell you two secretly, come here," the mischievous Tolfdir deliberately didn't avoid the surrounding students, only whispering into Jonas's and Brelina's ears, "Their masters will secretly place them after the students apply, and then give them a spell to find them."
Jonas's face fell. "That's too much fun!"
Those around them felt their hearts itch, gnashing their teeth in frustration. "How do you play?"
Brelina covered her mouth. "We're not telling you!"
"Ohh—" Everyone sighed, giving them disdainful looks, and in the end, they could only let it go.
Tolfdir raised an eyebrow. "Jonas, my boy, do you want to go to Saarthal with us? There are still many spots available."
"Thank you for your kind offer, but my current condition..."
"If you don't go, a certain Orc old man might hear about the Breton Boy soaking a book with his drool."
"...My condition is excellent! There's no way I'm not going, I must go! Nobody stop me, I am dear Master Tolfdir's capable little assistant! That's it, it's decided, I'll listen to you, to Saarthal!"
The old man displayed a benevolent smile, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deeply etched. To Jonas, they were the abyss of a demon...
Tolfdir ambled away with his hands behind his back. Brelina awkwardly invited Jonas to her dorm room for a short visit.
The forty-something Dark Elf woman had the demeanor of a maiden. The room's decor was simple and elegant, clean and tidy. Blue-patterned lace white cloths covered the tables and tea tables. There was a silver teapot, porcelain plates and cups. On the bedside table was a glass vase with a large bouquet of lavender. The walls were spotless, every corner neat and dry, free of dust and water stains. On the ceiling hung an antler chandelier, already lit, a faint scent of oil lingering. The bookshelf against the wall was packed with large tomes. On the desk was a magic lamp, like a thin bamboo pole with a ball of cotton candy on top. Several books were scattered on the desktop, along with manuscript paper, a quill pen, and ink, with elemental power placed in the very center.
Jonas casually tucked his copy of elemental power into his inner pocket, showing no intention of cherishing it. This crude gesture made Brelina frown slightly.
The Dark Elf invited the boy to sit by the tea table. She brought a pot of hot tea. Jonas asked her if she had any alcohol. Brelina paused for a moment, looking at the boy with a serious and reproachful gaze. Jonas responded with a rude and impolite demeanor.
Finally, a bottle of mead from Whiterun appeared in Jonas's hand. "Good stuff, it's not watered down, delicious!"
The boy's behavior was very abnormal, and he indeed felt somewhat off. Some strange illusions seemed to awaken from a long slumber, like ice melting and water flowing in spring, gushing from a hole somewhere in his mind. He saw the old mage Gauldur wandering in the corner of the room, extending his withered, dirty fingers, like chicken feet, to trace over the tightly packed volumes on the bookshelf, his fingers gliding, tapping the spines, making a Dadadada…
"Hey! Are you listening?"
Jonas slightly pulled his head back. "Oh, please continue."
Brelina pursed her lips, a little annoyed, her bright black eyes fixed on the boy's kaleidoscopic irises. These wondrous eyes, like a god's treasure, were so beautiful they could make one intoxicated. Brelina still remembered the light projected from his eyes when she saw him hanging upside down; it was just as beautiful.
Sighing, she repeated herself, "I'm truly sorry, I'm just too curious. I saw your phantom just now, which must mean your studies have advanced greatly. But may I ask you, what exactly did you see while you were asleep?"
Jonas yawned. "I saw a piece of history."
"History?"
"Have you heard of Gauldur?"
...
Shady Basin.
The enormous bonfire had died out. The burnt pine charcoal, after a brief spring rain, was soaked with moisture, glowing with an oily sheen. Its simple form resembled a primitive totem, covered in natural Texture.
Two giant heads lay scattered beside the fire, their weathered, gaunt faces bearing a dull anger. Blood soaked the earth.
The Ebony Warrior stood on a rock, gazing southeast towards the towering Throat of the World, the magnificent Mount Hrothgar, as a brilliant light slowly rose.
It was dawn.
Ding-a-ling—Ding-a-ling!
The crisp sound of bells drifted from afar.
A white-robed figure with an umbrella on his back appeared from behind the gentle slope, accompanied by a red-clad woman wearing a beautiful mask.
"You've come."
"I've come."
"You're very punctual."
"You are too."
"Shall we begin then?" The warrior drew the Ebony Blade from his waist, its blade curved like a willow branch in the wind.
"Anytime." The white-robed figure unfastened his shoulder strap, and the enormous bronze umbrella fell to the ground, standing upright like an unconquered banner. The woman beside him handed him a massive steel greatsword. He gripped it tightly and lightly swung it in a circle, the morning light murmuring on the flowing, pale metal.
A long wind blew, and the sound of the bells grew more urgent.
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