Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Aimlessly in Wonder [Closed]

It was midday in the Imperial City, nearly cloudless, mild with a soft breeze in the air, and with the sunlight shining off of the large obelisks and marble towers, it was as breathtaking as ever. The soft sound of small waves licking the shores on the outside of the Imperial walls could be heard if you really listened, and as banners ruffled in the breeze it was a very calming scene to all of the senses. You may very well forget all of the troubles of the empire if you let your mind wander for too long.

Cassius often found himself lost in thought on days like these when he patrolled the University grounds, and it was also days like these that he wished to be nowhere else in all of Tamriel. "By the Divines," He thought to himself wistfully, "Is there a more beautiful place than this?"

He had been wandering the grounds of the Arcane University since early morning, and his relief would be coming soon to let him take a well-earned rest in the barracks. Circling about the outer walkway of the University he nodded to his fellow soldiers, University Mages, and civilians alike, a soft smile parting his lips every now and again, and his piercingly blue eyes always going out of their way to make contact with another's. Through the rabble and comers and goers of the University, he made-out a familiar face; his commanding officer, Commander Avitus Caelum of the University District. He could see that his stone-faced commander was headed toward him with some earnest, and he straightened to attention hurriedly--if not a little nervously--and announced as Caelum approached: "Sir!" in a respectful yet bold manner.

Caelum eyed Cassius expectantly and with some scrutiny, for as good of a soldier as he was, he lacked a certain.. sense of vigorous elitism that the Commander believed all members of the Legion were entitled to. He could also stand to be a little more rough and a lot less sympathetic, he thought; traits in which to Caelum were the signs of a lesser man, and not something he admired in a fellow Imperial.

"Lieutenant." He nodded in response rather dryly. He didn't need to be loud, he commanded respect with even a whisper. "You are to report to the Arch-Mage's Lobby as soon as your relief arrives."

Cassius was a little taken-aback by the statement, and he furrowed his brow in thought. "Sir?" He inquired to hear more.

"There is a certain necromancer-hunter who needs accompanying, and it is the job of the Legion to oversee all such--characters." He could see that the Lieutenant was still a bit confused, so he continued, "I recommended you as escort for an assignment he has been put on. You are one of the more mild-mannered officers under my charge, and I believe you may get something out of the experience--toughen you up a bit." He spoke the words in a tone that was all together insulting and backhanded, and they did not slip passed Cassius unnoticed.

Deciding it the best course of action, he ignored the obvious jab at his Imperial 'toughness' and responded evenly, "Yes, Commander."

"You will be debriefed once in the Arch-Mage's Lobby." The Commander nodded in response to Cassius. "Ah, here comes your relief now." He nodded behind Cassius, pointing to the Imperial Battlemage that was rounding the corner of the courtyard.

Cassius nodded again, clicked his heels to attention, then responded with the usual, "Sir!"

As soon as Commander Caelum had turned back towards the Imperial Watchtower, Cassius couldn't help letting a small grin make its way across his features. He was never put on assignment, and even if his commander was only doing this out of some sort of misplaced pity, he didn't seem bothered. As his relief arrived, he grabbed the other man's forearm, which was customary, shook it, stood at attention, then made his way towards the doors of the University interior.

The light of Magnus occupied its highest point in the sky, and reflected off the calm waters of Lake Rumare below in a display of scattering sparks. Astarill tilted his head up at the sun and saw that it was time to go. He directed his gaze back to the water to gaze at it a moment longer, and then took a deep breath. He pushed himself away from the edge of the bridge that connected the Arboretum with the Arcane University. He stretched his arms back and spread his fingers, simultaneously rolling his head to stretch his neck. With the annoyed grunt that escaped from between his teeth, he relaxed back into a normal posture. This kind of warm, pleasant weather always made him feel dreadfully sluggish. He rested his hands on the cool surface of the bridge’s parapet again and gazed straight ahead at the horizon, where rolling, forested hills dotted the landscape behind Rumare’s shoreline.

When a soft breeze chilled the skin of his forearms and carried the loose strands of his hair in front of his face, he tucked his hair back behind his ears and bend down to pick up his backpack. With another annoyed grunt, he straightened himself and walked on towards the gates of the Arcane University. He nodded stiffly at the legionnaire, who stood guard at the gate, and proceeded towards the Arch-Mage’s lobby.

A rush of cool air and the soft humming of magical portals greeted him when he entered. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger, then looked up and blinked against the sudden dark. His eyes needed time to adjust to the candle light after having gazed at the bright, sunlit waters for so long.

Master-Wizard Polus looked up from a book when the Altmer entered. “Ah. Good afternoon, Journeyman,” he said, and put his reading aside. “Right on time, it appears.” He rummaged through some papers until he found a sealed bundle of letters. He handed it over when Astarill approached his table. “Your assignment.”

Astarill inclined his head. “Master-Wizard,” he grumbled in acknowledgement, and took the bundle. He broke the seal, the wax still lukewarm to the touch, and unfolded the papers.

“You’ll not be going alone,” Raminus Polus said, “A legionnaire will join you.”

Before having had the chance to finish reading the first paragraph, Astarill looked up at the Master-Wizard. “Is that so?” he asked, a reserved tone of dismay as well as wonder in his voice. “May I ask why?”

The Master-Wizard spread his hands in a gesture as if to communicate candidness. “To assist and to observe,” he said, “He will be here shortly.”

Irritation welled up inside and Astarill narrowed his eyes, but he kept his comments to himself. He clenched his jaw and turned his gaze back on the letter with his assignment.

It was so... excessive, he always thought. The mages of the University did so love their theatrics. The arched cathedral ceilings made him feel very small, and the vastness made him feel very exposed as he looked around the place that had been his station of duty for years. He smiled to himself, however, for even though he had been here long enough to count the fascinating among the mundane, he did so love the University and all of its many strange comings and goings.

He walked by many mages and alchemists on his way towards the Arch-Mages lobby; young and old, Apprentices and Masters. He had been trained in the arcane arts himself, being a Legion Battlemage, but he doubted very much that he could compete with even the youngest Apprentice here.

He found the crowds were thinning and the noises seemed to die down as he approached the lobby of the Arch-Mage, and soon all that he was left with was the clinking and clanking of his heavy steel armor. He had seen the Master-Wizard a few times before, Polus had even assigned him duties and posts around the University from time to time, and he seemed a well enough man. Though, it didn't take much to impress Cassius, and he wasn't one to nitpick at another man's character too terribly. He did find it fascinating that an Imperial was the Master-Wizard here, since even the majority of the Legion Battlemages that he served with were Breton. But, then again, this was the Imperial Capitol of the Empire, and he wasn't so sure that there wasn't some sort of political gain behind his office; so was the nature of the beast, he supposed.

He realized that as he had lost himself in thought he had also lost track of time, and he was running just a tad bit behind now. Cursing himself for drifting off he began to walk at a quickened pace, the urgency apparent in every step. His first assignment outside of Imperial walls and he was going to be late to the debriefing. Oh yes, He thought, This will go over nicely with the Commander...

Upon entering the lobby he stumbled slightly as the toe of his steel boot caught on a large rug in his rushed state. Not really noticing, as tripping and fumbling were normal occurrences for him, he made his way toward Master-Wizard Polus. Clicking his heels to attention he bowed his head to one side politely, a little embarrassed. "Master-Wizard." He addressed the man formally. "I apologize for my tardiness, sir, it won't happen again." He nodded very apologetically and the shame was all over his face--actually, he must have looked rather like a kicked puppy in that moment.

"Commander Caelum has informed me of the nature of the assignment." He stated, shifting a little nervously to one side, not entirely sure of what to say. "I was happy to accept." He finished suddenly, but his statement seemed to form into a question as he spoke the last word.

It was then that he noticed the towering figure that he had neglected since his less-than-grand entrance. The Altmer was tall and rather lanky, with a very intense face--that seemed rather normal for a High Elf, however. This had to be the necromancer-hunter, he certainly looked like he could fit the part, and Cassius wasn't so sure that he hadn't seen him before in these great halls. Not wanting to appear rude, even though he was certain that the Altmer's impression of him was already less than satisfactory, he turned and nodded, smiling softly, "Cassius Deridius, Legion Battlemage, at your service, sir."

He always tried to be exceedingly polite, especially in touchy situations like these, since he wasn't really certain as to why this Altmer needed an escort at all--didn't the University send their members on assignment alone all the time? Though, Commander Caelum did mention something about 'duty' and 'characters' earlier, but Cassius doubted that this Altmer could be a threat to the Empire and a concern of the Legion, he just looked so... well, he hated to even think it, but--a little boring, perhaps dry even. He immediately erased any less than savory thoughts from his mind as a slight wrinkle creased his brow, hoping that the Altmer couldn't tell what he had been thinking.

It was then that he noticed the piece of parchment that the other man was holding. Looking down at it, he wasn't sure if it was the assignment itself or something private. So, at the risk of being deemed rude again--mostly by himself--he looked away, facing the Arch-Mage once more. His eager expression couldn't conceal the anxiety he felt as he waited intently for further instruction.

Astarill’s expression turned more and more dismayed as he read through his orders.

The assignment itself seemed fairly standard. It appeared he was to travel east and south, where farmers had reported a number of occurrences that seemed to indicate activity of those who would occupy themselves with banned magical practices. Included within the bundle of papers was a map of the area, showing a part of the Nibenay Basin. The land was rich and fertile there, obvious by the numerous farms that were indicated on the map. An ancient Ayleid ruin was marked as a possible base of operations of the suspected necromancer. Nowhere did the letter explicitly state why the Council of Mages deemed it necessary to send a legionnaire along on this particular assignment. It was there all the same, though, between the lines. Hidden within the immaculately formal tone. To assist, and to observe.

To observe, he thought grimly, and pressed his mouth into a thin, sour line.

So they didn’t trust him to do things by the book, and sent someone along to make sure he would. They couldn’t be more right, of course. He didn’t do things by the book. That was because the book was inefficient. That was because the book was written by self-proclaimed experts with no practical experience in the field, as proven by the fact that it was riddled with needless formalities and pointless traditions, all based upon nothing but irrational arguments that bordered on supersti-...

Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, Astarill’s head shot up when, after the door had opened, a legionnaire literally stumbled inside, causing quite a racket with his heavy, plated armor. He raised a single brow and watched the man stand to attention. Astarill couldn’t help but think the legionnaire seemed a bit childish, with his overly self-conscious apology and his apparent eagerness to please. It stood in stark contrast to his hulking, fully-armored appearance.

Oh, gods, he thought, An enthusiast…

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to prevent himself from rolling them. He had nothing against those who strove to follow their orders to the letter with idealistic enthusiasm - in fact, he applauded such behaviour - but the sad reality was that those individuals often displayed a magnificent lack of common sense, and that was something he could not applaud. Nevertheless, he told himself, there was no reason to make any assumptions. Maybe this man was an exception. He almost snickered at the thought.

Astarill tore himself out of his thoughts once more and looked at the legionnaire when he introduced himself. He twitched one mouth corner into a fleeting sneer when he was addressed as ‘sir’, but quickly reverted back to a demure, decorous expression whilst he inclined his head.

“Yes,” he replied, as if it was something to be regretted. “Astarill,” he simply added, feeling no need to elaborate any further.

He folded the bundle of papers and shot a glance at the Master-Wizard, who nodded encouragingly at him with a vague, self-satisfied smile.

“Well, then. I will need to stop by the Market District for some supplies,” Astarill spoke matter-of-factly to the man who had introduced himself as Cassius, “And I’d like to have a meal before we leave. You can read through the assignment meanwhile. Does that meet with your approval?”

Cassius noted the flat tone as the Altmer introduced himself, very simply, as Astarill.

He nodded, a polite smile never left his features, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, not this time. He sighed inwardly, a little disheartened by the apparently rigid and impatient nature of his temporary companion. However, he was determined to not let it ruin this for him, and anyway, he was pretty sure that this pairing of himself with a less-than affable, elitist, dissmisive, and all-around seemingly typical Altmer was some kind of play on his Commander’s part.

It was then that he realized that he was making quite a few racial assumptions about the Alt--Astarill, and he felt a bit embarrassed; maybe all of these years of Caelum’s attempts at ‘Imperial-superiority’ brainwashing were finally snaking it’s way into his subconscious. No, that--

By the Nine!--He was letting his mind wander again.

By the time he had snapped out of his internal dialogue, Astarill had just finished mentioning supplies and a hot meal.

‘Gods, I really need to spend less time in the reality in my mind and more time in Mundus.’ He thought to himself, disappointed that he had apparently missed the entirety of what Astarill had said, but nodded in response anyway, because he could always go for a hot meal, and supplying for this assignment was obvious. After all, Cas had been, only moments ago, informed of this at all.

“Yes.” He nodded in response, “I shall be needing supplies myself, and getting more information on the assignment would certainly solidify all of this for me.”

Turning to the Arch-Mage he saluted calmly, “Thank you for your time, Master-Wizard.”

Cassius turned away then and began to make his way to the arched doorway from which he had stumbled through earlier, and stopped, waiting for his new companion.

“To the Market District, then?” He inquired, looking to Astarill, his expression still friendly, but his tone a good deal less enthusiastic than before.

“It is a beautiful day for walking.” He smiled then, his deep blue eyes becoming half-moons, as this time, the smile did indeed reach his eyes.

“Have you a mount, Astarill?” He questioned, a little randomly and hurriedly, but the prospect of walking the entire assignment seemed, however refreshing, rather tedious. Maybe he was just letting his long post get to him, he had just gotten off, after all. He liked the idea of letting his horse, Kessander, roam more than just the occasional loop around the city walls during a night-watch, however, he wasn't completely against walking. All of the best adventures seemed to happen on foot, anyway.

He realized that he had turned toward the door again as he asked, and he must have looked as anxious and excited as he felt to get underway.

Yes, he still had no idea where they were headed, or what could possibly be ahead of them, but the mundane, day-after-day rhythm of the city had been wearing on him even more than usual lately, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dying for an opportunity such as this.

Astarill inclined his head in response to the legionnaire’s affirmation regarding his proposal to get a meal and supplies. He moved his gaze briefly to Raminus Polus, but he felt no need to say anything more in addition to what Cassius had already told the man, and he turned away without as much as a nod, to follow the legionnaire to the door. He stopped, though, when Cassius did too and inquired about their next destination.

He raised a single eyebrow, and wondered why the question needed to be asked. “Yes,” he began in a tone that would not have been misplaced on a teacher who was growing impatient with a slow student, “To the Market District.”

He regretted his tone the moment his words had left his mouth, though. They had a long way to go in each other’s company, and it wouldn’t do to get off on the wrong foot so early. Perhaps the man’s inquiry had merely been some form of common courtesy that happened to completely escape him. It wouldn’t be the first time that his Vvardenfell-coloured worldview and Dunmerish cynicism got in the way of polite conversation. And gods forbid, they might have to able to trust each other if they wanted to work together efficiently.

He released a weary sigh. He already despised it thoroughly, this assignment. Here he was, engaging in something as pointless as trying to understand what went on inside his companion’s head, while he could be thinking of more important things.

“Yes,” he grumbled, “It’s a fine day.”

He didn’t sound like it, but he did believe it was. At least, until he became aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be working alone on the assignment ahead of him.

He proceeded, speaking hurriedly without trying to hide the fact that he would prefer to get this all over with as quickly as possible. “And no, I do not have a mount. I will be walking. But if you do have one, it might be useful to take it along.”

After all, he thought grimly while he opened the door, You might need to confiscate and haul back evidence for review.

Astarill was accustomed to destroy whatever research or projects he felt the guild did not need to know about, after having extensively studied everything himself. That way, he solidified his position, making himself indispensable for his knowledge, while he fed the guild neatly measured doses of what they expected to see. Precise and exact, always enough to make them believe they hadn’t missed anything. Or so he thought. There wasn’t going to be any of that with a legionnaire watching over his shoulder. The fact that he was now under surveillance either meant that they had started to suspect him, or that the Arch-Mage had gotten more paranoid than usual.

As he made his way towards the gates of the Arboretum, he hoped it was only the latter.

Cassius allowed Astarill to lead the duo, not out of a desire to follow, necessarily, but because he was sure that the Altmer was already a bit flustered at the prospect of having an “escort”, and Cas really just wanted to show that he meant no harm to anyone’s pride by going along, but really just wanted to be helpful, and follow orders, of course.

He realized that by following behind Astarill that he probably looked like a criminal escort, so he trotted up beside the Altmer instead. Well--that was better, right? He felt like now he was maybe encroaching on personal space, so he fell back again, but only slightly, so now he would be visible in the corner of the Altmer’s sight.

People usually didn’t care even half as much as Cassius did, and while he was a bit deterred by the all around demeanor of his companion, he was surprisingly understanding, which was another rare character quality that he possessed; the ability to understand. He rarely took things personally because of it, and decided that even Astarill is preferable company to a lone journey. He realized that the Altmer, obviously, didn’t share the same sentiment, but this was a job, their job, and he’d try his best to make it go as smoothly as possible. Realistically, he knew that “smooth” was probably unlikely.

As they made their way through the Arboretum gates, the long pathway that lead to the greater Imperial City greeted them warmly. The shimmer of Lake Rumare reflected off of the white cobblestone sidings of the Arboretum, bouncing and shifting with the rhythm of the water. The sun had risen high in the late afternoon sky, and Cassius was reminded once again just how long his post had been, and he felt a twinge of hunger that caused his stomach to turn. Running an armored hand through his thick, brown hair he decided to distract himself.

“What supplies will you be needing?” He inquired, looking to the Altmer as the towering city gates before them began to open. Cassius had grown so used to the flow of the city that he didn’t even hesitate as the doors began to pull forward, he just continued on his way before the monstrous gates had even opened completely.

He suspected that they would be needing provisions such as rations, kindling and medical supplies, but whatever else the necromancer-hunter usually brought with him was a mystery to the Legion Battlemage. He was uncertain if the University was funding this assignment, but he didn’t see why they wouldn’t be. He really didn’t like not knowing all of the details, but that would come later, with a good meal. As for his horse, he wasn’t too worried, as he was quite the experienced horseman, and readying his steed for the journey wouldn’t take long at all.

As they took a sharp turn to the right, Cassius nodded to a fellow officer of the Legion as they passed, and he began to look around the inner city again. His eyes drifted almost naturally to the White-Gold Tower to his left, and a small, wistful smile made its way across his features.

This was going to be good, he didn't know how he knew, but he did. He was suddenly very anxious and found that his feet had begun to move at a more rapid pace as they made their way around the circular pathway that would eventually lead to the gates of the Market District, and eventually, into the wilds of Cyrodiil.

Astarill became vaguely aware that there was something bothering his companion. He couldn’t quite place what it was, but it seemed somehow conspicuous, the way the man hovered about him, back then forth and back again. He didn’t bother to contemplate it much, however. He had reluctantly resigned himself to the fact that he would have to put up with the Imperial, and he was not about to waste energy getting worked up about inconsequential things. There were more important things to focus on. There always were. If he thought the man’s behavior was odd or irritating, his face did not betray it.

Before long, Cassius seemed to have made up his mind about… whatever it was that had bothered him, and the thought slipped from Astarill’s mind. He looked to the gates ahead, and then to Cassius when the man inquired about the supplies he planned to purchase.

“I will need to see an alchemist,” he replied curtly. His attention drifted inward and settled on his thoughts, going over a mental list of things he suspected he would require. And thus he failed to provide Cassius with a more elaborate answer, distracted by what he remembered he would need to stock up on.

The legionnaire marched on without pause before the weary creaking of the tall, heavy gates to the Arboretum had allowed an opening wide enough for both of them to pass comfortably, and Astarill slowed his pace momentarily as not to be forced to have to squeeze himself past several inches of fortified wood on the one side and Cassius’s ironclad bulk on the other. Taking a few longer strides, he caught up and settled back into his previous walking pace. He held out the bundle of papers with the details of their assignment for Cassius to take, in no small part because he couldn’t be bothered to carry it around in his hands any longer and there seemed to be no point in putting the bundle away in his backpack when the legionnaire still needed to have a look at it.

“But a meal first,” he stated. After all, some manner of planning would have to precede the formation of a decent idea about the supplies they felt they needed to take along. That, and he could kill for a tankard of good, dark ale. Although he hardly needed an incentive to consume alcohol in general, dealing with the guild often stoked the urge to drown himself in it.

Since they left the exotic collection of the Tamriel’s diverse flora behind them, and with it also the relative peace and quiet of the Arboretum, they had exchanged it for a more crowded part of the city. It was all too big and too noisy to Astarill’s taste, and he failed to appreciate the splendor of it all. Too many people packed together upon too little surface, was what he saw. He was never much of an appreciator of architecture either, but even if he was, he would likely feel that for all Cyrod’s stateliness, it lacked the elegance of Alinor. Still, the ale was never in short supply, and that seemed a magnificent redeeming factor.

With that comforting thought in mind, Astarill headed toward what seemed the very epicenter of all the city’s hustle and bustle - the Market District.

“Of course.” Cassius nodded respectfully to Astarill’s, once again, less-than-detailed response to his inquiry on supplies.

He knew that Astarill would need to see an alchemist, obviously; was the Altmer having a go at him? He found that highly unlikely, but he eyed his companion curiously anyway, suppressing a chuckle. He knew the Altmer was completely serious, and perhaps there was some back-handed sarcasm really, really deep down in that simple comment, but the idea, now, of Astarill having a legitimate laugh at him was kind of comical in itself.

The young Imperial was just a bit too excited for his own good, he concluded, and suppressed any other thoughts of the Altmer that were anything less than completely serious and completely professional.

Cassius looked to the Altmer expectantly when he found that he was being handed the roll of paper that he had been eyeing anxiously since this little adventure had gotten underway.

“Ahh, thank you!” A relieved smile washed over his features and he was about to begin reading when Astarill spoke again.

Cas looked at him then and nodded, rolling the top of the paper back into a uniform cylinder almost instantaneously. Not that he always responded to orders in that matter--well, usually--it was just that he was rather eager to get on to the “meal” part of this ordeal, and the mention of it had sparked a rather immediate response from the man.

As they made their way further into the busy confines of the inner city, he hardly noticed the change of pace. People rushing about, the usual scramble and elevated noise level, it was just another day in paradise for the Cyrodiilic native. He never really had an issue with crowds, not while in uniform anyway. While most people were content to hurriedly shove passed one another without so much as a pause or a “Pardon me”, he was always given a wider berth, people were usually more prone to smiling at him, and being generally more pleasant overall. Today was no exception to that particular societal rule.

He nodded back to every shop owner, smiled at every passerby and responded to every “Good afternoon!”, and while he knew that none of it was genuine kindness, and all very misplaced, he did appreciate politeness and didn’t see any reason to ignore it. Besides just being an officer of the legion, he had built quite a reputation for himself as one of the more understanding, goodnatured legionnaires that patrolled the city.

“Ahh! Lieutenant Deridius!” shouted a familiar voice rather suddenly, from across the cobblestone pathway.

“Phintias, my friend!” Cassius responded as he wheeled to his right, facing the man who always seemed to end up with half of his pension at the end of every month.

The Redguard owner of the First Edition bookstore clasped forearms with the legionnaire in a professional, yet obviously friendly, manner.

“Odd to see you in the Market District in uniform, Deridius!” Phintias chuckled in an amused tone, eyeing his friend with mild suspicion.

Cassius’s eyes widened and he turned around, searching the crowd for his Altmer companion, realizing what he had just done. He spotted Astarill rather quickly and smiled to Phintias as some relief washed over his face.

“Yes, I’m on assignment with one of the University’s Mages, Astarill,” He motioned towards his companion, “we’re just off for supplies.”

“I see!” Phintias grinned, “He’s a good one, Astarill, this Imperial,” Phintias winked with a laugh, slapping Cassius’s upper arm playfully, “and I ain’t just sayin’ that because he buys me out of any piece of parchment with even a scribble of Dwemer history every few weeks!”

That was true, Cassius was a sucker for books, as well as any form of history, and he especially enjoyed books, essays and theories on the lost race of Mer.

He laughed and smiled to his friend, nodding a dismissal as he said, “Well, I would hate to delay us any longer, and if I don’t stop you now I’m sure you’ll be trying to convince us that there’s some book or tome that we can’t possibly live without.”

Phintias laughed heartily at that remark, mainly because it was true, and he shook hands with the officer and nodded to the Altmer as he headed back towards his shop.

“I apologize, Astarill” Cassius seemed to almost fumble his words and did look genuinely embarrassed, “Hard to deny someone when you’re in uniform.” Well that was an awfully cheap excuse, he thought, his superiors and even some of his fellow officers would very often ignore civilians, even if approached directly.

Running an ironclad hand through his thick, brown locks in a nervous and uncomfortable fashion, he began to look around the district, anxious to move on from that little scene, as he was sure that Astarill was just as anxious to get underway as he was.

“Personally, I know of only two alchemists in the Market District, so I’ll defer to your expertise in this matter.” He smiled, cerulean blue eyes full of genuine intrigue as he looked around the familiar district, in the family city that he had called home for so many years now.

It made him realize how much more he missed Leyawiin with every passing day.

Astarill had to admit, it didn’t seem as crowded as usual in the Market District. It took a while before it occurred to him that was because he walked in the company of a legionnaire. People noticed the armor and made way for it. Or perhaps they recognized Cassius himself, and not just his uniform, judging from the greetings the Imperial received from passers-by. It was an odd experience, in any case. He tried to walk a few paces ahead and out of the way of Cassius, so that he would not accidentally feel targeted every time someone suddenly sent a smile in the legionnaire’s direction. As such, he didn’t immediately notice when Phintias of the local book shop stopped Cassius. The sudden lack of ironclad footsteps and the accompanying clanking of metal plates moving was noticeable, though. He stopped and turned to see what the holdup was.

He looked on neutrally, from the Redguard proprietor of the First Edition to Cassius, and back again. He wasn’t particularly amused by the delay, but he nevertheless only raised a calm eyebrow in response to Cassius’s wide-eyed gaze of realization. He narrowed his eyes, though, when the legionnaire mentioned his name to the Redguard. His facial features turned rigid when the bookseller acknowledged his name by repeating it. He managed to free a mouth corner to pull it into a forced, lopsided smile, although ‘smile’ was a bit too much honour to describe a reveal of teeth.

“Well, that is reassuring,” he replied wryly, after which the smile immediately dissolved again. In his experience, life was easiest when you didn’t get noticed, and so he strove to be noticed by as few people as possible. He didn’t freely introduce himself or share his name, yet his companion clearly had different ideas about the amount of information one should share during the exchange of pointless pleasantries. During the remainder of the friendly banter between Cassius and the bookseller, Astarill made a conscious effort to relax his facial features back into a neutral expression, reminding himself that this was Cyrodiil, and not Vvardenfell. This sort of thing was only normal, and he had better learn to put up with it, at least for the duration of their joined assignment.

When Cassius joined him again and apologized, he nodded curtly. “It’s fine,” he grumbled dismissively. He proceeded to address more important issues at hand when Cassius mentioned alchemists. “Only what’s-her-name of the Carafe has what I need,” he said, and continued to walk to where the two main streets of the district met, “But I’m afraid I can’t stomach her without a measure of alcohol in my system.”

He crossed the street, walking by the Merchant’s Inn and heading for the Feed Bag instead. For all his dislike of crowds, the Altmer had the odd tendency to prefer cheaper - and often busier - taverns over more exclusive ones. He couldn’t really rationalize it himself, either, but he knew he preferred the down-to-earth common sense of a laborer or mercenary over the fake airs of refined courtiers and merchants. Furthermore, boisterous crowds were good for one thing, and that was making it more difficult to notice individual people. That particular characteristic suited him just fine.

When he entered the tavern, he had to move out of the way of two patrons who were just leaving. They chatted about some upcoming Arena match, and one of them gave a polite nod in Cassius’s direction. Inside, the air was cool, shielded from the pleasant weather outside by thick and cold stone walls. It was moderately crowded. The midday rush had passed, and it was too early for dinner. Another advantage of the Feed Bag as compared to the Merchant’s Inn, Astarill found, was the Dunmer publican. The place reminded him of an inn he used to frequent during his time in Vvardenfell. In addition, every now and then, the publican managed to get a bottle or crate of one of Morrowind’s common beverages that were hard to come by in the heart of Cyrodiil.

“Ah. Good day, sera,” the publican said, when he noticed Astarill. By now, the Dunmer recognized him and he had taken to refer to him with the Dunmeris term of respect when he had learned that the Altmer knew more about Morrowind than the average visitor of the Feed Bag did.

Astarill nodded briefly at the publican in greeting. “Is it?”

“Oh, I see. The usual, then?”

The Altmer nodded again. “And something to eat.”

“We’ve got beef stew today, or a clam chowder. If you don’t mind waiting, that is. It’s still simmering. There’s bread, course. Freshly baked this morning.”

“I’ll take the stew,” Astarill replied and shot a glance in Cassius’s direction before he made himself a way to an empty table to wait for his drink and meal to be served.