21 - Victoria - The Road to Frostcrag Spire:

The deed paper held my attention, claiming I had 'inherited' Frostcrag Spire, an isolated wizards tower located to the far north of Cyrodiil. I had mixed thoughts regarding such distance – while I value solitude and security, it would surely be inconvenient to travel back and forth. Further, having explored northerly regions in the past, I am well aware of the inhospitable weather – and as the tower was unlikely to come with en suite stables it was likely that Shadow could not stay there, doubling the travel inconveniences. The closest town is Bruma, whose stables could be used, but it would be a compromising solution. Nevertheless, this tower was certainly worth investigating – I did, apparently, now own it – and it was always possible that I might find solutions to the difficulties I anticipated.

I had rested in the Arena Bloodworks for a time – it was a familiar place, and I was more confident of my safety there than I was sleeping at the Arcane University. Hopefully I will soon have the peace and security of a permanent residence however, and it was with this in mind that I left the Arena in mid afternoon, walking through the Palace gardens – which lay between the Arena and Talos Plaza, where the main gate could be found. It was the first time I had entered the 'Green Emperor Way', as it was named – and it was a refreshing change from the bustle of the market districts, with not a beggar in sight. Instead I was treated to the elegant but massive presence of the Imperial Tower, surrounded by green gardens, with gravestones dotting the lawns like teeth. Palace guards garbed in silver plate mail adorned with gold etchings stalked the pathways reverently, keen to maintain aesthetics as much as order, for few citizens were present. It was likely that following the assassination of the Emperor the level of protection had been stepped up, while idle visits were simultaneously discouraged.

As I exited into Telos Plaze rain began to fall, impelling those whose presence was not a duty into shelter, while the guards grumbled and muttered amongst themselves. Scattered words such as “rust” and “join the army they said, it's a man's life they said” were all that could be heard above the deluge – following the death of the emperor and his known heirs, morale was at an all time low. Of course I supposed it could yet get lower, that is if the prophesies of doom had any basis – although at least that would give the guards something to lay down their lives for, in a futile effort to prove their 'valour', ironically perhaps raising morale among them.

Leaving the main gates, I mounted Shadow, and we rode down the road and across the bridge. The weather combined with the presence of Lake Rumare contrived to lay a thin mist over the land – enough to cloak my movements perhaps, although it would do the same to any foes that lay in wait. However, I suspected that I would leave this humid climate, and its accompanying weather, behind as I climbed to the north of the land, turning now up the lake side path with the intent of ascending above Lake Rumare, and taking the Silver Road towards Bruma.

Upon leaving the Imperial City I had placed the greater part of my possessions in the Shadow's saddle bags, including all my ingredients (aside from the two Nirnroot I had found thus far), a number of the Welkynd stones (for emergency use), and of course the Stone of Miscarcand, which I kept ever close. The truth of the matter was that on top of the previously mentioned reasons for a residence, such as training and security, it would also prove useful as a location to secure valuable items which had no immediate use – chief among these being spare clothing, books, keys, and of course my alchemy equipment and reagents. Weighing down the fastest steed in the land with miscellaneous items seemed a great waste, and I intended to throw the saddle bags away for good upon securing permanent storage facilities.

Although this journey was intended so as to allow me to survey my property, and perhaps home, there was every chance I might have to pay for internal improvements – or a different residence if this proved inadequate. I had therefore determined that I would attempt to acquire as many valuables as I could carry while en route. Therefore instead of simply passing the ruins of Fort Empire I chose to investigate, to determine whether it was again inhabited (I had cleared it out on my last visit) – and perhaps scour it of wealth again, if it was. With this in mind I dismounted Shadow at the crumbling archway which had marked the periphery of the fort, and entered the interior of the ruins, having seen no signs of life while outside.

My eyes had barely began to adjust to the gloom when I felt as much as heard a movement behind me, and I dived to the right, my free hand instinctively moving to summon forth a lesser Atronach. It was fortunate that I did so, for it transpired that a troll, whom had gone previously unseen, had followed me in to the ruins. Trolls are stubborn foes, and while my minion took the greater share of the blows, I was still wounded in the conflict. Calling forth healing magic, I felt the influence of the restoration magic rushing down my body like a waterfall, painfully binding together torn flesh and flayed skin in a mere second of agony. This spell was of greater power than the variant with which I had emerged from the prison, but it was similar in that the healing was rushed, rather than working over a long duration. The lasting ache in my limbs was enough to lead me to set aside my previous bold intentions, and I therefore limited myself to a little scouting.

Descending to the base of the opening passage silently (the sounds of the fight having apparently drawn no attention), I hugged the wall and peered around, my detect life spell having already determined that two creatures were present, both some distance away. The closer of the two was a Troll, but I had no time for it, my attention instead being drawn to the shape drifting in the distance. It was as no creature I had seen before, my spell having established that it was indeed alive, despite looking more like a spell than a being with corporeal form. It was like a wisp of glowing mist, gliding above the ground in a swirl of glowing light – and senses other than my eyes prompted me to give it an examination of a different kind. Focussing my mind, I attempted to read into the thing before me. Such senses are best used in understanding magic, but proved particularly effective here – upon what appeared to simply be a form of malevolent living magicka. As I explored deeper my perception began to lose focus, but this itself was a clue as to the abilities of the wisp – it could drain mental and magical attributes. Shaking my head a little to clear it, I withdrew. Although I felt I could, through the use of spells and magical weapons, defeat this foe, that was not what I was here for. Besides, I needed all my wits about me for this journey, and didn't want them diminished in a pointless conflict. In time I would surely encounter one of its kind again, and use my newly trained skills against it, but for now that could wait.

Having given a detailed account of my short and tentative exploration of Fort Empire, I shall be brief regarding the following section of my journey. Riding along the path I encountered two bandits and a mountain lion before I arrived at the crossroads – the former proving stubborn, while the latter transpired to be extremely dangerous, its ripping claws leaving an ache despite and in consequence of the healing magic I was forced to use. I then paused for a time at the crossroads, exploring a small set of Elven ruins - for the second time, for I had been here some time ago. They had since been repopulated by bandits, and I again killed them all, claiming several sets of chainmail and mithril in the process. The only fight of particular note however was against the bandit ringleader, a female redgaurd. She was equipped with an enchanted shield and mace, and continued to target me despite the more immediate presence of my minion. For all that she died fairly quickly, and I departed the ruins with as much as I could carry unaided, including a number of Dwemer arrows.

The excess weight proved sufficient to slow our journey north, leading me to again hope for a time when I had a permanent storage location. Little of note occurred in this stage of the journey, although we came across an obelisk, glowing with a pale green light. I had seen similar structures in the past, but never from this close, and I recalling that the lecture I had passed at the Arcane University had been regarding such stones. Perhaps I would give them some study in the future, but for now the mounting cold impelled me to press onwards.

The road was relatively bare, with scattered camps marking the side of the path as we advanced from the east of Bruma, a chill now setting in. Ominously enough the camps I came across were completely deserted. Did those who use them only remain during the day? Or perhaps something had happened to them. Again however I chose not to pause to investigate, continuing onwards.

Frost clung to the grass and trees as we traversed the mountainous terrain, until after much path searching, I finally sighted Frostcrag Tower. In all honesty if I had not known its location in advance it is unlikely that anything short of a lengthy search would have found it – that in spite of its elevated position, providing a stunning view of much of Cyrodiil. The tower was circular, with steps leading up from its base, the peaks adorned by slowly spinning arcane ornamentation. Or inane decoration. It was hard to tell from here. As I approached rain began to fall, the chill of the location combined with this rising storm proving to create an almost unbearable, penetrating sensation. It was at times like this I wished I could control the weather... One thing was for certain however, Shadow could not survive long in such an exposed location, particularly due to the lack of grass – if it was present, then it was doubtless underneath several feet of ice. I would therefore have to be quick before I sent Shadow away – or indeed myself rode back.

Approaching the base of the tower, I ascended two flights of stairs, until I stood at the door - which appeared sealed. Drawing forth the deed of ownership from my robe, I pressed it against the entrance, while simultaneously speaking a basic word of opening. Such spells are not difficult, being more a statement of general intent as used in all unsealing spells – after which the specifics designed to defeat the locks are generally uttered. Such was unnecessary in this case, which was fortunate – as I judged that no spell alone would unseal this gate. The deed of ownership proved sufficient however, and the door yawned forth, providing an exit from the torrential downpour. With a final glance toward Shadow, who stood alone against the onslaught of the elements, I entered.