Intel

As they passed through the gates, the sight of soldiers training in the yard greeted them. Men in patched armor and tattered gambesons stood in formation, clashing swords against wooden shields, their movements rigid and methodical. A grizzled man, likely a drill sergeant, barked orders at them, his voice hoarse from years of shouting.

Serana cast an unimpressed glance at the training grounds. "They're barely more than peasants with swords," she muttered under her breath.

Calion hummed in agreement. "A militia at best. Likely conscripted farmers or former bandits. The lord here must be desperate if this is his fighting force."

They continued past the clanging of steel, heading toward the largest structure in the stronghold—a wooden mansion that served as the lord's keep. It was sturdy but plain, a far cry from the stone fortresses of wealthier rulers. The wooden beams were damp from exposure, and the faint scent of mildew lingered in the air.

As they approached the entrance, the guard who had escorted them turned to face them. "Wait here. I'll inform the lord of your arrival." He stepped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

With a quiet sigh, Serana folded her arms. "So, what's our story? We need to seem harmless enough for him to talk, but not weak enough for him to try anything foolish."

Calion leaned against one of the support beams, his fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood as he thought. "How about hermits? Recluses who have just emerged from isolation after years away from civilization."

Serana raised a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "There's some truth to that," she said, amusement flickering in her crimson eyes. "Though I doubt he'd believe you've been isolated. Me? Maybe. You? You don't have the air of a man who's been shut away from the world."

Calion shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Then let's say we were scholars—ones who preferred seclusion but have now returned to seek knowledge of the world's changes."

Serana considered it before nodding. "That works. Most lords won't question the eccentric habits of mages, as long as we don't threaten them."

Their conversation was cut short as the door creaked open, and the guard stepped out. "The lord will see you now. Follow me."

The solar was dimly lit, a modest chamber lined with wooden furniture, shelves filled with old tomes, and a hearth where embers still smoldered. The scent of aged parchment and damp wood filled the air. At the center of the room stood the lord of the fortress, a man in his late fifties, dressed in a modest but well-maintained tunic lined with fur. His hair was streaked with gray, his face lined with the stress of rulership.

Despite the welcoming smile on his lips, there was something disingenuous about it. His eyes—calculating, shrewd—betrayed his true nature.

"Ah, esteemed guests," he greeted smoothly, gesturing toward a couch opposite his own seat. "Please, sit. You must be weary from your travels."

Calion and Serana exchanged a glance but accepted the offer, seating themselves. The wooden couch creaked slightly under their weight.

The lord took his own seat, folding his hands together as he observed them with thinly veiled curiosity. "So, what brings you to my humble town? We don't often receive… visitors of your sort."

Calion met his gaze evenly. "We have lived in seclusion for some time, dedicating ourselves to our studies. Only recently have we chosen to re-enter the world, and we seek to understand the current state of affairs."

The lord tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "Ah, scholars, then? A rare breed these days." His fingers tapped absently against the arm of his chair. "I would be delighted to share what I know, but you must understand—ruling a fortress such as this is no small task. I am quite busy."

Serana shot Calion a knowing look. The meaning behind the lord's words was obvious—he wanted something in return. Perhaps gold, perhaps a favor.

Calion, however, was already prepared for such a tactic. With a quiet exhale, he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. A pulse of magic rippled through the room, subtle yet potent.

The shift was immediate. Every metallic object in the chamber—goblets, buttons, sword hilts—shimmered and transformed into solid gold.

The lord's eyes widened, his breath hitching. He looked down at the goblet in his hand, now gleaming with unnatural brilliance. Slowly, his lips parted into an awed—almost greedy—smile.

"Of course," he said, straightening in his seat. "Matters of state can always be set aside for distinguished guests such as yourselves."

Serana barely concealed her smirk as the lord leaned forward, suddenly all too eager to speak.

For the next few hours, the noble relayed what he knew, and the picture he painted was grim.

Nilfgaard's black banners had already swept through the south, conquering Cintra, Sodden, Lyria, and Aedirn. The Northern Kingdoms, fractured and disorganized, had only just begun rallying their forces to hold back the empire's advance. The alliance at the Yaruga River was holding, but for how long was uncertain.

The death of Princess Adda of Temeria was another crucial event. King Foltest had besieged Lavelette Castle, determined to reclaim his children from those who had defied him. Some claimed there was more to the situation—that the children were not merely stolen, but that something darker lurked within the castle walls.

Across the seas, whispers of sorcerers scheming and monsters prowling the edges of civilization continued to spread. Entire villages vanished overnight, and even those who had never feared the dark now locked their doors and prayed to whatever gods they still believed in.

When the noble finally leaned back, he let out a weary sigh. "The world has changed much since you last walked it," he mused, swirling the now-golden goblet in his grasp. "If you two are truly returning from seclusion, you've chosen an interesting time to do so."

Calion simply smiled. "Perhaps."

Serana studied the noble, her gaze flicking to the extravagant gold objects still littering the room. "And you?" she asked. "With war on your doorstep, what do you intend to do?"

The lord hesitated for a brief moment before forcing a smile. "I will do what is necessary to protect my people."

A practiced response. Not an honest one.

But they had learned what they needed.

The noble, still eager to remain in their good graces after witnessing Calion's casual display of power, offered them accommodations for the night. His tone was respectful, but the glint in his eyes revealed his true intentions—he wanted something in return.

Serana, ever perceptive, merely smiled before giving a polite yet firm response.

"We'd love to, but we have a lot of catching up to do and acquaintances to check up on," she said smoothly.

Calion gave a small nod, reinforcing the decision without further explanation. The noble lord, realizing he would get nothing more out of them, merely inclined his head in understanding, though disappointment flickered across his face.

As they stepped out of the wooden mansion, the fortress was already settling into the night. The training grounds, which had been bustling with soldiers earlier, were now nearly deserted. A few stragglers tidied up the area—stacking wooden training swords, putting out torches, and heading for whatever meager rest their station allowed.

The air smelled of damp earth and burning wood, and the wind carried distant sounds from the town below—muffled conversations, the occasional bark of a stray dog, and the rhythmic creaking of wooden structures in the breeze.

Serana pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and glanced at Calion.

"Let's return to the College," she said, her voice laced with the same urgency he felt.

Calion agreed without hesitation.

"The apprentices are probably still panicking. We need to properly address the situation."

Without another word, the two ascended into the sky, their forms vanishing into the night like silent wraiths. The fortress and its flickering torches shrank below them, giving way to the vast, shadowed landscape of this new world.

The sky above them was a canvas of stars, unfamiliar constellations dotting the heavens in strange patterns. This was not Nirn, and the thought gnawed at Calion's mind as they soared toward the distant silhouette of the College of Winterhold, now sitting atop a lonely mountain in this foreign land.

As they flew, Serana voiced what they had both been considering.

"So this world is in the middle of a continent-sized war… and a king with no heir is probably trying to reclaim his children to secure his throne."

She exhaled, her crimson eyes narrowing in thought. "Wars over succession are the bloodiest kind."

Calion nodded, mulling over the implications.

"We need to secure the College first," he said, his voice tinged with resolve. "I'll probably have to make the apprentices sign contracts to ensure they don't reveal anything that could endanger us."

Serana smirked slightly, already anticipating the problem.

"Even if they feel safe now, once they realize how different this world is, some will try to leave," she said. "And that could become a problem."

Calion sighed, rubbing his temple as he considered their options.

"If they leave, they could be captured, interrogated, or worse—hunted for their magic. This world doesn't seem to treat sorcerers with much kindness."

Serana hummed in agreement.

"We might have to implement stricter rules. The last thing we need is an apprentice spilling our secrets to the wrong people."

For a moment, they both fell into silence, only the rush of the wind in their ears accompanying their thoughts.

Calion's mind raced with considerations. If this was the beginning of the second war, then Foltest was still alive and still besieging La Valette Castle. He had some time before the inevitable assassination that would throw the realm into chaos.

Should I save Foltest or not?

If the Temerian king proved useful, perhaps. If not, his death would only further plunge the Northern Kingdoms into disarray—a power vacuum that could be manipulated.

Besides, it would be beneficial to observe the strength of this world firsthand. Magic here was weaker than on Nirn, and he doubted any sorcerer or warrior in this land could stand against a true Dovahkiin. Still, understanding their capabilities would be wise.

His thoughts shifted toward the College itself.

Should I move it to a better location?

The mountain was defensible but small—too isolated for future expansion. He also recalled seeing a familiar landmark near their new position. A lone, ancient oak, twisted and gnarled, standing resilient against the elements.

Could that be the tree from which one obtains the magical acorn?

If so, then the witches of the swamp would eventually come looking for it. They weren't the most formidable threat, but they were persistent—and they would need to be dealt with.

"We'll need to take care of the witches, too," he mused aloud.

Serana glanced at him.

"Which witches?"

Calion gestured vaguely toward the direction of the swamps.

"there what the locals refer to the Hagraven, I sense that there's a coven in the swamplands near here."

Serana's lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Sounds familiar."

Calion chuckled. "They're not too troublesome, but it's better to deal with them before they become one."

Serana considered this.

"Do you plan on wiping them out or… making them work for you?"

He shrugged. "That depends on their attitude."

Serana hummed in amusement. "You always do like keeping your options open."

Their conversation continued as they approached the College, its spires piercing the darkened sky. The massive structure, now an island among foreign mountains, radiated an eerie grandeur in the moonlight.

As they drew closer, Calion could already sense the chaos within. Panicked voices, hurried footsteps, and a distinct lack of discipline echoed from the halls below.

Serana sighed. "They're still panicking, aren't they?"

Calion smirked. "Wouldn't you be, if your entire home suddenly appeared in a completely different world?"

Serana laughed dryly. "Fair point."

They descended toward the College, bracing themselves for the inevitable flood of questions and chaos that awaited them.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________It's shorter than usual, I spit in half. I will probably release it tomorrow