School Supplies.

[Clark]

Clark nodded. "Magic is inherently volatile," he said. "Toldfir says it takes concentration and caution to use magic responsibly."

Clark pulled the flagon set for him close and sipped some of the strong Nord mead.

"Still, I bet you could learn Candlelight. It's the first spell I ever learned, and I learned it when I was ten. It's just a little light that hovers over your head for a time. Might help you if you had to be up late. Save you a few septims on candles and lantern oil."

[Calloway Sharr]

Calloway had no idea who Tolfdir was, but he presumed it was a Nord. Tolfdir sounded like a Nord name, or perhaps a small, funny looking variety of deer that lived on the tundra and made a cute squeaking noise so endearing that no hunter would kill one. Calloway suddenly wanted a Tolfdir, and a pain opened in his heart knowing he would never have one.

Again came that visible snap back to reality, and he took up his cutlery once more, sawing off another piece of horker loaf. "We'll see," he said. "I do see quite well in the dark, but color is certainly skewed in low light. A bit of magic actual light would be quite handy, I would imagine, yes. Well, that and I suppose it would also give me a bit more flair when presenting my work." Spearing that piece of horker on is fork, he swept it through some of his lumpy mashed potatoes, then the snowberry sauce, and for some reason he felt like assembling furniture from flat pieces. Banishing that random thought from his mind, he then sighed and said, "I do wish I'd been able to get a private meeting with the Jarl. I've traveled all this way to meet her, and I really wanted to give her a private showing, so he could fully understand my mission in life. I'm not leaving until I can see her without an audience to interrupt me."

With that, he jammed the forkful into his mouth, and chewed intently.

[Caethras Maur]

Alauriel shifted her eyes away as Calloway spoke about the Imperial City. One didn't have to venture far in Skyrim to meet someone who had either fought in the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion or who had lost friends and family in the fighting. The Imperial City in particular was a personal tragedy to many men and mer alike - the horrific sacking of the Imperial City by the Dominion was rivaled only by the Battle of the Red Ring, wherein the Imperial armies retook the city, slaughtered every last mer inside, and hung the body of Lord Naarifin from the citadel tower for thirty days before, according to legend, he was carried away in the claws of a flying Daedra. Such battles tended to be wrapped over time in shrouds of myth and song, but meeting someone whose life had been fundamentally altered by them made the uncomfortable history between the Dominion and the Empire impossible to ignore.

"I've never had much magical talent myself," the Altmer woman confessed, trying to keep up with the pace of the conversation. "Just enough for a healing spell, some flames for starting a campfire. Otherwise I'd be wearing robes instead of armor. But I want something pretty for evenings when I'm off-duty, something where I don't have to feel like a soldier."

She looked down at the carpet bag by Calloway's feet where the sketchbook and the fabric scraps had disappeared to, and where just hours before she'd seen several long dress boxes - longer, in fact, than the bag itself - emerge. "That's not all your stock there, is it?" she said. "I mean, surely your entire business couldn't fit... in..."

Alauriel frowned as if she were trying to work out a particularly complicated riddle.

[Calloway Sharr]

"In one bag?" Calloway completed her question for you, then grinned, shaking his head. "Of course not, my dear girl," he laughed. "This is just my samples bag, made slightly more practical by an enchantment I paid a pretty penny for. I can stick a few large things in it, but its limit is far from endless. Think of the capacity of a large trunk, in a size you can carry. Certainly it is handy, and convenient, but as it cost me half a year's income just to get that level of enchantgment, I couldn't imagine what it would take to afford a bag large enough to fit my whole stock!"

The Khajiit descended into giggles, holding up his paw to beg Clark and Alauriel's indulgence before he could continue. Sniffling a touch, he tried to pull a straight face, but was still clearly bemused. "No, my whole stock would easily fill a room, and is en route here by wagon, hopefully to arrive here tomorrow, or the day after."

Leaning down to close the latch on his bag, Calloway then nudged it closer to himself with his footpaw as best he could, hoping that would be enough to remove his bag from the night's list of curiosities. "And, speaking of tomorrow or the day after, before I can settle on a particular design for your dress, I will still need to meet with you for at least a measuring. I do recommend it be somewhere we have privacy, and likely I would suggest here, as I belive this tavern's inn is where I will be quartered for the duration of my stay. Tell me, have you ever been professionally measured, before, Miss Tanwynn?"

[Caethras Maur]

"I... no, I haven't," Alauriel said, finally taking her eyes away from the bag. Her golden-hued cheeks suddenly looked a little rosier than before.

[Calloway Sharr]

"Ah, I see," Calloway nodded. He folded one paw over the other, looking as professional as possible while he lowered his voice. "Well, for some it can seem to be an... intimate experience, but I assure you there is nothing scandalous or impolite in its actual function. We would arrange a time for you to come meet me behind some closed door, and I would have you undress - not completely, mind you, but just enough so that I may measure what is actually you, and not what is cloth. I generally recommend a client disrobe to their undergarments, but I can work with whatever level of modesty you prefer."

Seeing the look he was getting from Clark, who was clearly imagining the whole scene in his head, Calloway reached into his sleeve and from it pulled a long, waxed fabric measuring tape. Looping it around his wrist, he raised his arm as to display what he was doing. "From there, I take measurements of your body, and mark it down in my notebook," he explained, demonstating the length of his forearm, followed by the circumference of his neck before setting the tape down. "And from those measurements I will be able to adjust my dress form so that it takes on your shape, so that I may craft a garment perfectly suited to you, and only you, accentuating your best features while playing down any elements of yourself you may wish to not be noticed. The whole process takes a bit less than a half hour, though it will require me to touch a fair amount of skin in the process, as a natural side-effect. Though, if you wish, I can wear gloves so that I don't tickle."

The Khajiit smiled lightly at that, wiggling his fuzzy fingertips. "And, once I have my measurements, it shouldn't be more than a day or two before your dress is finished and you can be the envy of Solitude."

[Clark]

Clark watched some of the locals. They were getting pretty kind of loud. "I see a good opportunity for practice," Clark said. "You two make your arrangements, and then meet me outside. We can practice that Candlelight spell."

The mage took his mead and a sweetroll, placed a few septims on the counter near Corpulus as he stepped outside. The door shut. Several pale green flashes of light filled the windows and the cracks around the door, then suddenly it was quiet, except for the sound of stifled laughter.

[Calloway Sharr]

Calloway tried to raise a paw to object, not wanting the man who vouched for him to get into trouble that would wind up getting both of them kicked out, but it was too late. Ah, but for the eagerness of youth, he thought, his paw going back down while Clark headed out the door.

"As I was saying, I'll likely be quartered here, so when-" the Khajiit stopped mid-sentence when the flashes of light began to pop outside. Biting his lip, Calloway sighed. "I'm terribly sorry, we will have to continue this at another time. Please come see me tomorrow, and it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Tannwyn."

Getting up from his seat, Calloway offered a paw to help the Thalmor emissary up as well, no longer thinking of her for her title or affiliation, but as a customer. "Have a pleasant evening."

His dinner nearly finished, Calloway supposed it was good enough, though he did stop to finish the last of his wine before picking up his carpetbag. Money enough for dinner, his drink and a room for the night were given to Corpulus, and once Calloway had his room key, the tailor braved his way out into the street to see just what trouble Clark had gotten himself into, though he curiously fished his spectacles out of his pocket along the way.

[Clark]

Clark sat on the stones in the middle of the square, watching the people attempt to continue their argument under the magical compulsion of the Calm spells. Unable to raise their voices, let alone their fists, the townsfolk went to their homes. The mage, on the other hand, didn't look like he was laughing anymore. He shook the spells out of his hands and greeted Calloway with a smile that seemed a little tight.

"You wanted to learn that Candlelight spell?"

[Calloway Sharr]

The square cleared, but despite the excessive use of Calm, it still felt like a tense, trying place, and Calloway did not manage a smile at all as he pocketed his spectacles once more. Clark had done what he thought was best, attempted to dispel an angry crowd so that no fight would beak out, and no one would get hurt, and for that Calloway could sympathize with the young mage's intentions. But he did not believe the results were finished quite yet. The townsfolk could not argue, yes, but they could still think clearly, able to plot and plan through the night, now, to carry out whatever retribution they had intended on those they argued with. Calloway just hoped that in their forced calm they would also find a way to forgive and forget the night's hostilities.

Stopping near the stones, Calloway watched them go. "You don't look very happy," he said, bypassing Clark's question at first. "Not exactly the result you expected?" Setting his bag down Calloway tightened his cravat, then pulled his jacket closer in the rapidly cooling night air. "But, yes, that Candlelight spell would be lovely, if I can manage to actually do it."

[Clark]

The tense smile faded entirely. "They were arguing about..." Clark seemed to try to catch his breath to finish the sentence. "That damn war."

Clark shook his left hand, summoning the power of the Candlelight spell. "Magic is in everyone," he said. "Channeling that power requires no small amount of willpower. You summon it up, and then you maintain your focus to control it. It helps to have a trigger or a trick to help you with that. And then--" Clark put his hand over his head and opened his fingers. The spell made a fwa-womp as it was released. The ball of light in Clark's palm now floated over his head. "Once the spell is released, it will last until it fades. How long it lasts depends on you."

Clark shrugged, and his regular smile slowly came out of hiding. "Hold up your hands. It'll help to see where the magic is going to be channeled to."

The mage shook out his spell and pointed at his stomach. "The theory is that magic begins somewhere in here. When I first started learning to control the magic, I put my hands on my stomach and drew them upward as I focused on summoning the magicka within me." He showed Calloway as he spoke. "It may help you, too, if you're having trouble visualizing the flow of energy."

[Calloway Sharr]

"In time, they will see that their petty quarrel here in Skyrim between the Empire and the Stormcloaks is meaningless compared to the greater war which still plays out, its embers smoldering until they find the fuel they need for the flames to rage again," Calloway said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

He then watched and listened as Clark demonstrated with ease how the simple spell worked, and the Khajiit's eyes narrowed from the glare of the bright new light. "Impressive," he remarked. The Tailor then looked at his own paws, studying them intently. Much magic had already come from them, in the form of exquisite garments, deft movements and other creations, but never had true magic been unleashed with any form of success through those fingers. Still, he studied them as if trying to find some sort of hidden mystery which had been hidden there all his life. Instead he just found a smudge of snowberry sauce on one of his fingers, which he licked clean before it had the chance to dry into his fur.

"Magic begins inside me, eh?" Calloway mused. His paws were lowered to his trim stomach, and he closed his eyes, trying to feel the magic inside him. At first there was nothing, followed by more nothing, and then minor twinges of nothing. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the Khajiit focused once more, trying to block out the outside world as he searched for the source of his magicka.

Seconds passed, and nothing. Calloway was ready to give up, but just as he started to let his paws fall, he froze. There was something. A tremor, a feeling of warmth. Was that it? Was that the magic forming inside himself. Pursing his lips, the tailor squeezed his eyes shut tighter, focusing upon that warmth, feeling it build and build. Tail twitching in anticipation, he raised his paws slowly, feeling the pressure rising up through him. He was going to do it! He was going to erupt in a glittering light-show that would no doubt leave every previous incarnation of Candlelight in the dust, thanks to his superior sense of style. Fingers trembling with the sheer power he felt, Calloway let his eyes open as he released that power with all the force he could muster, and what came out was an incredible, powerful, and unforgettable... belch.

It echoed off the stone walls, reverberating as Calloway clapped his paws over his mouth, turning at least three shades of pink beneath his fur. When at last he uncovered his mouth, he gave a sheepish smile. "Heh, I think I accidentally channeled that horker I had for dinner, there."

[Clark]

Clark laughed heartily--so much so he nearly fell down! He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. "Oh, that was too funny! I broke wind the first time I tried to channel my magicka! Apparently it's a rite of passage for young mages."

His genuine smile back in full bloom, Clark got back to the task at hand. "You're a tailor, Calloway. Why not think of channeling your magicka like it were a needle and thread? Imagine summoning the magicka was like threading the needle, then channeling and casting the spell like sewing with that thread."

[Calloway Sharr]

Clark's admission of mage-based flatulence, brought a slight smirk to Calloway's face, but did little to restore his dignity. Shaking out his paws, the Khajiit tried to clear his mind, though his tail snapped back and forth in agitation.

Once focused, Calloway tried to let his creative juices flow, sensing the movement his arms and paws wanted to do naturally. Paws raised, Calloway watched with awe as he began to see the faint glow of magicka form in his palms, then extend torward his fingertips. He was doing it! He was making magic! He.... didn't know any spells!

In an instant, the glow popped, then fizzled out. "Uhh, shouldn't I probably learn the words to this spell, first?" he asked.

[Clark]

Clark started bouncing on his toes as the magic formed in Calloway's paws. The second the tailor lost control, the student mage rocked back onto his heels. When Calloway asked for words, Clark shrugged. "There's not really any words. You can chant if it helps you concentrate, or simply say the name of the spell you want to cast if it helps you form your intent. but magic is pure will. Not many true mages need to use words to shape a spell."

"It may be an oversimplification, but maybe it'll help; one of my fellow students says that in order to cast a spell, you have to really want it."

[Calloway Sharr]

What Calloway really wanted, at that point, was to not look like a fool again in the town square. Especially when customers might see him. Still, he now new the difference between magicka and a good burp, so there was that problem settled. Now he just had to sort out what he supposed light felt like. Funny, he'd never really thought of it, before, and he glanced to the glowing orb above Clark's head for some sort of inspiration.

Color, shape, placement, those things ran through Calloway's mind as the subtle glow of magicka formed at his fingertips. Thinking as a tailor, he stitched together the elements required for the spell, driven to make it the best, most powerful Candlelight spell this mage had ever seen, and once he had it set, Calloway grinned. "Here we go, one Candlelight, coming- Euaagh! Get away get away!"

As he spoke, Calloway was accosted by a large owl which had swooped down from the roof of Bits and Pieces, mistaking his fuzzy fingers for some sort of tasty treat. This particular owl had never gone after anyone else's fingers, before, but then again, it had never had a resident out and night with furrry, glowing fingers that looked like lit-up mice. Unfortunatley, they were fingers, and magic ones at that, and the owl wound up getting far more than it had bargained for.

Calloway channeled all his energy into the owl, driving it back with both hands, and simultaneously - and accidentally - released his spell. A brilliant, glowing orb burst from his paws, and latched itself right onto the bewildered owl. The whole scene went rather surreal as the new "mage" wildly swung his arms to drive the bird away, and the owl, bathed in magical light, flew away with his spell like a hooting wisp, to go perch upon a far roof, still glowing brightly.

Shaking, the tailor then balled his fists. "Okay, that's it! That's more than enough magic for one night! What in the bloody hell? That owl stole my spell! It's... it's luminous!" Picking up a small stone, Calloway reeled back and flung it at the owl, though his throw came woefully short. "Stupid, near-sighted, thieving bag of feathers! You try that again and I'll make a hat out of you!" he shouted, tail puffed out and lashing behind him. The small-framed Khajiit was so irate it was almost adorable.

[Clark]

Clark was veritably trembling with suppressed laughter. "That may have been a Magelight, rather than a Candlelight," Clark finally managed. "Magelight sticks to things. It goes out after a while. We'll have to watch, and see." With that, the Novice sat down on his rock again and took a pull at his mead.

Most of the time Magelight lasted maybe five or ten minutes, but this one wasn't going out. "I...don't think it's going to go out." His mead gone, Clark tapped the empty bottle musically against the stone. "Well, That's enough of that. Bed time, I think! We'll try again with the Lady Jarl Elisif tomorrow."

[Calloway Sharr]

Calloway was more than ready to call it a night. His day had not gone as planned, and in the last fifteen minutes he had embarrassed himself twice in the public square, saved only by the grace of nightfall causing it to be mostly empty of onlookers. Taking up his carpetbag once more, Calloway let his other paw hold on to the edge of his jacket. "Yes, I think a good night's rest is certainly in order," he nodded. "Good night, Clark. I'll see you tomorrow."

But as the Khajiit turned to head back into the Winking Skeever, he noticed Clark following, even as he entered through the door again. "Are you rooming here, as well?" Calloway asked. The look Clark gave him told all.

"Oh. I see," Calloway answered his own question. "Well, I do suppose I owe you for that nice warmup for the Jarl, so, of course you can room with me." Heading up the stairs to the tavern's inn rooms, Calloway drew the key from his pocket, and prayed that he had somehow managed to score a room with two beds, or at the very least one quite large one. As the door creaked inward, and the light from the hallway poured in, the tailor breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of two headboards. "I'll take the one on the left," he said, then set his bag down on the room's small table before bringing a candle out to light it from the hallway lamp. In short time, the room was lit well enough to be serviceable, but not so brightly as to hurt the eyes. Slipping his jacket off, Calloway folded it neatly and placed it on the table next to his bag. "I must say, after so long on the road, a real bed will feel quite heavenly."

[Clark]

Clark nodded. "Thanks, Calloway. Tomorrow, we'll definitely get you a second opportunity to talk to the Jarl."


***

The next morning, Clark and Calloway stood once again in front of the court of Jarl Elisif. Clark was still wearing his novice's robes. Like most residents of Skryim, Clark only had one change of clothing. Before he headed up to the frozen College of Winterhold, he would bathe and wash his robes. Until then, he would wait.

Calloway, on the other hand, was wearing yet another outfit. Without words to describe it, Clark could only pun about it. "Khajit Chic," his mind repeated every time he glanced at the tailor.

When Elisif entered her courtroom, she smiled at them both. "Ah, Mr. Sharr. I was hoping I would see you again. Clark must have encouraged you to come so early in the morning. It was wise; there is nothing on my schedule for the next few hours. I would love to see your clothes again."

[Caethras Maur]

"What did you learn last night about the Khajiit tailor?"

Lord Caethras Maur stood before a mirror of polished moonstone, very likely the only one of its kind in all of Skyrim, which he had brought from the Thalmor Embassy into the chambers set aside for the Aldmeri delegation in Castle Dour. The Altmer general stood in a loose shirt of white silk and linen trousers as a pair of Dunmer servants dressed him for the day's dalliances in Jarl Elisif's court. Other than the mirror and a chest of his own personal belongings, he had brought nothing to adorn the stark, black granite walls and floors of his palatial bedchamber. He had not even deigned to use the large, ornamented wardrobes his hosts had furnished, each one crowned with Nordic knots and rampant bears and the heads of wolves carved in stained pinewood. Were it not for the mussed sheets on the stately, four-poster bed against the back wall, there would hardly be any evidence the room had been used at all.

Alauriel Tannwyn stood at attention in her own golden armor while her superior was dressed. "He said he was orphaned outside the Imperial City when Lord Naarifin's armies were marshalled around it. Someone took him inside to the Temple of the Divines, and he was adopted by an Imperial family. Tailors by trade. Then he took up the family business, m'lord."

"And did he speak of his business in Solitude?"

"Only that he wishes for a private audience with the Jarl," Alauriel replied. "He said he wanted her to fully understand his mission in life."

Caethras raised his arms as his Dunmer attendants lifted his padded undercloth vest over his head. "And did he say what his mission was?"

"No. I mean, not directly. He only talked about his work." Alauriel's eyebrows pinched together, troubled. "M'lord, his work is extraordinary. Far too elaborate to be a simple cover."

"Is it, Subcommander?" Caethras said. "I remember a tailor called Sharr in the Imperial City. The shop was abandoned in the invasion, of course, but the master returned during the occupation to continue plying his trade. Uncommonly talented. Lord Naarifin himself purchased a suit from the man. He was fit two weeks before the Battle of the Red Ring."

His ice-blue eyes shifted toward Alauriel's, who instantly looked at the floor. There was not an Altmer alive who did not have reason to curse the Dominion's first and greatest defeat in the entire Great War, but Lord Maur had more reason than most. Naarifin had been like a father to him, a low-blooded soldier from Skywatch, and, deprived of the honor of dying alongside his mentor, Caethras appeared hell-bent on pursuing every coincidence, no matter how slight, that might have contributed to Naarifin's downfall.

The Dunmer began buckling on Caethras's enormous ebony-and-steel cuirass. "What of that bag of his? Did you get a closer look at it?"

"In passing," Alauriel said. "I asked him about it, and he only said there was an enchantment upon it that increases the space inside. He said the rest of his stock is coming to Solitude by wagon in a day or two."

"Assign a guard to the city gate with instructions to review the manifest of every wagon seeking entry into Solitude," Caethras ordered. "Anything addressed to Mr. Sharr, or any large shipment of clothing and textiles is to be thoroughly searched and scried for enchantments."

"It will be done, m'lord," Alauriel replied.

"Will you be seeing Mr. Sharr again?" Caethras asked.

The gilded soldier hesitated, open-mouthed, and blushed as she answered, "He's to take my measurements this evening, m'lord."

The Altmer general laughed, though there was no mirth in his voice. "See what else you can learn about his mission, Subcommander. But do take care not to be too charmed by his talents. Embarrass me again, and you'll be on the first ship back to the Summerset Isles."

Alauriel's blush turned pale, and she nodded. "I hear and obey, m'lord."