Chapter XVI: Approaching The Tower

"And the foolish big dragon was boastful no moreeee....

When his ugly bronze head got smashed down to the floor!"

Marco finishes his rendition of the famous song with a dramatic flourish and the gathered partygoers cheer and laugh, tankards clinking and ale flying all over the place, and a bunch of them toasting Minthara Dragonbane, the young woman going completely red at the praise all the while I cackle as I was the one who let out that it was her that delivered the killing blow.

Yes, she already got an 'honor name' as the Nords called it but considering that she did just murder a beast of legend I am not surprised by this development, even though they could work on their creativity a bit... Besides, giving her some earlier glory would no doubt do wonders for when she actually ends up needing to get what she wants from people in her quest to save the world.

All according to cake... or was it caike... caiku? I don't know I watched that damn thing a century ago!

I chuckle at my trailing thoughts and take a sip of my own drink before turning to a scowling Phineas "Not in a celebratory mood Gestor?"

He huffs and rolls his eyes "Your taunts grow ever more childish Reyvin."

Shaking my head with a sigh I turn back to the party, but then an idea comes to mind and I quickly turn back to the lich with a curious expression "Why not attempt to create some form of homunculus if you still yearn for what you have lost?"

He blinks "A homoncu- what now?"

"A homunculus" I repeat "You know, like an artificial body?" My expression tells that it should be obvious which just serves to irritate the grouchy bone boy even more.

Even Tolfdir seems curious and starts listening in, Phineas on the other hand seems to be brainstorming the idea, his expression is unchanging but if he still had flesh I would bet my vault that his eyes would be shifting around like mad right about now.

He finally turns to me "The amount of work and research would take me... decades at least." His voice is excited, that amount of time seeming tiny in the undying creature's mind.

"And what if we made it a collaborative effort?" I ask with a smirk "My research into the Falmer, your research into anatomy, and Master Tolfdir's own skills at alteration..." I trail off as his eyes focus on me "We could finish it far quicker." I finally state.

Phineas' aura tightens a bit, his expression still unchanging and he asks "And what do you wish in return for this?"

I pretend to think for a while before finally explaining "I will no doubt come upon my... more notorious ancestor's work at some point and such things would be of great use to me. If you were to promise your assistance in perfecting what I find I would be most happy to aid you in your own research."

"You also wish to become undead?" Phineas whispers, surprised. It was known among the older magi and those with access to the college library that Dagoth Ur was for all intents and purposes a lich with his phylactery being the Heart of Lorkhan, so his question was completely justified.

I scoff and shake my head "No, I wish to use his knowledge to become something... more."

It is at this point that Tolfdir interjects, his brow creasing as he warningly points out "You should know what happens to those who overreach Reyvin." 

"Oh I assure you I have no desire to go that far" I immediately dispel his initial impression "I merely want to see how far I can take what I was born with."

"I see..." He trails off before once more giving me a grandfatherly smile "In that case I too wish to help you in this, if only to make sure you don't erase yourself from existence."

I nod at the old man before turning back to Phineas "So, my undying friend, do we have an accord?"

His glamor doesn't shift but my eye sees his skull twist into a greedy grin.

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Things turned very serious after the celebration and as many of the adventurers could attest, the two weeks during which we waited for reinforcements were hell. I imposed strict discipline at all times which caused a lot of grumbling.

When I limited the amount people could drink after one incident where a drunken fool got himself stabbed by a Falmer scout the rowdy bunch nearly rioted. Naturally the trashing I gave the loudest among them quickly dissuaded any further complaints.

Unfortunately I had to slow down most of my work due to constantly being active and moving about, ensuring we didn't get suddenly swarmed.

I let Edrassa take over the work on the more mundane automatons in my collection, the Dunmer woman seemed to have a talent for mechanics and with her skills in alteration she near instantly got into a frantic rhythm of pumping out spiders and spheres.

I even rewarded her with an enchanting lesson... only for her to allow her to better inscribe my mechanical army of course, she has the college for the other stuff.

One fine evening I decided to create a momento of my first fight with a giant scaly lizard so I had a row of dragon scales attached to my sash, almost like a row of medals. And to my great surprise the sash now improved my abilities with dragonrend!

Besides doing some stitching the only thing I really had the time for, helping Minthara calm her raging dragon not really counting, was the Falmer project.

Nightshade now had both her eyes open and stood almost straight, actual silver-white hair finally growing atop her still crusty but somewhat more lively-looking head. She now spoke in a still somewhat croaky voice but at least she left the whole 'caveman speak' thing behind.

I even managed to get her to wear actual proper clothes! Instead of whatever chitinous abomination her kin still wore... The moment I presented her with one of the robes I had collecting dust from my previous expedition, I believe it even belonged to the 'king', she started pestering me about all I knew of her people's history. Instead of narrating everything to her I distracted her by convincing her it was better if she learned to read and studied the whole thing herself.

Back to the project, about two dozen other Falmer had their minds awakened at this point, with only one showing any kind of progress in the corporeal aspect. While we could technically speed the process up via magic, if the 'subject' was not sufficiently prepared or cognizant that would usually just end up with them painting my walls in an explosion of gore.

Still, we were progressing well. My insight into... I am hesitant to call it genetics, but for brevity's sake I will do so *Eh hem* My insight into genetic grew by the day, the metaphysical memory within the Falmer's blood combined with some samples taken from myself and my household allowed me to to some extent understand how inheritance worked in this world.

With copious abuse of my third eye, of course.

And just as I had initially guessed it was some odd mix of basic biology, magic, soul memory and divine providence. What the Falmer once were... what I am now, such creatures would never be able to come into existence on my old world.

And wasn't that a fascinating prospect? If the most basic intelligent life of this world was so... complex, I dread to imagine what I could achieve by delving deeper into this and fully improving every aspect of my existence.

Still, I would have to be patient. If improving a Terran human was as difficult as it was theorized 'back home' improving a creature such as a Mer, or even a Tamrielic human, would take far more effort and precision.

Good thing I had magic! To think I now had a master's degree in witchcraft... my parents would have been so proud!

Crazed ramblings aside, two weeks after the battle a new wave of reinforcements finally arrived and we could begin our war of conquest, and in my case subjugation, anew!

The new arrivals quickly fell in line after they heard tales of our glorious victory and as some of the workers and mercenaries were sent back I had no doubt that word would spread faster than wildfire.

The City of Blackreach became a constant battleground against the Falmer still hiding within the numerous tunnels, the meatgrinder working full force once more. A day where a group did not get butchered by a small horde became something of a holyday to the adventurers and the familiar dark humor I got used to while traveling with the legion was becoming commonplace.

Phineas buying out the corpses from the more... morally bankrupt among them raised some eyebrows but we downplayed it by treating the old lich like a cooky old man who liked to study healing.

Something he had to prove by actually healing people, much to his chagrin.

Tolfdir finally sent out the first batch of the somewhat functional Thralls he managed to heal up to settle within his own clan's holdings. I was not surprised to find that the old man was in fact a minor lord to a settlement some hours east of Winterhold, even if he did leave the ruling of it to his great great great grandson.

It took us another month after the reinforcements arrived to clear a path to the Tower of Mzark, we could have probably done it faster but it was better to be cautious and loot was abundant.

We even stumbled upon what we presumed was some kind of Lord's manor within the city walls, and to our great delight many tablets of Dwemer metal inscribed with their ancient script were discovered to be completely intact, without even a hint of rust!

Those were immediately sent up to the highest security wards of the college by Tolfdir, the old man moving so quickly I could only see an afterimage with my magic eye.

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Months of work and we finally stood before our prize, the Dwemer metal gate looked to be in pristine condition, faint bluish runes covering its imposing frame. My hand brushed at it's edges, searching for potential traps with both touch and magic, only really finding the wall of Magicka blocking our progress.

"Anything we should be worried about?" Phineas asks from behind me.

I shake my head while still working "Seemingly not, we only need to find a way to unlock the gate without damaging anything within."

"Indeed" Tolfdir adds from beside me, the old man making sure he could get me out of there if I fucked up "If we are correct and this is the abode of a tonal architect, damaging anything would be a massive loss."

I finally retract my hand from the gate and turn back to the gathered group, all three Masters, my household and about two dozen of the most grizzled veteran adventurers all looking at me attentively. "It seems that we should be safe from traps, apparently people don't like their living spaces afflicted with machine meat blenders... who would have guessed?"

Many of them let out a nervous chuckle and I nod at Tolfdir.

The old man approaches the gate and pulls out the lexicon Savos had given us, the moment he does so, the shield seemingly deactivates and the gates open, a pristine hall waiting beyond.

And yet even as I look upon the ancient mage's abode I cannot help but feel a sense of foreboding.

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The author drones

as the reader groans

for the time has come

for more stones.

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