The mage guilds of Cyrodiil are places where losers who are not at all physically fit or lacking in other skills congregate. The most persistent and gifted go to the University of Arcane, and thanks to recommendations from all over the province, the...
Baragon Lemal awoke, early in the morning, despite the night's musings. Had managed to get a good night's sleep. There was probably a better tavern in the center of Korrol, but I fear some gray fox would steal my coin pouch in the night. Today was a day of sheer determination to get Elfrid out of trouble. Suddenly the spell had side effects, such as early aging, for example. Instead of wondering, Baragon left the tavern walking past the stone fence, "No way. I almost killed myself on it last time in the dark." Baragon thought to himself as he slowly approached the Great Oak, a favorite spot for the locals. On the way to the oak, Baragon tried to memorize every sign and person's face. Admittedly, there was very little of the former or the latter.
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"Fire and Steel." The local forge. I'm no warrior, but it's worth buying a dagger. Small weapons are easier to hide from the guards. Relying on magic in all situations is foolish and unforesighted of me, I need to be versatile and develop as many skills as possible, although we all know that there are no universal people and there is always a predisposition to something. I still have a lot to learn.
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But there's magic involved in my case, and it's worth looking everywhere for traces of it. If you are not a magician, a scroll or potion in your hands is like a dagger or a sword in the hands of an inexperienced wizard.
Baragon Lemal came to the center of Corrol and sat in the very spot where Elfrid was reading. Two guilds flaunted right in front of his face. One filled with mages, the other with fighters. My suspect is a young wizard who decided to practice magic on an innocent girl. He or she is most likely studying in this affluent neighborhood. If Elfrid isn't telling me something, then I'm on the wrong track from the start. Folding his hands in a lock in front of him and lowering his gaze, Baragon began to cautiously observe the people passing by him. After a while, Baragon's gaze fell on a slender girl with an aristocratic gait; she was slightly older than Elfrid, but no less attractive. Her face was not perfect. A snub nose and chocolate colored hair braided into a ponytail. The length of her hair was quite good. Healthy and strong long hair. Brown eyes. An old green dress with dark blue edges worn over a blue shirt. The girl wasn't walking alone. She was followed by two dogs that looked more like wolves. It seemed that such large dogs were painted on the billboards of the city of Quatcha. They want to pass the dogs off as ravenous wolves. Although the guards of this city are more loyal like dogs than dangerous like wolves.
