Master Miraak's First Lesson
Miraak watched the boy closely as he opened the book. His long, steady fingers turned the pages with inhuman speed, the paper barely brushing the air before it was left behind. In the blink of an eye, he had gone through the entire text, absorbing its contents as if pulling them from the very ink and engraving them into his memory. When he closed the book, he did so calmly, the dry thud of its spine echoing through the room like a final note.
"T-t-t… who are you? Are you real? Or am I hallucinating?" Percy's voice wavered between confusion and fear. "Again… I don't know if I'm losing my mind. Are you the guy who saved me before? Or… no… I don't know…" His words tangled together, as if trapped in a mental loop he couldn't escape.
Miraak glanced at him sideways, raising an eyebrow with an expression that blended curiosity and mockery.
"They've lied to you for so long it's no wonder you're like this. I read in a mortal book that the people of this plane go insane if they're treated as if they were mad… How weak," he said in a dry, almost amused tone.
"I have a lot of questions for you. What was that thing? Are there more? I've seen strange things before, but never this close. What happened to it? Who are you?" Percy blurted out, stepping closer, his brow furrowed and his voice thick with urgency.
"Human younglings are as noisy as I remember," Miraak replied without looking away. "Who are your progenitors?"
The bluntness of the question made Percy hesitate. He didn't know that, to Miraak, that aura was unmistakable—an unusual mix of mortal essence and a divine echo. That was why he had watched him for days. Since arriving in this world, Percy was the only one he had found with that kind of energy.
"What am I supposed to say…? Sally Jackson?" Percy answered, puzzled.
"Does she control lightning?"
"Uh… no. Though she makes a pretty good meatloaf," Percy said, even more confused.
"And your other progenitor?"
"I never met him. My mother said he was lost at sea. He was a sailor."
Miraak frowned, studying him carefully.
"So, you're something like a dovahkiin chosen at random from the souls?" he murmured, watching Percy's every movement as if to discern whether he was lying. Finally, he set the book on the desk and turned away, ready to leave. He seemed convinced the boy had no connection to the one who had struck him with lightning on the day of his arrival. Without that link, he had no interest.
"Wait," Percy said firmly. "I answered your questions. Wouldn't it be honorable for you to answer mine as well?"
Miraak turned slowly, raising an eyebrow. Percy held his gaze for a moment, but then lowered his eyes.
"Ask," Miraak said as he sat in the nearest chair, resting an arm casually on the backrest.
Percy gave a small smile and began thinking aloud.
"What happened to Mrs. Dodds? No… Why did she try to attack me? No… Why did she turn into that? No… What was that?"
His thoughts jumped from one question to another, unable to settle, until something—like a whisper not his own—slipped into his mind. His gaze drifted toward the window, and even Miraak turned his head in the same direction, stroking his beard with silent interest.
Percy looked back at him, this time with resolve.
"Please… train me."
Miraak's eyes narrowed, weighing the weight of those words. His interest grew… and a deep, rolling laugh burst from his chest.
"Ja… hahahahaha…"
The sound was so powerful the ground began to vibrate. The walls creaked, the windows rattled, and outside, even the storm seemed to pause, as if nature itself were listening. Percy gripped the bedframe to keep from losing his balance.
"Perhaps you're not the child of that god… but you are the child of someone of his same kind," Miraak said when the tremor subsided. "Fine, whelp… no, brat. If you dared to ask me that, prepare yourself to suffer."
He rose and walked until he stood directly in front of him, his shadow falling over the boy.
"I've never trained anyone before. But if you die, I will bring you back until you complete your training. I also want to see how far you can go… and in return, I will have my moment for vengeance."
A fleeting thought crossed his mind, one he kept to himself: the possibility of achieving in this realm what he could not in the last… to reach a power above all, bowing to no one. Now that he knew gods existed here as well, Percy could be a step toward that goal.
Meanwhile, Percy looked up at him with a slight tremor, unsure whether he had just done something courageous… or if he had finally lost his mind by obeying that voice that had urged him to speak.
…
"Lord Miraak?" Percy asked nervously, arms pressed to his sides against the chill of the morning. They stood in the middle of an empty clearing deep in the forest, the grass damp with a layer of frost that bit into his feet. Miraak, seemingly unaffected by the cold, sat calmly atop a nearby rock as if it were an improvised throne.
"For now, call me 'Master Miraak,'" he replied, not taking his eyes off the boy.
"Master? … Never mind. What's that?" Percy asked, pointing incredulously at the two large chests resting in front of him.
"While searching at the bottom of the sea for some stalhrim, I remembered there are no ancient tombs buried under ice here," Miraak explained in his calm, firm tone. "According to certain mortal texts, many ships have been found on the ocean floor, so I thought I might find something useful. But all I found was gold. I planned to use it to forge a pair of weapons… but to have acceptable quality, I'd need a proper forge. I won't work with trash. For now, you'll carry this on your back."
Percy felt as though everything he had just heard condensed into one absurd idea: carrying chests full of gold… on his back.
"Sir… I mean, Master Miraak… I don't think I can carry a chest that's the same size as me."
"Not one. You'll carry both."
The boy froze. He walked up to one of the chests, grabbed one of the side handles, and tried to lift it. He barely managed to move it a single millimeter before his arms trembled and his muscles burned.
He took a deep breath, tried again, and managed to make the heavy structure scrape faintly against the ground. Miraak watched him with a mix of disappointment and calculation. To anyone else, seeing a twelve-year-old even attempt to move what could easily be five hundred kilos of gold would have been astonishing… but not to him.
"Mmm… it seems humans in this plane are even weaker than I thought. I had already noticed it, but not to this degree," the Dragonborn commented, watching Percy struggle again and again.
…
"Well… now I can lift it… more or less," Percy muttered, panting. The enormous load hung from a backpack reinforced with thick ropes he'd had to buy so it wouldn't fall apart under the weight. He advanced with difficulty, taking clumsy steps, his body hunched over. "If people saw me training with a backpack full of ancient gold… I wonder what they'd think."
"Stop talking and start running," Miraak ordered with a hint of annoyance.
Percy obeyed, dragging his feet.
"By the way, sir… I mean, Master Miraak… could I keep one or two coins? You have so many… and I think my mother could really use at least something… if it's not too much trouble, of course."
"I'll use it to craft weapons and armor, even if it's not the best material for it. You can keep the gemstones. I don't like wearing jewelry."
"Really? Thanks." The sparkle in Percy's eyes gave him the strength to take a few lighter steps. "But… if gold isn't a good material, why not just use it to buy something better?" he asked, already short of breath.
"They don't accept gold here. I don't even know where I could buy another material."
"Well… just trade the gold for money. There's no one who wouldn't want to buy gold, especially if it's ancient. I could ask my teacher…"
Miraak glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and in his mind came the image of the teacher in a wheelchair, cloaked in a concealment spell. His brow furrowed slightly.
"I'll see what to do later. Stop talking and train."
…
"Percy, I finally found you! You've been acting strange all week. What's going on?" Grover asked, approaching from behind and giving him a pat on the back.
"Ow… ow… ow…" Percy groaned, twisting in pain from the blow. "Grover, don't do that," he said through clenched teeth.
"Homework?" the satyr asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah… and now I have to go keep working on it… again," Percy replied with exaggerated sadness. He muttered to himself, "I was crazy that day for asking for this." And he began walking slowly, as if time itself were trying to delay his return to the training field.
…
"I'm here, Master Miraak," Percy announced upon arriving, setting the backpack down to one side. Miraak was already there, sitting and holding a skewer of meat, roasting it over a makeshift campfire beside him.
"Mmm," the Nord murmured, motioning lazily for the boy to come closer.
Percy sighed in resignation and turned back toward the backpack, which now seemed heavier than ever.
"When did you say you would return to your kingdom?" Miraak asked, without looking directly at him.
"It's not a kingdom… it's an apartment. Sometimes you confuse me when you talk like that," Percy replied with a tired look. "And… in a week. My expulsion finally begins, eeeh," he added, forcing a fake smile.
"Mmm… then you'd better learn to use a sword right away. The number of flies has increased in recent days. You should start dealing with them yourself."
Percy blinked, puzzled. "Flies?" He didn't understand at first… but soon a smile spread across his face. At last, he would learn to use a sword.