The mining teams gradually settled into a steady rhythm. The Winterhold folk also hired some local mercenaries as guards. With these seasoned swordsmen filling in the gaps, they could reduce losses from sudden mishaps.
Skyl had Mage Onmund and the others assigned to protect the miners, while he personally led a group to pay a visit to Neloth.
Most of Solstheim's Dunmer lived in stone houses, half-buried underground. Neloth, however, lived inside a giant mushroom forty feet tall, as though he wanted his home to spear straight into the clouds.
Tel Mithryn was an enormous cluster of fungal structures. The stalk and cap of the towering mushrooms had already turned woody—hard as timber. These special plants, cultivated by House Telvanni from Vvardenfell, grew luxuriantly along Solstheim's southeastern coast, adding a few spoonfuls of fantasy color to land steeped in apocalypse.
When Brelyna spoke of her impression of Neloth, it was all hearsay. She had never actually seen him in person, nor exchanged letters with him. Some people live so long that they slowly become legends.
"Master Neloth is a councilor of the House. Ever since Red Mountain erupted two hundred years ago and Master Divayth Fyr vanished, he might already be the strongest in the family. He and Master Fyr both liked kidnapping the young daughters of House Redoran councilors, just because they thought it was fun… Supposedly his vault used to be packed with rare treasures. Back then, one of the family's favorite entertainments was sneaking into his vault to steal things. Lots of people did it again and again."
In Raven Rock, whenever locals brought up Neloth, they all said the same thing: an old madman.
Lady Moonshadow spoke of Neloth in the flattest tone. "I don't really like that child. Even when he was little, he never had much respect for the Reclamations." The mages nearby broke into a cold sweat. Everyone started guessing Moonshadow's true identity again—maybe she was some Daedric envoy, or something along those lines.
Skyl's group arrived at Tel Mithryn, and Neloth was loudly displeased by their sudden visit.
He was a bald Dunmer. He was very old, yet his face still looked more like a middle-aged man.
"Oh, wonderful. Another crowd of guests. It's almost like I forgot when I invited you." Neloth rolled his eyes. "Would any of you kindly remind me? And if you weren't invited, could you maybe not come barging into my home in a noisy mob?"
Brelyna apologized and explained that they were from the College of Winterhold.
"The College of Winterhold? That broken place that's about to sink into the sea?" Neloth immediately burst into loud laughter.
Brelyna's temper flared. "You judge Winterhold without knowing it. The College now is completely different from what it used to be. We're moving toward the future, while the Houses are still standing in place."
Inside Neloth's home, Skyl sensed a familiar presence—the strange residue left behind by his "big brother" Mora. In truth, the whole of Solstheim lay beneath Mora's invisible shadow. The Daedric Prince was paying close attention to this place. And here—where one of his Daedric artifacts lingered—that foreign taint was especially distinct. Even the shadows in the room seemed to twitch faintly, and the air carried a thin hint of briny sea-stink.
All of it was subtle enough that perhaps Neloth hadn't noticed—or perhaps he simply didn't care.
"You're pursuing Hermaeus's power?"
Neloth saw the young human looking around his home and couldn't resist a barb. "So, the rightful owner of Tel Mithryn is back, is he? Even what I'm researching needs to be questioned."
"Don't misunderstand. I'm just intrigued," Skyl said. "Coincidentally, I also know a little about Mora."
"You? A human? Your age isn't even greater than my house." Neloth snorted. "Be practical. First learn to understand a Daedric Prince's principles. But since you come from some tiny little college, I suppose it's no wonder you're this boldly ignorant."
Moonshadow let out a soft laugh. "Skyl, you should learn more about Daedric Princes, so little Neloth won't laugh at you again."
Neloth's face went purple. "What did you call me?"
"Child." Moonshadow repeated it comfortably. Her young, beautiful face looked almost saintly in its gentle pity. "I know you. The first time your mother held you up in front of me, you were just a tiny little thing. You were much cuter then than you are now."
The thousand-year-old mage hesitated, then tested the waters. "Aunt Japhina?"
"You don't have any aunt named Japhina." Moonshadow chuckled. "Nice try."
In front of Moonshadow, Neloth noticeably calmed down.
"Seems like you came prepared." He waved a hand, as though granting a favor. "Fine. Tel Mithryn welcomes you all. Just don't disturb my research. And don't touch anything here. Hmm? Want Canis Root tea? Brew it yourself, or go next door and find my steward."
Skyl examined the staff enchanter Neloth was so proud of.
"Hah—unbelievable, isn't it?" Neloth grinned smugly. "This is an unprecedented achievement. I invented it. Want to try? You can buy unenchanted staves from me."
He started hawking his business: for a single half-finished staff, he charged over two thousand septims, while the final product often wasn't even worth that.
A pure extortion racket, designed specifically to fleece spellcasters. Anyone who wanted to probe the enchanter's secrets had to bleed their purse.
Skyl took out a magnifying glass and pressed it to the device, checking the runes. After that, he used mental probing to examine the magical structure inside the heart stone.
"Go on, look closer." Neloth's smile grew even more self-satisfied. "Praise this marvel to your heart's content. Little mages like you could never make something like this—not in your entire lives—and you wouldn't even understand how it works. Or you can just praise me directly. I can handle it."
Skyl didn't hold back his admiration. "A brilliant idea. Using the soul-entity formed inside heart stone to store an enchanting ritual—that part truly didn't occur to me. But your research into the soul is a bit rough. Done this way, every enchantment consumes the heart stone's energy. You could replace it with a soul gem instead."
"What would you know?" Neloth's face reddened, like an Argonian whose tail had been stepped on. "My work is perfect! Replace it with a soul gem—impossible!"
Skyl pulled a raw chunk of heart stone ore from his pocket, then produced a filled grand soul gem. "Let me borrow your table."
Neloth huffed, pretending disdain, but his feet were rooted in place, and his eyes kept flicking toward Skyl.
Skyl used Legilimency to draw out thought-strings from the soul gem, linking them into the heart stone and slowly nurturing a newborn soul-entity. The sight made Neloth hesitate, wanting to speak and then stopping himself. Skyl imprinted an enchanting schema into the newborn soul, and right in front of Neloth, he used the heart stone to place a frost-warding rune onto a piece of cloth.
"What?!" Neloth snatched the enchanted heart stone away. "That's impossible—let me see!" He shoved his face close to inspect it, his expression twisting between light and dark. Then he gave a cold snort. "It's not that impressive. I would've figured it out myself sooner or later."
The Winterhold mages around them covered their mouths, laughing. A few couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud.
Neloth forced his face straight and demanded, "What position do you hold at the College?"
"An apprentice," Skyl answered sincerely.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Neloth suddenly relaxed and laughed. "Fine. I underestimated you. Looks like the College of Winterhold isn't completely useless—at least it has you, an excellent young mage. I am Neloth, of House Telvanni."
"Skyl. A traveler from afar." The young Hogwarts transfer student shook hands with the thousand-year-old mage. "It's a pleasure. By the way, we're planning to head into Mora's Oblivion realm soon. Interested in coming along? You happen to have one of his Daedric artifacts here. I can open an Oblivion Gate…"