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The Memoirs of a Breton Healer

These are the memoirs of Alafaire. A woman who has been called by many names: From a witch to a healer, from a charlatan to a warlock, from a traitor to a hero and from a broken vestige to the saviour of Nirn. Both death and might have followed closely at my heels, but it was never something I chose freely. All I can try is to tell my story as truthfully as possible and let the one who is reading decide what to believe.

Chapter One

I was born in the Breton merchant city of Wayrest, under the rule of King Emeric. I don't remember much of my parents, they were simple folk – kind-hearted and dilligent, or so I have been told. My father worked with wood and my mother sewed, but neither were great artisans or blessed with talent. Our house was small and smelled of dampness, and during the long winter months offered little protection from the harsh winds of Iliac Bay. I must have been cold and hungry, maybe beloved too, but too young to recall any of that.

Despite promises, the blue and silver banner did not grant wealth and security to all it's subjects, so with hopes for a better life my family decided to emigrate. Why they chose Abah's Landing, I do not know. Perhaps my father heard a lucrative tale at a tavern, of riches to be found and fortunes to be made. Or perhaps my mother, while visiting the market square, saw a painting of golden sands and endless sunshine. Maybe they decided to take the tallest ship at the harbour, or the one that smelled of exotic fruit and spices. Maybe they were deceived or coaxed. Or just plain foolish.

Whatever the case, my father was dead before the ship passed Tava's Blessing. Fever, they said, and buried his body while briefly stopping at Sentinel docks. There was to be no grave as my mother had hardly any gold with her. She must have mourned, and maybe I cried too. I'd like to think of her as brave because she decided to continue the journey. More likely she had little choice.

There are actual but vague memories of the voyage in my mind. I can distantly recollect endless waves against the hull, drops of salt and seawater in my hair and the shrieks of seagulls lulling me into sleep. And then, when we finally reached our destination, an almost cheerful confusion of unrecognizable voices, vibrant colours, scorching heat and sunshine so bright it nearly blinded us all. But no matter how hard I try, as she was right there with me, I cannot remember my mother.

She managed to find emplyment as a maid with an elderly Redguard couple, Bahleet and Israw, who ran a modest general store near the harbour. All I have heard of my origins is through them. Later they told me they felt pity for my mother, a penniless widow with no means to support herself let alone her daughter. Also Bahleet, the wife, took an initial liking to me because they had no children of their own and - according to her - I was a pretty, delicate little girl with ”honey coloured hair, rosy Breton skin and eyes as turquoise as the Abacean Sea.”

That was as far as our good fortunes went. Within six months of our arrival my mother got ill with a sweating disease and passed away. The adventure my parents had pursued ended up killing both of them, and it was obvious they were not meant for either great wealth or happiness. The story might have turned out differently had they decided to stay in Wayrest and settle for the humble life they were given. The only thing they managed to leave behind was a daughter, now orphaned and alone in an alien country, completely dependent on the goodwill of strangers.

(Please note that English is not my native language, so the text is not without errors and not as fluent as it would be with my mother tongue..!)
Edited by Calandrae on May 30, 2016 7:16AM
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