Felix Caelus

It's a small thing, a subtle kind of magic. But Felix is sensitive to foreign magic more than anything. The moment his fingers brush the edges of the brooch he notices. His own cloak is slung over his arm while he pauses to examine it. That's new, and he didn't give it to Jim. Perhaps Stratos? It's beautifully crafted, and it looks Nirnish... but the feel of it (though elusive) is not.

But his name is spoken, and the conjurer looks up in a hurry to find his father giving him another smile.

"Yes, indeed. Are you coming, Felix?"

"Of course." He flashes a smile back and hangs up the cloaks. No doubt his father will just think he's nervous. No doubt. It's so easy to forget the kind of work Nereus does.

"Have you been on the road all day?" he asks as they settle down. Terentius has his preferred seat near the fire, next to a heavy jug which he uses to dispense drinks to the new arrivals. They're warm, and turn out to contain a kind of mulled cider. Someone took notes on Jim's preferences back in Cyrodiil. "I was starting to fear none of us would arrive before the snows."

"Fortunately no, we stayed overnight at an inn. The climb up to Bruma takes long enough with a hot meal and a night's rest behind you."

"True." But his father's curious attention is turning back to Jim. "How did you find it, captain? I take it you're a landsman yourself, so perhaps Skyrim has prepared you well for our mountains."