The dremora looked on the young boy with disdain. He looked to be no more than seventeen or eighteen, on the cusp of manhood. "You? You have summoned me?" "Mother says I'm good with spells. Someday I'm gonna be a wizard. Maybe even archmage!" "And what would your mother know of magic, boy?" "She's a wizard! She's an Enchanter at the Arcane University." "Ah. Another dabbler in the mystic arts. I'm certain she is barely mediocre." "You shut up! I read the scroll. I get to tell you what to do." The dremora was silent. Compulsion bound his voice. The dremora's answer was more silence.