Winterhold, Skyrim, Loredas 20 Evening Star 4 e 203.

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. I recently found a book written by Mage Shalidor and gave it to the college librarian for translation. It will take him a few days, so in the meantime I spend most of my time in the library, studying the books available on the shelves.

Have you ever read the book Palla? Otherwise, I advise you to read it. This story is a mystery to me. I warn you that the following explanation is a spoiler: during a summons, the main character pronounces the name "Palla" while thinking of a beautiful woman, but instead, a monster appears because other people called it "Palla". For a long time, I thought that, except in the case of a dialogue, what people think trumps what they say. For example, if during an invocation, I say: “Lioness!" and I think of the woman named Mjoll the Lioness, who will appear? By the way, Mjoll is Voice Master Zena's best friend. I know her because I retrieved her enchanted malachite sword.

At the College of Winterhold, we have a place where students can create books to conjure atronachs, using certain ingredients, including minerals. For a long time, I thought that the property of the mineral was the only information used to summon these books: for example, an abrasive corundum will summon a book to conjure a fire atronach. Recently, a student discovered that amber was one of the ingredients to create a book to summon a random humanoid daedra, called the Saint. When I used a Sheogorath-shaped amber at the Forge of Atronach, it summoned a Saint I have already met named Staada. She was looking for this Sheogorath-shaped amber, but I decided to keep it. I guess an invisible link has been created between this object and Staada. Like the name Palla and the monster.

I explain these results with my theory of TransNature: during an invocation, the summoner dialogues with a plane of symbols, called the TransNature. I represent this plane as a translator who interprets the symbols sent during the invocation. Regardless of what the summoner thinks (this item is now mine or this woman should be named / looked that way), the TransNature will take the correct creature from another plane and return it to Nirn. TransNature stands for "Translation of Nature" which considers the ingredient (amber) and its contextual meaning (wanted by Staada).

What do you think of my theory ? Do you already know it by another name? At first I thought of calling it the Source of Codes, but I ended up choosing TransNature. We can discuss this topic at our next meeting, and if you want, I will summon the Saint. In the meantime, I wish you a Happy Saturalia and a Happy New Year.

Your friend,

Azerty.

I woke up on this frozen island, not knowing why I came there and what I was expecting to find. As I walked out of the captain's office, I felt a familiar spirit due to this architecture style with vaulted ceilings and inclined rooftops made on woods and stones. I was back in Skyrim, the first province I visited in Tamriel.

Contemplating this countryside, I was expecting to find farmers of snowberries, ingredient that growth well on the low temperature in the north of Skyrim. Instead, the farmers chose cattle breeding. When I asked why there were no culture in Bleakrock, someone answers that the soil was not suitable for agriculture. They prefer to trade the surplus meat for wheat in the Windhelm markets. I suppose that eating meat with bread give quicker satiety than small snowberries.

Bleakrock being a garrison for the Ebonheart Pact, the effort is directed towards keeping soldiers there to watch out for pirates and raiders. If their presence is highly valuable, the effort made by the farmers and fisherfolks seems as important as theirs. To watch them taking care of their livestock, hunting terrible creatures, and catching giant fishes, is like witnessing a daily war. It takes courage and perseverance to prefer to tame this environmental hostility rather than choose theft, murder, or any other form of unwarranted violence. For this reason, I call them the warfarmers of Bleakrock.

As I wrote this text, Bleakrock is threatened. Not by raiders or pirates, but a lack of labors. The young generation are leaving to find work in the other cities, expecting different living condition. I won’t affirm that the absence of a tavern is the main reason of their departure, but having a dedicated place with a pit fire where farmers and soldiers can drink mead will increase the morale of the troops. Moreover, the election of a warfarmer general who will be responsible for coordinating their effort through cooperation, can reduce the fallout made by the “deserters”.

These are few thoughts that came to me when I was walking around Bleakrock. I continue my trip to another location.

This text was written by a scholar of the mage's guild during the second Era in Tamriel.

Leo is still in Stros M'Kai, looking for something to do

Leo wants to be changed into a mudcrab so that his fights against other mudcrabs are more challenging

Leo loves Haraddal's music because it sounds great with the rustle of water from a fountain

Leo found Dwemer artifacts while he was searching for treasure

Leo would rather use Dwemer artifacts to find treasure than counting his footsteps alone in a desert

Leo meets Dugroth who needs help killing a monster and getting his sword back

Leo is happy because Dugroth said he doesn't like using violence to send a message

Leo is unhappy because Dugroth considers himself a nonviolent killer

Leo agrees to kill to find Dugroth's sword

Leo advises Dugroth to forge weapons because Dugroth is violent

Leo advises Dugroth not to listen to his mother because she wants him to be violent

"I will tell you once again: this product is not worth 50 septims!"

The Stormcloak blacksmith was beginning to lose patience. This negotiation had lasted long enough, but he could not leave his best supplier on a disagreement. The Civil War had reduced their supplies, so they must take all useful goods, even sold by a wanted thief in all cities of Skyrim.

This time she had arrived with a large quantity of drums and flutes, musical instruments that would interest their bards. On the other hand, the blacksmith refused to buy for 50 septims this thing which he did not know and which they certainly did not need.

"It's the law of supply and demand, Gray Fox. The price of your product does not depend on you, but on the needs of the market. And I doubt anyone needs this thing. "

The blacksmith examined the object again and continued:

"Because we're friends, I'm willing to give you 10 septims for the time you spent stealing this."

The thief shook her head in disapproval. She had been tenacious in negotiations, and her selling points skillfully blurred the difference between her customer's needs and desires. The blacksmith believed he was used to all her sales techniques. He was wrong.

The Gray Fox replied:

“Any purchase is an approval from the customer to his seller. By purchasing this rare commodity at a decent price, you are more than supporting my efforts, you are encouraging me to repeat what I have done to obtain this product. "

The blacksmith, intrigued, asked her:

“What did you do to get this?

The Gray Fox replied:

"Do you see this fort nearby? Well, it's full of forsworn, our common enemies. All the drums and flutes you bought were inside this fort. I think they plan a party for ... "

The blacksmith could not help but share his hateful convictions:

"Definitely, one of those b*tches! A Vampire Cannibal Hagravens. I hate them! "

Gray Fox smirked, satisfied with the intonation of her customer. She continued in a neutral voice:

"On the top floor, their leader was sitting in front of an altar. I noticed the object attached to his chest. I quietly approached and took it. He fell dead. It was his heart; I stole his heart. "

The thief pointed to the Briar Heart on the table. As she expected, the blacksmith's face now expressed another feeling: admiration. Gray Fox continued her argument:

“His heart was visible through his chest, and I managed to pull it out. My goal was not to kill, but to steal. If I had known it was vital for him, I probably wouldn't have. "

The blacksmith asked the thief:

"Why should I buy this Briar Heart at 50 septims? I'm not an alchemist or…”

Gray Fox interrupted him:

“Briar Heart Collector? While stealing this heart, I killed a rebel leader. I did your army a service.”

The blacksmith added:

"Besides, our commander would give more money for the death of this rebel leader."

Gray Fox said:

“If some prices follow the law of supply and demand, all purchases follow the law of heart. "

The blacksmith bought the goods at 55 septims, satisfying the mistress of illusion. A few days later, when the blacksmith showed it to an alchemist, the latter testified that it was not a Briar Heart, but a Heart Stone painted in red.

Whether you want to eat some cooked nix-hound meat or need a shock absorber when jumping from high mountains or searching for the materials to craft light armors, hunting a herd can be inevitable. Thus, it is essential to have the proper equipment to deal with all these wild creatures at the same time. Luckily, the Harbinger’s Advice store has the product you need: The Herd Hunter.

The Herd Hunter is a set of armors and weapons made entirely with ebonite, an ore resulting from a 100% natural vulcanization. The Herd Hunter includes:

· Anti-Bleeding Armor: Simulating the function of an enzyme-emitting coagulator, this enchantment promotes hemostasis by forming a clot to seal and stem wounds.

· Psychoptic Helmet: This enchantment increases the number of photoreceptor cells from one layer to four, improving the vision when using a bow.

· Vampiretooth War Ax: This weapon acts directly on the creature's neural system, exciting its neural circuits to elicit a sense of fear that scares it away.

· Thermoderegulator Bow: This ebonite bow causes hypothermia by disrupting the thermoregulatory mechanism of the targets.

· Shockproof Shield (recommended for netch hunters): Netches are notorious for their shock damage attacks. The enchantment of this ebonite shield works as an electrical insulator, like dry wood.

DIRECTION: Hit the creatures with the Vampiretooth War Ax to disperse the herd. Thanks to the Psychoptic Helmet and Thermoderegulator Bow, kill as many creatures as you can. When the fear effect has worn off, repeat the previous steps until you have collected the number of products you need.

CAUTION: We recommend that you use ebonite arrows, as they inflict more damage compared to other types of arrows, which will greatly reduce the energy consumption of the bow. Plan some soul gems to reload the weapons. The Anti-Bleeding Armor does not make you invincible. It works best out of combat when the herd is dispersed. If the Vampiretooth War Ax doesn't work on some creatures, give up and look for other targets.

PRICE: Each component is sold separately at a unit price of 2,500 septims.

Avanchnzel, Skyrim, Loredas 13 Evening Star 4 e 203.

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. I am writing this letter from an archaeological excavation at Avanchnzel, a Dwemer ruin near Riften. The mercenary and my rieklin managed to deactivate all remaining automatons and traps, so our study is going smoothly. According to the Calcemo’s Stone, Avanchn-zel means “City of Eternity”. Based on this translation, I assumed that Avanchnzel was a Hall of Dead, where Dwemers transferred people inside a lexicon before their actual death in Nirn. Therefore, this lexicon, placed on a receptacle in the main room of Avanchzel, contains a realm where Dwemers live forever. Amazing!

Although I would like to settle for this conclusion, my observations on site give more details.

First, the lexicon was managed by 4 representatives and no one else had access to it. Workers in charge of infrastructure maintenance must apply for permission or risk their lives. I noticed 4 circles, like landing points, outside the building. I assumed that the lexicon was used during a ceremony where the presence of the representatives was mandatory. In my opinion, the topics were the following: should we immortalize this person? Should we give him access to the lexicon? I noticed that there is a waiting room next to the meeting room, as if people are waiting for their decision.

Second, Avanchnzel's infrastructure can record people. I experienced it the first time I entered the building, before putting the lexicon in the receptacle. The recorded persons appear as holograms. They talk and people listen.

Based on these observations, Avanchnzel was more likely a place where the scholars came to be immortalized. Like a memory stone, the lexicon contains the recording of engineers, miners, astrologers, and traders, teaching their knowledge as holograms. I called them the immortal teachers of the Dwemer society. In this case, Avanchn-zel can also mean "the eternal city", keeping secret techniques to create a Dwemer city. Why was it important? Because for some subjects, it can be better to demonstrate than to describe and writings can be more easily shared than a lexicon that works in one place. In fact, those subjects were forbidden to be told in public, written in a book or reproducible by an automaton. For the Dwemers, the Underground City is designed for their survival, and a layman entering the sanctuary of Avanchnzel was condemned to death, according to the book Antecedents of the Dwemer Law.

Currently, the lexicon is on a receptacle and there is no projection. The infrastructure needs to be repaired. Hope you enjoyed reading all my assumptions like Climate Architect, Draugrlogy or Avanchnzel because for me it is a pleasure to share them with you.

Your friend,

Azerty

Leo is living in Tamriel during the second Era

Leo is a khajiit but is it important?

Leo is a khajiit so he walks slowly in the desert of Stros M Kai, as if he lived there

Leo likes the architecture of buildings because it looks sharp

Leo is tired of hitting Dwemer automatons with arrows to find a secret

Leo wears a pirate's clothes to make people think he's a pirate

Leo infiltrates a pirate camp to free prisoners

Leo is not alone because the guards have already been killed by other people

Leo frees the prisoners and discovers the pirate captain has been poisoned

Leo saves the captain's life because Leo is a killer, not a cold blooded killer

Leo spoke with the captain of the prisoners who poisoned the captain of the pirates

Leo can't call them prisoners anymore because they weren't always prisoners

Leo should go save someone inside the prison called the Tomb

Whiterun, Skyrim, Loredas 22 Sun’s Dusk 4 e 203.

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. For my part, I am shocked by the two recent events that I have experienced in Skyrim. I want to let you know through the words in this letter.

First, there was a strumbago.

This is the name given to a deadly quarterly storm, which hits powerful bolts of lightning on anyone outside a shelter. During this storm, we can often hear a hollow voice shouting "Strumbago!" ". We do not know what this means and who is behind it. Some rumors claim that it is a witch who throws this cyclone to take as many souls as possible, so she can remain eternally young. Fortunately, I managed to shelter in a tavern of Whiterun until this storm was over.

Second, I escaped a robbery.

The attack happened on the way from the Harbinger’s Advice store. I went there to buy an Ice Fire for my son. It is a wooden sword with an enchantment of fire and ice. Children love this model because it reminds them of Dawnfang, the blade of the famous spellsword Peterus. I do not know how to handle the sword; in which case I would have used it against this thief armed with a knife. He certainly noticed that I was easy prey without a riekling, a mercenary or any hold guard nearby. I was scared, my hands were cold. What to do?

I noticed a chicken by the side of the road. Without hesitation, I twisted its neck and I read one of my emergency scrolls. In an instant, the fowl was on its feet again, slowly staggering towards the thief. The latter burst out laughing, mocking my secret weapon. When the chicken was close enough, he hit the animal with his foot, which triggered a powerful explosion of ice. He was thrown and paralyzed by frost. I took this opportunity to run away. Thanks to Ahzidal’s necromancy ring I wore, an ice blast effect has been added. It wasn't just a chicken; it was a kamikaze frosted chicken, a KFC. Hope he enjoys the chicken breast!

It was a pleasure to take a moment to write this letter. I'm leaving for Markarth to make sure the boys are alright. There is a noblewoman who has just entered the tavern with a fox and a jester. The latter tells jokes, makes faces and dances. It warms the atmosphere after this terrible storm. When you come to Skyrim, I'll ask the Lake Lady to lend her jester. Until then, I hope to hear from you soon.

Your friend,

Azerty.

5: 22 AM

The demon enjoyed the warmth inside the basement. The forge flames in the center of the room cast the shadows of the objects, drawing strange figures and symbols on the walls. The demon had come to do business. He was amazed by the treasures present in this room. The human had done an excellent job, both the quantity of the stolen goods and the quality of the modifications made to erase all traces linking them to their previous owners. The buyer placed 2000 pieces of gold on a table and the seller gave him goods of equivalent value. With his bag full of weapons, armors, cooking utensils and alchemical ingredients, the satisfied demon left for Oblivion.

7: 17 AM

The morning breeze made Rayya shiver. As a housecarl, her main mission was to protect the Thane, including while swimming in the lake. Rayya watched her from the shore. The reflections of light on the surface of the water did not facilitate her task. According to the Thane, those silvery twinkles were the stars that had set on this blue blanket during the day. Rayya also appreciated these moments of relaxation by the lake, which everyone had access to, but few took the time to enjoy.

9: 23 AM

Wilhelm was helping the carriage driver unload supplies from the vehicle. Every morning, he received a delivery from the inn: vegetables and raw meats for his wife, as well as pastries for their children. His family's dietary whims demanded regular replenishment. Although he no longer lives and works at the inn, he still owns it. He was sure his wife had married him for this reason. Indeed, home delivery was a luxury that only an innkeeper wife could enjoy. In return, he had a peaceful retirement in a mansion, with caring servants and a loving family.

11: 41 AM

Taste is an art. Eola had memorized this phrase from the housewife. As the steward, she is responsible of the management of the homestead, as well as the preparation of meals. While children enjoyed sweets for breakfast, the housewife demanded that the food arrangements in her meal be tasteful. That day, Eola served bread, butter, cheese, and leeks, along with wine. The housewife enjoyed the taste of this meal.

1: 37 PM

Runa put the basket of flowers by the pond. Like her brother and mother, she began to scatter petals at the bottom of the basin. She loved this creative activity they have after lunch. The floral carpet was beginning to take shape: the red of the snowberries, mingled with the pink and blue of the mountain flowers. In addition to the flowers that grew in the garden, her mother had bought exotic specimens from khajiit merchants. The fragrance emanating from the composition was sublime. At the end of the game, the mother and her children took the time to appreciate their work, above which the small fishes of the pond fluttered, obviously happy with the changes made to their home.

3 : 05 PM

Angi enjoyed the company of the Lake Lady. When she visited, they would discuss the latest gossip and practice archery together. Hunting for rabbits and fishing for slaughterfish with a bow were two activities that the Lake Lady practiced regularly, and she never missed an opportunity to recount her exploits. Considering the targets speed of movement and their size, accurate shooting was essential for success. Her skill had improved since their first meeting, as the quality of her equipment. Angi especially admired her bow, called the Glass Bow of the Stag Prince. She asked her where she had bought this masterpiece. The Lake Lady replied that it was a secret, with a knowing smile.

5: 51 PM

Llewellyn the Nightingale played the flute, the noblewoman’s favorite instrument. The trees around seemed to dance for her, to the effect of the wind and the melody. Dressed in the emperor's robes, a white veil and wedding sandals, she watched the sunset from the balcony. When her son ​​accompanied her in this contemplation, they were distracted by the pareidolia of the clouds, sometimes distinguishing animals, figures, or beings drawn from the boy's imaginary language. The Nightingale was in admiration: the noblewoman had created a place where their sweetest dreams come true. Through hard work and perseverance, this mistress of illusion had succeeded in building this haven of peace in which happiness was the only certainty. As she liked to repeat to her children:

“Nightmares cannot survive in Lakeview."

PART 3

The clan of Mor Khazgur loved the story of Barok. Since his return from Dragon Bridge, he recounted what happened, adding new details or exaggerating some facts. But the morality remains the same: Peterus is a hero. As Barok imitated the spellsword for the umpteenth time with a wooden sword, his grandfather slapped a painless blow on his wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. The surprised look of Barok amused his audience.

​

PART 2

That night, the two fighters met on the bridge, under the moonlight. The opponent wore an elegant steel armor and held a sword with a fire enchantment. Opposite, the legate was dressed in dwarven armor. He approached the boy and knelt on the ground: "Can you please give me your sword? ". The boy was as surprised as the people present during this duel: the legate wanted to fight with his wooden sword. The boy gave it to him. The legate returned to the bridge.

The adversary attacked the legate with his blade, but the latter avoided the blow. The fight went on like this for a moment: one hitting and the other dodging. The adversary could not reach the legate. When he attempted a power attack, the legate slapped a painless blow on his wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. The boy was amazed. It was better than Azerty's books. It was better than he could have imagined.

The legate picked up the sword. Moving like a whirlwind, he struck with both weapons, the effects of enchantment igniting his opponent. Unable to endure this suffering any longer, he admitted defeat.

​

PART 1

The young orc was running towards the Four Shields. When his brother had returned to the Orc Stronghold and told him that his hero was currently staying at this tavern, he left immediately. He had read many stories about this veteran's achievement, so he had become a fan of him.

An imperial seated at a table matched his hero's descriptions. The young orc greeted him. The imperial replied: "Stay away from me, the pig children." The orc was surprised by these hateful words. He never imagined that his hero would be racist.

The army accepted everyone. His orc uncle had fought there for several years. In the biographies of his idol, the authors never mentioned the race of the characters. It was a mistake.

"Do you want more insults, the cursed? Get out!"

The young orc came out with tears. He did not want to go back to the Orc Stronghold and tell this story. He was ashamed of it. Ashamed for valuing the exploits of a man who considered them so bad. He glanced over at the inn door, hoping the veteran would come out and apologize. He waited until he heard a gears sound mingling with the birds song.

The young orc instinctively understood the truth. The imperial, riding a mechanical horse, was his true hero. They greeted each other. The child told him what happened. Indeed, the two imperials looked like two drops of water and one took advantage of the legend. They decided to settle this quarrel in a duel.

Solitude, Skyrim, Loredas 18 Frost Fall 4 e 203.

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. For my part, I am officially the Games of Thu’um's champion at the Bards College. I defeated all the students and teachers during a contest we organized yesterday. In my opinion, they need to practice, so that they develop an intuition on when to draw a card. Thus, they have a better chance of getting the right inspiration depending on the situation. Quite an art.

When I arrived in Skyrim two years ago, my dream was to become a famous bard. I was not interested in the Civil War, nor in the defeat of the dragons. My goal was in line with the requirements made by the headmaster: “Good tales deal with the issues of the day, but a wise bard remains a neutral observer.” Indeed, Skyrim is a living book filled with doors to the imaginary. I should find the keys to get on board.

My first study was at Dead Men's Respite. The headmaster sent me to retrieve the King Olaf’s Verse, which is part of the Poetic Edda. For two months, I worked as a postman to gain enough money for this expedition. Then, I hired a mercenary. We left together with tone of potions, magical staves, and others useful supplies. Nevertheless, we expected to encounter few dangers because, after all, the dead are dead. Although this sentence is true, its meaning was about to change during our exploration of the Dead Men's Respite.

At the entrance, there is a room where several corpses are buried, with a table in the center. I suppose that the people of Skyrim placed offerings on this altar. Even though those corpses became skeletons, their relatives believed in their existence after death. Unfortunately, there is no inscription with their names. I would have liked to pronounce them.

After this first burial chamber, we discovered a room filled with draugrs. Those creatures, who spoke in dragon language, refused any discussion. They preferred violence. For a long time, I believed they were all tomb keepers. But my recent discoveries lead me to consider some of them as devotees of dragon cult, awaiting a resurrection. This hypothesis supposed that some dragon priests have the knowledge to revive the dead and revitalize the corpses so that they can live indefinitely. An idea like reincarnation, except that it is done in the same body.

Moreover, draugrs seems to keep their cognitive faculties such as language, reasoning, and memory. This assumption helped me to explain what I discovered in the last chamber: King Olaf's burial room with draugrs sitting on thrones around the oval middle. In my opinion, King Olaf was not waiting for a resurrection like a dragon cult adept. He believed in Sovngarde, but he probably wished to talk with his successors after death. So, he and his advisers became a council of draugrs. Amazing!

Here is my hypothesis: some draugrs were created to tell stories, like bards. This solution was better than having a book written by Olaf, because he could answer questions and give details, depending on the audience. Unfortunately, several generations later, this tradition has been lost.

Are you wondering if I have finally found King Olaf's Verse? Yes, I did. As the headmaster predicted, the book was in the Dead Men’s Respite, next to Svaknir's ghost, the author of this poem. His animosity for Olaf was so strong, that he waited centuries in the tomb. The revenge of Svaknir’s ghost consisted in destroying Olaf's draugr, because the king had erased several parts of his writings.

By the way, Olaf could have turned into ghost, but maybe, he did not master this emotional force which allows a spirit to return to Mundus at will. I've also heard rumors of a voice master living in Windhelm, named Zena, who used words of power to summon the ghost of warriors from Sovngarde. She can probably summon Svaknir and Olaf, so we will have their version on the Numinex fight, as requested by my colleague Adonato Leotelli.

I can continue to write about my theories on several pages. For example, my method of recognizing if a draugr has been cursed, thanks to the ghost’s appearance. But, in my opinion, the best solution is for you to come here, so that we can talk about this topic. I called it “the draugrlogy”, the study of the draugrs. For the moment, I have another urgent problem to solve: defeating all those bards begging for revenge in Games of Thu’um.

Your friend,

Azerty.

" …The guy was scared. His attention was now focused on the hammer I was holding. I said to him one last time: would you give this mine to the Silver-Blood family or do you want to spend more time in a futile discussion? When I left the property, he was packing his bags. Then I met you on the road. "

Freyda liked to talk about her contracts, preferably ones where she intimidated people.

"Why don't you kill the guy and make the murder look like an accident?" asked the other mercenary, sitting by the campfire.

Freyda: Nah, that wouldn't have been fun. I prefered to look at his frightened face.

Freyda briefly imitated the facial expression of a scared person.

Freyda: I was powerful, he was powerless. I feed off this moment. Moreover, I am not very imaginative during my killing. Three blows with my hammer are sufficient to kill anyone. What about you, my friend? Are you an artist of the killing during your contract?

The other mercenary nodded in approval. She looked young, frail and inexperienced, Freyda thought. How can such a person be a slaughterer? She preferred not asking further details because it would either be annoying or a lie. They both decided to sleep.

When Freyda woke up the next morning, the mercenary has already left. She did not ask her name. It was unnecessary because she did not expect to meet her again. But something was missing. What is…. the hammer?! She stole her hammer! The b***! She was probably not a killer but certainly a theft!

Freyda was furious. She easily placed her trust in strangers. Conversely, if they were dishonest, the punishment would be deadly. She ran towards the nearest tavern. There, she met a woman, a boy, a ghost, and a bard. She asked them if they saw a mercenary or a theft. They could not help her. She had to break those words out and give more information about the person she was looking for. Freyda had misery to give a precise description of the stranger. But when she mentioned the hammer, the bard told her that a person with a hammer was sitting near the shrine of Dibella. Freyda ran to the place. Arrived there, she found a feather and her hammer, but the weapon has been broken.

Few hours later, Freyda was drinking a beer at the Silver-Blood inn. She gave her hammer to Ghorza the blacksmith for repair. She would have to wait another two hours before picking up her weapon. Looking across the room, she noticed a feather moving across a table. In fact, a young girl was writing vigorously on a paper. Freyda approached next to the writer and read briefly the text. It was written: “…she went pacing…”. That was a good idea: go pacing until the blacksmith finished fixing the hammer.

Freyda hummed the song Ragnar the Red while walking on the streets of the city. When she arrived next to the Hag's cure, a voice cut through the air.

Mysterious Voice: Hey you! Come here!

Freyda: Who is talking?

Freyda looked at the door of the Hag’s cure and she noticed a small spider fluttering in the air. How could a talking spider stay suspended in the air without any web to support it?

Freyda: Where is your web?

Spiderwoman: My web…is invisible. But if you get close, you will find out.

Freyda slowly approached the spider. There was no danger. If necessary, she could crush…

The dark brotherhood initiate, masked by an invisibility spell, suddenly appeared. She threw the spider she was holding on Freyda. The Mind Control Spider gripped her neck fiercely. Freyda had lost all control of her movements. She started to hit furiously everybody nearby including Ghorza and the hold guards. She wanted to stop but her body did not listen to her mind anymore.

The Mind Control Spider was powerful, Freyda was powerless.

Disarmed, she had no chance against her opponents. Before Ghorza killed her with the repaired hammer, Freyda understood everything: the mercenary, the theft, the bard, the writer, and the Spiderwoman were the same person. Unfortunately, Freyda never remembered faces, just names. The Spiderwoman knew it since the beginning and her invisible web was the script for Freyda's death.

When all ended, the ghost welcomed Freyda with those words: "There is no pain in the Void."

The Harbinger's Advice is the name of Ulk's store. Below is the description of the products he sells.

The Soul Fetch bow

Do you try to teach Fetch to your dog, but it never brings back the ball? Does it only want to go hunt animals? The Harbinger's Advice has a solution for you: The Soul Fetch bow!

This bow is enchanted with two effects: paralysis and soul trap. The paralysis effect keeps fast animals from running away and dangerous ones from hurting your companion. Thanks to the soul trap effect, your dog will fulfill a soul gem by killing the prey. Then, you can use it to recharge your toy. An unending fun*!

We have several models in shop, crafted with different materials. You can also choose the duration of the soul trap and the paralysis effect, depending on the damage of your arrows. Enjoy hours of distraction with your pet! Come to The Harbinger's Advice and buy a Soul Fetch bow today!

The Soul Fetch Bow is sponsored by Cedran, the seller of war dogs at the Markarth Stables.

* We recommend buying soul gems at Borgakh’s jumble.

The Daedric Man Outfit

Many have heard the news of travelers kidnapped by bandits on the roads near Solitude, but few know how this problem was solved. Well, I am happy to report that the answer is on a shelf of the Harbinger's Advice. It is called the Daedric Man Outfit.

This armor is a marvel: a heavy daedric chest enchanted to fortify health and healing rate, coupled with painted netch leather boots, enchanted to fortify two-handed and resist frost. The dragonscale helmet increases the armor rating, which also looks awesome with a daedric chest. Using this outfit with the Fire of the Daedra Vampire (an enchanted Daedric Warhammer to absorb health and deal fire damage) make any warrior invincible!

Therefore, the only question is: will you have enough septims to buy your future victory?

The Ice Wraith Exterminator Pack

Unfortunately, a home can be invaded by all kinds of critters like mudcrab and skeevers. But nothing is more annoying than having a snake spinning in the air, at the middle of the dining room, and whose bites can cool the blood. To resolve this recurrent issue, we recommend you buy the Ice Wraith Exterminator. This pack contains:

· Light armor pieces made of different materials such as leather, netch leather and chitin plate, all enchanted to fortify your blows and your stamina,

· One dwarven dagger that absorbs stamina and causes fire damage,

· A necklace and a ring granting immunity to ice damage.

So, don't hide in the bedroom while waiting for a companion to wipe out the creature. Come to the Harbinger's Advice and buy the Ice Wraith Exterminator Pack today!

Note: With every purchase, we give a backpack and the book Herbane's Bestiary: Ice Wraiths, for free!

This text was written by a bard traveling with the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar, after being ambushed by bandits between Helgen and Ivarstead.

​

Guided by the wind mystery,

The Child of the Sky went to meditate,

When wickedness, strengthened with darkness,

Barged in her way to the monastery.

​

Guided by the bloodthirsty,

The Band of the Evil wished to decimate,

A cute bard, playing the flute,

An armored troll, but still in nudity.

​

The Storm Voice guided them to her word’s reality,

Shining her thousand lights in the wyrm ethereal outfit,

Bleeding the dozen brutes to death mercilessly.

​

‘Zoor’ and ‘Toor’ mingled their meanings,

Creating in their mind ‘Horror’ and ‘Terror’,

The last sounds heard by their blasted souls walking beyond.

1

The spellsword Peterus was on his mechanical horse, returning home. On that cold Fredas afternoon, the white snowflakes were falling on his yellow dwarven armor. This outfit was designed to be worn underground, where temperatures are much higher than Hjaalmarch’s, so he was frozen to death. At 3 pm, his sword Dawnfang still inflicted fire damages. But soon, at nightfall, it would change into Duskfang, inflicting ice damages. To get home, he could take two paths: go through the labyrinth, where he had already killed three trolls a few hours ago or continue towards Stonehills and make sure this road is also safe.

Go through the labyrinth (2)

Continue to Stonehills (3)

2

!As he predicted, there was no living souls in the labyrinth. Normally, the trolls of Skyrim like to meet at these ruins. It will be a few weeks before a new group respawn there. The day before, Peterus was sent by the jarl to kill a dragon in the labyrinth. Before fighting the dragon, he encountered three trolls. He decided to use exploding bolts of fire with a crossbow to defeat them. His plan was simple: the trolls aren’t known to be fast, so Peterus decided to use their weakness to his advantage. Mounted on horseback, he fired flaming projectiles to the frost monsters, moving at the same speed as them, to maintain distance between them. The victory was easy, but the cost was high: he must buy expensive fire salts to make new bolts. THE END.!<

3

!Peterus continued to Stonehills. Arrived at the mining community, he stopped to warm up by the campfire. There was nobody, people were still working in the mine. One hour later, he resumed his way towards his house. Suddenly, a frost troll appeared, growling.!<

!Stay on the horse and use Dawnfang (4)!<

!Get off the horse, use a shield and a fire spell (6)!<

4

!Peterus rushed forward with his sword raised and struck. The troll, particularly sensitive to fire, lost a lot of health. The beast was swinging its arms in the air, desperately trying to reach the rider. But what had to happen, happened. Dawnfang transformed into Duskfang, fire damage changed to ice damage. It was nightfall. For a moment, Peterus felt like the monster was chuckling, happy to slowly regain its health because the troll is more resistant to ice damages. Peterus noticed a tree trunk beside the road.!<

!Turn in circle around the tree trunk and hit the troll with Duskfang (5)!<

!Get off the horse, use a shield and a fire spell (6)!<

5

!Peterus pulled the troll near the tree trunk, then he started to speed up. He circled around the tree, hitting its target in the back at regular intervals. The troll looked confused as he saw the mechanical creature running in front, then punching him in the back. The troll has started to lose health again. The spellsword had an ambitious plan: the speed of the mechanical horse should be greater than how quickly a troll regains health. Peterus felt the air warm, as if the tree were generating invisible fire. After an hour in this whirlwind, the troll was defeated. Peterus resumed his way to his house, with dizziness. THE END.!<

6

!Peterus got off the horse and he took the Shield of Solitude. He was a few miles away from his opponent, the shield on his left hand and a fire spell on his right hand. He was aware that his shield would partially block the damage from the troll's attacks. His plan was simple: keep a distance of a few yards between himself and the frosty creature, forcing it to perform power attacks. Using his quick reflexes, Peterus dodged the blows at the last moment and sprayed his target with fire. For one hour, the spellsword and the troll danced on the snowy road. Finally, the injured troll knelt. Peterus finished it off with his shield. Peterus mounted his horse and continued his way home. THE END.!<

Riften, Skyrim, Loredas 8 Sun's Height 4 e 203

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. I sent you a letter few weeks ago to this address. Sadly, I did not receive a reply. I would have liked to read your opinion on the profession of climate architect. History and Stories of Tamriel are my passion, it is the reason why I chose to become an archeologist and a scholar, to explore this map of imaginary that is Skyrim. My only concern is having enough supplies and support to go where I want to conduct my study. That means food, scrolls, books, and mercenaries. My salary as a teaching assistant is not high, so the budget allocated for exploration is limited. Therefore, the choices I made during preparation are crucial for the success of my enterprise. However, Providence can be beneficial.

For example, last week, my objective was to explore a location named Arcwind Point. A greybeard revealed that a word wall, in other word, a historical document was there. I supposed that some draugrs or a dragon guarded this place. First, I created several scrolls at the Atronach Forge. Then, I bought some jewelries which I enchanted to fortify destruction, magicka and restoration. I gave them to a mage I frequently hire to explore ancient Nordic tombs because he knows spells to turn undead. Arrived nearly the location, we heard the shout of a dragon. I stopped my team, made up of a goat, a mage and a riekling. I read a scroll of calls to arms to motivate them. When we finally arrived at Arcwind Point, the location was also filled with draugrs. We were surprised to discover that the draugrs was fighting against the dragon. It was intriguing, because most of the time, they are allied. The last time I saw a dragon fought against draugrs was at the place where the first dragonborn started his word of power’s learning. Thus, Arcwind Point could also be a school where people came to learn words of power to fight against the dragons.

I advised my team to wait until the end of their combat. The dragon won but he was seriously injured. The mage killed him easily. When I finally discovered the word of power at Arcwind Point, I was surprised: the intention was the same as another nearby! In fact, there is a dragon lair named Autumnwatch Tower, with a word wall, few miles from Arcwind Point. Both word walls teach to drain vitality, but with different wordings and effects. It was like witnessing the feud between two schools, one run by dragons and the other run by servants of Kyne. Amazing!

At the top of the mountain, I found a pedestal with a book. I imagine that a servant of Kyne went to this place to find inspiration. So, while the tonal architects forged artifacts underground, the servants of Kyne created new words of power in the sky. The main difference is that, even thousands of years later, we can find the tools and materials used to craft the artifacts, but, in the case of the word of power, I couldn't find anything other than a book.

I send the book with this letter. I had already found another copy at the temple of Kynareth. I also join a note explaining the rules of a card game that I play with my children. We call it “Games of Thu’um”.

By the way, I have a second home in Riften. It is quite comfortable. It will be a pleasure to welcome you and show you around the Rift. Until then, you can reply to this address.

Your friend,

Azerty

NOTE – GAMES OF THU’UM

At the start of the game, each player has 100 points. The main objective is to reduce the points of the opponent to zero.

There are 52 cards and each card has a power.

- Fire Breath: -10 points to the opponent, 10 cards

- Frost Breath: -10 points to the opponent, 10 cards

- Drain Vitality: -10 points to the opponent, +10 points to the player, 10 cards

- Unrelenting Force: -20 points to the opponent, 5 cards

- Marked for Death: Multiplied by 2 the next attack, 5 cards

- Become Ethereal: Cancel the effect of any attack, 5 cards

- Aura Whisper: The opponent shows all his/her card, 5 cards

- Dragon Aspect: Allow to play three cards at once, 2 cards

Each player always has maximum 9 cards and minimum 3 cards. They draw a card whenever they want and they take turns playing.

Ulk sat on the wooden chair by the fire pit with a pen and paper. His inventory completed; he would write equations to maximize his profit based on the smithing ingredients. Borgakh patted him on the shoulder.

Their wedding anniversary was a week away and she wished to give him the Angarvunde treasure as a gift. Legend told that a precious chest was kept in the main room of this temple guarded by draugrs, and no adventurer had so far managed to reach it. She asked her husband to craft a weapon for this occasion. Ulk forged an ebonite war axe to which he added fire damage, effective against the undead. Satisfied, Borgakh left for Angarvunde accompanied by their two dogs, Meeko and Barbas.

A few days later, she returned wounded and riddled with orc arrows. Barbas told Ulk that the draugrs of Angarvunde were skillful archers and they used words of power to disarm their opponents who, for some reason, could no longer retrieve their fallen weapon. As soon as the fight started, Borgakh lost her ebony war axe, which she replaced with her long bow and iron arrows. For another reason to discover, the undead could not disarm this bow. However, the confrontation was brief, because the draugrs had the advantage in numbers and Borgakh shots inflicted little damage.

Ulk brought his wife to the Temple of Kynareth for treatment. He asked her to stop this quest, reminding that no one had found the secret of Angarvunde. This reason motivated her. The achievement would add value to her gift. Noticing that he could not convince her, Ulk decided to forge three ebony war axes, enchanted with fire damage. The next day, Borgakh recovered from her injuries and left with the three weapons and their two dogs.

Ulk, Borgakh, Barbas and probably Meeko were convinced that the draugrs were not going to disarm her twice. Why? Maybe because they considered it as a feat. Well, that's what happened: the draugrs disarmed Borgakh three times!

A few days later, she returned seriously injured and riddled with orc arrows. Her husband took her to the Temple of Kynareth for treatment. Barbas told him a story like their first attempt. They had failed to reach the main room containing the treasure; however, they had found the book " The Wraith's Wedding Dowry ". Inspired by this story, Ulk forged a gift for his wife.

Borgakh recovered from his injuries the day before their wedding anniversary. She absolutely had to go back to Angarvunde, exterminate the draugrs and find the treasure. Ulk had gone to sell his goods to Riverwood, but he had left her a note, dragonbone arrows, a ring, and a necklace. Borgakh appreciated these presents, especially the dragonbone arrows that dealt three times more damage than the iron ones. Normally, the draugrs would not disarm her long bow.

Borgakh took pleasure in killing all the undead of Angarvunde. Her training had paid off. The arrows dealed a lot of damage, but her shooting accuracy was incredible. When this feat was over, she entered the main room where the treasure chest was kept. Unfortunately, it was empty. Borgakh was furious but she consoled herself by thinking that she was the first person to arrive in the main room. Malacath and Ulk would be proud of this story! While she was leaving the temple, she did not notice that her husband's note fell from her pocket.

A few hours later, Lockey arrived at her training ground. Whenever she wanted to improve her stealth skills, she came to Angarvunde. The treasure had probably been stolen years ago by a nightingale, but the draugr guardians had been left alive, much to the delight of the Thieves Guild. So, she was surprised when she discovered the massacre. In the middle of the inanimate corpses, she found a note on which it was written:

“Jewels have an enchantment to fortify sneak. Like Kepkajna, you can try to recover the treasure while avoiding confrontation. Otherwise, you can defeat them with dragonbone arrows. The choice is yours!

Have fun,

Ulk. "

If the coronation was festive for the nobility, the wedding was the commoners festivity. The weather was warm enough that we could open the doors to the cathedral and let everyone who wanted to see the ceremony. It was somewhat awkward, having the High King of Skyrim walk the Empress of Cyrodiil to her spouse. However, somehow we survived as Rigmor and her mother followed us. The ceremony and rings were beautiful, as Rigmor had never seen the ring she sent me after. Worth the trip. She in turn gave me her fathers' wedding ring, with the approval of Siguun. It was a dark iron, faceted and engraved with a wolfs' head. I adored it. I had enough shiny jewels, but I didn't have a ring from her.

A week later when we'd all sobered up, Lord Blackwell was there with a potion and a reminder that we did have to govern now. On the way back, I read the White-Gold Concordat and to be honest, I didn't like a single word. So it was time to begin re-negotiating it. Their claim to Hammerfell was meaningless, as I was not their sovereign. The Blades were already officially disbanded, and while they still had a place in my plans, I would be content with keeping them out of the spotlight for the time being.

The sticking point was in fact the Talos point. That was in fact going to be a point of negotiation, and I was going to have to prepare to give a little to get what we wanted. on the other hand, I did have a large contingent of people to look after, and I was going to have to take care of them. Including the ones who worshiped Talos. Which meant that if Justiciars were allowed, it would have to be on agreeable terms. We'd need to decide what those were, but the initial bartering would start with "Justiciars allowed only in a diplomatic capacity, no enforcement powers, only able to arrest with formal written complaint to the appropriate channels" and a few other small things that would hamper them - somewhat.

The negotiations were extensive, and took several weeks. I moved slightly on some points, reiterated there were a few points I had no say in, and when the negotiations began to falter, I quite frankly cheated - I used the Voice to require the Thalmor second in command to tell me the exact negotiation strategy, what they would accept, and what they were planning in order to ensure the Empire remained the weaker nation. After that, there was a week of recess before things were re-negotiated with the nations acting as equals. The Thalmor did rattle their sabers a bit, which was promptly countered with a reminder that I could not only make their negotiators tell me what they wanted, I had a few dragons who may have found a liking to the warmer climes such as those that could be found in Summerset. The Thalmor much rather preferred to talk after that.

With that somewhat sorted, we turned to internal matters. With the recent war, the aftermath was going to require some cleaning up. When I looked at the ledgers, I realized that my personal fortune was going to be the primary source of income for the Empire for the immediate future. Things needed to be done, and so a series of acts were passed in order to generate income. Essentially, I created a series of guilds that would pay the crown an annual duty, and from that they would receive an Imperial mark that acted as a quality guarantee. And almost every occupation was included, including the already existent Fighters' Guild as well as the remnants of the Synod Council. The second benefit for the guilds was that their appointed leader was given a seat at the Elder Council table. The returning council members wouldn't be pleased, however their loyalties were highly suspect - given that they'd collectively lived for the past several years as guests of the Dominion, they may have been convinced that Cyrodiil being placed in a secondary position to the Dominion was favorable.

I had different ideas.

The second set of guilds was a bit more circumspect; being that it was the thieves guild and their members were a rather larcenous set, I sent a message to Karliah requesting her presence at a convenient hour for us. The agreement was simple; no personal violence in keeping with the traditions of the Thieves Guild, and a percentage of goods acquired being used for the benefit of the poorest. In return, there would be aid passed in the normal forms - friendly guards, notes of places to be stolen from, and sundry essentials. They would not, however, be allowed any official standing as they were still criminals. A similar offer was conveyed to those whos' larceny was more of an ocean-going sort, this one conveyed by the new Count of Leyawiin, Casius. They were content to have to pay a little of their ill-gotten gains in return for not being hunted down by the navy. Those who did not pay would find themselves in dire straits. The East Empire Company would make some noise about this arrangement when they found out, but I had a few things in mind to keep them content.

Late one night I heard a visitor and could smell a poison in the air. The Tong member was good, I give them credit for that - however, as someone who had survived many things, I was able to intercept them and offer an exchange; their life for a message. They could send one assassin per year to attempt to fulfill the writ. They would not be pursued inside Morrowind. In exchange, they would be allowed to perform specific services to the Empire as such things were deemed necessary - Lord Blackwell would be their primary point of contact. Any independent services they provided would not be officially sanctioned and if caught the full measure of justice would be extracted from them. As long as they understood the rules, they could play by them.

Lord Blackwell was highly put out by this arrangement, and so I had to explain things to him - by giving them a sanctioned route, they would be likely to play by the rules, especially when there was a promise of more work for them - which they could probably use. Certainly they were cold-blooded murderers, but they weren't uncivilized. Additionally, it gave another level of deniability, why would I deal with the Morag Tong when they had a writ with my most imperial name on it? He grumbled, but assented.

I do think he showed his displeasure in a roundabout way, as not three days later I had an appointment for royal portraiture. Two to be specific - one by myself, and a second with the royal family. Dress was highly formal, and I was highly annoyed by what the imperials considered to be fashion. Frippery. Nonsense and frippery. The children were delighted to play dressup for an hour, and then it got boring. It took another hour for the rough sketches to be done and then we got to go out and actually tour the city. Somewhat. It was bothersome, because I wasn't able to wear any weapons openly. Apparently such things do not inspire confidence among the commoners.

Those weeks and months were busy, all the more so since a portion of the army had decided to stop being soldiers and start being bandits. That was a security measure I left to the local counts, as I was surprisingly busy with international matters. Morrowind and Skyrim were fairly amiable as such things went, but other nations were less so. Hammerfell had heard of the demands the Dominion had placed at my seat and re-confirmed that southern Hammerfell was in fact Hammerfell, and any diplomatic attempt to say otherwise was going to be considered a pretext to war. The Dominion chose not to press the issue.

Finally, after a full year of this, including the birth of mine and Rigmors' child Kintyra (it has always seemed odd to say such a thing), it was time for the crown to be passed to Rigmor herself. I was then styled as the Imperial Consort, so that I could raise the children in comfort, and watch what I had built grow without the daily tedium. It felt good.

It felt better when Kintyra grew up to be so much like her mother, and from there the Empire grew even as the gods had said it would. By that time, I'd been out of the direct Imperial court for decades, and when it was announced that I was taking my retirement to Falkreath in the north, there was some ceremony but not a great deal of sorrow - I was remembered as someone who came with chaos and brought stability, but the truly great leaders were my successors, Rigmor and Kintyra. The other children were well ensconced in their lives and would visit, and it felt good. I packed up, and began a new life of summers in Falkreath, and winters in Bruma. Eventually Rigmor aged and when she couldn't travel any more, so we spent her twilight years in Bruma among her people and telling stories of when we were young and strong.

Our last trip to the Imperial City was filled with spectacle, as our daughter had a surprise for us. Statues made of us in the Arboretum. We objected. Deeply, but at the same time Kintyra managed to look imperially hurt that we would be upset about this, and we finally assented. But we were a bit confused, as there were sketches and prints of what we looked like, and the likeness was startling. At least they got the details right on my armor.

Rigmors' passing and funeral was an event in its' own right; it was crowded and not at the same time, as most of the people who had accompanied us through the invasions and wars were long since gone themselves, and most of the mourners were our friends and subjects from after we'd been made royalty. So it was with that realization that I gathered my memorabilia of ruling, bade farewell to Kintyra and went to Falkreath to start a garden and possibly figure out how alchemy really worked, enjoying a quiet retirement.

** EPILOGUE **

The evening had progressed well, and as people came and went, eventually everyone in the large extended family was tired but listening with rapt attention, as there were things the old woman had spoken of that nobody had ever mentioned before, even the scholars who came to ask questions and wrote books with those questions supposedly answered. The aged Dunmer finally finished talking and looked satisfied. The children had mostly found their parents and were settled in, some asleep, and some thinking about how they could forge their own destinies from under such a shadow.

The old woman stood, slowly gathering her chair and lifting it with a slight effort. "Children, an old woman needs her bed - try not to make too much noise, the pantry is full, and the mead and flin are in the basement where they've always been. In the morning, go home and live your lives. Don't live mine - it's a good life, but not one I wish for you." And then she made her way to place her chair by the door, retrieved her weapons and finally propped the door open so that those who wanted refreshments could get them, and made her way to a very soft bed.

With the morning came everyone packing and laughing, going back to their homes in every corner of the empire. The old woman saw off every cart and rider, giving a little gift here and there, potions, books, and other sundry things for everyone. Then she shooed the noble entourage away with a look, telling the most noble lord Terentius to relay her message to her grandson, and that she would expect the Emperor in due time.

Two weeks later, the Emperor did in fact come to Falkreath, and there was a private conversation. When the Emperor left, he forbade any discussion of the visit. A night later, there was a much larger visitor, and left bearing an old woman to an unknown place.

Historians' Note: The final fate of the Dunmer Empress Almatheia Stormblade remains unknown, even to the most dedicated scholar. It is a shame, as the value of her favored weapons, Northern Honor and Du'gahkim'm Malroua by themselves would be immeasurable, and her armor was a prime example of the finest smiths of the early 4th era. The only conjecture is that she died in battle, and that is a rumor based on the Nord book Finding Sovngarde, where the author writes of meeting the great heroes Ysgramor, the Tounges of the Dragon War, and "A comely Dunmer who was never without the company of three Nords - a male smith, a female of high Imperial rank, and a noblewoman, perhaps even royalty. But the Dark elf comported herself as if she belonged among the Nords, and the Nords treated her as one of the greater, even in a hall filled with heroes." While highly dubious, such a story is taken as truth among the denizens of Skyrim.

What is known is though her reign was short, with other historians calling her the "One-Week Empress", her deft political maneuvers and policies perhaps grounded in her commoner childhood laid the groundwork for the Morgan-Mede Dynasty. It is no real secret that her works and commitment to the rebuilding of Cyrodiil - even dipping into her own personal treasury - are acts politely ignored by those who would prefer to think of Cyrodiil in a more Imperial fashion. Certainly there have been attempts to recast her successors, Rigmor Morgan-Mede and Empress Kintyra as Imperials, despite their obvious Nord heritage.

The same cannot be said in Skyrim, where the 17th of Last Seed (the date of her initial arrival in the province) is celebrated as Dovahkiins' Day, a festival day second only to the date of Independence. On this day there are stories, feasting and drinking with a mix of Morrowinds' and Skyrims' own potables, with stories of her deeds being swapped and inflated to almost comical heights. In Morrowind, her memory is divisive, with House Hlaalu both revering and despising her in a single breath, House Redoran being stoically in her favor, and the other great houses being of neutral acknowledgement of her existence. Even House Sadras, the house of her birth-allegiance, was cool and wary of her when I spoke with them.

I implore the reader that if they have the capability to do so, continue to research the fascinating life of the third Dunmer to sit the Ruby Throne and add to her tale that it not be kept solely in the minds of the North.

--

Authors' Note - So, this is (for now) the end of the Almatheia Chronicle. At this point, I may be taking a bit of a break from posting and let some fresh ideas in. That said, it's been fun sharing this story, and if you have questions, feel free to comment or send a message.

Thank you.

Lord Blackwell was less thrilled, and kept mentioning royal escorts. Delphine could not get the Blades here soon enough. I made a mental note to see about getting one of the younger dragons down here to act as a royal guard. Though what the heck they would eat was a concerning question. I decided to put a hold on that thought - the point was I was getting one more adventure, and for the last longest time I was working without anything more than a housecarl for aid. Lord Blackwell insisted that I needed to stay out of harms' way. Without going into too many detail, I reminded him that I was in fact harms' way. It was a long argument before I finally assented to 5 guards, but I got to pick them. They were all veterans from the Legion that was at the Battle of Whiterun (the second one) and were all smart enough to know to be quiet and let me go in first.

Freathof came bustling up and asked me if I had found the red diamond after the fight with the daedric princes. The What. Nobody had mentioned a red diamond, and to be fully truthful I had been very busy. Freathof nodded and told a wonderful tale about how I had prevented essentially an inverse Amulet of Kings - had the gem been completely filled and proper ceremonies done, the gem that formed the Bridge of Sighs would have been transformed to a black diamond capable of lighting the Dragonfires of the Imperial City and creating a barrier to the Nine Divines. While I was tempted by the thought of such a thing, it would have also allowed the Daedra free access to Nirn.

The gods may be fickle assholes, but the daedra are in fact worse. That said, I couldn't act on information I didn't have, and I strongly recommended that the next time Freathof discovered something that important, he should in fact tell me in time for me to act on it.

The trip was beautiful, it was epic, and it was a bit depressing in the end. The men and I drank and fought a few things, but overall they were competent enough, and once we got to the Ayleid ruin, there were already a few treasure hunters there - they were dealt with, but of critical importance was no red diamond. There was however a passage below, which led to a graveyard with a singular personage seated on the throne. She called herself Pilvi-Hanesh, and was filled with a religious sorrow. She had spurned a prince because of his turn to the daedra - according to her, it had become fashionable to worship the daedra in that age. She was less enamored by the daedra, and told him so. In revenge he had cursed her, her city, and then as a final insult built a city on top of hers after collapsing all entrances, so that she would never feel Akatosh again. After telling the tale, she smiled and gave me her ring, and then she - it's hard to explain, but I felt like she had transcended somehow.

We were quiet on the way back, but I did have the ring. Unfortunately, while I'd been gallavanting off, Lord Blackwell had been arranging for a coronation. Damn him and his efficiency. There were a large number of dignitaries, including High King Ulfric, Count Camaeus from the Dominion, as well as representatives from High Rock, Elsewyr, Morrowind, and a lot of places formerly of the Empire.

The pre-pre-ceremony was a little tense, as I gathered all the leading parties into a room, confirmed that I wanted to work with all of them to ensure lasting peace both within and without the empire, and that I would be very put out if anyone decided to cause a scene. Settling grudges could wait until the wedding reception, but even then I advised that the fighting would be fists only. No magic - including enchanted bracers - and nothing that needed a hand to be operated. Any breaches of protocol would be considered a personal insult. They all agreed that making a Dragonborn Empress unhappy would be a bad idea even in the best circumstance, and confirmed they'd all be on their best behavior.

With that, I went to the pre-ceremony where our clothes had been laid out. During that, Lord Blackwell spoke with us about how we would be styled as Empress and Queen. For Rigmor, it was rather straightforward - she took her ancestral surname Morgan and tied it with her royal lineage to become Rigmor Morgan-Mede. As for me, it was, complicated. I decided on simplicity, sort of - Almatheia Stormblade the First, and if we wanted to be formal Empress Almatheia Stormblade of House Sadras. For Rigmor, her great-grandmothers' robes that had been laid out seemed to fit her rather well. For me, I had to put on the armor of Tiber Septim.

The. Tiber Septim. Oh this was going to be fun. Fortunately, adjustments were made, and it looked good on me. The children had all been fitted for royal clothing, and even Sofie was wearing a dress. I commented, and she admitted that while she wasn't fond of dresses as a rule, this was in fact important enough to merit such a thing. Blackwell instructed us on a few people I didn't know. From High Rock, the representative was a high lord, as the king himself was in ill health. However, they had also sent a young-ish child named Potema, apparently she was the heir apparent under circumstances that seemed dubious at best. I reminded the children that there was to be no fighting at the wedding itself.

Armor fitted, time to walk and talk and take the measure of my new peers. Some I knew well, others not as well. The High Rock contingent I disliked onsight. The lord seemed as if he bathed in an odor of arrogance, and the young Potema was learning well. Potema seemed intent on being the center of attention - she interrupted the initial verbal dancing around what was expected from each party by heh-hemming a few times, and when she was acknowledged, she told everyone that not only were they kin by some unknown mechanism, but that she dearly wanted to see "her cousin". And on top of that, she expressed pre-emptive sorrow at the loss of Rigmors' life given that nobody who gave birth to a Dragonborn survived the event.

This was in interesting thing to respond to, and decorum demanded a civil response. I gave the lord a rather disparaging look and engaged Potema. I complimented her on her ability to gather information, but reminded her that statements such as those she had made revealed far more than she intended. I then leaned forward and whispered very quickly what had transpired years before at Wolfskull cave with the Wolf Queen Potema and subsequently under Solitude. That seemed to catch her attention and as I stood I implored the lord in charge of her to pay attention to my surprisingly well-behaved children, and exressed hope that Potema could learn from their fine example.

The rest of it was far more genial, as Ulfric and I embraced as kin, First Councilor Arano and I shared good news about the ebony mines of Raven Rock and discussed my return should the ebony stop flowing, and Bar-ren'dar and I kept the laughter going right up until Count Camaeus wished to express his hope at the restoration of the Elder Council-in-exile and subsequent ratification of the White-Gold Concordat.

That was a tricky thing, but I did keep an open mind - Camaeus was acting on behalf of the Dominion, and the Dominion dearly loved that treaty. I suggested that some things were probably best amended, and I would have a response once I'd been granted sufficient time to read the entirety of it. Camaeus countered that immediate ratification would bring benefit to all, and also allow them to share in the benefits of recent action.

Short version, re-instate the Concordat and I could have the red diamond. Hopefully Potema wasn't paying attention too closely, because this was how you boxed someone into a compromise. I implored the count to re-read in detail what their Justiciars had most recently gathered while I was personally re-reading the White-Gold Concordat, and we could make a better decision once everyone knew all the facts. In other words, don't push a dragon-riding Empress. The Elder Council representative was a curious mix - self-assured, and yet at the same time utterly obsequious toward Cameus. In all likelihood accepting the Council-in-exile would be placing the Empire in the hands of the Dominion. Not a good look. All of that was running through my mind as I ascended the steps to the least comfortable chair ever and sat in ceremonial regalia while the head priest of the temple invoked all the divines (nice dodge, that) to bless the reign of Empress Almatheia.

And with that, I had a very heavy, very shiny hat placed upon my head as most of the room cheered. Potema was sulking, and Count Cameus had left with his Elder Council pet in tow. Interesting. Afterward, there was definitely a feast and more than a bit of drinking, and then things began to move rapidly before they moved slowly. We spent a few nights getting things in order, and then we pretty much moved en masse to Bruma for a wedding.

So, by right of combat, I had accidentallied my ass onto the Ruby Throne. For the record, I have sat in more comfortable chairs. I wouldn't have these problems if people were willing to not die on my sword. I spoke with Rigmor and we were resolved that I would not be Empress for any length of time. The problem was that someone needed to be in charge, and as Rigmor was going to be indisposed due to the gods' plans for her, I was going to be in charge whether officially or unofficially. The irony of a Stormcloak leader being the empress was not lost on me as I shifted around to try and find a comfortable spot on the throne while Imperial sergeants scattered to prepare Emperor Sethius for burial. Regrettably, he was going to have an Imperial state funeral and not just dropped in a shallow grave. However, shallow graves are apparently impolite. I did ask.

It was going to be a long year. First things first - maintaining order, which meant putting people in charge that I trusted. Which meant it was back to Skyrim. Lord Blackwell was rather distraught about the idea, particularly since the funeral would be tomorrow, and the next day I was going to be out and about. He wanted me to stay and send couriers, and I wanted to not stay - I raised my voice, and that ended the argument. It was a long ride to Falkreath, made worse by the fact that I had a contingent of bodyguards. I argued with them rather vigorously about it, but Lord Blackwell was rather insistent that I pay attention to this. I laid out all the reasons that I could handle myself, and his counterargument was simple in that people were not going to like a Dunmer ruling the Empire. Apparently it wasn't proper, and for them to see me as a leader I was going to have to act like a leader.

Damn him for being right, but I made him promise to take the children and their furnishings straight to the palace because I was going to be gone for a month, and I promised I would have a bodyguard throughout Skyrim, as I was going to be making plans and putting them into effect.

The children were thrilled to see me, surprised that I was surrounded by Imperial soldiers who were not dead, and apoplectic when they were told they would have to move. I promised them that thy would still have a lake to go swim in. Sofie was old enough to be on her own, and she was rather not fond of the idea of leaving Skyrim. I asked her to take over Hjerim and act as an ambassador of sorts to pass my advice to Ulfric when he needed it. And I strongly hinted to Sofie that she needed to get married because when I retired, I wanted grandchildren to dote upon. And if she could find Ulfric a wife already, I would make it a personal point to attend the wedding.

Lord Blackwell insisted that I needed a royal guard for the next few stops on my journey once he knew of my itinerary. I shouted for Ohdaviing, and when he arrived I presented him to Lord Blackwell as my royal guard. Fortunately, Lord Blackwell was smart enough to know when to stop arguing. He escorted the children back to the Imperial City with the stern demeanor that I was already starting to like.

Our first stop was Windhelm, where Ulfric and I had a nice long conversation after we found Ohdaviing a nice place to park and eat some things. I told Ulfric my intentions, that we were going to rebuild the Empire. To do that we needed Nord and Redguard blood. As he was High King, I felt it wise to ask his councilors to begin considering formalized treaty arrangements. I also advised him of my intention to poach a few of the Jarls who had supported the empire from Elisifs' court. Before we left, I confirmed with Ulfric that we were kin still, and that we would have stories now and in Sovngarde. I also recommended that he find a date and start making plans to go to Bruma, because I was in fact getting married to Rigmor and some people were needed to represent my family. In addition to that, I padi the captain of the Northern Maiden to make a special trip to Solstheim with just a message to the First and Second Councilors, inviting them to a wedding, dates and price of transport to follow.

Our second stop was Solitude. Our reception there was, well, awkward. Despite everything, most of the court remembered me as a Stormcloak - it had been a long time since I'd been made Thane by Lady Elisif. Once it had been confirmed that I was in fact Empress, I hinted that service to the Empire would not be forgotten, and that we wished a friendly northern border. After that, I asked Balgruuf and Igmund to uproot their households; Balgruuf to Anvil and Igmund would oversee Skingrad, each of them to be styled as Count. Lastly Jarl Igrod would go to Bravil with her family, to become countess. I confirmed with both of them that time was not going to be wasted, and things needed to be dealt with. Erikur volunteered for service to the Imperial court, and I rather politely declined, hinting that whatever services he had to offer were far more useful here.

Our third stop was Paarthurnax. We spoke about recent events, and I can't say for certain, but he seemed pleased. Of course, he did reiterate the ancient wisdom that those who didn't seek power were the best to wield it. Many of the dragons were themselves enjoying independence, but they could be called by a powerful voice. I spoke deeply of my concern for the Aldmeri dominion, and their apparent desire to keep the Empire sundered so that they could rule. He agreed, the Altmer were being foolish, but according to Paarthurnax that was simply their youthful pride. A dragons' perspective is interesting.

Our last stop was Sky Haven Temple. Delphine had been recruiting, and the Blades seemed to be coming to their senses. The reception was still a little frosty - however I did advise Delphine that I needed things, and that the duties of the Blades would be expanded and reformed. They were to become primarily my personal cadre under the Penitus Oculatus, and also work with Lord Blackwell with the Empires' intelligence network. I told Delphine to get moving, and do it quietly. I advised Delphine that if any of them balked, remind them that a Dragonborn sat upon the Ruby Throne again, and that next in line was the mother of a Dragonborn. Unlike the others I had spoken with, their oaths bound them. The benefit to the Blades was that if they agreed, we would rebuild the ancient Cloud Ruler Temple. It wouldn't be proper to have Blades without a place to be Blades.

Finally, I rode Ohdaviing back to Bruma and settled in for a day with Rigmor. She mentioned that Robere had been very quiet since learning of the passing of the crown. We sat and discussed it at length. Either exiling him or executing him would make a martyr or a rallying point for people who wouldn't be fond of the new Empress. And so it was that we began a rather lengthy discussion of what was right versus what the nobility would accept. As a member of Sethius' favored sons, it was well and expected that the count should die, and indeed the people of Leyawiin had already stormed the castle and executed the count while I was in Skyrim, but had not gone so far as to name a count. Given the location, I was content to name Casius as count. It was a nice station, and he'd be a good steward and settle down himself.

Still, Robere. He had certainly done enough with his own plots to merit death - however, I felt the need to make an example of him. I had a new coat of arms made for him; for those who could read such things it advertised his cowardice in battle and his service to himself above all others. I was quite pleased. I presented them to Robere and he was highly displeased with it, demanding execution - apparently the stories told of my personal vengeances were a bit much, and it was not out of the realm of possibility that he had gone mad.

I refused, because I wanted to be known as a merciful sovereign. However, since I couldn't risk that he would attempt to raise arms against me or speak out against me, his punishment was simple, and it was his choice. I explained his situation and his choices - once he stopped screaming oaths and epithets. Firstly, in regard to the situation. As his father was the former count of Leyawiin, Robere's standing was nonexistent. His lands and titles were forfeit. His existence was at my pleasure, and he had not pleased me in any sense of the word. Thus the remainder of his life would serve as an example. His first choice was execution, but on my terms. It would be painful, it would be public, and it would last as long as Bruma would stand it. Which, given how he'd treated their city, could be weeks before any amount of pity found its' way to their hearts. His other option was simpler. He would relocate to Leyawiin, never to leave. He would never be given employment, but he would be given a generous supply of liquor and serve as an example of the dangers of overindulgence.

Certainly given the choices, he said he needed time to think about it. I gave him until dusk. And then I sent a courier with invitations to the jarls and the First Councilor, to wit get to Bruma for a wedding. With everything that was going to be happening, this was the month to get everything going. Rigmor, being Rigmor, had a request for the ring. Thia wasn't a problem, since I had a few goldsmiths who owed me a favor for guarding shipments and a veritable hoard of gems in a vault.

Then she described the ring, and it was a problem. Legend held that under table mountain was an Ayelied city of sorts, essentially from before they turned en masse to daedra worship. Within that city was supposedly a ring of epic worth, that contained the very blood of Akatosh. Or so it was said. In any event, she would very much like this ring, and getting it was her charge to me. I smirked as she described it - she was giving me a wonderful gift, one last adventure before taking on the reigns of state. And she knew it too.

She really did love me.

That said, I needed a nap and promised Lord Blackwell and answer would be rapidly forthcoming once we'd ascertained the status of Bruma and the northern border. Lord Blackwell took a rapid leave, and I stood, and promptly forgot how to stand. Apparently the events were a bit much, or Morag Sethius was trying to ensure she had company in Oblivion.

The next bit I knew was...not an unfamiliar path. It was possibly becoming too familiar, as I saw again Rikke and Balimund at the steps of Sovngarde, but this time a new figure was there. She introduced herself as Alessia, and she had heard all about me from my two favorite residents. Alessia did also mention that there was not a great deal of time, as my soul had been untethered for a time, but when I returned it would be a great chaos, but that I would be able to do the right thing for everyone, and see prophecy fulfilled. I promised them I did not keep arriving here on purpose. Alessia laughed a bit, and again I shared mead with them and promised that I would not tease them with these breif visits if I could avoid such. Alessia kissed my forehead like I was a mere child, and bid me wake up.

I awoke with a lot of battle around me. We were beginning our final assault on the Imperial city. However, more importantly I needed a relief bush. I had been asleep for a week, but in that time the combined army had run a circular path to the Imperial City, and there were only light fortifications between us and Weye, the small trading post on the Red Ring road. The battle was...well, it was less of a battle and more a group summary execution that made me feel pity more than any other emotion. Once we'd taken Weye and secured the position, we stopped and sent a messenger halfway across the bridge with a note advising that we'd come to bargain. After a time there was a reply message.

Their initial terms were generous enough that I was concerned. Nothing but good things for me and Rigmor, full pardons and various other things, punishments for those who had fought against us, and me being named Countess of Leyawiin were I to accept such an honor. Quite frankly I was not enamored with the idea, since I was already heavily titled, landed, and I had a nice house on Lake Ilinalta where I was definitely going to retire soon.

We told the messenger we'd consider it. We were definitely not going to be riding into the city and causing trouble, but we did need a rest. I cleaned my armor in Lake Rumare and set it out to dry, keeping the essentials on me because I really didn't want Rigmor to see what Morag had done to me. It still stung.

In the morning, we got ourselves ready and tidied ourselves as best we could, and walked across the bridge to the Imperial City. The army was advised to encamp, and if we weren't back by sundown, the next morning they could consider us prisoners and ride in. It was a very oppressive feeling. The streets were beyond nervous and a few people almost threw themselves at us begging for mercy. We bade them rise and told them we were here to broker an agreement, and that we would not be violent unless violence was done to us first, but could we please get through to the palace.

Once we were there, the emperor was a frightful mess. I mean, there was definitely reason for him to be nervous, as I was capable of killing him several different ways, but Rigmor and I both reiterated that we were in fact here to talk. We just wanted to talk. Unfortunately, the Emperor was a mess, and I actually felt some pity for Lord Blackwell. I mean the Emperor was probably manageable with Morag, but now that she was gone (not my fault) he was probably realizing just how far out of his depth he was.

As he approached, he reeked of someone who'd had far too much wine for negotiating. I mean seriously, here he was, emperor of an empire trying to wheedle and blame everyone and begging for mercy. We let him go at it for a minute before we reiterated we wanted to talk. That we just wanted to talk, and that we were willing to build a treaty from the initial terms presented the past day. We negotiated more with Lord Blackwell, in all honesty. There seemed to be something in my tone or posture that moved a lever in him. Maybe it was that I managed to make "Your Highness" sound like he was a s'wit. Or it was some ancient bandit 'beg for mercy and stab 'em while their guard is down' trick. Something wasn't right, and during the negotiation I kept one eye on the Emperors' hand.

We were finalizing everything and stood to head over to sign off on the new terms and conditions, and Rigmor started to vomit her of breakfast. And from there, the Emperor sensed his chance and pulled his sword to strike. What happened next was really a reflex action; my sword and axe came out. I moved, leading with my sword to take his sword (and hand) off and then spun in a circle which ended when I relieved the emperors' neck from burden of his head courtesy of the Axe of Windhelm.

If you're going to kill an emperor, do it with style. Otherwise you're just wasting time.

The unfortunate thing was that Rigmor had just finished emptying breakfast onto the nice floor of the throne room, and the now-former emperors' body doing what the formerly recently alive do made it worse. Not my fault. Okay, kind of my fault, but he started it. But I called for some water already to steady Rigmor, put my weapons back where they belonged, and then gave a good long look at Lord Blackwell, in order to gauge whether I would have to make further use of the weapons or if we were going to start playing nicely.

Blackwell was surprising in his steady demeanor and I'm pretty sure he was relieved, he guided us both through the throne room and up the steps. I paused for a moment and asked what exactly he was thinking. He sighed the sigh of someone who has dealt with far too many stupid children and reminded me that by killing the emperor in single combat, I had in fact fulfilled the conditions required to become Empress.

Apparently retirement was just not going to happen any time soon for me. And when I realized this, the shout of immense frustration was possibly (probably) heard by the Greybeards themselves.

It may have been hypocritical, but I berated him for being crude and upsetting a rather delicate negotiation like a Stros M'kai pirate - certainly the question could have waited a day. His counterargument was unsettling as an oblivion gate, in that he needed to be aware, as the priest had visited him as well; apparently 50 years past he was told and cajoled to create this group of soldiers that was camped out by the selfsame priest who had appeared before me twice. Apparently he had a part to play in this prophecy as well, but one thing he said struck me as exceptionally odd - he said that Rigmors' child Kintyra would be a Septim, and that who I truly was should be as plain as our respective ears.

That...was disconcerting on several levels. My family line was known, and in no way had we come across any of the Imperial Royalty in any way - even Barenziah, who had apparently met every Dunmer in Morrowind, High Rock, and Cyrodiil if all the stories of ancestors meeting and talking with her were true. Honest (as such things go) hard-working, but certainly never anyone that nobility or royalty would take note of. The s'wit was speaking from the skooma bottle. Alternatively, it could be that Siguuns' lineage somehow had ties to the Septims through some convoluted and heretofore unknown combination of horny royalty and Nord. I liked that thought, it was much better than any alternative.

I brought myself back to the moment with some effort, and agreeing to not commence slaughter on the Dominion tonight, provided he could remain quiet regarding Rigmors' health. So far as we knew, Rigmor had eaten something disagreeable. Which might very well be the case. I desperately hoped it was the case. If she was in fact pregnant, there were way too many questions that didn't have good answers.

On a positive note, it was quite possible we'd all be dead by dusk tomorrow, and we wouldn't have to answer any questions - the gods however would be berating themselves for not creating a nice neat prophecy that didn't rely on one individual surviving the Red Year, a civil war, not one but two battles with the harbringer of the end times, a mad Dragonborn who gave his soul to a Daedric Prince and spent the whole of recorded history regretting such a bad deal, an invasion by the angry part of the Aldmeri Dominion, giants, bandits, assassins, and an insane vampire who wanted to destroy the sun.

Although given what I'd survived and thrived on, maybe the gods weren't wrong to put 50 drakes on me to win this fight.

That night was a quiet camp; the men were quiet, focused, and ready. Rigmor was very cosy, and we spoke for a bit about what-if's, and she mentioned that if she had a daughter, she would name it Kintyra. An ill-omened name, but for some reason ill omens seemed to be the order of the day. At the same time, it was time to make a few things happen, and sleep was among them. Eventually.

We rose before the dawn, prepared ourselves, and made our way across rapidly in ones and twos - the legate was very antsy and loud, and it made me nervous. We knew what needed to be done, but he wanted it done with panache. Not pleasant, but we still had surprise on our side, as we caught most of the defenders abed, and the rest tired. The greatest challenges were the mountain itself and that technically we were invading Hammerfell. Not a great plan if anyone from the guards was about. That said, the defenses were stripped bare and we assembled outside the ruins, confirming orders. Cameus was being a bit of a n'wah, insisting that Rigmor stay back due to her "condition" - I rather bluntly told him to settle down and keep his troops on the flanks while the imperial contingent formed the tip of a diamond formation. I even drew it in the dirt so they knew what was going on.

Then we went in and it was fighting and more fighting, yet again with the Akaviri forces and other such maddening annoyances. I did in fact keep most of the contingent alive but we were losing numbers. Still, there was enough of us to make it to our final antechamber where Morag Sethius invited me to have a talk with her, while she was surrounded by a heavenly light.

Again she was talking, and I played along to give Sorella time to get within the arrowshot we needed. We kept bandying words while she spoke at length about a new world that we would create with only the proper gods in charge. Also, to be fully honest, I was fully weary from battle. While she certainly made valid points, she was also more than a bit insane. Also, she wasn't paying attention to my new favorite archer as Sorella's arrow arced gloriously toward the soul gem holding the children and shattered it.

Morag lunged at me and took a fair chunk out of my side before she...melted, would be the best word for it. But at the same time, it was in fact leaving time as the structure started collapsing. Being the first in, I was of necessity the last out. and that was problem as before I could leave the bridge shattered and I was surrounded by a lot of problems of the Molag Bals' Minions variety. Apparently he was doing a last-ditch to try and bring his world to Nirn. And so, I engaged with the Eye of Boethiah and brought Boethiah to the fight as well.

It was epic, bloody, and nasty, and I was finally able to smack Molag Bal on his toe with Scourge, and that caused all manner of things to happen which I was blissfully not conscious for. Thankfully, I came to after a period of time to find myself out of the ruin and catching warm sunlight on my face. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I was, and I had to get myself awake and oriented before I could get back to camp. I was able to, eventually.

Once there, everyone was there, including Tendril Sethri and others. They commented that I didn't look good. Because apparently, one should be crisp and refreshed after assaulting a held position, fighting a vampire, subsequently fighting all manner of daedra, and then having the best seat in the arena while two Daedric Princes did battle with each other for fun and finally taking a swim in a river without benefit of consciousness.

And we had a visitor. Of course. None other than Lord Blackwell wished to convey his respects and compliments for doing the things that most assuredly did not occur, as if they had occurred it would be a poorly received action by the government of Hammerfell. At least in a technical sense. For the most part, it was a nonsubject. What was a subject was the idea that Rigmor should marry Robere de Medallius.

His logic was sound. If she agreed to it, it would settle a great deal of tension currently present, as the opinion at court had turned of late - with the revelations of her fathers' bloodline, Rigmor was seen as a noble by birth and not merely a favored commoner, and as such there was agreement to have the charges dropped in an act of imperial clemency. Also of note, actually marrying Robere was not discussed. I'm fairly certain there were more than a few ways to dispose of an inconvenient noble. We'd have to consider it, and Rigmor seemed like she was considering it, at least for a moment. It would gain us some time. The alternative was the continuation of what was effectively a civil war, with the winner being whosoever would have the fortune to either cleave their way to the throne in blood and fire, or defend the throne against all who dared assault the royal personage.

All in all a very weighty proposition that did nothing for my head.

With the dawn came exhausted horses and a little sign from Casius as to his whereabouts. Finally, more horses from Casius and a nice relaxing ride up the Brena river, while one of the Falkreath guard took the horses back to Bruma. The ride gave me time to think about the gods and their annoying habits of making things happen even against the desire of mortals. I mean really, I was going to retire. Raise the children and start working quietly to bring High Rock, Hammerfell, Skyrim, and Morrowind together to prepare for the next war with the Dominion. All of this was not part of the plan.

That said, you drink the flin you're served, not the flin you want. And right now, we needed a little break before we got to the camp. We walked the horses to a stream for them to drink, and Casius and Sorella found somewhere to be while Rigmor and I had a bath. I'll admit, I wasn't fully there, as my discussions in the cathedral had been weighing heavily on my mind. Quite honestly, I wouldn't put it past the gods to make something happen; they seemed intent on making things happen. Rigmor, much to my chagrin, noticed my lack of awareness.

It wasn't a long conversation, but I did explain what was going on, and we promised that we'd adopt a dog if it came to it. It felt good talking to her about what was on my mind, and a shrine to mara made itself known to both of us at the same time. Very odd, because it wasn't there before. We looked and then we touched the shrine, seemingly of our own volition. A slight error of judgement, as we were both knocked back a rather hefty distance. Rigmor seemed out of it, but at the same time she wasn't breathing. Someone was holding this moment for a discussion. I turned and saw the priest from the cathedral.

The conversation was productive, in the end. Once I'd been able to be talked down from a rather unhappy mood due to Rigmor getting knocked back, that is. I made a move to my sword and found I couldn't move. It was disconcerting, as he seemed very calm. The discussion took time, but it was very...displeasing. He confirmed that by touching the altar, we had allowed the will of the gods to be done, to wit Rigmor was pregnant and I was the father - metaphorically. Frankly I was disappointed, and told him so. The choices were being laid out, but there was very little choice involved. I was rather a fan of choice.

He snorted at me and reminded me that I made choices - with few exceptions - based on the "which choice pays better" protocol. I agreed, but at the same time it was rather necessary. That said, the real choice was how we were going to help each other. Apparently all I had to do was be me, and a few things would come into place. When there was a rather heated discussion as regard to Rigmor, that was where things became awkward. Apparently tradition and-or prophecy demanded that she die.

Prophecy could take a flying leap at a rolling sweetroll. They wanted their prophecy, and I wanted Rigmor. Being that the gods were behind this, they could sort it out or deal with unfulfilled prophecy. That was apparently the sticking point. He agreed to assist as best he could, but I might want to look to old friends for help. And then he was gone and Rigmor looked confused.

Fortunately, we made it the rest of the way to the camp without additional incident, beyond Rigmor looking rather peakish during meal breaks and certainly not entirely herself. Other then that, we made the gates and handed Sorella off to Casius' men and began checking to find out what we knew. A rather solid day of discussion followed, only to be interrupted by guests claiming parley. It was a rather decent contingent of Altmer, and the leader introduced himself as Count Cameus of the Aldmeri Dominion.

My sword was at his throat almost immediately. In my defense, it was a fairly reflexive action - my status within the Dominion seemed to shift with the moons, and it was best to be proactively cautious. To the counts' credit, he didn't soil himself. He did however ask that I lower the sword, as he had been sent by the Dominion to assist us as necessary. According to him, there were still holdouts from the New Order who had thrown in with Morag Sethius and as such they needed to be located, tried, found guilty, and executed. Hopefully within the span of a few moments, but that wasn't exactly my decision. That said, he offered a parchment which was taken and read by the Legate who was rather impressed by some of the names on it. It was most of the former Elder Council, whom Emperor Sethius had exiled after his victory as well as a few names we recognized.

It was just enough for me to relax my sword but I kept it in hand. Just in case. Rigmor was less calm about the matter, and quite frankly I couldn't blame her. The Count was gracious enough to tender an apology for what happened to her father. Quite honestly, it felt like a move in a game, just sincere enough to be believable and properly timed to position themselves to be helpful where later concessions could be received. That along with his large collection of signatures made it just palatable enough for us to sit at the table and discuss the logistical situation we were in.

The Legate had slowly been moving men across the river into Hammerfell and fully a third of his troops were across at this point. The rest of us would be making an approach at dawn - the night would cover our approach and we wouldn't be disadvantaged by the sun. From there it was going to be an approach up the mountain and then into the ancient Ayleid ruins that Morag Sethius had ensconced herself in. The true problem was that we had no idea what would be inside or where we'd need to go to get to the bridge.

This was going to be one of the times when we'd have to rely on pure violence of action to overwhelm defenses. Which would require numbers. Which meant, against every instinct and tactical sanity, we were going to have to have the Dominion force coming with us. I was barely comfortable with the Legion at my back - while the Independence War was 5 years past, certainly there were some who would have come back harboring some resentment, and the New Order invasion may not have tempered those resentments. Rigmor excused herself from the conversation, and I could tell she was not well. We were just about to wrap up the final orders to prepare the groups for assignment when Cameus asked rather indiscretely if Rigmor was pregnant.

That brought the whole session to a rousing halt as Rigmor went into a fine temper and I myself was deciding if incinerating the swit with fire would be less effort than digging a shallowish grave. I contented myself with telling everyone that I required private use of the tent with the Count. Nobody wanted to argue, and as they exited I looked down and found my hands quite full of weapons I saw their reasoning. I put the sword and axe on the table and began talking.

This text is a transcription of the words pronounced by Zena during her dawnguard mission to Pinemoon Cave.

I came to set them free with the Voice of Sky,

Bring them the sunlight,

I took at the Chantry of Auri-El.

​

My words will be like fire, then hell and finally the sun.

Their meanings will be precise like sunhallowed arrows,

Reaching their target at the heart of their sanctuaries.

​

I released them from the tyranny of the Dark Master,

Thanks to the intervention of legends,

Whose powerful voices pushed him to Oblivion.

This text is an extract from a biography of the legate Peterus, imperial soldier during the Civil War.

After leading the Imperial troops to victory over the barbarians commanded by Ulfric Stormcloak, Peterus served the Empire as a mercenary. Few soldiers survived the fighting, so the Jarls called the veteran to maintain order. During his service, Peterus killed soul-eating dragons, cannibal giants and blood-drinking vampires. Among all these exploits, history has retained its battle against the Seducers at Fort Kastav.

Seducers were bandits who attacked caravans, so the Jarls decided to kill their chief. Peterus succeed to jail him inside the Fort Kastav prison but some Seducers sent a letter demanding his release, otherwise they would storm the place. The soldiers of the Fort, who were young archers, wondered how to defend their building. Fortunately, the veteran motivated them and he promised that no one would die if they followed his instructions.

The dozen archers were posted on the ramparts, while Peterus was waiting on the main road. The day before, he had made an offering to Julianos. Seducers were not tacticians, so Peterus planned that they would regroup and rush like a herd towards the south entrance. That's what they did. A hundred thousand bandits, armed with their swords and axes, running at full speed towards the legate. When they were a few meters away, Peterus concentrated and cast a wall of frost. This scene was hilarious: The Seducers were now moving at idle because of their numb muscles. They became easy targets for the archers, who made arrows rain down. After hundreds of deaths, the Seducers decided to retreat. The soldiers burst out with joy. They won the battle.

Peterus was a man of his word: no one died during this assault. That evening, the soldiers sang in honor of the legate and they agreed to cut off the chief's head the next morning. Peterus went to rest in the captain's quarters, leaving the archers sleep around a fire in the courtyard. That's when the group of bandits called the Saints take revenge. They slaughtered the soldiers. In fact, they had been looking for Peterus since he had imprisoned their leader. Some survivors of the assault told them where the legate was. The Saints did not find Peterus with the other soldiers, so they thought he was gone. None had the idea to search inside the building.

When Peterus went out with the prisoner, he discovered the macabre scene. The Saints had left a note near the corpses. On the bloody paper, it was written that they were ready to die to find and kill the legate. The Seducers chief laughed. The legate brought him to his knees.

Peterus: Do you have final words?

Seducers leader: Are you going to take revenge?

Peterus: Justice is not revenge.

Seducers leader: Really? So, what is jus...

His head rolled on the floor before he had finished the sentence. Peterus left on horseback. Behind him, the dead bodies of the soldiers and the Seducers. Before him, the Jarls, the Saints, and his prayers for Mara.

It was a long afternoon, as the prophecy was explained in detail and with several books from Freathof. We discussed, and the prophecies seemed to point to an odd interpretation; to with that I would father a Dragonborn child, and that child would in fact be a bringer of peace to a renewed Empire of Tamriel. There was no explanation of how I would manage such a feat. And of note was that Dragonborn children had a good tendency to kill the mother. I recalled my youth, my father saying that mother had survived my birth only by a direct intervention from Azura, or so it was rumored. Freathof was bold enough to ask if Rigmor and I had done anything untoward. My lack of response was sufficient, however I did suggest that someone with a healthy desire to continue living would refrain from further questioning. I had no real explanation, but at the same time, I felt like this was something bigger than I could really fathom. So I took a walk, and my feet found a pew in the cathedral.

A priest approached, and I explained what was happening. I mean, he knew most of what happened given what had happened earlier in the day, but this was more personal. As I spoke, and talked about what was happening, and trying to give advice to Rigmor while being uncertain myself. The priest seemed highly cognizant of everything, more than he should, and encouraged me to trust and have faith that things would come to pass well for both myself and Rigmor. Oddly, I felt buoyed by everything and went to Rigmors' room. For some reason, she wanted to talk to Robere.

I was against it on principle, but finally sighed and agreed to escort. The storyteller guard was surprised, as if he hadn't started telling the story. But Robere was awake and sulking, and was utterly shameless in his description of his time with Rigmor. It was unflattering to say the least, and he was very much honest; he promised if he was freed, we would have quick quiet executions, without being paraded through the streets as traitors to the Count and Emperor. My death would be explained to Skyrim as a case of mistaken identity, as fitting the description of a wanted criminal of some sort.

I raised an eyebrow, as apparently Robere was simply bolstering his own confidence. Rigmor, on the other hand, was utterly despondent, as she had legitimate feelings for Robere and to hear him say the exact opposite was rather overwhelming, so she left. Let the record show that I was very polite and did not upset his little cart of happy thoughts. I did however beckon him over and ask him to consider very carefully the possible repercussions of threatening someone who not only fought and killed dragons, but tamed and rode them as well.

I went back to the guards and advised them that the story of the Blackbriars could start now, and it would be best to not skimp on any details. Then I checked with Yngol on an arrival for Sorella, because we were going to need some fast horses if we were going to stop what was happening in Hammerfell. Sorella was in theory on her way, along with a load of relief supplies from Whiterun. I told Yngol to take the cost out of my funds at Pinewatch, but to tell nobody. We were going to see Bruma through this one way or another, and if I had to pay and do escort missions after all this, then so be it.

We discussed it vehemently, but not coming to blows over it - I wanted them to see Skyrim as friend, so that we would have a population favorable to us later. Yngol wanted Bruma to see me as the hero. Counterargument was that they already did, so now it was time for the warm feelings to spread. Yngol finally agreed to the terms, and as such we were able to rest easily that night.

The next day was uneasy at best. There was breakfast and waiting. I always hated the waiting in all the battles I fought, because the waiting gave you time to think about all the unlikely things that could go wrong. I started by re-cleaning all my armor and weapons, making sure it was ready for the task ahead. Even with that in mind, it was not expected to see Lord Blackwell arriving under a flag of truce. I hustled to Rigmor and advised her to make a bargain for time. Let Blackwell think we would consider whatever proposal he put out while we hauled ourselves rapidly to Casius' encampment and made a rapid assault on Table Mountain.

It did not go as planned. Rigmor firmly berated Blackwell, declared Bruma independent of the Empire, and made more than a few good points about the actions of the Emperor. She also did lay out a few possibilities if the Emperor was to make an attempt at assault. This was definitely positive, and I'd like to think I had a hand in it. The next bit was interesting, as Blackwell istened and requested to see Robere, as any negotiations would be contingent on his health. Fortunately, he was healthy. However, he appeared to have listened very intently to the story of the Blackbriars as when I appeared he skittered to the back of his cell. When Blackwell appeared, Robere regained his composure and smiled the smile of a man about to be freed; except that he wasn't freed. At which point Robere became angry, and this time I actually felt bad for Blackwell. I mean, his job was to be a devious bastard, maintain an intelligence network, and protect the Emperor. All this and remember at the end of the day, what exactly it was he was trying to salvage. And here he was trying to browbeat two of the people who had very little need for him into releasing him.

Blackwell felt no need to spend politeness on Robere, reminding Robere that he was in a cell because when the time came to fight, he'd run away with the cleanest sword ever recovered from battle. And that this act would be remembered once the dust had settled in this fight. I was amused to watch as Robere claimed noble rights and privileges, which were all felled like a tree as Blackwell reminded him of his actual birthright. The we left and I spoke with Blackwell regarding what he could pass on to the Emperor. We agreed that a cessation of hostilities was required on all sides, and not just because the current assaulting troops weren't in any shape to do more than sit and block access to the Imperial city.

He also noted that the lull would allow us the necessary time to get to Table Mountain. I made no gesture one way or another, but I did agree that if someone were going to go to Table Mountain from Bruma, now would be a fine time to do so. Blackwell also said something rather disconcerting, in that if we truly wished for a lasting peace we needed to kill the Emperor.

He was more polite then that, but that was the essence of the conversation. I implored him to make haste to the Imperial City to make all needed preparations. Things were about to get very interesting. At the same time, we had to get the horses ready. Sorella was almost here, and we were going to need a nap before we started out. Fortunately, I was still able to nap anywhere, and so when Sorella arrived we were awake and refreshed for the night ahead. We committed the route to memory, along with where the horse exchanges were going to take place. I was given a stern look from Yngol and put Sorella in the saddle in front of me.

And under the fullest darkness, we started off, at first slowly and then once we passed the imperial lines we were off at a pace that would be best described as reckless. We had a ways to go, and not nearly enough time. We switched horses and position, with Sorella riding with Rigmor after the halfway mark; listening to them talk was interesting, and Sorella strongly hinted that Rigmor and I would make a wonderful couple.

Everyone's a matchmaker. I mean, they're not wrong, but the political situation made such a declaration untenable. Both of us needed to remain unwed for alliance reasons. Certainly it would not go unnoticed, but at the same time there were rumblings in High Rock and Hammerfell that a true alliance would be sealed with marriages. Perhaps that was what Ulfric was waiting for - a match to seal an alliance and broaden his own horizons or secure a flank.

We made it to the passage just after dark, making and from there, the passage would definitely be need of repair if we were going to be resupplying through it. There was a rhater perilous bridge, but in any event, it would be some time before we would need to address it. First things first, siege correction.

We came through to an Ayeleid ruin, of all places. I was certainly concerned, until Rigmor admitted that she knew the place, she'd snuck in as a child and broke her foot severely enough that her playmate had run back to Bruma to get her father. And from Rigmors' telling, he was angrier that she'd gone into the ruins more than her broken ankle. And that was a definite moment for a smirk.

In either case, we emerged not too far from Bruma, but there were obstacles. Specifically a patrol. They were fundamentally lazy, and stayed nice and warm by their fires. I did note that two were wearing Leyawiin armor, and the other two were wearing the imperial armor that had become more of the fashion of the newer members. Not good, since the newr members were more or less bandits wearing the same armor. With Rigmors whispered and signaled instructions, we were able to reach Bruma through the sewer. Not optimal, but better than getting noticed.

One in, we waded through and finally made it to the keep. A bath and change was requested, and once we were less sewer-scented, we made ourselves available for council. It was rather interesting, as Robere himself was given charge of the field, and was by all accounts preparing for an assault. Various siege and assault weapons were being built, and all manner of bad things were probably in the offing. On the up side, I could finally talk again, and I would probably be a match for the siege engines. If I had to. I'd rather not. With that in mind, it was late, and so we retired to beds to get ready for the morning and make a full assessment of what was going to happen.

With the morning came nothing good. The mixed troops outside the walls looked concerned, while inside the walls the stink of fear was growing. Rigmor and I went through the ranks, inspecting them leisurely. It was mentioned that the Fighters Guild chapter had asked for us to visit, so we did. I went, stories from my youth making me think we might have a chance as long as there was a sum of gold at the end of the day. It was odd thinking of myself as the hirer and not the hiree. I shouldn't have had those thoughts, because once inside, it was different. Old retired men, and the youngest of them was an Orc of about 50, if I was any judge, but wearing the armor of a Blade. She still had fire and strength to her, even if the others were hesitant to make any sort of decision as to whether they'd even fight. Apparently since the Great War, the Fighters' Guild had become more a home for old warriors than a true Guild. not a good sign. The Blade I spoke with, and I wasn't shy about pulling out my Dragonborn credentials. The trouble was, in her mind she'd left the Blades behind. She wore the armor and carried the sword, however. And when we looked at each other, I saw a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

She'd be there. We went and told the captain of the guard what to expect, when a ranging arrow landed in the grass to the front of the keep and a ram broke through and poorly wrecked a gate. The fight was brief, more of a testing skirmish then anything, as they broke ranks and fled with their ram rapidly, but still, the damage was done. The military version of a taunt.

There was a survivor among the attackers, and I approached him in ill humor. It was a young boy, barely able to swing a sword, and he spouted gibberish and oaths at me in particular until I loosened a few of his teeth with my gauntlet, and told him a tale. I told him of the ancient Tribunal, who were faced with an ancient problem and solved it using the bones of the Dunmer people to create a fence to contain a great evil. That fence stood for ages, stregthened by the will of the Dunmer people and the bones of those who passed. I then hinted that such a fence could be remade to keep evil out, but the forces of Leyawiin had not yet provided enough bones or souls. I told him to go, and tell this story to their commanders - that not only would their efforts at siege be futile, but that they would strengthen our defenses in the doing.

I may have bluffed a little too well, as the boys trousers dampened from a source that would be impolite to mention. In any event, he ran for the safety of his lines and we had perhaps a day, Yngols' men would be hard marching through the night to fight with the sun at their backs come the dawn. In the meantime, we received word from the fighters' guild - it seems the clash of arms at the gate brought old reflexes to bear, and they all came out to help. It seems we would have a few more old warhorses at our side.

We spent most of the rest of the day at the Inn, making sure plans were drawn, people knew their duty, and ensured that they were equipped well. With that, we retired to Rigmors' home near the temple, where she had a moment of hesitation. I could see the weight of this on her, and I seemed to be in a familiar position. And I understood what it was she needed, so I shed my armor and found a blanket to wear for the evening when her attention was elsewhere. And then I walked to Rigmor, letting the blanket drape (in)appropriately to tell her that whatever tomorrow brought, this night was ours and ours alone.

The morning rose, and I woke up first, dressing rapidly and laying out Rigmors' armor. Once that was done, we had a light meal and got ready. We left, and all the men and women of fighting age were there in a motley of armor and patchwork. But still, Rigmor took her place as I stalked the ranks, adjusting, securing, and listening as she brought herself to the fore, rallying the people who were about to fight and die for Bruma. Finally a signal arrow was launched, as Yngols' attack was beginning, and we rushed out in a wave with myself and Rigmor at the point of the arrow, shouting and Shouting for aid.

The imperial-leyawiin troops had no chance from the start, they were nervous about dying and being pressed to service even in death, and with assault from two sides it rapidly became a rout. And with the rout came the letters left behind, imploring for more troops and weapons. And once the fighting had finished, we found we had a hostage, Ser Robere. It was a rather positive thing, as he would be useful in any further negotiations.

The worst part about it was he decided to start talking, and wouldn't shut up. The whole time being marched back he talked about how his father was going to bring his army to reduce Bruma to a smoldering ruin, and everyone was going to be killed or worse, and then things were going to change, but I didn't say anything. We had enough room to maneuver and we needed all of it. As soon as we were clear, I had requests - first, two guards for Robere; one of who knew what had happened to the Blackbriars and could tell the story well, and one who did not to listen. The second request was for a sage, so that I could get an explanation for this prophecy.

Before all that, I had a message from Jonte as regarded the things at table mountain. As it was quite possible that Molag Bal might arrive on scene, Boethiah had proffered a few items to him that he was to pass along. The ancient mace Scourge, as well as an enchanted eye that could summon Boethiah herself in the proper circumstance. I dearly wished for improper circumstance - I'd had quite enough of even the good daedra in my life.

The cabin was filled with treasure and intelligence, apparently reporting a rendesvous point and the other ship had taken on unmentioned cargo. We checked the hold and found it was filled with empty cells. But the smell of man and mer was there, and it wasn't pleasant. We had to choose; go after the ship to give them a chance, or abandon them and head straight to Dawnstar.

Realistically, there was no choice. It was time to go hunt a ship, and now that we had a general course and destination, it was time to go on a naval expedition. We changed course and hoped for wind. I also went through my list of Shouts, but nothing I knew of would make our ship go faster, and anything that would slow there ship down wasn't going to work until we were close enough that the point was moot. I looked to the heavens and asked Kynareth for a little bit of help on this venture, because it was meaningful, and more to the point, I wasn't doing it to get paid.

The breeze freshened just enough for us to catch sight of them with the dawn, and by mid-morning we were within bowshot. I paused, aimed, and shouted frost at their sails as often as I could so they couldn't get away easily. And then we laid on with grapples to bring the ships together, which was not healthy for either ship, but at the same time they were not willing to be boarded. I waited and timed it, shouting myself across the distance before the boarding party even officially got the boarding part set, and then it was officially a mess.

The leader was a bulky sort of fellow, but I showed him the weapon I had taken from his counterpart at the prison, and he was mightily displeased. On the other hand, he was angry and therefore sloppy, so I was able to wear him down - it also helped that I could shout and he couldn't. Even when I missed hitting him directly, his companions were broken, battered and even thrown overboard. He finally reared back for an all-or-nothing, and got nothing but a stab in the throat for his troubles.

With that, the rest of the fighting ceased, or at least there was no fight left among the survivors to make a difference. We cleaned as best we could, stripping the bodies for anything useful; finally we went to the cargo hold and even the hardest amongst us were retching. Men, mer, beastfolk all packed in boxes barely big enough to fit themselves, but still alive. We took them out and let them breathe the free air, with Rigmor going among them and applying medication where she could. For the time being, they were staying on the ship as part of Casius crew took control of the ship and sailed it to Torval, where another old friend could make use of what was there.

And with that accomplished, we altered course yet again for Dawnstar. I was left whispering for a few days, but it was indeed worth it, and finally we landed and Rigmor and I made for Falkreath at a breakneck pace while Casius sailed around to go up the Brena river to meet with the Imperial Legate and communicate what would be happening - on the plus side, the Legate was a friend of Casius' from his days in the Legion. This were coming together far too conveniently for my liking.

Landing in Dawnstar brought a flurry of action as we began a ride as directly to dawnstar as we could, exchanging our horses at several interval and finally coming to my home in Falkreath as the evening became its' fullest, and it was here that we rested, and I saw my children for the first time in a long time. Symmachus and Morgiah were both highly enthused to see me, and they took well to Rigmor. Rayya was rather thrilled to have a full house again, and over a dinner that had taste we discussed the next steps. Rayya was to take messages to Whiterun, and have them couriered to Windhelm, as we were going to require supplies to Bruma even after we'd broken the siege.

The next morning was awkward; I'd had fuzzy dreams, all I could remember was fighting, with an army of the living and the dead at my side. It was troubling. We got the children dressed and ready for the day, before the twins said that Papa had come to them and said that Rigmor would be a good mommy for them and that they should take care of her. Rigmor turned several shades of red, while Sofie snickered. Sofie did however sneak some time with Rigmor when I wasn't looking apparently, as on our way to Falkreath Rigmor confirmed that Sofie had in fact threatened all the grievous harm she could muster were Rigmor to hurt me.

I had apparently raised the children properly.

Once in Falkreath, it was time for seriousness. As soon as I entered, Yngol grabbed Rigmor in a great big hug, whereas I got a warrior hug. We sat down, and gave him the bad news of what all the prophecy and what not meant. Yngol squeezed the arms of his throne so tightly they snapped, before he said no. I reiterated what was necessary, and Yngol swore by all the divines that if I kept it up there would be more than words exchanged. He was in no way going to allow Sorella anywhere near a fight - and I couldn't blame him, seeing as how I wouldn't let any of my children near the fighting.

I reminded him that it wasn't my children involved in the prophecy, but that Sorella would get all the care needed. Angi was brought in for her opinion, and it did not get better. I can't recall who started the fight but it was, according to Angi and Rigmor, a rather epic bout. Neither of us drew swords, however there was impressive damage to the longhouse. The next thing I remember clearly was coming to with the local priest worrying between the Jarl and the Jarls' thane, muttering at both of us for being fools.

After consultation, it was agreed that I had actually won the fight, but that it was inconclusive. Despite that, Yngol agreed that we'd have Sorella available once the initial siege had been broken. From there it was going to be a long trip across Cyrodiil to Hammerfell. Discussions and plans done, it was agreed that a good meal before all this would not be a bad thing, and so a large venison roast made its' way to the hall. Before too long and too much mead, Yngol and I were again back to our normal selves. He pointed us in the direction of a hidden passage to Cyrodiil southeast of Fort Neugrad. Apparently scouts had found it once the intrigues in Cyrodiil got me involved, and we confirmed it was a good place for supply runs once we were ready for such a thing. Hopefully this wouldn't be the last good meal we had for a long time. I would have liked some flin.

The old woman confirmed it was from the fight, one of the creatures we'd destroyed had bitten her and poisoned her. It would not end well, unless I could head out and find ingredients for a potion. While searching for the necessary things, it became rather obvious to me that there was a portion of my education lacking that needed to be taken care of, and as soon as the time to devote to such pursuits was available, I would certainly start working on this alchemy thing.

That done, the old woman got a delirious Rigmor to drink said potion, and she fell into a deep slumber. From there, the woman told me a few stories, declined payment, and looked at me oddly. From there, our conversation took a strange turn of sorts, and I was left feeling anxious - something was amiss, and it was not helped by the fact that this woman seemed very matronly. I settled in the chair and promptly fell asleep.

Finally I woke up to Rigmor apparently having rid herself of whatever had taken hold of her, having a conversation with 'Allie' - I had forgotten to introduce myself in all the excitement last night. Once I was conscious, I stayed quiet for a bit while they talked; Allie was apparently an escaped or freed slave. Awkward in a few respects, but she didn't seem like someone who would have been enslaved by my brethren. Still seemed like a nice enough lady, but we were pressed for time, as we had no idea what else was between us and the fishing village to the south. We were cautioned against a few things, and we left promptly.

Until my name was called - I turned instinctively, and there was a very young woman, who seemed apologetic in some way as the door closed. It had to be a trap of some kind, and I re-entered the cottage carefully, only to find it utterly abandoned, save for a scrap of paper that said "I'm sorry" and a ring. Somehow, in the midst of all this a new Shout made itself known, as well as some manner of instinctive knowledge that it would protect Rigmor, and Rigmor alone.

Someone needed to come along with an explanation, and rapidly. perhaps there was an Elder Scroll that could explain this. In any event, the thoughts kept me occupied while we traveled further south, to a fishing village where we were greeted by several townspeople, one of who glared at me as if whatever sorrows had been inflicted were my fault. I was pointed to the local tavern, where Tendril Sethri was waiting.

Obviously, as the only other Dunmer on the island, Tendril was my responsibility. I sighed and asked him what the hell was going on, how had he gotten here, and more importantly where had he left his pants. The answer of course was Azura, a boat, and he had forgotten. I prayed for merciful Azura to send this man some brains for his head. If she was fresh out, a rock would not go amiss. Lacking that, trousers. I dug in my pack, and did not find a rock, but I did have spare trousers - and advised him that he could put them on, or I could beat him unconscious and put them on for him. If he chose the second option, he would be well advised to not count on having the entirety of his wedding tackle upon awakening.

I was grumpy, but not that grumpy.

He put the pants on, and proceeded to explain what he knew courtesy of Azura. Short version, Molag Bal was planning his version of the Great Anguish, only this time the Emperor was going to be helpful, and the invasion force was going to come from Akavir. Which explained all the strange folk in Blades armor who had been causing unholy grief for the past few days. I held up a hand and advised him that if there was some mad prophecy wherein only we or I could do a damn thing about it, there had better be a bottle of sujamma to wash the news down with.

There was. Another mad damned prophecy with me playing the part of hero, and rigmor would be designated as the Empress of Cyrodiil. Did the Aedra and Daedra plan this? I will swear they did, and they of course had to pick me as the lynchpin. I wasn't quite retiring in three days, but certainly I was living comfortably and would have had a great preference to retain a lifestyle that I had earned, and certainly Rigmor would have preferred to remain anonymous as possible. I exhaled, swore, and confirmed that it sounded insane, but this newest prophecy was going to be the last one I was going to deal with. Once it was over, I was going back to Falkreath with my house, my children, and closing up shop. Maybe to study alchemy.

But apparently that wasn't all. The prophecy also confirmed that we needed to go to Hammerfell, invade Morag Sethius' domain, and destroy the living soul gem from whence she retained her youth. Said destruction would be in the hands of Sorella - Jarl Yngols' daughter. Literally. He was going to have a right few words to say about it.

I was rather pointedly explaining this to Tendril when the alarm was raised, and there was a greater attack happening on the village. I sighed and did a great deal of cleaving, while Sethri in pants was able to summon several helpful creatures. After defending the town, Tendril said he had to go take care of a few things on the island and make sure we were clear, meanwhile we needed to get on the nearest boat and get to Dawnstar. I did not require a second request, and we hopped on the nearest boat in time to see an Imperial ship on the near horizon. Not good.

Making things worse, the weather had turned against us, so the options were getting lowered. Fighting wasn't a great option on water ever, given the tendency to sink. At this point, our best bet was to hide below and let the ship pass us.

And that was a great idea right up until we got boarded and our presence was requested on the other ship. On the up side, it wasn't imperial troops. On the down side, it was an imperial ship. I made my way amidships, taking a long look at everyone - not exactly threatening, but calculating. We made our way to the captains' cabin to find, of all people, Casius. It was a very odd reunion, because the last I'd heard of him he was working for the East Empire Company as a captain. Apparently they'd declared him missing and presumed to have turned pirate, after which he and his ship were no longer welcome in port. After which, he'd become a pirate.

Certainly a career change for a former Legate. But rather fortunate, as according to what he'd seen there were at least 2 ships looking for us. That wasn't good, and it got worse when one of them showed up behind us looking for trouble. Or loot. From the look of it, it was another imperial ship, but since we were lacking a flag to fly, they were looking to give us trouble. They did in fact give us trouble, but at the same time we gave them quite a bit more and after a rather pitched battle, we were able to claim the ship. The captains' cabin was well secured, however a few moments with a lockpick and it was not secured. From there, we entered to find a very unhappy captain swearing that we'd all hang right up until three of us put arrows in him.

Markarth, Skyrim, Saturdas 13 Mid Year 4 e 203

My dear friend,

I hope you are well and healthy. It's been many years since our last meeting and I apologize for neglecting our relationship. You have certainly sent letters to my old address, but I should have warned you of my plan to move to Skyrim. Indeed, I settled in this beautiful province to study its history and culture. There is currently a civil war between the soldiers of the Empire and nationalist rebels, supported by Thalmor supremacists. But do not worry, they have enough honor and respect for human life to kill each other on battlefields, far from the cities populated by civilians. There are rumors that they count the number of dead on each side and the first team to lose 1,000 soldiers will be defeated. If it is true, this inspiration is awfully demonic.

I live in Markarth, an ancient city built by the dwarves. I have two sons, Blaise and Alesan. Their biological parents are dead and I decided to adopt them. Blaise worked as a stable boy and Alesan delivered food to the miners. These boys are quick-witted. I offered Blaise a wooden sword and he takes fencing lessons from the housecarl. He wants to become a hireling to protect me during my archaeological excavations. I told him it would save 500 septims per mission, but he replied that his set price will be 600 septims, including for family. Alesan spends a lot of time in museums, studying Dwemer artifacts. He wants to be a clan or tonal architect. I told him that these jobs no longer existed. He replied that all art can be rediscovered. He is right. Precisely, I think I discovered an old profession I called "the climate architect".

The town of Markarth is unique because, unlike other Dwemer cities, it has many exterior buildings. According to the book Dwemer Inquiries vol 1, the clan architects usually built the residences underground and the storehouse rooms near the surface. So, I guess Markarth was a Market. Merchants sold high-tech products to customers who were not allowed to enter much deeper. The shops had funny objects like magic staves that could randomly invoke Animunculi (I found one, it's awesome). This article was to be extremely popular with children who settled their differences by pouring oil from their fighting machines. Most of the gadgets were probably designed by engineers and tonal architects from Arkngthamz, a research center near the city. In addition, according to the story “The Snow Elf and the Variation-Lens”, they frequently used dwarven oil. My question is: how did they get their supplies of dwarven oils, an ingredient with the same alchemical properties as the taproot?

I recently discovered a wheat farm and an artificial forest created underground, near Arkngthamz. In the farm, there were bladed centurions for harvest and mechanical horses that probably pulled the wheel to plow the fields. In the artificial forest, spriggan trees had been planted to harvest the sap, which, according to my hypothesis, was an ingredient used to make dwarven oil. In addition, this complex had a cold room containing blocks of ice and a hot room filled with hot larvae. These two rooms were connected to a main room with a giant dwarven spider called the Weather Witch. In my opinion, a climate architect was responsible for the management of these high-tech rooms and the programming of the dwarven spider which maintained an optimal temperature. This vegetation was thus protected from droughts, floods, animal diseases and other natural causes considered as the whims of Mundus, the world architect. But something worse happened. Maybe certain data offended the Weather Witch or the Dwemers disappearance affected it. Anyway, the spider went "crazy" and triggered a climate change on the surrounding cities. Fortunately, I managed to deactivate this infernal machine and end the disaster.

I hope you can come and visit us in Markarth. We will discuss our discoveries at greater length. I must go to the College of Winterhold because I have important deliveries for the library and the enchantment service. In the meantime, send your letters to this address.

Your friend,

Azerty