3E 433, Morning Star

21 Morning Star, 433

Soulrest, Black Marsh

Stone-Carver Cuni-Rai sculpted away at the small but delicate lump of limestone on his working table. Usually he would not be awake this early in the morning, but he had received a special request – from the Royal Court itself – to fashion a beautiful statue for the King’s newly hatched son to mark the occasion.

So Cuni-Rai had stayed up all night working on the exact requirements the King had laid out for the statue, working extremely hard to get all of the measurements right, when he finally placed his head upon his palm and gazed at the finished product.

“It is everything I hoped it would be,” he remarked happily. “Hopefully the King believes so as well.” The Saxhleel carefully wrapped his creation in the strongest but softest of moss and wrapped his traveling cloak around himself as he left his hut of vines and hardened mud, his eyes adjusting to the glare of the sun.

“Today I shall honor my clan with this gift,” Cuni-Rai. “Today, my family’s disgrace shall finally end.”

24 Morning Star, 433

Skywatch, Summerset Isle

“Elf scum!” The Imperial slapped the flat of his sword against the right cheek of the young Altmer lad, causing his mouth to well up with blood. The lad yelped, spraying the blood unto the tiles of the secret underground chamber. He was bare-chested, and wore grungy pants that reeked of waste and vomit. His body was decorated with numerous fresh cuts and bruises, but the elf smiled arrogantly at his torturer.

“I told you I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The Imperial smacked the elf once again with the flat of his blade, sending his head colliding with the wall. The elf gasped and spat out more blood, before dragging himself back into a sitting position.

“You see, Ondolemar, that is where you are wrong,” the Imperial whispered. “We know that you and your friends have been stirring up trouble among your kind. Trying to boycott goods of the Empire. An Empire you are still a part of.”

Ondolemar smirked. “My allegiance is too Summerset, and Summerset alone, Imperial.”

The torturer swung his left fist upward and the elf, with his hands and feet chained, was unable to block the vicious attack as he was lifted into the air and crashed downwards on his back, his spine cracking.

“As a loyal Blade to the glorious Septim Empire, I order you to tell us the headquarters of your rebellion.”

The Imperial placed one heavy boot on Ondolemar’s heart, causing the lad to wheeze. “I’ll start cutting of pieces of you until you do.”

26 Morning Star, 433

Vivec, Vvardenfell, Morrowind

Lanla Tharys walked through the intimidating City of Canals, knowing fully well that her fellow Dunmer were watching her carefully.

Oh, how she missed her father! May his spirit rest and be respected eternally. He, like her brothers, would have never let someone make him nervous, even members of his own race. But Lanla was not her father. If she were, she wouldn’t even allow herself to be in the vicinity of this city.

She climbed the steps slowly to the Ministry of Truth, her eyes betraying her by gazing at the old and slightly dusty statues of Vivec, former member of the Tribunal. The Warrior-Poet had disappeared completely after the truth of the Tribunal’s divinity became exposed to all. The coward – he claimed to be a warrior but ran with his tail tucked between his legs when King Helseth’s men came knocking at his door.

Lanla reached the top of the steps and waited for the person she was meeting to show himself. It wasn’t long before a tall, grim Dunmer warrior came striding towards her in full Bonemold armor. He was rather handsome.

“Ah, dear lady,” the man said, extending his hand which Lanla shook. “You are Lanla Tharys, are you not?”

“I am. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise. I am Chakran, former Ordinator of the Tribunal Temple. Would you care to accompany me?”

“Certainly, Chakran.” Lanla smiled, and allowed Chakran to led the her one of the deserted hallways on the roof. After making sure no other souls were present, the warrior turned to look at her with a face full of anxiety.

“Are you ready? To do this, I mean. If we walk down this path—”

Lanla raised a hand, silencing him. She took a deep breathe, and exhaled. “I am sure, Chakran. Now, please inform me of your plan to kill the Nerevarine.”

29 Sun’s Dawn, 433

Senchal, Elsweyr

J’Marr quietly stalked Legate Eliza in the palm trees while she walked upon the road. Although he had his shoes endowed with an muffle enchantment several weeks ago, the Khajiit enforcer still watched his step – dodging branches, stepping over rocks, and shuffling past any wild beasts in his way.

It had been getting harder in Elsweyr, of all places, to sell Moon Sugar and Skooma for a reasonable price without being discovered by the wretched Imperials. The Emperor had reinforced the troops already in the city with more soldiers to keep the suddenly booming business from gaining too much influence.

J’Marr’s employer had become enraged by the Empire’s new interest in stopping the Skooma trade, and had decided in performing acts of sabotage among the ranks of the Imperial soldiers to destabilize their plans.

When Eliza began to approach her destination, Fort Palmtop, J’Marr walked casually out of the forest and moved up behind her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sack of the sweetest moon sugar. When he drew up close enough as he could, J’Marr quickly slipped the sack into her own pocket, and began to walk away when he heard a voice.

“What are you doing, fur ball?” she said in a dangerous tone, her hand subconsciously reaching for her sword.

J’Marr smiled. “This one hasn’t doing anything.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This one hasn’t done anything at all.”