Mundus in Miniature

Janus Gelasius

Presented before the General Congress of the Society for Cyrodiilic Antiquities

22 Second Seed, 3E 346

Ammianus Hall, University of Nibenay

A great deal of debate has arisen recently regarding the subterranean nature of the Ayleid settlements found throughout Cyrodiil. Why, it is often asked, would a society so utterly fixated on the heavens, so enthralled by the majesty of pure aetheric energies, choose to dwell beneath the surface, separated from the object of their veneration? This line of inquiry is, in my opinion, quite representative of the advances made in the field of Ayleid scholarship in recent years. For centuries, it was taken as a fact in both popular and scholarly circles that the Ayleids were subterranean society by their very nature. This assumption we now know is fatally flawed, and had its origins in both ignorance and anti-merrish bias. The Alessian Order was, of course, responsible for the greatest portion of the intentional destruction of Ayleid sites, and under their auspices much of value to the scholar was irreparably lost. This includes not only the structures themselves, but also their contents, as anyone who has attempted to study Ayleid texts or material culture may attest. It is thus unsurprising that the scholars of the Second and early Third Eras, deprived of both physical and textual evidence of large-scale surface settlements, initially labored under the belief that the ruins they found were broadly representative of the ordinary mode of Ayleid life.

The other source of belief in a principally subterranean Ayleid society was far less benign. The (quite understandable) animus that existed toward the Ayleids, and mer in general, following the revolts of Alessia and the rise of the order named after her led to the general demonization of the Ayleids in Cyrodiilic culture, an attitude that persists, to some degree, to this day. The characterization of their culture as subterranean played into this process of demonization. No doubt many of you, like me, grew up hearing bedtime stories about the cruel and cunning Wild Elves, inhabitants of the deep forests and caves, who would creep about in the shadows, wanting nothing more than to snatch naughty children from their homes. These were simple tales meant to frighten children into good behavior, of course, but the presence of numerous underground ruins lent such stories the air of truth. Furthermore, by painting the Ayleids as a subterranean people, they were associated in the popular consciousness with the Dwemer, another group of mer who have been often misunderstood and demonized.

It is now common knowledge that the Ayleids built extensively both above and below ground. Their surface settlements were often arranged in the form of a spoked wheel, surrounded by smaller circular structures. Fine examples of this plan may be found at Ceytatar and Sardavar Leed, as well as in modified form at Miscarcand and Nenalata. The most famous and visible settlement of this type, of course, is the Imperial City itself. Being the largest and most important Ayleid city, it likely served as the model for all the other sites constructed in this manner. This particular form, as others, including Prescius and Onton, have noted, is notable in its reflection of Ayleid concepts of metaphysics and cosmology, and I encourage the interested reader to consult their works for a thorough and captivating exploration of this topic.

In spite of these extensive and elaborate surface works, it is undeniable that the Ayleids were also keen and accomplished subterranean architects. We thus return to our original inquiry: why would a people who so venerated the aetheric energies that were transmitted to them through the Sun and stars willingly choose to sunder themselves from those energies? Based upon my own work, as well as that of my esteemed colleagues, I have come to the conclusion that the Ayleids were aiming, through the structure of their settlements, to mirror and recreate their conception of Mundus. I have already mentioned the manner in which the form of their surface edifices mirrored their conceptualization of the world as a wheel, a topic explored in greater depth by scholars far abler than I, but their below-ground works have, thus far, passed largely outside the attention of the scholarly community in this matter. I aim to rectify this oversight.

Consider the relation the Ayleids saw between Mundus and Aetherius. While the exact doctrines and beliefs of the ancient mer are largely unknown to us, again thanks to the work of the Alessian Order, they seemed to have view Aetherius as an ideal, a perfect realm separated from the baser material world of Mundus. The Sun and stars were the filter that allowed light, the pure product of Aetherius, to pass into the lower sphere. The flight of Magnus and his cohorts was, to the Ayleid mind, not an act of cowardice or malice, but of providence and love, providing the world of Magnus’ devising with access, however limited, to the higher, more excellent realm. The structuring of subterranean Ayleid sites is, in a sense a reflection of this providential act. The Ayleids intentionally created a darkened space, ruled by the three lesser elements, then, in their replication of the magnanimous actions of Magnus, brought pure, untainted light into that space, “improving” it in the same way that Magnus himself improved Mundus. This is why the original occupants of these ruins lit the spaces only through magical means, including their famous Welkynd stones. They were replicating, in miniature, the mundane world below the surface, and that meant that it was necessary for them to provide their demiurgic creation with the proper aetheric energies. This replication also allowed the Ayleids to symbolically take on the roles of the Aedra when they descended into their subterranean space, ruling over the subjugated mannish population as gods. Of course, they also ruled over the slaves in a god-like manner on the surface, but that was a matter of mere practicality. It was in their underground structures that their actions took on mythical dimensions.

Some, of course, have assigned the subterranean constructions of the Ayleids a far more prosaic explanation. My most revered and capable colleague, Florentius Sorex, for instance, has described them as originating in the desire of the Ayleids to maximize the amount of arable land available, as well as to obtain for themselves more temperate living conditions, citing the relatively constant temperature and humidity of the sites as evidence. To this, I can only respond that the ruins display features that reflect, in my opinion, a clear connection with the religious beliefs of their inhabitants, a connection that extends far beyond mere climate control. Unlike him, I refuse to write off the pervasive usage of magical lighting, for instance, as a mere cultural whimsy, born of sorcerous pride. Frankly, such a casual and, if I may say, thoughtless explanation does a disservice to this magnificent society and to all those who choose to study it. The Ayleids were a thoughtful people who, as far as we can tell, integrated their understanding of the world around them into every aspect of their lives, including, as I have just demonstrated, their splendid architectural works.