Of Love and Politics

Part of High Rock is Cool, with /u/Sythirius, /u/Zinitrad, and /u/Not_Provided.

[This was printed in the Wayrest paper two weeks prior by order of the King to mock the Court of Daggerfall and its King specifically. The participants in this letter, Vorst Infernus Weard (Traveling Scholar) and Noulese Provilaise (Court Mage), have been unavailable for comment on these matters, and have not officially declared that this was either code for something else or entirely true in all accounts.]

To The King of Wayrest,

While investigating the Court of Daggerfall, I came upon and eavesdropped this dicussion between a young scholar and a court magician. At first, I thought it would wield much results. Instead, it was only a guise of insults and strange remembrances. This demonstrates the true nature of Daggerfall's codeword system; clearly they are conversing in clever-talk, but I know our diplomats should be able to decipher it. Maybe you'll enjoy it.

Sincerely, Your Spy

Noulese: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT! WHAT IS A BABY!

Vorst: WHY DID YOU GIVE HIM AWAY?!

Noulese: WHO IS HIM? THIS IS NOT THE [?] GIRLS!

Vorst: MIKHAIL WEARD-PROVILAISE. THAT IS WHO HE IS!

Noulese: MIKHAIL IS DERIVED FROM THE JEHANNAN "MAKHEIL" BY WAY OF THE NORTHERN COAST FISHING CULTURE. WHY WOULD AN ILIAC MALEFICAR NAME A CHILD THAT? CHECKMATE, WEARD!

Vorst: MY FAMILY IS DESCENDED FROM THAT FISHING CULTURE YOU MOCK, NOULESE.

Noulese: IMPOSSIBLE! YOUR SKIN TONE AND EYE COLOR ARE CLEARLY WROTHGARIAN, PROBABLY NOMADIC HERDSMEN.

Vorst: WE DECIDED TO NAME HIM THAT TO HONOR HIS GRANDFATHER. YOU THINK YOU TRULY KNOW MY HERITAGE? WHERE IS MY SON?!

Noulese: IN A PIG'S PEN WITH YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER, GOOD SIR!

Vorst: GAH. THAT NIGHT WITH YOU IS MY GREATEST PAIN. YOU SHOULD'VE USED THAT DIRENNI MAGICK TO PREVENT THIS!

Noulese: DON'T SPEAK TO ME OF IDIOTIC DIRENNI SPELLCRAFT. HOUSE AROUET ESPOUSES ONLY SCHOOLS DESCENDED FROM THE TRADITIONS OF THE ILIAC CITY-WITCHES AND THE IMPERIAL COLLEGE.

Vorst: HA! SO YOU DON'T DENY IT? TO DENY YOUR OWN OFFSPRING–

Noulese: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU LUNATIC OF A MAN. I MERELY DENIED THE VALIDITY OF DIRENNI SUPREMACY IN MAGERY.

Vorst: WITHOUT DENYING THAT NIGHT, HOWEVER. I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WERE SUCH A PERFORMER OF THE DIBELLAN ACTS.

Noulese: WHICH NIGHT? THE ONE WHERE YOU DISGRACED YOURSELF IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WAYREST ACADEMY, OR THE ONE WHERE I TROUNCED YOU IN A PUBLIC DEBATE ON THE SUBJECT OF DUNLISH HEDGE-WIZARDRY?

Vorst: HA, REALLLY? I WOULD EXPECT SUCH INSULTS FROM ONE WHO DOESN'T EVEN WHAT A BABY IS, DESPITE CARRYING OURS FOR NINE MONTHS.

Noulese: AND WHEN EXACTLY DO YOU THINK THIS OCCURRED, HMM?

Vorst: REMEMBER OUR EXPEDITION TO CRAGLORN? AND THOSE FUNNY REDGUARDS GAVE US DRINKS? AND WHEN WE WOKE UP, I SEEM TO RECALL MY FACE WAS RIGHT NEAR YOUR–

(Noulese smacks Vorst, who quickly recovers.)

Noulese: I CERTAINLY REMEMBER YOU INTRUDING ON A DIPLOMATIC MISSION TO CRAGLORN, YOU MORON! AND YES, I MOST DEFINITELY REMEMBER ACCEPTING TEA FROM A RA'GADA PRIEST THAT MAY HAVE HAD A MILD HALLUCINOGENIC EFFECT. PERHAPS THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE REFERRING TO, NO? THE FEVER DREAM OF A YOKUDAN RITUAL?

Vorst: HA, HALLUCINOGENIC EFFECT? HALLUCINATIONS DON'T GET PREGNANT MY DEAR NOULESE!

Noulese: PERHAPS MORWHA WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING, DEAR VORST. POSSIBLY THAT YOU SHOULDN'T SPEND SO MUCH TIME ALONE IN YOUR BED?

Vorst: I THINK YOU SHOULD BE LISTENING TO YOUR OWN WORDS, MY DEAR; THERE'S A REASON WHY YOU ARE KNOWN AS THE COLDEST TONGUE OF THE ILIAC.

Noulese: I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW I HAVEN'T BEEN TO BED IN THREE DAYS! TOO MUCH MAGIC TO DO, I'M SURE YOU UNDERSTAND. MALEFICARUM OF SUCH PRESTIGE AS MYSELF HAVE LITTLE TIME FOR LUXURY.

Vorst: AH YES, TO MUCH MAGIC TO DO. I'M QUITE SURE YOU USE MANY MAGICAL DEVICES FOR YOUR PLEASURE WHEN YOU ARE ALONE!

(Vorst gets down on one knee. Noulese calls the royal guard, hoping they aren't busy foiling another goddamned assassination attempt. They are.)

Vorst: NOULESE...

(Noulese casts a silence spell on Vorst. Vorst grabs some paper and quill from the table, and writes this.)

Vorst: BY THE GODS, I THINK...I THINK I'M FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU, COLD TONGUE OF THE ILIAC.

(Noulese looks flustered, shocked, outraged, surprised, and strangely happy all at once. She blushes.)

Noulese: I-I-I DON'T. I CAN'T HANDLE THIS RIGHT NOW!

(Noulese leaves the room abruptly, leaving Vorst there alone.)

[Article ends.]