Tales of Old Tamriel # 8: Our Lady Hestra

Editor's note: The following piece of lore is from a larger collection called Tales of Old Tamriel. Its exact origin is unknown, but some claim the library shelf containing the collection first appeared in the Imperial Library during the Middle Dawn, and has some connection to the blue star Mnemoli. Interestingly, many of these texts refer to events from the Second, Third and Fourth eras! When asked about this, the Moth Priests simply shrugged and informed me that compared to the mysteries of the Elder Scrolls and the Ysmir Collective, a magical bookshelf that contains historically misplaced lore is one of the less unusual things in the Library. When pressed for more information, I was politely informed that the Priests were too busy to address my concerns. Thus, I transcribed the stories and left with many unanswered questions. Perhaps future scholars can discover the true origin of these stories, which largely center around the lesser-known periods and rulers of history.

An Accounting of the Acquisition of the Reach Kingdoms of Adalrik, Iona, Rafferty and Balfour in the auspicious year of our Lord - 1030 as recorded by the Legate Clodius of the Legion of Akatosh's Blinding Rage.

Prologue - Hestra defeats the Council and the Heathens

Our Lady won the first battle of this campaign before she ever left the Imperial Palace. The Imperial Council had strongly opposed her expansionist policies after the compounding military losses of previous centuries and Emperors, who had done much to tarnish the image of the Empire and our beliefs. Hestra had become very popular at home and abroad for her crushing victory over King Styriche, that wicked old vampire lord of Verkarth. She had long eyed the Reach for its rich natural resources and strategic location near the hostile Nords, but her victory in bringing High Rock into the Empire swayed the majority of the Consuls in her favor, and her grumbling critics had to concede the resources and men they hoarded to the Dragon Queen in the summer of 1029.

Our legendary victory in the Kingdom of Dunlain is recounted in Baltazar's seminal volume "The End of Tyranny". This account is much more eloquent than anything this humble soldier could put to parchment, and I would recommend it to visitors to the Imperial Library. Needless to say, our efforts in driving the heathen Daedra worshipers from the hills and crags of eastern High Rock helped cement our reputation in the North West of the continent. The Breton kings pledged their forces as support for our campaign to secure the Eastern Reach, therefore building a mighty bulwark against the growing anti-Alessian sentiment in the petty kingdoms of the Nords.

Empress Hestra studied the culture of the Reach extensively before committing the full might of her personal Legion towards military action. Our Blessed Lady has always displayed wisdom and foresight in her dealings with the less enlightened cultures of Tamriel. The Witch-Warriors of Dunlain had been die hard Daedric cultists, often sacrificing children to Namira and Molag Bal in broad daylight under the accursed statues of these dark daemons. They met our ambassadors only with barbed arrows and curses in their barbarian tongue, so they had to be cut down in the efficient fashion our Lady favors. The city and all surrounding farms were burnt to the ground. Every man who refused to surrender was put to the sword. Such fell this blight upon the land of the Bretons, and their civilized cousins who accepted the enlightened teachings of the One rejoiced, and the vile savagery of Dunlain will not be missed.

Chapter 1 - Markarth and Iona - Like Day and Night

Our Lady sent delegations next to the city called Markarth, built upon the foundation of old Dwemer stone work. Its rulers were far more accommodating, but cautious. They expressed interest in our religion, our culture and the benefits of joining the Empire, but they warned that their barbaric cousins would need to be convinced through a show of strength. I personally rode out to Markarth with my Lady to meet the Queen of Markarth and her inner council. I found my stay there to be not altogether unpleasant.

These people clearly followed foreign ways and heathen gods, but they were friendly hosts.The Queen wore an elaborate head-dress of feathers, and was surrounded by several Totems, depicting primal animal gods of some sort. Her body guards were tall, muscular men tattooed from head to toe in several tribal designs. I counted one among them who may have been part Orc. I was told that that Orcs and other Goblin-Ken had joined forces with the Reachmen after the fall of their mockery of a kingdom called Orsinium - one of the few enlightened things the Bretons and Redguards had managed in the absence of Imperial rule. As the One teaches us: "We must unite against the malicious and the brutish, the miscreated -- the Orcs, trolls, goblins, and other worse creatures -- and not strive against one another."

Alas, for Daedra-loving savages! Having renounced their essential humanity and compassion for their fellow man, the kingdoms of Adalrik, Iona, Rafferty and Balfour have brought down the scaled fist of God upon them. The irony is that the Nords themselves - whose ancient Atmoran beliefs first taught us of the glories of the One - have renounced the gentle and civilized teachings of our faith in favor of the heathen Elven gods. We would likely receive no aid or welcome from the likes of them, who eyed the Reach themselves with jealous eyes, longing for the silver and gold seam of those hills. Silver and Gold that belongs rightfully to the glorious Empire of Nibenay - true rulers of this world by divine right! All songs of praise and glory for the Empire and its Dragon Queen! Woe be to the benighted foes of this eternal Empire! Huzzah!

Bolstered by our Breton allies and our new friendship with Markarth, we marched our growing army forth early in the spring of 1030 - the most Auspicious Year - east across the Karth River to face the shrieking heathens of Iona. According to old intelligence reports from the sixth century and confirmed by the Queen of Markarth, this tribe worshiped Hircine religiously and fervently. As we marched deeper into their territory we began to see their profane totems along the sides of their ill-kept roads. Grisly, sharpened spikes with goat and elk heads unceremoniously impaled on top. Piles of skulls and other human bones. Their scouts watched us from the hills and crags, and occasionally they attempted ambushes, but were always beaten back by our superior numbers and discipline.

I observed that our foes were scantily clad in smelly fur armors. They wielded primitive, pitiful stone and wooden weapons. I've only seen the likes of these once before, in an exhibition of ancient Keptu and Kothringi relics at a museum back home. I can only conclude that these ignorant, hard-headed people have refused to evolve culturally one small iota since the first Humans arrived on Tamriel. They are very much relics of a bygone time, and the Legion had arrived to finally push them back into prehistory where they belonged. They spoke no discernible Tamrielic that I could tell, but instead uttered guttural animal sounds while attacking and while dying. Truly, how such a culture could have survived for thousands of years without imploding into utter anarchy baffles me. The Princes of Misrule must have gifted these savages with some sort of preternatural survival ability. The One conquers all, however. The Sun will set on their "Old Ways".

On the tenth day of marching we arrived before the so-called kingdom of Iona. A surprise attack was out of the question. Owing to the terrain and their admittedly adept scouting efforts, they knew we were there. Some hundreds swarmed around what I could only describe as a huge camp consisting of hundreds of animal skin tents, with one large Longhouse in the middle, heavily guarded by rows of stout wooden walls. I quickly surmised this well-guarded bulding was the dwelling of their so-called "King". The strategum was therefore simple and obvious. The Legion would punch straight through the defenders of this dwelling, slay the King, take his head and burn the Longhouse to the ground. Along the way we would overturn and destroy any temples to the foul Daedra called Hircine, and specifically target any shamans or mystics attempting to put foul curses upon us.

The resistance proved slightly more fierce than anticipated, but the savages were soon pushed back before our spear walls. We easily pierced their simple furs with the mighty bronzed spears of the Niben, blessed by the Alessian Priesthood to be especially effective against the forces of evil. Their stone arrows and barbed axes failed to penetrate our treated Newtscale armor - the finest in Tamriel. Gifts from the River Drakes of Rumare, turned against the savages of the North. As our battering rams burst through the last wall of his palace, the savage King appeared. He barked something in what passed for a language among the Reachmen, and two foul Daedra appeared at his side - summoned from Oblivion itself! I was caught off guard as the wicked longsword of the nearer daemon splintered the shaft of my spear and punched through my studded leather shield, but alas for this wicked denizen of the Void his spiked blade was stuck. I deftly unsheathed my gladius and stabbed the monster through its foul neck. Huzzah!

I turned to face the Reach King, who was wearing a savage cloak of animal skins and a huge pair of antlers atop his unwashed head. He grinned at me, uttering a silent prayer to his foul god, and his body began to distort. Before my very eyes his limbs elongated and his body began to grow a thick coat of fur. By the One, he was becoming a werewolf! The spectacle of his dark transformation was his undoing, however, as it was a showy affair and left him completely vulnerable to attack. I signaled for my archers to attack, and he was soon riddled with arrows. We hewed his foul lupine head from his shoulders and put it up on a pike. Immediately upon seeing their leader fall, the remaining savages lost heart and abandoned their city, fleeing into the wilds, screaming. Those left behind were bound and lined up. We gave them a choice. Lay down their lands and their heathen god and join the Empire, or face the One in the next life. The few who chose wisely were baptized in the fashion of Nibenay by our Clerics, and re-outfitted with more civilized attire - although I must say I prefer the face tattoos of Bravil to those of the Reach.

We cleared out the foul-smelling tents of their shattered settlement and began to clear some forest land for the foundation of our settlement- Fort Sungard. This would be Lady Hestra's headquarters as she planned her assault on the remaining, stronger Reach kingdoms of Adalrik, Rafferty and Balfour. Smaller military settlements were established on the road between Fort Sungard and Markarth, including Camp Hrol'don. Corporal Salvius began to conscript Markarthian farmers to expand the fields outside the capital city to feed the swelling Legions, bolstered by recent arrivals from High Rock.

Chapter 2 - Our allies and enemies in the Reach

Within two months, the Fort had become a bustling population center of its own. I supervised the training of the Breton and Markarthian troops, and helped fend off several half-hearted attacks by Orcs and unaffiliated hill-people savages. The Reachmen who had joined our forces were beginning to learn some basic Tamrielic, and our linguists were able to work together with our cartographers to present our Empress with a more comprehensive view of the Reach.

The kingdoms we had conquered already were Dunlain - farther West in the lands of the Bretons - and Iona. Dunlain had been weak due to its isolation from the other Daedra-loving Reachmen, and a series of droughts and plagues in recent years. Iona had fallen out of favor with their cousins in the more prosperous Markarth. This was the reason for the apparent ease of our military victory here. Their defense had been half-hearted at best.

I was informed that there had initially been ten independent Kingdoms in the Reach, but a series of civil wars in the preceding centuries had reduced the number, and now all that remained of the non-hostile kingdoms were Markarth -our ally - and neutral kingdom called Karthwasten located farther up the river.

East of Karthwasten was a kingdom called Adalrik whose people apparently all lived in tall towers and who employed witch- warriors proficient in ranged combat. We prepared special tactics for storming these towers, with the help of our Battlemage, Rimsin Tharn.

Deep in the foothills of the mountains to the west, over the ruins of an old Nordic city, the Reachmen had built a city-state called Balfour. Many Orcs and Centaurs lived here, and it is said that their warriors used hawks as messengers and instruments of war. Lady Hestra suggested the use of subterfuge and confusion to take this settlement down, due to its natural defenses.

Farther up the river - near the old Dragon Bridge - was a mighty kingdom which often raided the Nordic hold of Haafingar. This kingdom was called Rafferty, and it was said to be the oldest surviving Reach kingdom east of the Karth Mountains. In recent decades it had expanded immensely and swallowed up several of its enemy states. Not only were its foot soldiers disciplined and brave, but it had mastered the arts of cavalry, and had an alliance with the Giant tribes of the Reach, led by the impudent Gormtaag the Rune-Speaker. A breed of wild draft horse had been domesticated by this mighty culture as well, and they used them to build their cavalry, which reachmen usually did not possess in any great numbers.

As our forces grew around Fort Sungard and the Spring wore on, the rains sat in, making it difficult to move troops and resources up the road. We knew that if we waited too long into the Summer months, however, we may encounter droughts and diminishing supplies. The assault on Adalrik would have to commence soon if we were to succeed at all, and not lose what little ground we had already gained. Their scouts had already been spied north along the horizon, riding on rugged mountain steeds. Hestra had once against demonstrated wisdom and foresight by sending out letters to both Karthwasten and Adalrik, inviting them to join the Empire. No response ever came from Adalrik, but Karthwasten sent an envoy to inspect our camps and meet our Lady. This short, swarthy man wore a goatskin tunic and a rather large mustache, and he squinted in the sun. He seemed pleased with what he saw and what he heard. He accepted gifts from the Imperial Cultural Commission, and offered military support in our campaign against Adalrik. When we asked the old man if they would also help with Balfour, he only shrugged and grinned, saying "We'll see" in his heavy Reach accent.

Chapter 3 - Of Towers and Beasts

During a break in the wet season we sat out swiftly across the hills north of Fort Sungard to assault the towers of Adalrik. We camped south of their border and planned a night attack, feeling that the natural advantage of their line of sight would be diminished somewhat at night. We underestimated the abilities of their Shamans and Mystics, however, and we suffered unexpected losses as we assaulted the first cluster of towers. When we consulted our Battlemage, he informed us that they had likely anticipated our strategy, and their alchemists had brewed potions of Night-Eye for their archers and war wizards. Six nights in a row we assaulted the Towers, and six nights in a row we failed. Our troops were becoming demoralized and our Karthwasten allies were nowhere to be seen.

On the seventh night, we tried one last assault, dividing our forces. Our Battlemage even summoned a Daedra or two, although our Clerics frowned upon such behavior. Still, the arrows and ice spikes of the Adalrikians rained down on us and forced us to retreat back to a safe distance. Suddenly, a shriek was heard in the night, and dark shapes descended upon the towers from above. Panic apparently set in as torch lights flickered within the towers, then went out. The sounds of fighting gradually died down. At dawn we approached the first Tower, unsure of what had transpired. Apparently some winged creatures had attacked and killed the defenders of this Tower cluster. I personally suspected Winged Twilights or Gargoyles, but when the gate opened we were greeted by the sight of the little old man from Karthwasten, flanked by several cheerful looking fellows with goatskin hats and long mustaches. When I asked him where his daedra went, he laughed and said "That was us, young man. We're Were-Vultures, you see. We waited until you had 'em cocky, and we swooped in from behind."

Having this ability at our advantage now, and praying to the One for forgiveness for employing heathen Hircine worshipers in our strategum (Hestra assures me that even such foul things can serve the One), we systematically dismantled their Towers one by one, starting on the outer edges of their hills and working our way inwards, towards their capital - a large fortress on the road between Karthwasten and the Nordic hold of Falkreath. The locals called it "Broken Tower" and claim that it was ruled over by a Lich and a council of Hagravens. The Holy Legions fear no man, beast or bonewalker and heeded not these tales. With the help of our Karthwasten allies we easily crushed this last fortress much like the others, and indeed we did encounter a coven of witches, but their supposed lich king was a mere effigy of Hircine, which we sat ablaze and threw their foul old corpses into. Their black blood seeped into the ground there and I'd be surprised if anything ever grew on that spot again. Hagravens must surely be the most vile and wicked things to ever set foot upon Mundus, but no monster fails to fall under the might of Nibenean steel.

Our gracious hosts at Karthwasten allowed us to set up forts along its western walls as we prepared our assault on the vile kingdom of Balfour. Our clerics attempted to bring the people of Karthwasten over to the Imperial religion, but we didn't push too hard, as we still needed their support and their land to stage our final assaults on the hostile Reach kingdoms. If Balfour and Rafferty did not know we were here before, they certainly did now, and they were most unhappy with our progress.

A tribe of Centaurs stormed down from the hills near the ancient Lover standing stone to harry our farmers and miners near Markarth, and had to be beaten back into the hills by militiamen, as our main army was nearly a hundred miles deeper into the Reach. This sort of planning was not previously attributed to their kind, but we quickly learned not to underestimate the beast people of Balfour. We spent some weeks building up our military might in the valleys leading up to their kingdom, even importing Stegodons and Rhinos from Nibenay in a show of force. Hestra herself rode up to inspect the troops, seated atop a Stegadon adorned in golden armor. She was the very picture of Nibenean beauty. Dark, with fiercely intelligent eyes and tattooed head to toe with holy symbols. Her only armor was an Ayleid gauntlet upon her left hand, with the Chim-El Adabal imbedded within. On her right hand she wore the Calla Lily, the symbol of her office and of her divine descent from Dibella - the aspect of the One concerned with art, music and culture.

As the heathen beast folk and hopelessly mixed-bred mongrel humanoids of Balfour rained down barbed arrows and wicked falcons upon Hestra's main force, my own small force secretly had infiltrated the tunnels leading through the old Nordic city this foul nest of monsters was built upon. It was actually a Goblin tribe who had betrayed their own kind, claiming they'd join the Empire if we protected them from some imagined evil of their primitive religion. The little brutes apparently believed some form of albino, sightless Elf was dwelling deep below the ground and would someday rise to displace their culture. Primitive superstition and nothing more, I am sure. They'd even been sacrificing their own infants to appease these supposed "Deep Ones", a practice the One abhors. We thanked them for their help, and accepted their maps. We then promptly slaughtered them all in the name of the One.

What the little brutes had failed to mention was that the ancient tunnels were filled to the brim with gigantic spiders and the walking dead. My men were taken off guard at first, but we made quick work of the dusty old bonewalkers and arachnids quickly enough, and burst out behind enemy lines, taking them completely off guard. By chance, we happened upon their reserves of whale oil, and I tipped massive barrels of the stuff over and had my war wizard set them ablaze. In the ensuing panic, we ran through their archers and falconers, and set their horses loose. Their front lines began to fall back, and Hestra's Stegodon cavalry ran them down. As we approached the summit of the Chieftan, the beast people began to chant "Volendrung! Volendrung!" A huge, cyclopean ogre appeared wielding a wicked looking warhammer the size of a person. This thing was clearly of Daedric make, and as the Ogre chieftain swung it in wide arcs, it ended the lives of several Breton Legionnaires. One of Hestra's own body guards strode up to face the chieftain in single combat. This giant of a man had minotaur blood, and easily parried the brute's blows with his own greatsword before swiftly decapitating the foul beast. With its dying breath it sputtered "Malooch?" and then the light faded from its large, catlike eye. Our clerics and war wizards were brought up to examine the hammer it had wielded, and deemed it a heretical thing of Oblivion. A holy ritual was performed to exercise the Daedric influence from the hammer, and as the dark spirit departed we flung holy light and silver arrows at its back, wounding it. The demon Malooch ran screaming into the East, sputtering blood of Ebony behind it, and all that remained of its warhammer was a rusted iron hammer of completely mundane make.

As we were preparing our victory celebrations, we were suddenly ambushed by one last hidden force of Beast people, primarily comprised of painted Orc savages. They tore into our encampment and began to cut down the men, many of whom were too drunk to defend themselves. I quickly grabbed my sword and rushed to defend my Lady, but at the last moment the Were-Vultures of Karthwasten arrived, swooping down to harry our Orcish attackers. We were able to come to our senses and rout them, finally ending the oppressive reign of the Beastpeople of Balfour. We thanked the little old man once again, and assured him he would be rewarded for his assistance.

Chapter Four - The Fourteenth Nedic Tactic

After this decisive victory, our forces rested up for one last assault. The dark kingdom of Rafferty certainly knew we were there by this point. They had attempted to strike first, leading a company south through the former Adalrik holdings, but they had been intercepted by Nord troops from Falkreath and Morthal, camping for their own conflict with Haafingar.

Apparently, despite having a common enemy in the kingdom of Solitude and its satellite colonies, the Reachmen and the Nords absolutely refuse to work together. News of this event reached our Lady's ears, and she sent delegates to attempt to win over the Nords, who promptly rejected us, spitting at our delegates' feet and declaring they'd never ally with Cyrodiils again. (We shall see about that, soon enough.)

It was actually our Empress' bodyguard Belzhazzar the half-Minotaur who proposed the brilliant strategy which would eventually win her the entire Reach. "We won't have to sack ther city at all, my Empress, if we employ the Fourteenth Nedic Tactic. According to an ancient proverb, what is now known as Atatar was ruled by a wicked Ayleid sorcerer king. His Nedic vassals attempted to rise up and depose him thirteen times, and failed each one. On the fourteenth attempt, a brilliant young strategist proposed a less direct approach - burn the farmsteads and granaries of all the poorer Ayleids of the area, and out of desperation they'd turn on their own Master. It worked. The sorcerer king was deposed by his own people, and then their starved and disoriented forces were routed by the Nedes. The young man who proposed this was named Bakari Tharn, and was elected High Battlemage of Nibenay for his cunning. I propose we use Bakari Tharn's tactic here. The Reach is entering into a dry season, and the king of Rafferty has been using up a lot of the crops of his lands to feed his troops in their wars against Solitude and its sister cities. I posit that if we burn some of the farmsteads along his borders in night raids, his own people will rise up and depose him out of desperation, and accept provisions from us instead. Not only will this remove a threat to the north, but it will gain us allies against Haafingar, Morthal and Falkreath if they decide to attack."

Hestra gave the go-ahead to enact this strategum, and thus the last real threat from the Reach was removed over the course of a few weeks. When the half-starved peasants left over from his kingdom appeared before us, they knelt at Hestra's feet, and were rewarded with inclusion into our glorious Empire, and plenty of food to eat. Some, however, were less grateful and could not see the beauty and compassion of the Mother of Dragons. Two minor rebellions that hardly deserve to be spoken of were swiftly put down. You may read hateful and ill-spun tales of barbarian reach kings who actually damaged our armies or personally wounded Hestra (of all the blasphemous ideas!) after our glorious and decisive victory at Rafferty. Don't you ever believe a word of it. We took the Reach with minimal bloodshed, and always attacked only after diplomacy failed. So the One has taught us, and so we obey. Our Lady Hestra is the very model of godly rule, and as she has only recently celebrated her forty-second birthday she likely has many more years left to grace us with her unparalleled beauty and wisdom.

Epilogue - Piracy and the Future

As I finish up this personal account of this glorious and decisive victory for our Eternal Empire, I have received news that I am to personally accompany my Lady into the darkest reaches of this continent - the savage lands of the lizard folk of the Southeast. There, we are to investigate rumors of a pirate lord named Red Bramman, and find out if he really has employed foreigners from distant and savage lands in slave raids along our coastal settlements. If these rat and dog men do turn out to exist, they will taste Imperial steel as well, and come to know of and fear the Dragonborn in all her glory. Onwards to our next victory, comrades! May the One and his Empire shine forever! E. Pluribus Unim!