World Unmade - Thedorus Mallus

The following letter was left at the grave of Vala Rikford in Green Emporer Way, pinned under an Imperial Soldier's helm. The discovery of the letter in 4E 175 led to the immediate discharge of Mallus from the Legion, though he was long departed at the time.

My Dearest Vala,

I sit here still clad in this wretched facade of Imperial loyalty, only memories and a fresh slab of stone to serve as your face. I never saw your remains. You were dead before The Red Ring rang, buried here in the shadow of White-Gold by a few brave friends, and little Finna. Such a brave girl.

Never has this blade felt so heavy, this mail so much like the chains of some dank prison. I despise every moment it touches my flesh, but I have nothing else to wear but my grief. Everything was burned, our home made a shell. I hope to whatever filthy gods there are that you were spared at least that.

When we stormed the gates, I'd been drunk on hope and glory. The elves were surrounded. My fellow legionnaires and I slew enough to fill the Arena thrice over. Even after the news of your death and Finna's disappearance, I at least knew you hadn't died for nothing. We could drive back the witch-elves, wipe them off of Tamriel. Justice could be forged from the darkness.

Look at it, that tower, scorched and blackened. That is what you died for, my Vala. That smouldering wreck, a beacon of cowardice and deceit. Titus Mede II, a heroic man I'd once thought. A weaker man has never sat the Ruby Throne. We were winning! We could have avenged you, Finna, all of them. The unworthy bastard instead decided he could sign your lives away to nothing, scatter the ashes of the Empire to the wind and give the accursed Dominion what they asked for in the first place.

You should have seen me, my sweet, fighting with the best of them. For the Empire, for the Legion and all that foolish shouting we did. I swore an oath to that man, you know. Funny, for a man named Mede, I should have seen such drunken decisions coming. You always did say my pride would get the better of me.

I'm 61 now. Strange how time seems to have bent in such ways. Far too old to be fighting any wars. I feel that now. My bones ache in a way that worries even me, the fearless Thedorus Mallus. Ha! I'm not a soldier, Vala. I fight for what I believe in, yes. But I'm just a bard, and I believed in The Empire, and you. Therefore, there is nothing on this world for me to continue to take up arms for.

I will go east. I've heard whispers of lands that way, islands filled with elf-bats or something of similar ilk. Not Akavir, not that far. I doubt I'd even survive the journey that far, though wouldn't that make a wonderful ending to my tale? Vanishing into nothing in the sea like Nerevar reborn? In truth I had hoped that perhaps I would find my end in the war, immortalised in glory like Nordic warriors of old. But I suppose the mysterious disappearance could be a fitting substitute for the warrior-poet.

I leave at your stone this letter, and my heart. May you find peace in whatever lays in wait for you, for I fear I will never join you there. I've done far too much reading. My ship leaves on the morning, to taste some new adventure in which I can find my peace. I know that I can never find that here. This land is tainted and false, seeped in blood that need not have spilled at all, pierced at it's heart by a poisoned spear of Gold-And-White.

Farewell, my Vala. You would have loved Wayrest.

Auxiliary Thedorus Mallus,

Sworn soldier of the traitor Titus Mede II, a pox upon his name.