A Hope in The Starry Heart (CYOA Part 5)

The Ruby Thrown sits empty once more. Emperor Titus Mede II is dead, and Cyrodiil is in crisis. You are Constantine Milan IV, esteemed member of the Elder Council, and the burden of guiding the Empire to greatness falls on your shoulders.

You rub your salt and pepper colored beard while sitting in your colossal wooden chair, carved with your family's crest and inlaid with polished soul gems. Legend has it that they contain the souls of some of your family's most ancient enemies from the second era, a reminder to guests that the Milan family is not to be trifled with.

You usually feel a sense of power when sitting in it, but right now all you have is a sense of hopelessness. It doesn't take much critical thinking to realize that the empire as you know it is doomed. The Emperor did not leave behind any legitimate successors. There are rumors of a Dragonborn, but surely that is just a myth. The Chancellor will likely call a meeting of the Elder Council, but that won't help anything. It will be an hour or two of quarreling over which Councilor ought to be named Potentate. In the meantime, ambitious Colovian warlords will be scheming to take the White Gold Tower and the Imperial City will break into a panic.

You come to a single conclusion: Interregnum is inevitable.

Idly, you can't help but wonder whether that really matters anymore. Cyrodiil is a broken power, and the empire is obviously dying. To the south the Thalmor are seizing half of Tamriel by treaty or by force. To the west, Hammerfell is reverting to its traditional warrior roots and waving its swords impotently against the elves. To the North, High Rock is caught up in court squabbling and the Nords have effectively left the empire. Tullius hasn't been heard from in days. The Dark Elves have ousted most Imperial sympathizers and Black Marsh pretends Cyrodiil doesn't exist.

It's as if the Eight have left Tamriel to fend for itself. Deep in your bones, you know that this will be the last Interregnum. The Empire in its current state can't be saved. If you and your faction are to survive, you will have to adapt to changing times.

A sharp knock on the door shakes you out of your reverie.

"Come in."

The large doors open again, this time revealing a tall Redguard wearing ebony armor with a sword of the same substance swinging on his hip. Cedric, the head of your guard, and the most trusted subordinate of your household. You recruited your former fellow legate as your chief guard not long after the war ended. That has proven to be a wise choice.

"A message has arrived via moth translocation. It is titled Emergency Council Meeting. You don't have to tell me what happened, just how bad it is."

You rise from your chair and approach him.

"Very bad. Assume that all of us have been targeted."

"I will put all the guards on duty and inspect the defenses. By the time I am finished, even the Numidium would consider Milan Manor an impossible challenge."

You can't resist the urge to smile. Even when all else fails, Cedric forges a way.

"Excellent. Ariadne hasn't woken, has she?"

"She thinks she fooled me. I caught on to her act halfway down the grand hall."

"You're not any fun.", a disembodied feminine voice says.

You sense the magicka from a spell dissipate as an invisibility spell is dispelled, revealing a dark haired woman in her late thirties. Ariadne, your wife.

You have always loved her, but your marriage was as political as it is out of love. She is a leading member of

[ ]The Synod

[ ]The College of Whispers

"What has troubled you, dear?", she asks.

"I suppose both of you should know. Titus Mede has been assassinated, and he has no heirs. The Chancellor has called an emergency meeting of the Elder Council."

"Will you go?", she says.

"And listen to the Council bicker while Cyrodiil burns? No. I'm going to speak with my associates and figure out a way to weather this storm. Maybe a few other Councilors will see reason and work with me, so long as Motierre doesn't play any games."

Her look hardens into a business-like mask, a skill she's developed over the years in her own political wrangling. She understands the implied request.

"I'll speak to my colleagues as well."

Cedric and Ariadne take the ensuing silence as permission to leave the room, and you go to a nearby desk. Using a swish of magicka, you summon an inked quill and some parchment. You're about to write the letters that will shape the future of the empire. But who will you write to first?

You could write your associates in the East Empire Company to inform them of the civil strife certain to take place soon, thus securing precious trade routes.

You could also write your Colovian ally Agrippa Artorius, but you're not sure how he might take the news. Finding out from you might give you greater influence on how he uses his private army, renowned for its cavalry.

You could write your spies, either to recall them or to ask for an update.

Finally, you could write your allies on the Elder Council. They might be able to leverage their own networks to preserve Cyrodiil in the coming days.

Regardless, you must pick somewhere to start.

(In this vote, all choices will be chosen. You must number them according to the priority you give them.)

[ ] Write Agrippa Artorious, a Colovian Warlord

[ ] Write your spies.

[ ] Write your Elder Council allies.

[ ] Write your business partners.