It was an old morning by all accounts. When the lights of
dawn rose from the horizon, and the lights of the full moon dwindled as it was
overtaken by dawn, the sounds of mages flapping their brown or blue cloaks
could be heard – sounds of dust being blown away into the mountains to the
east. It seemed to Kenil, as he sat motionlessly above the causeway between the
Gorograd Mountains westward and the little village of Rake alongside the east
coast, that he could hear more than constant flapping of cloak blown by wind,
that he could hear the steps of mules and men moving from those passages, and
hard earned raspy voices – human voices, coming from the central lands of
Cyrodil, where there were few elves, except occasionally for the merchant Mer
who frequented the East Cyrodil Trading Company near the empire's capital.
Those hard-earned human voices came from a
night of hard work. It came from constant daylong labor earnestly done. There
was reason, too, not just because of vigorous men who had enough energy to
expend. For somehow, on top of the Gorograd Mountains, one could just a line of
black above the horizon, like a river of dark above the sea, a place of true
fear. All the time, men moved defensively through the Gorograd Mountains,
stopping once or twice along a protrudence of rocks, to climb them, and to
watch the land across the strait, knowing a charge might take place led by
whatever things might appear while they slumbered. 'Haste! Better to be safe
and defended!'
News no longer came from across the sea. The
bards had once been virulent, trying to spread word of war and chastise amongst
the Great Houses, their songs had dictated by old elves that, at last, finally
hid all charades of peace. And amount of time these aged elves had lived, they
had had peace – which was a very long time by human standards. They had watched
each other through the vile temper of ancestry even prior to the establishment
of the Empire. The knowledge that their dead fathers had fought once, dead not
long ago, did even less to prevent them from wrecking havoc. It was only the
transient dictations of the Empire that stopped their wars, until – until the
Empire itself had at last weakened. For a thousand years, an elf could live.
Surely they could also wait.
Yes, in Morrowind you could live a thousand
years and still not know all the history that influences its nature. Humans are
considered outlanders. People who come but don't belong. Native elves
considered them useful at times, but completely irrelevant at more important
things.
It was a bad time for the empire and the
rest of Tamriel. Uriel Septim, the 38th emperor – the last of the long lineage
of rulers, died not long ago. And when emperors die, part of their empires
diminish, creating holes and gaps to be filled by new alliances – or by battle.
A long time ago, Man evolved in Tamriel
through the Nordic Tribes called ancients. They were hairy creatures with great
bodies capable of carrying large weights. Their knowledge of skills was
rudimentary however. The Elves, or Mer, could live for a thousand years, most
who did not for specific reasons: wars, famine, and disease. Truth be told, no
one knew how there could be so many species as once, although some speculated
it might all be because of the three god-moons circulating Tamriel, at always
some place some time, and giving off their blossoming magic changing Men and
Mer into the things they are today.
But of all the species, Man and Mer, there
was nothing more different, more distinctive, than the dark elves. The reasons
were not just because they were dark, not because they can vary from all
different types of ugliness to sanguine beauty in its everlasting thousand-year
form, but because they truly wrecked havoc! The coasts parallel to the Gorograd
Mountains packed plenty of elves, especially dark elves, and that gave reason
to suspect of possible hostilities away from Morrowind. As the old saying goes,
'wood elves are the nature lovers, high elves are the mind trainers, and dark
elves – well they are the smartest, the most romantic, but, hah!, they are also
the destroyers of life eternal!'
A few days ago, all the news that came from
Morrowind the last few weeks told them the ongoing conflict remained strong.
But then… the news stopped. They no longer heard any noises coming from over
the neither the strait, nor any boats crossing it. Perhaps, some thought, all
hostilities had finally stopped. Perhaps a house finally took over the
beachhead and had some reason for not allowing anyone to trespass through. For
some reason, the current makeshift counsel ordered the positioning of guards
all over the coasts surrounding Morrowind. This was a dangerous time though no
one knew why.
Kenil walked the streets clumsily, not
knowing what to do or who to come to. Just then, he felt his body bump against
a great stonewall. A cyrodil by looks. The large bulky man looked down on him.
Seeing this, Kenil shook his head and apologized, took his wine bottle along
with his glassy gaze and made a path for the man. He waited there with his
dizziness all around him, but the man he bumped into did not move.
The cyrodil was quiet, and so was Kenil, so
neither disturbed the peace in light of the morning sun. Soon, Kenil felt a
little wayward, it seemed he was being scrutinized over by him. Had he
committed a crime?
"Need work?" The man said. Kenil response was stoned, 'what?'
"Do you need work, dark elf?"
Kenil said, "more than ever, sir."
"Come with me."
Kenil couldn't believe him. Who would ask a
drunk off the streets to work? Especially a dark elf! They were wildly known as
burglars and robbers. Kenil wondered, 'am I being tricked? What would a person
do with a dark elf?' Nevertheless, he followed the bulky man who he happened to
bump into. Through dark openings, and channels he never knew, Kenil arrived
under a house of some kind. The place wasn't extravagant, or it would 'be
robbed in this place', but nor was it a complete dump like the rest of the
small fishing village. The appearances - Kenil told himself never to rely on
appearances, (until he saw himself in the mirror and knew what he saw said many
truths about him inside) – were normal, just a little on the better side of
normal.
After entering the door containing not just
one, nor two, but three locks, inside Kenil found a junk. 'This place is a
mess! Was this the work he'd been asked to do?' He asked himself.
The large human looked down at him, "help me
clean this up, but beware dark elf, I'll be watching you."
Kenil didn't know whether it was time to ask for pay, besides he could use
anything even if all of it were for a drake or two. So he began to work
alongside the house owner. It was true; the man did pay attention to him every
once in a while. At one point however, the man made a quick route to a place in
the house where his sight could not remain vigilant. Kenil looked at his absent
spot, knowing, as a dark elf knew, that the perfect opportunity to steal had
been innocently offered to him. Kenil decided not to though, he didn't know
what to expect if he did get caught.
A long while passed, and Kenil continued to
sweep and clean the house, while there were sounds of movements in the
backroom. Soon, the man came back, this time his cloth were cleaner, not so
much as a pauper's cloth any longer, but something decent, thought Kenil. For
some reason, Kenil didn't think the bulky man fit into his own home. Perhaps it
was some detail Kenil's conscious mind was not aware of.
Kenil worked, the day came and went, and
when the house and all the mess had finally been cleaned, the cyrodil man
looked at Kenil, worn and tired and unbelievably thirsty. The cyrodil entreated
him to sit. 'This is awkward,' though Kenil. He anticipated the man would pay
him and onward, he'd be back on the streets of the village Rake where there was
a tavern to quench his thirst.
After leaving him to retire on a chair,
Kenil's gaze looked around the room, 'amazing!' The place appeared much more
uniformed now it was no longer a mess. In fact, thought Kenil, it had changed
along with the cyrodil man. The bulky cyrodil, now dressed in a fashionable
cloth, arrived back with a bottle of red liquid. He offered a drink to Kenil.
Kenil couldn't help but take his hosts
offer. When his eyes gazed on it, the red liquid appeared juicy and tasteful.
The sounds it made in the container squished. His mouth would have watered, if
there were any moisture left in it. After looking back at the cyrodil, he
decided with more impulse than thought before reaching for the container, 'to
oblivion!'
After he drank it, the cyrodil began to speak. "You are a dark elf, yes?"
Kenil nodded, slowly, shyly.
The man looked at him in the face, in a questionable manner. His own face
showed strictness with warm behind it. "If being a dark elf is a sin in these
parts, then you would have committed a great crime… But it is not." For the
first time, Kenil realized along with all the many things he'd only recently
saw, that this man, the cyrodil who offered to pay him from the streets, had a
true knowledgeable appearance around him. The man said, "never be afraid of
your heritage, Kenil. Do not listen to others speak of Morrowind. No man should
shy away from his birthplace."
'How? How? How does he know this of me?' That was all Kenil could whisper –
think.
The cyrodil picked up some logs and flamed the fireplace behind him. Against
the bright background, the man's figure seemed completely different. If there
were any thought in Kenil's mind that the pauper he met was not the pauper he
saw in front of him, he completely believed it. He seemed, oh, wise.
Slowly, Kenil felt himself loosing all control over his words. He felt he
needn't say anything other than the truth. Besides, what could this man do to
him that he couldn't have done already? The broad figure in a barren background
explained himself, "I am Erectus Sirocco. I am a woodsman, a carpenter, and an
architect of the old emperor."
'What did he mean by 'of the emperor'?' Kenil soon realized he had spoke.
"Yes." The man named Erectus responded.
'Where are my own thoughts?' Had he said that, too?
"You drank them away."
'A truth serum! The drink!'
The man smiled.
Kenil said out loud (not that it made a difference): "Why have you done such a
thing to me?"
"Why else? To test you. In such a condition as this, there are more spies for
the empire than there are people. Only a truth serum can remove all obstacles.
Now that I know everything you think, no lie can escape me. Are you a spy?"
'No."
"Very well. The effects of the potion should wear off overnight."
'Overnight!'
The man waved it away, "I need the service of a dark elf, and you are the
perfect employer. Little doubt you are alone, no family, no relations here in
Rake. Otherwise you wouldn't be wondering the streets from sunrise to sunset."
'Yes, that is true…' The words just slipped out.
"I knew such a thing even before I heard you say it. You see – I've been
following you and several other dark elves like you for several days now.
Keeping check if you will. You should feel lucky you are the one I chose first,
otherwise the position might be taken."
'What position?'
The man avoided the question at first. "Many say there are more dark elves who
are burglars and thieves. They say, city elves even steal from their brothers.
And the women are promiscuous. The men are… darker among things. But, I wonder
then, how much have you stolen?"
Before Kenil could think of anything else to say, he had named all of them.
"I see none of them are from my home." Erectus laughed, "Ha! Very well, Good!
Here then is the next question: how would you like to accompany me on a journey
to Morrowind?"
'Depends.'
"The journey is good, the food will be provided, and your earnings be profound.
You will serve under me, act as a dark elf while I am not here, as a cyrodil
with manners when my presence demands it."
'Is that all?'
"No. One more: you must answer it with a yes or no. Can you be trusted?"
'Yes. You can trust me.' Said Kenil under the truth serum.
Erectus broadened his smile. "Good! Good.
Nothing in this world can exist without trust! Well then, I shall tell you my
story, and be gone with finding other dark elves for the task, you will qualify
for what I give you.
"A long time ago, I was a simple low plebian
just as you. And the truth; I became a freelance carpenter so I may work
inside. From there, I could position myself so that I could learn all the
rooms, thinking that later on I could use the knowledge I obtained to gain
access to the house. Little did I know that I would be proficient in my work
and that my skills were sincerely adequate for the task of carpentry. I knew
then that I could earn more doing hard earnest labor than rely on the risky
task of taking things that does not belong. My job pushed me day and night
then, until I was so well known as the fixer who could fix, and make things better
along the way. Because of this, word spread and I received a letter from the
emperor, Uriel, begging me to fix his royalty's kitchen for all the food could
not be made but imported and rotten every time the cook tried to go without it.
You see, the thought of stealing something splendid in the palace occurred to
me but I pushed it away, just as you will push it away. Anyway, afterwards the
kitchen was made usable again and I was rewarded, with my very own company and
men to run it."
"Anyway, from then on my relations with the
emperor not only strengthened but his palace sought me out when he needed
fixing anytime. I began using that advantage to strengthen my own business,
courtesy of the emperor, and as work prospered, my idea also broadened. I tried
many things during that time. With power comes the ability to risk things you
normally would not do. I risked much money in sending travelers and knowledge
seekers around the world, just to understand how other races develop their
homes and such. Finally, all the investing I did paid off and I began to
develop my very own structure of an ideal home. The emperor's reaction to this
influenced me even greater, for he said, and these are his words, 'Our empire
stretches far and wide, compassing all the nations of Tamriel, if we are to
have peace save for conquering new lands settle by the Hordes of Arcadia, our
cultures must intermix.' And what better way to mix than by gathering a
conglomeration of the best ideas and setting them into a house?"
"So afterwards, I set about bringing all
companies that competed for carpentry together, in Cyrodil, for there was much
work to be done and there was little need to compete with that much work. Then
we set out building new house and turning Cyrodil inside out with new
additions. That took little less than three years. By that time, all of Cyrodil
had changed from the old shacks and houses left over from the 2nd era and the
great efficient expanses required of the 3rd. But then, that only the nation of
Cyrodil. We had grown rich during that time, too, all companies who
participated, and now we have so much money, but no where to use it. Our
resources would have diminished as time passed and we would have reverted back
to the state before all this. Thus, many of us turned to other businesses. One
well-known man, who came alongside me when I was given my business by the
emperor, this man turned into trade. Thus, you often hear the words East
Cyrodil Trading Company being uttered time and again. I on the other hand,
decided to remain. Carpentry is my life, so for as long as I live, I will abide
by it!
"Other companies who joined us in our
revolution also tried doing as they had before. Some went to Elswire, the land
of the wood elves, others went to Summerset, place of the high elves, and some
even went to Morrowind. I stayed back in Cyrodil to continue my business.
However just now, the man who went to Morrowind no longer sends messages of his
progress. I wonder then, how that can be, for even though we were of different
companies, we had once joined together, and no one, by any chance of mind
especially not a great friend like him, could possibly risk severing that
relation."
Finally, he was done: "There you see, is my
dilemma! He is my friend. A great one who also accompanied me before I became
famous, thus he was even a greater friend than anyone else I met afterwards. He
now sends no messages to me from Morrowind, and I wonder if he is in danger.
And since the substitute council that now governs the empire has blocked
passage to Morrowind, bless the old emperor's soul, I have no choice but to
make it through undetected. I will take several others with me, but… most of
all, I need someone who once knew Morrowind. And since this fishing village of
Rake was just founded not long ago before anything started, I suppose most dark
elves who are here arrived from Morrowind, all the better. And as for you, I
think you've finally received some good luck, perhaps."
