[The narrator]

"Cyrodiil…. The once great Imperial province. Torn into several city-states stretching throughout the south-central region of the massive continent called Tamriel." "The result of the sudden assassination of Uriel Septim VII and his heirs at the hand of the organization referred to as "Mythic Dawn". With the help of the soon to be Champion, Uriel's illegitimate son "Martin" was soon found. After perilous quests and journeys. Martin transformed into The Avatar or Akatosh and destroyed Mehrunes Dagon. His body was consumed by Akatosh and forever closing the jaws of Oblivion. With the third era closed… We look to the fourth era for the future…"

The rain poured down hard on the gates of Kvatch. People were running to shelter from the sudden downpour. Guard's stood on the towers watching intently for any signs of trouble. The air was very thick and muggy today, hard to breathe in and very sticky. Yet here in Kvatch life was as normal as it should be. Besides the weather which has been unforgivable lately. It seemed as if even the gods were crying for the loss. The pain this land has endured.

People were scurrying along in their everyday habits; it was as if nothing had ever happened. Rubble had been moved and cleared from the area. Bodies were buried and Daedra corpses were burned. New houses and buildings popped up soon after. People had returned to the great city, as life flooded back into the town. The faint burnt smell was still lingering in the air, but the rain would soon wash away the scent completely.

Understand this was a few years after the gates of oblivion had been shut. Tourists had littered the area of Kvatch. It was a site of heroism and endurance to the people who lived there. A mighty City State rebuilt from the rubble and ashes. A symbol of hope to all.

On a wooden stage in the middle of Kvatch; a Dunmer bellowed tales of a great hero.

"The Champion saved us bravely and valiantly from our demise. Remained nameless and faceless, for he wore a mask that hid his mysterious face; and barely spoke to anyone." A young Dunmer told many people who had gathered to listen to him speak. The elf swung his hands eagerly as he acted out the courageous story. "Daedra surrounded him… Yet he sliced three of their heads off at once!" He swung his hand as a knight would a sword. The crowd gasped in awestruck amazement at the tale.

One of the spectators remained calm. She was a young Breton, almost 18 in age. Her brown hair was pulled back in a long side braid. Her orb like hazel eyes rolled, as she sighed and crossed her arms impatiently. Boredom was not new to her. For her parents always drug her to such boring things. Her courage sky-rocketed and she raised her hand with a smug smile. The elf took notice and stopped, "Yes young one?" He said gently awaiting her question with eager ears.

"If the Champion as you called him..." She stopped, laughing slightly. "Wasn't a coward, why did he never show us his face or even give us his name?" Her brash disrespect was blunt obvious.

The elf remained composed looking at her with a slight whimsical smile. You couldn't see a hint of agitation in his features. His hair glimmered slightly from the bright fire that was next to him; it was a deep blue and pulled in a long ponytail. The fire made it seem very vivid. He was the example of a very handsome Dunmer. She stared into his large coal black eyes awaiting her answer.

"Even the brave have their secrets my dear…" He laughed warmly. "Believe me when I tell you he was no coward." Pausing for a moment the Dunmer walked toward her seat in the audience. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered so no one else could hear. "You won't find your proof here. Sadly, Kvatch was cleaned of any artifacts of his existence." He handed her a note inconspicuously. "Your proof is all there." He pulled back quickly and looked at her. Winking and moving back to the stage to begin his tales again.

The Breton girl looked at the note he had placed in her hand. It was slightly crumbled and looked as if it was just scrap of old dirty paper. She looked over at her parents who were still in awe at the tales. Said quietly, "Mom I'll be right back… I need to get some food…" She held her stomach as an indication and her mom nodded and turned her attention back to the show. Quickly she made her escape from the crowd. Moving into a quieter part of town, she searched for a place to sit. Finding a nice bench in a noiseless area; it was under a very big tree. The branches sheltered her from the now lightly pouring rain.

She unfolded the note and stared deeply at the scrawled writing…

[To be continued...]