The date is the Third Century, Year 209, of the Fourth Era. Sir Richard of Wayrest sat upon his bejeweled throne, listening to the arguments to his latest decision. It was not something to be taken likely or be decided by oneself, but Richard would not be swayed from what he thought was right. Mistakes were made in many generations by many others but that did not stop them from doing what they believed would help the land they lived on prosper more. His lighter grey eyes moved from one man to the other, the rest of him staying still. Not even his red, flat hair moved at all.
"That doesn't make this right! Just because it is the simplest way does not mean it won't have lasting consequences!" A man in a very ornate outfit made of the finest of materials and many gold details spoke loudly, his nature forcing him to do so during arguments. The Breton had a lightly aged face with facial hair of an older man, but his voice hasn't faltered over the years of service.
"You cannot tell me one time change came without war and I believe in my Lord to put my life in his hands. I will stand behind every one of his decisions." The other man that stood opposite of the diplomat dressed in gold wore an outfit that would stand out no matter where he was. It was a bulky suit of ebony with steel layered for added protection. It showed wear, but it was just as effective as the day it was forged. As was proper while not in battle, his helmet was not worn to reveal a much more aged looking man than who he was arguing with. He was a Nord with a well-groomed and thick beard that looked thicker than the thin layer of hair that covered his head.
"Soldiers don't know anything about politics. I don't know why I'm trying to convince your thick head. My Lord, can we talk about this first?" The advisor gentleman turned away from the seething warrior and stepped towards Richard.
"I have thought about this for decades. I will be the one to bring all of Tamriel together, but I will not use only violence. Does that comfort you, Mordane?" The well-dressed Breton didn't answer, instead turning to look away and looking down while walking.
"Sir, what will be your first move? Shall I mobilize our forces?"
"Not yet but I will require a small escort group by tomorrow and horses for transportation, Torbin." Richard pushed himself to his feet and the Nord, Torbin, left quickly. He always got excited when any fighting was involved. Mordane spoke up when Torbin was gone from the room, not wanting to get into an argument with the intimidating man.
"I do not wish to overstep my boundaries but is this certainly how you want to start your conquest? I will stand beside you until my last breath, but I don't want you to ignore my advice." Richard was not looking towards his timid advisor, but he knew he meant no ill will. Mordane has long since been with him and he has long since proved his loyalty to Richard and his wife's well-being. Even before Richard held the highest throne in High Rock, Mordane and Torbin were behind him.
"You don't need to worry about controlling what you say around me, friend. I could plan a meeting using a courier and a letter, but I cannot sit and wait for my answer. If I am to complete my personal quest, I will do so myself at every step. I do need you to keep my kingdom safe while Torbin and our band are gone. I assume I can rely on you for that?" It was a rhetorical question, as Richard didn't need an answer to something he already knew the response to.
"Of course, I will, sir! I will be here when you return in victory." Mordane spoke up and his tone changed to be much more upbeat than before.
"Good. Then I will make my leave in preparation for tomorrow." Mordane bowed and left Richard to prepare himself without interruptions.
Richard slowly made his way to the armory that held his most precious equipment. It was a large room with beautifully cut stone walls and marble tiled floors. Glass cases and containers decorated the empty space with a multitude of enchanted or expensive items from Richards travels over his life, his personal trophies that had no use but to help him reminisce about how far he had come. Though his crown jewel was the one thing he could never have gotten this far without it.
"Who would have thought someone such as I would have the power to control a province of people. Sir Richard of Wayrest, a boy grown up almost literally from the ground like a weed only to grow to have the strength of a drake." Richard spoke to only himself, but no more than a couple individuals would know of his past.