Resubmitting this with .net/u/1774541/SpecialAgentOrange advice, so hopefully it will read a little better from now on. A little note, I'm portraying Cyrodil as a very patriarchal society, simply because that's what it came across as. Seriously, there are no female imperial soldiers save for a few of the officers, yet the Stormcloaks are pretty much fifty/fifty split.

"By the Eight, this isn't right!"

Elanin's voice echoed in the vast chamber if the White Gold Tower, but the amplified effect did nothing to sway the opinion of the assembled council members.

"The law is very clear on such matters, Miss Tiani." The head council member, an Imperial, responded calmly in spite of her outburst. "As a woman and the youngest, you are not eligible to inherit any of your fathers wealth or property. It is Imperial custom-"

"My father was a High Elf, born and raised on the Summer Set Isle! It is our belief that-"

"But you are not on the Summerset Isle, now are you, Miss?" One of the lesser members of the council sneered, leaning forward in his gilded chair. "If your father wanted you to be the sole beneficiary of his will, he should have remained where High Elf influence was dominant." A faint cough, amplified by the dome shaped ceiling, stopped the man and drained the color from his face. The Thalmor guards, each in glittering elven armor, stood in pairs alongside every door. While they gave no outward indication of emotion, their glittering eyes all now focused on the man in question.

"What he means..." Another council member stepped in, coming to the rescue of the others. "Is that, in spite of your upbringing, it is the law of the Empire, and therefore something that is out of our hands. Regardless of our current diplomatic relations." It was a poor apology at best, but the bristling guards settled none the less, and a collective sigh of relief was let out by all save for Elanin, who still trembled with rage.

"A messenger has already been sent to Anvil to inform your brother of the turn of events." The head council member said, bringing back the discussion back on topic and sounding rather bored with it. "He will likely return within the week, and when he does, you may speak with him on the matter of a stipend."

"My older brother is a chambermaid chasing spendthrift!" Elanin roared, knowing full well that she was making a scene. "Within a month he will have spent every Septim of my fathers wealth! What's worse, you know full and well he will toss me on the streets before the sun sets on his return!"

"You forget your place, woman!" The burliest council member, a battle scarred veteran snapped. "You have no right to question the authority of your brother or this council. In fact..." He turned to the head council member, his tone scathing and haughty. "Why we bothered to even hear this wench and her petty concerns is beyond me. Especially considering the many more pressing matters this council should be attending to."

"Petty concerns?" Elanin repeated, her voice cracking in her fury. Magic crackled about her clenched fists, though she kept a tight lid on the power pulsing through her magic infused blood. "This is my life you boar headed Imperials are tossing aside! Not to mention a million septims of inheritance that you're handing to a brainless louse solely because he was fortunate enough to be born male!"

"Enough! You're outburst does not help your case, Miss Tiani." The head council member snapped, raising his voice in a rare display of frustration. "If anything, it only proves that you are incapable of handling the pressures of such an inheritance."

"I-" Elanin attempted to jump back in to the argument, but the banging of the dragon headed gavel stopped her short.

"The Council has reached a unanimous decision. You, Elanin Tiani, are not eligible to inherit your fathers wealth or estate. As such, said inheritance shall instead be bestowed upon your elder brother, regardless of stipulations written in the will, which is henceforth declared null. This council is adjourned." Without further word, the council members stood, chairs skidding on the stone floor in their haste. Whispering amongst themselves, the old men quickly retreated back to the main chamber, none bothering to look back at Elanin as they did so. The door creaked on it's ancient hinges behind them as it slid shut, banging under it's own weight and rattling until it settled to silence once more.

Elanin was left alone to fume in silent rage and frustration. Was that it then? Twenty years into her several century lifespan, and everything was already crashing down? It wasn't fair, above all things, nor was it right. She was a brilliant example of the superiority of the High Elf race, she deserved nothing but the best, and she gave nothing but perfection. Already she was a master of the Arcane Arts and a brilliant sword fighter, all due to natural prowess and the best training gold could buy. But without wealth, how far would any of that take her in a land ruled by men? With difficulty brought by frustration, her clever mind struggled to find a solution, though nothing came, even as she began to pace subconsciously toward the nearest door.

Passing through the ornate and massive doorway, her eyes wandered over the Thalmor guards flanking the doorway. Though they were as still as statues, she could feel their eyes boring into her. They were scorning her. A high elf, beaten by the customs of an inferior people, it was as disgraceful to them as it was her.

Their haughtiness only fed her anger, even if she would have done the same of the roles were reversed. How was it her fault that her people still allowed the Imperials to keep their backward tradition of male dominance? Why did they limit themselves to mere embassies and ambassadors, forcing high elven women like herself to deal with their oppressive laws? If anything, why had her father needed to die? He had been old, but his health had been strong, and for him to fall ill and die within a week was something she had not expected or prepared for. If she'd had time, she would have had him moved back to the Sumerset Isle, where his will would have been legitimate and her claim to his wealth recognized.

But fate had already dealt that hand, and it had turned out poorly for her. All the better for her brother Calcemo, of course. How ironic was it that her father had sent him to Anvil in the hopes of teaching him about frugality, and yet now he was to inherit everything for nothing? Now he had everything, and she had nothing, not even the hope of a future...

And then realization hit like a bolt of electricity, stopping her rigid in her tracks.

She did have a chance, a chance in the form of a single other living relative. An uncle, a brother of her long deceased mother who had gone north to Skyrim many years before she had been born. From what little correspondence they had received (the last letter had been sent some years ago) he was doing well, but was without heirs and had hoped to arrange a contract of sorts. Her father had denied, mostly due to the fact that such a transition would have required direct contact, and neither party had been willing to make the several week trek over the Jerral mountains.

But if that offer still stood...

I shall speak to my brother on his return, and gain the funds to travel such a distance. Elanin told herself, a plan already forming in her clever mind. He would much rather just hand over a purse of septims than deal with any resistance to his claim. With a renewed vigor, she strode through the halls of the White Gold Tower like the noble that she was. A challenge lay before her, one that threatened both her standing and her life, and she would face it as such.

For she was not just a noble, she was a survivor.

Five weeks.

Five weeks of exhausting travel, five weeks of hunger, five weeks of struggle.

And she was almost there.

At long last, she was nearing the end of the Jerral mountains, and the sky scraping peaks were beginning to lower. The cold was lessening, and she found herself walking steadily downward rather than eternally upward. Even trees were once more becoming a common sight, and her current path was surrounded by them on both sides, thick hardy stems clinging to the snowy stones and blocking her view of the lower side of the mountain. It was the first positive sign she'd had in weeks, and Elanin was taking all of it in. The tattered silken robes about her shoulders and her gaunt features were testament of her ordeal, but her eyes glowed with just as much determination as they had on the day she had started off, though her coin purse was notably lighter.

I should still have enough to purchase passage to Solitude, I doubt these barbarians charge much for anything... It was very unlikely that she would be journeying for more than another two days, though the dimming light likely meant that there would not be much more travel time today.

"To think I'm so close..." She said aloud, as she often did to break the dead silence of the mountains. There was no response save for the chilling breeze through the trees and stone, but that was all she had come to expect. Being the quick learner that she was, Elanin had begun to learn the ways of the mountain, particularly the noises and what they entailed. The rumbling of an avalanche, the groaning of a loose ledge, and the crumbling of-

Clack! Clang! Bang!

Rockslide! The loud clangs were unmistakable, and she immediately whipped her head around to determine the source. While the echoing caused by the natural curve of the mountain made it difficult, her well attuned ears quickly picked up that the noise was coming from just a bit down the slope. Her panic subsiding, Elanin was able to make out the peculiar metallic ring to the sound. A moment later she came to another realization, those weren't rocks clanging, those were weapons! There was a battle! Knowing full well she was not physically prepared for battle, Elanin took care to try and find the specific source.

Could it be further down the path? It sounds close... Pointed ears straining as she took steady steps forward, she was able to get a rough idea of the exact location of the skirmish, as well as how many combatants were involved. Quite a few well armed soldiers by the sound of the battle, not common bandits raiding a caravan then. Was Skyrim truly in such turmoil that it was spilling over to the borders?

A gap in the trees and rocky outcroppings created by a recent mudslide allowed Elanin to peak down the mountain to gain a better view. The muddy slope was steep, but not too long, and the at the bottom she could clearly see the fray. Squinting, Elanin tried to determine who was fighting. Were those Stormcloaks? Their uniform seemed to match descriptions, but it was hard to tell with the dimming light. Driven by curiosity, Elanin leaned forward, gripping a thick bush for support. Those were indeed Imperial guards, Stormcloaks as well. Why would they be-

The thought was never finished, as her support snapped and sent her tumbling down the slope.

With a scream, Elanin hit the mud, sliding and falling end over end in a display that would have been comical had it not been potentially fatal. Stones and sticks bumped and battered her body as she fell, and it did not take long for numerous cuts and bruises to open up on her flesh. The bone jarring tumble ended as she hit the bottom, right into the middle of the fray. Head spinning, Elanin was not even able to make sense of the chaos around her, head lolling as she held herself up on her hands and knees. The instinct to survive took over faster than any willpower on her part.

Fumbling, she forced herself to stand, still not gaining any attention from the battling forces that were now on every side. The chaos spun around her, disorienting her further as she stumbled to a shambling run. The clangs of battle sounded around her, though the din was lessening as one side began forcing the other into submission. The fuss was so concentrated she might have been able to make a clean run for it...

Had she not run right into an armored Imperial Officer.

The soldier stumbled from the hit, but Elanin was sent sprawling, staring up with horror at the soldier. Regaining coherent thought through fear, she held up her mud streaked hands in defense as he raised his blade.

"No! Please! I'm innoce-"

But the flat of his blade struck her skull, and she knew no more.