Entry One

I must admit that the smell still bothers me. I don't retch or turn pale like some of the newer agents might. It bothers me for what it means. It means that we have failed and that they were not convinced of our purpose. Why can't they see that what we are doing is nothing but benefit? But all they see the immediate discomfort. Does not the farmer pull weeds, perhaps tearing out some of the actual crops, in order to produce a greater harvest? Does healing magic not hurt and cause, in some cases, great pain in order to set the body right? They focus only on the culling and do not see beauty and glory that will result. Why can't they understand? They are limited in their focus and in their vision. They refuse to see beyond themselves and their little principalities. They are unwilling to exchange their current small amount of comfort for lasting order and perfection. And because of this, we had to burn yet another village today. Their houses fell and their flesh burned. I turned away from the smell. The others say that the it doesn't bother them anymore. I suspect that, for me, it always will.

Entry Two

Sometimes I consider my post here in Skyrim more of a punishment than a commendation. I remember when I was reassigned, they said it was due to my exemplary performance and service in Valenwood. At the time, I was honored; I was being thrust into the very heart of the resistance to our cause. There I could be of infinitely more help. But I find this place to be torturous. These Nords are the most stubborn people I've ever encountered and that makes them the most short-sighted. They can't see the beauty that will result from excising the wounds of this world. It is sometimes enough to drive some of the others into a slaughtering rage. And yet, my compassion for this broken world has only increased in dealing with them. And that, I find, is where I'm weak. I can't but help feel pity upon these heathens that would rather continue on in a decrepit state because they can't see what Mundus could be. I must find a way to get past this. This empathy has no place out there in the field. I can't let it get to me. I must press through and give these barbarians exactly what they deserve.

Entry Three

The audacity of these Nords is quite spectacular at times. They call us evil. They pin everything that wrongs them as the doing of the Thalmor. They see our rejection of their false god and the Concordant imposed ban on his worship as a personal insult. They see a couple of culled villages and the arrest of seditious members as attacks on their country and freedom. Can't they see that they are not free? They are trapped! They are mired by this fractured existence stained with imperfection. And yet they blame and attack us. The more they resist us, the more we must expunge their heretical thinking. Alas, the only way to do that with the Nords is to put them down. They are not unlike injured horses or mad dogs in this sense. I fear they are too far gone. I truly feel sorrow for their plight.

Entry Four

My patrol was attacked when I was last out. It was a single man. He came rushing at us with an old rusted iron sword, shouting something about his kin and his country and Talos. The usual rhetoric of the Nords. He never got close. My lightning stopped him in his tracks. Dropped him to the ground. I did not relent. I was in such a rage that he would dare perpetrate any such violence upon us that kept the lightning flowing into him and watched as he writhed on the ground. When his bones started popping out of joint, he began begging. It was then that I became weak. I felt compassion for him and his ridiculously idiotic actions blinded by his short-sighted anger. And so I ended his madness with a spike of ice through his head. He is free of it now. The commanding officer was not pleased with my actions. He would have preferred that we arrest and detain him for questioning. I lied and said that my rage had got the best of me. I'm sure my pity for these barbarians would not have been understood. He commended me for my quick actions, but warned me about not following proper protocol. But what possible information could we gain from a dog that can only attempt to bite the helping hand? I would maintain, privately, that my actions were the only proper course of action.

Entry Five

Dragons have returned. Or so I am told. I haven't actually seen one, but the reports of them coming in are numerous. My assignment has changed, as have the assignments of a good many other mages it would seem. There is concern that the dragons may disrupt the civil war here in Skyrim. For now the dim witted population continues to fight, but as the threat represented by the beasts of legend grows, will they put aside their causes and unite against them? I'm told the First Emissary herself has made finding the cause of the dragons a top priority and as such many mages, myself included, have been put into groups and are being sent to various places in order to ferret out how the dragons returned and what can be done to stop them. I personally wonder if we couldn't bend them to our will, however. The goals of the Dominion would be so easily obtainable with these monsters aiding our cause. Surely they are just dumb animals and thus would be more easily managed than the confounding people that inhabit this gods forsaken tundra.

Entry Six

I have arrived, just this day, to this small village called Kynesgrove. Despite being just a morning's walk from Windhelm the people have been almost accepting of our presence. Myself and two other mages have been tasked with investigating a dragon burial mound here. We are to learn all we can and report back our findings. I admit I do not know what we are expected to find at a lump of earth, but if, by some small chance, something is discovered that will aid in bringing order to this world, then it will be worth it. We are staying at the inn here in a singular room. The proprietor stated it was the only room she had available and I would believe it since this rather large inn seems to be the only real building here. The long journey here gave me an opportunity to get to know my colleagues that have accompanied me. They seem to be rather staunch supporters of the Dominion and everything it is working to achieve. They are good, true Altmer and I suspect I will enjoy working with them.

Entry Seven

We have been in Kynesgrove two days now and I have found something, though it does not pertain to dragons. Despite the nation's apparent mortal terror of books, it seems one has managed to survive unscathed. It is a simple leather bound tome with no title and all its pages are blank. I kept it to use as my next journal as this one is close to filled. How it managed to escape fire, weathering, or other defacement that seems to be the fate of every book unfortunate enough to find itself in Skyrim, I do not know. I am glad to have found it, however, and will keep it safe. It seems that while we've found nothing about the dragons here, the journey was not entirely fruitless. For lack of any better place to keep it, I have placed the empty tome under the pillow of my bedroll. Tomorrow we depart to head back to the Embassy.

Entry Eight

I had such strange dreams last night. I felt has though I was conscious though I know that cannot be. In the dream I spoke to a being that claimed to be Xarxes. Despite knowing that it was only a dream I cannot deny how real it felt. I also cannot rightly deny the Scribe's claim. He knew things about me that I've told to no one. He also knew things about others, such as my traveling companions and the First Emissary. He told things about my own parents that seemed to make sense of certain events from my childhood. But the greatest bit of evidence was the writing on the dragon burial mound that he pointed out to me in my dream. When I woke, I couldn't shake it and despite my initial doubt, I persuaded the others to stay one more day and take one last look at the mound. I found the writing right where he said it would be. It was tucked inside the lip of the uppermost tier of stone, cut into the northern part of the ring so as to almost always be in the shadow. We quickly transcribed the writing and brought it back to the inn to study. Alas it is written in a language unknown to all three of us, but I am confident that we will be able crack this cypher and gain some insight into the dragons that all others have, to this point, failed to provide.

Entry Nine

Xarxes visited me in my dreams again and spoke to me. He told me more of my companion that I did not, at first, believe. He told me of their traitorous intent. He told how they had actually seen the strange writings at the burial mound, but had said nothing. They meant to sabotage this mission and bring us back to the Embassy empty-handed. The Scribe told me about how they are part of a growing cabal within the Thalmor working to undermine our glorious purpose. I did not believe all this at first, but Xarxes pointed me to recall several things. The first was their reluctance to stay and have one last look. Another was their apparent annoyance at having found the writing. They passed it off as not recognizing the language but now I see that the source of their irritation was really the prospect at our task having some measure of success. I now see their talk of support for the Thalmor for what it really was - a ruse. A very elaborate and convincing one, but a ruse nonetheless. I am grateful to Auriel's Scribe for revealing it to me. I admit, I would not have seen through it otherwise. Unfortunately, there was no way of unmasking them once we got back to the Embassy and their crimes wouldn't have gone unpunished. I killed them both. They had to die for their betrayal. The first I killed in his sleep. The second proved problematic, however, as he woke before I could pass my blade across his throat. The struggle was brief, however, and in the end I stood triumphant over his body. Our room was quite the mess afterwards and I knew the heathen Nords that run the place would not ever have understood. So I left. I will return to the Embassy with what little I have. I know not what to say of my companions, but I have a long enough journey ahead in order to think of something.

Entry Ten

I am writing this in the early morning hours before the dawn. I got as far as I could from Kynesgrove before setting camp. Fortune was with me as I spent the night undisturbed by any wildlife. I communed with Xarxes again in my dreams. He knew of my struggle. He knew about my compassion for the world and offered sympathies. He understood my pain and why the smell still bothers me. He spoke of ways to set my torment at ease. He, of course, understood the sickness of this world in chaos and shared a desire to make it right and bring order to it. He told me of a place, not far, where he could offer me refuge and help me gain the power I would need to set everything aright. I admit, I am conflicted. I do not wish to betray the Thalmor cause or abandon my people, but when has one of gods ever spoke to the them? The fact that Xarxes chose me must mean there is something about me that is more worthy than they. Surely they would understand once all is done. I have a chance to bring about a world that we all deserve and I must see it through. Not only would it be my privilege, it would be my duty. I will find Xarxes sanctum and will see his vision made reality. He gave me a title in the ancient Ayleid tongue. "Mala Aran Naga", he called me. I recognize the word "Aran". It means king – at least it does in Aldmeri. When asked about what the rest of it meant, he promised to reveal it to me at a later time, when I had wrought a new order upon the world. And I will. I will bring peace and order to this world and I will be King. My true name will be revealed and it will be beautiful.