Nivrea tossed and turned on the hard wooden floor of the ship, unable to sleep but too exhausted to be fully conscious. She groaned, yet another wave of nausea sweeping through her, a small amount of bile dripping from her open mouth. The ship creaked and groaned, and there wasn't enough light to see by in the cramped cabin that stank of vomit and bodily odours. Nivrea had never travelled by boat before, as she hailed from the landlocked province of Cyrodiil, and even then she had never been to the coast, or even so far as the Niben Bay. Her life had been spent lurking in the Cheydinhal Guild of Mages, studying the many forms of magic, as well as the long-dead Ayleids. Their grand, crumbling ruins had always held great fascination for Nivrea, perhaps even from birth – she had been found as a young child hiding in the entranceway to a ruin, filthy and dressed in rags, barely surviving. Her parents had never been found, and she was quickly taken to an orphanage, but left that place as soon as she discovered her affinity for magic.
Since then things had been fairly smooth sailing, until recently. Nivrea had delved into her studies of the Ayleids with a passion, spending most of her free time perusing books and other documents for any scraps of information she could find. The Arcane University's library had seemingly endless amounts of information, as well as myths and legends, and she would travel from Cheydinhal for weeks at a time just to sit among the shelves and read, basking in the warm candlelight. Oh, what she would give for a book right now, instead of cold, dank wood and a stinking Dunmer man locked in this tiny room with her. Her eyes drifted shut, and she rolled onto her side, wishing for sleep but knowing that she would slip into a fitful doze at best.
A few hours later she dragged herself from sleep's weary grasp and into a sitting position against the wall. The Dunmer man stared at her, eyes half-lidded and exhaustion written plain on his face. Nivrea stared back, not knowing what to say and feeling incredibly awkward. The rocking of the ship had calmed, and with it her nausea. Perhaps they had docked?
"I've heard them say we've reached Morrowind. They're sure to let us go," the man said with a slight smile.
Nivrea smiled back uncertainly. "Do you really think so?"
He nodded. "Home at last," he said with a grin. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."
"Nivrea Uvirith," she said.
"Jiub," he replied, holding out his hand to shake. Nivrea ignored it, for just down the corridor she could hear the stomping of a guard drawing near. The footsteps stopped just outside the door, which creaked open to reveal a stocky Imperial man with a scowl on his heavy features.
"Get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible," he said, glaring at Jiub. They both stood, a little unsure of their footing after so long in a cramped, dark ship, but the Imperial held up one hand. "One at a time," he said. "The woman first."
Nivrea cast one long look back at Jiub, who showed no signs of impatience, just gazing back as the guard started back up the corridor, clearly expecting her to follow like a good sheep. "Better do as he says," the Dunmer finally said, jerking his head towards the guard, who had finally noticed that she wasn't following. Nivrea nodded, turning away and following the Legion officer, simply looking forward to the fresh, foreign air that awaited her. Morrowind had always been fascinating, though she had never been there. It seemed so far removed from the blandness of Cyrodiil, and it was the land of her ancestors – possibly even her parents. She had heard many tales of the Ashlander tribes and the Telvanni wizards living in towering mushroom trees, and the noble Redoran warriors in their shell-like houses with ash storms obliterating the landscape. Truth be told, the Telvanni had always held the most interest for her – from what she had heard, they had very little in the way of rules of structure, and many of the most powerful wizards worked in isolation, absorbed in research for hundreds of years at a time, using magic to extend their lifespans. While the Cheydinhal Guild of Mages had been wonderfully helpful, Nivrea longed for the resources and abilities to carry out research of her own, rather than running errands for other mages, and working as an assistant on things that held no interest to her. The Telvanni sounded idea in that respect.
Her first breath of Morrowind air was…humid. The sky was clear and blue, and in front of her lay a small village haphazardly built on swampland. Nivrea could hear birds and bugs, and felt something bite into her skin, and she quickly swatted it away. The small wooden platform lead to an unimposing brownish building with a sign above the door that read Census and Excise.
I can't be on the mainland, as we got here by ship, so this must be Vvardenfell, Nivrea pondered. The Bitter Coast region is swampland, so it's somewhere west…and Gnisis doesn't have a Census branch that I know of…but Seyda Neen does. Nivrea smiled to herself, pleased with the approximation of her current location. The door of the Census office opened, and an Imperial man walked out, giving her a small smile. Nivrea walked down the ramp to meet him, surprised by his genial expression, especially in the wake of the rude officer that had tossed her off the prison ship.
"You've finally arrived," he said, "but our records don't show from where."
Nivrea glared. Shoddy record keeping had always been a sore spot with her, as between her studies and explorations back in Cyrodiil, she had been required to keep track of the alchemy supplies in the Mage's Guild hall. "Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil," she said sharply.
The man nodded and gestured towards the office. "Just head on into there and talk to Socucious Ergalla. He'll take your information and provide you with release papers." Nivrea nodded sharply and brushed past, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. If these people couldn't keep track of their records, they weren't really worth her time. Nivrea dearly wanted to get out there and explore, not dither about in a dingy office. Already she was making a checklist in her mind full of locations and other fascinations to go and see.
She walked into the small room, squinting, for she could hardly see after being in the bright sun outside, if only for a moment. A white-haired Breton man looked up at her arrival, and smiled warmly. "You must be Nivrea Uvirith," he said.
"I am," she responded, fingers itching to zap this man in an effort to hurry things along.
"I'll just have to take a few details down, and then you'll get your release papers," the man said, oblivious to her growing irritation. "What is your profession?"
Nivrea blinked in surprise, not quite knowing how to answer. "I don't have one as such. Most of what I've done is field research on Ayleids cities and record-keeping for the Mages' Guild."
"Good enough," he responded. "What sign were you born under?"
"The Mage."
And it was as simple as that. Ergalla told her to present the papers to Sellus Gravius, an Imperial Legionnaire in the room accessed through the courtyard, and she would be free to leave with a small release fee and her criminal debt erased. She walked into an unguarded corridor, and almost tripped over a basket on the floor, knocking the lid off. It was filled with alchemical reagents, though she didn't recognise some of them. The other two baskets also contained plants and other items. With a surreptitious glance around, Nivrea stuffed the alchemical supplies into her pockets, making a mental note to find a mortar and pestle later on. She passed quickly through the courtyard and stepped into another room, similar but better lit than Ergalla's office. The Imperial man seated at the table was wearing ceremonial armour, but nonetheless managed to look rather intimidating.
"You must be the Dark Elf woman I've been told to expect," he said, a sombre expression on his face. "I'll need your release papers." Nivrea handed them over wordlessly, and he checked them over before handing her a package of documents in return. "Take this package to Caius Cosades in the town of Balmora. I don't know his exact location, but someone at the South Wall Cornerclub will know, so ask around there. The silt strider is the only transport option other than walking. It's on the east side of town. Don't open that package, just give it to Caius. He'll know if it's been tampered with." He gave her a heavy look, and Nivrea gulped. Did he know what she'd done to end up in jail in the first place? "Anyway, welcome to Morrowind, and be careful. It's a dangerous place."
Without another word, he handed her a small pouch of coins and let her be on her way. The temptation to open the package was already itching in her fingertips, and Nivrea had experience with sealed packages. A thin wire and small, controlled heat spell worked wonders, letting the wax be sliced open with ease, and melted carefully to hide the cut without deforming the seal. Her control of destruction magic, in particular flame spells, had gotten to be rather proficient in her years of exploration and research into ancient cities, as they were dangerous places to be, even for a seasoned adventurer. Many a time had gone by where she had come crawling back to the Guild hall covered in cuts and bruises, absolutely exhausted, but triumphant. Nivrea prided herself on being careful and methodical in her explorations, checking for traps and maintaining a constant detect life spell, and with these measures had avoided serious injuries.
Seyda Neen was little more than a small village, with a few houses, a trader and a lighthouse. It would seem that the tiny community grew around the Census office, with fisherman coming to take advantage of the local merchant so close by. Nivrea was sure that if she walked into the trade house and asked for a meal, she'd be treated to an endless array of fish and crab meat, with a side dish of mushrooms and not much else. She could see many mushrooms growing in the swamps and around trees, some of them letting off an eerie blue light. As she strolled across the bridge and out of town, she stopped to pick a few, ignoring the swampy water soaking her shoes. With that, she turned around, heading up the hill where she had learned the silt strider dock was located. As she walked she kept her eyes on the slippery ground, not wanting to miss a step and fall into the stagnant, smelly pools that lined the slope. A low, mournful call filled the air as she walked. The sound was completely unfamiliar, and Nivrea looked up, trying to locate the source. Just ahead of her was a Dunmer woman standing next to a wooden platform, but that wasn't what caught her eye.
There was a gigantic insect next to the platform, its shell hollowed out, long legs sunk into the muddy ground. As she watched, it let out another call that sent shivers down her spine. The creature – the silt strider – was oddly majestic, especially against the backdrop of the run-down little town. Its spindly legs barely looked like they could support its weight, and yet as she watched, it lifted one up and poked at the ground. There were three or four people waiting at the platform as Nivrea strode up to the caravaner, and all of them looked equal amounts bored and impatient. The caravaner was a Dunmer middle-aged Dunmer woman wearing a green shirt, who looked up as Nivrea approached.
"Do you go to Balmora?" she asked hesitantly. The woman nodded, smiling kindly.
"I do indeed. We're just about to leave now," she responded, gesturing at the small gathering. "It's eighteen drakes for the trip." Nivrea wordlessly handed her the required amount from her small purse. Over the next couple of hours she asked as many questions about Vvardenfell as she could, as well as transport, lingering on the topic of silt striders. The gigantic insects were controlled through the manipulation of exposed organs, and while this might horrify some people she knew, Nivrea found it absolutely fascinating. She also found out that the creatures were native to Vvardenfell, though they were on the verge of extinction. Most of the silt striders that made up the transportation network had been bred and trained on the mainland, then shipped to Vvardenfell, though how they managed to fit on any kind of boat Nivrea had no idea.
The ride was disorienting at first, as the insect swayed and shifted, but it was pleasant overall. The silt strider had a smooth gate, and as the land flowed leisurely past Nivrea dozed, attempting to catch up on the sleep she had lost in transit on the prison ship. When she couldn't doze any longer, she asked yet more questions of the caravaner. By the end of it, she was half-certain that she could operate a silt strider herself, if needed. When they finally arrived at Balmora, the other passengers looked relieved to finally be free of their talkative burden.
The South Wall Cornerclub was apparently located on the east side of the Odai, the river separating the rows of elegant brown buildings, so she quickly made her way to one of the bridges, wrinkling her nose at some of the less-than-pleasant smells drifting up from the water below. The cornerclub itself was easy to find, located on the south end of the second tier of buildings with a cheerful sign outside that read 'South Wall.'
The inside was well-kept and tidy, though a little dingy. The first person Nivrea saw was a male Bosmer, and she figured that he would be as good as any other person for information. "Excuse me," she said, and he looked at her with a slightly glazed expression. "Do you know where I could find Caius Cosades?"
He stared for a moment before answering with a shrug. "Try Bacola Closcius, the owner of this place. He might know." With that, Nivrea turned on her heel and walked upstairs, figuring she might find Closcius in an office. Instead, she almost ran right into the Imperial in her haste to be out of the place. While it seemed clean and tidy, she couldn't help feel a nagging unease in the back of her mind.
"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching a hand to steady her.
Nivrea nodded sharply. "Are you Bacola Closcius?" she asked, hoping her assumption was correct.
"I am indeed. Did you need something?" he responded with a small smile.
"Directions," she responded, feeling uncomfortable. "I was told I could find directions to Caius Cosades in this establishment."
"Oh, old Caius rents a little bed and basket not far from here. Just go out the front entrance, turn left up the stairs and go to the north end of the terrace. His house has a rain barrel outside, so it shouldn't be too hard to find," Closcius said, mapping out the short journey with his hands. "Was there anything else?"
Nivrea shook her head, turned on her heel and left. The walk to Caius' house was short but pleasant, and the fresh air was crisp and clear in this area of the West Gash. The building she had been directed to was a small, unassuming thing, even smaller than the buildings around it. As Nivrea rapped on the door, she began to feel nervousness creeping up on her, but she shoved it to the back of her mind. More than anything, she wanted to know why exactly she was being sent here, and what purpose it served.
The door swung open, and she blinked in surprise. The man that stood before her was getting on in years, balding and bleary-eyed, yet oddly fit for his age – something that Nivrea couldn't help but notice due to his lack of shirt. A powerful stench wafted out of the doorway, and she could smell skooma mixed among the other scents.
"Caius Cosades?" she asked, fairly certain the directions she had been given were some kind of mistake or practical joke.
"You're looking for me?" he asked, blinking slowly. "I'm just an old man with a skooma problem."
Nivrea scowled. That much was readily apparent. "I was given a package to pass along to you," she said, irritation creeping into her voice. She dug the package out of her satchel, the parchment crinkling, and held it out. Caius took it, splitting the seal and unfolding the contents with careful efficiency. Then he looked at her, and suddenly he was a different person. The bleary confusion was gone, and with a commanding air he gestured for her to enter the house, shutting the door behind them.
"It says here that the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades," he said. Nivrea stared at him for a moment before he continued. "You'll have to be ready to take my orders. Are you prepared to take my orders, Nivrea?" Mutely, she nodded, not even able to form a coherent sentence. "Good. First things first, you're knew here, and you look it. Take this gold and buy yourself some armour or a proper weapon. "At this, he handed her a small purse. "Join a guild or do some freelance work, then come back to me for orders once you've settled in and feel comfortable." She nodded again, before turning and walking out of the house.
Once outside, she took a lungful of wonderfully fresh, crisp air, her head reeling. Novice in the Blades? Just what in Mundus did the Emperor want from her? What was going on, and why was she being dragged into it? Shaking her head, Nivrea started walking to the other side of town where she knew the local guildhalls were located. At least the Mages' Guild would be something familiar, or so she hoped.
She was sick of mystery already.