I. Proposition
Tel Mithryn, Solstheim
Fredas, 1st of Rain's Hand, 4E 201
The drowsy steward sat hunched over her desk; pen in position over the blank parchment, poised to carry out the will of her Master. The room was illuminated dimly by a dying candle, the wax spilling over the side of the candlestick like thick tears. Unless Varona finished her business soon, she would need to venture out of her mushroom dwelling and into the main tower to retrieve a fresh candle.
Dipping the pen into the inkpot, replenishing the ink on the tip, Varona connected pen to paper.
Her brow furrowed in deep concentration, and her tongue peeked between the corners of her lips as she focused on the task of writing.
The importance of the situation weighed heavily on her mind as her pen strokes halted at the end of the first paragraph, her thoughts lingering on how the contents of the letter would determine if she, and all the other occupants of Tel Mithryn, were to be both homeless and unemployed by the end of the month.
It had only been a matter of time, really, until the Redorans asserted their sovereignty over Solstheim to the infringing Telvanni wizard, but they had all been caught unawares at the abruptness of the impending eviction.
Varona shuddered as the harrowing events of the day flashed through her mind. Master Neloth had been livid, the rage visible in every fibre of his being as Varona read him the missive that had arrived by courier that morning.
Her suspicion that the message delivered was not particularly favourable to the Telvanni wizard was piqued when the courier, a scrawny lad of a nervous disposition, thrust the note in her hand as though it burned him, and could barely wait long enough to receive his dues before he bolted across the ashy ground back to Raven Rock. She knew the rumours that circulated about the Telvanni, in particular about Master Neloth and his… unorthodox, unethical methods, and she could understand why the poor boy wasn't keen on hanging around. Yet, the speed and urgency with which he left stuck her as odd. It was as though Master Neloth held some grudge against him, though Varona knew this was not the case, as Master Neloth never associated himself with the common folk.
Her suspicions increased further as she eyed the wax Redoran seal emblazoned on the letter to protect the contents from prying eyes. As far as Varona was aware, Neloth had no dealings with the Redoran Lords, so there was no good reason as to why they were now trying to communicate with him. Immediately, Varona knew this boded ill.
Dutifully, she took the letter immediately to Neloth, who bade her read it to him with his usual uncaring dismissiveness. With shaky hands, Varona had broken the seal and read the note.
"To the Telvanni Councillor known as Neloth, former proprietor of Tel Mithryn
We, the Ruling Council of Blacklight in conjunction with the Redoran Lords of Raven Rock are writing to notify you that your presence in Tel Mithryn is in direct violation to the Redoran claim to the ownership of the island of Solstheim and its territories.
You are required to surrender possession of your estate, Tel Mithryn, to House Redoran, the sovereigns of the island of Solstheim, and remove yourself hence from its borders permanently.
Force will be implimented should you fail to turn over possession of the premises to the First Councillor of Raven Rock, Lleril Morvayn before the end of Rain's Hand.
This is your first and only notice. You have 30 days.
Signed,
Varyis Mothlyn, Steward of the Ruling Council of Blacklight,
Lleril Morvayn, First Councillor of Raven Rock
Adril Arano, Second Councillor of Raven Rock"
Fear surged through her like a bolt of Neloth's lightning as he lunged at her with a speed and ferocity that belied his old age, and snatched the letter from the ruling Council from her hand – she had thought that he was going to strike her. His eyes had feverishly poured over the words: once, twice, three times, before he crushed the note in his fist, incinerated it in a flame spell, and hurled the ashes down the levitation tunnel, swearing and cursing House Redoran.
"How dare they!?" He had thundered, clenching his fists so tightly that his long nails punctured his skin. "I am a Master Wizard of House Telvanni! I cannot be thrown out of my tower like yesterday's garbage!"
His lack of concern for her or Talvas or Ulves or Elynea had been annoying, but unsurprising none-the-less. At least Neloth had his citadel in Sadrith Mora, a great, spiralling tower called Tel Naga to return to if the Redoran's were good on their threat. Talvas would likely go with him to finish his apprenticeship, but Varona had nowhere, and she expected that this was the same for Ulves and Elynea as well. They had been in Tel Mithryn since the Red Year, or just after it, which had rendered thousands of Dunmer dispossessed. They had been fortunate enough to find refuge in Tel Mithryn. Even if they were mere staff in Neloth's tower, this was their home too, and their only one at that.
"I can't leave Solstheim with my research only half done! There must be a way to circumvent the Redoran's low cunning, but what?" Neloth muttered furiously to himself, his hand momentarily rubbing his whiskered chin like he did when he considered the results of an experiment.
Varona, too, thought long and hard about the situation. It was hard to believe that the Redorans, who proclaimed the honour and virtuosity of their house were able to consciously make destitute the citizens of Tel Mithryn in the first place. But, Varona conceded, I suppose that the Councilors have little concern for the common folk, particularly those not of their ilk. Amongst the myriad of emotions that festered in her chest, Varona couldn't help but feel a little… disappointed in House Redoran. What had happened to civility among houses? What about justice for the common mer?
She knew Redorans, and had ascertained the values of House Redoran through osmosis. Many in Raven Rock would be shocked that their leaders could so ruthlessly snatch land from under the feet of Tel Mithryn's residence. Many more would probably be glad to see the backs of them. Tel Mithryn and Raven Rock were not particularly neighbourly to each other. Never-the-less, the degradation of Redoran principles high up in the hierarchy would cause discomfort to those closer to the roots.
Perhaps the solution to our problem comes from within Redoran's values? Varona wondered.
Redorans valued loyalty and family, two such principles that could be manipulated to preserve the ownership of Tel Mithryn. In her head, Varona formulated a plan that not only prevented their eviction, but also provided secure relations with the rival house in the future. The only issue was that it would undoubted be disagreeable to both parties involved, Telvanni and Redoran. Regardless, if it was the idea that prevented their homelessness, it was worth at least sharing with the cantankerous wizard.
Varona braved the fierce scowl, crossed arms and general unpleasantness of her employer to communicate this to him.
"Master Neloth? I have thought of a… way that you may keep your tower."
"Well? Spit it out then, woman!" Neloth's temper usually dangled on a fraying thread. This fact rang even truer now, and Varona was disinclined to make him even angrier. She hastily divulged the idea.
"You could consider marriage to a Redoran Councillor's daughter."
"That is entirely stupid! You must shut up more often Varona, if you know what's good for you." Neloth spat venomously, his expression darkening with distain.
"B-but Master Neloth, consider the possibilities of such an arrangement! Not only would you keep Tel Mithryn, but you would have a stake in Redoran affairs that concern Telvanni property in the future. A-and Redoran affairs on Solstheim as well!" Varona reasoned, halting the Wizard in his anger. He paused to consider her argument.
The lure of both keeping his lands as well as the potential for more power over his rival Telvanni and Redoran Lords was attractive to him, even if he ended up reluctantly saddled to a Redoran wench. Power, and the gaining of more power were easy bargaining chips to pull out when dealing with stubborn Telvanni mages.
Sensing the root of Neloth's hesitation, Varona pulled her trump card.
"And, if you truly dislike your wife that much, you could divorce her once you return to Vvardenfell and no longer need Tel Mithryn." With that, Varona left the decision to the Master Wizard.
Varona could practically see the gears in Neloth's head churning away, processing every fragment of information and carefully weighing his options. His hand had returned to his chin and Varona wrung her hands in front of her. A pregnant silence filled the room as Neloth deliberated and Varona gazed up at his unreadable expression in hope, until the former hefted a put-upon sigh.
"I assume you have someone in mind…?" Neloth trailed off, his tone akin to resigned, or as resigned as the arrogant mage would ever sound.
In actuality, Varona hadn't thought that far ahead. She had scarcely imagined that Neloth would actually go along with the scheme, and thus she had no further plan. This did, however, bing to light a rather large set-back in the plan: who in their right mind, with enough power and influence to veto the Council's decision, would give their daughter to Master Neloth in matrimony? Sure, there was power and influence to be gained by allying oneself to the most powerful mage in Morrowind, certainly, but at what cost?
As Varona racked her brains she recalled that there was a Councillor, a relative of a friend of hers, called Ravil Indoran, with two daughters and a niece under his care. One of the daughters, the eldest, was married, but perhaps with the right amount of tact and a considerable sum of revenue, he might be convinced to relinquish one of the remaining girls to the old wizard.
As Second Councillor to Blacklight, Ravil was, by all accounts, an elitist, and a hoarder of business contacts and wealth, making him and easy target for bribery, if it came to that. It was rumoured that he coveted the position of First Councillor, and was willing to go to desperate measures to seize the power needed to advance his rank. He might even relinquish one of his family, despicable though it seemed to Varona.
Varona related all this to Neloth, who waved his hand contemptuously.
"Yes, yes. I trust that you can handle all the menial details." After a moment, he added, "Make sure that this girl, whichever one you deem most suitable, is quiet, of sound mind and pleasing to the eye. If I have to marry her, she might as well be to my liking."
He then promptly dismissed her and returned to his experiments as though the interruption had never occurred.
And so now the dubious honour of finding Neloth a bride had fallen upon Varona.
Between reassuring the fears of Talvas, Ulves and Elynea, who had heard the shouting in the tower from various parts of the settlement, and revealing Neloth's impending marriage, much to everyone's shock and horror, the steward had only just found time to sit down, breathe, and compose the proposal.
While there was universal praise for Varona's wit and cunning in developing the whole scheme, Elynea and Ulves hadn't seem too pleased with the upcoming addition to their number. Ulves bemoaned having an extra mouth to feed, probably a picky mouth at that, and Elynea warned emptily that if the girl was anything like her husband, she would pack up and leave Tel Mithryn for good. Talvas was the only one who expressed sympathy.
"Poor girl. I wouldn't wish marriage to Master Neloth on anyone! Suppose he decides to use her in his experiments?"
"Better her than you. Or any of us for that matter." Elynea said curtly. Ulves grunted in agreement.
Elynea continued, "These noble types are all the same: they're all greedy for power and money. If she's anything like Master Neloth, then I'd say she deserves it! Still, Neloth and wife are two words that I never thought would go together in a sentence." She snorted mirthlessly, and Varona had to agree.
When everyone returned to their own corners of the tower to resume their daily routines, Varona returned to her steward's home to compose what would possibly be the hardest letter to write that she had ever written. Everything, from the words on the page down to the quality of parchment and ink used had to be perfect, for nobles were peculiar about such things and found insult in even the tiniest of nuances.
Hours after starting and several drafts later, and the tired steward blew on the drying ink and surveyed her handiwork proudly. The completed missive, appropriately grovelling in lieu of the wizard's salacious history with kidnapped Redoran maidens, praised the beauty and virtues of Ravil Indoran's daughter and niece, which had enticed the wizard to propose marriage to either of the girls.
It was a load of bollocks of course, but with the social, political and financial benefits of being associated with the Mage-Lords of Morrowind that Varona had proposed to Ravil to sweeten the deal, he would be stupid to decline.
She had no idea if either of the girls retained the qualities that Neloth had desired, but beggars can't be choosers, she justified. Besides, it was extremely unlikely that Neloth would be taking the poor woman back to Vvadenfell with him. It was doubtful that the marriage would last more than a decade, a mere blink of the eye in the long lives of elves. In the end, it wouldn't matter.
The only detail that tugged on Varona's conscience was the fact that the poor girl's reputation might be damaged beyond repair by the inevitable divorce. It made her feel a little bit sick to use someone so callously for personal gain only to throw them aside in disgrace once their usefulness has expired, but there was no other option that she could think of.
Satisfied with the missive, she folded it carefully and slotted it in an envelope, and sealed it shut with a wax seal imprinted with the emblem of House Telvanni. She knew there was no need to take the note upstairs to Neloth for his approval, and doing so would only incur the wizard's wrath at being interrupted for the second time that day. Varona prayed that none of them, Neloth or his employees, or the poor Redoran maid whose fate would be determined by the note, would come to regret Varona's scheme later.
Varona hefted a yawn. It was late and her work was done, for now. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she set the envelope against a stack of books, ready to begin its important journey to Blacklight in the morning. Putting away her ink and pen, and tiredly extracting herself from the uncomfortable wooden chair, Varona snuffed out the candle.