My name is Han lu Urshar. I am son to my father Adairan and to my mother Virisa. We are Dark elves, or Dunmer to those who prefer proper names. Although my people hail from the north east corner of the continent Tamriel, I was born here in Cyrodiil. This is where I lived my entire life, although, not in the same part for more than a few weeks at a time.

My parents had both been born in Morrowind on the island of Vvardenfell. My father from the harsh desert ashlands around the volcano at the center of the island. My mother was from the eastern coast and the differences in their upbringing were plain to see even on their faces. My father's skin was tough, weathered, and a dark grey color. His eyes were red like most dark elves, but squinted from years of flying ash and dirt. In contrast, my mother's skin was much lighter, almost blue and she had big, bright eyes.

I took after my father and although much less fair, I preferred the rugged look. What I didn't prefer was the short stature I'd inherited. At five foot eight inches, many men and elves towered over me, but the few who had ever tried lording their size over me didn't stand upright for long. That's right, I'm a fighter. I was following in my father's work and if you couldn't fight, you didn't last. Of course, fighting is the very last option in blackmail. It's difficult to get paid when your mark is dead, but sometimes, when we'd exhausted every other option we had to slit a few throats so our next mark would take us seriously. Such was the case on the night everything went wrong.

Many of my memories from that time have suffered and eventually you'll understand why, but the events of that night haunt me with crystal clarity. I was dressed in more finery than I'd ever worn before in an attempt to disguise myself as a nobleman. Green silk shirt. Dark velvet pants. A jacket with so many brass buttons that the weight made me want to slouch involuntarily. My shoes alone cost nearly as much as the horse under me and my parents were dressed in a similar fashion.

Our mood was dour as the three of us made the trip from the city of Anvil to the Imperial capital. Dad was never one to overthink a job, but I could tell that this one had him on edge. Before coming into view of the city, he twisted in his saddle to address mother and I. "Killing our target shouldn't be a problem, but getting out safely is going to take careful coordination," he reminded us.

I nodded with an uneasy grin, trying to put Adairan at ease. "Yes, we've beaten that horse to death dad. We've gone over it many times."

Adairan smiled across to me, his angular face relaxing a bit. "As much as we plan ahead, you know how everything can change in an instant."

"Do you have your hip flask?" Virisa spoke with much more confidence than my father. She sat astride her steed as if she were a princess. Perfect posture. Elegant even with her riding cloak covering her gown.

Rather than answer, I drew the brass flask from my pocket. It was filled with a powerful potion of slow fall. After killing our target, we'd have to jump out of the tallest tower in miles to escape. The ingredients infused in my flask would slow my downward fall and allow me to land safely more than a hundred feet below. We'd tested it a week earlier at an oceanside cliff. Adairan had downed a dose of the mixture and took a running jump off the cliff toward the ocean below. Mother and I had waited below in a rowboat to take him back to shore. The sight of Adairan falling at a tenth of normal falling speed had been comical enough on its own, but when he started pumping his arms, mocking a sprint in mid air, it drove mother and I to tears of mirth.

My father's deep rough voice drew me away from my reminiscing. "Remember, we aren't just jumping to the ground. We want to drift as far over the inner wall as possible to get away from the palace and into the city. Then we'll head for the western gate before the alarm is raised and the guards close it. It shouldn't be hard to blend into the crowds in the streets."

"And from there, we go to the stable where Bargrum and Fargoth will be waiting with horses," I interjected. Bargrum, the orc and Fargoth, the wood elf had been in my father's employ as long as I could remember. They might as well have been my uncles.

I pulled ahead until I could see over the next ridge and reigned in my horse. The view of the Imperial city over the bay never ceased to awe me. The high stone walls were unmatched by any other in Tamriel. By conquering the whole continent, Cyrodiil had increased trade everywhere and all roads lead back here. Every trader that passes through inevitably spends gold and trades some of his fineries. The result, the ultimate economy. People became rich and could hire architects and artisans to try and outdo their neighbors in decorum. The city may as well have been paved with gold. The bards and poets couldn't have spoken any more highly of the capital even if it had been true.

As my parents drew up next to me, they too paused to take in the grandeur of the city of white stone. I noticed my father's crimson gaze drawn specifically to the tower in the center. White gold tower, seat of power in Cyrodiil, palace of the Emperor, and the site of what would be my life's greatest failure.

We pressed on to the city gates and turned away from the road at the sight of the stables. Fargoth was already there, posing as the stable worker. He looked the part with his wild curly hair and wiry form. Bargrum was hauling bales of hay to the corrals, but he looked more suited to the battlefield than a stable. Still, I doubted anyone would question his disguise.

"Greetings lords and lady." Fargoth put on a show for the benefit of any passersby. "How may I help you?"

"We need to stable our horses for the evening."

"Of course sir." The wood elf took the reins as my father swung his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. Bargrum did the same for my mother and I. We all pressed in close to hear Fargoth whisper. "The stable hands are tied and gagged. So far so good."

Adairan cooly nodded his approval. "Perfect. Stick to the plan and nobody will ever doubt our capabilities again. We'll be more feared than the dark brotherhood."

Bargrum smiled, a truly gruesome sight with the shape of his jaw and his pointed teeth, even as orcs went. "Yes master Adairan. It's truly an honor to be with you on such a historic day."

My father's smile showed warmth. He clapped the orc's shoulder. "You all know what to do. Steady men."

Adairan offered Virisa his arm and they strode off toward the city gate together. I hung back a moment and removed my sword belt from around my shoulders. My blade was a Nord made broadsword with special silver inlay. It had been a gift to me from my father four years ago. At fourteen I'd barely been able to swing it. The pure silver was specifically requested, because while steel was strong and reliable, there were some creatures in Tamriel that were immune to regular physical attacks. It wasn't often I encountered undead and I'd thankfully never faced a werewolf,but if the need arose my blade was capable of slaying the living and banishing the dead.

"Would you look after this Bargrum? It would be a shame if I were to leave it with the guards at the party."

I held it out to the Orc with a single outstretched hand, but he received it by clasping the scabbard tightly with both hands as if in reverence. "I will safeguard your blade young master." His voice was guttural to the point that it interfered with his annunciation. Many men and elves had taken him for a simpleton over the years. While simple he may be, I knew him to have unswerving loyalty, great battle prowess, and even surprising wisdom at times. "May you be safe without it. Divine speed."

I waved passively before joining my parents. I stood to father's left. The walk to the front gate would take a few minutes. When there were no other bystanders to hear us, my father looked to me. "Son, are you sure you're ready for this?" Almost doggedly, I nodded once again wishing he would stop asking. "Because if you're not, we can still call it off."

I was so shocked, I stumbled. When I caught my stride again, I looked at him incredulously. "You're joking. After all the palms we greased, the arms we twisted, after months of preparing, you would just give it all up?"

"When you are unwilling to admit that an idea might be bad, it is often a sign of desperation. I'm not desperate for this job son. Are you?"

"Dad, all our troubles can be laid to rest. Our work will only take a fraction of the effort in the future."

"That's not worth a thing if we fail. I made the preparations, but in the end, everything will rest on your shoulders. So I leave the decision up to you. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

I didn't answer right away. I'd been taught to take serious consideration whenever I was asked a serious question. We were nearing the gate, guarded by two of the Emperor's legionnaires by the time I nodded again. I was resolute, just like my dad had been so many times.

We passed through the city without attracting attention. It wasn't that hard. Everyone was in the streets, celebrating the Emperor's birthday. Today was a heyday for pickpockets. Most of the guards had abandoned their heavy iron armor for the day and monitored the crowd in plain clothes. That way, they'd be fast enough on their feet to give chase, should the need arise.

Colorful banners hung from every surface, most bearing the Emperor's crest. A dragon with its head, wings, and tail positioned so that it formed a diamond shape.

We walked through the city until reaching the center. The guards let us through the gate into the courtyard of White Gold tower. Currently, the courtyard was set up to receive birthday guests. The bushes and gardens were trimmed perfectly and tended carefully. Colorful peacocks wandered at will. We passed an elven musician providing relaxing music with his stringed lute. He nodded graciously from his stone bench as we passed.

As we neared the base of the tower and joined the line of noble men and women awaiting entrance, my father leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Last chance. Once we're inside, there's no turning back."

I smiled and replied, "This is going to be our finest hour." Adairan took a deep breath and set his face.

At the front of the line, a legionnaire with an impressive mustache stopped us. My father gave up our invitations. "Ah, you represent the royalty of Morrowind?"

"Yes good sir. King Helseth regrets not being able to attend in person." This much was true. Hlaalu Helseth had sent his son and his sons wife to represent him at the party. However, the only new relationships they would be forming would be with the fish at the bottom of the lake we dumped them in. I was just thankful that I hadn't gotten any blood on the invitations.

The Legionnaire nodded several times as he examined the official documents. "I hear Morrowind is facing many troubles these days. Do you have any weapons to check?"

"No, we left those with the servants," father answered.

The Imperial nodded and waved us on to the next station. Two men sat at a desk with decorative metal bracers. "Arms please," they politely requested. These silver appendages were used for many occasions. Once locked onto your arm, they would begin draining your magic power. Even though they checked for weapons at the door, some mages could summon a copy of a weapon out of thin air. It just so happened that my mother and I were both skilled in the arts of conjuration. She preferred fighting with spears, but I liked variety. After years of practice, I could conjure throwing knives, swords, axes, even a bow and arrows.

To fix the problem that the bracers presented us, Virisa and I both had enchanted pieces of fabric wrapped around our right arms, hidden under our sleeves, designed to block the draining effect of the bracers. Sure they cost a fortune, but this was not a low budget project. Adairan however, had never had much skill in magic, so he felt no need to wear one.

From there, we were escorted to an enormous spiral staircase. A tall slender butler greeted us at the bottom with a low bow. "Please take your time ascending the steps. We wouldn't want the lady to faint, would we?"

We chuckled and father answered, "Thank you Serjo." He used the word Serjo instead of Sir as that was the custom in Morrowind where we were supposed to be from. Saying sir would make an observant person suspicious.

I smiled on the way up. These Imperials and their weak tempered nobles. My mother could sprint up these steps to the top without stopping, as could I. This was why we could make a living by extortion in Cyrodiil. Humans always seemed to advertise their weaknesses somehow. And what's more, they accepted their weakness rather than ridding themselves of it.

A pair of guards stood on the stairs to stop anyone from going higher than the party. They politely directed us to the entryway of a ballroom. A servant dressed in finery stood at the entrance and my father whispered into his ear. The man strode to the middle of the entrance and announced loud enough for all to hear.

"Lord Adairan Urshar, lady Virisa Urshar, and their son Han lu Urshar!" The announcer strode to the side as my parents entered the room arm in hand. I followed exactly three paces behind, head high, chest out, and white gloved hands clasped behind my back.

I calmly searched the crowd, seeing the Emperor on the opposite side of the room. All eyes were on us and for a brief moment the Emperor and I made eye contact. The man was past middle aged, his hair a solid silver in color. Still, he showed no weakness in his demeanor. He stood like a young man with an old mans face. His eyes… His eyes were piercing, in an unsettling way. I politely bowed my head in acknowledgement before his attention was again drawn to someone closer at hand.

This was the simple part. I stayed near my parents and they mingled with the nobility. Nobody had ever met us before and many were eager for news from Morrowind. Adairan had taken such care in constructing his false life story that it amazed even me. I'd never been to Morrowind, but my father's enthusiasm in telling his fake tales of the land nearly had me convinced that we were in fact sent here by King Helseth.

In a corner, a musical group played waltzes for the nobles who were feeling spry. I tried to avoid eye contact with any member of the opposite sex, particularly those of my age. I had no intention of putting my mother's dancing lessons to use unless I had to.

After a half hour of spinning tales and laughing with numerous nobles from all parts of Tamriel, we were approached by a tall proud man of around thirty years. He bowed deeply, " Lord Urshar, I am Geldell Septim."

Father and I bowed in return and mother curtsied. "An honor Sera, to be approached by the Emperors firstborn."

"My father wishes to make your acquaintance," he invited with a gracious flourish of his hand.

"We would be delighted," my father replied. We followed him to where Emperor Uriel Septim conversed with anyone close at hand. Two guards stood poised behind him, not just legionnaires, but no doubt members of the Blades, Uriel's secretive personal task force. The Emperor was dressed in a purple and red cloak covering other extraordinary garments. His graying hair and minor wrinkles revealed years of struggle to maintain his Empire, but his eyes, those piercing blue eyes seemed to see all. I did my best to conceal the chill that ran up my spine.

For a moment, under his gaze, I broke out in an irrational sweat. Could he know? Maybe his spies had found out about our plans. I shook myself. 'Stop being paranoid!' I thought angrily. I wouldn't fail this mission.

Geldell introduced us. "Father, this is Adairan Urshar, his wife Virisa, and their son, Han lu."

We once again bowed graciously. "It is an honor to be in your presence your highness," mother offered.

"A pleasure to greet you to my court," Uriel replied. I'd thought that an Emperor's voice would be large and magnanimous, but he was calm and gracious like the other nobles. There was however, something different in his voice. I quickly assumed it to be an air of confidence from his position and forgot about it. "You've already met my son Geldell. This is my daughter Lunea." He indicated a girl just younger than I, as a young man escorted her back from the dance. Her blue eyes were nearly as piercing as her father's and her blond hair was tied up with strings of pearls.

She curtsied, the hem of her white dress piling on the floor. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The Emperor searched around him briefly, "I'd introduce you to the Empress, but she seems to have disappeared into the throng."

My heart was racing and I quietly took deep breaths to calm myself. My father caught my eye. His hand clasped around his wrist behind his back. His free hand was flat. He was telling me that now was not the time. I calmed my pulse and once again, smiled politely.

"My court has never had the pleasure of your presence before. I hear King Helseth suffers from extraordinary difficulties in his lands."

"Yes, the quarantine on the island of Vvardenfell makes it difficult to conduct business."

They went on about politics and I watched the Emperor, trying not to draw attention. However, his daughter's glances became increasingly difficult to ignore. I kept trying, heedless until my mother discreetly snapped a finger at me and gestured to the girl. I clenched my teeth and kept my eyes from rolling in their sockets.

Placing a hand on my father's shoulder, I said, "Pardon the interruption, but perhaps I could ask the lady for a dance."

"Of course," Uriel accepted. I offered Lunea my arm and escourted her to the center of the room among couples of humans and elves.

"I must apologize in advance," I insisted. "Put a sword in my hand and I can move like a cat, but as soon I enter the ballroom, I grow two left feet."

The girl giggled. "You know, I think I've heard that one before."

I chuckled too. "Yes, I imagine you do a lot of dancing, being the Emperor's daughter and all." I took her left hand with my right and placed my left on her waist, then we joined the other dancers.

"Don't you," she asked? "Don't they dance in Morrowind?"

"On occasion," I answered. "Imperial politics are much more polite than ours. Mostly we scheme and plot while keeping a watchful eye on our backs." Like my father, I'd spent a lot of time practicing my cover. However, I'd had to study much more than he since I hadn't been to Morrowind since leaving as a young baby.

"Well, that would explain why you boast of your swordsmanship. Do you have to fight often?"

"Yes, Morrowind is a dangerous place. Unless you want to hide behind city walls your whole life a dunmer has to fight. And even then..." I let the sentence hang unfinished as I spun Lunea in circles.

"So is that all you do for fun? You just fight?"

"You make me sound like a Nord." She grinned at my jest. "Actually I study magic too. It's still aimed mostly toward combat, but at least I can lay claim to some scholarly hobbies."

"And what of your countrymen? I don't meet many people from Morrowind."

"Honestly, dark elves aren't very pleasant company. That's why..." I almost said that's why my father left.

"That's why what," she pressed?

I bit my lip, trying not mess up the dance, but scrambling for a different ending to the sentence. "That's why I... uh, mostly keep to myself. Unless you love slandering your political opponents or making slaves miserable, the only good group activity left is hunting and fighting."

Lunea cocked her head at me as if looking at me in a new light. "You're much more open than the other dark elves I've met. Like you said, they only ever want to talk about others faults."

"Do you associate with many Dark elves," I asked?

"Whenever I can. You can often be a prideful and staunch people, much like the Nords to the North, but at least you can hold an intelligent conversation." The pace of the dance suddenly increased and it took all my concentration to perform the movements correctly. Lunea however, seemed completely at ease, almost as if she were leading the movements rather than I. As the song came to a close she fanned herself.

"I think that's enough dancing for the moment." She held out her hand for me to lead her off the floor and I prayed thanks to Azura that I hadn't stepped on her foot. I glanced across to my mother who made a circle in the air with her finger. She wanted me to continue entertaining the princess, though whether it was a part of the mission or she just enjoyed seeing me going through the motions of courting, I couldn't tell.

"Tell me Han lu, you mentioned slaves. Is slavery still prevalent in Morrowind?"

"Yes," I answered simply. I didn't much care for the idea of slavery myself, but for the purposes of my disguise, I had to be a convincing Telvanni noble. "Most of the ruling class are insistent on defending their rights to own slaves. As I said, they don't make pleasant company."

"Aren't most of the slaves beast races?" By beast race, she meant the Khajiit, the cat people of Elsweyr and Argonians, the lizard people from Black Marsh.

"Yes, most are, but a sentence of slavery is also a popular and practical punishment for criminal activity," I explained. "So no race is exempt."

"I'm sorry," Lunea apologized, " but that dance made me feel a bit warm, could we step out onto the balcony?" I guided her through the crowd and out a decorative archway. The balcony extended halfway around the tower. I noticed as we stepped into the cool night air that the only people out here were couples, spaced out along the railing far enough to have privacy.

My heart leaped into my throat. "You, um... seem to be very at ease. Most humans are a little... put off by dark elves."

She leaned back against the stone rail, showing off the graceful arc of her back. "Hmm, it's probably the red eyes. I've lived with such a variety of guests all my life that I suppose I'm used to it. Everyone is different, but eventually you start to see traits that all members of a race have in common." I walked up to the rail beside her and pretended to look over the city, but really, I was taking the opportunity to scan the area and plan my jump for after the assassination.

"For example," she leaned in close to my ear and whispered. "Dunmer are used to secrets and subterfuge. They relax rather than draw back when you speak like this." She was right. I could almost feel her lips brush my ear, but I hadn't budged. I got the feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing to my heart rate.

"Well you aren't exactly the most threatening person," I defended, sure to say it in a joking manner. She withdrew, her point made. I scrambled to keep the conversation going. "So I've told you what I do for fun and what my countrymen do. Is this what you do?"

She shot me a questioning glance. "What's that?"

"Steal the the hearts of young traveling nobles the day before they must return home?"

Her wry smile gave away the answer. "It's a hobby unique to my position."

I laughed without trying to conceal it and was about to respond when a male voice called from the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served!"

"I ought to return you to your father," I quickly decided.

"Wait," Lunea interjected. "Perhaps you could join us. The conversation at my father's table is always the same and has come to bore me." I bit my lip. That wasn't a part of the plan, but it would put me closer to the Emperor.

Thinking quickly, I answered," It would be my pleasure," and escorted her away.