Chapter 1

It is a time of war. The Nords of Skyrim have invaded the island of Vvardenfell inside the Resadyn province. The Nordic allies, the Orcs, have joined in the attack, but even their combined might are unable to push back the native Dwemer and their Chimer allies. The ferocity of both sides is truly a thing to fear and the Nords would have the advantage, but they are not as familiar with the terrain as either of their opponents. To make things worse, they are not in their element while fighting on the side of Red Mountain, the volcanic heart of the island.

The native race of Vvardenfell, the Dwemer, is just as ferocious as any other race of mer or man. Though they prefer to use their animunculi to fight most of the time, they are not to be taken lightly. Their magical and technological proficiency are unmatched by any other race past or present, and their prowess on the battlefield is just as terrifying. Their most recent allies and former enemies, the Chimer learned this to great effect during their wars.

The Chimer are not native to Vvardenfell. Instead, their ancestors followed the prophet Veloth from the ancestral homelands in the southwest and eventually settled in Resadyn. The Dwemer and the Chimer both share a common ancestor in the form of the Aldmer, or First Ones. Their common ancestor did not stop them from eventually starting a war with each other over their beliefs.

The Chimer are staunch Daedra worshipers, while the Dwemer view their beliefs as strange. The Dwemer preferred logic and reason to worship, and that belief was viewed among the Chimer as an outright affront to their gods. This belief, and the Dwemer's refusal to believe as they do, caused a rift among them and this caused the war between them that lasted hundreds of years. The Nordic invasion has caused them to put aside their differences and form an alliance. During this war, two men rose up to become legends in their own time: Lord Nerevar Indoril, the head of House Indoril and Dumac Dwarf-king, the king of the Dwemer clans.

The echoes of the Thu'um race across the surface of the volcanic center of Red Mountain as the Nord warriors and their Orc allies battle against the combined forces of the Chimer and the Dwemer. Jurgen Windcaller leads his forces in their losing battle against Lord Nerevar and his Dwemer ally Dumac Dwarf-king. They had hoped to regain some lost territory, but their opponents have kept that from coming true. Even with the use of their Thu'um, it's just not meant to be.

"Dumac," Lord Nerevar commands, his golden armor of House Indoril splattered in blood. "Now!"

A volley of bolts from hidden Dwemer crossbowmen cuts down Orcish berserkers before they can get close enough to crash into the ranks of light infantry. The survivors are cut down by a well-timed charge and anyone unlucky enough to survive that is finished off by Lord Nerevar himself. The combined forces, working in perfect unison, push their opponents backwards until Jurgen Windcaller himself orders a full retreat.

The Nord master of the Thu'um watches as his forces leave the battlefield and he expects his opponents to rout his forces, but to his surprise, they don't. He has heard of the honor the Chimer people possess, but he always thought that it was just a rumor. A blistering wind blows across the volcanic surface and his black, long hair shifts slightly along with it. A small smile forms when he realizes just how lucky he is to be allowed to leave with his life.

Deep inside, he knows that his chances of victory might have been greater if his homeland of Skyrim wasn't in the middle of a war of succession. Secondly, he realizes that his forces are tired and weary from battle, and so he disbands the alliance on the spot. As he shows his back to his enemy and leaves the battlefield, he goes away humbled and wondering how strong Voices could fail. He makes a promise to himself that he will learn from this defeat.

"You're not going after them," Dumac asks as he stands, covered in blood, next to his friend. He removes his helmet and his braided beard cascades out. His hair follows shortly afterward. He wipes some sweat off his brow. His skin color is a dark grey, almost black, like the rest of his race. His eyes are a slightly lighter color than that of his skin; a racial trait inherited from living under mountains most of his existence.

Nerevar simply shakes his head. "Our enemy is defeated. There is no honor is routing an enemy in retreat."

"That belief will be the death of you one day."

"Maybe," The Chimer general counters. "But that is not today. Come, let us return and gather our strength."

"Come with me to my fortress. We will drink and celebrate our victory."

"A tempting offer, my friend," Nerevar says as he lays his short spear against his the pauldron of his golden House Indoril armor. "But I must return to Mournhold and my wife. Almalexia and I have some business to attend to."

"A shame," Dumac holds his helmet under his free arm. "You will miss out on the party."

"We can always celebrate at another time. Resadyn is safe for the moment, and your fortress is still yours. That alone is a victory itself. Farewell, my friend." Nerevar bows respectfully to the Dwemer king and then joins his army as they withdraw from the battlefield.

The boat trip from the island of Vvardenfell to mainland Resadyn/Morrowind takes a couple days and is relatively uneventful. As they reach land once again, Nerevar looks back at the island and sees black smoke billowing out of Red Mountain. Thinking nothing of it, the Chimer general departs the boat and is greeted by his friends Voryn Dagoth, and Sotha Sil. Each man greets each other and then they make their way towards the massive, reinforced walls of the capital city.

Lord Voryn Dagoth, the head of House Dagoth, is one of Nerevar's most loyal advisers. His golden-colored skin is covered by a simple black robe with red trim along the arms, legs, and collar. The robes bear the insignia of his house, an insect. A silver short sword is resting in it's sheathe under his belt. The golden colored iris scans his friend and the blood stains covering his armor.

Sotha Sil is part of House Sil, a relatively lesser known Chimer house. His robes shift slightly as he bows to his student. Unlike Nerevar, he is completely bald with his head being covered by the hood of his robes. His magic is more powerful than Nerevar or any of the other advisers. A simple Dwemer made dagger hangs from his belt.

"How went the battle Lord Nerevar," Voryn Dagoth asks.

"The Nordic and Orcish army was routed," He answers. "It was a sound victory."

"Did you retrieve any Dwemer, Nordic, or Orcish armor or weapons," Sotha Sil asks. "I would very mush like to study them."

"I would, but the Dwemer are our allies and the Orcs would not let me near their dead. I am sorry, my friend."

"I must find another way, then."

Nerevar pats Sotha Sil's shoulder and all three men make their way into the palace itself. Each man breaks away from the small group the deeper in they go, until Nerevar is greeted by Almalexia herself. As usual, the wife of the Chimer general is accompanied by at least two of her personal guards; the Hands of Almalexia. They all bow and Nerevar returns the bow in kind.

Almalexia's auburn hair is tied back into a bun but a couple strands fall into her face when she bows her head once again. Her lips are covered in a lipstick that is slightly darker than her hair. Her golden eyes lift before her head and fall onto her husband and king and a small smile forms. She is considered –not just by her husband, servants, or anyone else close- to be one of the most beautiful women, if not the most beautiful in the entire capital.

The regalia she wears are nothing more than an armored bra, pauldrons similar to the Ordinator/Hands with the exception of the symbol of House Indoril engraved into it. She wears a belt with sashes covering the front and back of her hips. A horned crown rests on her brow and tattoos cover her stomach, arms, and lower legs. She does not wear any gloves or boots, and prefers not to.

The Hands of Almalexia, like their name suggests, are the personal guard of Almalexia herself. Their armor is identical to that of the more common Ordinators patrolling, but their color is not a golden hue. Instead, it's a bronze-like color and the enchantments provide an extra layer of protection. Each Hand has an enchantment that's unique to that individual. Their weapons, like their armor, also carry deadly enchantments.

Their main purpose is to patrol the city along with their Ordinator cousins punishing criminals and keeping the people safe, but recently they have been slowly assigned to a more guard-like role. They've been rarely seen patrolling the city streets in the past couple months, leaving that job to the Ordinators and the recently created High Ordinators. Personally, they actually prefer to keep watch over their king and queen and whatever honored guests visit. Their armor shifts as they bow to their king.

"Welcome back, my lord." Almalexia greets him.

"Thank you, my dear. I see that you made it back safely."

The Healing Mother steps to the side, followed closely by her personal guard. They walk in silence until they reach the central courtyard. Almalexia stops and faces her husband and dismisses her guard with a wave of her hand. Nerevar faces his wife and lays his spear across his pauldrons.

"I don't understand why you went against my advice and aided the Dwemer. We're at war with them."

Nerevar groans and removes his helmet. His features match that of the rest of his race; golden colored skin and golden eyes. He is young and handsome with almost sculpted features. His hair cascades down to his shoulders as he removes his helmet. He moves some strands that stick to his skin from his sweat out of his face. He sighs. "It's true that we fight the Dwemer, but it is also true that Dumac is a friend of mine. I will not allow him to be killed, regardless of the hostilities we face. The Nordic invasion was a threat not only to us or the Dwemer, but to all mer. My aid prevented them from taking lands that rightfully belong to us."

"The Dwemer are a powerful force when united. They do not worship the Daedra like we do."

The Chimer Hortator sighs once again and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand why you seem to have this paranoid delusion that they'll rise up."

"Don't you remember that House Dagoth and the Rourken clan of the Dwemer were not at the forming of the Council?"

"That Council brought peace between our kind. Vivec, Sotha Sil, and you were instrumental in keeping the peace between us, or did you conveniently forget that?"

Almalexia bites her tongue and admits defeat, this time.

"Call for Voryn. I have a task for him."

Almalexia summons a servant and gives him Nerevar's message, and the servant quickly leaves. Nerevar walks over to a pond and sticks his covered hand into the water and watches as the dried blood starts to wash off with each time the subtle current washes around it. The Lady of Mercy joins her husband and sits down on the stone bench beside the pond. The Hortator looks up at her and their eyes meet, but neither one says anything. Eventually, the servant returns with Voryn Dagoth and then he disappears just as fast.

"You summoned me, Lord Nerevar?"

Nerevar faces his advisor and stands straight up. "Yes, I did. I need you, Vivec, and Sotha Sil to return to the island and talk with Dumac about the terms of our treaties."

Dagoth bows and leaves to gather the other advisers and prepare a ship. The king and queen of House Indoril are once again left alone in the central courtyard. "Leave me."

Almalexia gets to her feet and nods, leaving her husband alone and surrounded by the serene picture of him in deep thought. The various flowers and plants that fill the courtyard have always given her a measure of peace whenever she tends to them. Her husband rarely enters her own private sanctuary, and this scene that she sees makes her happy. Still, something doesn't feel quite right.

The only thing that stops her as she goes to leave is that feeling in the back of her mind. Her body doesn't listen to her mind's commands as she watches her husband sitting, still in full battle armor, staring down into the pond. A small smile forms as her Hands leave first and wait obediently for their mistress. The guards stationed outside shut the doors once she finally leaves.