Chapter 2: Formalities
3E 427, 16 Last Seed. Seyda Neen
"Name?"
"Iorveth"
"Just Iorveth?"
"Iorveth Lhazar"
"Lhazar.. Dunmer.. Male." The old robed man mumbled to himself while he scribbled on a parchment scroll. His quill - made from the plume of a cliff racer - danced across the parchment, forming swirly letters. The document bore an official looking emblem of the Imperial Legion. Iorveth felt uneasy being questioned by the man; like a suspect being interrogated. While the man's attention was glued to the scroll in front of him, Iorveth took a moment to observe the room they were sitting it. It was a beautiful place. The ceiling was supported by thick hardwood beams, decorated with carvings in a grapevine pattern. From the wall opposite of Iorveth hung three tapestries. Each of them depicted a different figure; The left one depicted a hooded man, the middle one a mage and the one to the right a warrior resting after a tiresome battle. The room had no windows, and the only exits were through the door Iorveth arrived from and another door to his left, which was guarded by an imperial soldier clad in steel-plated armour. Sitting opposite of him, across an impressive looking desk cluttered with various scrolls and pieces of unspoiled paper, sat the Census and Excise agent busily writing down Iorveth's details.
"Hmm, interesting." The old man continued. "I see you're a dark elf. Were you born in Morrowind? Any relatives that live in Vvardenfell?"
"No." Iorveth replied. "I was born in Cyrodiil. I believe my father used to live in Morrowind, but that was decades ago. I have no relatives that live in Vvardenfell. At least, none that I know of."
"May I inquire about the purpose of your stay in the region?" The man dipped the quill in a small flask that stood on his desk and looked Iorveth straight in his eyes. The man looked old and fragile, but his piercing blue eyes still exerted an aura of authority. Iorveth hesitated a moment before answering.
"I have come here to make a living as a treasure hunter." Iorveth realized how silly that must have sounded. His answer sounded like that of a young child when asked what he wanted to become when he was all grown up. His suspicion was confirmed by a burst of laughter from the old man.
"Ah yes, I see at least a dozen of those come through every year. Less than a quarter survives longer than a couple of months and even less have anything to show for their time spent here when they come back to me a year later, looking to board the next ferry to the mainland. No, you'll have to do better than that, dunmer."
"How does a direct order from the imperial court mage sound?" Iorveth would've preferred to avoid using his trump card this early. He reached for the inner pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a sealed letter, which he handed to the Census and Excise agent.
"What is this?" The man mumbled as he inspected the letter. The seal resembled a dragon, portrayed on a diamond shaped background; The dragon banner - symbol of the Imperial crown. The expression on his face grew serious as he opened the letter and began reading. His eyes darted across the document from left to right, absorbing its contents.
The letter was written by the court mage of the emperor Uriel Septim VII himself. A breton by the name of Giruel Letienne. The breton had hired Iorveth to track down a number of artefacts. Powerful, legendary items that had been lost for many decades. The letter described the conditions of the agreement and served as a letter of good conduct if Iorveth's activities were ever questioned by the local authorities. Of course, the details of the artefacts themselves were not included in the document. Iorveth had committed that sort of information to memory. The items he was to find on the island were dangerous. The breton mage claimed that he wanted the artefacts for safekeeping, but Iorveth knew better than that. "Those mages are all the same; always looking to become more powerful. Too ambitious for their own good." Iorveth was sure the mage would tremble with excitement at the very idea of ever holding and using such an item, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about was coin, and that was something the mage could provide in spades.
The old man had finished reading the letter. With a frown he folded the document and handed it back to Iorveth. "Be careful, mister Lhazar," the robed man spoke. "I don't know about Cyrodiil, but Vvardenfell is a dangerous place. Dangerous beasts roam the land and its undercrofts, and then there's that damned blight. I won't question your abilities, but this place is different than any other that I know of. Do not underestimate it, or it'll be the end of you."
With that ominous warning, the man sprinkled some fine sand on the parchment for the ink to dry, pressed his seal on the document and rolled it into a tight cylinder. Finally, he handed the roll to Iorveth. "Hand this letter to the guard on your way out. Just exit through there and take the first door on your right. Be careful, dunmer, and good luck. May the Nine guide you."
As Iorveth approached the door to his left, the guard sprang to life and unlocked it. Without a word he allowed him to pass. As soon as he stepped through the opening, the guard closed the door with a loud bang. Iorveth could hear it being locked again from the other side. He followed the hallway to the first door to his right, which lead to a small courtyard. There was only one way to go, so Iorveth continued onwards and entered the building where he was greeted by another soldier. This one was wearing more richly decorated armour, polished to a shine. Iorveth guessed that the man was a high ranking officer in the Legion's ranks.
"Greetings, sir," Iorveth began. "I just came from the Census office, I was told to show you these papers on the way out?"
"Ah yes, I'll take those. I take it you were on the ship that arrived just now? Must've had it rough, with that storm and all." The man seemed lighthearted and spoke in a casual manner. Iorveth suspected that would have been another story if he had been a lesser member of the Legion himself.
"Aye, it was quite bad. But we made it through, evidently. Been a while since I witnessed such bad weather out on the water."
"My name is Sellus Gravius, traveller, but just call me Sellus. If you need any directions or information about the region, I'd be happy to provide it." Sellus extended his hand to Iorveth, which he accepted and shook.
"That is very kind of you, Sellus. In fact, I could use some directions. I'm looking for a tavern to stay in for a while. I also need information regarding certain items. Enchanted items. Any suggestions where to start?"
"Hmm," Sellus was silent for a moment. "Well, I suggest you start in Balmora then. It's a reasonably sized town about half a day's worth of walking from here. They have a couple of taverns, as well as a mages guild. They might be able to help you with the enchanted items you seek."
"Excellent, than that is what I will do. How do I get there?"
"Once you exit this building, cross the bridge that runs across the creek. Eventually, you should be able to see a path that leads to the east, past a Silt Strider port. You can either take the Silt Strider to Balmora, or follow the path until it takes you through a small passage marked by a couple of rock spires. From there the route should be clearly marked with signs."
"Excellent. I better make haste then if I want to make it there before nightfall. Thank you for your kind help, Sellus."
"Any time, traveller." Sellus Gravius concluded. "Perhaps we will meet again. Until then, the best of luck on your quest."
Iorveth exited the building and found himself in the middle of the port town of Seyda Neen. Directly in front of him stood the tall warehouse that he'd seen from the deck of the ship. The rest of the town consisted of small stone buildings and even smaller wooden shacks. A couple of people were wandering around the town, but for the rest it was suspiciously quiet. Most folks are probably inside, enjoying a lunch, Iorveth wagered. Come to think of it, he was pretty hungry himself. He spotted the bridge the imperial officer mentioned, and the path that curved to the east beyond it. There stood what could only be the so-called Silt Strider. The beast was unlike anything Iorveth had ever seen before. It stood on six legs, and two shorter ones that hung in the air like a pair of oversized feelers. The creature was huge, as tall as at least ten fully grown men standing on eachothers' shoulders. Its crescent shaped body was covered in a thick, chitinous shell. A small compartment was carved out of its back, which was where Iorveth assumed the passengers were supposed to be seated. He could hardly believe this thing was considered to be a means of transportation, but as he came closer a dark elf standing next to the creature greeted him.
"Greetings, stranger. Need a ride? We'll make a trip, just for you! Same low price," the caravaneer exclaimed.
While Iorveth was tempted to see the creature in action, he preferred to feel solid earth under his feet for a little while longer. Especially after spending two long days on the waters of the Inner Sea. It would also be a good opportunity to explore the Island a bit, discover what sort of flora it had to offer. And so it was that Iorveth declined the caravaneer's offer and began his hike to the town of Balmora.
