Chapter 4: Seyda Neen
With my first steps outside into Seyda Neen, into this island of Vvardenfell, I was both filled with feelings of excitement and fear: excited to be in a new land, to experience new thing, and fearful for the exact same reasons.
I looked around and observed Seyda Neen. Sellus Gravius was correct... there was not much to take in. I could count off the number of buildings in this town with my own two hands. With a grand total of nine, I began to wonder if Seyda Neen even qualified as a "town". There was a inn/restaurant (Seyda Neen Inn), a general store (Arrille's Trade House), four residential homes, and three abandoned houses, their windows boarded up, their walls overgrown with vines, and crumbling foundation.
But I was not here to pass judgment on the town's poor state of condition. I had a plan: to get situated, then leave for Balmoraas soon as possible. I decided that the first that needed to be done was to visit the trade house for clothes and supplies. Walking inside, a long counter stretched the entire length of the store. There seemed to be three main sections of the counter, each one dealing with a certain type of good: the left most section displayed all clothing items, the middle section brandished a selection of weapons, and the right most section held all food related provisions.
A single Altmer, or "High Elf" (tall, golden-skinned elves), stood behind the counter, well dressed in silk woven shirt and pants. I presumed that he was Arrille.
High Elves, as their name implies, all think very highly of themselves, going so far as to boldly claim that their race is somehow "more superior" then all others. All High Elves seemed to speak in a snobbish, diminutive tone when speaking to other races, to imply their "civilized stature." They all act so self-assured and so beside themselves... It was a shock that their race had not already been driven to extinction due to "self imposed ass kicking."
Much to my dismay (and lack of surprise), this High Elf was no different.
"Ah," he snobbishly said, finally noticing me, "what have we here? An Imperial, and fresh off the refugee boat, no doubt?" Was it that obvious? "What do you want?" He looked down on me, both figuratively and literally (High Elves are very tall).
I, resisting the urge to punch him right then, responded "I am in need of clothing, arms, and provisions."
He gave a slight, smug chuckle, responding "I am... sure you do." What an ass. "You may search the store, but be mindful that I will be observing you. Do not even attempt to steal from my store, or I'll burn you to a crisp."
Did I mention that High Elves are skilled in offensive magic? Yet another thing they freely boast.
I walked to the clothing section of the counter and scanned my eyes over the vast number of clothing options that were on display. The choices were great in number: robes, shirts, and pants of all colors, sizes, shapes, and materials. After fingering through the rows of clothing options, one in particular seemed to jump out from the rows. A set of white clothes (shirt, pants, hooded robe with golden cloth belt) caught my eye, and immediately, I could not say no to them.
As I pull each white piece from the pile, Arrille commented. "That set," he said , "has been particularly hard to sell. You could actually do me a favor in purchasing the lot." Though the aspect of helping him was not what I intended to do, I needed the clothes none the less. So, I placed the set of white clothing to the side and moved on to the next section of counter: weapons.
For some reason or another, I found myself skipping over the axes, bows, crossbows and spears and wandering directly to the swords. Again, in a similar fashion with the clothing, out of that was displayed, one sword in particular grabbed my attention. The sword, made of steel, was a straight edged katana, its hilt made of wood. The blade, however, was in less than adequate condition with patches of rust spotting the blade's length. Never the less, I took from the shelf the sword and the custom made back scabbard that hung next to it. Placing it on the counter atop the white clothing, I moved onto the final section for provisions.
The final section was the most varied in its selection of goods. Taking a single strapped messenger bag off a shelf, I began to fill it with supplies: cooking wear, silverware, candles, tinder, flint and steel, blankets, a pocket knife, a map of Vvardenfell, dried and salted beef links, bread, and a few skins of water.
With everything finally chosen, I brought the now full messenger bag to the counter and asked Arrille "How much for all of this?"
He, who had made notice to everything I had taken, responded "One thousand septums."
Overpriced was putting it lightly.
If stripping me of half my money was not enough, he gave a slight smile when he said the value, as if he took pleasure in taking my money. I reached into the leather money pouch and slammed onto the counter ten one hundred septum pieces. As he took the gold pieces and pocketed them, I asked Arrille "Are there any good places to eat here?"
As it turns out, the restaurant/inn was, conveniently enough, adjacent to the general store. With hunger slowly building, I decided to pay the restaurant a visit and eat a civilized meal for a change. Before I went, though, I first found myself a secluded section in town and made a change of wardrobe, tearing off the rags I wore and slipping on the white shirt, pants, and robe, tying the gold cloth belt around my waist, then strapping on the back-scabbard and sword. I went from lowly beggar to wealthy traveler in no more then a few minutes.
Now, better dressed, I entered the restaurant. It was of typical setup, the smells of the kitchen came wafting in from the back. The place was all but empty: the only others were a Dunmer couple who sat together. As I entered and shut the door behind me, my white clothing instantly caught the eyes of everyone in the room. To them, my appearance gave a message that said "I am wealthy and I pay well," which, needless to say, got me instant notoriety.
No more then a second after I had taken a seat by a East facing window, a pretty, young, Dunmer waitress approached, placed a menu in front of me on the table and said with a smile "Greetings, Sir. My name is Relosa and I will be your waitress for today. May I get you anything?"
She put on quite an act. Under the impression that I was a person of great wealth, she was trying her best to impress me (in hopes of a generous tip.) If only she knew that I, not a few hours earlier, was a common refugee. Though I wished to tell her of my true identity, I could not crush her spirit, so I embraced the "wealthy man" persona and answered her offer.
"Yes," I replied. "Could you tell me what types of tea you serve?"
"We have many types here, Sir," she responded, "as many as you can think of. Although we do not promote our restaurant as such, we pride ourselves as a sort of tea house."
"Well, since that be the case, please bring me a small kettle of the finest tea you have."
"Very good, Sir. Would you like anything with that, Sir?"
"Just sugar, if you would."
The girl nodded, repeated "Yes, Sir" then retreated to the kitchen to fetch my order. During her absence, I finally took time to reflect on everything that had happened. I could only remember as far back as the nightmare and waking up on that refugee boat. Past that... nothing. Like how a wave wipes the sand clean from a beach, all recollection before the nightmare was gone. How could this had happened? Perhaps-
"Here you are, Sir." The waitress returned and placed in front of me a silver platter, holding a small, copper kettle, steaming with tea, a clay mug, a small bowl of sugar, and a small dish of biscuits.
"Excuse me," I said, "but I did not order bread."
She smiled and responded "On the house, Sir. If you need anything else, do not be afraid to ask," then walked away.
It was astounding, really, what a simple change of wardrobe did for me. If I had appeared in the rags I originally had, I would have been thrown out the second I stepped in. I poured my tea, stirred two spoon fulls of sugar, and drank. When I asked for their finest tea, I got just that: the best cup of tea I' had ever drank. I spent the next hour simply sipping my tea and eating the food so gratuitously provided, watching the customers come and go. At the same time, I tried to recollect any memory from my past.
Unfortunately, I could not remember a single thing. I was able to recollect things like common knowledge. However, when I tried to remember things, such as my family, friends, and my childhood, I only drew up blanks.
After about three cups of tea, the kettle finally ran dry. When it did, I signaled the waitress and she came walking over, clearing my table.
As she cleaned, she asked "What be your name, Imperial?"
"Zaden," I responded, still trying to get use to the new name.
"I have not seen your face around here, Zaden. Are you from here or are you a traveler?"
I decided that Icould not continue lying to her any further, so I finally decided to reveal the truth. "Actually," I said, "I am neither. I reality... only two hours ago, I was a common refugee, on a boat inbound from the mainland."
The constant smile of the waitress's face disappeared quicker then a shadow in the night. "So," she said slowly, "you are not of Morrowind?"
I shook my head. "No, I am not."
In a split second, her mood turned from friendly to hostile. Without taking the tray with her, she turned away and stormed into the back room without saying a word. What caused this abrupt change in demeanor was a mystery to me. She then returned a few minutes later, but this time, two others were with her, both Dunmer males.
"I am afraid you are going to have to leave, Imperial," said one male.
"What is this?" I asked. "Who are you?"
"I am the owner of this restaurant," he said, "and you are going to leave, now!"
"For what reason? I have done nothing wrong."
"Leave now," he demanded, "or we shall throw you out!"
I shook my head. "I am not going anywhere-"
Just as I had finished that sentence, I was grabbed from behind by a Dunmer I had not noticed. With a tight grip, he forced me toward the door, swung it open, and literally threw me outside, throwing me flat onto my stomach. As I got back up to my feet, the Dunmer restaurant owner yelled these words:
"N'wah scum," he yelled. "We need not your kind here. Leave Seyda Need and do not return!" then slammed the door shut.
Once back on my feet, and as I brushed the dirt off my white robe, a female Imperial approached.
"Are you ok?" asked the Imperial. "I observed your quarrel from afar. I do not know what you said or did to anger those Dark Elves, but I could see flames in their eyes."
I shook my head. "I am at a loss as well," I responded. "I know not what I did either. All I remember is that when I told the waitress that I was not of Morrowind, she instantly became hostile and got those two thugs to throw me out."
The Imperial smiled and shook her head. "And that is exactly what enraged them," she said. "Because you told that you were not born in Morrowind, you instantly became 'outlander scum' or 'N'wah' in their eyes. There is nothing the Dark Elves hate more then an outlander."
"I see," I responded. As I continued to brush dirt off of me, a thought occurred, and I began to smile.
"Why are you smiling, stranger?" she asked.
"I am smiling," I said, "because they threw me out before I paid for my meal."