Chapter 7

Nerevar stops just outside of Sadrith Mora, the headquarters of House Telvanni and their powerful mages. Unlike House Redoran and their squat, utilitarian houses; the Telvanni live in tall, mushroom-like towers with no access to people who lack magic. There are no staircases and much less of a guard presence than the Hlaalu or Redoran. These mages don't want to be disturbed and don't really care about the affairs of the other houses.

Nerevar removes his helmet and rubs his temples. "Must I deal with these mages again?"

Llothis, who accompanied him on his second trip out, stands beside his king and looks up at the tower looming within the heart of the city. "We need them to name you Hortator, my lord."

"I know that," He rubs his temples once again. "Its just that dealing with mages is always drawn out and tedious. I always seem to get a headache before even going inside. Talking to them just makes it worse."

"Their vote carries weight."

"Maybe so, but they care little for the affairs of anyone who isn't part of their House. Actually, they care little about the affairs of anyone within their house. They just stay to themselves and whatever they're experimenting on."

"We need their help against the Dwemer. Their magic would give us an advantage over the Dwemer centurions."

"I realize that, but a Hortator is the symbolic…leader of the house. House Redoran was easy to secure the vote; all I had to do was kill that hypocrite. Dealing with mages is much different. They will try to avoid the subject, or will just ignore it altogether. I have to find some way to hold their attention long enough to give me their votes."

"How will you do that, my lord?"

Nerevar rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. "To be honest; I just don't know."

Llothis lays his crosier against his shoulder and faces the tower once again. "They should be easy to persuade once their council meets."

A smile forms on Nerevar's features and he holds his helmet under his free arm. "The mages of House Telvanni have never bothered to attend any of the councils, and each one is in a different city. This… might be a challenge."

Llothis looks over at his king. "You are the king, my lord; could you not issue a decree to have all of them meet in one place?"

"That would be a smart thing to do, but they would just ignore it. I need to go to them one-by-one and earn their votes the hard way."

Nerevar's journey takes him to Sadrith Mora, where the Mage Councilor Skeev refuses to even talk to him. Rejected, but determined, the Chimer king makes his way to Tel Aruhn, Tel Brandora, and Tel Vos respectively. Each of the councilors gives him a task to either help with their experiments, or to get him out of their hair. Each one gives their vote and signs a small piece of paper and then sends him on his way.

Tel Mora provides a bit more of a challenge in the form of their aging, barely senile mage Arthu Setil. Councilor Setil is considered ancient, even by Chimer standards, but that age has not dulled the wisdom of this man. His robes are a dark purple that reach the floor with runes in gold stitched into seemingly random positions. The subtle change in color from purple to a deep red and back gives a hint that it is enchanted to either enhance the properties of fire, or to resist against it.

A simple Dwemer-styled dagger rests under his gilded belt and a couple bolts of electricity arc along the blade. The dagger is utilitarian by Chimer and Dwemer standards and is devoid of any type of ornate gems. The blade itself is stained with the remains of alchemical ingredients. A couple dozen spores cling to his robes from the bloatspore or whatever plant or flower he was recently working on.

"What do you want, Lord Nerevar?" Arthu says without looking back at his guest. His full attention is focused on his alchemical set and the various ingredients scattered around the tables.

"I want to be named Hortator once again. The Dwemer-"

"They are rebelling again, I assume?" Most of the time, Arthu is talking like a madman and pacing around his tower, but when he's working on an experiment, his mind is once again sharp and focused. "They were always trouble, those mountain folk. Let's see; ash yams crushed and mixed with black anther roots. No, no that won't work."

"Excuse me, Master Arthu?"

"Hmm? What? When did you get here?"

Nerevar already begins to feel a headache coming on. "I need you to name me Hortator. The Dwemer-"

"Ah yes, the Dwemer. What have they done this time?"

Nerevar rubs his temples in a vain attempt to try to alleviate his pounding migraine. Dealing with mages is something he's always tried to avoid because he knows that they can give him a headache like no other. The mages of House Telvanni are some of the worst he's ever had the displeasure of talking to. They avoided the topic when he asked to be named Hortator the first time.

"The Dwemer have risen up and renewed our ancient war. I need you to name me Hortator and provide me with mages so that I can take the fight to them."

"We already named you that once and you got our mages killed. Let the Dwemer have their little rebellion. We don't care about them."

"You may not, Master Arthu, but the rest of our people do. I want to protect them, but I cannot do that without the consent of the Great Houses."

"I'm in the middle of some important experiments. Can this wait?"

A groan escapes and Nerevar looks over at Llothis. "Return to the ship. I can take care of this by myself."

Llothis bows deeply and turns to leave.

"Master Arthu, I need to be named Hortator."

Arthu places his hands on the table and sighs. "Will you leave me to my experiments if I give you my vote?"

"I will."

"Fine." Master Arthu writes down his vote on a small piece of paper and signs it, then hands it to Nerevar. "Now leave me be."

Nerevar takes the scrap of paper and bows deeply before backing out of the room and eventually the tower. He returns to Sadrith Mora with the collection of votes from the mage councilors and he sets them down on the table. Skeev glances down at the signed scraps of paper and picks up one to make sure it's authentic. A couple minutes pass before he puts it back down and faces his guest.

Skeev is a man that looks to be in his middle years with a deeper skin hue than normal Chimer and only one good eye. His exposed flesh is covered in scars and bandages. His robes are a bright green with a crimson red trim along the collar, legs, and arms and a Daedric short sword rests below his belt. Like the rest of the mages he doesn't like to be bothered, but he's willing to listen to his king for a little while.

"You have the votes of the other councilors, and now you want mine." His voice is even and flat.

Nerevar simply nods.

"Why should I give it to you? Why should I lend you some of my mages? The Dwemer may be rebelling, but that does not seem like a good enough reason for me. They are not foolish enough to attack our House's cities."

"That is why I need the troops and the title. They will not attack the cities because I will take the fight to them. I will ensure everyone's safety, even if I must give my life to do it."

"An admirable goal, my king." Skeev moves the scraps to the side and rests his hands on the table. "Are you really willing to throw your life away in an attempt to stop the Dwemer? Are you really ready to take that risk? They are superior to us in technology and manpower."

"I am aware of that Master Councilor, but I will still fight. I am familiar with Dumac's strategies and can counteract them."

"Strategy is not the only thing that makes a war. In the long run, it is ultimately about money, food, and communication. How will you protect those?"

"Do you really care? You mages never felt the need to help or protect your own people. Why would you care about our war with the Dwemer?"

Skeev raises a brow and grins. "You're right, we don't care. It doesn't matter to us who wins, so long as we're left alone. The future of this war, however, depends on whether I feel the need to name you Hortator. I can see that you have convinced the others to do so, but it ultimately rests on my shoulders to make it official. My word is the difference whether you are named Hortator of House Telvanni, or just a general with no mage support."

"Yes, Master Councilor."

"At least you show respect where it is due. I like that. I will be willing to provide you with mages and name you Hortator if you would do one thing for me. I want you to kneel and declare that my magic is the strongest of all. I want you to declare that House Telvanni is superior to all others, including your own House Indoril. Do that and I will give you the support you desire."

Nerevar hesitantly lowers himself to his knees and he presses his head against the cold floor of the floor of the raised tower of Sadrith Mora's Telvanni tower. His weapons are laid against the floor next to him and he averts his gaze. It's humiliating to him to be in this position, but he knows that he must swallow his pride and obey Mage Councilor Skeev in order to secure the title for House Telvanni. He swallows and closes his eyes before he speaks.

"I, Lord Nerevar Indoril," He starts, keeping his eyes off of the mage. "Pledge to name House Telvanni the mightiest of the Great Houses. I pledge to name Mage Councilor Skeev the greatest mage to have ever lived."

Skeev grins a wide grin and motions for him to rise. He watches as Nerevar gets to his feet and he claps. "Very good. Very good, indeed. I look forward to the ceremony."

Nerevar gets to his feet and grabs Truflame and his ebony short sword. He faces the councilor. "I cannot do it right away. The war must end before I make it official."

"Unfortunate, but unavoidable at the moment. I suppose that I will have to wait. Once I prepare what mages I can, where do I send them?"

"I would prepare the defenses of your own cities first. When the time comes that I need them, I will send a messenger."

"Very well, Hortator. I will be waiting. You may leave now."

Once Nerevar finally leaves the tower of Sadrith Mora, he's surprised to see not Llothis, but an Ashlander scout waiting for him. The scout is dressed in the bleached white chitin armor typical of the nomadic tribes. The armor is lightweight and made mostly of several layers of insect shell held together with organic resin. While not providing much protection is a straight up fight, it does provide decent protection from any arrows made of iron. Anything higher than that and unfortunately, they might as well be wearing nothing at all.

True to the Ashlander tradition, the scout has a dagger and short sword made out of chitin, as well as a bow and a quiver of arrows. Her arsenal is considered primitive by the standards of all of the other races, but they have found a way to survive with what they have access to. The scout bows and her long black hair falls into her face. She moves it out of her face.

"Lord Nerevar," She says her voice thick with the Ashlander accent. "The Dwemer have begun their attacks on small settlements north of the Red Mountain."

Nerevar nods. "Thank you. Inform Sotha Sil that he should tighten the defenses of the cities under his command. Tell him that he should engage the Dwemer only if it's unavoidable. He is to secure our lines of communication and our supply routes. Almalexia is to probe the defenses of Arkngthunch-Sturdumz. She must only take it if there is an advantage to it."

The scout bows again. "What of Lords Vivec and Voryn Dagoth?"

"Vivec must stay behind to protect Mournhold until I need him. Dagoth will go to the smaller towns and recruit whoever he can. He must not engage the Dwemer under any circumstances. Is all of that clear?"

"Yes my lord."

"Then go. I still have a couple more things to do before I join the war proper."

The scout bows one last time and mounts her horse before taking off into the heart of Resadyn.