"Tamriel's two moons are inextricably linked to the society of the khajiit, who worship their different phases, and the combination of the phases, as if they were gods." -Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition, "The Elsweyr Confederacy"

Mid Year 13, 4E2

Mess Hall, Subterranean Sanctuary

It had been a long time since we had had a proper meal, but renouncing our secrecy meant being able to buy from the Commerce District. This was a very welcome indulgence, perhaps the first relief I had felt since going rogue. Jungle fruits and the meat of boars had grown tiresome. Tonight, I welcomed cheese, potatoes, and chicken back into my diet. We had also picked a up a fresh supply of beer. Giving up our secret was liberating.

The day had consisted of little else for me but planning and putting into play what was decided on yesterday. Collects-Rocks and Reesaka had returned from their search for M'Dazzir's hideout with nothing, but being this was only the first day treading the untread land that was expected. Tomorrow we were going to assault the Elsweyri Revolutionary Faction training facility, when instruction was most likely in session.

I had kept the thoughts on the disturbing possibility of Adazzka's innocence to myself...and mostly out of the forefront of my mind.

"Any of you ever had to put down one of those house-cat Khajiit. Alfiq, I think they're called?" asked Jilheen gruffly. Killing people was not my first choice for a dinner conversation, even as it was a routine part of life here.

"Yeah," Ah-Marz replied. "One of them tried to jump on my face during that assignment Rizzani gave Sala-Keesh, Reesaka, and I near the naval depot." Killing and talk of our dead leader, even worse, was starting to sully this good meal.

"Heh, I always feel bad having to strike down those fetchers," Jilheen-Bolineena mused. "It feels like offing someone's pet." Charming way to look at a human life, I was really eager to steer conversation away from this.

I said, "I think I once saw an Alfiq in the Imperial City, he was carrying a coin sack in his mouth." I could very much understand why they would be unpopular to birth in foreign countries.

The Nibenean Argonian laughed. "I wonder how often they get mistaken for animals." At least he was acknowledging the locals were not animals. That was good.

"Yeah, must be a weird life. In Cyrodiil and here." There had always been a lot about Khajiit and how breeds affected them which I wanted to know but had been afraid to ask...especially questions of a sexual nature. Even the brotherhood I felt with S'Nirem and S'Bassa had not yet passed that threshold.

I saw Jilheen cut into his chicken again and I looked back down at my plate to do the same.

"We had to kill a Cathay-Raht at the encampment Reesaka and I assaulted today," Ah-Marz said. "Those are nasty guys. They've got the reach of a Daedroth."

Being in Elsweyr during the Oblivion Crisis, my unit had had to fight a Daedroth, and that was probably a slight inaccuracy. I swallowed and responded, " Do'Dara's is one of them. They're intimidating."

"At least they're easy to spot," Jilheen retorted. "Those Dagis and Alfiqs'll hide damn near anywhere." This was the sort of conversation you could not have with any other kind of group.

I cut another piece of meat off and put the juicy morsel in my mouth.

As I chewed, there was silence.

"I heard the King of Torval is a Pahmar," Ah-Marz remarked. "They're like...just talking tigers."

"At least they can talk," Jilheen replied. "The Alfiq can't, right?"

"Right."

Then some foreign sound came...from the entrance door.

A voice? That was eerie in these circumstances. Our thoughts were redirected completely from the silly conversation, causing adrenaline to seep into my flesh and dark wonder into my mind. It continued, sounding like muffled shouting. Clearly it was trying to get our attention.

"I can't be the only one who heard that," Ah-Marz said.

"You weren't." I replied, and being so on alert my own vocalization sounded like breaking glass. But the mysterious voice was not trying to be subtle, and that meant he was friendly, right? Or were there others in the vault, hoping we would open the entrance for them so they could invade our home and put an end to the Knights of New Elsweyr?

Whatever was in the ruin, it was my duty to take initiative. I pushed myself up and stood. Being the leader, I said, "Let's get armed, then we can see who it is."

Despite some fear, I began crisply walking out of the dining hall in the direction of the armory. My mind still buzzed around the ominous mystery. Had we been followed by a Renrij, the fault of Collects-Rocks and Reesaka? Had they been the carriers of our doom? Who else could be calling at our door? The Empire coming back for their fat sacks of state secrets?

I burst through the armory door and grabbed a scimitar, then, concealing any trepidation on my face, turned back to look into the wide, curious eyes of my soldiers lined up in a crude single-file, Ah-Marz to be the next to arm himself. I passed them, turned the corner and went to the door which hid the monster secret. Who was behind it. How many?

I took defensive position. The voice started again and my hair stood on end. It was muffled and fuzzy, straining to be heard through the stone. It seemed to belong to a Khajiit.

Ah-Marz took position next to me. He had the saber I had retrieved yesterday. Then came Jilheen. Our forces were building, but how many enemies hid on the other side?

Collects-Rocks came next, and Reesaka took position well in the back with his ready bow.

The lever was next to me.

This could be the doom of our operation...but they were bound to find the secret brick eventually if we did nothing. It was best we not let them sneak in.

It seemed only my will stood in the way. There was no reason not to pull it right now.

With a lurch of the soul, I pulled the lever. My insides went numb as the stone wall began descending loudly. But we stood with sharp swords and muscles taught, ready to do what soldiers did best.

At a quarter of its way down it revealed nothing, just the dark, dank ruins. But that was not surprising this early. My eyes remained glued. The entrance was foremost on my consciousness, and my scimitar second; I was thinking about all the flesh it might have to cut.

Three tenths down, it still revealed nothing. That seemed a tell-tale sign this was an ambush, that they had ditched our immediate line of sight and must have been flanking the entrance. Adrenaline shot into my muscles and an oily feeling was left on my skin. They must have been waiting to roll in when the door hit its bottom, or expecting us to come out to investigate.

But then, six tenths down, I saw the top of a furry little head. My spirits sank in relief. My muscles loosened and sword descended. This mystery had become one I was eager to solve.

At scarcely a foot remaining before the door hit the bottom, it was clear our visitor was a harmless looking Dagi, well groomed with shining fur and a buttoned, red vest. Further revealed was a paper he was carrying in his left hand.

I felt like laughing, it seemed humorous I had gotten so worked up. I grinned, relieved, anxiety emptying out into the infinity above.

"Hello good sirs!" the Khajiit said in excellent and jolly Cyrodilic amid the unassuming ruin and pacifying circumstances. "I am courier for my honored master K'Raska, the Mane."

For a second I was confused at how the Mane could know our location. But then I remembered our departed Captain had said K'Raska knew about this sanctuary. How glad I was to see it was one of his agents before me!

"Right," I amended kind of sheepishly, considering our threatening demeanor. I lowered the weapon all the way, and could see my book smart comrade do the same. "Sorry for the sour welcome." I had deflated immensely, a euphoric gratitude for peace taking the place of fear.

He adjusted his vest and replied good naturedly, "It's no trouble, completely understandable given your circumstances."

"Would you like to come in?" I said sort of clumsily.

"No, no thank you. I am merely here to deliver a message for my good master K'Raska." He extended his hand with the letter, written in elegant script and baring distinctive insignia (a giant faceless mane) at its top left corner.

I grabbed the parchment.

"Thanks." Though it felt a bit silly to say. I was still a bit disoriented from the dual surprises of the last couple minutes. However, in a state of such joyous easement I did not worry much about ego.

"It is merely duty," he responded musically. "But now my business here is done. Good day, sirs of Cyrodiil." And, after all that arousal, he simply turned to walk off. It felt great to know we had been in no danger, but what was handed to me was also important. I stared down at the paper. Might this have something to do with Collects-Rocks pardon (hopefully the positivity of the letter would match that of its deliverer).

Honored "Elsweyra Ja Sabiruhto",

The papers you have been dropping about my city have caught the attention of the local soldiers and been brought to mine.

Though I do not know your names, I am well aware of your origins and identity. I was told of the Empire's use of its experimental super-warrior program, your capabilities, and your place of residence. While I will not condone (or disavow) your decision to commit desertion from the Cyrodilic Imperial military, cooperation and a solid understanding of the roles of our two parties would be appropriate going forward.

I have, as per request, pardoned your Argonian compatriot, though do not necessarily approve of your choice to take the life of J'Atej (the propreiter of Adazzka's Defenses, as you may be unaware, who inherited the shop from his father, Adazzka). Regardless, we believe whether you acted on appropriate evidence is a moot point now.

To discuss all else, I invite you to my palace for a seven o'clock meeting in the negotiation chambers tomorrow. You will be escorted in by the guards at the gate, though be prepared to identify yourselves to them first.

Your cooperation is both mandatory and appreciated.

K'Raska, Mane of Elsweyr

What a powerful signature to read! To think of the people I had gotten the attention of in my life! Ludovicius Ocato, Commander Civello, and now ambitious Elsweyri Mane, K'Raska! What an honor it would be to meet him! With opportunistic joy compounding relief, I felt light and fluttery, something I had not in far too long.

"Looks like you're off the hook, Rocks!" I said cheerfully (maybe a bit too cheerfully given it was murder he was pardoned for).

"What else does it say?"

"The Mane wants to meet with us personal and discuss...you know, our terms...as his allies here in Elsweyr!" I would have a face to face talk with the Mane!

"We gotta get dressed up?" Jilheen-Bolineena asked with a facetious huff.

"I don't know," I said, amused but honest.

I turned back to the others with a bright demeanor, almost forgetting we had all been armed. "I think we should cancel any further missions until after our meeting with K'Raska, just to make sure we don't step on his toes, so you all have tomorrow off." It felt like Fridas at the Arcane University! Better, knowing who we were guests of! No operations tomorrow! All I had to do was relax and keep my mind fresh for gallant discussions with a most honorable host!

"Great." Jilheen said solidly. He almost immediately began to walk back to the armory, the others quickly following suit, perhaps not as excited as I.

I however, felt too enthralled by the letter I was holding, lost in a silent, vague thoughts, staring at the exquisite script. If we could win, if we could secure Torval and by extension Elsweyr, I would treasure this letter for the rest of my life. It was our mark of recognition from the most important power in this nation, and a symbol of our truest friend, our hero in a way, in this fearsome and dangerous province.

Looking back up, the hall was empty. It was time to mimic my comrades and put this weapon back. Swords were not what tomorrow would be about, either. For once here in Elsweyr, my mind, my personality, and words, not my killing hand, would be my greatest tools, a refreshing reintroduction of an old existence. Or, on second thought, that was an apt description of the job of writing the manifesto, but this time it would be a much more grandiose, dignifying, and enjoyable task. K'Raska, king of the land for which I today fought, wanted to see us!