When Lusius was but a boy, he enjoyed spending his time tucked indoors in the nook of his room, making little paper towns for his own private world. Children with more money than him could buy little kits of homes from stores in the Imperial City. But Lusius's family had no money for frivolity, and he made do assembling with scraps he foraged from around his village. He folded old adverts into priory steeples and half-read newspapers into storehouses. He used his mother's old kitchen knife to cut out little people, mothers and fathers and guardsmen. Their limbs were of inconsistent length and, and their faces a chaotic jumble of words and half-torn illustrations. And yet, he loved them. It was his little land to control; his little society to helm.

In the present, Lusius walked off ship's gangplank, and was suddenly struck by how firm the wood was below his feet after weeks at sea. But it wasn't just his sealegs playing a trick on his senses. Something seemed still about the town before him. That seaside village at Ald Redaynia felt like an echo of the paper towns of his youth. He could not shake the sensation that it was an assembly of hollow buildings, put together by an amateur hand.

Perhaps it would feel more vibrant if there was any hum of activity. Lusius did not expect to see many people out and about before daybreak, but from his vantage point the streets were utterly empty, and unlike the tower looming from the hill ahead, there was nary a light to be found in the dozens of sealed shut windows scattered among the town. A fishing boat floated close to shore, bobbing up and down in the tide, apparently unattended. Lusius would've almost figured the settlement abandoned, but while the town was silent, it was not overgrown or ill maintained.

It wouldn't really be the Empire's problem, though. The legionnaire encampment was to be founded to east, along the shore, and it would have enough space from the town that there wouldn't be too much overlap even had it been thriving. Lusius had prepared to help haul the material for the base from the ship to the staging ground, but as he was about to find a superior for an assignment, he instead found the eye of Imsin, who had emerged from the ship and was walking with authority to the shore. To his surprise, she acknowledged him with a nod. "With me, Lusius," she said, not stopping as she strode off the ship herself.

The request was unusual, and from such a distant commander no less, but Lusius was well enough drilled that he quickly fell in line, step in step with his superior. "How can I assist you, ma'am?"

Imsin did not look to him. "I hear you're a good judge of character," she said, "And that you know how to read people. Keep your eyes and ears open."

Lusius nodded, although inwardly he had more questions than he could show. There were knights aboard the ship. It would be more appropriate for a commissioned officer to accompany the commander on her first foray on her new assignment. And yet it was a request all the same. He would obey it to the letter.

The pair walked through the black-morning cold, past quiet homes and hovels. Past crooked fungal trees and withered grasses, under the glacial stars and the light of the moons. They walk down the path towards the tower and, perhaps, a person.

Yes, there was a person there, standing and waiting for them, at the far end of the town where the road began to slope upwards. Lusius could make something of the figure out as they approached. Clad in a scarlet robe, his frame was clearly that of a mer as opposed to a man. Yet Lusius could make out little more: he wore a bonemold mask in the style of the native Dunmer that concealed all of his face. Imsin asked Lusius to read their contact, but there was nothing at all to read.

The two soldiers slowed their pace, and the figure spoke. "Dreamer. You have come to us, at last." His voice resonated unexpectedly, dancing from the hidden acoustics within his mask.

Imsin glared at him imperiously, her cloudy grey eyes locking on his dead-bone visage. "Knight Protector Imsin the Dreamer," replied Imsin, with emphasis on her rank, "Our deployment has just arrived. The Grandmaster told me to meet with a wizard in the tower here. Would that be you?

The light from the moons dimmed under a passing cloud. "No," the man said. "You speak of the Master of the Tower. I am merely the Seneschal."

"If you're his Seneschal, then you'll take us up there," said Imsin.

Lusius glanced upwards, towards the Velothi tower up the hill. It stood high, commanding the sky. It was above everyone, and he knew that somehow, it was watching them all. But his attention was drawn back as the Seneschal replied to Imsin. "Of course. My master is occupied with a great many tasks, at the moment, but we can offer you the hospitality of Ald Redaynia. Please, come. Follow me."

He seemingly glided backwards and gestured to a dirt path lined with torches, leading up the hill and towards the tower of Ald Redaynia. Imsin looked up. She stared at the tower, with an expression that reminded Lusius of a gladiator entering an arena. She nodded, and began marching forward. Lusius followed as well, with the Seneschal following behind the pair.

It would be a small hike to arrive to the tower, the prospect of which was not welcome to Lusius. He had little sleep, and was unlikely to get any more given the task at hand. But while his body protested, rest would need to wait. There was no time to sleep. The dawn is breaking.

Spymaster,

I've known for some time that this operation has been something of a punchline among the Blades, and that rumors have circulated about it since it's outset. I have never particularly cared about those insults. I am confident that our work, when complete, will speak for itself. But the news that Councilman Severrus denigrated it as an example of organizational bloat is very worrisome to me. My reputation is expendable – our budget is most certainly not.

Thus, I've decided the reiterate much of what I've told you before, but in writing this time so that it can be preserved and presented to quash additional slander as it appears.

I do not argue, and have never once argued, that Ald Redaynia never had a tower present. The presence of a Velothi tower at Ald Redaynia is inarguable. Aicantar specifically mentions it in Before the Ages of Man. Second Era maps from the Ebonheart Pact survive with it depicted. Agent X himself saw the ruins last year, and while he is many things, he is not a liar. I fully concede that there was a tower at Ald Redaynia standing from at least the Merethic Era to the start of the Fourth.

The question I ask is: was there a village at Ald Redaynia?

It seems like a trifling matter at first brush, yes. There are all sorts of little hamlets and hovels throughout the Empire, the majority of which are utterly irrelevant. And yet, in most situations, we can prove whether or not a town was actually extant from tax records. When it comes to Ald Redaynia, there is not one shred of evidence in the entire Imperial administration – be it the Census and Exercise office, the Imperial Library's map collections, or in any of Blade's archives (and to the Penitus Oculatus officer no doubt reading this as well, if there's anything in your achieve, please get in touch).

So if there is no evidence of a village in our documents, but an explicit village in the story, what does that mean?

The most comforting answer is that Townway sketched up a village for a backdrop for the tale. But we know much of this story is based off of a real expedition, with several details that were, to put it mildly, highly classified. Perhaps, this was something that Cyrodiil missed. That's what drew me to the case in the first place. Was it a temporary base of operations for [REDACTED]? How long could it have existed, if Tonas Telvanni seemed to accept it as a risky, but otherwise usual, shipping route? Why was it not detected by either the Blades or the native Temple?

Once I started looking into the village at Ald Redaynia, the other irregularities surrounding the incident swiftly emerged – Imsin, the 'Master of the Tower', the manor fire incident, the Thalmor's enduring interest in the story. That's when I realized how important the truth behind this story is, and what the implications could be. All the pieces are here. I just need the time, and the funding, to put them together.

And one final note to end on – there's a rare difference between the versions of the story serialized in High Rock (which Townway had slightly more editorial control over) and Skyrim (which we send you in the dossiers on, as it's the version the Thalmor received). This section was appended to the first paragraph of childhood recollections of Saenus Lusius' hobbycrafts, in the High Rock serialization:

Once, Lusius tried to draw a picture on the side of a guardtower. But he could not control the ink. It bled through the walls, weakened them, consuming them from the inside out. Soon, it had become fully corrupted and collapsed it into a black pile, formless and unrecognizable.

I can see why it was cut: it winds up being an odd detail that harms the pacing of the story. And yet, of all of the other invisible edits he submitted to, Townway presumably found this specific detail important, given that he was pressuring his publishers to include it. The writing itself has little impact on me. But why he would fight to include it, what it could possibly mean... That, to my surprise, leaves me cold, when I dwell on it.

I remain your servant,

L. Cosades, 15 Heartfire, 4e 83.