Cyrodil in all its magic. The caverns were bred with magic. Its streets combed with travelers of many races. Cyrodil was indeed the capital of the world.
The sun shined darts of existence. Into the windowpanes they went, flowing like liquid gold down the necks of youths and children Below, morning had already hit the crowded streets. Soon, the vanguards of a machine began churning. A great process, one that would eventually spread outward into distant lands, where foreigners seek profits and merchandise which were intricately related to the tastes and fashions of Cyrodil.
On the other hand, youths of more richer existence saw their first daylight, too. They were woken by maids (sometimes elven). These maids were not pretty however. In fact, they were ugly, or simply plain, for the fair maidens took more lucrative professions. And as for the pretty, one kind young pair of eyes sat closely besides a bedside wine table. She glanced at the numerous liquors and wondered who could conquer such tastes. Her fingers touched each wine. One by one, they reeked of death.
"Bah!" cried a weak voice besides her.
The young maiden quickly reacted to her lover's needs. "I'm here, Deremor. I'll never leave you."
The old man with sickened lips and pale face reacted to her kind words with a smile that seems too grotesque. "I see you're here, Delia." Cough. He coughed.
The woman suddenly felt tension mount, and twisted her head so as not to reveal her face. She felt tension for she feared he might suspect that she was not his lover.
Her fear was doused however, when he turned his eyes towards his remaining bottles of old wine. "Allow me one last taste." He begged, as if she were truly who he thought.
She obeyed. It was ironic. From the Marshlands the vines grew. And it was exactly the same shadowy plunge he would enter if he drank once more. This time, his health may not save him.
Haelia watched slowly. Soon she would be the inheritor of a thousand acres of land, fourteen slaves, and an oxen named Durb, which the old man had loved.
By noon, of the same day, he expired. Death was peaceful and easy. Money was easily transferred. The plot was in the making.