*PORT OF ANVIL*
CYRODIIL

The hum of conversation came to a halt as Tiberius Mede, Emperor of Cyrodiil and the Tamrielic Empire, strode into the room. He allowed himself a thin smile as he saw all the figures come to their feet as he entered, only resuming their seats after he did so. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the names and faces:

Gaius Maro, Imperator of the Cyrodiil Legions, and Grand Chancellor of the Empire.

High Chief Baajirra of Anequina, standing next to his southern counterpart, Chieftainess S'hila Jatani of Pelletine.

Lord Zimba made a very imposing figure, the ape-like lord of Valenwood resplendent in golden armor, crafted to carefully mimic the elven style. Beside him, Kelan-Tel of Black Marsh was clad in scarlet lamellar armor from head to foot.

High Seeker Aldnaro made a bow of greeting that was slightly deeper than manners required, the leader of the Aldmeri Dominion (or what remained of it) the only one in the room not in armor.

"Still no answer from Morvayn?" he asked, and Imperator Maro shook his head.

"Nor from Silvenar Riverdale of North Valenwood, your Highness."

"Then that is an answer in and of itself," Aldnaro spoke softly, and Tiberius nodded.

"Khajiit," the Emperor continued, "Pledge yourselves to me, and I will grant you back the lands my father took from Elsweyr."

The two warlords eyed one another suspiciously as Tiberius turned towards the rest of the party.

"Lord Zimba, all the lands that you take from North Valenwood I will allow you to keep."

Zimba puffed out his massive chest, thumping a meaty fist against it in a clank of armored might.

"King Kelan?"

The Argonian ruler inclined his head in a regal nod.

"Black Marsh will stand with Cyrodiil," he replied, revealing rows of teeth in a predatory grin. "And in exchange…?"

"Humble the Dark Elves, and bring the Dunmer to the negotiating table, and everything south of Mournhold will be yours," Tiberius replied, drawing a hand across an imaginary line on the table.

"With your permission then, Emperor?" Kelan-Tel asked, "I must prepare the Children of the Hist for war."

Tiberius made a dismissive gesture with a wave of his hand, and Kelan-Tel took in a slow breath at the slight of being dismissed like a cupbearer or a chambermaid as he moved into the hall. Two golden-scaled kinsmen fell in beside him as the trio walked back to where their horses were waiting.

"My lord," one of them hissed in the lizard-folk's tongue, "he cannot possibly hope to deliver on that promise, not if he wishes the Dunmer to ever bow to his rule."

"No," Kelan-Tel agreed, shaking his head. "He cannot. Pose as he might, this Tiberius Mede is not his father. But when he reneges on his word, that could be a perfect excuse for further action."

"And what of the Witch-Queen, my king?" the other asked. "The Covenant are massing an army in Hammerfell, just south of Elinhir."

"They'd be fools not to," the ruler of Black Marsh nodded. "But I expect that is where the High Seeker comes in. The ape and the cats will keep Riverdale and his 'North Valenwood' pinned and on the defensive in the south. In the meantime, the Altmer will reinforce the Imperial garrisons of the Gold Coast, to hold back the Covenant forces while he deals with his Nordic problem.

"Too many," hissed a gold-scaled advisor, "Too many irons in the fire: the two Khajiit rulers will be at one another's throats before too long. He will have to choose which one to back at that point. He cannot keep his promises to both."

"Of course he can't," Kelan-Tel snorted disdainfully. "If he had an acorn's worth of wisdom, young Tiberius would leave the Dragonborn and the Dunmer to their snow and ash-covered lands. He'd secure Valenwood, Elsweyr, and make sure to keep the Dominion firmly under his heel, possibly even make some kind of pact with the Witch-Queen to keep her Covenant out of this. Then and only then would he move north with a united, irresistible force."

"Imperials and their pride," the first advisor shook his head. "Try to seize all the fish in the net, and you will gain none of them."

"And quite possibly lose all of them," Kelan-Tel finished the Argonian proverb. "Yes, and when that happens, it will be the Interregnum and the Age of War all over again."

"We must move to secure our own interests," the other advisor said carefully. "The Dunmer will not be in a position to attack us if we…"

"We will do as the young 'emperor' commands," Kelan-Tel cut him off, but could not keep the mockery from his pronunciation of the title. "We will move the Children of the His to invade southern Morrowind at once."

"My lord," the interrupted advisor objected. "It's a barren wasteland, worthless to us."

Kelan-Tel actually paused to cuff his young kinsman on the back of the head, causing the trinkets and ornaments on his horns to rattle sharply.

"Don't be more of a soft-shelled idiot than your nesting brood made you!" he rasped. "It is certainly a wasteland now, but in a single generation, Southern Morrowind will be the most fertile farmland in all of Tamriel, when the ashes are plowed under the soil, and the fields watered with newly-dug canals and irrigation ditches."

A look of growing realization spread across the other two Argonians' faces.

"Within a generation, the Dunmer that are now living in a barren wasteland will be singing our praises for conquering them, bringing with us manpower, organization, and resources to refarm and reclaim what was lost. In two generations, we'll be remembered and revered by every Dunmer in Tamriel as liberators and saviors of their people."

*THE COUNT'S ARMS TAVERN*
ANVIL

CYRODIIL

"So," Baajirra sighed, sipping the cup of wine in front of him. "He call you into a private conference as well?"

Chieftainess S'hila nodded in answer as she took a sip of her own wine, taking a moment to appreciate the sheer unlikeliness of the two greatest rivals in Elsweyr sitting at a table alone together; no entourage, no secretaries, not even any bodyguards.

That you can see, the suspicious part of her mind reminded her.

"Allow me to guess," Baajirra grinned, "he promised you Baajirra's head, after the war is over?"

"On a spike," she purred, blatantly taking delight again at the mental image. "How did you guess?"

"Because he made Baajirra the same offer."

Her cup paused on the way to her mouth, and her expression froze.

"Liar."

"It went something like, 'I trust you, my dear Khajiit, it's the other traitor I have reservations about,' if I recall correctly," Baajirra shrugged, giving a rather passable imitation of the Imperial's haughty tones.

Now the cup slammed back down on the table. Those had been Tiberius Mede's exact words to her. Either this no good naraj had overheard them somehow, which she severely doubted, given the Penitus Oculatus' security, or he was telling the truth. But if he was…

"Why do you tell S'hila this?" she hissed, feeling her hackles rise on the back of her neck.

"Because Baajirra believes that Tiberius Mede-born is manipulating Khajiit," her northern counterpart hissed back, pointedly giving the Cyrodiil ruler his original surname. "And Baajirra also believes that the Khajiit have relied on others for too long, pink-skin and knife-ear alike. Elsweyr must stand together, if Khajiit are to ride out the storm that comes."

"S'hila will never own you as King of Elsweyr," the southern chieftainess stated in a even voice, a statement of fact, devoid of threat.

"No more than Baajirra would follow you," the big cat rumbled back. "But Baajirra does not think that needs make Anequina and Pelletine enemies. Baajirra and S'hila must be strong together for the sake of Khajiit everywhere."

From her place in the rafters, a hooded figure made another note in the transcription of the conversation taking place just below her. Stealthily, slowly, and deliberately, the figure moved into the shadow, and then became the shadow.

Another scroll to send back north with Sapphire, Karliah thought to herself as she tucked the bit of paper inside her cloak. The Boss is going to want to know about this…

Author's Note:
Well, I'm not dead, and this story is still going on. Much slower, with boring real life closing in around me, but it will continue all the same, until we get to the ending! Just call me G.R.R. Martin. :P

Thanks everyone for your patience and your continued support of the story!
YOU ROCK!

-Tusken1602

Reviewer Responses:

Blaise Welshman, tylermech66 - I can always count you, my friends! ;)

griezz1 - "The Queen's Fleas." I like it.

badkidoh, Guest - I also love this concept, and I hope to be bringing some more ideas like this into Skyrim. There are tons of modern ideas that could be introduced to actually HELP people in their everyday lives, rather than just "Guns."

ranma hibiki - Just because someone was born in the world that YOU know as a video game does NOT mean that they are a stupid NPC. ;)

Galactic Halfling, Cristobal Alvarez, Shadow Pegasus, NotRevan - I'm hoping that they will *kinda reoccurring, as in anytime we want to see what the common Vodahmin soldier is thinking/feeling, we'll revisit this group of soldiers.

Rabastan - They are used to complete government works, like building road networks, fortifications, and other public works. They are not just available to anyone in the Covenant, no. Overall the Covenant LOVE Tala. Rest of Tamriel... not so much.

Wiwerse, Spartanzerg75 - Classic ideas. Worth thinking about.

Serpent - It is still in the Rift, and loyal to the Dragonborn for saving them from the giants.

albesp93 - I could be coy and say that they DID talk about it "off-camera" as it were, but the truth is I also forgot to bring up that particular point (which is a good and sound one). But then again, the Empire (and Skyrim) didn't make any promises to the Vodahmin, did they? They just agreed NOT to attack them (which technically, they didn't, they just ferried the Dominion back to Summerset Isle). Can't break promises if you didn't make any...

Leaf Ninja, Inuyoukai52, Bloodwolf432 - Thanks! I appreciate you taking the time to leave me your reviews!