Chapter 2: The Lizard
So steadfast in his duties was the guard that he did not give Zayden much time to take in his new surroundings. Once outside the Imperial Legion compound Zayden was led north down the main street of a sleepy fishing village. Apart from the legion compound and some stores, the short, squat buildings of this village were all constructed from cracking plaster and weathered, irregular pieces of wood. At this early hour few townsfolk were up and about. The few that were, as they passed by, gave brief uncaring glances at Zayden and the guard, as if this were all a regular sight.
"What town is this?" Zayden ventured to ask, the guard leading him by the shoulder.
"Seyda Neen," the guard answered firmly. Zayden vaguely remembered seeing the name in the guide he read. It was somewhere near the southern tip of the island. "Balmora is half a day's travel by strider. I'm taking you to Arrille's Tradehouse first to fit you with some basic supplies."
It took but a few minutes to get to their destination; a three story building near the outskirts of the village. Second only to the Imperial Legion compound, it was the most sturdily build thing in Seyda Neen. Zayden was briskly led into the dimly lit inside where a golden-skinned High Elf with a knot of dark red hair manned the counter.
A type of wordless exchange happened between the elf and Imperial. It seemed without any foreword, the elf knew of Zayden's status and what the guard needed to do. The guard approached the desk and lightly tossed the coin sack toward the elf. After a brief inspection the store owner gave the guard back a casual wave as if to say "Do what you must, but be quick about it."
And quick the guard was. He made a single sweep of the store's wears, snatching bits and items as he saw fit. After just after five minutes, items clutched in a large bundle in his arms, the guard returned to the front of the store. He quickly thanked the store owner then demanded Zayden to head back outside and around to the back of the building.
Once there, tucked away in a nook where less prying eyes existed, the guard tossed the mass of items and sundries to Zayden and barked yet another command. "Put it on! And hurry! The strider will be here soon." Zayden took no chances and immediately did as he was told, stripping naked and putting on everything the guard had purchased.
The guard had given his prisoner a seemingly standard ensemble: forest green short-sleeved shirt over a cream white long-sleeved shirt, similarly green hooded cloak of light wool that draped over the shoulders, tan slacks and brown, knee high boots of some type of leather. It all combined to give Zayden a well-prepared yet visually unremarkable appearance, which perhaps was the intention from the start. Along with the clothes came a leather satchel bag packed with items that, at the moment, Zayden had no time to examine.
Next came a weapon's harness: a leather bandolier that slung over the left shoulder and a belt that secured across the stomach. One the left side of Zayden's hip was a sheath that housed a two foot long short sword and on the right side was a shorter sheath that housed a one foot dagger. Across the chest were two more sheaths for a three inch and six inch knife. Only after dawning all the accoutrements did Zayden question aloud "Are all of these blades truly necessary?"
"Nonsense!" the guard spat back with a tinge of impatience. "No true adventurer would be caught in the wilds with anything less. You're being sent to a city, but I will not risk losing my position if I sent you at all underequipped. All set then?" Zayden nodded and was soon brought back out from behind the trade house and back up the road, heading north.
A half mile on the road forked and Zayden was led down the right path. It gently bended outward, eventually leading up a steep hill with a cliff face to the west. Built off the cliff edge was a dock supported on tall, unsecure beams of wood. Sitting at its end was another Dunmer male, this one wearing a wide straw hat.
The guard and the elf exchanged brief pleasantries before the former handed the latter a few coins. "Shouldn't be too long from now," the elf said after counting his money. "We have a silt strider coming from Vivec and heading to Balmora from here. Shouldn't be long now…" It wasn't another several minutes of waiting until the strider appeared from the south.
The silt strider was a giant insect creature with a body like that of a flea measuring thirty feet long. It stood upon tall, slender stilt legs twice the length of its body. With each slow step forward the pointed ends of the legs sunk into the soft coastal soil. The creature emitted a low grumble as it approached the dock and came to a stop.
The guard wasted no time pushing Zayden forward toward the beast, prompting him to climb aboard. His final parting words to Zayden were a reiteration of the threat from before: fail to meet with Caius Cosades in one week's time and he would be sought out and killed. Zayden doubted the death threat. He, as admitted from Gravius in the Census and Excise building, was tasked by the Emperor himself. No legion foot soldier with half a mind would butcher a servant of the Emperor… Unless such was the Emperor's orders as well…
Zayden took a seat atop the strider, putting as much distance between the guard and himself. The guard waited as a few more people arrived and boarded the beast. After twenty minutes had past the beast's master yelled out a "last call" and not long after, with a groan and a lurch forward, the strider was on its way.
The silt strider swayed slightly from left to right with each step of its six legs, drudging on at a pace like that of a jogging man. Zayden looked back at Seyda Neen as it took to a bend in the road, the sight disappearing behind a cliff face. Only once completely out of sight did he give a heavy sigh of relief. At least for the moment he was rid of his captors.
An odd dip in the ground caused the strider to rock hard to one side, causing Zayden to stumble and land awkwardly on one of his swords. This caused him to pause and rethink his "prisoner mentality." "No," he whispered aloud to himself, "no one arms a prisoner with weapons. And if what I think is true and they would never actually kill me, lest they incur the Emperor's wrath, then what is my purpose here? Why was I sent to this place I know not to be my home?"
Zayden thought back to what the guard said when he was putting on his weapons. No adventurer would be caught with anything less. Was that his purpose in this foreign land? To explore? But why would one need the Emperor's permission to do such a thing? Unless there was ulterior motive.
Zayden remembered the scroll document from earlier. He quickly took off his leather bag and fished it out. For a brief moment he contemplated opening it back up, seeing with his own eyes just what exactly the Emperor had preordained for him. But the scroll had been resealed with a fresh wax stamp and breaking it would probably not be appreciated by his contact, Caius. Zayden returned the document to the bag and proceeded to see what else he had been given.
While the satchel was mostly empty, there were a number of items within: a small coin pouch with the remainder of the funds, a tinder box and small bundle of wood, a length of rope, flint and steel set, whetstone, empty water skin, and a single ration of nuts and seeds. Indeed the guard was not lying when no true adventurer would be caught with less.
Zayden packed his bag back up and tossed it aside. "So they want me to live," Zayden once more mused, "that much is for sure. If a note from the Emperor wasn't enough, they supply me and arm me enough so I can survive, even if I'm on a one-way ride to another city…" And yet Zayden was no closer to knowing exactly why he was here than he was when he first woke up on in the ship's hold. Just reminding himself of this uncertainty brought back his linger agitation and his simmering anger began to swell back up. Zayden looked around him, at the other travelers atop the silt strider, as if they had the answers he was looking for. None seemed to give him so much as a glance.
Most of Zayden's fellow travelers were Dunmer and obvious natives to the land. All of them sat near the opposite end of the beast, clearly trying to keep their distance. The only other non-Dunmer was a hooded cloaked figure that sat closer to Zayden and furthest from the Dunmer. The person was seemingly engrossed in the rolling of large, flat brown leaves into a cigar with clawed, scaly fingers. Each press, fold, and tuck seemed well-practiced. After a few minutes the cigar seemed complete and the figure raised it up to smell it with a reptilian snout that stuck out from beneath the hood. An Argonian, it was.
Seemingly satisfied with its work, the Argonian lit the cigar and began to smoke. A cloud from the first few puffs wafted with a breeze and struck Zayden's nostrils. Zayden smelled the smoke as it passed by and it was like meeting an old friend. In an instant he understood what the lingering agitations from his first days in Vvardenfell stemmed from. This whole time he was suffering tobacco withdrawal and was completely unaware of it.
Zayden fumbled for a coin from his bag and cautiously slid over to the lizard person. "… Excuse me?" he said at length. The Argonian lifted his gaze with a startled breath. It was clear he was not expecting to be spoken to by anyone.
"Y-Yes?" the Argonian asked back. "What do you want?"
"I was hoping you had extra leaves to roll another cigar for myself. I can pay," he quickly added, holding out the single coin in view.
Again, the Argonian seemed nervous and confused by the turn of events. "You want to buy from me?" he asked. Zayden nodded back. "Well, I suppose I could. Just give me one moment…" All the supplies were already laid out so he put his lit cigar aside and began right away. Almost as soon as he began the tension on his face quickly melted away. "You are lucky. I bought these leaves just yesterday."
"Are you a tobacconist?" Zayden asked. "You make it look easy."
"No. An alchemist. I'm of magician rank in the Mages Guild of Black Marsh. I have a love for things that grow and their applications as ingredients."
"Seems to calm you down."
The Argonian never lift his gaze from his work, his voice now imbued with a tranquil smoothness. "In the Black Marsh, everything grows. Before all races of men and mer, there was the Hist, the ancient trees to which we worship. All that grows is to be worshiped. If it must be harvested or killed, we do so with reverence and thankfulness for what it provides. When I smoke, it is like ritual for me. Mindfulness, calm, stillness in life for a moment of time…"
The Argonian stopped and looked back up to Zayden to see the contorted confusion on his face. In an instant the lizard's nervous demeanor came rushing back. His shoulders tensed up. "I-I am sorry!" he quickly blurted out. "This must seem all very odd to you. To an Imperial, that is."
"What does me being an Imperial have to do with it?" Zayden asked.
Again the Argonian tensed up. "Well, not to make too many assumptions of your people, but…" He paused to pick his words carefully. "Imperials are the people of empires, not of nature. You would see a forest for its lumber and land, something to utilize." This Zayden could not find untrue. "My people would see the same thing as a place to live and survive within. As I said, everything grows in the Black Marsh, my homeland. Our entire lives are spent living alongside, and against, plants and growing things. One quickly learns to understand nature's mysteries or get swept up by them."
All of this seemed to Zayden like the talk of someone who has eaten too many herbs. He decided to shift the conversation. "So you are from Black Marsh, then?" Zayden asked. He knew where the continent was in reference to where they were in Vvardenfell: south of the Morrowind mainland. The entire province is, as its name implies, dense swamp and rain forest. "What brings you here, then?" he then asked.
The Argonian returned to his cigar-making as he replied. "Back home, I was well known in the province's Mages Guild for my skills in alchemy. I slowly became a medicinal healer for many leagues around. My knowledge in plants, herbs, and spices made my cooking quite famous as well. But it was not long before I learned all I could and my guild master pushed me to travel elsewhere… Here. All set."
The Argonian finished rolling the stubby cigar and handed it to Zayden. Zayden took it and gave it a long, deep sniff before handing off his one coin payment. He then rummaged for a match in his tinder box and before long the two were sharing in their mutual vice. "Thank you, said Zayden a minute after first lighting it. "You are right. I don't understand you 'mindfulness' approach. Truth be told, until a few minutes ago, I was having tobacco withdrawal and had no idea from what." Zayden forced himself to laugh his statement off but the reaction he got from the Argonian was a mixture of confusion and concern. "What, you never have withdrawal?"
The Argonian slowly shook his head. "Cannot say I have… As I mentioned: Imperial see the plant as something to possess and use. My people see it as some to cherish."
Zayden could not help himself from blurting out a scoff. "So it is all a matter of perspective then?" he mocked. "That is all it takes then?"
"Perhaps not to your people…" The Argonian shrunk slightly, unease returning to his voice.
Zayden quickly realized his error and scooted back half a step. "Sorry. I do not mean to mock, I… If you only knew what my last few days have been, you would be bitter at the world, too."
This peeked the lizard's curiosity. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's a nonsense story and you wouldn't believe me."
For the first time since meeting him, the Argonian gave a grin. "You might be surprised, Imperial, how much my people believe that yours would consider unbelievable. Besides, we have plenty of time before we reach Balmora. What else have we to do?"
Zayden sighed, realizing he walked himself into retelling the story. He took another quick puff and began from when he woke up on the boat. Because the story was not very long he put particular emphasis on his apparent state of amnesia. And as the story went on the Argonian sat still and listened attentively, a look of curiosity in his eye. When the tale was done he leaned back and contemplated it for a minute, taking more breaths of his cigar.
"A curious tale indeed," he finally said at length. "I know no one that can help with your lost past, I am sad to say… If you seek my advice…"
"I do," said Zayden. "Yours have been the first friendly face to greet me in this new land."
"I would, then, suggest you follow the orders of your brethren captors." Zayden knew he referred to the Legion. Zayden saw them as no brothers of his but kept that to himself. "Threat of death or not, it seems your only clear path forward. And that is not to mention this connection with the Emperor…"
Zayden nodded. "It was said that after meeting this informant that I would be a free man. I do not know whether to believe it."
"Nor do I," the Argonian agreed. "Yet to Balmora you must go, I should think."
"What can you tell me of Balmora, or anything more of Vvardenfell before we depart this creature?"
The Argonian agreed to help Zayden. For the next two hours the Imperial and Argonian spoke, the latter attempting to fill in the gaps of what Zayden managed to learn from the guide in the Census and Excise library. The two through their conversing shared between them another cigar and, when the Argonian remembered having drink on himself, passed between them a small skin of potent mead. As the sun began to turn golden in its descent to toward the horizon the skin was drained and Zayden, thinking back to the Argonian's story, asked him something.
"Unless I'm mistaken," said Zayden, "Morrowind still practices slavery. It is seen as a sacred right of the Dunmer people, yes?" The Argonian's gaze turned downward. "Mostly of your people and Khajiit…" He nodded slowly. "Why come to such a hostile place, then?"
He looked back up. "Because I am free," the Argonian replied. "I have protected status as a member of the Mages Guild. I also wish to prove a point, to act as an example to others of the beast races, both Argonian and Khajiit. Your Empire can not abolish these practices quick enough." Zayden glanced to the other end of the strider to the other, mostly Dunmer passengers. Half were pretending not to pay attention, the other half were looking on with disdain.
Zayden ignored the others' glares and smiled at the Argonian. "Perhaps, one day, the practice will end here, but most likely not in our lifetime. Forgive me for being a pessimist." The Argonian merely shrugged. "But I could be wrong. Stranger things have happened in Tamriel…"