"Duty is to one's own honor, and to one's family and clan. Gravity is the essential seriousness of life. Life is hard, and events must be judged, endured, and reflected upon with due care and earnestness. Piety is respect for the gods, and the virtues they represent. A light, careless life is not worth living." - The Great Houses of Morrowind

Gusts of wind came down from the hills around the town and sent up great storms of dust. The gray filled the air and choked the sky, blocking out the light of the moons and even the distant twinkling stars. Orange lanterns, powered by magelight, shook helplessly in the onslaught, projecting their meager illumination into the empty streets of Raven Rock. Nothing living loved ash, save for yams and scathecraw. The Dunmer drew their shutters against the wind, and some murmured prayers to those that were not their ancestors. The cloaked figure passing the Retching Netch didn't know the words to any such prayers, and so he walked the road in silence and darkness.

Gelebor almost savored the needling pain of the ash against his face. It felt like a cleansing, a torturous passage from one stage of his long life to the next terrifying chapter. For thousands of years he had clung to Auriel, painstakingly refreshing his memory whenever the ancient mantras and rituals began to slide away. Now he was endeavoring to forget the old tools of his faith as quickly as possible. The scar Auriel had left was beginning to scab over, though Gelebor knew that he still walked a fragile rope. At least I don't have to walk alone, any longer.

A figure cloaked in ash stepped out from the alley, blocking Gelebor's path. He gasped and reached for his mace, remembering too late that Nadene had insisted they leave their weapons behind at her house.

"So eager to cut down a city guard, n'wah?" The figure shouted over the winds.

"Oh. Ah, sorry." Gelebor relaxed a little, and cupped his hands over his eyes to block the ash. "It's awfully hard to see anything."

"What?"

"I said-"

"Never mind that." The wind died somewhat, and the ash settled with it. The guard's bonemold helmet faded into view, and Gelebor stared into a cruel black visor from which no light escaped. "There's a curfew. Councilor doesn't want any outlanders embarrassing the city during his little dinner."

"I'm on my way to First Councilor Morvayn's manor, actually."

"Are you, now," the guard drawled. "Pale elf like you, going to a House Redoran celebration? They don't much care for outlanders. Neither do I. Don't make me tell you to get lost again."

"There's no need for any of that. I was invited." Gelebor grinned slyly. For whatever reason, he felt braver than usual. "You can ask the Nerevarine. She's waiting for me, at the manor."

"I've heard stories of how Altmer treat their offspring. And that was before the Thalmor, mind you. Not sure how a lippy fetcher like you survived their purges."

"I'm not an Altmer. I'm a Snow Elf."

"You're not even drunk, are you? Just mad." The guard cocked his head, and reached for the black club at his side. "Well, fine. You be the Snow Elf, and I'll be the dwarf."

"Problem here, soldier?" A tall bare-headed Dunmer wearing the same armor as the guard materialized from the ash. Gelebor took a moment to recognize him.

"No, Captain Veleth. No problem." The guard straightened. "Just reminding this outlander of the Councilor's curfew."

Veleth squinted at Gelebor. "Hold on a blighted moment. I never forget a face. You're that sorry wretch I carried out of that warehouse, where Slitter and Mogrul met their end. Nerevarine was with you, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right." Gelebor smiled nervously. "I'm going to meet her now, as a matter of fact."

"She's returned to Raven Rock? Well, I'll not soon forget the day I met the savior of Morrowind. And any friend of hers is a friend of mine. Let's get you on your way, now. First Councilor's manor, I'd wager? For the dinner?"

"Yes. Thank you." Gelebor followed Veleth down the road, and the other guard disappeared in the receding dust.

The cobblestones curved east, towards the coast and the sound of waves against the gray shore. Gelebor could taste the salt on the air. Lanterns were few and far between on the road, now, but Veleth seemed to know the path well. They'd already passed the way to the main docks. Gelebor recalled their unfortunate experience in trying to book passage to Vvardenfell, and shook his head. Can't let my anger get away from me like that again. Otherwise, I won't be able to enjoy this new life for too much longer.

"Hope you don't mind the trek," Veleth said, not turning his head. "Fortunate for me and the other guards, the First Councilor only stays up in his manor when we get visitors from the mainland. Elsewise it would a right pain in the arse to stretch our patrols out here."

"Oh?" Gelebor didn't much care to talk, his mind on Nadene and other pressing matters, but Veleth had pulled him out of a tough situation. "Any particular reason for that?"

"Councilor Morvayn's a humble mer." Veleth grinned, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Says he prefers to live among his people, in their original residence in the heart of the city. You ask me, he doesn't like walking twenty leagues to buy a loaf of bread. But the Councilor wouldn't even have built the damned manor, if a few Blacklight nobles hadn't raised a stink about being made to stay in his son's old bedroom. Side effect of our successes, I suppose."

"Successes. Yes." Gelebor had certainly heard of Raven Rock's rise to riches, in the years since the Dragonborn returned the ebony mines to working order. He just had trouble believing the town could have been much worse before. "Oh! The Nerevarine wanted me to tell you something, if I were to see you before her."

"Aye?"

"In the course of our travels, we incapacitated a group of bandits based along the shore east of Tel Mithryn. You may want to go retrieve them before they find a way to escape. Or starve to death."

"Boethiah take me! I've had scouts watching those reavers since Rain's Hand. They were beginning to worry me. You and the Nerevarine took down that lot all by yourselves?"

"More or less."

"Wondrous. I'll make sure they're attended to, don't you worry."

They reached the top of the hill. Ash slipped beneath Gelebor's feet, and he hastily regained his balance. The Inner Sea filled the horizon and stretched beyond the clouds of ash plaguing Solstheim. Distant waves gleamed in the moonlight, rising and falling like a father's beckoning hand. Councilor Morvayn's manor was just before the beach. Gelebor had never seen anything like it in his life.

"Is that...a crab?"

"Aye. Well, a replica. And smaller than the real Emperor Crab's were, 'course. Not enough chitin left in Morrowind to build a monster like the Redoran lived under in old Ald'ruhn."

"I..." Gelebor looked from Veleth to the manor, and back again. "I don't understand."

"Thought you'd be used to that, by now, considering your chosen company." Veleth smiled and clapped Gelebor on the shoulder. "Be sure to tell the Nerevarine hello from me."

"Um...yes. Sure."

"Good mer."

"You're not attending the dinner?"

"Me? Ha." Veleth waved a hand at the strange structure below them. "Not enough sujamma on the island to convince me to spend my evening with those mainland s'wits. At least in the Netch, I can get drunk with people I like. And I don't have to worry about saying some damn foolish thing, or stepping on the wrong toes."

"Oh." Gelebor nervously fingered the collar of his cloak. "Farewell, then. Thanks for your assistance."

"Any time, outlander."

He watched Captain Veleth trudge down the slope back towards the dim lights of the city. In a minute, his silhouette had been swallowed completely by the ash and the darkness. The wind picked up, fierce and hot like the breath of a dragon. Gelebor shivered and turned his back to Raven Rock. Up on the hill, he almost felt on an island of his own. The manor was waiting. He felt the pull compelling him to move forward, the desire to return to Nadene's side and hear her voice again. But beneath that comforting thought was the fear, loose and rolling in his stomach.

Gelebor wondered if Nadene felt it too. The almost unbearable desire, the hunger to touch and to feel and to love, and the rest of his mind watching with equal measure terror and certainty. A disappointed guardian, watching a child trip over the same root over and over again. When will I grow tired of the pain? I'll just lose her, like I lost my mother and father. Like I lost Vyrthur. Like I lost the Chantry. If only that cruel certainty had been enough to still his heart, Gelebor was sure he could have slipped beneath the cool waters of Solstheim and finally been done with all this nonsense. But he remembered too well the feel of Nadene against him, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to see her again. He made his way carefully down the hill.

First Councilor Morvayn's manor seemed nearly as large as the entirety of Tel Mithryn. The stout beige structure stretched from one end of the beach to the other. No guards or gatekeepers came out to greet him, but a lantern near the base of the building lit up a large door. Gelebor passed beneath the manor's thin moonshadow, and loosened his cloak slightly. He entered the manor after only a moment's hesitation.

"You lost, dear?" A tall, thin Dunmer asked. She leaned against the far wall. The foyer was sparsely decorated, and remarkably dark.

"No. I'm here for the dinner." Somewhere nearby, there was music playing. Gelebor shut the door behind him.

"I didn't ask why you came here." She moved towards him slowly, her hips swaying. "I asked if you were lost."

"Um. This is First Councilor Morvayn's manor, is it not?"

"Certainly is." The Dunmer stood before him, nearly his height. She wore a dark robe of burgundy, and golden bracelets on her wrists. "My poor lost little scrib. All wide-eyed and jumpy. Why don't you come to my room, sweetie?"

"I'm meeting someone here." Gelebor inched away from her. "The Nerevarine."

"Nerevarine? Oh, you sweet silly mer." She ghosted a hand over his face, and he caught scent of her perfume. Rich and cloying, like crushed nightshade. "That wench hasn't spoken to anyone but the betmer she brought with her. Keep me company instead, handsome. Let's slip away from this ridiculous gathering and go make our own fun."

"I really should be going." His back was to the wall. Gelebor swallowed, trying to avoid the Dunmer's hungry eyes. "She'll probably be worrying about me."

As if summoned by the thought, the door to the main hall opened and Nadene stepped through. The Dunmer didn't turn to look, but leaned in closer to Gelebor, blocking his view. He heard Nadene's quick footsteps, like frantic drumbeats.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?"

"Nothing that concerns you." The Dunmer waved her away. "Kindly fuck off, now. There are plenty of mer to go around. This one's mine."

"He doesn't belong to anyone." Nadene stepped closer, her fists clenched. "And he's my guest. So make like Vivec and disappear, or you'll be returning to Blacklight in a gilded urn."

"You filthy gutter worm," the Dunmer sneered. She moved away from Gelebor. "The others might not see it. Morvayn, Arano, and their ilk. But I know the truth. You don't belong here, and you never will. No matter how many cults you destroy. Who was your mother? A seamstress for a minor House? A guard in some backwater city?"

"Save it for your priest, f'lah." Nadene pushed past the mer and grabbed Gelebor's arm. "I stopped caring what Dunmer like you think a long time ago. Leave, now."

The Dunmer cast one last bitter glance at Gelebor before departing the foyer. As the door swung shut, Gelebor heard flashes of a mournful song. His eyes fell to Nadene, looking up at him, her brow creased with worry. No. That's not quite right. He gripped her shoulders, felt the firm muscles tense and relax, and kissed her softly.

"What was that for?" Nadene asked, a minute later. She smiled at him and licked her lips.

"I don't know." Gelebor's hands didn't leave her shoulders. She has enough to worry about, without hearing my troubles. "Just wanted to kiss you, was all. Shall we get to this dinner, at last?"

"Sure," She replied, studying his face. "I have to warn you: it's one of those traditional three-tier affairs. I'd forgotten some of the Redoran went in for that sort of thing. The last one of these I was at, Queen Barenziah was in attendance."

"I'm not sure what we're walking into." They walked towards the main hall. "Three tiers, you say?"

"Uh huh. Used to be for Almsivi. There were a lot of rituals and traditions associated with doing things in threes, back then. Some of them have stuck around for the new Tribunal."

"Anything I should know about specifically?"

"Just do what everyone else does. What the three tiers are mostly depends on who's in charge of the dinner. I think I saw the Archmaster standing around, so it'll probably be the Redoran words. Duty, gravity, piety, blah blah blah."

"Very well." They stood at the doorway. Gelebor swallowed and paused at the precipice. "I'm a bit nervous, Nadene. All these House Redoran elites...I know they take honor very seriously."

"That's fine, because I don't take any of these elites seriously at all." Nadene rubbed his shoulder. "An honorable Dunmer is like a "Good Daedra" in their blighted system of worship. You have more honor in your pinky finger than all the fetchers under this crab shell put together."

"I just don't want to embarrass you in front of your House."

"No. Listen to me." Nadene turned and stood on her tip toes, grabbing Gelebor's chin. She stared him in the eyes. "They're not my House. I want to spend time with you, not these uptight sycophants. That's why we came here. To have one last happy moment before Vvardenfell. After we save Habi, I'm leaving Morrowind. You're going to take me to someplace cold, remember? I'm hoping to never see another Redoran Guard again. Okay?"

"Okay." Gelebor smiled weakly. "Thank you for saying so. I'll try to relax more."

"Terrific." She stroked his cheek and turned away. The warmth of her touch lingered like a pleasant burn. "Oh, and I hope it goes without saying: please don't say my name in front of anyone. I don't want any of these mer tracking me down for help with their petty problems. And, uh, don't mention I killed the previous Tribunal."

"There go all my conversation topics," He said. Nadene grinned and pushed open the door. Gelebor steeled his heart and followed her into the darkness.