And so the exploits of Indoril Nerevar Mora, Hortator of the Great Houses and leader of the Resdayn reclamation, were known across the wide swathe of Chimer territory. From the Grazelands to the Bitter Coast, his forces were swiftly retaking the land of their birthright.

Today, they were truly blessed. For from the Mourning Hold, a Queen was granting…

"Voryn is going to have conniption if you call her that."

Vivec turned around with a long sigh, shooting a flat look at the mer behind him. "And what am I supposed to say? The Grandmaster of House Indoril?"

"Well, that is her title, so…yes."

"There's no poetry in any of you House mer," Vivec lamented, tossing his head back. "I despair of any of you taking over my role if I should ever fall; the triumph of the Chimer will be relegated to field notes."

He returned to his work, sighing as he re-read the last few pages. The one thing no one ever mentioned in epics was just how long revolutions took. You hear about the grand battles, of course–soaring triumphs and bitter losses and strategies that would make Boethiah proud. But there was also so much time in-between, of just…waiting. Of course, it couldn't all be burning down Hofstaag in the three years that had followed their declaration of war, but still…a bit more drama wouldn't hurt.

That said, it wasn't as though nothing had happened in the past three years. Nerevar's work in bringing the mer of Hofstaag to Ald'ruhn had gotten the attention of the Great Houses, and he'd succeeded in joining all six together under the banner of Resdayn as Hortator. The Dwemer were staunch allies now, fully working alongside them now that they'd proven their aptitude and fire; Dumac was essentially a full member of their party–making two mer in their numbers who knew how to make sense of metal nonsense.

Sil had remained with them, shedding his last vestiges of childhood by working to free Resdayn. He'd grown a bit in maturity and quite a lot in stature–the running joke among the council was that you could tell how many days had passed based on how many inches Seht had grown. He wasn't quite of age, not yet, but he still stood taller than Nerevar and was quickly catching up to Voryn, which meant he towered over Vivec–from the latter, he patiently endured laments over how cruel fate was, to render a little brother so very tall. But more impressively, Sil's placidity had only grown deeper with time, and aside from his work with his metal creatures, he was already proving himself invaluable when it came to offering his counsel. Neht called it wisdom, Seht called it logic, and Vehk called it boring…but, tragically, often efficient.

As for himself, Vivec had thrived since gaining the title of (junior) counselor. The vindication hadn't worn off in all three years since he'd been appointed the title, and if he was smug when his ideas worked, well…he was only a mer, after all. But he'd grown, too, if not as obviously as Sil; a title came with responsibility, and a title in times like these came heavy with the expectations–and, more often than not, the well-being–of the mer who couldn't fight for themselves. His passion still remained, but it was tempered: a guiding light, now, rather than a blaze of fury and joy.

And yet, despite their changes, some things were hardly different than they were when Sil had first been brought to Vivec's side. Their quarters were more impressive than a merchant's caravan–several cities had been claimed for the Chimer, and their current headquarters was in a very impressive (and very safe) outpost out near the Stoneforest. But they still had to travel under pretense, had to play things safe when in Nordic territory. And, in less dangerous times, Sil would still come and sit with Vehk as he wrote, often tinkering with some clockwork mechanism and offering his (unhelpful) commentary when Vivec read his work aloud.

Vivec returned to said work, spreading the pages in front of him and sighing. Perhaps it was less than respectful. The Grandmaster had been one of their staunchest allies, even when she hadn't been able to offer more than bending her father's ear. She'd promised to join them the year before, but that plan had been waylaid by the death of her father, leaving her the head of House Indoril when she was just barely more than a child. A romantic image, a Girl-Queen taking charge in the midst of a revolution and revitalizing the efforts of her House from a distance, but pretty words didn't mean much if they offended the party you were trying to woo–Vivec had learned this himself many times, in less political situations.

"Do you think she'll be like Voryn?" Sil asked.

"Why on Nirn would she be anything like Voryn?"

Sil looked up from his work, magnifying lenses still on–one silvery eye was double its usual size, while the other was focused over and over through a series of increasingly small attachments, leaving just a dark pupil massive and visible. "She's a Grandmaster. He's a High Councilor, but I'd assumed they'd all be like him." He shrugged. "But I'll be the first to admit my data is limited."

"You're a House mer, Sil."

"A small house, and I only ever saw our Grandmaster in passing."

Vivec looked over Sil for a moment, thinking. "Would…you be Grandmaster now? Of House Sotha?"

Sil shrugged again, the action more guarded this time, and he took off his lenses. "I suppose, by default–though I might be too young. But that hardly matters when it's just me." He let out a breath as he sat back. "Voryn's offered to bring me into House Dagoth–a full member of the house, without the usual…requirements that switching would need."

Vivec's eyebrows rose. "Voryn? Being charitable? Are you sure you heard him right, Seht?"

Sil gave a long sigh. "Considering how many times he's offered, yes."

"Will you take him up on it?" Sil shook his head, and Vivec followed with, "Why not? It's a respectable house, and for all the riffing I do on Voryn, there are worse mer to serve as a sponsor."

Sil didn't answer. Replies, Vivec had learned, were an option for him, not a requirement. It'd been frustrating three years ago, but since then, Vivec had learned to read him. Some questions were too painful, others too irrelevant, and–when Seht did have a response–the answers were always worth the wait. So, as the silence drew on, Vehk returned to his work, expecting Sil to do the same.

"If I do, House Sotha is truly gone."

The words were very quiet, but Vivec caught them. He stayed still a moment, letting the weight of them settle before he turned to look back at Seht. His eyes were fixed on the gears on his lap, expression placid. But the way his shoulders drew up slightly was a reminder that he was still very, terribly young.

"Then don't," Vivec said, with a casual shrug to hide the difficult balancing act of lightening the room and giving serious brotherly guidance. "Keep your House alive. One day, there may be more who join, by choice or by your own blood. I personally can't imagine a better son of House Sotha serving as its legacy." He turned back to his work. "Besides, your name has such nice consonance to it. Sotha Sil. When I write of your great works as the Clockwork Lord of Resdayn, I can't go calling you Dagoth Sil Sotha. The cadence is horrific."

Vehk didn't glance back, but he knew Seht well enough to practically feel the eyeroll he was receiving, along with the puff of breath that passed as a laugh. He continued to write as Sil's fiddling resumed, the quiet clink of metal serving as familiar background noise for a time, but his pen stopped as he realized the room had gone silent.

"If…you wanted to join, Vivec, I wouldn't make you undertake the tasks that normally go into joining a house. Especially since a Grandmaster will be visiting soon." Sil's voice was very quiet, with an unusual air of hesitancy in it. As Vehk turned, he caught another shrug. "We could be brothers in a slightly more official sense, even if it's not blood."

A swell of emotion rose in Vehk's chest at that, and he was very close to babbling out that yes, he was so honored, he would do everything in his power to ensure the name of House Sotha lived forever through their works. Three years ago, he might have done it. But he was older now, and wiser, and very aware of the type of mer he was.

He got up from his seat, going down to sit on his heels across from Seht. He leaned forward, setting his hands on either side of the younger mer's thin face. "I have never been so honored," he whispered. "And if I were to wear the colors of any house, House Sotha would be the ones I chose. But I can't." Sil didn't ask why–he seemed to accept this answer, actually–but Vehk still felt it necessary to explain himself. "You and I, everyone who stands with Nerevar, we each have roles to play. If you and Voryn are the Houses, if Alandro is the divinely gifted, if Nerevar is the outlander, then it falls to me to be the houseless mer, the netchimen in the silt and the nomads in the ashlands. If I align myself with any house, become…Sotha Vivec, or Indoril Vivec, or Dagoth Vivec, then we lose a crucial piece of the Chimer population." He grimaced. "Does that make sense, Seht?"

"Yes, but you used too many words to say it." Sil's lips were ever so slightly turned up. "Which makes you a terrible fit for House Sotha, truthfully, so I must rescind my offer. I'm so sorry, Vehk."

Vivec blinked, and his face split into a grin as he stood up, giving Sil's head a good-natured push.

"I'm heartbroken, Grandmaster Sil. I hope you know I'll be stewing in my grief through the entirety of Grandmaster Almalexia's visit."

The young qu…Grandmaster had agreed to meet them at Ald'ruhn; it was fitting, given how that was where the formal, non-city-burning declaration of war had been issued. She'd be coming with reinforcements–the Mourning Hold was off on the mainland of Tamriel, a veritable metropolis compared to the migratory, rural nature of Vvardenfell, which meant access to a navy, trained foot soldiers, and other much needed support for a war. While she'd sent plenty of those once she received her title, this was the first time she would risk accompanying them to meet the Hortator, along with Alandro, Voryn, Vivec, and Sil.

Sil hadn't been the only one to wonder over her, and as Nerevar and his council waited for her arrival, the discussion naturally turned to each of their expectations.

"She's hardly going to be older than Sil," Nerevar said quietly to Alandro, looking concerned.

"And Sil manages just fine. She's not going to be a child, Neht," Alandro assured.

"And she's likely going to be insufferable," Voryn added under his breath.

That piqued Vivec's interest. "Why would you think that?"

Voryn sighed, flicking a strand of dark hair over his shoulder as he crossed his arms. "I'll admit that I never personally met the former Grandmaster of House Indoril, but as a house–you don't count, Nerevar, you joined–they're…" He made a face. "Self-righteous. They think their 'piety' renders them untouchable." He huffed. "No doubt she'll put your Azura worship to shame," he added to Nerevar.

"Is that really such a problem?" Vehk asked. "I think we could use all the good graces we can get from the Three."

Voryn's sour face didn't lighten. "Overall? No, hence why I'm here. But in the past, House Dagoth and House Indoril have not…seen eye to eye. I'll be polite, but I hope you don't expect the Grandmaster and I to be chummy."

Alandro sighed. "Oblivion, you House mer make things difficult," he said dryly, star-bright eyes rolling. "You're acting like she's the newest member of the council." He waved a hand, crisp and dismissive. "Here's what will probably happen: she's the type that's grown up on adventure stories. So of course she ate up all the romantic drivel Vehk sent out…"

"It's not drivel!"

"...and fancied herself some sort of noble hero–I mean, we all saw the letters she's sent over the years. But once she gets out here, once she sees that it's all real and messy and not at all like what Vivec's written, she'll realize that she's too soft for this sort of thing and make her way out. We just have to keep her alive until she reaches that point."

Nerevar shifted in place, frowning. He didn't look a bit convinced. "I don't think she'll be too soft," he said quietly. "There's always been fire in her letters." He smiled a bit. "I've always admired it, really. She's no Vehk, but I've always had the sense she's put her heart into her words."

"Well, then maybe Vehk can stay behind and write some poetry with her," Alandro drawled. "I'd be glad to keep her out of our hair altogether; the Nords have been quiet for far too long, and I'd rather focus on what their next move is than worry about babysitting."

"Hortator!" The group's attention was diverted from their talk as a young mer came rushing over, breathless and excited. As Nerevar approached, she pointed behind her. "Grandmaster Almalexia's just outside the city! She's brought reinforcements!"

Nerevar's eyebrows rose, and he smiled. "Well, maybe you don't need to worry about those Nords after all, Alandro." He looked back to the scout. "Lead the way, then, sera. Let's go greet our visitor."

The five made their way out of the city gates, Nerevar naturally taking the lead. They'd hardly taken three steps out from the gates when they came to a stop, surprise falling over them. Hundreds of mer, outfitted for war, stood at attention outside, as if they were awaiting orders. They'd expected reinforcements; they had not expected an entire army.

A couple stepped forward from the battalion standing at the ready–a fully armored mer, with a grotesque, snake-like helm looking over the group of them, and a woman in traveling clothes far too sumptuous to be anything but nobility. One of the armored mer beckoned the group forward. Nerevar and Alandro went up without hesitation; Voryn, Vivec, and Sil lagged back for a moment.

"So, there's our generous patron," Vivec murmured. "I was expecting more pageantry."

"House Indoril is tragically cut and dry," Voryn muttered. "But, at least, this grandmaster follows through on her promises. I'll give her that much; there's enough mer here to take Grahavil." He sighed. "We'd best go up and offer our own support. Sil, stand up straight."

The young mer had been silent all the while, giving no indication as to what he thought of their visitor. No doubt he had been "gathering data," to use a phrase of his–or, equally likely, he wanted the fuss to be over to return to his work. But he did straighten his back, only to compensate for his full height by bending his knees. Vivec gave him a smile.

"It might be nice, having someone around your age here," he said quietly as they walked forward. "Maybe you'll find a friend in our visiting queen." He raised his eyebrows as Sil didn't so much as give him a withering glance in reply, instead frowning slightly as he looked over the group ahead. "You've been quiet, even for you. Something on your mind, Seht?"

Sil glanced down at him, then gave a quick little sigh. "I've been trying to figure out why I'm even here," he whispered back. "Neht only brings me along for talks with the Dwemer." His frown deepened. "When he told me to come this morning, I initially thought he'd have me explain the animunculi, but he said to leave everything at the fort."

Vivec furrowed his brow, then shrugged. "Well, perhaps he had the same thought as me. You both have endured quite a lot at a young age. Maybe she'll trust you more. Or he wants to brag about Resdayn's mechanical prodigy, and he knew you'd scowl and hide if he said as much." Vehk smiled as said scowl spread across Sil's face. "Ah ah, we have company. Put on your best House mer face."

They joined the others as Nerevar was in the middle of introductions. "...and my shield-companion, Alandro Sul…"

"The Immortal Son of Azura, yes," the woman said brightly, nodding. Her hair, a burnished gold, had been tied back, but her curls still bounced from the enthusiasm of her movement. "Is it true you felled an entire company of Nords by yourself?"

Alandro sighed. "It's an exaggeration, courtesy of our local propaganda crafter." He gave a look over to Vivec, but smiled as he looked back to their visitors. But I can tell you the strategy that led to us beating an army twice our size."

"I'd certainly like to hear that," the armored mer beside her said–her voice wasn't quite as enthusiastic, but her interest was clearly genuine. "I've tried to figure out how you managed that for months now."

"Ah, but introductions first," the first woman said, giving the armored mer a knowing look. She smiled as she caught sight of Vivec and Sil. "So one of you must be the mer who's written such incredible accounts."

Nerevar laughed. "That would be Vivec, our mer of many talents. His work on the battlefield is just as impressive as his work on the page."

Vehk, to his credit, only puffed up a little at the blatant praise. "Both are necessary," he said. "In our case, without the sword, there's nothing for the pen to note."

The helm of the armored mer tilted slightly as he spoke; now that they were closer, he could see deep gold eyes behind the mask. As he met her gaze, it felt as though she managed to bore right into him–there was a connection, certainly, though he wasn't sure whether he was being regarded as an ally or a threat. All the same, he sent her a smile; hopefully, that'd nudge him toward being the former.

"So then this is…" The blonde mer pointed at Seht, who merely stayed silent. He had, at least, spent the past three years mastering the art of hiding his discomfort behind a mask of quiet thoughtfulness.

"This," Nerevar said, picking up the lead the younger mer was silently refusing to as he clapped Seht's thin shoulder, "is Sotha Sil. My most trusted advisor on all things mechanical."

Sil's thoughtful mask broke, and he looked to Neht in shock. "Advisor?" he whispered.

"Of course, kena," Neht murmured back with a smile. "You're already doing all the work, you may as well have the title for it."

"Sotha Sil? As in…Ald Sotha?" Their attention was drawn back to the blonde mer as she looked over him sympathetically. "My deepest condolences on your House, serjo. I couldn't imagine."

Promptly, Seht was once again hidden away behind his placidity. "It is appreciated, Grandmaster."

The blonde mer blinked several times, and she covered her mouth. "Oh! Oh, I'm not…" She looked to the armored mer. "Oh, by the Three, Alma, I didn't introduce you."

"I was waiting to see how long it'd take." By contrast to the intensity of her look, the armored mer's voice was teasing and warm, and she finally pulled off her helm. Her copper hair was bound back tightly, and her golden eyes were no less intense now than they were behind the snaked face–this one was angular and regal, though Vivec didn't miss the subtle softness that gave away the recent nature of her adulthood. Regardless, the beauty of her face was only enhanced by her certainty and confidence.

If there ever was someone to risk calling a queen, clearly it was her.

"I am Grandmaster Indoril Almalexia," she said, chin raised as she looked back to Nerevar. "And I've come to aid in fight to free Resdayn from the Nords."

"And we appreciate your offer gre–" Neht was cut off by a flash in Almalexia's golden eyes.

"It's not an offer, Hortator. It is a statement," she said. She looked over the five of them for a moment, a subtle curve to her lips. "And since our introductions are out of the way, I'd like to talk strategy once my troops have set up camp. Hlareni, my chamberlain–" She motioned to the blonde mer. "–will send word once everyone's settled, and I would like to hear what your next move is. So we should reconvene in…oh, I'd say two hours?"

Nerevar blinked. He looked to Voryn, who scowled, then to Alandro, who shrugged. He then gave Almalexia a warm smile as he clasped a hand over his heart, kneeling his head.

"We look forward to it. And if you need anything at all, serjo, we're always ready to help one of our staunchest supporters."

"And we're more than honored by your hosting us," Hlareni added, giving a look to Almalexia–Vivec knew it all too well; it was the same silent "be friendly" he often shot Sil's way. "We've brought tokens of our appreciation of your efforts, Hortator, which we'll give when we reconvene." She dipped her head, then followed Almalexia as she turned on her heel, the Grandmaster already shouting orders at the troops behind them.

As they drew away, Voryn immediately slid up to Nerevar. "How long are we indulging this?" he hissed. "If she's like this when she's just arrived, we cannot have her stay long enough for our next strike. It'll be a disaster."

Alandro crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. "Her manner's a bit clunky, but she's young. I bet she's trying to impress us–but there's certainly plenty to work with. And her armor was more practical than I was expecting, so she has that going for her."

"That mask is practical?" Voryn asked dryly, which earned an equally dry look from Alandro.

"Are you suddenly expecting House mer to not be flamboyant, Devil of Dagoth?" He shook his head, then looked to Nerevar. "What do you think, Neht? Ultimately, you have final say."

Nerevar's expression was far-off through the small spat, and he looked as though he'd been woken from a dream as Alandro addressed him. He looked between them, then glanced over to the troops, no doubt following their Grandmaster to set up camp. A slow smile spread across his face.

"I like her spirit," he said. "I think she'll be a boon to us."

"I do, too," Vivec chimed in. "We could do with a charismatic House Mer in our numbers. And, no offense to you, Voryn, but just seeing her now is proof enough that she beats you there."

A glint in Voryn's dark eyes threatened Vivec, but before any barbs could escape his mouth, he looked over to Nerevar. The Hortator's face was bright with possibility–or, perhaps, just the joy of having new people around. Likely both. Voryn sighed and crossed his arms.

"Well. We'd best prepare for strategizing." He stepped over to Alandro, saying something quietly to him. Vivec was too far to hear, but he got the impression it was something along the lines of a venomous "Good luck."

Nerevar was none the wiser to it, clapping his hands together. "I am excited for some new perspective," he said, heading back toward their own camp. "I bet Lady Almalexia…"

"Grandmaster," Voryn corrected.

"...yes, Grandmaster Almalexia is teeming with ideas, if her past letter are anything to go by." He flashed a grin. "I'm actually excited to discuss them in person after hearing from her for so long."

"And if they're ridiculous?" Voryn asked.

"Then what an opportunity for us to teach her and make an ally for life."

Vivec smiled at the unbridled optimism, and he glanced back over his shoulder as he followed the others back to their camp. From here, he could just catch a glimpse of copper hair gleaming in the sun. Obviously, he couldn't say what sort of ally Almalexia would prove to be, but there were stories upon stories in her face alone.

And he did so love to chase stories.