Chapter 50
Meridia
"You're mad!" Dynar said shortly as he half-dragged Telepe out of the palace's throne room and into the courtyard so that they could speak privately. "You cannot simply demand an audience with Lady Meridia!"
Telepe blithely straightened his tunic as he gazed calmly at the prince. He couldn't quite decide if he looked more furious, shocked, or horrified. "Why not?" he asked simply. "Mortals summon Daedra frequently, do they not?"
"Lesser Daedra! One does not summon the princes, save to listen for their commands or to perform favors at their behest!" Dynar cried. "No one is foolish enough to summon them with the intention of conducting negotiations, as though we're their equals!"
Telepe sighed lightly, running his hand over his eyes. "Your Highness, do you wish to end this war swiftly, with no further loss of life if possible?"
"Of course I do!" Dynar snapped irritably. "But this shall not work! You cannot strike a bargain with a Daedric Prince!"
Telepe raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust in the benevolence of your own goddess?"
Dynar narrowed his eyes. "I am a devotee of Meridia, true. Unlike many of my people, however, I am not blind to her nature. She is majestic, awe-inspiring, and, yes, benevolent to those she favors… but she also has no patience for her enemies, nor for those who do not show her proper respect and devotion. Which you shall not, and cannot."
"I'm… a bit stung by that, Your Highness," Telepe said honestly. "Do you believe I wouldn't show proper tact and deference to a goddess?"
Dynar shook his head. "It's not a matter of tact, Telepe. You are not treating with a king, with whom you must simply show proper etiquette and poise in order to charm them. Meridia sees truth. She sees what lies in men's hearts, and she has no patience for deceit or false flattery."
Telepe blinked at the prince, then inclined his head. "You… may have a point," he conceded. Dynar's eyes widened with hope. "However, I am also close friends with one of her devotees. Would that not be enough to assure her that I genuinely wish to reconcile both sides in this war? To show her that I don't have ulterior motives?"
The prince's expression darkened once more and he let out an exasperated sigh, running his hand over his face. "Telepe… you are not particularly devout, are you?"
"I am not," Telepe admitted. "I do acknowledge the power of the gods, mind you, and I loosely follow the tenets of a few of them, such as Dibella and Jephre. As I've said to Perrif, however, I'm no priest."
"Then you do not understand the nature of the arena you're trying to enter," Dynar stated firmly. He stepped closer so that they were standing inches apart, his blue eyes burning with conviction. He reached out and clasped Telepe on both shoulders to reinforce his words. "This is not a matter of diplomacy, but of devotion, of faith. If you were to summon Meridia, you would be submitting yourself to her will and subjecting yourself to her whims. The gods do not strike bargains with mortals. They command, and we obey. Even the Paravant is simply following the will of the gods, as she herself has said. She is not presuming to speak with them as equals."
Telepe considered the prince for a long moment, then gently shrugged his hands off of his shoulders and looked away. "Your Highness… you've said that you understand Meridia's nature. Do you truly believe that she is benevolent?"
"To those that she favors, as I've said, yes," Dynar said slowly.
"And she favors the Ayleids, does she not?" Telepe continued. "All Ayleids?"
"She is the patroness of my race, yes," Dynar agreed, narrowing his eyes.
Telepe smiled faintly and turned back around. "If so, then why would she not want to stop this bloodshed? Why would she not want to spare her people more grief? She and Umaril are losing this war. No one can deny that fact. Yes, they have inflicted casualties upon us, yet our advance through Cyrod continues unabated. More cities fall to us each month, and we are swiftly encircling their last few strongholds. Is this not the proper time for Meridia to negotiate on behalf of her people, to spare them their lives by securing a favorable peace?"
Dynar shook his head. "Certainly… if she was a king," the prince replied coldly. "She is not. You are not speaking to a king, Telepe, but a goddess. What you are saying makes sense from a mortal perspective, but I cannot guarantee that she will see it the same way."
Telepe bit the inside of his cheek, then exhaled slowly to forestall his growing frustration. "I'm sorry. It seems we're not seeing eye-to-eye," he said. "I know that you're trying to give me fair counsel, my friend, and I appreciate it. So… what would you have me do instead? Are you saying that Meridia will never accept peace?"
"I don't know if she will or not," Dynar admitted. "If she will, however, she will approach us on her terms, not ours."
Telepe frowned. "Which means that she won't accept anything less than total victory?"
"I didn't say that," Dynar replied with a shake of his head. "Only that when she is ready to consider peace, she shall inform us."
"And until then, we're forced to continue fighting," Telepe continued, narrowing his eyes.
"If necessary, yes," Dynar stated flatly.
Telepe exhaled heavily, then folded his arms and began pacing back and forth across the soft grass, stopping just short of a patch of flowers. "Is there truly any harm in asking her, though?" Telepe suggested. "The designs of the gods are inscrutable to us mortals, yes? How, then, can we know their thoughts if we don't ask them?"
"That's not how it works," Dynar said shortly.
"Then why allow us to summon them in the first place?" Telepe retorted, turning on his heel to face the prince again. "Why speak with us at all?"
"To command us and to receive devotion. I've said this," Dynar stated impatiently. "Not to hold conversations."
Telepe glowered at Dynar for a moment, then sighed and looked down, a defeated look on his face. "Then… there's nothing we can do?" he murmured. "We can only continue to throw ourselves on our enemies' blades, until the gods tell us to stop?"
"If we must." Regret and pity flickered across Dynar's face, and he walked over to once again clasp Telepe on the shoulder. "Your intentions are noble, Telepe," he murmured. "However, I cannot in good conscience recommend that you attempt to negotiate with Meridia. I wish that I could say differently, but if you request an audience with her, I fear you shall at best be ignored, and at worst incur her wrath. And you do not wish to make an enemy of Meridia. It's a simple fact that mortals cannot strike bargains with immortals." The elven prince grimaced as Telepe looked away. "My apologies."
"No… there is no need to apologize," Telepe sighed, straightening up and nodding. "Though it is not what I wished to hear, I thank you for your counsel. I trust you, and I know you would not intentionally lead me astray. And… I shall heed your advice, much as it pains me."
Dynar smiled slightly and nodded, squeezing Telepe's shoulder. "I'm pleased. You're wise, Telepe. Most would simply dismiss advice that runs counter to their wishes." He glanced past Telepe towards the entrance of the palace, where the guards were waiting impatiently for them to return. "Come. The king still awaits our return, and you must draft a treaty for him to approve."
Telepe nodded, and reluctantly but dutifully followed Dynar back inside. However, the idea of contacting Meridia continued to linger in the back of his mind, and over the next two days, he found himself occasionally musing about how he would negotiate with the goddess if he was given the chance.
"What does an immortal desire, anyways?" Telepe murmured to himself. He was sitting alone at a table in the palace archives, hovering his reed pen over a sheet of papyrus, upon which he had been jotting down suggestions for acceptable tariffs on timber. "They have little need for resources, and you cannot threaten their lives…."
As he trailed off, he suddenly heard screaming coming from outside. Frowning, he set down his pen and pushed himself up from his desk, resting one hand on his sword. He made his way to the window, where he pushed open the shutters and peered outside. For a moment, he wondered if the rebellion had decided to forego their attempts at diplomacy and simply attack Miscarcand instead. Or had word perhaps reached Umaril that Miscarcand was willing to sign a treaty with the rebellion? Was that so unacceptable as to precipitate a siege?
A moment later, a great shadow swept over the city. For a moment, Telepe thought it was a cloud, but he quickly realized that it was moving far too quickly. He squinted up at the mid-morning sky, and after another moment, he caught sight of what was terrifying the residents of the city. A vast red shape was circling above the city, lowering itself slowly towards the ground. Telepe leaned out of the window to try and get a better look at the shape, and then suddenly realized that he recognized the leathery, bat-like wings, bony spikes, and brilliant red scales of the massive beast. Why was Nahfahlaar descending upon Miscarcand?
Telepe pulled himself back inside, grabbed the papyrus scroll, and rolled it up, then stuffed it into his bag before hurrying out of the library. By the time he made it to the courtyard, Nahfahlaar was landing on a small plateau several hundred feet outside of the city walls. The warriors on the walls had drawn their bows and were aiming them at the enormous beast, but he was well outside of their range.
"Hold!" Telepe yelled, lightly laughing to himself as he bounded up the staircase to join the elves on the walls. "He poses no threat to you. You can lower your weapons."
As he expected, the Ayleids glared at him and ignored him, though one asked in a sneering tone, "You expect us to believe that a dragon poses no threat?"
"He doesn't intend to fight you," Telepe replied, motioning to where Nahfahlaar was blithely preening one of his scales, paying the hostile elves no heed. "If he did, this city would already be ablaze."
"If he dared attack us, he would be dead already," another Ayleid retorted.
"Possibly. And all of us with him," Telepe replied drily. The elf glared, and Telepe added, "Besides, if my suspicions are correct, he's simply transporting someone who wishes to speak with your king."
As he expected, a few minutes later, a diminutive figure padded up to the city gates and peered up at the elves. "Greetings!" a familiar voice called up to them, causing Telepe to grin as his suspicions were confirmed. "This one seeks an audience with your king! We bring a message, and have a request!"
"Seems you're getting quite a few unexpected visitors lately, aren't you?" Telepe asked the gate captain airily, who turned to glare at him, before turning back down to the Khajiit.
"What is your message?" he shouted back.
"This one shall convey the message to your king," the Khajiit replied calmly with a flick of her tail. "If you wish to escort this one, I shall not complain, but-"
"You may relay your message to me, and I shall deliver it to him for you, beast!" the gate guard snarled, drawing his bowstring back and sighting down the shaft of his arrow. "We do not intend to allow a cursed cat in the presence of our king!"
"Then perhaps you might allow me to speak with her instead?" Telepe asked simply. The guard paused and glanced at him, half-irritated, half-curious. "I believe that I know this one, and I already have your king's ear. Would you allow me to act as an intermediary?"
The guard hesitated, then slowly lowered his bow. "Very well," he said reluctantly. Telepe resisted the urge to smile. He suspected that at that moment, the guard was torn between thanking him and shooting him.
Telepe climbed down the stairs, and as the gates to the city opened, he strode confidently towards the cat, who was still patiently perched on her haunches. As he drew near, her bright amber eyes widened with surprise.
"Telepe!" the Khajiit greeted him, stretching her front paws out in front of her in a lazy bow. "This one was not aware that you had forsaken your allegiance in favor of serving the Ayleids. Quite the unexpected turn of events, if I may say so."
Telepe chuckled and responded with a bow of his own. "Well met, Ra'karra," he replied easily, unable to keep from grinning. "No, as fate would have it, the rebellion had reason to speak with the King of Miscarcand as well. I had not expected our paths to cross again so soon, but I am glad to see you, as always." He tilted his head, then motioned to her. "You look… noble," he remarked. Now that he was closer, he could see that Ra'karra was wearing small silver bangles above her forepaws, an elaborate golden necklace inlaid with turquoise around her neck, and a small silver circlet studded with lapis on her brow.
"Yes, well, when approaching others as an emissary, it is only fitting to dress in finery, is it not?" Ra'karra purred. She pushed herself up and peered around Telepe's left side, staring at the walls beyond. "Am I to take your greeting to mean that they shall not allow me entry into the city?"
"For now, yes," Telepe confirmed. "Though you might forgive them. I doubt they're used to feline envoys appearing on dragon-back, demanding to speak with their ruler."
"Stranger events have occurred," Ra'karra retorted with a shrug. "You've witnessed some of them yourself."
"I have," Telepe agreed. "And I doubt I've seen the last of them." He glanced warily over his shoulder and noticed, to his relief, that the soldiers had lowered their bows, though they were still watching him and Ra'karra's conversation warily. "May I convey your message to the king in your stead?" he asked.
Ra'karra let out a low growl in the back of her throat, then impatiently settled back on her haunches. "Very well," she said reluctantly. "This one intended to convey this message to your rebellion as well, actually, so I suppose this is fortuitous." She tilted her head back to stare up at him. "You may inform your Paravant that I have successfully convinced no less than three thousand Khajiit tribesmen from across the southern kingdoms to take up arms on your behalf. We march now to join you."
Telepe's eyes widened with surprise, and then a delighted grin spread across his face. "That's… wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "You have my – our – eternal gratitude for your aid!"
Ra'karra chuckled lightly and shook her head. "In truth, you are as much to thank for this as I, Telepe. You were the one who convinced me that this rebellion is worth lending our aid to. I simply shared my records of my travels and gave my recommendations to the other tribesmen. Many of them were so moved by the tales of your Paravant that they elected to take up arms on your behalf immediately."
Telepe flushed and glanced away. "I had little to do with it," he murmured, quickly repressing the sense of pride he felt. "The Paravant is the leader of this rebellion. I merely aid her with diplomacy from time to time… and even that's becoming less frequent," he added in a more somber tone. Ra'karra tilted her head curiously as Telepe shook his and turned back to her. "So, your message to the king of Miscarcand is the same?"
"Yes. This one came to request permission to move our armies through his lands if we must, and to assure him that we are not hostile," Ra'karra nodded.
Telepe gazed down at her for a moment, and then his eyes drifted to the dragon perched on a rock in the distance. "Accompanied by Nahfahlaar?" he asked skeptically. "That hardly seems the best way to assure someone that your intentions are peaceful."
"Peaceful, yes, but that does not mean that this one shall allow them the luxury of refusing," Ra'karra said easily, baring her teeth in a feline grin. "It is also in your best interest to ensure that the king agrees to our request. Unless, of course, you do not wish the help of the Khajiit?"
"Of course not," Telepe chuckled, inclining his head. "Your help would be invaluable."
"Then know that we already march towards your lands. Where would you like our army to meet yours?" Ra'karra asked.
Telepe considered the question for a moment, then asked, "You're coming from the south, yes?" When Ra'karra nodded, he stated, "Silorn. The Paravant's army is already marching towards that city in the hopes that they can cow it into submission. An allied army arriving at the same time they do would certainly help convince the Ayleids of Silorn that it is their best interest to negotiate rather than fight."
"Ah, so you do understand using intimidation as well as persuasion," Ra'karra grinned. "Though, admittedly, even an army of Khajiit hardly has the same effect as a dragon."
Telepe chuckled softly as he turned back to watch Nahfahlaar, who languidly yawned and began to curl up in a patch of sunlight on a plot of soft grass. "I must confess… I'm surprised that Nahfahlaar came with you," he remarked.
"Yes, well… perhaps you're correct that it wasn't strictly diplomatic of me," Ra'karra remarked.
"No, I mean I'm surprised that he's agreed to continue aiding you at all, especially going so far as to allow you to ride him," Telepe said, turning back to the Khajiit. "Isn't that a bit degrading for a creature such as him?"
Ra'karra tilted her head thoughtfully. "I suppose. In truth, I never thought of it as such," she admitted.
"And he's not even attacked you. Nor I, come to think of it. Nor anyone," Telepe mused softly.
"And why would he?" Ra'karra asked, seeming genuinely confused by the question. "You should know from your own interactions with him that he does not attack others without cause."
"Yes, but he's an immortal, is he not?" Telepe asked.
"Dragons are said to be immortal, yes," Ra'karra agreed. "Not invincible, to be sure, but they are immortal."
"As I thought," Telepe murmured. "I know that he told us his reasons for allying with mortals, but still… isn't it surprising that an immortal would bother negotiating with us at all?"
Ra'karra stared at him in confusion. "This is not about Nahfahlaar, is it?" she asked softly.
Telepe hesitated, then quickly explained his idea about speaking with Meridia. When he finished, Ra'karra gazed at him pensively as he asked, "Do you believe that it's foolish to even consider whether I should try to negotiate with a goddess?"
"Do you believe it foolish to walk into a hostile city and demand its surrender?" Ra'karra retorted. "Do you believe it foolish to speak your mind to Pelinal, knowing that he could slay you with a flick of his wrist, especially while he's in the throes of madness? Did you believe it foolish to climb a mountain to speak with a dragon, one of the most feared creatures in Tamriel?"
"I… suppose," Telepe chuckled.
"It was. Quite foolish, in fact. And yet, every time, you emerged unscathed," Ra'karra pointed out. She then sighed lightly. "Telepe, as emissaries, we are expected to walk into hostile realms to speak with powerful rulers who often wish us dead, and who could order it as soon as they see our faces. What's more, we're expected to sway these hostile rulers, to convince them to act according to our wishes, even when they despise us."
"And you feel that Meridia should be treated no differently?" Telepe asked.
Ra'karra shook her head. "Meridia should be treated as Meridia," she replied. "Tell me, if you were told to negotiate with a foreign king whom you were at war with, would you not attempt to discover all you could about his realm, his personality, his desires?"
Telepe smiled faintly as he caught on to what Ra'karra was asking. "I see. If I chose to consider talks with her, it would be wise to speak with Meridia's priests and learn about her from them," he concluded. "That would allow me to better know her wishes and predict her responses to my proposals."
"Indeed," Ra'karra agreed, stretching lazily and yawning as her tail flicked behind her. "Of course, we mortals only know so much about the gods, but if you are truly committed to negotiating with her, you should learn all that you can. And if the priests will not aid you, there are devotees of Meridia amongst your own companions, are there not? You can likely trust them, if you cannot trust her priesthood."
"A fair point," Telepe agreed. He hesitated for a moment, then asked in a much softer tone, "But that still begs the question – should I speak with her?"
"This one cannot provide that answer," Ra'karra replied with a shrug. "Only you can make that decision. However, as emissaries our duty is to negotiate on behalf of our masters. If there is a chance to secure peace through diplomacy, is it not worth attempting?" Telepe smiled as the Khajiit echoed his own sentiment. "And I truly believe that so long as both parties can understand each other, anyone can be persuaded." She glanced over her shoulder at the distant form of Nahfahlaar, then added softly, "Even immortals. As you should know already," she added, giving him a sidelong look.
Telepe smiled warmly down at the Khajiit and inclined his head. "Thank you. You've given me a great deal to consider. And I've taken enough of your time. Please, allow me to negotiate with Miscarcand's king on your behalf. Besides, I must now speak with him as well."
"About?" Ra'karra asked with a sly smile.
Telepe grinned at her in return. "About whether I might have permission to speak with Meridia's priests."
When Telepe asked the king of Miscarcand if he could visit Miscarcand's temple to ask the priests about the teachings, personality, and worship of Meridia, the king was at first surprised, then deeply suspicious.
"You asked earlier about whether we could summon Meridia to speak with her, and now you wish to know her dogma. Surely you don't intend to convert?" the king asked cautiously.
"I cannot say for certain yet," Telepe replied evasively. "However, I am deeply curious about your patroness. I feel that if I could better understand her, I could better understand you and your people. That would allow me to speak more confidently to the Paravant on your behalf, which in turn would secure more favorable treaties for your kingdom. After all, the deities that people venerate are just as important to them as their homes and their families, are they not? If I'm lacking knowledge in one area about you and your people, it is my duty to rectify that."
The king continued to stare at him suspiciously, but finally leaned over to his advisor and whispered in the elf's ear. The younger Ayleid nodded and vanished through one of the adjacent doors to the throne room. When he returned, he was accompanied by a young Ayleid priestess, whose most notable feature was her long, braided blond hair, interwoven with beads and feathers. The king briefly introduced her as Glatheriel, then asked her if she could briefly educate him about Meridia's teachings. She gave Telepe a look of disgust, but reluctantly motioned for him to follow her.
"Lady Meridia is the Mistress of Light, Energies, and Life," she explained a few minutes later, when they were standing in front of a polished bronze statue of the Daedric Prince in the city's temple. She gazed up at the blank eyes of her winged goddess with a reverent smile, and then she began pacing slowly back and forth. "Above all else, she teaches us that there is a natural order to life, and that anything that disrupts that order is an abomination that must be removed."
"Destroyed?" Telepe asked.
"If necessary," Glatheriel replied coolly. "Above all else, she despises the undead and those that pursue the heinous practice of necromancy. Life ends with death, and to prolong it beyond its appointed end is a personal affront to her, and her vision of a well-ordered world."
"May I ask why she's so concerned with life being well-ordered?" Telepe asked gently. "Life is chaotic by its very nature, is it not?"
Glatheriel stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. "You have elven blood, but you've clearly spent far too long around humans," she sighed. "Life is not meant to be chaotic. We were once blessed spirits, content with our place in a stable, peaceful world. It was not until the Betrayer, Lorkhan, sowed the seeds of chaos in our world, turning it into the violent, savage realm that it is today. Mortals especially naturally wish to be ordered, else we would not create hierarchies and structures to enforce one's place in society. Meridia recognizes this and seeks to restore the balance that was disrupted by the Betrayer."
"And she, of course, stands at the top of this hierarchy?" Telepe asked, being very careful not to let derision slip into his tone.
"Naturally," Glatheriel agreed dismissively. "Who better to bring order to chaos? Certainly, the Aedra are supposedly beings of order as well, birthed from Anu, the very embodiment of order. Yet they remain aloof from the world, demanding worship without participating in the affairs of Nirn, and thus neglecting to restore it to its natural, ordered state. Meridia, on the other hand, has demonstrated her commitment to restoring balance. She carved her own plane of Oblivion out of the chaos of Sithis. She directly communicates with her followers and instructs them about how they might better achieve her vision of a perfect world, awash in beautiful light and harmony." Glatheriel turned and gave Telepe a pointed look. "And she actively combats those that would disrupt the utopia that she seeks to create."
"And what of those that are displeased with their place in the hierarchy?" Telepe asked.
Glatheriel shook her head. "Irrelevant," she stated bluntly. "Her hierarchy cannot be changed. Those that seek to disrupt it bring further disorder, and spread chaos and violence in their wake." She narrowed her eyes. "Can you honestly say that this realm is more stable since the slaves began their uprising against their rightful masters?"
"No," Telepe stated firmly. He was being honest – Cyrod was indeed an unstable, violent realm, and had been ever since he arrived and Perrif began her uprising in earnest. He was privately grateful, however, that the priestess had not asked if he felt life had been improved for those who had initiated the uprising, as he would have been forced to either outright lie or risk angering Glatheriel with the truth.
Fortunately, his answer seemed to satisfy Glatheriel, and for the first time, a slight smile spread across her face. "There may be hope for you yet," she murmured. "I should have expected as much from a fellow mer."
"You honor me," Telepe replied, returning her smile as he inclined his head. "So, how does one properly show devotion to Meridia?"
Glatheriel spent the next several minutes informing Telepe about the various rituals that the priests had devised to worship Meridia, including sacrificing their finest Varla stones in her name and completing a complicated ritual that they had devised for their acolytes, which involved visiting various holy sites and restoring light to them. A few, she claimed, were intentionally placed in caves and ruins that were known to have been haunted by the undead, before Meridia purified them, and the acolytes were tasked with returning with a fragment of bone from the abominations Meridia had defeated.
"Nothing brings Meridia more joy than delivering a trophy of her slain enemies to her," Glatheriel explained with a conspiratorial wink.
"Then such a token would be a fitting offering, if one wished to gain her attention?" Telepe asked.
"It would," Glatheriel nodded, favoring him with another smile. Telepe's earnest interest in her goddess' teachings seemed to have quickly warmed her attitude towards him. "Though if she does happen to turn her sight upon a mortal, they must take great care not to offend her. Our lady is gracious, but she is also easily slighted, and her retribution is swift and merciless. There is a tale about builders from the city of Abagarlas – who, admittedly, were sworn enemies of Meridia – who accidentally unearthed a statue of our lady and did not show it proper respect. In retaliation, she pulled part of their city deep beneath the earth, killing hundreds."
"Which also speaks to her power," Telepe murmured. Glatheriel nodded grimly in agreement. "You've spoken at length about what she despises. What does she favor?"
"Aside from the destruction of her enemies?" Glatheriel asked. "She does respond well to honest devotion and respect. One should also take great care to thank her for her benevolence, and she does show great favor those who do as she asks without question or complaint."
Tools, then, Telepe thought drily. "Anything else?" he asked aloud.
Glatheriel considered him silently for a long moment. "You sound as though you wish to speak with her directly," she remarked.
"If possible. I wish to ask her if we might end the war between the Ayleids and the slaves," Telepe replied quietly. "If she truly desires order, then it is in her best interest to resolve this war swiftly and peacefully."
Glatheriel continued to stare at him, then shook her head. "An idealistic goal. I cannot say for certain if it's foolish, though," she murmured. She then sighed. "In truth, she has spoken to me directly only once, and I did not dare attempt to converse with her. The only words I spoke to her were to confirm her wishes before carrying them out." She eyed Telepe cautiously. "I shall not stop you from acting as you wish, as it was our king's command that we accommodate you. However, to my knowledge, a mortal has never attempted to conduct diplomacy with our Lady. I cannot be certain how you shall fare."
"I understand, and I thank you for your insight," Telepe replied with a polite bow. "Nevertheless, I feel that I must at least make the attempt."
Glatheriel ran her hand along the back of her neck uncomfortably, then turned her gaze towards the marble statue of the Daedric Prince. "If so… very well. I shall lead you to the holy shrine of our Lady tomorrow. It's not far from here. We shall depart at night so that we can arrive at dawn. She prefers speaking with mortals between dawn and noon, when the sun is rising to its zenith and the day's light is waxing in strength. Once there, I shall teach you how you might attempt to contact Meridia."
"Truly?" Telepe asked, before smiling warmly and inclining his head again. "You have my sincere thanks."
Glatheriel gazed at him silently for a long moment, then abruptly turned around and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Telepe's smile faded, and he turned to leave. Before he stepped out of the room, however, he noticed Glatheriel watching him out of the corner of her eye before shaking her head and turning back to the statue of her goddess.
Though Telepe went to bed early that evening, he heard a knock on his door seemingly almost as soon as his head had touched the pillow. Glatheriel and a quartet of Ayleid warriors practically pulled him from his bed and waited impatiently for him to dress before leading him out into the humid night air. The twin moons shone brightly above him, with Jone in its crescent phase and Jode almost a half-moon.. Telepe also noticed that they seemed to be hovering closer together than usual, which was a sobering reminder that time was short if Tari's vision was indeed accurate. All the more reason he had to succeed in his talks with Meridia, he told himself sternly.
Stifling a yawn, he mounted Emero and was swiftly led out of the city. His escorts began guiding him east, following a small back road well off of the main highway. They lit the way by holding brilliant Varla stones above their heads, illuminating the path with lights far more brilliant than torchlight. As they traveled, they occasionally passed by Ayleid wells, which helped light the way even further as luminescent, eerie green vapors curled out of their recesses and slowly dispersed in the air. Telepe wondered if making a living as a merchant along the western roads was easier than in the east, with such clear markers available to light one's way even on the back roads.
The journey was swift, but silent. None of Telepe's escorts – even Glatheriel – showed any interest in making conversation, and he began to wonder if he might have been permitted to invite some of his companions along. Dynar would likely be furious with him when he found out that he was going to speak with Meridia despite the prince's warnings, Telepe thought grimly, but Pasare and Reili likely would have been interested in joining him. It was rather lonely, riding in the middle of the warriors, none of whom bothered to spare him so much as a glance.
As dawn began to break on the horizon, Telepe pulled a few handfuls of nuts and dates out of Emero's saddlebags and began to chew on them to settle his stomach. As he ate, the road crested, and at the top of a small hill, he could see into a shallow valley. There, in the center of the valley, was a thirty-foot high statue of Meridia. Her hands were clasped together and held outstretched towards the sky, while her wings flared behind her. She wore a sheer garment that wrapped around her waist, but left her legs bare, while her upper body was covered by a single flowing strip of cloth that didn't seem to be attached to anything, as though a breeze had fortuitously blown it across her body to hide her chest. Telepe also noticed that she was depicted with pronounced elven ears, and that her face was carefully carved to resemble a stern mother – loving and benevolent, but uncompromising and resolute.
His escorts began walking into the valley, threatening to leave him behind, and Telepe hastily spurred Emero after them. He noticed that there were a few people gathered around the base of the statue, and as they drew closer, Telepe could more clearly see the pure white robes of Meridia's acolytes. They were wandering around the base of the statue, placing glowing stones as their goddess' feet to illuminate the area, though a few paused and turned to look at them curiously as the traveling entourage approached.
One of the Ayleids lowered her hood, revealing an elderly priestess whose dark grey hair was tied in a tight braid. She gave Glatheriel, the leader of the small group, a curious look, but when her eyes fell on Telepe, her face immediately contorted with anger. She stormed towards the group and grabbed Glatheriel, and as the warriors surrounding Telepe silently motioned for him to halt, the two women began to furiously whisper to each other. Each motioned to Telepe in turn, and whenever the older mer glanced at him, he could clearly make out expressions of disgust and fury on her wizened face. Clearly, he was unwelcome, he thought drily.
"You! Boy!" the elder priestess snapped suddenly, leaning past Glatheriel and jabbing her finger at him. "Your very presence offends Meridia! Begone!"
"Apologies, my lady, but I was told by your king that I have his permission to visit this shrine," Telepe replied calmly.
"The king does not command Meridia!" the priestess snapped.
"Do you?" Telepe retorted coolly.
The mer's eyes widened with rage. "No one commands our goddess!" she practically screamed.
"Then you have no reason to deny me an audience with her. Whom she speaks with is for her to decide, is it not?" Telepe pointed out calmly.
"I have been chosen to interpret out goddess' will!" the priestess insisted.
"Ah. And have you spoken with her already about whether she wishes to parley with me?" Telepe asked sarcastically. "That's quite impressive, considering I've just arrived."
"I do not need to speak with her directly to know that she would never sully her pride by lowering herself to speak with a filthy mongrel like you!" the priestess shrieked.
"Then you would speak for your goddess?" Telepe asked, his voice turning cold. "I believe that most would consider that blasphemy, especially since the Princes can and do speak directly to mortals. I know this personally, as I've already conversed with one or two myself," he mentioned casually. "Tell me, do you believe Meridia will forgive this blasphemy, this assumption that you are worthy of speaking on her behalf?"
The priestess hesitated, her face contorted with fury. "You dare…?" she hissed.
"Is the role of priests to act as intermediaries for their gods, or to presume their wishes?" Telepe asked simply. "Since we can ask her directly, are you truly willing to stake your life upon assuming that she does not wish to speak with me? Or would you rather allow her to decide for herself?"
The priestess' mouth hung open, a mixture of shock and fury on her face, while behind her, Glatheriel snickered. Telepe suspected the two women did not care for each other. Finally, the older priestess growled and straightened up.
"Very well," she snarled. "I shall assist you in contacting Meridia. Know, however, that she shall be furious for humiliating one of her favored priestesses."
We've humiliated far more important allies to her than you, Telepe thought snidely, but he didn't voice his thoughts. Rather, he simply inclined his head graciously and replied, "Thank you. What must we do?"
"First, Meridia shall not respond to you if you do not offer a fitting sacrifice in her name," the priestess muttered sullenly.
"And what would she consider a fitting sacrifice?" Telepe asked patiently.
"Meridia counts many foul creatures among her enemies, and few things please her more than the knowledge that justice has been meted out upon them," the priestess replied. "She especially covets the remains of the undead. I also imagine she would be pleased to receive a trophy from one of her current enemies." A vicious sneer spread across her lips, and she nodded to the sword on Telepe's hip. "She would almost certainly speak with you if you were to offer that lovely blade, considering all the Ayleid blood that it's been bathed in."
Telepe glanced down at his sword, then smiled calmly and walked over to Emero. "Actually, I have a token that I suspect Meridia will appreciate even more." The priestess' smirk faded as he untied a medium-sized bundle from the back of Emero's blanket, then began pulling back the layers of linen. He revealed a shining bronze breastplate, decorated with intricate feather designs and tiny, dead Welkynd stones. When the priestess gave him a confused look, he explained, "This is a cuirass that was once in the possession of one of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor. One of the warriors who escorted me to Miscarcand was wearing it, but he gifted it to me for use as a sacrifice." As the wizened priestess stared up at him in confusion, he explained, "Yesterday, I also asked Glatheriel what a fitting offering for Meridia would be, and she also mentioned Meridia appreciates tokens from her fallen enemies. What better offering than a cuirass taken from a slave that defied her, rose again as a spirit, and was banished once more? This sates her desire for justice against both the undead and the slave rebellion, yes?"
Telepe resisted the urge to grin smugly as the priestess glanced from the armor to his face. "It shall suffice," she muttered reluctantly, turning away from him to face the statue of her goddess. "Place it at Meridia's feet. Then I shall teach you the prayers you must recite."
Telepe did as he was instructed, gently laying the cuirass at the base of the statue. He then stepped back and turned to the wizened priestess, who beckoned him over. She spent the next several minutes teaching Telepe the complicated, lengthy prayers that he needed to speak aloud to the statue. She insisted that he recite them back to her after every line, and when he got one part wrong, she forced him to begin again from the beginning. As the prayers were in an ancient dialect of Ayleidoon, Telepe initially had some difficulty, but around mid-morning, he was finally able to say the prayers three times consecutively without any mistakes.
"That will do," the priestess finally snapped. She then motioned to the statue. "Face my Lady, fall to your knees, and speak your prayers aloud to her. Focus your entire will upon her." A sneer then crossed her face, and she added, "And may she have mercy on you."
Telepe ignored her final comment as he dropped to his knees and held his hands out in front of him. As he stared up at the silent, marble face of the goddess, a foreboding chill ran up his spine, and he wondered if he should reconsider. However, he quickly dismissed that thought. As Ra'karra had said, if there was even a chance that he could persuade Meridia to end the war now to save more lives, he had to seize it. It was all he could do for the rebellion. He inhaled slowly, then closed his eyes.
"Lady Meridia, Prince of the Colored Rooms, Keeper of Light and Mother of Life, hear my plea," Telepe called up to the statue. He then recited the long poem that the priestesses had taught him, praising Meridia's virtues in a slavish tone, while begging her to manifest herself on Nirn so that he could bathe in her radiance. After a full ten minutes, he finished, "…and turn your gaze kindly upon us unworthy souls, we who would happily blind ourselves ever after, if only we could behold you for an instant."
Telepe lowered his hands and waited silently, continuing to stare up at the statute expectantly. As the seconds stretched into minutes, however, he began to worry. Had he made a mistake in his prayers, or was Meridia simply choosing to ignore him altogether? Just as he was considering rising to his feet, however, the cuirass on the marble pedestal suddenly vanished in a burst of golden light, and then a glowing, prismatic ball the size of Telepe's fist descended from the statue's outstretched hands.
The wisp slowed its descent to hover several feet off the ground, and the shimmering outline of a graceful figure began to manifest. She stood over seven feet in height, towering over Telepe. A feminine face was framed by loose, straight hair that flowed freely along her shoulders, as though blown by constant gusts of wind. Her body was covered in a loose, billowing, golden chiton that left her limbs bare, but covered her torso and pelvis. Two massive wings stretched from her back, flexing for a moment before settling into a more comfortable resting position. Her eyes, which had been closed throughout her manifesting, suddenly flew open, and Telepe winced slightly as they glowed a bright, piercing gold with the intensity of twin, miniature suns. They fell on Telepe, who swallowed and struggled not to look away.
"Mortal!" she bellowed in a stern voice that echoed painfully in his ears. "You have gone to great lengths to request an audience with me! You desire my attention? Very well. You shall have it. Speak quickly, for my time is precious, and yours is finite!"
Telepe took a slow, steadying breath, then inclined his head graciously to the specter floating before him. "Lady Meridia, I am humbled by your presence," he admitted. "I have heard many tales of your splendor, but none come close to doing you justice."
"Did you expect a star not to be radiant?" Meridia asked sardonically. "Dispense with the flattery. Why have you, my sworn enemy, dared to request my presence?"
"Your sworn enemy?" Telepe repeated, frowning as he looked up at the Daedric prince, meeting her gaze. "Forgive me, my lady, but I personally have no quarrel with you."
"Do not trifle with me boy!" Meridia snapped, her voice echoing painfully in his head. "You are a vassal of the traitorous girl who dares raise a banner against her betters! You are as much my enemy as she! The only reason that I did not slay you as soon as I realized who summoned me was my sheer, morbid curiosity as to your purpose! Explain yourself, or I shall assume that you merely wished to offer me your life as recompense for your sins against my people and I!"
Telepe grimaced and shook his head, trying futilely to stop the painful ringing in his mind. After a few moments, the dull throbbing abated enough to allow him to collect his thoughts. Taking a slow breath, he gazed up at the towering figure above him and inclined his head in a deferential bow. "I have requested to speak with you on behalf of the rebellion. I humbly wish to negotiate peace between your loyal Ayleids and the liberated slaves. Enough blood has been spilled, has it not?"
"Indeed. The arrogance of the slaves knows no bounds, and it is high time they submitted to their masters once again," Meridia agreed imperiously. "You desire peace? Very well. Tell your Paravant that she must stand down immediately. All the territory she has claimed shall be returned to its rightful Ayleid rulers. She and those that supported her – including you – are to submit themselves for judgement. They shall be tried by my people, and when found guilty, executed for daring to betray their betters. All who dared take up a blade against my loyal followers and I shall share the same fate. The remaining slaves shall then return to their labors, secure in the knowledge that any future rebellions shall be dealt with as swiftly and justly."
Telepe stared blankly at the looming specter above him. Even though her proposition was completely unreasonable, something about Meridia's tone suggested that she was utterly serious. "Those… are not terms that I believe that any on the Paravant's side would find agreeable," Telepe replied as tactfully as he could manage.
"Terms? You believe that I should offer terms to beasts that have escaped from their pens?" Meridia bellowed. "You approached me requesting peace! Peace shall be achieved once the slaves surrender, once they have been returned to their rightful place and their traitorous actions answered for! Nothing less shall suffice."
Telepe took another slow breath. He wasn't upset or angry. Rather, her stubborn refusal to accept anything less than total surrender was leaving him numb with disbelief. "Lady Meridia, if those are your conditions for peace, then the war shall continue," Telepe explained patiently. "The slaves would never accept surrender and execution-"
"They shall accept it, for it is what I have decreed," Meridia interrupted. She sounded genuinely offended by Telepe's insistence that her demands were unacceptable.
Telepe closed his eyes for a brief moment, then, as he opened them again, asked, "If I may, why should the rebels stand down when they are winning this war?"
"Their temporary gains are irrelevant. Their defeat is inevitable," Meridia replied dismissively.
Telepe's mouth fell open for a moment before he managed to collect himself. He was utterly astounded that she could insist with such confidence that the war was not going poorly for her side. However, it confirmed to Telepe that appealing to her militarily was not going to work. He needed to try another tactic.
"Lady Meridia," he began slowly, looking up at her once again. "You care deeply for your followers, do you not?"
Meridia's eyes seemed to flare for a moment, and then they narrowed. "As a mother cares for her children," she replied slowly.
"Then does it not pain you to see their lives cut short in this war?" Telepe pressed. "You are, after all, the Lady of Life. Surely you must be loath to see any loss of life."
Meridia's eyes glowed even more brightly. "You play a dangerous game, mortal," she warned.
Telepe held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I do not mean to offend you. But I wish to ask – what is the most precious thing to you in this world? Is it vengeance? Order? Or is it the worship, devotion, and love of your followers?"
Meridia hummed, flaring her wings. "If you intend to appeal to my compassion, you are mistaken if you believe that my followers' sacrifice shall sway me. I mourn their loss, true, but they give their lives happily. As they should. And they know and accept that this war shall continue for as long as necessary, until the world is returned to its rightful state, as it was before this pointless, foolish uprising."
"Yes… but what if the world was not merely restored, but in fact tipped further in your favor?" Telepe asked.
Meridia paused, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Explain," she stated curtly.
Telepe resisted the urge to grin to himself. He finally had her interest. "The longer this war continues, the more followers you shall lose," he explained. "Not only do your warriors continue die in your name, but those who turn to you for protection will lose faith as the tide continues to turn against your champion." As Meridia's eyes began to glow more brightly with anger, he quickly added, "However, if you instead pursue peace – under the terms that I would like to suggest to you – you shall not only restore the faith of your existing followers, but gain far more."
"And why should I even consider your proposition, mortal?" Meridia demanded.
"If you restore the status quo, your people shall continue to experience slave uprisings, with increasing frequency," Telepe explained. "The humans of Cyrod have tasted freedom, and they would rather die than feel collars and chains around their or their children's necks ever again."
"Then they shall have the death they so desperately crave," Meridia stated indifferently.
"You cannot slay every human in Cyrod," Telepe pointed out calmly. "I do not doubt that you have the power to, of course, but doing so would cause the collapse of Ayleid society. There are simply not enough mer to maintain their cities, and inevitably they would fall into disrepair and ruin. However," he continued, smiling warmly up at the Daedric Prince, "I can assure you that my proposition would portray you as a just, merciful goddess, and you would not only retain your Ayleid followers, but gain the worship of the hundreds of thousands of men residing in Cyrod as well – at least, those that do not already rightfully worship you," he added in a placating tone.
Meridia stared down at him silently, evidently considering his offer, while Telepe held his breath, not daring to say any more, silently hoping he hadn't overplayed his hand. At last, Meridia murmured, "Go on."
Telepe inclined his head. "First, you must outlaw slavery in Cyrod. That does not necessarily mean that you must completely overturn the current society," he added quickly as Meridia's eyes burned with rage. "Cyrod would indeed be more stable if the Ayleid kings were to retain their thrones. I agree with you, which is why I have been advocating for that policy since that war began, whenever possible. However, humans must be freed, else you shall face constant rebellion from now on."
Meridia folded her arms over her chest, her face settling into a neutral expression. "And why should I permit that?" she asked flatly.
Telepe hesitated for a moment. He had almost preferred it when she was clearly enraged with him; as her face settled into a blank mask, her reactions were becoming much more difficult to read, and he couldn't tell if she was honestly considering his proposals, or simply growing more furious. Even so, he continued, "If that request were met, I've little doubt the rebels would swiftly disarm, and Cyrod would be unified under you. The slaves would have no further reason to revolt, as their singular focus is upon their freedom. In granting their liberation, you would be seen by man and mer alike as benevolent and peaceful, and thousands of new converts would flock to worship you."
"Or I would be seen as weak for cowing to their demands," Meridia pointed out coldly. "And what of this religion that this slave-girl is forging? This worship of the Aedra? Am I to simply accept that as well?"
Telepe considered her question carefully for several long moments. "If you wish to achieve a lasting peace, ending the persecution of those who worship the Aedra would indeed further unify Cyrod," he said slowly. "In fact, the Paravant is already attempting to reconcile the myriad beliefs of her people by establishing a core pantheon of deities that the people of Cyrod would worship. I see no reason why we shouldn't recommend that you and some of your fellow Princes be included in this realm-wide pantheon."
Meridia straightened up a bit more. "Include me in her new pantheon, you say?" she asked.
"Certainly. None can deny your importance to Cyrod, after all," Telepe nodded. "You are beloved by the Ayleids, and the Paravant would be a fool not to include you as one of the chief deities. Perhaps even one or two of the other important – and benevolent – Daedric Princes might be considered. Azura, perhaps, or Sanguine. You, however, absolutely should be added. After all, you are the Lady of Life and Light, and you despise the undead, all of which are seen as universally positive traits by man and mer alike. It is only right that you be made part of this new pantheon."
Meridia nodded thoughtfully. "And in exchange, you ask only that I permit the freedom of humans in Cyrod?" she asked slowly.
"I must confer with the Paravant about the specifics, but broadly, yes," Telepe stated. There was a long pause, and then he added, "Of course, there is no need to answer immediately, Lady Meridia. If you require time to consider-"
"No… that is unnecessary, mortal," Meridia replied, uncrossing her arms. "I have heard all that I need, and I have already made my decision."
Suddenly, the specter held her hand out, and Telepe's body stiffened, leaving him completely paralyzed. His eyes widened with terror as his frozen body was lifted into the air and dragged forward so that he was staring directly into the blazing, golden eyes of the furious Daedric Prince.
"Foolish mortal!" Meridia hissed, her voice echoing painfully inside of his skull. "You dare presume to make demands of a Daedric Prince?! Did you truly believe you could manipulate me with a few trite words?!"
Telepe's heart hammered in his chest as quickly as a fly beating its wings, and he could barely breathe. He thought he knew fear. He had fought in several battles. He had been a hair's breadth from death at the end of Pelinal's blade. He had traveled the length and breadth of Cyrod and seen horrors that he had no doubt would haunt him until his final days. Yet he had never been so terrified as he was now, staring into the blazing eyes of the furious Daedric Prince that now held him helpless in her grasp.
"Every word you spoke was an insult, child," Meridia snarled, her invisible grip tightening slightly around him, sending a shock of pain through every inch of his body. "You would ask me to abolish slavery? I desire a world of order! How, then, would removing slavery enforce order?! Freedom is chaos! Worse, freedom is defiance!" She dragged him a little closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Do you believe those Ayleids you see at my feet are truly free? No. They have pledged their souls to me, so I allow them to rule their petty kingdoms in my name. That does not make them free. They know and understand this. You and the rebel slaves do not, and until you learn, you shall continue to suffer my wrath."
A dark, sardonic laugh made Telepe's mind throb. "What's more, you had the gall to suggest that I should be part of that slave girl's 'pantheon?' Do you know nothing of my history, fool? I was once a child of Magnus, one of the Magna-Ge. I was cast out from Aetherius by his command. Why would I ever desire association with any of the Aedra after that insult?! I forged my own realm while I was adrift in the dark waters of Oblivion! I earned my rightful place as one of the Princes of the Daedra! I would never submit to sharing worship with any other being, least of all the accursed Aedra!"
Meridia's voice lowered to a low murmur, her tone almost calm once again, but with a clear undertone of malice. "No, child. There shall be no negotiation, no peace, so long as the slaves of Cyrod presume to walk free. As I said, the victories that the rebels have earned are fleeting, inconsequential. My champion, Umaril, has power of Oblivion at his command. Should you slay a hundred of my warriors, a thousand, a million… what difference does it make? I shall simply provide him with more. This is a war you rebels cannot win. This slave-queen you follow, she claims to have the support of the Aedra… yet what have they provided her? A mad knight she cannot command? A hideous deformity, a disgusting mongrel of man and beast?" The Daedric Prince let out a derisive scoff. "Pathetic. I have given my champion an army. I have imbued him with my glorious light. The scant 'aid' of the Aedra pales in comparison to my glory, child. When you offered me the opportunity to join your proposed pantheon, you should have at least offered to name me its head. Of course, even the proposition of a pantheon is an insult in and of itself. When this uprising is put down, there shall be no choice which god the people shall worship. Those that refuse to bow before me shall be slain. Those that submit shall be spared their lives and have their needless 'will' stripped away. I shall transform Nirn into a realm of pure, glorious light, and I shall oversee an eternity of peace and order. Because it is right."
Throughout her speech, Meridia had seemed to be looking away, her gaze on some far-off point on the horizon. Now, however, her fiery gaze returned to Telepe, and terror seized him once more. "I have magnanimously explained the magnitude of your sins, mortal," she snarled. "Now you must be punished for your transgressions. Never have I encountered a mortal so arrogant, so imbecilic, as to dare demand anything from a Daedric Prince." She tilted her head at him thoughtfully, then murmured, "It would be so easy to slay you, but that would not be enough. Perhaps I should burn away your free will, and with it, your arrogance. You would be purified, your stain upon Nirn removed. Yet… no. That would be an honor, not a punishment. And that still is not enough to atone for your insults."
Meridia paused, her eyes narrowing in thought, and then a chilling smile spread across her lips. "I have decided mortal." Her glowing eyes flared, turning blinding white, with pale gold lingering at the fringes. Telepe screamed as he felt his own eyes burning as he was forced to stare into them, feeling as though he was being made to stare into the heart of a star. "Since you so value your will, I, in my infinite benevolence, shall allow you to keep it," she continued calmly. "However, since you do not yet know the majesty of my light, you shall be bathed in its purifying radiance. It shall accompany you always. You shall not know rest or respite, until you have atoned for your sins. To do so, you shall willingly call upon me to smite my most hated enemies. Then, once my enemies have been slaughtered by your vaunted will, I shall at last grant you peace. Then you shall return to submit to my benevolence and my will, for I am the only being in all of Nirn who shall accept you for the traitor that you are."
Meridia's eyes flared a brilliant, pure white, and for a few moments, Telepe was rendered blind. He screamed in agony as his vision was completely engulfed in white light, and he felt as though his eyes were aflame. He suddenly felt himself falling, and a second later he landed hard on the wet earth, which knocked the wind out of him. He laid there, twitching in pain, as the white haze faded, and his vision slowly returned.
Shakily, he rose to his knees and winced, then closed his eyes tightly. After a few seconds, however, the burning white haze returned. As it did, heat began to spread throughout his body, slowly burning his flesh, his bones, his organs. With a pained gasp, he snapped his eyes open. He shook his head and closed his eyes again, but once again the burning light returned, scorching his insides. He winced and opened his eyes, then blinked rapidly. The searing light didn't affect him when he blinked, but when he closed his eyes once again, a few seconds later he felt the painful heat boiling and spreading through his body once again.
As he opened his eyes, he slowly came to a horrific realization. If he couldn't close his eyes for more than an instant, he couldn't sleep, or else he might be burned alive. As Meridia said, he would know no rest or respite. Existence itself would be torture for him as he became increasingly fatigued, and it became increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. And what was worse… she had claimed the only way to lift the curse was to call upon her to slay the Paravant and her followers.
Panic began to well up inside of his chest as he staggered back against the statue of Meridia, his back pressed flat against the cold stone. He struggled for breath as he held himself up with one hand, keeping his eyes wide to avoid being burned by the light behind his eyelids. After a few moments, a shadow fell at his feet, and he looked up to see the wizened Ayleid priestess standing over him, wearing a smug smirk.
"It seems that my lady has chosen you to be her champion," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is a great honor that has never before been granted to a human like yourself. You should feel blessed, for if I am interpreting her will correctly, you shall bring an end to this accursed rebellion and restore peace to Cyrod! Behold! She has even marked you with a sign of her favor!"
The priestess held her hand out, and one of her acolytes handed her a polished silver platter that had been holding a quartet of wine goblets. She held the platter up, forcing Telepe to stare into its clear surface. After a moment, he realized that his eyes had changed. His irises were no longer deep silver, but instead a bright, molten gold – the same color as the nimbus that had surrounded Meridia's apparition.
"Blessed indeed," the priestess whispered. She then began laughing hysterically as Telepe slumped to the ground at the statue's feet, engulfed in horror and despair, while the priestess' mocking laughter echoed in his ears.
A/N: For the record, the little road connecting Miscarcand to the statue of Meridia no longer exists by the time of Oblivion. The statue of Meridia, also, has been torn down and rebuilt in different styles a few times over the past several thousand years by the Third Era, though the site itself remains sacred to Meridia, so her followers continue to erect shrines to her in that spot.