Tales of the First Era: Alessia

by Blackvvater

In the earliest days of recorded history, a half-elven Breton finds himself swept up in a war between the oppressive Ayleid Empire and their human slaves - a war that will determine the fate of Cyrod and the course of history for Tamriel.

33. Chapter 33: Letters

Chapter 33

Letters

Snow had begun to softly fall from the sky by the time Perrif and the remainder of her group returned through the gates of Sancre Tor. Many of the Nedes were wandering around the central plaza, gazing up at the sky with looks of wonder on their faces and sticking their hands and tongues out to catch the soft, white flakes. Telepe smiled lightly to himself as he watched the men gazing at the snowfall with almost childlike curiosity. He suspected that it was the first time many of them had even seen snow, and there was something charming about their awed reaction to it.

Telepe brought Emero to a stop next to the stables and dismounted, smiling to himself when the horse snorted at him disdainfully. Telepe raised an eyebrow at the beast and retorted, "You are never happy, are you? You complain when I don't ride you, you complain when I do ride you… are you certain that you're a horse and not a mule?" Emero snorted again and tossed his head, which made Telepe chuckle.

"You've returned!" a voice said behind him. Telepe handed the reins off to the stablegirl and turned around to see Tari smiling warmly up at him. A heavy fur cloak was draped around her small shoulders, and he was relieved to see that she'd had the good sense to put on her boots before walking out into the snow, despite her disdain for footwear.

"We have," Telepe replied rhetorically, placing a hand on her head as he walked by her. Tari's eyes widened, and she flushed brightly as she stood stock-still for a moment, stunned, before she realized he had already moved past her and hurried to catch up. "Unfortunately, no, we did not find Whitestrake," he added, guessing what her next question would be.

"…I see," Tari sighed. "Was there no sign of him at all?"

"Oh, there were plenty of signs of him," Telepe answered grimly. "We simply didn't encounter him personally." Noting her disappointed expression, he added, "However, it should not be long before we do find him."

"I shall send scouts after him once I have the opportunity," Perrif chimed in, approaching the pair as she dismounted her own horse. "First, I have a much more pressing matter to attend to. Telepe, I shall be in my quarters for the time being. I shall seek you out once I have completed my communion, and then we may discuss what to do next."

"As you say," Telepe replied, inclining his head towards her. Perrif nodded and smiled briefly in greeting to Tari, then turned and hurried away, her head down and her hands folded in front of her. Tari turned her head curiously towards Telepe, and he quickly explained, "She believes the gods are displeased with Whitestrake's actions, so she intends to pray to them and ask how she might repent on his behalf."

"I see," Tari murmured skeptically. When she raised an eyebrow at Telepe, silently asking for further explanation, he simply shrugged helplessly in reply.

"Did anything occur while we were away?" he asked, striding quickly towards the palace. They had broken camp before dawn and had been riding for most of the day, so he was eager to hurry inside and bask in the warmth of the palace's Dwemer heating system.

"Nothing of note, if you were expecting a battle," Tari replied with a shrug. "Moralasil and I have been training frequently, though I still have yet to discover how to encase my body in wood."

"Most spells take a significant amount of time to learn," Telepe assured her with a quick smile as a pair of guards pushed open the heavy doors to the palace for them. "I wouldn't fret."

"I'm not. Especially since I do feel the flow of magicka coming more easily with this spell," Tari said. "Though I was skeptical at first, I am starting to believe that he was correct, that modification magic is a style that I have a particular talent for."

"Excellent!" Telepe exclaimed, before letting out a long, slow sigh of relief as the warmth of the palace washed over him. His reddened ears stung from the sudden heat, but he welcomed the tingling sensation as his body seemed to slowly thaw. "If there's no business to attend to, then, I might enjoy some time in the bathhouse. Would you care to join me?" he added, glancing over at her.

"Perhaps later," Tari declined gently. Suddenly, her eyes widened as a thought seemed to strike her. "Ah! There was one thing. Varrun wished to speak with you once you returned. He mentioned that messages arrived for you a couple of days after you departed."

"Did they?" Telepe asked, letting out a disappointed sigh. "Well… I suppose I shouldn't delay in attending to that matter. Would you like to accompany me? I wish to hear more about how Moralasil is training you."

Tari smiled warmly up at him as they made their way through the halls of the palace, their boots barely making a sound on the warm fur rugs covering the wooden floors. As they walked, Tari explained how Moralasil was continuing to have her study the properties of wood, though by now he had also taught her the words to the spell.

"I've even managed to cast the spell, though it's been… limited thus far," Tari explained, holding her hand out. She murmured a few words under her breath, and after a moment, a magenta mote of light began glowing in her hand. Telepe noticed that where the light touched, a thin layer of bark coated her flesh. However, the light didn't extend beyond her palm, so only a very limited area was covered in wood.

"According to Moralasil, the next aspect I must master is extending the spell over more of my body," Tari said as they ascended the stone stairs to the rookery. "The problem I've encountered is spreading the magic evenly. Each time I try to move the spell along my body, the area I've already covered in wood reverts to skin. So, for instance, I can cover my wrist if I wish, but in doing so my hand shall once again be rendered bare, and the rest of my arm likewise remains uncovered where the light does not shine."

"I suppose that's unsurprising," Telepe commented as he stopped outside the door of the falcon coop. "You've only learned elemental magic thus far, and those spells only require you to provide the spark of energy necessary to initiate the spell. Fire shall continue to grow if there is enough wood nearby, even if you stop casting the spell. I presume that maintaining an alteration spell requires far more energy."

"Moralasil claims otherwise," Tari replied as he pushed open the door. "Rather, he said that the fact that the light in my hand does not dissipate means that I'm concentrating too much energy in one area. Supposedly, the spell requires no more magicka than a simple flame spell. However, if I've exhausted myself so much simply covering my palm with wood, how much more magicka must be necessary to protect my entire body?"

"Perhaps you're thinking about this wrong," Telepe suggested. "If it requires no more energy than a flame spell, then suppose we think of the spell as a flame. Perhaps instead of attempting to maintain the spell, you should instead cast the spell as you would your flame spell, and then let the magicka spread across your body naturally?"

Tari blinked at him, tilting her head. "So… you're suggesting that there's no reason to attempt to maintain the spell?"

"It's possible. If the spell transforms your body anyways, perhaps you only need to provide the initial energy for an instant – enough to encase yourself in wood for a set period of time. That might be why Moralasil claims you're over-exerting yourself," Telepe shrugged.

Tari glanced away, running her fingers through her hair. "I… never considered that," she admitted. She looked up again, giving him a sidelong, accusing glance. "Did you perhaps already know that, and you simply haven't told me?"

"Not at all," Telepe assured her quickly, holding his hands up defensively. "However, I am also familiar with spells other than elemental magic, whereas you are not. For instance, my light spell does require a bit of energy to maintain, but it's mostly self-sustaining once I provide the initial burst of magicka. I'm simply wondering if the same rules apply to alteration magic."

"Well, it's certainly an idea to consider. I shall speak with Moralasil about it the next time we're training," Tari replied as she motioned for him to enter the rookery ahead of her.

The pair stepped into the room holding over a dozen falcons, all of which were held in bronze cages. The shrieking cries of the birds echoed incessantly off the hollow stone walls, and an unpleasant musky odor filled the room. Fortunately, the rookery was at least pleasantly warm thanks to the roaring fire in the center of the room, diligently tended to by the keeper of the rookery, a middle-aged woman by the name of Barva. As Telepe and Tari approached her, she turned from the falcon she was feeding and brushed a bit of her silvering hair out of the way, smiling warmly at them as they approached.

"Good day," Telepe said by way of greeting. "Tari mentioned that you have messages for me?"

The woman smiled again and walked over to a shelf holding several scrolls. She spent a few moments checking the wax seals on the papyrus before returning to him and handing him two documents. Telepe smiled warmly at her and inclined his head in thanks, before leading Tari out of the room and down the stairs so that he could read them in the privacy of his room. A few minutes later, he pushed open the door and settled onto his chair, pausing briefly to stroke Secunda, who was curled up on his pillow. The cat watched him silently with its large amber eyes as he settled onto his chair and let out a sigh before unraveling the first scroll – a response from the Kingdom of Skyrim. Tari peered over his shoulder, frowning, and Telepe smiled at her briefly before reading aloud:

To the affable emissary of the Rebellion of Cyrod,

Greetings.

Know that the Kingdom of Skyrim has received your offer of an alliance, and we shall solemnly consider it. Know that we would indeed relish the chance to exact vengeance upon your cruel former masters. Many Nords have also been abducted by the foul Ayleids of Cyrod over the years, and we certainly wish to secure their freedom and return them safely to their homeland. We also weep for the cruelty you, our Nedic cousins, have endured at their hands. No man should suffer so under the whips of the diabolical elves. Sadly, as even the mighty bear must rest during the harsh winter, so too must our valiant warriors. Thus, we regret to inform you that we shall be unable to aid you until the snows have melted. Until then, we pray that you, the valiant dragons of the south, shall prevail against the despicable vultures that dare claim to be your masters. Once the mountain passes thaw in the spring, we shall speak once more about joining you in your noble struggle.

May Kyne watch over you and protect you.

King Vrage, High King of Skyrim, the Highlands, and Resdayn.

Telepe began laughing as he finished reading the letter, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Tari stared at him in confusion, tilting her head worriedly.

"Was there something in his response that amuses you?" she asked uncertainly. "Or annoys you, perhaps? Are you angry that he has not yet agreed to ally with us?"

"No, no, his response was completely reasonable," Telepe replied quickly, still chuckling as he set down the scroll. "In fact, it's more encouraging than I had expected. Rather, what amuses me is the way that he signed his name."

"As… High King? Is he not?" Tari asked uncertainly.

"Of Skyrim, certainly," Telepe explained. "That crown, at least, none shall dispute. No, what amuses me is that he is also claiming kingship over the Highlands – of Malabal, my homeland. He most certainly is not."

"Oh? Then why would he sign his name as such?" Tari asked, frowning.

"Because I'm certain he truly believes it," Telepe answered, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "I suppose it's not wholly unwarranted. He does control the Reach, and one could even argue that his influence extends into regions that are not typically considered part of Skyrim, such as the mountains west of the Reach. However, I can assure you that he does not control any lands beyond that range."

"What makes you say so?" Tari asked, taking a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Because I was there when his army reached the Bjoulsae River," Telepe replied with a smug grin. "A few years ago, my fa- my king received word that the Nordic army was approaching his territory. He and a few other local kings raised their armies and sallied out to meet him at a ford that they expected him to cross. King Vrage, on the other hand, was clearly not expecting resistance, and certainly not an army comprised of thousands of armed and angry Malabal warriors, ranging from the lowest Nedes through the Altmer kings. Man and mer alike were more than willing to meet his army in battle if he chose to cross the river, and he immediately understood the folly of attempting to do so."

"Was there a battle, then?" Tari pressed.

"There was not. Wisely, Vrage stood down and chose to negotiate instead," Telepe replied with a grin. "He struck a deal with the kings of Malabal where they would pay him a percentage of their wealth, and in exchange, he would 'graciously' allow the kings to retain their sovereignty, rather than invading their lands. The kings of Malabal agreed, though they were careful not to divulge how much wealth they truly possessed. As such, the goods they annually send to Skyrim are a pittance, barely even a fraction of the taxes they collect for themselves each year." Telepe smirked again, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm certain that Vrage considers it tribute from a conquered vassal. My king instead sees it as a bribe to keep an annoying bandit off the threshold of his palace."

"Indeed?" Tari asked, her eyes widening slightly. "So he controls nothing beyond the Bjoulsae River?"

"Well… there are a smattering of Nordic colonies along the coastline, including one at the westernmost tip of Malabal," Telepe admitted. "However, those villages scarcely number more than a few hundred Nords, at most, and they pose no threat to the local kings. If Vrage wishes to consider those outposts evidence that he has conquered all of Malabal, he is welcome to delude himself. I'm fairly certain that his claim of lordship over Resdayn is much the same, come to think of it."

"Then is he an unreliable ally?" Tari asked. "Is his army a farce too?"

"No. As I said, his reign over Skyrim is genuine, and the Nords are among the most feared warriors in Tamriel," Telepe stated as he set the scroll down and moved to unravel the other one. "We shall send him a positive reply, as we do wish to have them as allies. I'm simply amused by his… exaggeration of how much he truly rules over."

"Is that so?" Tari murmured. Then she motioned to the scroll he was unraveling. "If I might ask, then, what does that one say?"

Telepe broke the seal on the papyrus and unraveled it, his smile fading quickly as he began to read the contents. When Tari continued to stare at him expectantly, he coughed and began reading aloud to her:

Atkynd av Sunnagea,

We are pleased to hear that the initial goal of your expedition to the land of Cyrod has been completed satisfactorily, and we eagerly await further explanation of the trade routes that you have established with the Ayleid kings. It is unfortunate that this rebellion has prevented your swift return, though we do understand that war can make a journey difficult. It is our earnest wish that you return to our court safely and as soon as possible – if not for the sake of the kingdom, then for your mother's peace of mind.

We were also quite surprised to learn that you took it upon yourself to seek out the leader of this human rebellion. While we applaud your initiative, you would do well to remember that your assignment was only to treat with the Ayleid kings of Cyrod. Were we to be seen allying ourselves with an upstart rebellion, it could well draw the ire of not only the legitimate kings of Cyrod, but our own peers here in Malabal. Such a suggestion must not be proposed lightly, especially if you have not fully considered the ramifications of the very likely event that this rebellion is eventually defeated. Do not bind yourself too tightly to these slaves.

Nevertheless, we shall consider your recommendation of communicating with this rebel leader. In your next response, provide a list of the Ayleid kings that we might treat with so that we may commence trading with them when spring arrives.

Aluciel, King of the Bjoulsae

Telepe's heart pounded against his ribs, and he swallowed hard as he rolled up the scroll and set it on his desk, before running his hand slowly down his face as worry started to worm its way into the back of his mind. While his king hadn't dismissed his suggestion outright, it was clear that he was displeased that Telepe was aiding the rebellion. It seemed that he was willing to overlook Telepe's suggestion as nothing more than overenthusiasm for his assignment, but the rebuke was still clear – his king did not want him working with Perrif.

That presented him with a dilemma, he thought with a sigh as he ran his hand over his mouth. Could he simply leave the rebels to their own devices? Perrif was swiftly mastering diplomacy, and she was already adept enough at it to successfully negotiate deals with other Ayleid kings. He had agreed to train other emissaries, but if Perrif had a talent for diplomacy, could she not teach other envoys herself?

However, Telepe also realized that he was already too invested in the rebellion to simply abandon it now. For one, he did believe in Perrif's cause. The Nedes of Cyrod had suffered horrifically under the Ayleids, and the thought of leaving when so many were still largely enslaved by such vicious masters made him ill.

That, in turn, made him wonder – what would happen if he defied his king's orders and continued to aid the rebels? Would he be reprimanded and forced to return to Malabal immediately? Would he be stripped of his position as an emissary? Worse… could he be exiled from his homeland? The thought made his head spin, and he began breathing heavily as nausea roiled in his stomach.

"Telepe!" Tari exclaimed, stepping closer and tilting his chin up to peer into his eyes. "You've gone pale."

Telepe swallowed and tried to catch his breath, then he shook his head, trying to reassure Tari. "My apologies," he replied evasively. "Simply put, my king disagrees with some of the decisions that I've made, and he reprimanded me for acting independently without consulting him."

"…Is it because you chose to aid the rebellion?" Tari asked softly.

Telepe blinked at her, then let out a rueful chuckle. She was far too sharp, he thought wryly. "My original assignment was to negotiate trade deals with the Ayleid kings, not the rebels. My king still considers you illegitimate outlaws, and he fears the backlash he would receive if he acknowledged the rebellion by agreeing to a trade deal. Rightfully, I might add," he admitted when Tari scowled. "I imagine that to the rest of Tamriel, this rebellion is nothing more than an unlawful uprising that should be swiftly put down by the rightful kings of Cyrod. What's more, my father's peers are all elven, so to suggest that he treat with humans…."

"I thought that humans in Malabal were treated with more respect than they are here," Tari murmured quietly, her voice laced with anger.

"They are. But they're still considered inferior to elves," Telepe replied with a sigh. "He also made it clear that he believes that I overstepped my bounds by offering my assistance to you. It's a transgression that he's willing to overlook this once, but he impressed upon me that he wishes for me to return to my original assignment."

"And shall you?" Tari asked bluntly.

Telepe grimaced and looked away, folding his arms over his chest. "I… shall do as my king bids, but I also wish to continue to at least offer advice to the rebellion," he replied quietly. "For now, I believe that I shall proceed as I have been – working on behalf of my king, while offering Perrif what aid I can." He glanced over his shoulder and smiled weakly at her. "After all, if this rebellion does succeed, he shall be in an excellent position to be one of the first to have a favorable trading relationship with the new nation."

"Shrewd of you to consider all eventualities, Telepe," a voice remarked from the doorway. Telepe and Tari both turned to see Perrif standing with her hands folded in front of her, a slight smile playing on her lips. As she stepped into the room, she continued, "However, while I value your aid, I do not wish to place you in the position where you must choose between conflicting loyalties. If you feel that you must heed your king's orders…."

"This is simply a dilemma that I shall need to solve for myself, Perrif," Telepe replied, inclining his head graciously. "But I thank you for taking my problems into consideration. I shall find a solution on my own, rest assured. In any case, you have your own troubles, so don't focus upon mine." His smile faded slightly, and he added, "Have you finished communing with the gods?"

"I have," she sighed. "As I feared, they are furious about the destruction that Pelinal wrought upon the land. Nirn is their creation, after all, and they are spiritually tied to it, so an assault upon the world is an assault upon them. It is also a grave insult, as they sent him to help liberate us, yet in his madness, Pelinal has been indiscriminate, slaying man, mer, and anything living. They feel that if he is a such a blight upon creation, perhaps it is kinder to undo it altogether."

Telepe glanced at Tari, who was wide-eyed with horror. He personally wasn't sure how to feel about Perrif's assertion. He'd never been particularly pious, and he still found it difficult to believe that Perrif had a true connection to the gods, despite Morihaus and Pelinal's insistence that they were divine beings themselves. As such, he wondered if Perrif was being hyperbolic, though he was wise enough not to voice his concerns.

"If that's so, then how might we appease them?" Tari asked.

Perrif exhaled slowly, folding her hands in front of her. "The gods demand three sacrifices of me before they shall consider Pelinal's sins atoned for-" she began.

"His sins?" Telepe echoed in disbelief, his eyes narrowing. "If Whitestrake is the one committing these acts, he should be the one atoning for them, not you."

"The gods sent Pelinal to aid me. As he acts on my behalf, I am responsible for his actions," Perrif replied calmly. "This is simply how it must be."

"It is unjust," Telepe scowled.

"Perhaps. But it is necessary to abide by the gods' demands," Perrif replied, a serene smile crossing her face.

Telepe let out a slow sigh of disgust, running his hand over his face. "Very well. What are these sacrifices you mentioned?"

"The first is a sacrifice of devotion," Perrif said. "I shall remain in solitude for three days, where I shall fast and pray, without food or rest."

Telepe raised an eyebrow, then snarled, "Would they deprive you of heat as well?"

Perrif blinked, then laughed gently. "They do not wish for me to perish, Telepe," she assured him. "I need not hold my vigil in the snow, if that concerns you. I shall retire to one of the towers, and while I am praying, I ask not to be disturbed."

Telepe bit the inside of his cheek, folding his arms over his chest. "As you wish. The second sacrifice?"

"A sacrifice of blood," Perrif answered. "In sight of the gods, I must spill my blood upon consecrated ground in their name."

"Yet you claim they don't wish for you to perish?" Telepe retorted drily.

"I shall not offer all of my blood," Perrif chuckled. "But the Divines wish to see that I am willing to give not just my soul, but my body to our cause." When Telepe continued to scowl, she smiled faintly and added, "Many have already shed blood on behalf of the rebellion. Even you, Telepe. This is no different."

Telepe blinked, then sighed as he realized he didn't have a rebuttal. "And what of the third sacrifice?" Tari prompted.

"A sacrifice of wealth, though they have demanded something specific for this sacrifice," Perrif replied, smiling gently. "The Aedra would have us devote our resources to the raising of a grand temple in their honor. It shall be consecrated in the name of the Divines, to show that we of the rebellion wholly reject the grip that the Daedra have on Cyrod. It shall also provide our people with a place of worship, where they might properly honor the gods."

"That request at least makes sense," Telepe admitted, letting out a sigh of relief. "Especially considering that the only temple dedicated to a Divine that I have seen in Cyrod was the Temple of Magnus in Ceya-Tar."

"Indeed," Perrif smiled.

"Though that does raise a question," Tari remarked. "Which of the gods will this temple be raised in the name of?"

Perrif blinked, her smile fading. "I had planned to devote it to all of the Aedra," she said slowly.

"But suppose that a worshipper wished to pray to a specific god," Tari asked, though her tone was more curious than outright hostile. "What if they wished to pray to Dibella? Would there be an altar to her?"

"I'm certain we can construct it that way, yes," Perrif said slowly. "Inhaal is a clever architect, after all. I doubt it would be much trouble for him."

"Then what of other deities?" Telepe chimed in, catching on to what Tari was asking. "For instance, even the Daedra-worshipping Ayleids tend to feel a strong connection to Auriel, as he is the patron of the elves. Would you place an altar to him in this new temple?" When Perrif hesitated, Telepe pressed, "Certainly, our Ayleid allies would appreciate the gesture. However, though Auriel is counted among the Aedra, does he truly have a vested interest in seeing our rebellion succeed? If not, should he be so honored? And what of the Nedes and Nords, who would undoubtedly be offended by his presence in a human temple? Yet, on the other hand, considering that Auriel is a major deity, regardless of how your men view him, can we truly afford to shun him?"

Perrif opened her mouth, then closed it and let out a rueful chuckle as she ran her fingers through her dark curls. "I see. In truth, it was not something I had considered. Thus far, I have conversed with many of the gods – including Auriel – and I had not thought to offer them specific sites of worship in this new temple, as I had presumed others would also worship the Divines as a whole. Nevertheless, you both make an excellent point. It is something I must meditate on more before I come to a decision." She smiled brightly up at them, adding sincerely, "Thank you for bringing that to my attention."

"There's no need to thank us. It was simply an idle thought," Tari replied with a shrug.

"And I do agree that constructing a temple is an excellent idea," Telepe added. Though he wasn't particularly pious himself, he did understand that religion was an important part of life for many. If nothing else, the temple would help to unify Perrif's rebels, to give them a shared sense of identity. It was not something he ordinarily would have thought of. What's more, if the gods truly did wish for Perrif to succeed, it was important not to offend them, he thought with a wry smile.

"When do you wish to perform this ritual?" Tari asked.

"The gods have informed me that I shall receive a sign when they wish for me to begin," Perrif sighed. "Until then, I must prepare myself physically and spiritually for the trial ahead. Fasting for three days and then letting blood is no simple feat, after all. The gods have assured me that if I show my sincerity in my devotion to them, they shall soothe Pelinal's madness and ensure his safe return."

"Then we should soothe him as swiftly as possible, before the knights you sent to retrieve him encounter him while he's still enraged," Telepe said drily.

Perrif blinked at him, then chuckled reluctantly. "Indeed," she agreed with a wry smile. "Though I believe they shall not encounter him for at least a short while."

"If luck is on their side," Telepe agreed. His gaze drifted to the half-open window, where he could see the snow swiftly piling on the ground – already it was up to the knees of those still frolicking in it outside. "Though if they're experiencing snowstorms like this one, their progress shall be slowed even further." He glanced back at Perrif, adding, "This is a good time to pray for several days, come to think of it. It's not as though we'll be able to travel anywhere else, and we shall need to find ways to pass the time."

"Quite…." Perrif agreed, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes fell on the papyrus scrolls laid out on Telepe's desk, and then she looked up at him. "In fact, before I commence this ritual… Telepe, there is something I would like to request of you."

"Which is?" Telepe asked easily.

"Teach me to read and write?" Perrif asked.

Telepe's eyes widened briefly, but before he could respond, Tari chimed in, "I as well! You swore that you would begin teaching me once we had an opportunity!"

Telepe opened his mouth, then closed it and held up his hands. "Very well! Very well," he said, chuckling lightly at the pair's enthusiasm. "However, I must warn you that you shall not become literate in only a few days. We will need to continue teaching you even after your ritual has been completed." He tilted his head thoughtfully, then added, "Come to think of it, perhaps I should hold open lessons for any who wish to learn."

"A wise decision," Perrif agreed with a smile. "After all, if more of our people are literate, you need not serve as the only scribe."

"Indeed," Telepe nodded. "You said you shall spend three days in seclusion, yes?"

"I shall, once the gods inform me that they wish for me to begin," Perrif said, her smile fading. "And I believe I shall require a day or two after my vigil to recover."

"Very well. Then, I shall begin teaching you to read as soon as possible," Telepe said gently. He then reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "But please… do not push yourself too hard repenting for a sin that you didn't commit. Especially since it won't do us any good if you collapse before we've retrieved Pelinal," he added with a pointed look. "I've no doubt that his rage at Huna's death would pale in comparison to how he would react if he learned you had overexerted yourself on his behalf."

"I shall do as the gods ask of me," Perrif replied stoically. "Nothing less." When Telepe continued to stare at her, however, her expression softened, and she added, "But once my task is fulfilled, I shall heed your advice."

"I wish you would heed it now," Telepe muttered. "But… very well. You also said you wish to prepare yourself for your fast. Will you need anything before you begin your vigil?"

"As I said, I must secure a chamber for myself. Preferably in a tower, where I can be closer to the gods. With a fire for warmth," she added when Telepe narrowed his eyes at her. "Would you also let the others know that I am not to be disturbed?" she added, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

"I shall be sure to pass it along," Telepe nodded as he watched her walk out of the room with Tari following closely behind her. He sighed and turned around to gather up the papyrus, adding to himself, "Speaking to the gods… even if she does, it seems that all they do is make demands of her and provide very little in return."

"Such is their nature, is it not?" a purring female voice commented.

"I suppose so," Telepe replied, chuckling. "Though it-"

He suddenly stopped, a deep frown forming on his lips. He slowly turned to look over his shoulder at the doorway. The door was still open, and he was certain that Tari and Perrif had already left the room. As such, there was no one else with him… was there?

Telepe spun around, glancing furtively around the room, his heart pounding. So far as he knew, there was no one else with him. Was it a wraith, then? Was he being haunted?

"Ah, yes, my apologies," the voice said lazily. Telepe's eyes fell on the bed, where Secunda was laying languidly on the pillow, flicking her tail. As the cat stared at him, she asked, "This one did not properly introduce herself, did she?!"

Telepe's eyes widened, then he let out a sharp cry as he scrambled for his sword. "Wh-what?!" he demanded, struggling to pull the blade out of its sheath.

The cat calmly rose onto its haunches and let out a languid yawn. "Please do not draw your blade," she asked in a bored drawl. "This one has no desire to fight you, and you have nothing to fear from me."

"I beg to differ!" Telepe exclaimed. "What are you?! A daedra?!"

"How rude of you," the cat snarled, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. "This one is no more a daedra than you are."

"Then… what… what are you, exactly?" Telepe asked, forcing himself to calm down, though he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. Although he was still wary, Secunda did not seem hostile. If anything, she merely seemed amused by his reaction.

"As this one said, we have not been properly introduced," the cat replied. "This one is what you may call Khajiit."

"Khajiit?" Telepe repeated, frowning. The word sounded vaguely familiar.

"Mm. We are, as you say, the cat-men of the south," the feline replied, pushing herself up to slowly pace back and forth on his blanket.

"Is… Khajiit your name, then?" Telepe asked.

"No. It is what our race is called. This one you may refer to as Ra'karra," the Khajiit replied. "And this one already knows your name, of course, Telepe."

Telepe swallowed and slowly put down his sword, then walked over to his pitcher of wine and slowly poured himself a goblet. He took his time sipping the deep red liquid as his heart rate slowed, and after a few moments, his voice was steady enough to ask, "Forgive my bluntness, Ra'karra, but… you have been in my room since we returned from Ceya-Tar, yes? If you are capable of speech and thought, why did you not speak with me sooner?"

"This one had no time to reveal my true nature after we returned before you were off once more, gallivanting across Cyrod to retrieve your silver warrior," Ra'karra replied with a dry chuckle. "I had intended to speak with you, but there was no opportunity to do so."

"You could have done so during the journey to Sancre Tor," Telepe pointed out.

"And risk the fearful responses of your peers?" Ra'karra countered. "You seem quite sharp and peaceable, yet even you nearly drew your blade upon me before I could explain myself. I sincerely doubt most of your comrades would allow me the time to even do that much."

"…A fair point," Telepe conceded with an embarrassed wince. "Forgive me."

"This one is used to others' fear," Ra'karra answered with a shrug – an odd gesture, coming from a quadrupedal creature, Telepe thought wryly. "I have learned to remain silent and listen, only speaking when it is necessary."

"You have clearly deemed it necessary now," Telepe pointed out, pausing to take another drink of his wine. "If I may ask, what do you wish from me?"

"Is it not obvious?" Ra'karra replied with a chuckle. "I serve the same role for Khajiit that you do for your people. I am an emissary, and I wish to treat with you."

Telepe stared at the feline silently for a few moments. Every time he thought that he had become accustomed to the strangeness of Nirn, the world took it upon itself to prove him wrong. If, when he'd started his journey, he had been told that he would conduct diplomacy with a talking cat….

"Very well," Telepe said. He took a short breath to compose himself, and then he squared his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back. "What would you like to discuss?"

Ra'karra stared at him, unblinking, for a short while as her tail swayed behind her. "This one approached you because you are seeking allies, yes? It may be that our peoples can mutually benefit from friendship with one another."

"The rebellion certainly would not turn away friends when they approach with open hands," Telepe agreed. A moment later, he quickly corrected himself, "Paws, rather." An awkward silence followed as Ra'karra stared at him, and Telepe cleared his throat. "However, I must confess that I am curious as to why you are speaking with us. The Ayleids remain the dominant power in the region, and you were apparently in Ceya-Tar for quite some time, yes? Why did you not approach them, if you're interested in forging diplomatic bonds?"

"This one was in Ceya-Tar to observe, not to treat with them. We do not trust these mer," Ra'karra replied simply. "We have watched for many years as they took men of all races from their homelands and bound them in chains. Khajiit fear that if we were to approach them, they would do the same with us. It is why we are hesitant to reveal ourselves to other races, as they may only see us as mindless beasts, easily exploitable for labor or entertainment as curiosities. These Ayleids have already more than proven that this would likely be our fate, were we to attempt to converse with them."

Telepe blinked at Ra'karra, then tilted his head. "Forgive me if this seems rude, but… they would exploit you for labor…?"

"This one is not representative of all Khajiit," Ra'karra explained patiently. "This form is diminutive, true, but there are many Khajiit who are larger, faster, stronger. Some of my kin dwarf tigers, and others walk upon two legs, with hands far more powerful than either man or mer. It would not be unexpected that the Ayleids would covet our strength and skill, were they made aware of our presence."

"I see," Telepe inclined his head. "My apologies. I did not intend to insult you."

"You speak out of ignorance, not malice. This one does not take offense," Ra'karra assured him. "Nevertheless, we are also hesitant to tie our fates to yours just yet. While your armies are mighty and your queen appears noble, there are many factors that give us pause."

"Such as?" Telepe asked, keeping his tone light to suggest that they were more than willing to address Ra'karra's concerns.

"The main worry this one has is that you rely upon the unreliable – namely, the knight that your queen names Pelinal," Ra'karra stated pointedly. "Have you achieved no victories without his aid?"

"Not at all," Telepe said quickly, and truthfully. "Whitestrake is a valuable asset, true, and we are weakened without him, but the rebellion has emerged victorious in several battles where he did not participate, particularly in the east."

"Yet your queen also feels that she must repent for his sins. She apologizes on his behalf and does not punish him for his transgressions. This is worrying. What's more, his strength seems unpredictable at best, and she does not seem to fully control him," Ra'karra pointed out. "What's more, his hatred is directed at races that are not men."

"Elves. His hatred is directed at mer," Telepe corrected Ra'karra firmly.

"Can you say with absolute certainty that he would not also turn his blade upon Khajiit?" Ra'karra countered, her amber eyes narrowing.

Telepe hesitated, then reluctantly glanced away. "I can say that I have never seen him turn his wrath upon a beast, at least to my knowledge," he said weakly. "I cannot say for certain how he would react if you were to speak with him, Ra'karra. What I can say is that he obeys the Paravant, and if she ordered him not to attack you or your people, he would obey her." He turned back to the feline and added, "If you require her assurances, I can ask her to speak with you directly-"

"If I wished to address her, I would have done so when I had the opportunity," Ra'karra replied simply. "I chose to speak with you."

Telepe couldn't help but smile slightly, flattered by her response. "Very well. Regardless, if the Paravant ordered him not to attack your people, he would obey her command."

"You are certain?" Ra'karra pressed.

"It is the only reason I still live," Telepe replied with a wry smile.

Ra'karra gazed at him silently for several long moments, and then she nodded slowly. "Your reassurance is heartening," she said. "Nevertheless, this one still has doubts about your queen's ability to restrain one as wild as the Whitestrake. He seems as thoughtless and violent as a kitten, and despite your words, I still do not trust him."

"As you say. Then what can we do to gain your trust?" Telepe asked.

Ra'karra turned her eyes up towards the ceiling thoughtfully, then looked back down. "For now, this one shall remain here and observe. If I decide that these rebels are indeed trustworthy, we may later discuss a proper alliance. Until then, I would ask that you not reveal my presence to others."

Telepe frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "I am uncomfortable with that request," he protested. "It is difficult enough for me to earn the trust of the others, given my heritage. Were they to discover that I am essentially harboring a spy in their midst, I would lose their trust completely."

"You shall lose mine if you do not comply," Ra'karra growled.

"Then I shall accept that loss," Telepe countered sharply, narrowing his eyes. "I shall not keep secrets from those that I already aid for the sake of possibly securing an alliance in the future. What's more, while I understand your concerns for your safety, if my own untrustworthiness is discovered and I am cast out, you shall also find it impossible to secure an alliance at all. After all, no one would be fool enough to trust an envoy that concealed who they are from them." When Ra'karra looked away, he added, "If you are willing to compromise, I wish to at least inform the Paravant and her other trusted advisors of our discussion and who you are. Perhaps the common warriors need not know of your nature, but it is vital that the leaders of this rebellion are aware of whom we are treating with."

Ra'karra gave him a sidelong look, then sighed and inclined her head. "Very well. This is acceptable," she agreed reluctantly.

"Then we shall endeavor to prove ourselves worthy of your friendship," Telepe said, his shoulders relaxing as he smiled.

"This one hopes so," Ra'karra murmured. She snapped her head up suddenly, adding, "If it is all the same to you, I would like to continue using this room. It is quite comfortable, and it is a good place to retreat to when I am not roaming the city. Furthermore, you may continue to refer to me as Secunda when we are not speaking directly." A slight smile spread across her lips, which looked so unusual on her feline face that Telepe couldn't help but stare. "In truth, you honored this one more than you likely realized. The moons are sacred to Khajiit, and so, to be named after one is rather flattering."

"Ah… then I'm glad that you're pleased with it," Telepe chuckled. A thought struck him suddenly, and asked, "What if you are discovered by the warriors and they attack you? Will you be unable to defend yourself?"

"This one is not so helpless as she looks," Ra'karra assured him with a soft laugh. "Mer are not the only race capable of powerful magicks."

Telepe's eyes flashed briefly at that thought. "Is that so? I'm uncertain if I'm comfortable with you sharing a room with me, in that case," he murmured.

"You may expel this one, if you wish," Ra'karra remarked with a lazy yawn. "However, you have my word that I shall never turn my magicka upon you."

Telepe gazed at the cat as she curled into herself and closed her eyes, settling in for a nap. As he watched her, he suddenly remembered that he had wanted to learn a way to protect himself against other mages. It seemed that he now had more reason than ever to follow up on that decision, he thought drily as the Khajiit began snoring peacefully against his pillow.

---

"So, how would we spell the word 'bal'?'" Telepe asked, pacing back and forth in front of a large slab of slate, rolling a piece of chalk between his fingers.

There was a short pause, and then two hands immediately went up. Telepe raised an eyebrow and suppressed an amused sigh at the expected immediate response from Tari and Perrif. He shook his head and raised his free hand.

"Let's allow someone else to answer," he chided them gently, though the smile on his lips softened his chastising. His eyes raked over the score of students seated before him, and then he pointed to one sitting near the edge of the crowd. "What about you, Sevri? Come up here and write it out, if you would."

A teenaged Nede pushed himself up and shuffled up to the chalkboard, giving Telepe a surly look as he did. Telepe studiously ignored his glare – he knew Sevri was only attending the lessons at the behest of his mother, who insisted that the boy would have more of a future as a scribe than as a farmer. However, it was evident that the boy had no talent and no interest, which once again became profoundly clear when he scratched a few runes on the slate and turned to glare sullenly at Telepe.

"Incorrect," Telepe replied, frowning as he touched the lines. "First, you wrote out 'rel,' rather than 'bal.' Second, you need to reverse the order of the letters; you write left to right, not right to left," he explained, indicating the direction with his hand. "Study a bit harder and we'll hold this lesson again another time."

The boy gave him the chalk back without a word and slunk back towards the crowd of students, all but throwing himself onto the floor with a sigh. Telepe resisted the urge to frown as his gaze raked over the assemblage. Many had glazed eyes or were fidgeting, indicating that he shouldn't keep them any longer.

"We shall continue this lesson tomorrow," Telepe announced, setting the chalk down on a nearby table. "For now, continue to memorize the alphabet, and write the words that I've taught you ten times before you sleep tonight."

The students pushed themselves up with groans and sighs of relief as Telepe discreetly smiled to himself. As he had expected, most were slow to learn, though from his own experiences as a student, that wasn't uncommon. Few people only needed to be shown something once before they mastered it, and none of his students had ever had any sort of formal education. Tari at least had the benefit of studying a craft at the feet of a scholar, and since she was used to needing to learn quickly, she had little trouble memorizing the alphabet on the first day. That, combined with her earnest desire to learn to read, propelled her to the top of his class. In that aspect, she was rivalled only by Perrif herself, who was equally eager to learn, and clearly had a natural gift for languages.

The other student who showed promise was a young Nordic boy by the name of Arnfinn. Though the red-haired child had not yet reached adolescence, he had memorized the alphabet faster than most of the adults he had taught, and he often approached Telepe to ask if there was additional chalk that he could use to write his letters, which Telepe was quite happy to provide. In fact, he acknowledged that Arnfinn's handwriting was already neater than his own. Once the boy became a bit more familiar with writing, Telepe was considering taking him on as a page. It would certainly relieve some of the pressure if he had an apprentice who could help draft letters and missives.

"Well. It seems that you make a fair instructor," a weathered voice commented from the back of the room. Telepe looked up, his eyes widening briefly when he saw Moralasil standing near the doorway, leaning heavily on his staff, his milky eyes staring blankly ahead. "Though it remains to be seen if you shall make an apt pupil as well."

"My apologies!" Telepe said quickly, hurrying forward to take the Ayleid's arm. "I asked Tari to inform you that I wished to speak with you this afternoon, but I did not intend for you to seek me out. When this lesson finished, I meant to come to you-"

"Bah!" Moralasil said dismissively, waving him off. "Only my eyes are damaged, boy. My legs are fine. What's more, I've spent more time than I care to, sitting in a room waiting for others to come to me when they require instruction."

Telepe grimaced and glanced away uneasily. "I meant no disrespect…."

"No, you didn't," Moralasil chuckled, clasping his staff with both hands. "Rest assured, I am not insulted. Now, what did you wish to ask me?"

Telepe straightened up and folded his hands behind his back. "Over the past few weeks, I've realized that although Tari has made remarkable progress in her magical studies, it shall likely still be some time before we have even a single human mage who can best an Ayleid sorcerer. Though we are allied with a few elven mages, our opponents' sorcerers greatly outnumber ours. Furthermore, considering how rapidly alliances tend to shift in Cyrod, I fear the possibility that our limited cadre of magic-users may turn against us one day." He began pacing back and forth in front of Moralasil, looking away thoughtfully. "What's more, once we finally do have mages that are the equal of our enemies', the fact remains that theirs could still do significant damage to our warriors. What is the point of decimating an army with magic if our opponents can do the same?" Telepe paused, gazing at Moralasil pointedly. "Thus, I was wondering if there is a method that would allow us to nullify enemy mages before they can wreak havoc upon us."

"I see," Moralasil nodded thoughtfully. "An intriguing question. Very well… allow me to ask you this, then: What do you believe is the best method to prevent a mage from damaging our armies?"

Telepe only briefly considered the question before answering firmly, "Prevent them from casting spells in the first place."

"Very good!" Moralasil nodded, smiling. "And correct. Now then, my second question: How would you do so?"

Telepe opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "I'm afraid that's where I've been unable to devise a solution," he admitted.

Moralasil regarded him quietly for a few moments, then commented, "Tari has mentioned that you are talented with sensory magic, yes?"

Telepe looked up, blinking in surprise. "I would not say that I'm talented," he said slowly in an evasive tone. "I find that two spells come fairly easily to me – a spell to conjure a ball of light, and a spell to soothe the tempers of others."

"Let us say you have an affinity for it, then," Moralasil corrected himself. "In any case, if you are skilled with sensory magic, then that is a blessing for you, as there already exists a method to neutralize nearly any spellcaster."

"Indeed?" Telepe asked eagerly.

Moralasil smiled slightly again. "What would you say is the most vital component of a spell?" he asked.

"The raw magicka itself," Telepe answered immediately.

Moralasil chuckled. "Very good. And the second is intent, or willpower. Then what is the third?"

"The incantation," Telepe replied quickly.

"Mm," Moralasil agreed. "Now, it is possible to sever a mage's connection to magicka, but to do so requires a great deal of power, often draining the one casting it as well. If you wished to disrupt intent, your charm spell is already an excellent solution, but the efficacy of that spell depends upon the victim's will, and most mages have a great deal of mental fortitude, which would likely lessen or mitigate the effect of that spell. Thus, let us focus on the third major component of the spell – the incantation. How would you prevent them from intoning the spell?"

Telepe briefly considered the question, then reluctantly shook his head. "The only solution I can imagine is slaying the mage before they cast it," he admitted.

"Crude, but effective, yes," Moralasil admitted. "There is, however, a much subtler method."

The sage suddenly held up his hand and whispered something. A flash of green light struck Telepe in the chest before he could react. He opened his mouth to indignantly protest, but then his eyes widened in shock as his voice died in his throat. He struggled to speak, but even when he tried to yell, he remained silent. Moralasil chuckled as he leaned on his staff.

"This is the alternative," the Ayleid announced smugly. "If you can prevent a spellcaster from speaking his spell aloud, you negate his ability to cast magic."

Telepe scowled, then held his hand out. A small flame appeared in his hand, crackling loudly in the still air. Moralasil tilted his head, his pointed ear seeming to twitch, and then he nodded.

"Ah, I see. Yes, Tari mentioned that you have mastered the art of silently casting spells. While that does negate the silencing of a spellcaster, rest assured that yours is a rare skill. Perhaps one in fifty spellcasters you encounter might have that ability. In general, silencing a mage robs them of their ability to cast spells," Moralasil stated.

Telepe let out a soft hum, then abruptly realized that he could speak again. He let out a sigh of relief, then tilted his head. "Yet Tari's previous instructor said it was a nigh-useless skill," he remarked.

"It is an unusual skill, and it may seem to have little utility," Moralasil explained. "No skill, however, is wholly useless. What matters is not the skill, but the creativity of the one using it."

"If that's the case, then perhaps we should consider teaching Tari how to silently cast as well," Telepe suggested.

"It is not something she would learn readily," Moralasil replied calmly. "Tari is talented and has a great deal of raw potential, but she is also passionate and willful. Silent casting requires one to have a calm, clear mind, free of distractions, which Tari presently lacks. She could be taught in time, but for now, it is more important for her to learn as many spells as possible, rather than learning different methods of casting a few." Moralasil smiled slightly, and he added, "In truth, you impress me in your own right, Telepe. You certainly are not her equal in power, but you appear to have more control over the few spells you have learned. That is impressive in its own right."

"You flatter me," Telepe replied, inclining his head graciously. "So how do I learn to silence others?"

"First, you must learn to cast sound," Moralasil explained. "You claimed that you can already conjure light, correct? The principle is not dissimilar. Simply channel your magic into producing a sound. Any sound."

Telepe frowned faintly, then held out his hand and concentrated. He felt the rush of magicka in the palm of his hand, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before focusing. When he created light, he imagined the orb rising from his palm. Instead, he imagined a burst of sound erupting from his fingertips. After concentrating for a few moments, he released the magic, and a loud bang echoed off the walls of the room. Telepe winced as the crack rang in his ears, and he grimaced apologetically as Moralasil flinched away from the sound.

"Well done," Moralasil remarked, his tone genuinely impressed even as he rubbed his inner ear. "I did not expect you to cast it on your first attempt."

"You mentioned that it was not dissimilar to the light spell," Telepe explained. "Thus, I simply applied the same principles."

"Very good. Excellent control indeed," Moralasil smiled. "Now, what you must next master is releasing the magic… but preventing the sound itself from escaping. Attempt this now, please."

Telepe let out a soft sigh and nodded. He was used to paradoxes when it came to sensory magic – he had encountered a similar one when he had first learned his charming spell, as that spell required one to remain calm while channeling their vigor into magicka.

Closing his eyes, he again focused his energy on producing a burst of sound, but this time he simultaneously attempted to contain the sound. As such, he felt the drain on his energy grow exponentially as the magicka expanded, and when he finally released it, the sound once again erupted from his palm, though he thought that perhaps it was a touch more muffled than his prior attempt. Moralasil chucked gently, though not unkindly, as he shifted his grip on his staff.

"Therein lies your task," Moralasil said calmly. "Once you can fully silence conjured sound, you will have grasped the essence of the spell. It shall be a most effective counter against almost any sorcerer that you encounter."

"Yes… and I imagine it has other utilities as well," Telepe remarked. "It would be valuable in dispatching sentries, for instance, without permitting them to call for help."

Moralasil tilted his head thoughtfully. "Indeed," he remarked, his tone suggesting that he hadn't thought of that. "Your mindset intrigues me, boy." When Telepe frowned and made a soft, questioning noise, Moralasil explained, "Between your desire to learn how to silence enemies and your ability to charm them, you approach magic from an unusual perspective. Most mages are focused upon gathering more power than their foes, or mastering every spell they can so that they can overwhelm an enemy with their various techniques. Few consider countering their opponents by simply removing their tools altogether. And what's more, you appear to favor doing so non-lethally, if possible."

"Well… there are times when lethal force is necessary, but I find that a softer hand generally encourages others to be more open to negotiation in the future," Telepe explained. "While there are exceptions, most beings – man and mer alike – are generally reasonable. Though they would still gladly use you for their own ends, a gesture of goodwill – such as sparing their lives whenever possible – tends to make them more amenable to proposals and compromises that are mutually beneficial."

Moralasil laughed gently. "Tari was correct. You're no mage, Telepe. You are an emissary, through and through. Truly, it's a shame there aren't more who think as you do. Many lives would have been spared from pointless wars if there were."

"Then perhaps the Paravant's rebellion shall be the first step towards achieving a more peaceful future," Telepe shrugged.

"Perhaps. But do not forget that there are centuries of animosity between both the Ayleids and their slaves that we must overcome before we achieve that future," Moralasil warned him. "I approve of your idealism, but do not allow it to foster naivete. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, as they say." Telepe bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as the Ayleid turned and held his staff out to find the edge of the doorway. "Continue to practice, Telepe, and seek me out if you require more advice… or if you simply wish to speak with me. Pleasant conversation was a luxury denied to me for many years, after all." He chuckled faintly, then concluded, "Until then, I shall pray for your success."

Moralasil smiled again and shuffled out of the room, leaving Telepe standing alone in front of the slate slab, wondering if the elf meant his success in mastering the spell, or in aiding the rebellion. Frowning, he held his hand out and narrowed his eyes at his palm, gathering magicka in the center of it to attempt the silencing spell once more. The sounds of his heavy breathing soon began echoing off the wall, periodically interrupted by the snaps and cracks of released magicka punctuating his repeated failures.