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.

49. Chapter 49: Miscarcand

Chapter 49

Miscarcand

"I believe that Tari's vision foretells a blessing from the god of magic, Magnus," Moralasil stated.

From her seat at the head of the table, Perrif blinked curiously at Moralasil's pronouncement. Sitting on either side of her were Pelinal and Morihuas, the former of whom looked utterly bored and was paying no attention to the council, while the other gazed dutifully and silently at the blind elf. Many of Perrif's other advisors were in attendance as well, including Edanu, Dynar, some of her centurions… and of course, Tari and Telepe. Perrif had summoned them all when Moralasil had announced, quite suddenly, that he had finished meditating on the meaning of the vision that Tari had received from the Elder Scroll.

"You're certain?" Perrif asked, leaning forward slightly, her hands folded on the table in front of her.

"As certain as one can be, considering the cryptic nature of the Scrolls," Moralasil chuckled. "Consider the imagery of her vision. The sun has long been associated with Magnus himself – in fact, some priests believe that the sun is Magnus. Therefore, a ray falling from the sun suggests that he intends to intervene on Nirn, likely by sending a magical artifact to the surface of our world."

"Is that possible?" Edanu asked, frowning. "I thought the Aedra did not intervene in mortal affairs… usually," he added, giving Perrif a sidelong glance, which she answered with a slight smile.

"It is not as unusual as you may think," Moralasil smiled. "Varla and Welkynd Stones are fragments of Aetherius that have fallen to Nirn. So, yes, of course Magnus could reach down from Aetherius and do the same."

"And do you have any thoughts about the nature of this… intervention?" Perrif asked, pausing to glance sharply at Pelinal as the knight yawned openly and languidly.

"I do," Moralasil nodded. "There is one particular manifestation of Magnus' power that I believes matches Tari's vision."

"And that is?" Perrif prompted.

Moralasil smiled and sat back, folding his hands together. "The Staff of Magnus."

Soft whispers and murmurs fluttered around the table, some awestruck, and others confused. Perrif leaned forward slightly and raised a hand. "Forgive me, but what exactly is the Staff of Magnus?" she asked.

Moralasil nodded and sat back in his chair, tilting is chin back slightly so that his blank eyes were fixated upon the ceiling of the tent. "Long ago, Lorkhan tricked the gods – Magnus in particular – into creating our world, Nirn. The instrument that Magnus used to complete this task was a powerful staff, known as the Staff of Magnus. Priests of Magnus – myself included – have long revered the artifact as the single most powerful magical artifact that our god can bestow upon a mortal. It seems to control the flow of magicka itself, allowing one to absorb magic, protect oneself from hostile spells, and even absorb the lifeforce of living creatures." He lowered his head again and concluded, "To wield the Staff of Magnus is to hold a piece of the god himself."

"And you are certain that this staff is the subject of Tari's vision?" Perrif repeated.

"I can think of nothing else," Moralasil nodded. "A drop of sunlight sprouting into a white sapling? The former is Magnus' symbol, and the latter is very close to the most common description of Magnus' staff."

Morihaus and Perrif traded glances, and then Perrif nodded. "Very well. What do you make of the rest of her vision, then?"

"I believe that the rest of it was information regarding the time and place that the staff can be retrieved," Moralasil replied calmly. "In your previous vision, you were shown various Ayleid sites, were you not, Tari?" Moralasil asked gently.

"I… believe so, yes," Tari nodded tentatively.

"Then it stands to reason that the same logic applies here," Moralasil concluded.

"Then when and where will we find the staff?" Perrif pressed in a slightly impatient tone.

"The rest of Tari's vision provides the answer to that question," Moralasil replied placatingly. "First, we can determine the time based upon the moons that Tari saw. Secunda vanishing behind Masser is an event that does not happen frequently… though, admittedly, I cannot be certain if it shall happen during the day, or if the presence of the sun was simply meant to convey Magnus' role in this event."

Perrif frowned, then glanced at Morihaus. "Do we have a lunar calendar available?"

Morihaus repeated the request to one of the guards, who hurried off to ask the priests. The tent remained uncomfortably silent as some sipped their wine, while others simply stared off into the distance, awaiting the answer. When the hoplite returned, she quickly relayed, "According to their calendars, the priests believe that this event shall occur in a little over a month. Thirty-eight days, to be exact."

Perrif exhaled slowly, folding her hands in front of her tightly enough that her fingers turned white. "That does not give us much time," she murmured. "What of the location? You claimed it was an island near the White-Gold City?"

"Yes. I believe that I know the island that Tari mentioned, actually," Moralasil replied calmly. "It is an island famous among sorcerers for its trees, whose wood produces excellent staves." A faint smile spread across his face. "Fitting, I suppose, that the most powerful staff in existence should manifest there."

"Then we need only travel to this island and retrieve the staff before our enemies do?" Perrif asked.

"If only it were that simple," Moralasil sighed, shaking his head. "The island is presently within Meridia's barrier."

The men and women around the table began muttering and groaning, while Perrif closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Tari frowned and held up her hand. "If it's within the barrier, how could the staff appear on the island?" she asked. "Would the shield not prevent the staff from landing upon it?"

Moralasil smiled gently. "Meridia was once a daughter of Magnus. As such, her power is significantly dwarfed by his, a fact which I am certain infuriates her to no end. If Magnus wishes to ignore her barrier, he shall." His smile faded, however, as he added grimly, "Whether we can, however, is another matter."

"Then there is no way to retrieve the staff once it lands upon this island?" Perrif asked in a careful, measured tone as she opened her eyes again.

"Not necessarily," Moralasil replied, smiling once again. "Tari's vision included an upside-down bridge, did it not? It may be that there is some alternate way past the barrier. Perhaps it does not extend beneath the surface of Lake Rumare, or perhaps there's an aquatic bridge that connects the island to the mainland." He chuckled lightly and sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his slim stomach. "Fortunate indeed, then, that I have been teaching her how to breathe underwater, isn't it?"

"Quite," Perrif agreed shortly, sitting forward a bit. "And what of the rest of her vision?"

"I felt that was fairly straightforward, actually," Moralasil replied. "If we obtain the Staff of Magnus, we can use it to dispel the barrier protecting the White-Gold City. As I said, the Staff possesses remarkable abilities, including the ability to disrupt and absorb magicka. If the barrier is powered by Great Welkynd Stones, then we need only to turn the Staff upon the stones of each of the eight cities that are maintaining the barrier. That shall allow us to finally storm Umaril's stronghold. It may even win us the war outright if we succeed."

"And if we fail to retrieve it, we shall have no means of penetrating the barrier, allowing Umaril to continue summoning Daedra to add to his armies and ensuring our defeat," Tari added grimly.

"Well… we may yet find another way to shatter the Welkynd Stones," Moralasil pointed out. "However, this seems to be the most reliable and straightforward method, else the Scroll would have shown another way."

"Then it's become a race to obtain the staff first," Perrif said, a stony look of resolve settling over her face. "What is the quickest path to this island?"

"We should continue on in this direction. The island is to the east of the White-Gold City, deep in enemy territory. It would take us several days to circle back around Lake Rumare," Morihaus grunted, putting his hand on the map in the center of the table. "We would be showing our backs to the enemy, allowing them to constantly harass us. It would not be a poor idea to send a small force of perhaps a few centuries around in the opposite direction as a contingency. The main army, however, should press on as we have been. That shall also allow us to continue the campaign against Umaril, sacking the remaining cities under his control that still stand against us."

"I see. Then we shall proceed as we planned," Perrif nodded, leaning over the map as well. "So, now that Nonungalo and Talwinque have chosen to ally with us, our next targets shall be the cities of Silorn and Nornalhorst to the south. If we take those cities, we can then turn all of our attention to the east, where we can press on to the Niben and fully encircle Umaril and his allies on the banks of Lake Rumare."

Telepe, who had been silently listening the entire time, suddenly asked softly, "Nonungalo and Talwinque elected to join us?"

As Perrif glanced at him, he noticed a flash of concern flicker over her face before she regained her mask of serenity. "They did," she confirmed. "Nonungalo realized that they had more to gain by allying with us, and they shall be providing us with supplies, in exchange for our protection from Umaril's retribution – essentially, they shall provide us with goods so long as we act as a buffer state. Talwinque, on the other hand, was actually rather eager to join with us. Many of those that disagreed with the decision have already fled for Valenwood, as they feared we would sack their city as we did Lipsand Tarn." Telepe winced briefly at the mention of that city, but Perrif seemed not to notice. "The minority that remained were devout Aedra worshippers who were eager to join with us. Apparently, they suffered greatly after the Narfinsel Schism, and with their oppressors gone, they wish to enact vengeance upon other Daedra-worshippers instead."

"I see. Well done!" Telepe replied, inclining his head and smiling warmly at Perrif, even as his stomach twisted slightly. "So with our western flank secure, we can move south without any concerns."

"Quite," Perrif agreed, returning his smile, but also giving him a mildly concerned look, before turning back to the rest of her council. "Edanu, King Vrage? I'd like you to ensure that your men are prepared to march the day after tomorrow."

"Naturally," Vrage replied easily, while Edanu inclined his head sharply in agreement.

"Also, while we have the opportunity, I would also like to verify that Ceya-Tar is not in any danger of an attack from the east," Perrif added. "I know that it was a weak link when we first conquered it, and I wish to ensure that it is has not been threatened by Umaril's forces."

"Then I shall assign one of my best centurions to see to it," Edanu stated. "Orina, perhaps, or Teo."

"I would like to accompany them," Tari added quickly. Perrif glanced at her as she explained, "If we intend to chase the Staff of Magnus, then I want to see if my mistress knows anything about it. Perhaps she left notes behind, or mentioned it in her writings." When Perrif continued to stare at her, Tari sighed. "When we were attacked in the canticle grove, we were uncertain if any of Umaril's scouts escaped to tell Umaril about my vision. If they successfully returned and told our enemies of my vision, then I would like to know what my mistress knows of the Staff, and how she might prepare for our arrival."

Perrif hesitated, and Telepe could almost see her weighing whether or not to allow her. Ceya-Tar was Tari's home, and she would know it better than almost anyone else in her army. Furthermore, there was little reason to keep her with the army at the moment, since as long as she was blind, she couldn't serve as a battlemage.

"Very well," Perrif agreed slowly. "However… Edanu, while she sees to her task, please assign two additional centuries to accompany her."

Telepe smiled to himself as he saw Tari pout slightly at the additional protection, though she didn't protest. Moralasil, meanwhile, held his hand up and added, "I shall accompany her as well. Arcanalata is my former apprentice, so I am also curious about how much she knows. I may also be of some assistance to Tari if she encounters any information she cannot understand." He smiled slightly, then added, "And there are still a few more spells I wish to teach her while we have the opportunity."

"As you wish," Perrif nodded.

"Also," Moralasil added quickly, pausing for a moment until he was certain that he had Perrif's undivided attention. "It seems that this vision given to Tari suggests that Magnus is indeed favoring the rebellion. To that end, might I propose that we once again consider making him part of our pantheon?"

Perrif hesitated, glancing away for a moment, and then she replied slowly, "If Magnus was giving us his staff freely as a sign of his favor, then I would agree with you. Instead, Tari's vision suggests that he has chosen to manifest his staff in a location that might be considered neutral at best, and favoring the Ayleids at worst. If the staff does indeed appear on this island, it will take a great deal of effort to retrieve it from Meridia's barrier. Short of placing it directly in Umaril's hands, it could not be in a much poorer location."

"Yes, but he did not need to provide us with this vision at all," Moralasil pointed out.

Perrif shook her head. "The Scrolls provided us with the vision, not Magnus." Before the priest could argue further, she held up a hand. "Let us discuss this later. Our Nordic and Ayleid allies only just agreed – begrudgingly, I might add – that Akatosh should be considered the head of this new pantheon, and both still favor other gods to comprise the rest of it. Magnus is a controversial choice at best, and not one to be immediately admitted because of one favorable omen." When Moralasil's blank eyes stared in her direction silently, she added, "You have my word, we shall debate the merits of his inclusion later."

"…Very well," Moralasil murmured reluctantly.

Perrif smiled faintly, then abruptly turned to Telepe. "As for you, Telepe, I would like for you to ride to the city of Miscarcand."

Telepe stiffened slightly and swallowed as he felt his stomach starting to churn with anxiety. "To what end?" he asked cautiously.

"Miscarcand is a kingdom that could pose a serious threat to our campaign, perhaps more so than any other kingdom that we have yet encountered," Perrif explained as she sat back in her chair. "They are also far enough from the White-Gold City that it is unlikely that Umaril has approached them. Therefore, I would like for you to approach their king and at least ensure his neutrality. If you can secure his allegiance, so much the better."

Telepe felt his stomach roiling at that, but he forced himself to take a long, slow breath before nodding to her. "As you say, my lady," he replied softly.

Perrif once again shot him a curious look, but when he held her gaze, she nodded to herself, seeming satisfied. "I shall have Pasare, Reili, and a score of knights accompany you," she continued. "Speed is paramount, so I wish for you to ride for the city with all haste."

"I would like to accompany Telepe as well," Prince Dynar chimed in, flashing him a quick smile. "Miscarcand's king may be unused to speaking with humans, so having an Ayleid ally to speak on our behalf would bolster our chances of swaying them to our cause, if necessary. Besides… it's been a while since we've had the chance to travel together," he added, his smile broadening into a grin.

"I… would be rather grateful for your company, actually," Telepe agreed, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"Then that's settled," Perrif nodded. "There is a captain from Telwinque who can see to our Ayleid cavalry in your absence, Prince Dynar. Are there any other questions?" When there were murmurs to the negative, she nodded and stated, "Then that concludes this meeting. Thank you all for your attention."

Telepe slowly pushed himself up from his seat, but paused when he felt Tari grip his wrist. He glanced down into her milky green eyes as she scowled up at him. "I'm worried," she murmured.

"Well… it is the first time we've been apart in months," Telepe agreed with a soft chuckle, before leaning down to kiss her forehead affectionately.

Tari scowled and lightly batted him away by waving her arms in front of her face. "Besides that!" she growled. "You've been out of sorts for days now. Will you be alright?"

Telepe's smile faded, and he glanced away with a soft sigh. "I've… simply been dwelling upon my diplomatic failures, far more than I should have," he murmured. "I'll confess that my inability to sway the other kingdoms recently has been troubling me." He then turned back to her and added, "However, that simply means that I need to work harder to ensure that I don't continue to fail. One will never succeed if they refuse to act, after all."

"Well said," another voice said, and Telepe turned to see Perrif standing a short distance away, smiling with approval. "I had feared that you were still brooding, but it seems that you are approaching this with the proper attitude."

"Yes, well… brooding will only make me less effective as an emissary," Telepe replied, embarrassed. He then inclined his head. "You have my apologies for both my recent failures, and my poor reaction to them."

Perrif shook her head, then stepped a little closer and put her hands on Telepe's shoulders. "I cannot ask you, nor expect you, to succeed in every negotiation, Telepe," she said softly. "But I also would not assign you these tasks if I expected you to fail. I am sending you to Miscarcand now because I trust no other with this vital task." She squeezed his shoulders firmly. "Please know that when you negotiate on our behalf, you do so with my full confidence and my trust. Your voice is my voice, and whatever course you choose to pursue, you have my support."

Telepe felt a swell of warm gratitude rising in his chest as Perrif smiled up at him, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I… thank you," he murmured, inclining his head towards her. "I shall do all that I can, then, to ensure that I don't disappoint you."

"I'm certain that you won't," Perrif replied with a confident nod. She gave his shoulders another light squeeze, then released them and turned to Dynar. "Watch over and protect each other. Even though you are traveling away from Umaril's lines, there is no guarantee that you won't be pursued by his men. Fight only if you must; I would much rather you flee, which is why I am asking only those skilled in riding to accompany you."

"Even Pasare?" Telepe asked wryly.

Perrif smiled slightly up at him. "She can ride. She simply dislikes it." Her smile faded again, and a more serious expression settled over her face. "Once your task is finished, send a falcon to inform us, and we shall tell you our location so you can meet us there. I suspect that we should be at either Silorn or Nornalhurst by the time you've finished speaking with the King of Miscarcand. Expect to meet us at one of those two cities."

"As you say," Telepe replied, inclining his head. Dynar did the same, and Perrif gave them both a brief smile before slipping past them and exiting the tent.

Tari, who had been listening intently to the conversation with her head cocked, stepped forward and felt around until she could place her hand gently on Telepe's cheek. "Are you certain this is wise?" she asked quietly. "You still don't feel you'll succeed, do you? I know you too well to be fooled by a few honeyed words."

Telepe chuckled gently and shook his head. "In truth, I doubt Perrif is fooled either," he admitted with a reluctant grin. "Regardless, I must go to speak with the King of Miscarcand. Umaril won't grant us the luxury of waiting until I feel that I'm ready to speak with him. And what else am I supposed to do? Simply refuse to conduct negotiations because I've had a few recent failures? No." He smiled gently and cupped Tari's chin affectionately. "Thank you for your concern, but this is something I can only accomplish on my own. So please, don't fret about me," he added, leaning down and kissing her forehead gently. "Now, will you be alright, returning to Ceya-Tar?"

"In truth, I'd rather you were with me," she admitted with a shy smile.

"As would I," Telepe agreed, brushing her cheek gently with his thumb. "But our paths can't always run parallel. And we'll be together once more soon enough."

"So I hope," Tari murmured, before pushing herself up onto her toes and pressing her lips firmly against his.

---

As Telepe and the small group escorting him traveled deeper into western Cyrod, he notice that the trees around them were quickly becoming sparse. They were never out of sight of one of the swaying palms or drooping willows, but they were no longer enveloped by a green canopy that blotted out the sky. The ground was also firmer and drier, with grasses and flowers gradually replacing the ferns and vines that had sprawled across the jungle floor of the Niben basin.

Out of all of the group, Pasare seemed to be the most at ease. Dynar was much more familiar with the vast Niben River, and Reili had grown up riding across the arid desert, while the rest of the group had mostly spent their lives as slaves in northern and eastern Cyrod. Pasare, however, was happily leading them through territory that was as familiar to her as the Great Forest was to Tari. While she'd always had confidence in her scouting and tracking skills, she now walked with the grace and ease of a noble strolling through their personal gardens.

When Telepe conversationally mentioned that she seemed to be enjoying herself, she flashed a grin at him. "In truth, I've missed my homeland more than I realized," she explained, inhaling deeply as she gazed up towards the midday sun, shielding her eyes with one hand. "Especially the wilderness. Much like Tari, I preferred to spend as much time as possible outside of Silorn."

"Then… if we needed to sack it…?" Telepe asked slowly.

Pasare glanced over her shoulder and smiled faintly. "I would understand the necessity," she replied evasively. "However, I honestly don't believe we will need to engage them. For one, Silorn's warriors are excellent, and they could give us a great deal of trouble, especially since they favor archers, while we rely upon the phalanx. I've little doubt we would defeat them eventually, but we would do so at a heavy cost. Thus, it is in both of our interests to negotiate rather than fight." She glanced away for a moment, peering at a shape prowling behind a rock in the distance, but then she shook her head and waved dismissively. "Panther. In any case, I feel Silorn would be open to diplomacy anyways. While our masters weren't kind, exactly, they also were not the depraved monsters you encountered in the Niben Basin. They trained us slaves to fight and hunt alongside them, and they placed a great deal of trust in us. I believe they would be able to accept our emancipation more easily than most kingdoms, and may even be willing to ally with us, so long as we, in turn, provide aid in fending off cat-men raids from the south."

Telepe blinked at Pasare in surprise, then chuckled and inclined his head. "I'll certainly keep that in mind if we decide to negotiate with them, then," he replied.

Pasare flashed a grin up at him. "I would prefer that," she admitted. "While I'm glad to be free, I don't hold any particular malice towards my former home, and I did have friends there, both man and mer alike. It would be a travesty if we were forced to slay them."

"It always is," Telepe agreed solemnly.

Pasare first led the small group due south, passing almost in a straight line over rough terrain and past low but steep hills. The horses occasionally had trouble finding their footing in the untamed wilderness, and even Emero, whom Telepe had come to rely upon for his sure-footedness, occasionally stumbled. However, it wasn't nearly as difficult – nor as treacherous – as their journey through the mountains, and as they didn't have to keep pace with infantrymen, they were able to maintain a swift pace through the hinterlands.

Most beasts that they encountered gave them a wide berth, not having any desire to attack the heavily-armed group. Only once did they encounter a true threat. As they passed by a small cave, one of the horses suddenly reared up and screamed in fear. Telepe whipped his head around to see a crude arrow sticking out of a tree, just in front of the horse's face. He supposed that it had only barely missed the beast. Before he had time to wonder what had happened, however, a dozen small creatures with hideous faces and rough, green skin swarmed out of the bushes towards them.

While Telepe was reaching for his sword, Reili shouted for them to avoid fighting and instead ride on. He then bolted past Telepe, charging for a gap in the circle of goblins closing in on them. Telepe immediately spurred Emero after him, and the rest of the riders quickly followed suit. Before the goblins could envelop them, everyone had managed to ride out of the encroaching circle. Once they were free, Telepe slowed Emero to a walk and gazed over his shoulder at the furious goblins, who were screaming and waving crude stone weapons at them. While he doubted that the beasts could have slaughtered a score of heavily armed cavalrymen, they might have inflicted some casualties if they had lingered. Thank the gods Reili kept his wits about him, Telepe thought, before nudging Emero after the others and leaving the shrieking goblins behind.

After traveling south for another day, they finally reached a winding dirt road, which stretched both east and west. Pasare grinned when she saw it, but Telepe was more cautious.

"Are you certain we should be using the road so openly?" Telepe asked hesitantly, eyeing the road as though it was a river of poison. "What if Umaril has sent scouts this way? And even if he didn't, what about the other kingdoms?"

"This far west? It's unlikely," Pasare replied confidently.

"Besides, I doubt that Umaril would expend the resources pursuing us right now," Dynar remarked." While you and I might be valuable prizes, he would be better served focusing his attention upon the army, which currently has Pelinal, Morihaus, and the Paravant herself. We are, at best, of secondary importance." The prince chuckled lightly and ran his hand over the back of his head. "I almost feel that I should be insulted."

"Not to mention, we have the advantage of speed on this road," Reili chimed in thoughtfully. "On horseback, the only ones that could match our pace would be a force equal to or smaller than us. If they're smaller, we can best them in combat, and if they're larger, we can simply outrun them."

"So then there's no danger in using the road," Telepe concluded drily, raising an eyebrow at his grinning companions. "Thank you for clarifying that."

"We simply wish to assuage your concerns, my lord," Pasare replied with a mocking bow.

"Very good. Now, fetch me some grapes," Telepe demanded with a dismissive wave of his hand. He then grinned as the others broke out laughing.

Once on the road, they were able to travel several miles each day. They did frequently encounter other travelers, but they were mostly farmers delivering produce, merchants hauling goods, and occasionally slavers transporting human men and women to or from the Nibenay Valley. Whenever they encountered the latter, Telepe could tell that most of his companions were barely restraining themselves from attacking the slavers and freeing the slaves. Telepe sympathized, but they couldn't risk their mission for the sake of freeing one or two slaves. Besides, if they were successful, those slaves would have their freedom soon anyways.

The journey along the highway was actually rather pleasant, with only one day of moderate rain slowing their progress. They had little difficulty finding safe campsites a short distance off the road, as the rolling cliffs and plateaus provided excellent vantage points where they could watch for anything hostile approaching them. Food was also plentiful, and they were able to live comfortably off the land, scavenging fruits and nuts from the nearby trees. Telepe almost found himself wishing that his father had sent him to negotiate with the western kingdoms rather than the much more savage Ayleids of eastern Cyrod.

Finally, shortly before midday on their fourth day of travel along the highway, Pasare brought them up short and pointed at something in the distance. "There!" she announced, grinning broadly.

Telepe gazed in the direction that she was pointing, and his eyes widened at the city looming in the distance. Before he had come to Cyrod, he had been told that there were three kingdoms that reigned above all others – The White-Gold City, the shining jewel of central Cyrod; Garlas Malatar, the great port city on the western coast; and Miscaracand, the crossroads of the east and west. Situated just off the highway that extended all the way from the Gold Coast to the White-Gold City, Miscarcand was in the perfect position to control trade between the two halves of Cyrod, and to benefit from the flow of goods that traveled overland between the Niben River to the Abecean Sea.

As such, over the years, Miscarcand had grown into a sprawling metropolis, somewhat smaller than the White-Gold City, but still large enough to dominate their view of the western horizon. From where they were standing, Telepe could make out a large, circular outer wall made of marble, upon which patrolled at least ten Ayleid warriors clad in bronze armor. He also noticed that unlike the elves they had seen recently, these guards did not seem to be particularly tense, indicating that Miscarcand's power was such that they had little to fear, even from the advancing war. Their indifference made the city that much more impressive and intimidating.

Telepe could feel his heart starting to pound, and he took a slow breath to calm his nerves. There was no sense in becoming anxious when he hadn't even met the king yet, he sternly told himself. Squaring his shoulders, he nudged Emero forward and led the way down the road towards the looming bronze gates of Miscarcand.

The guards on the walls noted their approach, but none bothered to draw their weapons. One, who was standing above the gatehouse, called down in an almost bored tone, "State your business."

"I am Telepe, an emissary from the Nedic rebellion," he called back up. "I have come to speak with your king."

The guards traded bemused looks. "Bold of you to announce yourself as such," another one of the guards remarked. "We could have you killed for that claim."

"You could. Yet we're civilized, are we not?" Telepe replied smoothly. "What harm is there in allowing me to deliver a message to your king? We pose no threat, and you mer seem more than capable of defending him from our paltry party anyways."

The warriors traded glances with each other, and then one of them shrugged. "Very well. You're fortunate that our king does not have any pressing business today, else we wouldn't bother," a female Ayleid called down to them. "We'll open the gates for you. Keep your hands in view."

Telepe let out a soft sigh of relief as the gates slowly swung open, allowing them their first glimpse at the city beyond. As was the case with most Ayleid cities, the majority of the buildings were constructed out of white marble, though Telepe noted that there were fewer buildings made of wood than in the eastern cities. Trees were not exactly scarce in this part of Cyrod, but Telepe supposed that there was an abundance of stone that simply made building with it preferable, while reserving the trees for firewood and tools.

The city was laid out like a large wheel, not unlike the White-Gold City, with the front gate leading directly to the main bazaar, where colorful stalls and tents lined the city streets. In a strange way, it was almost nostalgic for Telepe. It was so much like when he had first set foot in the White-Gold City several months ago, when he had been dazzled by how exotic Ayleid culture had seemed. Though the elegant arches, the gleaming Welkynd stone decorations, the marble statues, and the strutting warriors clad in bronze armor were all now quite familiar to him, stepping through the gates of Miscarcand for a brief moment reminded him of the wonder he had felt when he had first arrived in Cyrod.

Then, a moment later, he spotted an Ayleid noble yanking a Nedic man behind her by his shackled wrists, and instantly, his nostalgic sense of wonder vanished, replaced with a cold sense of duty. It was a staunch reminder of why he had come to Miscarcand… and why he could not afford to fail in these negotiations. The sight of the poor man was the impetus that he needed to clear away his last lingering doubts about meeting with the king. He had to succeed – not for his sake, but for theirs.

The Ayleid who had chosen to escort them stopped and glanced over her shoulder, puzzled and annoyed by Telepe's brief pause in the gateway. Telepe smiled tightly at her and inclined his head in apology, motioning for her to lead the way. The mer sighed softlyand motioned impatiently for them to follow, and as she trudged deeper into the city, Telepe overheard her mutter under her breath about human imbeciles.

The guard led them swiftly through the city streets, brushing her way past nobles and commoners alike, many of whom stopped to stare at the human entourage. Some muttered about their bronze armor and weapons, while others simply glared at them. None interfered, however, and Telepe did notice that aside from some grumbling, the population didn't seem overtly hostile. The slaves also seemed to be little less than unpaid laborers, and while some bore marks of abuse, there was no sign that they were being subjected to fantastical, sadistic tortures. It gave Telepe yet more hope that this kingdom could indeed be reasoned with.

At the top of a hill sat the kingdom's palace. In the front of the building stood a statue of a swooping bronze eagle, flanked on either side by high walls and guard towers. Behind the statue lay a short staircase that led to an elegant tower, guarded by yet more Ayleids. Their escort paused and pointed to the tower.

"There lies the entrance to the subterranean section of the city," she explained. "Please wait here while I see if the king is below-ground."

Telepe inclined his head compliantly, and the guard hurried off to disappear into the tower. Behind it, he could see a large, rectangular structure that he presumed was the above-ground section of the palace. It was larger and more ornate than almost any other palace he had yet witnessed, with sweeping marble columns and a roof adorned with an ornate fresco of Ayleid warriors chasing off hordes of heavyset green figures – orcs or goblins, Telepe supposed. Behind them cowered pale, naked figures bound in chains, gazing adoringly up at their bronze-skinned masters. Telepe scoffed under his breath and glanced away, turning back to their escort as she approached.

"It would seem that our king is in court. Come," she said curtly, motioning for them to follow.

"Does the king spend much of his time below-ground?" Telepe asked, partially conversationally, but partially to glean any information he could about the ruler of Miscarcand before he actually met them.

The Ayleid warrior glanced over her shoulder, frowning suspiciously, but she eventually replied, "Our liege is one of the most powerful sorcerer-kings in all of Cyrod. He is rivalled only by Gorihaus the Shaper and perhaps a select few others. Magic came swiftly to him at a young age, and he now spends much of his time experimenting with Welkynd-magic. Some say that he has even found a way to extend his life and cheat death… though even if he hasn't, you'll be long dead before you'd know either way," she said with a sneering smirk.

"Quite," Telepe replied nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the barb that the guard had thrown at him. "I'm certain that either way, your king shall have a long and glorious reign. The prosperity that he's brought to Miscarcand is nothing short of spectacular, and the longer that he sits upon the throne, the better it shall be for his people, mm? I simply hope we can come to an equitable arrangement that ensures your kingdom continues to flourish in spite of the upheaval in the east."

The elf's smug smirk vanished immediately at Telepe's measured response. She seemed disappointed, almost frustrated even, as she turned back around and led them silently up the stairs of the palace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dynar grinning at him, and when he caught Telepe's eye, he gave a slight nod of approval at how easily he had disarmed the guard. Telepe replied with a wink, though his own expression was more stoic. Outfoxing a guard was no great challenge. It would be far more impressive if he could do the same to Miscarcand's king.

The warriors standing guard in front of the palace pulled open the heavy wooden doors as the humans approached, and Telepe allowed himself to be ushered into the throne room of Miscarcand. A long grey rug stretched across the gleaming marble floor, and brilliant white Varla Stones – rather than the more common green Welkynd Stones – illuminated the hall with a pristine glow. Eight thick, marble pillars held the roof aloft, each one flanked by an Ayleid warrior dressed in ceremonial but functional bronze armor.

At the end of the hall, slouching on a cold marble throne without any cushions, sat the King of Miscarcand. He wore a set of thick red robes trimmed with gold – strikingly similar to the set that Perrif wore as her formal garments – and a feather-patterned helm covered his head. One hand clutched a gnarled rowan staff, while the other gripped a spherical Welkynd Stone. His sharp blue eyes fell on the small group as they approached him, and as Telepe dropped into a courteous bow, he tilted his head upwards imperiously.

"To His Majesty, the King of Miscarcand, I present the emissary of…." The Ayleid warrior paused, giving Telepe a sidelong glance.

"The army of the Paravant," Telepe finished, folding his hands behind his back. "Well met, Your Majesty. It is an honor to stand in your presence, and I am humbled that you have granted us a few moments of your time."

"Yes, and that time is valuable," the king replied coldly, though he motioned to a couple of slaves to step forward and provide Telepe with refreshments. "Speak quickly. Why have you come before me?"

Telepe smiled warmly at the slaves who approached him – a tall woman, apparently of Nordic descent, accompanied by a boy of about ten years. He reached for the goblet of wine she was offering, but then froze and took a second, harder look at the woman. Her hair seemed to be red… or perhaps brown? Copper, even…?

"Do you mistrust my wine?" the king sharply demanded from his throne. "I can assure you, you do not threaten us enough for me to bother poisoning you."

"No! No, no, my apologies, Your Majesty," Telepe said quickly, taking the goblet and raising it to his lips. "Thank you for your hospitality. I meant no offense. I was… simply remembering something."

The king stared at him coldly. "State your business, or begone," he snapped.

Telepe took one more slow drink of the wine to steady himself, and then he exhaled and squared his shoulders. "In the past several months, the human uprising led by the woman who calls herself, variously, the Paravant and Al-Esh, has spread throughout the Nibenay Valley. It has liberated tens of thousands of slaves and has grown into a movement that is now sweeping through Cyrod as inexorably as a flood."

"So I've heard. Yet a flood can be diverted, or even dammed," the king retorted coldly. "And from what I hear, Umaril Many-Feathers is in the process of doing so."

"He is attempting to do so, but has had little success," Telepe replied. "Even as we speak, the rebels are marching south. Five more cities having fallen or capitulated in the past few weeks."

"Have you simply come to deliver news from the Niben Valley, emissary?" the king snarled, leaning forward on his throne.

"Not at all. I have come to deliver an opportunity. Because with that tide has also come an unprecedented wave of prosperity in the Nibenay Valley. One that we wish to discuss sharing with you," Telepe continued.

The king glanced at a silver-robed Ayleid standing beside him, raising an eyebrow. The elf nodded faintly, and the king turned back to snarl, "Explain."

"The domains now under the Paravant's control extend from the southern Niben River up to the borders of Skyrim," Telepe continued. "She commands a territory of unprecedented size in Cyrod, and it is not an exaggeration to say that she controls all trade in the eastern region as well. You, Your Majesty, control the flow of trade from the west. Thus, it is in our mutual interest to establish a trading pact between your kingdom and the Paravant's realm."

"Indeed? And in doing so, declare ourselves enemies of Umaril?" the king asked coolly. "Declare ourselves traitors to all of the Ayleid realms in Cyrod?"

"Umaril? A champion who never rises from his throne?" Telepe scoffed. "He claims to command the Ayleid counterattack against the uprising, yet has not even seen fit to show his face on the battlefield. Nor has he scored even a single major victory against the rebellion. What do you have to fear from him?"

"It is not he that we should fear, but his mistress," the king replied coolly, motioning to a marble statue beside his throne. It depicted a beautiful elven woman dressed in flowing white robes, with a pair of outstretched wings erupting from her back, and her hands raised, demanding supplication.. "One does not lightly invite the ire of Lady Meridia. Especially when one of her major shrines lies within our domain."

Telepe hesitated. The king was retreating into dangerous territory where he didn't dare follow. He had been in Cyrod long enough to know how fervently the Ayleids venerated the Daedra, especially Meridia, and he wouldn't dare suggest that the king could casually turn against her. Taking a slow breath, he decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"We're not asking you to fight alongside us," Telepe said, shifting his weight to his back foot to try and appear less threatening. "We only want to ensure that you won't fight against us. If you wish to remain neutral, to have nothing to do with us, we can accept that. Establishing a trading pact simply helps to strengthen our mutual commitment to non-violence, especially since we both have more to gain through peaceful coexistence than warfare. If you feel that threatens your standing with the other kingdoms and with Meridia, though, we understand. Though… it shall be as difficult for you to transport goods to the Niben as it shall be for us to send them to the Abecean."

The king's eyes widened with fury. "You would embargo us?" he asked with a snarl. "If you cannot wage war on us with blades and spears, you would do so with trade?"

"Would you allow our goods west if we did not establish a trading pact? To use your roads and run our caravans through your territory without your permission?" Telepe countered coolly. The king was trying to browbeat him into submission, and he wasn't going to bend.

The king paused, and seeming to realize that he'd overplayed his hand, inclined his head before settling back onto his throne, folding his hands over his stomach. "Thus far you and your rebellion have conquered all in your path and assimilated them into this growing empire of yours," he stated. "How can we be certain you would not try to do the same with us?"

"Any kingdom that has asked to remain neutral, we have respected," Telepe replied smoothly.

"Ah, yet many now lie within your territory. You have conquered the lands around them, and thus left them at your mercy anyways, have you not?" the king asked. "Who's to say that you won't do the same with us?"

Telepe considered the question for a few long moments, privately admitting that the king had a good point. Even if kingdoms had declared themselves neutral, the rebellion had simply moved past them and defeated their neighbors, essentially isolating them and forcing them to rely upon the rebels' magnanimity to allow their caravans to pass through their lands. Even though the rebels had respected the neutral Ayleids' sovereignty thus far, it must undoubtedly be terrifying to be rendered isolated and left at the mercy of the rebels, some of whom would certainly be happy to raze even the friendly Ayleid kingdoms to the ground.

"Your Majesty, Miscarcand is not only one of the greatest cities in Cyrod, it is also the gateway to the west," Telepe replied, tilting his head back slightly. "If we were to attack you, I believe that you would have the strength to resist us. And even if your kingdom were to fall, it would rouse the fear and ire of all of the other western kingdoms. Your defeat would send shockwaves through the west, and I've little doubt that such a monumental event would convince the other western kingdoms to unite and march against the rebellion. At best, the rebels would be forced to fight a war against dozens of hostile city-states across a vast swath of Cyrod – at least as large as the territory the Nedes have already conquered – and at worst, they would be forced to fight a war on two fronts. It is in the rebellion's best interest to secure peace with you, if not your friendship."

The king considered him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Then you understand that you must negotiate with us," he concluded.

"I understand that we must make concessions if we are to reach an equitable compromise," Telepe replied firmly. "And concessions must be made on both sides if these negotiations are to be successful."

The king quirked his mouth, then inclined his head. "Very well. Your first desire, then, is to ensure that trade flows from the west to your territory, correct?"

"We do," Telepe replied, folding his hands behind his back once again. "And in return, we'll ensure that goods from the east continue to pass through your borders. We can discuss tariffs in greater detail when we finalize this treaty."

"As you say," the king agreed, seeming pleased with the mention of additional taxes that he could exploit. "We also want your pledge that you shall not encroach upon our borders."

Telepe tilted his head slightly. "We would respect your sovereignty, of course, but how far would you claim that your borders extend?"

The king considered the question silently for a moment, then replied slowly, "Fifty miles. You must pledge that you shall not settle any of your people within fifty miles of Miscarcand, or we shall consider that an invasion of our territory and respond appropriately."

Telepe chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered the proposition. If he agreed, it meant surrendering control of the western highway to Miscarcand. It would also check their future growth, as the treaty would ensure that the rebellion's territory was limited to the Niben Valley alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the slaves crouching by the throne, watching their king warily for any other commands. He suddenly realized that he wasn't thinking about this properly. The rebellion wasn't aiming to simply conquer Ayleid kingdoms. It was started to liberate slaves. Certainly, they would sack and assimilate if necessary, but the ultimate goal was to ensure freedom for every human in Cyrod. So long as that was accomplished, he suspected that Perrif would be content ruling nothing. So, as long as the true goal of the rebellion was met….

"We can agree to the stipulation that no citizen of the Paravant's 'empire,' as you put it, shall found a holding near Miscarcand in the name of the Paravant," Telepe replied, carefully wording his response. The king's eyebrow twitched, suggesting he had noticed his specific language as well, but said nothing. "In exchange, however, we must make a demand of our own."

"Which is?" the king asked sharply.

Telepe smiled faintly. "In exchange, you must liberate every slave within Miscarcand."

The king's eyes widened with fury, and the staff in his hand crackled with electricity. "You dare…?" he whispered.

"You wish to avoid conflict with the rebellion, yes?" Telepe asked quickly, before the king could rise from his throne. "The rebellion seeks to end slavery throughout Cyrod. Thus, if you abolish slavery in your kingdom, the rebellion has no reason to seek war with you."

"You would destroy our economy! Our very way of life!" the king cried, his eyes wide with fury. "There are thousands of slaves within Miscarcand! If I were to declare them free, I would face an uprising from my own people!"

"Truly? And how many slaves are there for every citizen in your city?" Telepe asked.

The king hesitated, then turned to his advisor. They had a low discussion, and then the king shook his head. "That is irrelevant," he stated stubbornly.

"Is it? Because it seems to me that your slaves vastly outnumber your elvish population," Telepe pointed out.

"You have no proof-" the king began.

"In nearly every city that I have visited, slaves tended to outnumber their masters by about four to one. In some cases, it may have been as high as nine or ten to one," Telepe stated. "If you truly fear an uprising, it is in your best interest to ensure that the slaves within your domain lack a reason to turn against you. I've little doubt that stories of the rebellion have already reached the ears of your slaves – and if they haven't, they soon will. They'll wonder why they, too, have yet to be freed from chains. And soon, they'll decide to seize freedom themselves. I've seen it many times."

"Do not threaten me, boy," the king warned.

"I'm not threatening you. I'm attempting to help you avert a disaster," Telepe replied calmly. "Abolishing slavery shall not cripple your economy as you might think. Your slaves will remain your citizens. Nearly all shall continue to work on your behalf, as most have little desire to seek their fortunes in as harsh and unforgiving a realm as Cyrod. In fact, the boon of freedom shall encourage them to serve you, not out of fear, but out of gratitude and loyalty. You must provide them equal freedom under the law, true, and they must be free to pursue their own paths. But, in truth, I've found that cities actually experience greater prosperity after their populations have been liberated." That last part, Telepe was exaggerating – some did, but many were, in fact, experiencing economic difficulty. Even so, he wasn't strictly lying when he claimed that certain cities were better off with free populations.

The Ayleid king set his jaw as Telepe held his gaze stoically. He sat back in his throne, gripping the Welkynd Stone tightly. He then leaned over to his advisor and whispered to him in a hushed tone. Their conversation lasted for several long moments while Telepe waited, outwardly patient, but inwardly fretting, with his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Finally, the king pulled away and turned back to Telepe.

"In a kingdom as large and powerful as Miscarcand, even I cannot simply wave my hand and free every slave in my domain," the king stated. "My people would not stand for it, and my treasury could not endure it. If we accept these terms, you must permit us some time to ready ourselves for the abolition of slavery."

Telepe hesitated. No other kingdom had been granted such a reprieve – it was expected that they would free their slaves immediately. If he allowed this now, it might set a precedent that could allow other kingdoms to make similar demands. Even those that had already freed their slaves might protest and attempt to reinstate slavery on similar grounds. Yet… Miscarcand was a vital city. Could he really refuse to deny their request, if it risked ending talks with them altogether? "And how much time do you feel that you would require?" he asked cautiously.

"Grant us… five years to prepare ourselves," the king replied.

Telepe narrowed his eyes. "One."

"Four."

"Two. No more," Telepe finished.

The king seemed to be on the verge of protesting, but when Telepe raised his head slightly, the king exhaled slowly and relented, nodding his head. "Very well. Two years," he agreed reluctantly. "Only so long as trade with your Paravant proves profitable enough to offset our losses and increase our prosperity, however. I am taking a great risk in agreeing to this."

Telepe exhaled softly, almost in disbelief, as his heart leapt with joy. He quickly brought his emotions under control to avoid letting them show on his face, as he inclined his head. "Very good, Your Majesty," he replied. His gaze wandered from the king to his advisor, and then to the guards around the hall, none of whom were looking at him. And then he again noticed the mother and child crouching near the throne. His elation evaporated, and he considered them for a long moment, before a thought struck him.

"Your Majesty," Telepe said, drawing the king's attention back to him. "If you are truly committed to the liberation of your people, might I ask for a gesture to prove your intentions?"

The king's eyes widened with rage, and the advisor glared at him. Both seemed insulted by his insinuation that they weren't going to uphold their end of the bargain. "What sort of gesture?" the king growled.

"Simply free one or two of your people, here," Telepe suggested. He glanced at the two slaves, then motioned to them. "That woman and her family, for instance. Shouldn't a king be served by proper citizens, not lowly slaves?"

The king stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the Nordic woman and her child, both of whom flinched away from him. He glanced back at Telepe, then sighed and held his hand up. "Very well. By our decree, you and your children are hereby freed from your status as slaves of Miscarcand."

The woman's eyes widened as the king motioned for his guards, and one of them stepped forward with a bronze key. He grabbed the woman and unlocked her chains, which fell to the marble ground with a deafening clanging sound, and then did the same to her son. The woman stared down at her wrists and rubbed her neck in disbelief, and then she looked up at Telepe. She ran towards him and clutched his tunic, tears streaming down her face.

"Th… thank you!" she whispered. "I… how do… how can I repay you?!"

"Simply answer me one question," Telepe said softly, hoping that his suspicion was correct. If not, he was still pleased to have helped a family, but if so…. "Does the name Golbrom mean anything to you?"

The woman jerked her head as though she had been slapped. Her mouth fell open, and she whispered, "That's… he's my husband!"

A bitter smile flitted across Telepe's lips as he nodded. "I see. Your name is Gisla, right?" When the woman nodded furiously, Telepe smiled. "It's wonderful to meet you. I knew your husband well. He was a companion of mine. He protected me and saved my life more than once."

Gisla's eyes widened. "Was?" she whispered.

Telepe exhaled slowly, feeling his stomach turn in knots. "I'm afraid that he lost his life fighting for your freedom."

Telepe winced as Gisla's eyes filled with tears, but to her credit, she didn't begin sobbing. She looked away for a few moments, then took a few deep, shuddering breaths and turned back around. "Did he die with honor?" she whispered.

"Yes," Telepe nodded, without hesitation. "In battle, slaying as many enemies as he could."

"Good. Good," Gisla murmured, somehow seeming satisfied, if still grief-stricken. "Then his soul feasts in Sovngarde. There is no more fitting end for a Nord, and Shor willing, one day I and my children shall join him."

"He was a valiant warrior, and the world is darker for his loss," Telepe replied softly. "Before he died, he made me swear to find you and free you."

Gisla's eyes widened, and then she smiled and put her hands on his shoulders. "Then your oath is fulfilled, and my husband can rest easy. Thank you." Her eyes flickered to his ears, and she added, "I would not have expected such honor from an elf. Many of my own people would not have gone to the lengths you did to fulfill my husband's request. You… despite your elven blood, you have the spirit of our finest warriors."

Despite himself, Shea felt a swell of pride rise in his chest – the first time he had felt that in quite some time. He smiled sheepishly and inclined his head. "You honor me," he said softly. He then looked up again and added, "What will you do now?"

"For now?" Gisla sighed, glancing back towards the king. "For now, I still cannot travel. We have no weapons, no supplies. Though you've freed us in name, we're still bound to… this king. Unless you intend to attack the city?"

Telepe shook his head. "I'm afraid that's impossible now," he said softly. "If there's anything-"

"No," Gisla replied fiercely, turning back to him with a hard glint in her eyes. "You have done more than enough for us. I shall not burden you any more than this. This is my trial to face." Her expression softened a moment later, and she smiled as he added, "But thank you."

Telepe opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it and simply nodded. "As you say," he replied simply. Gisla gave him a brief smile, then turned to go collect her son.

As Telepe watched them leave through a side passage, Prince Dynar came up behind him and put his hand on Telepe's shoulder. "Well done," he said.

"Was it?" Telepe asked uncertainly. "I cannot help but wonder if we could have forged a more favorable treaty with them. We made several concessions – perhaps even unnecessary ones – all to ensure their neutrality. Even then, we still couldn't convince them to ally with us."

"Under the circumstances, I'd say you did quite well, actually," Prince Dynar assured him. "The king was rather belligerent throughout, so it's surprising you swayed him at all. Miscarcand also could have caused us a great deal of trouble, especially if the western kingdoms had rallied to its banner. With this treaty, Miscarcand can now serve as a buffer between both east and west, one that no kingdom shall be willing to disrupt – even Umaril. In one fell swoop, you've divided Cyrod in half and ensured that the western kingdoms shall be far less likely to intervene on Umaril's behalf. We can now turn our attention inward towards the White-Gold City without fearing a blade in our backs."

Telepe blinked at Dynar, then tilted his head thoughtfully. He hadn't considered that. A sheepish grin spread across his lips. "I… had not intended to, but I suppose you're right."

"And now we can also enjoy goods coming in from the west, so long as Miscarcand continues to allow trade to flow," Dynar added. "Make no mistake. This was a victory, Telepe. Perhaps it wasn't a total victory where we gained all that we wanted, but this is favorable to us. You should be proud."

Telepe smiled faintly at the prince and inclined his head graciously. "You are too kind, Your Highness," he replied modestly, before sighing to himself. "Though it's a shame that we can't simply end the war the same way, by simply convincing the other side to end the fighting."

Dynar laughed ruefully and shook his head. "No. I don't believe that Umaril is likely to entertain an envoy any longer."

Telepe smirked slightly in agreement. "And sadly, he's in command of the army opposing us," he chuckled. "It's not as though we can speak with anyone… higher…."

An idea slowly dawned on Telepe. His gaze drifted from Dynar to a marble statue standing beside the king's throne. The statue of Meridia. A figure the Ayleids venerated above all others. Including Umaril. Especially Umaril.

Telepe's heart began to pound as a wild idea sprouted in his mind. His thoughts drifted to a simple question that several days ago had shaken him to his core: "What use would a woman who can speak with the gods even have for an emissary who cannot?"

He knew that he could not speak to the Aedra, and likely never would. But mortals had already discovered ways to speak with other beings of incredible power.

"Your Majesty?" Telepe asked, turning back to the king, who was still sitting on his throne, speaking with his advisor. The elven king's eyes snapped back to Telepe, narrowed in annoyance at yet another interruption. Telepe held his hands up in apology. "You and your people are devotees of Meridia, yes?"

"As are all true Ayleids," the king snapped. "Now, if you're finished asking foolish questions-"

"And Miscarcand is one of the chief centers of her worship, yes?" Telepe continued. "After all, it is one of the largest cities in Cyrod." When the king stared at him blankly, he added, "To that end, do your priests have the privilege of communing directly with Meridia?"

The king's expression shifted from irritation to confusion. Beside him, Dynar's own eyes went wide. Telepe suspected that he had already caught on to his line of thinking. "We can, yes," the king said slowly. "If we must request an audience, there is a shrine a short distance from Miscarcand. It is one of Meridia's holy sites, and our priests can summon her to receive her blessings, or even to converse with her, if she is willing."

A slow smile spread across Telepe's face. "How?"