"You have paid thousands of years of enslavement with oceans of blood; you have salted the earth after the gods ashed them. You now stand strong and proud, and few could stop you from paying these thousands of years of slavery in kind, but like you rose from your swamps, so could they rise from their ashes and pay with blood to equal the debt once more. The Choise is yours. You can finally have peace, or you can start a new cycle of hate. You can ensure your people's suffering never repeats itself, or you can start a never ending cycle."
Excerpt of "The Argonian Influence on the Fourth Empire"
Calandor -
The First ray of sunlight hit the White-Gold Tower as Calandor left the Imperial district. Unlike other members of His Majesty's Elder Concil, Calandor didn't need escorts to venture into the city proper. He, like his uncle Ocato before him, was a battlemage, and as such, there weren't many peasants capable of bringing him any harm, not that any had reasons to do so. Calandor served as the High Chancelor of the Elder Concil, a position that granted him many privileges and responsibilities, something Calandor, like any Altmer in his position, took pride in; unlike his brethren, however, Calandor enjoyed walking through the commercial districts of the city among the commoners and hardworking people, it brought perspective to Calandor's mind and helped him direct the Elder Concil towards decisions that would help the people. From the Nord hunter to the Dummer wizard, all could benefit from a strong empire with a strong economy and steadfast stewards.
"Good morrow, sire." Arvan greeted Calandor as the High Elf sat down in the benches available near his baking goods stall. "The usual?"
"Indeed, friend." Calandor smiled at the baker, one Tiberius had personally talked about with Calandor. "I shall also have Mint Chai; Imperial tea is hardly something to write home about, but when in Cyrodiil, do what the Cyrodiilians do." Calandor joked, despite being remarkably less refined than coffee prepared by good Altmer bakers Mint Chai was a good drink as far as one can get in Cyrodiil.
"We be the heart of Tamriel, sire; nothing happens if we don't do it, including making good tea." Arvan returned the jape as he handed Calandor a bread with Colovian cheese inside, his preferred food to break his fast when in City proper
"Ah, as good as ever, Friend. I feared I would've failed to bask in such delicacy for another Masser's turn." Calandor replied with a small smile, which quickly died out as he recalled the last Elder Concil's session and the upcoming one. The Psijic Order would be officially called to help in the investigations, for Master Snow's expedition had confirmed Tamriel had moved between realms. It explained why Oblivon was no longer accessible; however, it failed to explain why Aetherius had remained connected to Tamriel and why Magika kept flowing into this realm.
"No, but after this outing, your agenda will surely increase, old friend." A powerful voice sounded behind Calandor, a voice which he recognized. "As will mine, certainly. I took a "misstep to the right direction," as many call it, with this expedition. They expected failure; now they are sour that Morrowind and Skyrim hit gold by my side..." Tiberius Octum, the Emperor of all of Tamriel, said with a somewhat mournful tone to his voice.
" Your Majesty" Calandor tried to rise so he could bow his head but the emperor's hand found his shoulders and stopped him from doing so
"You need not rise, Calandor." Tiberius began, "Let us break our fast together as the old friends we are." The emperor asked, and Calandor stopped his attempt to rise and simply pulled a nearby bench closer so the emperor could sit. Tiberius quickly did so, and Arvan, seeing a new customer, approached.
"Good morrow, sire." The baker said, not seeing through the emperor's glamour spell. "What may I get you, ser?"
" Do surprise me, good man. I seem to be getting many good ones lately; I'm certain you shall not break my good luck streak." Tiberius said with an amicable smile, and Arvan, though confused, seemed to take it in stride.
" Do your Blades know you are here, Your Majesty.? " Calandor whispered as he quickly looked around for any hidden Blade.
"Alas yes. Sometimes one has to give those who guard them some form of control, even if as false as a painted shield." Tiberus answered calmly, as if not fearing one listening to his words. Illusion was truly a useful school of magic. Before Calandor could retort to that, Arvan placed a plate with a sunlight souffle and a cup of milk.
" Bretton food… It seems my luck remains." Tiberius commented as Arvan quickly left their presence after nodding at Tiberius comment.
"Do not be silly, Caldar. I know you are an excellent Blade; I remember your are learned in the Yokudan sword-singing. But if you attempt to stop me from eating my sunlight souffle, I will have to hurt you." Tiberius seemingly spoke to the air as he grabbed a spoon and brought a piece of the bretton dish to his mouth. Truly, archmages are an odd bunch; Calandor hadn't even detected the Blade agent nearby.
"I want you to give the investigation completely to the Psijc Order, Calandor. If I'm ever made to walk into the synod halls again, I will destroy it root and steam." Tiberius said, and Calendor realized this encounter was not by chance.
"Your Majesty? Why don't you order it yourself? It is not the prerogative of the council to go against your wishes." Calendor asked confusedly.
"I took a public vow to not intervene with the successors of the Magic Guild. No disbanding existing ones or creating new ones. My wife wanted the Summerset Isles to still be the great thinkers of magic," Tiberius said, and Calendor's eyes widened, so that was the reason why the Synod was still an organization under the empire despite the dislike of the emperor? A vow to the empress.
" But why barring the Synod from the investigation? " Calandor asked even tho he already knew the answer
"In the synod, there is no magic, only politics," Tiberius began. "I will not be made to endure politics interfering with this. You will give the investigations to the Psijic Order, or I will unceremoniously destroy the synod." Tiberius said as he got up from the chair, his souffle still in his hands. "I must leave now, old friend. I must think hard about Young Jon's journey. I think it's time for him to learn how to sing." Tiberius said, and Calandor's neck snapped towards the emperor so fast, his vision was black for a few seconds. Several questions came to Calandor's mind but none of them left his mouth. He already had many things in his mind; adding Jon Snow's future prospects among them would not make him a happier Mer. .
Calendor ate silently, his High Chancelor role seemingly possessing him as thoughts about how to address the Elder Concil passed through his mind. Calendor paid Arvan for his services and food and returned to the White-Gold Tower. His mind working on several different things at once.
Sybelle Westerling-
The strong smell of ink hit Sybelle's nose as she wrote down the message to her father. As the feather touched the parchment, making the familiar somewhat satisfying noise, Sybelle's mind moved to the fifteen foreign ships docked on her husband's ports. It wasn't the first time it did so, not even close. Magic ships from a magic land—the thought alone was enough to make Sybelle scoff if not for the clearly magic goods on said ships. Swords that contained lighting, canes that shot fireballs, and all manners of magic items were appraised, and a few were subsequently bought by House Westerling. Magical items were not all, however. All manner of things, such as salt, cheeses, silks, and cloths as exotic as they were beautiful, different kinds of meads and wine, and all manner of exotic crops, were available. Sybelle advised her husband to buy as much of their inventory as possible, and he had listened. Lord Lannister would certainly buy everything else they didn't, and so it fell to them to exploit this opportunity, and so Sybelle found her mind moving back to the parchment as she finished the letter requesting her father to sail at first light to the Crag and bring all gold available, for it was time for House Westerling and Spice to rise as high as they could.
"Mother, are you done?" Sybelle's daughter asked as she looked up at her. Her daughter, as always, was by her side, observing and learning.
"Yes, dear." Sybelle said as she removed her eyes from the parchment and looked at her daughter's eyes; she was twice prettier than Sybelle was at her age and far more innocent as well; it was the reason Sybelle had her daughter shadowing her as she schemed and plotted their House's rise. Plot, which had to be carefully planned and NEVER beyond the point of no return. Less the rains reach past Castamere. "Get up and let us part to the ravenry." Sybelle said as she got up from the table she was previously writhing on.
Sybelle and Jayne left Gawen's solar and together they started waking towards the ravenry
"Have you seen the cat people, Mother?" Jeyne asked. Sybelle noticed the wonder in her eyes and smiled faintly.
"Yes, dear." Sybelle replied, but soon a reproachful frown appeared on her face. "But don't get too close or too familiar; they are beings as bad as men. Or so I was told."
"They don't look evil, Mother." Jeyne offered, and Sybelle nodded.
"I don't recall saying they were." Sybelle began, "I was told they are like any other man; some are good and some are bad, neither inherently evil nor good."
"The servants are saying they can see in the dark and can smell people from far away." Jeyne commented
"Cats can do it, so it stands to reason that so can they." Sybelle said as she contemplated the intricacies of the Khjiis, the cat people of the west. The walk to the ravenry didn't take long and sooner than Sybelle realized they had arrived, and they were not the only ones in the ravenry; as far as Sybelle saw, her husband and the lost bastard were already there, and the Maester followed behind them as they talked.
"I cannot promise more, my lord." Sybelle caught the tail end of their conversation, but whatever it was, her husband seemed pleased already.
"That is more than enough, Master Snow. Far better than I expected." Gawen replied; his voice was that of a child that had gotten a great prize. It caught Sybelle by surprise, so much so that she didn't take notice of the respectful tone her husband used with the Bastard.
"I would however recommend you tell Lord Lannister the other alternatives. The properties of Valyrian-Steel can easily be surpassed by any half-decent enchanter. For example, swords can further be enchanted to only be lifed by those of a specific bloodline and to return to the wielder's hands once lost. All that while keeping the properties associated with Valyrian Steel." The bastard spoke, and Sybelle remembered commander Marus saying something about the bastard being a master at magics and that such things afforded great prestige in the empire of his.
"Oh, worry not, Master Snow; I'll let Lord Lannister know. " It's a shame you won't be sailing to the Rock." Gawen replied, and the boy chuckled humorously.
"Oh shame it is not, my Lord." The boy began, "It's been years since I got separated from my family; I wish to see my father again, the sooner the better. I came with the fleet to protect the ships from another mage of my capabilities. There is none in Westeros; there never were. I am not needed, and my master has not recalled me to learn under him, so as such I'm free to do as wish, and as much as I respect Lord Lannister, my father's House relations have been frosty at best with House Lannister." The boy finished, and Sybelle chose that moment to announce herself and her daughter.
"My Lord husband." Sybelle called, and Gawen turned his head towards her and Jeyne. " Snow."
"It's Master Snow, Good Sister." Ormond, who Sybelle hadn't even seen in the room, spoke suddenly, making Sybelle jump a little.
" What?" Sybelle asked confused.
"Indeed, Lady Wife. Jon Snow's title is that of Archmage, a master of magicks." Gawen replied instead of Ormond "And as such, he is to be referred to as Master Snow." Gawen's tone allowed no argument; in his castle, Jon Snow was to be referred to as Master Snow. Sybelle was gracious enough to apologize for a blunder when she clearly committed one. Gawen's childlike behavior had allowed her to slip a bit
"I apologize, Master Snow." Sybelle said simply.
"No offense taken, my lady." The bastard said as he inclined his head. Sybelle heard Ormond sighing in relief, and she asked herself what made her good brother so nervous about the boy. "I am aware you are not the first nor will you be the last to... challenge my right to my title."
"Let us let bygones be bygones." Gawen said quickly and the bastard smiled amicably and nodded
" Here.." The boy said as he raised his left hand, which glowed with some white mist, and suddenly a rose made of ice materialized in the boy's hand. With his other hand, he made some symbols in the air and pushed it into the ice rose; it glowed, and then the glow faded. "As a token of my acceptance of your lady wife's apology." The bastard said to the dumbfounded room, "For your daughter, this rose will transform into a bracelet, and if the lady ever finds herself in danger, a spectral wolf will appear and defend the lady. The wolf can be ridden, but it will only allow it if it deems the situation safe enough. It can only be used three times. I hope you will never need it." The bastard finished as he offered the rose to her daughter; who was the first to recover from the bastard's effortless feat of magic
"Thank you, Master Snow." Jeyne reached for the rose, which, as soon as it touched her skin, morphed into a bracelet by curling itself on Jeyne's arm
"Marvelous." The Maester commented, "What were those symbols, Master Snow?" The old man asked, taking advantage of the stupefied state of the room
"Despite its supernatural nature, magic is still a science. It has its own language and rules, which have been understood and studied for thousands of years. Those symbols are part of magic's language. They are runes—very primitive ones at that. They predate the era of arcane enchanters." Jon Snow explained, his words seemingly being absorbed by the Maester like water on fabric."
"You have spoken about the Synod, the foremost institution of magic in your Empire." The Maester began but was interrupted by Gawen
"I must thank you for your gift, Master Snow." Gawen began amicably, "My dear Jeyne is certainly taken by it, but that brings me to question, Why are you here, dear child?" Gawen asked as he turned to Jeyne; the girl, so awed by the rose on her wrist, did not reply.
"We came to send a raven to my Lord Father. I've heard his spices would be dearly appreciated by the tamrielic people. Sybelle replied, and she turned to Jon Snow, silently asking if it was true, for she had just taken an educated guess and not heard anything as she had claimed
"Aye… That is partially true, my Lady. The Redguards are as famous for liking spices as they are for being the best swordsmen in Tamriel. The Khajiit as well, to a lesser extent. They have a weak spot for sweets," Jon Snow replied, and Sybelle nodded. Her father would probably have more gold to spend after he sold his spices to the Tamrielic than House Westerling had used to buy the goods from them. It boded well for her family's prospects. For Jeyne, more so than Gawen or even her father, with enough gold, many would be willing to overlook her origins.
"Well, My Lord, Ladies, Ser. I will be on my way. I have preparations to make for my trip up North." Jon Snow said as he bowed his head to the nobles.
"So long, Master Snow." Gawen said as he returned the head bow. The boy smiled at them and walked out of the room. The silence he left in his wake was staggering. That was until Jeyne tried to break it.
"Do you think it will work?" Her daughter asked; her voice was small, and dare she say hopeful? It was wrong! Her daughter will not be besotted with a bastard, but before she could say anything, her husband and brother spoke first
"You have not told your wife what I reported, brother. This could've gone sour quickly," Ormond commented, making Sybelle wonder what her husband had omitted from her.
"I have not; I did not think I had to. Jon Snow is not a lady, therefore outside of my wife's circle," Gawen reported. "I was wrong."
"What is it that I need to know, Lord Husband?" Sybelle asked
"I, like you, was a fool and paid no mind to the respect the Tamrielians were giving Jon Snow." Ormond spoke, " The boy took two insults but the third, under his emperor's banner of parley, was too much. He froze the ocean around us... from where the ships were anchored all the way to the horizon... in all directions." Ormond finished; the look in his eyes was that of someone who survived a battle by sheer dumb luck.
"You jest... he's just a boy!" Sybelle exclaimed
"I was told he's not the youngest to ever be an archmage, that the youngest was a girl of nine who died ages ago at the age of 250. I was also told he's not particularly skilled or special among archmages. He is, however, akin to a squire of the emperor of that land. That the man who rules over their whole continent holds the boy in high regards." Ormond spoke, " He grew up with royal children, his word sways the emperor, Marus himself told me the emperor went against his small council because the boy asked him so." Ormond finished; the grim silence that followed was a proof of how shocking such information was.
"If he's so influential there, why is he going North? Why is he leaving his position by his emperor side to go be a bastard in Winterfell?" Sybelle found herself asking out loud; the incomprehension she felt towards the boy's actions was staggering. If Tamriel was anything like Westeros, and the fact there were nobles and lords there made it so, Snow's connections with the ruling family would certainly grant him unprecedented status for someone of his origins.
"He's a Northerner. They are all a strange bunch." Gawen replied, and Sybelle looked at him and nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.
Jon-
Jon arrived at Marus cabin five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to happen; his black robes with red trimmings and white runes made him look like an archmage should, almost aetherial. His dark hair was braided in a classic nordic style, done by a nord lass on Skyrim's galleon, "Talos Revenge.". Surprisingly enough, Jon was one of the firsts to arrive; only Marus and his immediate Legate Jordis were present, both looking over a map of Westeros and one of Tamriel. Jon looked at the map of Tamriel and saw it had all the routes of the East Empire Company and minor trading companies. When Jon passed through the door, both Marus and Legate Jordis were in silence; it remained so for a few more seconds. Jon assumed it was due to both legionnaires' concentration in whatever they were doing.
"Master Snow, how effective do you think these Iron Islanders are in sea warfare?" Marus asked; his tone suggested he, for some reason, thought the Iron Islanders a threat.
"Very much not effective against our ships, Marus. They are a bunch of glorified pirates. Slavers." Jon replied with disgust in his face, disgust that was mirrored by both imperial officers. Marus looked at him, and Jon thought he saw anger in his eyes.
"You told me slavery was illegal in Westeros." Marus asked; his voice was dangerous, and it promised retribution for any blunder
"It is. In the whole of the continent, except for the Iron Islands. Their culture and god allow their thralls and salt wives. I'm not sure why it's accepted by the other kingdoms, but the mainland does not allow slavery." Jon replied calmly, his mind going back to his childhood as he tried to recall the reason why Thralls and Salt wives were allowed to be. He failed to recall the reason, if it even was given to him. Marus nodded and looked back at the map; he marked the entire Iron Islands with a black cross.
"Eliminate hostile ships with extreme prejudice if attacked first. Leave none alive. Legate." Marus spoke as he looked at Legate Jordis, who seemed confused by the order. "My ascendancy to Minister-Admiral was confirmed by High Chancelor Calandor as of yesterday; Legate Jordis will be responsible for the protection of the East Empire Trading Company in the Padomay Ocean. I'll have the emperor spare half a legion to protect the routes we will establish with Westeros." Marus completed, and Jon nodded to himself. Marus' ascension was already a foregone conclusion by the time they had left Tamriel.
"I would also recommend you protect every Tamrielic ship in these waters. Surely many people will see Westeros for the golden opportunity it is; other trading companies will try and build their own trade routes." Jon suggested, his gray eyes resting over Jordis face
"Tiberius would not be happy if a ship full of civilians were to be captured by the Ironborn." Jon pointed out, and Jordis nodded fiercely. She turned to Marus, who gritted his teeth but otherwise nodded his head.
"In such cases, abandoning the East Empire ships and engaging the pirates targeting civilians loyal to his Majesty the Emperor is a prudent course of action. Especially if they are traders unaffiliated with any trade company." Marus said, and Jordis nodded relieved.
"If I hear a civilian, a citizen of the empire, was captured because of the bribes the East Empire pays, I'll have the heads of all your captains, Legate. Let them know of it. I'll have their heads as well as the heads of whoever bribed them." Marus said his voice was level, didn't waver or even shake; it was as if he was simply commenting on the wheater. "I will also remind myself to talk to the Emperor about these Ironborn. Whoever the ambassador is, he or she will have to make it clear the empire will not accept such things," Marus said, and Jon nodded.
Soon the whole room was full; all imperial officers were present, as were the few nobles from Morrowind and Skyrim who chose to risk coming with the expedition.
Jon watched as Marus sat his communication crystal down and waited. A few minutes later, it lit up
"Presenting His Imperial Majesty, Tiberius Octum, The Ysmir Stormcrown, Youngest Son of Akatosh, Emperor of Men, Mer, Khajiit, and Saxhleel, Overlord of the Dragon Race; Archmage of Winterhold, Defeater of the World Eater, and Bane of the Aldmeri Dominion." A voice sounded on the crystal before a projection of the Emperor sitting on the ruby throne appeared above the crystal. Jon thought it was impressive, his mind calculating the amount of enchantments needed to create a communication crystal with a real-time projection on it. Jon used his magic to inspect it, and it had traces of Altmeri magic. So a creation of The University of Alinor, the Telvanni Wizards would certainly be all over the place; they have been trying to achieve something similar.
"Your Majesty," Marus said as he kneeled down, Jon and all other officers following suit.
" Rise." The Emperor said simply. The Emperor, like always, had his hair braided in Nordic style, an imperial goatee on his face, and the Amulet of Kings resting on his chest. He looked like the portraits of Tiber Septim, all serious and grim-faced. Very Tiberius, nothing like Torbjorn, the Nord name he was born under before having to choose a new name representing his new empire.
"Report, Augustus." The emperor said and Marus nodded
" We have established diplomatic relations with House Westerling, they have signed a contract with the East Empire Trade Company, they waived half of the Lordly taxes on all Tamrielic goods for the next 15 years, they can't waive the Warden and Kingly taxes, which for some reason are a separate thing here." Marus started, "We, as in your navy, will head to the City of Lannisport, and we shall talk to Lord Tywin Lannister, father to the Queen of Westeros. We expect to establish ties more concretely as Your Majesty demands." Marus finished, and the Emperor visibly nodded.
"Why haven't you sailed to Jon's people instead? He is the Lord of half the continent, isn't he?" The Emperor asked, his voice betraying nothing.
"Our mission was to establish ties at first non-hostile contact. Master Snow's family lives nowhere near the coast. They are also gaining an archmage on a continent with no active magic. The imbalance would be too much." Marus replied his face betrayed nothing as well, and the Emperor nodded.
" Smart. I imagine you have started a plan to protect my trading ships... as well as any civilian ships who are unwise enough to cross an ocean without protection." Tiberius asked; his voice was strong like thunder as he spoke the word "Smart." Jon saw Marus shoulder visibly relax.
"Indeed. Plans are being made; they shall be submitted in no more than four days from now." Marus began, "Master Snow has informed me of a group of organized pirates... they practice some form of slavery." Marus continued; his voice was calm but his eyes were not, nor were the eyes of the other officers "Therefore, I request that half a legion worth of good fighters and mages as well as a small fleet be assigned to protect the trading and civilian ships." Marus finished. Jon saw the moment the Emperor made his decision, brought his hands to this goatee and nodded.
"You shall have a full legion. They shall police the waters in my name. Legate Jordis!" The Emperor called the woman out among all the officers; she saluted the emperor and awaited her orders.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Jordis presented herself.
"Henceforth you shall hold the title of General. You shall be responsible for the Legion patrolling the Padomay Ocean. In your honor, be the consequences of failure. Should any of my citizens die in these waters, you will inform their families yourself." Tiberius began; his voice held more power than Jon's entire repertoire of Magic.
" Augustus!" Tiberius called
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Marus replied, his eyes were completely glued to the Emperor's face.
" Fleet Commander Augustus Marus, I would name you Minister-Admiral." The Emperor spoke and Marus knelt again
"It would be an honor, Your Majesty." Marus replied.
" Good. Once you return from your talks with Lord Lannister, you shall assume your office." Tiberius began, "My daughter shall become the ambassador to Westeros; three more officers shall be sent to..." Tiberius began as he brought something to his face, a paper, Jon imagined. "The Riverlands; The Reach and Dorne. Jon will represent me in the North. One embassy in each major holding of Westeros that shares our waters." Tiberius finished; clearly, his master knew Jon was planning on going to Winterfell.
"Jon. Five years. That's all I will give you before you'll have to return permanently to Tamriel and to your apprenticeship under me. and Master Neloth. In the meantime, you are officially charged with the Embassy of the North. Your duties will require you to build a portal to the Imperial City. My daughter will go through that portal and immediately head towards... Westeros' Capital... I'll be sending… Grahkrindrog… GEH… Faal Mid gein fen jaaril dii kiir." Tiberius began, his voice changing as he spoke in Dovahzul, the crystal shaking as the Dovahkiin's thu'um was unleashed. "The loyal one will protect my child," Tiberius translated, an old habit of his, copied from a dragon named Paarthurnax according to Morihatha, Tiberius eldest daughter, future High Queen of Skyrim after Old Elisif.
"Dragons have a deep history with Westerosi, Your Majesty. Many will seek to use your daughter for their own gains." Jon explained, his reluctance was well earned in Jon's opinion; a dragon flying over King's Landing will cause unprecedented chaos, and as long as Princess Calanye was present in the capital, that would be where Grahkrindrog would fly over, and no man or mer would be able to stop him from doing so.
"They will try indeed, and they will fail." Tiberius said simply, as if not worried about the reactions of bringing a dragon to the capital of another kingdom. "A Battlemage and fifty legionnaires as well as four Blades will accompany Calanye." Tiberius said with finality. Jon was wise enough to know no argument of his would sway the Emperor.
"My Legionaries... I am proud of what you accomplished in my name. I foresee trade will boom like never before. My great empire will become even greater. You have made me proud; you have made your country proud. When you return home, you will return as successful explorers." Tiberius began, "Your mission has only begun, but I can only see success in your future."