The Trail of The Archmage

My previous journal began 'I am Arvil Bren, a wizard of Breton descent.' Though I possessed some command of the magic arts I was hardly a wizard, then. Since, I have joined the guild of Mages and have risen through their ranks. Now I am acknowledged as a wizard among them. On the opposite note, though I cannot change my Breton heritage, I no longer consider myself a Breton, really. I could not take my mate Ahnassi home to Bretonia any more than she could take me back to Elswyer, land of the Khajiiti cat people. Vvardenfell is our home, and by default so it shall remain. With Vvardenfell our lives and fortunes shall rise or fall.

The fortune I have, which could fall, is vast. I have accumulated a huge trove of treasures, and the call to retire and leave the problems of this isle to others to solve has been strong. I bowed to it briefly. But if the problems are left to others to solve then any consequences that befall me, or Ahnassi, or my friends will weigh directly on me. This isle, huddled in the path of war, is my home. I cannot rest while this war looms, knowing that my fate may be to avert it. Or my fate may be to win it.

My mentor, Caius Cosades, the spymaster of the Blades, told me to 'think locally'. The Emperor sent me to Vvardenfell as a ruse, a false fulfillment of the Nerevarine prophecy. A ruse that would likely lead to my death or imprisonment, a fate reserved, not exclusively, for such false prophets. I owe him no allegiance. I will think locally, and if I pursue fulfillment of the prophecy it will be under legitimate terms. If I am the Nerevarine I will restore the Dunmer to their own rulership as prophesied. With or without the Nerevarine the power of the Empire wanes with the Emperor's health, and the far provinces of the east could soon be cast adrift even if they do not rebel. The new king in Mournhold does not seem inclined to wait long.

Over the short span of my retirement I have seen things worsen. I can stand against the occasional ash minion of Dagoth Ur who tracks me down, and I am immune to the blight and disease that spreads from the dark stronghold under Red Mountain, but what of the rest of the inhabitants of my chosen homeland? Their plight weighs on me.

The plight of the multitudes and the machinations of Dagoth Ur would perhaps not be enough to bring me back into the fires of public life. The plight of friends, good friends, whose troubles stem directly from my own ambitions; that is the call that cannot be ignored. The mage's guild is in complete disarray. The council in distant Cyrodiil maintains support of the Archmage Trebonius. With the imminent possibility that Imperial troops could be withdrawn none of their number would take his place, so their support is unshakable despite Trebonius' obvious failings. To be Archmage of Vvardenfell on the day the legions are withdrawn would be a death sentence, as the ancient wizards of the Telvanni house will likely fall upon the guild immediately.

Even without the withdrawal of the legions the guild is in danger. Internal strife under Trebonius could allow such an opening that the Telvanni will act. That internal strife has been brought very close to a head, not only by me, but for me. The guild stewards who backed me were left hanging when I raced to Mournhold after Ahnassi was kidnapped. Even without the Telvanni Trebonius could find himself with no guild to preside over. If the local in Balmora could survive on its own Ranis Athrys would likely have renounced the guild and led her group to its own path. I met with her today.

"I'm ready to get back to work Ranis," I said as I entered her office.

"Working for who?" she asked bitterly. "Trebonius send you to stick a spear in me?"

"You know better than that Ranis. The guild in Vvardenfell needs you. It needs you a lot more than it needs Trebonius."

Ajira burst into the room hissing like netch with a slow leak in its gas bag. No doubt she was about to complain about something but she stopped when she saw me. "Good friend Arvil Bren! Ajira is always glad to see you!" Suddenly she saw the intensity in Ranis' red eyes, which were narrowed to murderous slits. "We will talk later!" she said quickly as the door closed behind her.

"I could have joined house Telvanni," Ranis sighed. "Instead my fortunes are tied to a bunch of outlanders. Trebonius is a half breath away from having me removed from the guild, if not killed outright, and you are living the life of leisure with your cat people."

"He can't have you removed Ranis. Most of the guild knows you are our best defense against the Telvanni."

"The guild here knows that," she said, "but the council is far from here Arvil Bren."

"Too far by half to make important decisions Ranis. It's time we start planning for the withdrawal of the Empire."

"Withdrawal?" Her dark Dunmer skin actually paled. "Without the legions the Telvanni would fall on us in an instant."

"That's why we need to come to terms with them Ranis. Not the council in Cyrodiil, us; the Mage's Guild of Vvardenfell."

There were a lot of points that had to be worked out. Some mages will know our plan immediately, others will be brought along as we go. Some will be kept in the dark until the legions are sailing for the mainland. A few will likely not join us even then. Trebonius is one of them. He will be my problem, personally.