Politics of the Redoran

I've had little to write. Blissful nights with Ahnassi, busy but ordinary days in the guild halls; seldom any detail of note. But Vvardenfell, and my destiny, do not wait.

I have been successful at binding the objectives of Great House Redoran and the Mage's Guild. Under Trebonius the guild struggled. His emphasis led us in directions that aggrandized him with the high council in distant Cyrodiil. Many apprentices labored at impossible tasks, or had none. My own experience with solving the riddle of the Dwemer aside there was little accomplished. Supporting the defense of Maar Gan has set us in a different direction, a direction that means little in Cyrodiil, but brings us actively into the awareness of the Dunmer.

The Dunmer, when they think of mages, think of the Telvani. Xenophobic, ensconced in their towers, motivated only by their own mysterious impulses; the Telvani have not given Dunmer society the ready access to magecraft that the guild represents. It falls to us. A welcome void that we have begun to fill. The spreading blight provides endless opportunity.

Things are progressing particularly well in Ald-ruhn. Edwinna has her apprentices traveling throughout Redoran territory, honing their skills while serving the people; battling the blighted monsters of Red Mountain. The gratitude of Theldyn Virith, the hetman of Ald Velothi, has taken a most tangible form. The dreugh hunters of his coastal fishing village contributed two pounds of valuable wax from their prey as reward for dispatching a particularly nasty school of slaughterfish that was plaguing their docks. Alchemists throughout the halls are exploring the magical properties of this rare substance.

Through the efforts of the guild my own star has risen in the house, and I have been promoted to the rank of Lawman. To advance further will require the sponsorship of a council member, and tomorrow I will be in Ald-ruhn to address this. I have been keeping my distance, as Athyn Sarethi suggested, though I have kept in contact through Neminda. He has continued to investigate how he became a target of the Morag Tong. Perhaps he has reached some conclusion, or perhaps he has reached a point where he needs my assistance. In any event he has sent for me.

Leaving for Ald-ruhn will take me away from my own insoluble confusion. Hopefully with distance will come some sort of clarity. Picking at the knot on a near daily basis has given no solution.

Ranis, my mentor in the guild, has tried to help. Mages she apprenticed with in her youth, friends and close confidants, have long since gone to dust. In many cases her own apprentices have risen to their peaks, then eventually withered and died. In an organization where there are relatively few elvenkind her longevity has given her a close proximity to the issues of aging and death.

I also shared many mugs with my friend Nelos. For him the issue is as personal as it is for me. He never expected his Dunmer heart to be stolen by a mortal, but now he grapples with a future in which his beloved Maurrie will age and be lost to him. He has an advantage. This consequence was there for him when they met.

I am the Nerevarine; preserved from age and death. From natural death. If I succeed and Dagoth Ur is defeated I will be the savior of Vardenfell. My reward will be an eternity of loss; loss of my own beloved Ahnassi. Or not. Deep in my mind I am beginning to hear whispers; a foul voice that I must ignore. Dagoth Ur is immortal, even by Dunmer standards, also the Tribunal. In my moment of triumph, if it should come to pass, I will have access to the heart of Lorkan. Will I be able to turn my back on its power? The power to save my love?