Cyrodiil Options

[Alexander]

Ok, so for the unavoidable introduction babble, as most of you know I was rather pleased with Morrowind. I thought it was far better then the dribble I wrote prior to that, and most people seemed to agree with me. After I finished Morrowind I already had an idea for a sequel, I actually wrote the very first chapter of said sequel while I was posting up parts of Morrowind. Unfortunately though, after that first chapter I kind of lost interest. I didn’t think the ideas I had back then were enough to weave an entire story together, and I was probably right.

But as these things have a habit of developing themselves, over the past months I kept thinking back to the sequel, and kept adding ideas to the pile I already had. Now it’s done. I once again enjoyed writing this, and I hope you’ll have similar fun reading it.

As I’ve explained in the past, I’m not very good at making up things like titles, Akatosh knows it took me about as long to come up with the various titles of the chapters as it did to write the entire thing, so I’ve named the story “Cyrodiil” (catchy wot? )

Before I end my babbling and get on with posting the story, I once again would like to thank Treydog for agreeing to help with my story as editor, and for fixing the many, many, many grammatical and spelling errors, and placing every comma, semicolon and whatchamacallit in the correct place. And thanks to everyone who ever read Morrowind, and commented. I really enjoy the comments.


Now, while you don’t have to have read Morrowind, I believe in order to get the most out of Cyrodiil, it would be recommended.


So, enough babbling and on to Cyrodiil.

[Alexander]

Countess Arriana Valga was seated comfortably in her chair in the Elder Council Chambers. It was where she belonged. As she often told people, some are born to lead, and some are born to follow. She was born to lead. She grew up on a small farm outside Chorrol, but even in her early years she knew she was destined for greatness. She went to the mass in the Chapel of Stendarr every Sundas and prayed to the god of mercy to grant her the opportunity to bestow her wisdom and blessings upon those less fortunate than she. Her prayers were answered one day when the Count of Chorrol, obviously inspired by a divine voice, spotted her in the Chapel and started paying court to her.

Even after she became Countess, and now ruling Countess, she prided herself on never missing a sermon. It was quite a responsibility, ruling an entire city and looking out for the people in it, and doing her best to care for the rest of Cyrodiil as well, but if there was one woman up to the task, it was she.

She was aroused from her thoughts when she noticed that around her the voices had grown quiet. “Countess Valga.” Using her excellent memory to think back to what had been said just before the silence started, the Countess was quickly able to regain her composure.

“Chancellor Ocato, you ask what we should do about Morrowind. I say this- nothing. It has nothing to do with how powerful their mages are or how mighty their new Ghostfence is or how this or how that. The people rebelled against their own king, and now they would choose no ruler to replace the king. Lady Barenziah doesn’t even wish to be named Queen. I mean they are obviously a backward people as it is apparent the Divines have considered them unworthy of order through righteous rule. So I say let them be, and smother in their own ignorance. The Divines will punish them as they see fit.”

Arriana was pleased with herself; she ignored the stares of some of the other counts and countesses. Some people might have thought them stares of pity, but not Arriana. She knew them for what they were; stares of envy. She had known them all her life. People had always been envious of her because she was better than them, she knew the will of the Divines and acted accordingly; and others, even if they knew the will of the Divines, never had the courage nor patience to live their lives accordingly.

The vote on the matter went as planned; only the Count of Cheydinhal voted in favor of immediate action against what he called the “usurpers alliance”; the other Counts and Countesses voted to leave the province alone for now and deal with it when the time was right.

Next on the agenda was another small matter. Who would be charged to rebuild Kvatch? None of the other Counts and Countesses was really looking forward to receiving this job, so when Janus Hassildor proposed his seneschal, Mercator Hosidus, for the job, no one objected.

Now it would be time for Arriana’s proposition. She had petitioned Chancellor Ocato to be allowed to enter her own proposal to the Elder Council, and naturally he had allowed it. How could he not allow the most able ruler in all of Cyrodiil to bring to the table a proposal, especially one of such obvious wisdom and merit?

Standing up out of her seat, she began the speech she had been practicing for many days.

“My fellow Counts and Countesses, in the name of the Divines I thank you for being allowed to speak to you.” She ignored the sighs, “What I have to say will be the first step in healing this Empire, and restoring it to its rightful greatness.”

“For years now, in every province there has been resistance. Not just during the recent crisis but even before it. Small and larger rebellions, briberies, extortion, killings, and much more I won’t even name. I believe the reason for this is simple. The Divines are mad at us for disturbing the natural order of things. The Empire was founded by Imperials and expanded outward from Cyrodiil. To reclaim our former greatness, we need to go back to our roots; we need to start all over again.”

“What I propose is simple; we should recall all of our Legions, nor just the ones we have already recalled, but all of them, along with any and all other officials proven to be loyal to the empire. Recall them all back to Cyrodiil, and keep them here for at least ten years. During those years we will train them and train them and train them again to make sure both our armies and officials are competent, loyal and all serve their rightful rulers; the Divines. We’ll weed out all of the non-believers and those not qualified.”

“After ten years without our steady hand, and wise words to lead, and guide them, the other provinces will be in chaos and ready to take us back whatever the cost. This time, we will be able to name any terms we choose and need not make any concessions like the Septim line has done in the past.”

“This is my proposal.”

Arriana stood erect, awaiting the inevitable standing ovation one always gets when one speaks words as wise as any god. Instead, other than an exalted and admiring look from her daughter, most other Counts and Countesses looked at her in disbelief. Not liking the stares, she decided to sit down. It was Count Hassildor who reacted first.

“Countess Valga, while none can ignore the obvious benefits in the short term for the province of Cyrodiil, I fear in the long run it would not have the desired effect you think it may have.”

The insolence of that man. “Ah, is that so Count Hassildor? And why is that?”

“After ten years of being without the Empire, I believe it would prove disastrous for us to move back into those provinces. I believe we would not be hailed as saviors, but denounced as conquerors, and once again would need to pay the price of a conqueror. And need I remind you; this time we have no Tiber Septim to lead us, nor any Emperor for that matter. No, I fear your logic is flawed, Countess Valga.”

Arriana could feel herself turning red with anger. How dare he; who was he to ignore words spoken from divine inspiration? She struggled hard to get her temper back under control; she mustn’t forget; he simply didn’t know any better. She should only pity those with less good sense, not scorn them.

“Regardless, Chancellor Ocato, I would like to put this proposition to a vote. I’m confident others will have a better grasp of what needs to be done than Count Hassildor.”

To her utter disbelief, the vote came back against her. One vote in favor, six against and one abstention. The abstention had come from Countess Carvain of Bruma. What a pitiful creature she had become. Ever since the Oblivion crisis she had become the most unsure ruler of them all, perhaps in the history of Cyrodiil. A moment of embarrassment had occurred after the vote; right after Chancellor Ocato had announced the results, her daughter, Countess Caro, had jumped up and loudly exclaimed;

“Chancellor Ocato, perchance you did not hear my voice. I voted in favor of this proposal.” The Chancellor did not even dignify this with a response; instead it was Count Umbranox of Anvil who replied, in that know-it-all voice of his;

“Alessia, while every Count and Countess is welcome during these proceedings, only a city’s ruling Count or Countess has a vote in these matters. So while you’re welcome to argue on behalf of your mother, you cannot cast a vote in favor, or a vote permanent. This was made law by Uriel I, in year 55 of this Era.”

Alessia sat down with her face red from embarrassment, and Arriana wondered once again what she had done to deserve a daughter like that. Surely it was a test from the gods. But that her proposal was denied was an even bigger matter than that of a less then intelligent daughter. She could not understand it; after she had explained her plan to him, the snake-man had assured her the other Counts and Countesses would likewise see the wisdom and divine inspiration in her words. No, something was wrong here. Someone had polluted the minds of the other Counts against her words. Someone was influencing the Council, obviously to further some diabolical plot to further disrupt the empire. But whoever it was, Arriana was up to the challenge; she would make sure the Empire prospered, no matter what.