Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Author's Note: This is a series I've posted at a few other places (SpaceBattles, The Skyrim Forge), where it's generally gotten a pretty good reception. This obviously means you can go ahead and read the entire thing if you're so inclined. However, I'll post it piecemeal here so you can follow along as it unfolds, if you're so inclined. I'll probably post a new chapter every few days.

And yes, this is a crossover. Yes, with the old '90s sitcom Daria. The characters from the show are re-imagined as natives to Tamriel in the late Third Era. Forget about the Nerevarine or the Hero of Kvatch--this is Tamriel as viewed through the perspective of normal-ish people. I've found that the 3E 420s and American 1990s are weirdly similar in a lot of ways: seemingly peaceful and seemingly prosperous, but with a lot of corruption bubbling under the surface. The characters still have their cynical '90s snark--but they have to be careful what they say and to whom, because Morrowind's a much more dangerous place where violence is always an option. I try to stay true to the characters while also adhering to the rule of the setting.

If you're not familiar with the show, don't worry. I don't think you need to be. Daria's a new arrival to Balmora, so the characters are introduced to the reader the same time they're introduced to her. People have enjoyed this without having seen the show. Finally, this does use Morrowind/Redguard-era lore. While almost the entire series takes place in Vvardenfell, it does make occasional reference to Cyrodiil being tropical.

Anyway, here it is!

Episode 1: Outlanders

Chapter 1

Daria decided that she hated Sera Ondryn's smile. Most of the Dunmer she'd seen preferred to scowl, and if a typical Dunmer smile was anything like Ondryn's, that was probably for the best. He kept it on as he introduced himself in a soft and tremulous voice, the solicitous expression made all the creepier by the fixed gaze in his red eyes. Standing at the head of his adobe classroom, its deep and dusty shadows somehow made darker by the flickering light of a half-dozen tallow candles, Ondryn smiled even wider. The students, seated at long wooden benches, writing slates on their laps, remained stone-faced.

"Outlander," he said. "It's a kind of a scary word, isn't it? Hearing it makes you feel like you don't belong."

No one had called Daria an outlander to her face but she'd heard the word plenty of times already.

Not, she reminded herself, that she particularly cared what anyone here thought. The boors in her old hometown had been one kind of stupid, and the ones here were a different kind. But stupid never changed.

Daria grimaced. The thick lenses of her spectacles seemed to warp her shadowy surroundings, blurring and stretching the faces of her peers—all outlanders like her, except for one Dunmer girl at her side. Daria took the glasses off for a moment and blinked a few times to re-orient her vision.

"But I'm here to help you feel like you belong. Great House Hlaalu is a friend to the Empire, and we believe there's a place for everyone, even outlanders! Outlander just means you're from somewhere outside Morrowind. It doesn't mean that we don't like you."

Daria checked herself. Daughter of an Imperial legal advocate and a Nord merchant. Reasonably well-connected. However xenophobic the Dunmer might be, the Empire still ruled them.

What the hell.

She put her glasses back on and raised her hand. Ondryn's eyes caught the motion.

"Yes, uh... Doria?"

"Daria," she corrected. "If being an outlander doesn't mean you're a bad person, why is it always used as an insult?"

Ondryn gulped. "Well, uh... look, just let me get through this part and we can have some discussions later. Anyway, everyone here is welcome..."

Daria narrowed her eyes. She'd hoped to offend him, at least, but Ondryn seemed too squishy to get angry at anyone. This would be a boring session.

The Dunmer girl leaned in.

"Don't expect him to answer any questions. He's got the speech memorized. Just enjoy the nice man's soothing voice."

"How am I supposed to follow him if he's so disingenuous?" Daria wondered again why this Dunmer was with the other foreigners.

"I can fill you in later. I've done this three times."



*********



The weather worsened as Daria stepped out of the Drenlyn Academy compound. Sheets of rain fell from the thick and curdled gray sky, smashing into the adobe roofs and turning the Odai River into a churning soup. Porters packed the streets, bent under the weight of crates and bulging sacks.

Suffused through the rain was the thick and sour smell of the local cuisine. It all came from kwama—kwama bugs and kwama eggs: smashed into paste, drained and served as soup, roasted in their shells, or served with bitter hackle-lo leaf. But always sour, like bad cheese left out for too long in the sun. The smell seeped into every mud-brick apartment and paving stone in Balmora, and she was pretty sure the rest of Morrowind smelled the same way.

She'd never wanted a loaf of bread so badly in her life.

A gaunt Dunmer farmer walked past, his gray hands clasping the reins of his two-legged pack lizard. Daria was pretty sure it was a guar—or maybe a kagouti? Its beady lizard eyes studied her for a moment, Daria's pink skin and round face perhaps a novel sight for such a creature.

The Dunmer girl from the orientation stood next to the lantern, her crimson eyes observing Daria. Her gray skin marked her as one of the natives, but her clothes, a shabby red coat and black trousers, were pure Imperial. Her first name, Janieta, more often called Jane, was also Cyrodiilic.

"What's your story?" Daria asked. "You're not an outlander, so why were you in the orientation?"

"Don't let the looks fool you," Jane said. "I'm as outlandish as you are."

"But you're a Dunmer."

"Yes, I'm Dunmer and an outlander." Her angular face hardened for a moment, but then relaxed. "Just being Dunmer isn't enough for Morrowind. You have to be born here, too. I spent my first five years in the Imperial City."

"Five years away from Morrowind and you're an outcast?"

"Oh, well those were five critical years. I mean, if you don't get potty trained in the traditional Dunmer way you'll just never fit in."

"Just so long as you are potty trained."

Jane smirked. "Come on, I know a place where they occasionally serve some outlander drinks for people like us. If nothing else, we can dry out for a bit."

Daria tightened her green woolen robe and followed Jane west along the river. Her mother had told her to try and make friends. Jane hadn't done anything to annoy her yet, so that was a start.

"What's that you're wearing over your eyes?" Jane asked, her smoky voice pushed to the limit to be heard over the crowd.

"They're called glasses. I'm basically blind without them."

And basically blind with them considering the rain. She raised a hand to keep the ungainly device in place. It didn't take much for the things to slip off the bridge of her nose. Her family had money, but not to the point where they could casually buy a replacement pair, especially not out here.

"Huh, I've never seen anything like that. Is it a Dwemer artifact? I've heard you can buy those if you're Imperial."

"No, it was made in Anvil by a specialist. If you want to judge me for them, go ahead. I'm used to it."

"Nah, they're a good look. Not often I see something genuinely new in Balmora."



*********



True to Jane's word, the Lucky Lockup was dry.

Daria and Jane sat at a table next to a support post, beneath a reassuringly familiar metal lantern. Faded tapestries covered the rough adobe walls to ward off the northern chill. The smoky air buzzed with murmurs in a dozen different languages. A free Argonian woman sat on a rug in a shadowed corner, her emerald-scaled hands gently beating a pair of hand drums, the percussion as steady and smooth as a spring rain back home.

The publican sold Cyrodiilic brandy but not at a price either of them could afford. Jane instead ordered a bottle of a local drink called shein, along with a loaf of bread and a bowl of sour-smelling scrib jelly.

"The food isn't bad, but it does take some time to get used to it," Jane said, as she dipped her bread into the mashed insect guts.

Her stomach churning, Daria sipped the shein from her earthenware mug. The drink wasn't bad, actually: bitter with a faintly sweet aftertaste.

Outside the building, the castle-sized silt strider standing at port let out its long and mournful wail, redolent of the ash-swept land it called home. The whole cornerclub seemed to shake at the noise. At least Daria didn't flinch that time. She must be getting used to things.

"I don't get it, Jane. You've been at the academy for years. Why do you keep retaking the orientation?"

"It's a good way to network. No self-respecting Hlaalu noble will hire an outlander like me to paint them, but there are plenty of upstart outlander merchants who'd just love to get their images captured by a native artist."

"A native?" Daria raised her eyebrows.

"As far as they know. I paint them in the usual Imperial style so they don't get all uncomfortable. Make the angles a little sharper. That way it seems suitably native and Morrowind-y. Then they hang it up in their homes and no one's the wiser."

Daria nodded. Life in Morrowind was a lot more complicated than she'd been led to expect.

"My family sent me here to be trained as a savant," Daria said. "That way I can use my knowledge to help rich families avoid taxes and skirt the law."

Jane's lips turned up in a hard smile. "Then you'll have plenty of opportunities here in Balmora."

"From what you say I'll have to stick with outlander families like mine."

"Oh, not at all."

Daria frowned. "Didn't you just say that Hlaalu nobles wouldn't hire outlanders?"

"They won't hire misfit Dunmer like me. They think I'm a traitor for not being born in Morrowind. You, on the other hand, are Imperial—"

"I'm only half," Daria corrected. "My father's a Nord."

"Trust me, it's all the same to them. The point is, the Hlaalu hate the Empire but love to ingratiate themselves with the Empire's rich—or failing that, the Empire's moderately prosperous."

"So, in Morrowind, corruption and favoritism are rampant, the nobles stack the deck against everyone else, and life is all around miserable?"

"Yup!"

"Nice to know some things are the same the world over."

Jane took a bite of bread. No longer able to deny her own hunger, Daria tore off a piece. Bracing herself, she stared at the bowl of scrib jelly, gray and glistening in the lantern light. Holding her breath, she took her bread and scooped up a big chunk of the stuff and jammed it into her mouth before she could chicken out.

A roiling shock ran from the tip of her tongue to the pit of her stomach the moment she tasted the jelly, thick and viscous and oh so sour. She forced her teeth to close on the bread, the familiar texture fighting a losing battle with the slick alien condiment. Something crunched—maybe a tail segment or a leg. She didn't want to know.

Somehow, she choked it down. She swallowed and then grabbed her cup, raising it to her mouth for a deep gulp. The harsh taste of fermented comberry obliterated the jelly's noxious flavor.

Jane gave a little cheer and clapped. "You did it! Trust me, it gets easier."

"How do you people eat this stuff?" Daria wondered. She drank some more shein.

"We people?" Janieta raised an eyebrow. "Far from me to defend Morrowind, but when bugs are all you have, you get creative with what you consider edible. This stuff will fill you up."

"I guess it was pretty hearty," Daria said, feeling a little abashed.

She didn't like the Imperials who looked down on the Mer, Beastfolk, and other races of Men. She was half-Nord herself. Dunmer society was awful—she knew they still enslaved Khajiit and Argonians in the remote parts of Morrowind—but it wasn't like the Empire forced them to stop.

It was just that nothing about Morrowind felt like home.

"The Lucky Lockup's not a bad place, as Balmora goes," Jane said, her eyes settling on a party of nervous gold-skinned Altmer, their narrow shoulders draped by mantles of still-fluttering dragonfly wings.

"I haven't seen many other places here, so I couldn't say."

"The Lockup gets lot of visitors. Caravaners from the South Gate, pilgrims spilling out from the strider port, Bitter Coast fisherman coming up the Odai. I sit here and I get ideas, and then I paint them. Or sketch them, at least."

Studying the transient population, Daria could see what Jane meant. The place felt like everywhere.

And also nowhere.



*********



The rain stopped by the time they left the cornerclub. Dark clouds fled at the rays of setting sun, red as blood in the west. The air was clean at least, no longer heavy with that doused campfire smell that usually hung over Balmora.

"I should probably get home," Daria said. "It was nice meeting you."

"Sure."

"Do you live around here?"

"My brother and I rent an apartment in Labor Town, not far from the Odai."

"Okay. I'm in the Commercial District. My mother—"

Daria paused as a familiar, high-pitched voice made itself heard over the chatter of the late afternoon traffic.

"... pastel yellow is so in right now! Everyone in Cyrodiil is wearing it."

The sight of Quinn's red hair, so bright and bold in the drab streets, confirmed it.

"Everything all right?" Jane asked.

"See that redhead over there?"

"The overdressed one?"

"Yeah. That's my sister," Daria said. "Overdressing is what she does."

Quinn walked with a quartet of Dunmer girls her age, all of them garbed in robes stitched with elaborate abstract patterns. They listened intently as Quinn neared the door of the cornerclub next to the Lucky Lockup.

"You said she's your sister?" Jane's voice tightened.

"Yes—"

"Daria, just trust me on this."

Jane bolted toward Quinn. The younger Morgendorffer didn't notice until Jane jammed her booted feet into a muddy puddle right next to her. Daria distinctly saw her new friend kick the filthy water right onto Quinn's gown before running off toward the riverbank crowd.

The resulting screech could probably be heard throughout the entire province.

Quinn looked down at her ruined yellow dress, and then to her friends. And then her eyes locked on Daria.

"You! This is your doing, isn't it!"

Daria just blinked, too confused to react.

"Come, Lady Morgendorffer," said one of the Dunmer girls. "We can get you cleaned up inside—"

"No! I can't be seen like this—I have to go! You can blame my... my cousin over there!"

Quinn stormed off with her face buried in her hands, her wailing audible at some distance until the silt strider repeated its lonely call. The Dunmer girls who'd been walking with her simply shrugged and walked away.

"What the hell was that?" Daria demanded.

She hurried toward the river market. Her supposed friend was still there, tightly gripping the fabric of her thin red coat.

"What was that all about?" Daria demanded. "Normally I'm thrilled when someone takes Quinn down a peg, but what did she do to you?"

Jane exhaled. "Nothing. I was doing that for her, not to her."

Daria hesitated. She sensed this was serious. "Okay, I'm listening. But I don't know if I can forgive you for temporarily rousing my long-dormant big sister instinct."

"Your sister was about to step into the Council Club. That's not a place for outlanders."

"So what? It's too special for some dirty Imperial to visit?" Maybe Jane wasn't as open-minded as she'd seemed.

"No, dammit! You aren't listening! That's where the Cammona Tong meet. They. Do. Not. Like. Outlanders. People disappear there, Daria. And whoever those friends of Quinn's were? They knew that. You need to tell her not to spend time with them."

Daria shivered in spite of her thick robe. Only now did she realize how far from Cyrodiil she really was.

"Thank you. Is Quinn in danger?"

"Maybe. Now that I think about it, the Cammona Tong would've probably just thrown her out. Even they wouldn't be bold enough to kill some Imperial teenager who wandered in. But you do not want to cross the people in the Council Club. Being an Imperial—or acting like one—won't always be enough to save your hide out here."

Jane had been smart about it, Daria realized. Quinn would have never listened to a warning from a total stranger, not when she was trying to impress her friends. Thus, best to make it look like an accident or a prank.

"I'd better get home and talk to her. Will I see you at school tomorrow?" Daria asked.

"That's the plan. Take care."

Daria hurried up the street, wondering how she was going to fix the damage.



*********



Daria returned home to find her mother, Helen, seated at the office, still poring over a stack of documents. Mom had spared no effort in ensuring that her base of operations befitted a legal advocate trained in the time-honored Imperial ways. Tomes and scrolls filled the polished rosewood bookshelves, and not so much as a speck of dust dared touch the flagstone floor. Candles burned in the small marble shrine to Julianos embedded onto the far wall, the god's symbol of a triangle over an open scroll recreated in a mosaic above a basin filled with scented water.

Mom did not look up from her work. Her scribe, a young Breton woman named Marianne, smiled and nodded at Daria's entry.

"I need to talk to my mother," Daria said, quietly.

"How important is this, Daria?" mom replied, still not looking up. "I'm up to my ears in cases from the local merchants! Honestly, I don't know why they think Imperial law will protect them from bad local investments!"

"Potentially very important."

That time, mom paid attention. She knew the tone of voice.

"Marianne, you can head home for the day. It's almost night, anyway," mom said.

Once Marianne left, Daria explained the situation. Her mother's face turned white as soon as she mentioned the Cammona Tong.

"Quinn!" mom shouted. "Get down here this instant!"

Even Quinn's footsteps sounded sulky as she descended the staircase. "What's wrong?"

"Were you at the Council Club today?" mom demanded.

Quinn's expression changed to one of calculating innocence. "Of course not, mother! I was studying—"

"I'm serious!"

She pouted. "Okay, fine! I was! But I made a really nice friend named Synda, and she wanted to show me around!"

"I don't want you spending time with this Synda!"

"Why not?"

"Listen to me, Quinn. There are some very bad people in Balmora, and they run the Council Club. It's a dangerous place for people like us."

"What? The only danger I was in was from that weird girl who was with Daria! She completely ruined my dress!"

"Jane did you a favor," Daria said.

Mom reached out and grasped Quinn's shoulders. "I need you to understand something: we are very, very far away from the emperor's light right now. Balmora is mostly a safe place, but there are dangers for people like us. I forbid you from going to strange cornerclubs."

"But mom! This is just some prank that Daria—"

"Daria, that goes for you as well."

Daria blinked. "What did I do?"

"Nothing, but restricting you both is impartial and it's common sense. Girls your age have no business being in sketchy taverns. Maybe when you're married and established professionals, but not now!"

Quinn drew back, eyes already filling with her on-call tears. "I hope you know you've ruined my social life!"

She spun around on her heels and stormed up the stairs. Mom leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples.

"Where's dad?" Daria asked. "He should know about this too."

"Late night for him, they're having a networking session in High Town." She sighed. "I did not think living here would be so difficult."

"Wait, hold on. Why can't I go to cornerclubs?" Daria asked. "It's not like Jane's going to lure me into some seedy den and rob me. Well, she won't rob me at any rate."

"Like I said, it's not a good look. And as foreigners we are under scrutiny. I don't want the Dunmer to think Imperial girls are a bunch of cavorting hedonists! If you absolutely must go somewhere, I'll allow you and Quinn to visit Eight Plates, so long as you have an adult chaperone."

Daria crossed her arms. "I see. And I suppose you'd be giving me the same talk if I were your son?"

"I don't make the rules, Daria. I just try and live by them."

"Yes, because following rules is the best way to get them changed."

"I'm not in the mood right now. What's important is that you keep an eye on your sister."

Sighing, Daria nodded. "I will."

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Apr 16 2022, 04:33 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

@ Acadian - Daria definitely made the right call(s).

@ SubRosa - Nah, retrieving the ring would just be the first tedious step in a long string of them, all required to get so much as a recommendation letter.

Good catch on the map! Unfortunately, I think I'll have to renew my Inkarnate account to fix that. Sorry for the mix-up.

Daria's my favorite show, but there's no denying that it was very much a product of its time, and not always in the best ways. I try to address those issues a bit better in my own fanwork. Plus, Mrs. Johannsen is pretty boring on her own, so I almost can't resist doing something more interesting with her.

@ Renee - Thanks for reading! I actually never thought about that for Skyrim, but you do bring up a good point. Just how common is magic? If it's frequent enough, it starts to take the place of modern convenience. There's actually a good AD&D campaign setting called Eberron which revolves around that. Basically, there's tons of magic and magical items, which means the overall lifestyle is more like the 1920s than the 1220s. But I digress.

Writing this, I did want to focus heavily on how life would be for regular people. So yeah, elements like where outlanders would or wouldn't fit in were very much on my mind.

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 6

"So everything went smoothly with Johanna? And the ring?"

Hetheria's breath reeked of booze, though she otherwise seemed sober.

"No trouble at all. I just knocked on the door and pretended to be raising funds for the Imperial Cult."

Hetheria laughed. "Did she slam the door in your face? 'Cause that's what I'd have done!"

More than anything, she wanted to slap Hetheria. Daria had seen death before. She remembered the first time, a pale and bloated fisherman's corpse that had washed up on the beach when she was about three or four years old. Drowning, dad had said. Deliberate death was new to her, however. The dead Dunmer's frozen face would be another memory she'd never totally escape.

"Not before I was able to take a reading." She handed the ring over to Hetheria.

Daria had gone to the local Tribunal temple before coming back. Jane had told her that the temple ran an enchantment service, mostly to bless items with healing magic. Being under the Tribunal protected the priests from guild interference. Daria had asked them to check the ring because she knew better than to trust Johanna. Who knew what kind of enchantment she'd actually put on the ring? For that matter, how good a job had Johanna done? Daria wanted to be sure that neither Hetheria nor Athrys would find out about the deception.

Fortunately, the Dunmer enchanter at the temple had said nothing was out of the ordinary. So far as he could tell, it was a ring designed to detect other enchanted items, had been used exactly once, and had not found any signs of arcane usage.

She hoped he knew what he was talking about.

"Thanks!" Hetheria said. "See, that wasn't so hard was it?"

"Maybe not hard, but I don't enjoy being used like that."

"Well, get used to it. That's how guilds operate."

That was all Daria needed. "Which is why I quit," she said, standing up.

She knew she'd made the right choice as soon as she spoke. Hetheria's startled expression was simply an extra reward.



*********



Daria didn't tell mom the whole truth. Instead, she said that the guild had stuck her in a dark room to do busywork and that she'd quit before having any more of her time wasted.

Mom didn't get as angry as she would have if she'd learned the whole sordid story. But she definitely did get angry.

The ringing in Daria's ears had not yet subsided by dusk. She sat on the tiny balcony space outside of her room, watching the sun fade into the west. It was still mid-afternoon back home in Stirk, where the sails of docked ships rippled in a cool ocean breeze.

Daria heard footsteps, followed by the door opening and closing. She sensed her mother's presence next to her.

"Lovely evening, isn't it," mom said, her voice subdued.

"Perfect for platitudes." Daria didn't really want to talk to her. Except she did. She wanted to explain what really happened.

Maybe that way mom would understand how hard it was to network in this place.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I shouldn't have."

Daria shrugged and made a noncommittal sound, pretending to be very interested in the empty roof next door.

"You know, the Mages Guild might take you back if you wait a while."

"I'm not going back there," Daria said.

"Hm. I had a feeling you'd say that. And you don't have to go back. But where are you going to go?"

"I was thinking about this," Daria said. "Jane gets by as an artist. I could do something similar as a freelance scribe or writer."

"Jane barely gets by."

Daria turned to look at her mother, annoyed. "How can you say that?"

"I'm not criticizing her. She works very hard. Her life isn't an easy one, however."

"So? I'm not afraid of some hard work," Daria protested. And at least as a freelancer she wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of annoying coworkers.

"Freelancers have to do busywork, too. Not to mention network with clients. Being part of a guild, on the other hand, creates opportunities and gives direction. Spend enough time there and you can get a secure job that offers flexibility and respect. I suppose you could try joining Hlaalu. There are a few high-ranking outlanders there. But I don't imagine you'd enjoy their company."

"I wouldn't. All of the factions here just want you to play their endless games of social one-upmanship and networking. It's like Morrowind was made for Quinn."

"It is what it is, Daria. You need to find a way to survive and contribute. I can offer suggestions, but I can't decide for you. You'll need to think about how you want to make your way in the world."

Mom turned around and headed back into the house. Night had almost fallen, and the stars smoldered in the sun's final rays.



*********



Daria woke up before the rest of the family. No need to be in Drenlyn that day, which meant she'd help out at mom's office.

But she had something else she needed to do first.

The damp and gray morning promised rain, so Daria donned her new bug-shell hat. She spent a few minutes balancing the oversized green shell, finally tying together the chin strap to keep it in place.

She retraced her steps back to Labor Town. Thick and scattered raindrops splashed against the flagstones once she crossed the Odai and picked up in intensity the deeper in Labor Town she got. The morning crowds bent their heads under the lashing rain. Water splashed onto her dress and rain soaked her sleeves, but the hat kept her head dry. Thunder rumbled from beyond the rocky hills to the east.

Daria walked to Johanna's door but hesitated before knocking. It might be better to leave well enough alone. Who could say how Johanna might react to seeing her again?

The door opened, revealing a smiling Johanna who looked much recovered after the other day's incident.

"Well! I didn't expect to see you here again! Come on in."

"Thanks."

Johanna's house didn't look all that remarkable when viewed through calm eyes. Just another modest Labor Town home with rough wooden furniture and threadbare rugs, all conveniently void of bloodstains. The corpse was long gone, and Daria decided not to ask how Johanna had disposed of it.

"You can take off that hat if you want," Johanna said. She walked over to an enormous wooden stool and settled down on it.

Daria marveled at the immensity of Johanna's arms, which looked heavy enough to break through the wall if she applied any real force.

"That's okay," Daria said. "I'm not going to spend much time here. I came here to let you know that the plan worked. The guild doesn't think you use magic."

"That's awfully considerate of you."

"Don't get too excited," Daria warned. "They could still be investigating you. But I quit the guild, so it's not my problem anymore."

"Doesn't surprise me. Bright young thing like you doesn't need what they have to offer, no ma'am."

"I'm not sure it was that bright of me to quit," Daria admitted, "but it's already done." She took a deep breath. "I've been trying to figure out why you're selling magical services from outside the guild."

Johanna chuckled. "Well you worked there. You think I want to deal with that nonsense?"

"I'm sure that nonsense can't be worse than dodging guild surveillance. Maybe you're just too cheap to pay the dues, but given how you killed your assailant with magic the other day, I'd say you're skilled enough to earn decent money. Which leaves one other option."

Her rocky face broke into a self-satisfied smile. "You are a clever one. Say it."

"You're with Great House Telvanni."

"And proud of it! Of course, I'm sure you ain't dumb enough to tell anyone else that."

"I know enough to keep my head on my shoulders," Daria said. "I've heard the Telvanni are pretty xenophobic toward non-Dunmer. Why would they accept a human like you?"

Or like me, she thought.

"Xenophobic? Oh, come on, girl, you should know better than to listen to what the Hlaalu say! Sure, there were some Telvanni Dunmer who called me outlander and n'wah when I started out." She grinned. "Not too many of them are still breathing!"

Johanna raised her head and laughed, the sound booming in the enclosed space. Her body still shook with mirth as she quieted down, her face red.

"The Telvanni respect talent and power. It's not like here where you have to make nice with every spoiled noble's son," she said.

"That does sound pretty tempting," Daria said.

"Are you interested?" Johanna's expression turned serious. "It's a lifetime commitment. Your magic skills aren't up to snuff, so you'll have to do a lot of work on those—a lot more than you'd have to do at the guild. But I think you'll learn quick. Maybe I can teach you a few tricks. You won't have to deal with Imperial red tape, neither!"

"Except Telvanni lands are still under Imperial jurisdiction," Daria said.

"Don't be naïve, girl. Sure, the wizard lords bowed their heads to the emperor, but he holds no real power in our lands. We're too far away. And the Empire's grip gets weaker by the day."

It might be true. It might not.

Johanna kept going. "When you're Telvanni, you're free. You can do whatever you want as long as you have the smarts and strength to back it up. You have the smarts—I can tell—and you'll get stronger. Survive long enough and you can grow your own sadrith tower and tell the world to go to hell. You'll be free from nobles, free from guilds. Free from gods!"

The hair on the back of Daria's neck stood up. Johanna hadn't been joking about that last bit. Scary, but it sounded like Daria. No social niceties, just the pursuit of her passions.

She imagined her own domain in the fungal wastelands of the east, one forged through her intelligence and unmarred by nepotism or networking.

Then she thought back to her conversation with Jane the previous week, the disgust her friend had shown in regards to the Telvanni lords.

"Free to use annoying people as test subjects for arcane experiments?" Daria asked.

"If that's what you're into, sure." Johanna sounded like a salesman.

And what if Daria was that annoying person to someone else? What if Hetheria had simply had the power to obliterate her for disobedience?

"Well, thanks," Daria said. "But I'm not sure I'm at the point in my life where I'm comfortable making that decision."

Johanna held up a hand. "Joining a great house is a big choice and you don't want to make it before you're ready. Now, I can't stay in Balmora much longer, but I do owe you a favor and I take that sort of thing seriously. So if you ever find yourself in Sadrith Mora, ask for me. I got a place where you can stay and can help you meet some interesting people. The offer to join Great House Telvanni is open as long as I'm around."

"Thank you. Truly. But I should get back to my parents."

"All right then. Thanks for paying me a visit. Take care now, you hear?"

Daria emerged into the driving rain, the drops drumming on her hat. She'd never join the Telvanni, she knew. But it'd be unwise of her to burn any more bridges.

Hungry for breakfast, she set off for home.

Musical Outro - The Ladies of the Woods, The Witcher 3 OST

The End

To be continued in Episode 6: The Artist's I