[b] Stormhold, Blackmarsh 21st of Midyear High King of the Aldmeri Dominion Aelid, Ruler of Alinor.[/b] Aelid did not like Black marsh, and he thought the land disliked him. Since docking in the fairly sized coastal city of the region, their host of mer and horses had faced nothing but large insects, inhospitable temperature, and a plethora of other environmental disasters. He had sat upon his horse for what felt an eternity, idly swatting at the flying pests that the young king swore were after his royal blood in specific. The young Altmer was relieved to see Stormhold through a brief opening in the canopy of foliage overhead though, and knew within the hour they would be at the gates. Dobin walked next to him, holding the reigns of his horse. His armor of silver and Elven smith stood a stark contrast in these lands. The young king looked about to the host of Altmer among him, and his eyes fell upon the High Justicar. Once the two made eye contact, it was almost as if they had both been waiting. “You know that what happens in this council will decide the fate of our people, my liege?” The Thalmor Officer spoke with a stone cold voice, but Aelid knew better. Behind her xenophobia and bigotry, Aldra too had parents who loved her, and friends who cared for her wellbeing. Behind her hatred and fury was a child’s fear. “I do. That is why I intend for this council meeting to go well.” Aelid forced a smile, and though it was charming, it was not genuine. The High Justicar relaxed a little, flashing a hint of a smile. He knew that many of the Altmer must be strained and stressed after the recent problems in the Dominion, and Aelid could only hope the reinforcements sent to Valenwood would be sufficient. The party made their way to the gates, and the Altmer noticed both the Imperial Architecture and the uniquely Argonian craftsmanship as well. The place had slick, dark walls and none of the damned foliage he dislike of southern black marsh.Yet as they entered the gates of the city, Aelid found a Argonian dressed as nearly as brightly as his Kingsguard. The high elf admired the gleam of his glass cuirass, and the cape was the exact same length as the Order’s, barely brushing behind as you walked. The Argonian looked important, and the Altmer approached him. “Greetings to you, native of the marsh. I am High King Aelid of the Aldmeri Dominion. I have travelled a very long ways with my guard, and would seek food and refuge until the morn. We have come bearing gifts, to honor your people.” Aelid clapped his gloved hands together, and two Altmer stepped through the crowd, each carrying one side of a large chest. It appeared heavy and awkward, and they set it down with only slight difficulty before the Argonian. “Inside you would find fabrics and silks unseen anywhere else in Nirn other than the Summerset Isles, it is very comfortable and catches the light. The rich crimsons and vibrant emeralds of the swirling colors may bring some optimism to such a dark region…” Aelid chuckled lightly and looked around once more as he dismounted, and thought to himself one simply couldn’t argue that this WAS a dark place. [b]Alinor, Summerset Isles, Almderi Dominion 21 of Midyear Lord Regant Orthos of Alinor, Admiral of the Royal Fleet.[/b] Orthos stood in the Throne Room of the Palace, and paced back and forth with parchment clutched tightly in his fist. Near him stood three other Altmer, one of them a mere messenger boy, the other a Thalmor officer, the last was The High Queen. “A Legate would dare send a letter such as this to our King Aelid!” Spat the Thalmor official angrily, his fury giving his words a potent sting. It was clear this news would spread throughout the Isles quickly, and enrage many of the Royal Class by the Insolence of this Barus. “Do these stupid men really believe they could invade Alinor, anyhow? Fools! They shall all go to watery graves!” The Thalmor continued on, his brow knit angrily. Several people quickly skirted through the throne room, obviously on important business. The Lord Regant, looking for a distraction, called the small group, and quickly found they were in Mage’s Robes. “And what presence in the Aldmeri Palace do you lot have?” Orthos asked politely. “We are from the Arcane Society, Lord Regant. We we’re sent by our Arch-Mage to come to Library here and find a specific book about the lunar cycle. I’m afraid we’ve been sworn to secrecy for now on the subject, but we plan on aiding the Dominion greatly very soon.” The leader of this small pack, a young Altmer with silver eyes spoke proudly. Orthos was intrigued by this, but the irritated Thalmor brought him back to the task at hand. “I see. Well, take what you need. I would also have you go see the Quartermaster, and report to him any requirements of obstacles you face in your experiment.” Orthos said seriously and with a nod, excusing the group. The lad nodded and thanked the Lord Regant, before scuttling away. Orthos sighed and collapsed onto the Throne of the Dominion, and looked once more at the letter. The Lord Regant slowly began to smile as his eyes flicked across the parchment once more. “The only thing I don’t understand is that they would ask we keep our Royal Fleet to a quarter the size of the Imperial one. Yet even being outmatched Four to One, I could still keep those damned Imperials out of our Harbors.” He smiled slyly at his own compliment, and saw even the Queen appreciated his humor. It appeared the Thalmor did not. “You think this a laughing matter? The Imperials are right. They rally all of Tamriel to their banner, and while we may be superior they number too great!” The Thalmor was near indignant now, furious both at the Empire and at Orthos. Yet Orthos seemed cool and calm, and turned to the courier boy. “Courier, pen a message to be delivered to The Empire. Tell them what we think of their treaty.” Orthos then turned his attention back to the Thalmor. “And what care is it of mine their number? If every Altmer dies having killed a dozen Imperials, I will have considered it a victory, regardless their number. Tell me, Officer. .. Would you say the Emperor has truly beaten us, if he beats us only by drowning us in the blood of his men?” [b]Frontlines of Valenwood Conflict 23rd of Midyear Courier[/b] Rain pours down on Valenwood as what seems like endless numbers of bosmer hide away in what also appears to be endless trees. The Altmer jogs quickly along a forest trail, and is alone. He knows multiple sets of eyes watch him, but realized a while back on the path that if they wanted to kill him, they would have by now. He would reach the Imperial Camp without issue, and hand over a scroll bearing the official seal not only of the Aldmeri Dominion, but of the High King of Alinor as well. It would read thus; “Legate Barus of the Imperial Legion, The High King Aelid has left the Summer Isles, and as such, the Lord Regant handles only Royal Affairs. Npw, while I hope you find our relatives forest home comfortable, I cannot say I believe you will be residing their long. Not only is the Emperor too cowardly to even write to Aelid himself, but I found the terms of your treaty both laughable and dull. I would swear to you, that upon the return of the Thalmor to Valenwood, I personally shall take your head for this insult. Best Wishes, Lord Regant Orthos of Alinor." [b]Actions: -Royal Host has reached Stormhold! -The Arcane Society is receiving both Mercantile and Royal Funding now! -Letter to the Legate[/b]