You finally emerge from the darkness of the storm drains into a sunny afternoon—the first real sunlight light after weeks in a cell whose bars were long obstructed by grime and debris. It's so bright to be blinding, forcing you to pause to adjust, and think about how different it was to be out now. Days spent fleeing through old passages and older caves, first trying to scramble by and avoid alerting every goblin in the area, and later with the Emperor and his dwindling cadre of bodyguards.

An Emperor that was no longer amongst the living, his final request a very physical weight against your body. A single, crystalline amulet, warm and humming even through the cloth Baurus had hastily wrapped it in, hiding it as best as possible before tasking you with conveying it to its rightful owner. This, perhaps, is the one guarantee that the dark, dank underground was real, out in the humid warmth of the Nibenay Basin.

As your eyes recover, you can make out a robed figure standing just ahead, the waves of Lake Rumare lapping against the hem. Was this it, then? Had the assassins found you already, beaten you through the winding paths out of the city? No: your eyes adjust more, and it's clear that this isn't the heavy, red robes the assassins had been wearing, rather the faded and travel-worn ensemble of a travelling hedge mage or simple conjurer, its original colours long faded to muted greys and browns.

This stranger was tall—obviously of high elf descent, her skin a burnished bronze far darker than the usual high elf. Perhaps part dark elf? The silver-white braid wasn't any better a clue. And as she steps closer, it's clear that even for such an elf she's abnormally tall and lean, almost impossibly tall for a man or mer. Yet more imposing than the height is her eyes, almost-glowing shards of blue glass that fix you in place.

"You aren't who I was expecting to meet here. The Emperor, perhaps… or failing that, one of his guards. None have entered in weeks, which means… tell me, what leads you to flee the city this way? Your attire seems… ragged." The stranger's voice is sharp, and even if she weren't armed—the sword belted at her hip is unmistakeable, and of finer make than anything you've seen the city watch carrying, and that's not counting the staff—you've met more than enough magical cultists and even goblin shamans over the past weeks for the robes to be a warning of their own.

@VitaVitaAR

... It's bright.

It's hard to really explain how bright it is. It's something I hadn't really prepared for after scrambling in the darkness. I'm drenched in sweat, and probably other things as well. I'm sure there's plenty of red stains on my ragged clothing.

---It doesn't really make sense how I got here. That mistake that imprisoned me in the first place was just a mess, to be honest, the sort of thing that never should have happened and yet unfortunately did.

But things have changed so drastically, so quickly.

The Emperor came before me. The Emperor died before me.

And he left it behind, the crimson, warm gem wrapped in cloth. The unmistakable Amulet of Kings.

It doesn't make sense. It truly, truly doesn't.

But I'm here. There's been far too much reality to claim it's a mere dream.

The stains on the edge of my dagger are certainly, abundantly, very real.

And so is this person standing before me. I'm glad she's not one of those assassins, even if I wasn't about to simply let her have her way if she was.

To be honest, she's someone far more worrying then that. I have no idea what kind of elf she is. Half high elf, half dark, maybe? Possibly? But I'm not sure if that even makes sense looking at her now. It feels like she's trying to look through me, too.

---She's definitely not one of the assassins. She's far, far more dangerous than that.

That blade on her hip is something I only vaguely recognize, a weapon far surpassing anything that any warrior I've ever seen could hope to wield. The staff, too, makes it eminently clear that it's not just a blade I'd have to worry about---

If she wants to kill me, it's going to happen. I hate admitting it to myself, but there's no way I'd survive if she wanted to simply end my life.

But she's not doing so.

She's clearly here to meet the Emperor. Well, I have bad news for her if that's the case. Bad news for everyone.

I don't know what to say. I can't exactly just blurt out that the Emperor is dead, can I? I can barely even grasp that fact myself.

"... There's..."

I take a deep breath.

"---Th-the Emperor is... no longer... around."

---Brilliant. Excellent way to try and explain what's going on, Vivienne. Truly, you are a mistress of words, skilled in delivering vital information gently, carefully, and with discretion.

"Then the Emperor is dead, and the Dragonfires lie unlit for the first time since the Interregnum," the elf surmises, tearing her gaze from you and affixing her gaze to the tower rising over the city behind. As she thinks this news over, the weight of her attention being removed is a relief—before it flicks back, cold and heavy as ever. "Still, then, there is some time before the Daedra are free to interfere, even with the events of Red Mountain…"

Her proclamation is ominous, along with confusing. How could a far-off location and the Emperor's lack of an heir possibly tie back to the Daedra? But such is the nature of wizards, to know much and explain little, and she carries on without a break, her look decidedly more interrogative. "And what of you? You are manifestly not one of the Emperor's bodyguards, nor do you have the bearing of a spy, and a successful assassin would have left through the same means they arrived, not followed this route to its end."

Given that a cursory exploration would easily have showed that there was no way for the assassins to get in aside from this woman's assertion that nobody had entered in weeks—and the lack of evidence that they had been camping along the path, waiting for the Emperor's group to pass—it does seem likely that any successful assassin must have used some magical means to enter. And if they could get in that way, why not leave the same? It makes sense.

"So, one group or the other must have permitted your survival. But why?"

Well, it's not as if it wasn't obvious.

The mental image of the Emperor's death scrolls through my mind once more. To be honest, it seems like some sort of terrible illusion then anything. But I witnessed it, no doubt.

The Dragonfires hadn't even entered my mind until now. What's about to happen?

I shake my head, sucking in a deep breath and clearing my thoughts as much as I can manage. My survival---

Is there any point in trying to mislead her? She clearly knows everything that's already happened. Lying to her seems stupid more than anything.

I have to keep the Amulet of Kings safe, but dying here because I refuse to tell the truth doesn't help me do that.

I'm perfectly aware of what will happen if she attacks, but at least I can go down fighting if I have to.

I'd really rather not, though.

"---I... The Emperor's guard entrusted me with something precious. I have to deliver it."

I can't bring myself to be more direct. But at the same time, I'm certain she'll guess what it is that I'm carrying.

Once again, the elf wastes barely any time before concluding the truth of what happened down there. "The Chim-el Adibal? Or rather, the gem and its housing both; the Emperor entrusted you with bearing the Amulet of Kings."

Then she pauses, hand raised to her mouth in thought—but despite having identified your package and even your own wariness, she makes no move to attack or take it. "Strange, though, that the Emperor would entrust you with it. Tell me, have you tried wearing the amulet at all since you have received it?"

A curious question—Baurus' explanation after the Emperor's passing had been that supposedly only the Septims can wear the Amulet of Kings. But this strange mage seemed unaware of that, despite all else she had known, or perhaps she knew more of the matter than one of the Blades would to expect that you may have had more success after all.

Whatever your answer, it seems quite clear that the truth of your mission, to convey the amulet to the order's grandmaster and thus the hidden last Septim, is unlikely to remain secret for long.

I knew there was no point in trying to hide it.

Not with this strange elf seemingly knowing everything. I can't help but sigh a little to myself, though. I'd hoped that I could have kept it concealed, but there's really no hope of that with this lady, is there?

"Wh---"

Before I can speak, she asks a question that comes completely out of left field.

Putting it on?

Why would I ever try that? It's not as if I'm anything close to related to the Emperor. I don't even know who my parents were, but they certainly weren't nobility or even close to it. I can tell that much.

What would the point be in me attempting to wear the Amulet of Kings when only Septims can wear it?

"O-of course not," I reply, her question nearly setting me off balance not just mentally, but physically as well, "Why would I bother? Do I look like a Septim to you?"

Really---

Why would I even waste my time on it?

"Of course not," the woman sighs, looking like your answer actually pains her, "But even I know that the Imperial Cult still teaches enough history to know that the Amulet long predates the Septims. Before them, it was worn by the Reman emperors, and before that it was the regalia of the Empire of Cyrodiil. Ever since the death of—"

Realising the last name means nothing to you, the elf pauses in her lecture, stopping the pacing that she had stopped. "Paravant? Al-Esh? Ah… fine, to use the modern corruption of her titles, Alessia. The Amulet and the covenant it represents are a bond forged between Akatosh and Alessia, between the Dragon and Men. No single bloodline can lay claim to it; should a new line of the dragonborn be born, then the Amulet would be as much theirs.

"Of course, the Septims have had no interest in reminding the populace of the truth. Why would they? No ruler likes a usurper, especially not since the Simulacrum so recently… but now you know. Perhaps, to have arrived here at this time, you have been chosen," Another statement without an explanation. The stories about unhelpful mages are making more sense by the second, "Or perhaps you are indeed just a messenger. Although, if your hope is to convey something so valuable across the province or beyond…"

Once again she looks you up and down.

"Even if you stick to the highways for safety, you look as if you'd starve halfway to Bravil."

Well, she's right, but who aside from the Septims could lay claim to that capability in these modern times? It's not as if there's any Dragonborn running around willy-nilly at the moment---

It's mostly just a brief history/theology lesson. I guess whoever this elf is, she's really into that sort of thing. At least she's not trying to take the Amulet from me.

But, is she really suggesting... chosen? No, there's absolutely no way. It's by pure chance that I was there at the right time. Despite that, I have to fulfill the duty given to me. The stakes are so high I can barely wrap my mind around them, after all.

"I-I'm not that we-"

It's at this very moment that my stomach chooses to growl.

The elf continues to stare at you for a second, then sighs and... did she just reshape the ground into something resembling a bench? It was barely a gesture with the staff, but the loamy soil had risen up and hardened, giving her somewhere to sit down.

"Sit. I have supplies, and I'll be coming with you on your journey," she states, holding up a hand to forestall your objection as her other rummages around... in the air? A minute later she pulls out a pot, then some jerky, and then even some vegetables. "I have business with whoever wears the Amulet, and the roads are always safer when travelling together."

"Get some water from the lake and I'll get a fire going," she says, "We can introduce ourselves while this cooks, and plan the journey. Magical transport is out, not in these conditions."

"R... right..."

I can't say I've seen a huge amount of spells of that particular sort, but even if I had I don't think simply turning the earth into a chair is particularly common. Even less common is the ability to pull cooking equipment and food out of the air. Does she have some sort of invisible bag or something with her?

---This is all so much to deal with, in so short of a period of time. I want to say something to her, but honestly at this point I barely have the energy. I find myself somewhat numbly walking over to the lake to get water.

I'm not chosen. That much I'm sure of. I was just in the right place at the right time.

But I'm definitely hungry.

You return to find a small fire burning within an inscribed circle, and some carefully positioned rocks to prop the full pot on. As soon as the food goes in, the elf has reached into that not-space again and pulled out a bottle of wine. At least that is a fairly normal drink, though the smooth bottle and actual label suggests it's not the cheap, watered-down leftovers that get served throughout the Waterfront. She pauses, then pulls out a second one, handing the entire bottle over. "I don't have any cups."

"Now… I am Lannessa, and as you can obviously tell, I am a mage with some experience, particularly for travelling. If you have any destination in mind, and I'm sure you do, then the first challenge is crossing Lake Rumare. How best to do that rather depends where you need to head."

It I didn't know any better, I'd definitely be thinking this has to be some sort of strange, surreal dream at the moment. It honestly only keeps getting stranger. A bottle of expensive wine? Why not, at this point?

And yet no cups. It's not like I can be picky, or that I want to be, but downing a whole bottle of wine doesn't seem like a good plan when reality already feels like it's going to knock me off my feet.

Where did she get this, anyway? The bottle alone is like a an art piece. Not an incredibly expensive one, but as far as wine bottles go that would indicate a high price. It's definitely not the sort of thing the average tavern has at the ready, at least.

"E-er..." I take a deep breath. This is seriously overwhelming.

"Chorrol, I need to-erk," I shake my head. She introduced herself, and I should do so in kind, "Vivienne. My name is Vivienne."

"So, we could circle the Imperial City..." the elf starts, flicking her bottle open and taking a drink, "But that's a long enough walk on its own and highly visible. Or, we could just go straight through and hope the assassins aren't watching. I doubt they would recognise you, especially after some equipping."

She takes another drink and then looks out over the lake, "We could also cross the lake. There's no bridges up this side, but there should be boats and fishermen... or we can just walk over."

That statement alone is baffling. "I take it you have had no prior magical education?"

Did she just say what I thought she just said?

I pause for a moment, trying to process what I just heard. Certainly, magic can defy all sorts of expectations with the many ways in which it can be applied. But the fact she just casually mentioned walking over the lake---

I can't have heard that correctly, could I?

Obviously, the route over the lake would be the most direct possible path. There's no denying that. But until this very moment, I didn't think it was even within the realm of possibility.

To be honest, I still don't think it's within the realm of possibility.

"Er, I know some of the basics... enough to light a fire and heal some light injuries," I manage to respond, regardless. It's really only the most practical spells I was taught when I was helping around the forge. How to start a fire, and how to deal with light burns, cuts, or scrapes. I don't think I'm particularly stunning, but it is magic and it's something I can do.

"Excuse me, but did you say walk over?"

I had to have misheard her, right?

Lannessa nodded, leaning over to check the contents of the pot, "Walk over. There are numerous ways a learned mage might choose to allow themselves to walk on water, but the simplest are easily within reach of a novice in the school. As long as your magicka is sufficient, then we can cross the lake and follow the Red Ring Road."

The elf frowns as if the ''endurance'' aspect had escaped her notice. "Of course, as a magical novice, both your stamina and your attunement to aetherial energies may be too low to maintain this over the entire journey. A tutor, assuming they didn't insist you take a safer path, would recommend potions to compensate, but I don't have any. Maybe…"

You are treated to the sight of the elf searching through her robes for something, eventually producing a smooth palm-sized piece of blue-green glass, fixed inside a metallic lattice. "This is a Welkynd Stone. Ayleid creations, but getting them out of the ruins can be challenging, and their secrets have been almost entirely lost to the modern era."

She sits back with a smug expression, "Most mages only know how to feel the magicka within and draw it all at once, destroying the stone entirely. Of course, this destroys the stone, and they can do nothing with the excess. But I learned the secret to only taking as much as I need. The stone won't simply regenerate, but it at least isn't destroyed… and I'm sure a single stone like this is enough to take even the most inefficient novice across the lake."

I...

Isn't this all too much!?

What kind of day is this!? I've been imprisoned, the Emperor dies in front of me, I have to fight off far too much, and now this elf is telling me that hshe has that thing and we can walk on water because of it?!

Not to mention what I'm carrying---!

Have I woken up in some whole new reality, totally unrelated to the one I went to sleep in? Has the Prince of Madness somehow hopped into my head and twisted my perception of the world around me?

It's just one absurdity after another! So much has happened that the death of the Emperor before my eyes, what I had only just a little while ago thought was the most horrible and surreal thing I'd ever see, now feels almost distant.

I can't help but throw my hands into the air.

"Of course!"

"Excellent, we can work on it in the morning," the elf gives you a satisfied nod and then hides the stone away, attention returning to the pot, "It has been quite some time since I had an apprentice…"

For the rest of the cooking process, and all through dinner, she seems happy to leave you to your thoughts, sipping away at her own wine and gazing up at the clear night sky as if the stars have some hidden meaning to impart. From the Emperor's cryptic words within the escape route, it's entirely possible that they do, for someone learned enough.

Once the fire has burned to embers, it's time to get some sleep, and it's altogether unsurprising at this point that the elf can pull further camping supplies out of nowhere as she packs away the pot. It's generally safe, this close to the city, and the only thing making it difficult to sleep is how suddenly loud the wind is after weeks of still air; how big the sky is compared to low stone ceilings of smooth stone.

—

When the sun once again rises, you're unceremoniously prodded towards the lake shore and given what feels like an almost over-abbreviated introduction to alteration and, more importantly, water-walking. At least it's couched in terms that make some sense for your little practical experience.

The expectant gaze for you to follow her lead and step onto the lapping waters of the lake is only made heavier by the continuing absurdity of someone being able to walk on water. At least she wasn't joking about its possibility.