BOOK I: REGENERATION
Chapter 1
“Were the Greater Beings the masters of the entire world, or did the humbler creatures have the strength to forge their own destinies?”
- From Azura and the Box
1 Morning Star, 450, 2E
Among the most notable aspects of Dunmeri politics is the place of the Great Houses. There are many houses, but only three Great Houses of note: Redoran, Telvanni, and Hlaalu. These houses are the remnants of the tribalism that had been a common feature of the Dunmer people before their prophet Veloth led them away from the Summerset Isles, far away from the Altmer and their opposition to the worship of the Daedra. These tribes took portions of the land for themselves, and over time, as the economy flourished and the Dunmer began to advance in culture and science, these tribes were transformed into family-run houses that had great influence in the affairs of state. The Redoran were known for their warriors, the Telvanni for their mages, and the Hlaalu for, among other things, their pragmatism.
The realm of the House Hlaalu rested on the western portion of Morrowind, flanked by House Redoran’s domain to the north, and the kingdom of the Nords to the northwest. In the darker days of the past, when the Dunmer had been fair skinned and known as Chimer (“the Changed Ones”), the Nords had used this land to push through and enslave the Mer who dwelled within the region. This included the mysterious Dwemer, those creatures of short stature who were known for their great mechanics and engineering, and whose mines and ruins still dot across Tamriel even up until this time. Together, the Dwemer and Chimer had pushed out the Nords, and peace, for a while, had settled in the land.
Eventually the Chimer would go to war with the Dwemer, and this would lead to many events: the disappearance of the Dwemer, the darkening of the Chimer into the Dunmer, and the rise of the Tribunal with their three “living gods.” For now, however, the Hlaalu were happy in their lands, resting on the borders of Morrowind, and living, for the most part, peacefully. Those events surrounding the war with the Dwemer were, for now, a distant memory, known only in the history books and those old enough to remember them.
On the very bottom of Hlaalu territory, in the province of Narsis, was the head of the household. This was Grandmaster Nethyn, of Hlaalu blood and a mere 70-years old (a youth in Dunmeri years, for Mer live much longer than Men). He was, by all accounts, an average ruler: he did not abuse his power nor use it against his peers, and yet he ruled as he saw fit, rather than according to any code of ethics or morality. He was fairly well known for his love of money, so much so that some courtiers privately joked that the scales in the House’s crest were representing how much gold Nethyn had in his coffers versus how much he secretly desired. In regards to religious affairs, he had actually received training as a priest of the order of the Tribunal Temple, and adhered to the faith of the “living gods” known collectively as ALMSEVI and individually as Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec. He was knowledgeable in the rituals of the Temple, and knew the lives of some Dunmeri saints, but he was far from a master theologian.
At this moment, within his main compound in Narsis, Nethyn sat in his grandmaster chair, his legs crossed with his head leaning casually against his fisted right hand. His red eyes looked nonchalantly across the long table, facing the various advisers of his personal council, who were busy chatting busily among themselves. Nethyn was quite comfortable in his chair, which many grandmasters of the Hlaalu house had sat on before. It was made of fine quality wood, and had plush cushions where one would sit down and where one would lay their back. Comfort of the chair, however, did not always ensure comfort for the situations involving the chair.
As might have been suggested by previous details, a meeting was being held - one of many during his rule - to discuss the affairs of the house. There was some concern about the next Grandmaster after Nethyn, as many of the nobles in the house were beginning to support Nethyn’s kinsman, Ethes of Padani. Ethes was of Nethyn’s blood through another line that had separated long ago, and was currently muthsera of the region for which he was known.
“There is little faith in your son, if you will forgive the bluntness, grandmaster,” said Vatollio, Nethyn’s chancellor, “Ethes is known as a mighty warrior, and capable in battle, while your son Evos is…well, mundane.”
Nethyn nodded, though he did not change his facial expression, nor did he shift his body. He did, however, calmly reply:
“Is there any immediate threat to our realm’s stability?”
“Well, no...I suppose not.”
Now, Nethyn sat up straight, placing both hands on his lap, “Then I shall not worry about it for now. Our house has dealt with worse matters before. What of the treasury?”
“A modest income,” said Eldrar, Nethyn’s steward and Muthsera of Thir, “not as much as the Dris, I am afraid.”
“That is only because the Dris are utilizing their neighbors,” Nethyn said with a hint of sarcasm. The House of Dris was well known for their corruption and willingness to make a few extra coins...even if it meant taking part in the slave trade. Khajit and Argonian innocents were their common targets, and with the Dris demesne resting on Argonian borders, there was an endless supply. For now, however, Nethyn did not want to bother with them - they were far away, on the eastern side of Morrowind, and they were of no concern to the grandmaster. Instead, he put his mind to other things:
“Has His Majesty replied to my letter?”
“Actually, yes,” Vatollio replied, taking from a stack of parchments one piece of paper that curled slightly at opposite ends, showing that it had formerly been rolled up, “and he has actually accepted.”
“Did he, now?” Nethyn said, his voice raising to show a slight hint of surprise. “I did not think he would accept.”
The conversation regarded High King Rythe, the ruler of Morrowind and all Dunmeri provinces (though the Temple no doubt would have contested that). He was well regarded by most of the nobility, as he came from the noble House of Indoral, and hence a descendent of the Chimer hero Indoril Nerevar, and had ruled fairly well for quite a while. He was, however, well known for preferring to remain behind his walls, in the comfort of his chambers, while his court and officers did most of the work that had to be done. Nethyn had offered Rythe to go with him to a pilgrimage to Vvardenfell, to perform the act required of most Dunmeri males during their lifetime. It would require visiting the city of Vivec, recounting the journey of the Tribunal before they ascended to godhood, and becoming connected with the history of the people.
And, surprisingly enough, Rythe had chosen to go along on this journey.
“Is everything prepared, then?” Nethyn continued.
“Yes,” Vatollio replied, “I have already told my men to prepare for their stay here. You can trust that I will run your household as well as you do.”
Nethyn was not quite sure what to make of that comment, as there seemed to be something darker under that surface, but he let it slide.
“Very well, then if there is nothing else, let this gathering be dismissed. The Blessed ALMSIVI guide you all.”
As most of the council members began to gather their items, Nethyn rose from the grandmaster’s chair and moved along the table towards one council member in particular. It was Athyn Merosid, the court priest. He wore the robes of the Temple, but otherwise did not stand out among his fellow courtiers, unlike so many priests. As Nethyn approached him, the grandmaster put his hands behind his back and asked:
“Athyn, you have been to Vvardenfell, have you not?”
The court priest nodded, “Yes, grandmaster. I studied at the city of Vivec itself.”
“Tell me of it - what is it truly like?”
Athyn pursed his lips, his red eyes darting about the floor as if he would find the right words among their feet. After a moment, he finally replied, “It is a conundrum of a place. On the one hand, it’s the most holy site in the world, with the Shrines of the Seven Graces scattered about. On the other hand, I have never encountered a bigger den of thievery, chaos, and death. The ashstorms are deadly, and if a hostile Ashlander does not kill you in the wild, then a bandit will.”
Nethyn nodded, listening quietly, asking after the court priest had finished, “And what of the Ashlanders?”
“Savage people, really,” Athyn said, his red eyes rolling a bit as if the memory of them filled him with all kinds of negative emotions, “the usual tripe of those who want to stay with the ‘old ways.’ On the surface, they look as you and I do, but on the inside, they are far from it. I would avoid them, if I were you. They are fairly friendly if you leave them alone, but they have a deep sense of honor, and they believe that we are followers of false gods.”
“I have vaguely heard of their beliefs,” Nethyn began, “something of a...Nerevarine?”
Athyn nodded, “Yes, the supposed reincarnation of Indoril Nerevar, whom the Ashlanders accuse the ALMSIVI - blessed be their names - of killing in order to obtain their immortality. In a way, I must admit I have pity for them, as they’re clearly under the sway of the Four Corners.” Athyn’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had remembered something, and he held up a hand to Nethyn and said, “I just remembered, I happen to have a spare copy of
The Pilgrim’s Path in my personal library. I shall have my servants send it to you - I think it will be proper reading material for you on your journey. The Temple made it specifically for those going on pilgrimages.”
Nethyn smiled, “I would appreciate that. Thank you, Athyn. Take care of yourself.”
Athyn nodded and dismissed himself, folding his papers under his thick sleeve and departing out the door. The grandmaster continued to watch him leave until he had disappeared, and then turned to face the chair he had earlier sat in. He began to quietly think to himself, especially about all Athyn had told him. In truth, Nethyn was rather ignorant of the specific details of the Ashlander beliefs, although he knew that they accused the Tribunal of evil and still worshiped Daedra. How they could ever hold such beliefs was beyond Nethyn...but when he arrived at Vvardenfell, he could perhaps find out.