Index Librorum Prohibitorum Imperatum Tamrielis 4E 175

Item 1008

Cerwen Il?tèania, Lux draconis

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Foreword to the Combined Edition of Dragon’s Light, 4E 115


This is and has always been, first and foremost, a work of personal interest. In a real sense, I would not be here, had the Crisis never occurred. My father, an Altmeri minor noble, fled the ruins of the Crystal Tower and the rising threat of the Thalmor in Summerset, soon after the end of the Oblivion Crisis in 3E 433, or 4E 1, whichever dating one prefers. He ended up in the Imperial City, where he met my Breton mother. My mother lost all her kinfolk in the invasion, and that, too was how she ended up travelling to the City.

I grew to advlthood haunted by the memory of the Oblivion Crisis, hearing of the terrors of the daedric hordes. I still remember the scars of blood and fire on the walls of the City, left untouched for many years as people struggled to rebuild, and how my poor father could not speak of what he had witnessed without trembling, and how he never spoke of Emperor-saint Martin without the highest inflections of respect, nay, reverence.

As I sit here, writing these words, it so happens to be the 110th Festival of Dragon’s Light, which memorialises the sacrifice of the Lost Emperor, Saint Martin. Those of the Imperial City hold his memory in particular reverence, and the Nibenean tendency to celebrate important events and people with festival finds here its fullest expression. Now a massive and colourful affair, the Festival begins with the citizens going into ritual mourning the night before. All work ceases in the afternoon of the eve of the Festival, and the citizens symbolically lock and barricade themselves in their homes, in remembrance of the daedra invading and the brutalities that occurred. The only sounds to be heard are the church bells tolling. No fires except the ones at White Gold Tower and the rebuilt Temple of the One are allowed during the night. Then on the day itself after remembrances before first light, thanks is given to Akatosh and Talos, for the provision of Martin’s sacrifice and the saving of the City: the first light of dawn marks the start of a day long frenzy of celebration.

See now the laughter and gaiety on show today by the common city folk! I still remember when the Festival was a time for reflection, for sobriety and thanksgiving for our continued existence, when it was still known as the Day of Commemoration. Festivals are by their nature exuberant outpourings of joy and goodwill, and yet —sometimes I must fear that the true significance of these celebrations has already been lost. We are a generation of leaves that know not the trees we sprung from. In my own small way, I hope to pass on something of what those times were like, when man and mer alike stood together against a common foe.

For those wishing to gain a firm grounding in the reality behind the gloss of story in this volume: The life of Uriel VII is ably, if in a rather brief and dry statement of events, chronicled in Rufus Hayn’s A Short Life of Uriel Septim VII; Per Vetersen’s Daggerfall: A Modern History, Hasphat Antabolis’s Life and Times of the Nerevarine in its revised and updated 3rd edition, and the three-volume Biography of Barenziah by Stern Gamboge provide amplification of detail for the later 44 years of Uriel VII’s reign, a time that was to see great upheaval politically and socially in various provinces.

This was the period that popular imagination calls the Age of Heroes, so named for the appearance of a succession of men and women of unusual capabilities, seemingly arriving all but miraculously to aid the Empire, as Imperial Cyrod’s fortunes ebbed at their lowest. Doubtless many went unknown and unsung, like the mysterious Blades agent who orchestrated the Miracle of Peace, remembered only in the diaries of Uriel VII and a handful of highly classified reports I was privileged to read; but three particular individuals and their deeds stand out in popular imagination: First the Eternal Champion, who freed Uriel VII from his extranirnian imprisonment in a plane of Oblivion, and cast down the perfidious battlemage Jagar Tharn; then the appearance of the Nerevarine Incarnate. I will not enter into a discussion here on the events surrounding the Nerevarine Prophecies, except to note that most Imperial historians agree the appearance of the Nerevarine was heavily influential in ensuring that events surrounding the dissolution of the Tribunal’s rule swung in favour of Imperial interests, in tandem with that of the court of Mournhold.

Last of all came the Hero of Kvatch, anon the Champion of Cyrodiil. Here I will attempt to address the numerous criticisms regarding my chosen portrayal of the Champion.

Like the two other heroes listed above, very little is known of the Champion personally. Though I would not presume to call these volumes histories, partaking as they do of more than a little authorial license; I have ventured in my writings to hew as close to the truth that the historical facts allow for, as far as they can be established. As a young maid, I was fascinated by the stories of the Champion. I have devoted most of my career as a historian, some 75 years thus far to researching the tales and sifting them for the truth behind the legend, the facts behind the folk histories of the Crisis.

What do we know for certain about the Champion? What were they before fate called them to a higher destiny and the salvation of Tamriel? The yarns and fireside tales of the grandmothers answer, “Warrior, mage, merchant, fisherman… Thief, murderer, assassin.” Whatever their profession was before remains mostly a mystery, an unimportant one to many who tell the stories of the Champion.

Emperor-saint Martin, in a passage from his diaries gives us this rare quote, ostensibly straight from the Champion’s mouth, which I find apropos to ths situation: “He [Emperor Uriel] said, “As for what you have done, or have not done, it does not matter, not now.” Indeed, what does it matter now?

Other entries in Emperor-saint Martin’s diaries, as well as the precognitive vision records of the Emperor Uriel VII, however offer further tantalising glimpses into the Champion’s life before their calling by the gods. If these records are to be believed, as the Blades archivist assured me they were, the Champion was an adventurer who bent the letter but not the spirit of the laws, a warrior and scholar, all traits that stood them in good stead for what they were needed to accomplish in the Crisis.

Folk narratives claim variously that the Champion was a woman, a man. The Champion was an Altmer, a Breton, Nord, Imperial, Dunmer… there are at least as many candidates for the identity of the Champion, as there are races in Tamriel. The various extant records do not refer to the Champion by name; all we have to go on is an initial, ‘A.’. Nearly all the primary sources, save one, are almost uniformly vague as to whether they were man or woman, or even of what race — frustrating for the historical writer searching for facts to go on!

Why then, have I chosen to portray the Champion in my books as a Breton, and one with such a peculiar, marked disability? Here I can only claim conjecture: one of the very few threads of agreement throughout the legends of the Champion is that whoever they were, they were foreign to Cyrodiil, and of small stature — thus making them unlikely to have been of any of the merish races excepting the Bosmer. I discarded the notion of a Bosmeri Champion after further thought, as secondly, all verifiable sources were in agreement that the Champion had never been seen using magicka, or been known to do so, and felt it a source of abashment. Given the prevalance of magic use amongst the Bretons of High Rock, I felt it likely that one raised there would feel shame at being unable to use magicka. Sources close to the Champion in daily life suggest they were not refraining from magic use by choice: We have the testimonial of then Blades Grandmaster Jauffre that the Champion had admitted, “greatly ashamed”, they were unable to cast a spell, again corroborated by the accounts of Baurus and Blades Captain Steffan. From Blades Knight Sister Caroline, an account comes down to us that the Champion had once confessed to her, as having been able to cast spells and use magicka, but “not anymore” at the time of the Crisis. Thus I chose to reconcile these disparate factoids by means of an acquired handicap.

Was the Champion indeed a woman? For this I only have a single source: the Emperor-saint Martin himself. In the entry dated 19th Sun’s Dawn he mentions that “A. brought the Sanguine Rose to me. Is very angry.” and later on the 5th of First Seed, “If she does not forgive me, I shan’t know what to do. I can’t do this without”— the entry cuts off there, but the circumstantial evidence seems solid enough to me to support the conjecture.

Are Arliene Aswyth and her twin sister Clesyne then wholly figments of my imagination, fitted to the role of the Champion and antagonist? I admit freely they are, but not without some basic grounding in actuality: Captain Baurus, Third Blade in the security detail of Emperor Uriel VII and First Blade in the guard of Emperor Martin, forms my second primary source, after the brief daily records penned by Emperor Martin, for corroborated details of the the Champion’s actions during the Crisis. He simply refers in written material to the Champion as ‘A.’, and again makes no note of whether ‘A.’ is male or female, or indeed, of anything personal related to the Champion, never mind a name. Even the most exhaustive and surprising source overall, the diaries and vision records of Uriel VII himself detailing the eerie visions and foreknowledge he experienced up to his death, do not speak on the matter of the Champion’s name, through strange chance. The Moth Priests I consulted claim that due to the nature of these records being written on ancestor-moth silk paper of the finest weave, the medium is rendered sensitive to “the flows and ebbs of time deranged” — whatever that means. In these papers, the full name of the Champion is written, but is sadly unreadable. Attempts at deciphering a name from the obscuring blotches of ink, or any further details causes significant discomfort. Forgive this writer’s inability to continue, as the mere remembrance is sufficient to cause the most awful headaches. ‘C.’ is an attested figure that caused Grandmaster Jauffre and the Blades great worry over the security of Emperor-saint Martin, then only the Heir-designate, with fleeting hints of confusion between the two (‘A.’ and ‘C.’): anything else of their purported relation is of my own invention.

The substance of the Champion’s heroic deeds is disputed: Not a corner of Cyrodiil exists that does not bear some folk tale or legend of deeds imputed to the Champion. For instance, in Anvil, where one of the best known tales of the Champion originates, it is told how the Champion routed a great band of thieves, said to be completely female in their membership, and that the Champion variously slew anywhere between 10 to 50 of them at once in open combat. I believe that this incident, while likely rooted in historical fact, is highly coloured by wishful thinking and much exaggeration; it is not necessarily factual or even linked to the Champion of Cyrodiil. Here I have attempted to bring the better known legends and those that various sources have indicated contain more than a grain of credibility together into a cohesive whole; I fear however, that as others have rightly charged, such an attempt must necessarily retain more than a few awkward corners.

What then, in the end, do we know for certain about the Champion’s life and deeds? That they were instrumental in helping Saint Martin end the Oblivion Crisis cannot be denied; the means he or she employed are shrouded in mystery still impenetrable, more than a century later. We roughly know the when of events, and the why is well known — what student of history has not by now a passing acquaintance with the Mythic Dawn and its goals? What is truly missing is the ‘how’: the full story of the struggles of these two intriguing personages, perhaps the most important people in Tamriel at the time, and how they finally succeeded in turning back Mehrunes Dagon’s invasion, will likely never be known, nor the ultimate fate that overtook them in that last blaze of “bright light which came from the heart of Cyrodiil, blazing across the land that was seen from Winterhold to Summerset across the four corners of Tamriel.”

I only seek to offer a vision of how it might have gone; and if it has proved entertaining of a while, I shall call myself content.

Cerwen of Il?tèa

30th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 115, Imperial City

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Note from the Imperial Bureau of Approved Writings

Given this day 18th Midyear, 4E 115

To Inspector Gracchus, greetings.

Having reviewed the contents of this volume as well as its previous editions, we have noted a dangerous amount of Septimate and Blades propaganda present in its contents, unfavourable to the stability of the Empire, and in particular the reign of Her Cyrodiilic Majesty and Imperial Splendour, the Empress Morihatha II Mede, Blessed of Heaven, Empress, and Mother and Daughter of Emperors, Inspiration of Faith and Safeguard of Justice All the Gods be with Her.

Suggest substantial revisions immediately, as well as full censure and sanctions of the publisher and author. Also, whoever passed this previously as nihili obstat is to be found and interrogated thoroughly on their subversive activities.

Yours in service under the Penitus Oculatus,

Severus Septimaeus

Quarternary Censor Ordinarius of the Imperial Bureau of Approved Writings

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Note from a Thalmor Justiciar to Ambassador Eranel of Imperial Cyrodiil

27th Last Seed, 4E 175

Honoured Ambassador,

Upon reviewing the contents of this volume, I found myself disgusted and absolutely consternated by its contents, which absolutely reek of Talos worship, glorification of that false god and propaganda favouring the Blades, along with incitement to false belief in Mannish superiority. I had to stop to purify my thoughts not once, but thrice in reading this… thing.

With this amount of objectionable material, I would recommend the immediate suppression of the book throughout the Dominion’s sphere, as well as detainment of the author, if the creature can be found. Such abasemant of pure Altmeri blood should never have been countenanced in the first place!

Justiciar Ambarendil