Chapter 6

Rain crashed down around them, steady and overwhelming. Daria wanted to believe she'd only imagined the howl.

Then it came again, louder and closer than before.

"Jane, if you've ever secretly gotten extensive weapons or magic training, now would be a great time to show it," Daria said. She tightened her grip on the sheathed sword even as her arm trembled. Her breaths came quick and sharp.

"I have a knife. I can cut up a scrib with it. As long as it's already dead."

Daria wiped her glasses with her soaked sleeve, revealing her rain-lashed surroundings for a few blurry moments before more drops obscured her vision.

The nix hound howled anew. Daria drew her sword, the weapon absurdly heavy in her little hand. Water dripped down the handle, making it slippery.

"It's there!" Jane cried.

"I can't see a damn thing!"

"A bit to your left, up on the hill. It's watching us."

Daria cleared her lenses again. She glimpsed the nix hound through the smear of water. It looked like a lean and leathery dog with a mosquito's head, complete with an enormous proboscis. The creature stared back at them through bulging red compound eyes.

What had Dad said? His warnings and advice turned to vapor in the face of a real threat. Failure here meant pain—very possibly death. Daria pressed her teeth together and planted her feet wide on the muddy ground, the wet earth already threatening to pull out from under her.

"It's moving!" Jane shouted.

Daria pulled back her sword arm. Quick, decisive thrusts, she remembered, and hoped she looked in the right direction. How close was it? Something splashed near her—Jane's feet? The hound's claws?

A shadow burst through the rain.

Air rushed out of Daria's lungs as the nix hound hit her with what felt like a meteor's force. She fell backward into the mud, her world a jumble of howls and thrashing muscles. She stabbed with frantic abandon, not knowing if she struck earth or flesh.

"I can't get close—" came Jane's voice.

Crushing weight pressed onto Daria, and she tried to wiggle free. Bulbous eyes looked into her own. It reared back for a strike, and she moved her head to the left. The nix hound's proboscis plunged into the ground where her head had been a moment before.

She stabbed again. The sword point hit something thick and dense.

"Get off her!" Jane shouted.

Daria still struggled. Sharp pain flared on her right side. She imagined her innards spilling out onto the ground. This was it, she realized.

Suddenly, the weight lifted. A trembling howl echoed in her ears, fading into the rain.

She lay there in the mud for a few moments, her entire body shaking.

"Jane? Am I dead?"

"No. Here, let's get you out of the road."

Jane grabbed her arms and helped her up. Daria followed along as pain pulsed through her torso.

"How bad is it?" Daria asked. She could still walk, at least.

"Can't tell in all the rain, but your guts aren't spilling out, so that's probably a good sign. Assuming you like your guts."

"I have a good working relationship with them."

Jane guided Daria to a seated position at the base of a big beige mushroom.

"I think you saved my life," Daria said, still numb as she leaned back on the spongy stalk. She wondered how her dad had managed to do this when he was her age. He'd never gotten that far in the Fighters Guild, but he'd done some bloody work for them.

No wonder he never talked about it.

"The way I see it, we saved each other's," Jane said. "You skewered that nix hound pretty good."

"I did?" Daria realized she'd left her sword in the mud. "Dammit, my sword's still there."

"Leave it for now; let's take a look at your wound." Jane took the lapels of Daria's coat to start removing it, but Daria waved her off.

"I can do this," she said, only for a sudden wave of pain to bowl her over once she tried extricating her arms from the sleeves. "Okay, maybe not."

Jane took off the coat and lifted Daria's shirt along her right side. She whistled.

"That doesn't sound promising," Daria said.

"I'm just thinking about the cool scar you'll get from this. It's a flesh wound, so nothing we can't fix."

Jane rummaged through her pack, took out a tiny tin canister, and handed it to Daria. She opened it up and drank the bittersweet sludge inside. Exhaling, she rested her head against the stalk as the potion jumpstarted her natural regenerative ability.

"Feel better?" Jane asked.

"Getting there."

"Okay. Once you're up to it, we can go back to the boat. I don't—"

"Wait," Daria interrupted. "The shrine can't be much farther."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

Was she? Daria thought for a moment. More than anything else, she wanted to lie down in a warm bed and sleep for a full week. But she'd already given up so much on this journey: her comfort, her security, and her own tenuous faith.

No reason to not go all the way.

"We've gone this far, and it's unlikely we'll get attacked again. Besides, I'm already caked in mud and wracked with self-doubt. I wouldn't look out of place in the Shrine of Humility."

"Are you positive?" Jane lowered her voice.

Their eyes locked.

"Yes."

Jane nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

They waited a bit longer for Daria to recuperate before retrieving her sword and setting off. The rain slackened to a drizzle as they marched, cold and soaked to the bone. Water sloshed in Daria's boots, and she knew she'd end up with blisters before this was all over.

Daria looked for any buildings that might house the shrine, but it was Jane who found it, a humble triolith to the left of the road, not that different from the household shrines in Balmora. Set among mossy stones and flanked by violet willow anthers, it'd have been easy for a traveler to overlook.

"This is it?" Daria asked.

"The Tribunal Temple usually isn't that big on display. Plus, it'd be kind of weird to have some huge temple for a shrine to humility."

Daria thought back to the grand temples she'd seen in Cyrodiil while traveling to Morrowind. As far as the Imperial Cult was concerned, humility was best expressed through gem-encrusted relics and enormous edifices of white marble.

Jane continued. "So back in the day, there was a farmer whose guar had died. The poor guy couldn't harvest his crops without it. Lord Vivec, who wasn't a god yet, found him and helped out."

And now that he was a god, did Vivec help farmers struggling with poor harvests? Daria wondered. The impoverished multitudes suggested otherwise. But she said nothing.

"That was good of him," Daria said, not trusting herself to go farther.

"Yeah. It was."

Jane bowed her head and took slow steps toward the shrine. She drew a small bundle of wet cloth from her coat and knelt in front of the shrine, reverently placing the bundle on the wet earth.

"Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec. I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world."

Jane genuflected, heedless of the storm. She'd risked life and limb, sacrificed time and scant resources. She'd expected no reward and had received none, but showed no regret for her efforts.

Daria wasn't sure if she believed in a god. But she knew she believed in faith.

*********

Severius delivered Daria and Jane to Pelagiad by noon the next day; the skies clear and the air warm after the storm. Daria gave him the incense and headed to the Halfway Tavern for a bath and a full meal.

Evening found the pair sitting next to a bonfire on the fairgrounds. The cool night air still thrummed with the sounds of commerce as farmers haggled over last-minute deals. Mammalian, reptilian, and invertebrate cattle all added their sounds to the medley.

"I should've gone with you," Trent said, staring into the flames. "I know how to deal with nix hounds."

"No harm, no foul," Jane said. "Besides, Daria got a neat new accessory. Show him your scar!"

Daria smiled. "I'd rather people appreciate me for my deep psychological scars. Physical scars are so passé in comparison."

"Come on, think of the fashion trends you can start back in Balmora!"

"That'd be a losing proposition. Quinn has a much higher pain tolerance than I do."

Trent shook his head. "You guys joke about it, but that scares me. Nix hounds shouldn't be on pilgrimage routes."

"The ordinators can't keep their eyes on everything," Jane said.

Iesse sauntered up to them at that moment, a small pouch in his right hand. "Hey, Trent," he said. "I just got a great deal on some incense from the Imperial City!"

Daria's ears perked up at the word. "Incense?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna take it home and put it around my place. Girls really dig it."

"Where exactly did you get this incense?"

"Some boat captain was selling it."

"Was his name Severius?"

Iesse blinked. "Yeah. How did you know?"

Daria sighed. On the plus side, it looked like she might have a chance to fulfill her mom's request after all.

Musical Closer - Under Easy, by The Posies

The End

An exciting fight! Daria surely needs some windshield wipers for those darn glasses! Or perhaps a water repelling enchantment for the lenses? Nothing like a life or death struggle to bring friends closer and that seems to be the case here. Glad Jane was carrying a healing potion.

”Plus, it'd be kind of weird to have some huge temple for a shrine to humility."
- - Methinks Jane’s got the right of it here.

Back to Pelagiad with a sexy new scar to document their adventure.

How fitting! Seems Daria’s incense just might complete its journey as well.

I hate wearing glasses in the rain. ugh.

Sharp pain flared on her right side. She imagined her innards spilling out onto the ground.

and

Can't tell in all the rain but your guts aren't spilling out, so that's probably a good sign.

This was a delightful combination! Also I absolutely heard that in Jane's voice from the show. You really capture the character's vocal cadences well.

And hopefully this whole adventure will serve to cement the relationship between Daria and Jane, when earlier the same day it was looking to do quite the opposite.

I liked the intentional juxtaposition between the Shrine of Humility being a literal humble affair, compared to Daria's own ruminations to the grandeur of Imperial temples.

"I'd rather people appreciate me for my deep psychological scars. Physical scars are so passé in comparison."
That is so Daria!

I nearly laughed out loud at Jessie's fortuitous find of incense!

Episode 8: Hate Actually

Chapter 1

Sweat was the enemy. Sure, Quinn had lots of enemies: cheap kohl, those lacy veils that Nibenese women wore that got stuck on your makeup, bad hair days, bad pores, and last but not least, Synda Grilvayn. But of all those, sweat was the one she worried about as she trudged to Moonmoth Legion Fort with her family.

Why would anyone walk so far on a hot summer day? She knew that Tiphannia's family had hired a carriage for the trip, and that wasn't so expensive! Why couldn't Mom do that? Instead, the whole family had to march up rocky hills under the burning sun like a bunch of soldiers. Regular soldiers, not officers, who'd probably have horses or something.

"You know, if you'd hired a carriage, we'd already be there by now!" Quinn said. She tugged at the collar of her light yellow dress, damp with sweat. She'd need an ocean of perfume to cover the smell, and she'd only brought one vial. Plus, sweat always showed up on yellow. She'd have picked a different color, but yellow went best with the red of Pelinal's Day.

"Sweetie, it's only six miles. You used to walk farther than that on Stirk," Mom said from the front.

"But that was back then! Now, me not looking my best could be bad for this whole family! Everybody important is going to be at the fort for Pelinal's Day! "

"You mean the commemoration of Pelinal's Midyear Massacre—" Daria started.

"The Empire doesn't call it that any longer," Mom chided.

"At least not when there might be wealthy Mer around," Daria added.

"Maybe we should call it that," Quinn said. She adjusted her parasol to keep the sun from burning her face. "It's the day where my fashion standards get massacred."

"You should've asked those three suitors of yours to carry you," Daria said.

"Ugh, gross! They'd have to touch me for that!"

"Here we are!" Dad cheered. He pointed ahead to the squat towers of Moonmoth Legion Fort, looking every bit as barren as the surrounding hills. Dust swirled in the air, sticking to Quinn's dress and spoiling the color of the fabric.

Quinn refused to cheer. Maybe they thought it was a fun little walk, or whatever, but they didn't have to look perfect. She did. The walk would cost her big time. You only survived if you had friends, and more people wanted to be your friend if you looked good! That way, they could look at something nice when they talked about business or whatever.

Daria would sulk in a corner like she always did at parties, so Quinn would have to do double duty representing the Morgendorffers to all the handsome young officers and minor nobles that'd be there. Didn't Mom and Dad see how important it was? She could secure the family's future by finding some cute guy who was rich. Lots of people made marriage arrangements on holidays; it was like really auspicious.

Now she'd have to do all that looking as unfashionable as Daria!

*********

The soldiers had decorated the fort as best they could, but there was only so much you could do with bare stone. At least it was cool inside. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief as they walked past the troopers standing out in front of the keep (the one on the left had been kind of cute in a scary sort of way) and entered the main hall. She sniffed when she saw how they'd covered the walls in garish tapestries with basic designs. Couldn't they spend a bit more? If the Empire was trying to keep everyone happy, it needed to make its forts look like places where cool people would want to spend time, even if they were way out on the frontier.

Someday, she really needed to get to the Imperial Court and help them fix their spending priorities.

"Here we are, girls! The Empire's outpost of law and order!" Dad exclaimed. "The home of the soldiers who protect us from the barbarian hordes, the great wall where we seek shelter and gain strength!"

"Would these barbarian hordes include any of your clients?" Daria asked.

Quinn tuned them out and tallied up the other guests. Mostly other people born in Cyrodiil, which made sense because it was an Imperial holiday. There was Nadia Heptalla, who'd just come back from the Imperial City with all kinds of stories about the latest fashions, and who Quinn definitely needed to talk to, a lot; Agrippina Neusis, whose mom and dad were like super-rich from investing in those smelly egg mines but whose money couldn't buy fashion sense; Marco Rocullus, who was definitely cute but maybe a little too dumb—a little dumb was better than too smart, but he took it too far, like being the kind of guy who'd once won a head-butting contest against a guar (you'd have to be pretty dumb to get in that kind of contest in the first place, and if you won, it meant your skull was thicker than a wild animal's, so definitely not boyfriend material); Tiphannia and Satheri...

Tiphannia and Satheri! Quinn extended her arms and hurried to her two friends. Tiphannia wore a pale green moth-silk gown that was so pretty on her, and that had those little flowers sown in on the sleeves! Satheri's dress was simpler, dark blue and thick, maybe a little too boxy around the shoulders, but still super-cute.

"I'm so glad to see you guys!" Quinn said, hugging the two of them. "Okay, so what's the battle plan tonight? Satheri, do you know any cute single guys in Great House Hlaalu who'll be here? Because I could definitely go for an Ascadian Isles vacation this summer... plus, shopping in Vivec!"

And Satheri would totally know! Her family had all the connections to both the Empire and Hlaalu because her dad ran messages from one to the other or something like that. Her words lit a spark in Satheri's big, innocent eyes. That's what was so cute about Satheri. She could be so mild one moment, but the next she was all business.

"Okay," Satheri said, "so I know the Sloans are going to be here. They're like the richest, but their son, Tomal, is kind of a dud and reads weird books all the time. The Hlaleldro boys are here—the older one is too old, but the younger one is our age. He's kind of cute, but gets boring. But get this! Turimar Shurmam will be here."

"Who's that?" Quinn asked.

"He's hunky, and he's loaded. They say that all the girls in Vivec are in love with him, and that one time he wrestled a wild kagouti to the ground! Like he grabbed it by the tusks and forced it down, all on his own!"

"Ooh, that does sound good! Why did he do it?"

"My friend said he did it to save—get this—a human girl!"

"Great! I was going to ask if his family would be okay with him, you know, being with a human." She knew a lot of Dunmer guys said they only wanted Dunmer girls, but she'd seen the way those guys looked at her when they thought she wasn't looking back. Still, she wasn't going to date someone who had hang-ups over something so silly. Quinn was already half-Nord anyway, and they were all citizens of the Empire regardless of race.

"What do you think, Tiphannia?" Quinn asked.

"Kagouti are like... so dangerous..." As usual, she was still in the earlier part of the conversation.

Satheri beamed. "Gosh, this must be so exciting. There are a lot of cute outlander guys, too. It almost makes me wish I wasn't in an arranged marriage." Her eyes somehow got bigger, and she suddenly clutched Quinn's sleeve. "But I didn't mean I'm unhappy with the arranged marriage! If my parents found out I was complaining, they'd kill me, and the marriage won't happen, and then I'll be alone forever, and you can't tell anyone—"

"Calm down, Satheri! Panic opens your pores. Remember that."

Still trembling, Satheri nodded and took a few deep breaths. And with that, she was back to normal.

That's what Quinn loved about the club. They were so supportive. Satheri and Tiphannia both looked good in ways that made Quinn look even better but didn't threaten her (and her arranged marriage meant Satheri couldn't steal any eligible guys). And best of all, Quinn could help them with her knowledge of Imperial fashion!

Which reminded her: she needed to do some serious talking with Nadia Heptalla to find out which dress colors were in right now. Quinn hadn't gotten a new dress in almost a year. Way past time to prep!

They caught up on the important things—who was seeing who, who'd bought what—until one of the Imperial Cult priests rang a bell. Quinn hurried over to where her family sat, already thinking of how much she could do that evening.

*********

Daria sat with her parents and used alcohol to gird herself for what was sure to be a miserable event. The fort was serving grape wine, which she hadn't had since leaving Cyrodiil. She raised a pewter cup to her lips and savored the sour taste. Good, but she had to admit she now preferred mazte. Wine reminded her of a small and lonely world surrounded by the ocean, with Quinn's complaints constant and unavoidable. Mazte made her think of the comforting darkness within the Lucky Lockup and of Jane's raspy voice as they mocked the stupidity around them.

The fort's gaudy decorations somehow enhanced its bleakness; the clash of bright textiles and gray stone both cheap and unconvincing. They'd be staying the night and marching back in the morning. She'd tried to talk her way out of coming, prompting Mom and Dad to go on an interminable spiel about the importance of Imperial patriotism.

The seating arrangements in the hall reflected the Empire's power structure. Funny how they hid things like that in plain sight. A big table at the head of the room held all the administrators, high-ranking priests, and legion types. To their right was a smaller table reserved for wealthy outlander guests, including Jolda and (less pleasantly) Karl the Unctuous. Opposite them, and to the left of the head table, was another where the well-connected Dunmer guests took their place. Daria saw Satheri, clinging to her parents like a shadow, and Briltasi, whose stepmom was the sole outlander at that table. No sign of Synda, happily; her family didn't do any business with the Empire.

Outlanders occupied the rest of the tables, decreasing in social importance the closer the table was placed to the door. The Morgendorffers, upstart bourgeoisie that they were, occupied a comfy middle spot on the chain of sycophancy. Jane hadn't been invited, of course, so that precluded the possibility of any interesting conversation. Pelinal Day would just be another opportunity for idiots to fake Imperial loyalty for the sake of networking and getting a spot closer to the head table next time around.

The priest rang the bell. Daria sighed, already thinking of ways to avoid the morons that evening.

Musical Closer - Material Girl, by Madonna

What fun to have Quinn’s perspective on this festival! While in some ways her light and airheaded airy views, notions and priorities actually contain quite a bit of wisdom – in their own Quinnishly logical way. I love how she sees the opportunities the evening ahead can provide. And her perceived challenges. . . . Not the least of which is this one:
’Now she'd have to do all that looking as unfashionable as Daria!’

I must confess that even my own elf ascribes to the sentiment, 'Why adventure if you can't look good doing it?'


Then a sharp gear change as we move to Daria’s ever so much more dour perspective. Less fun and optimistic but not without her own rather realistic and piercing insights.

Are we sure these two sisters were manufactured in the same womb?

Acadian: Maybe Daria needs some Dwemer glasses with built in windshield wipers?

I know you were joking about Quinn and Daria coming from the same mother. But if you squint, you can see it. You just have to look at mom. She is a relentlessly driven career woman who has had to not just fight tooth and nail to get where she is, but also to play the games of politics and flattery and playing nice with people you would just as soon spit on. Which is to say, she's a successful lawyer.

Daria got the intelligence, pragmatism, and razor sharp perception that makes her Mom a good lawyer. Quinn got the ability socially manipulate people for her own personal benefit, sans all the rest above. Both Daria and Quinn are two halves of the same coin that way. Each lacks the things that makes the other strongest.



WellTemperedClavier: Thank you Daria for bringing up that we are celebrating an insane genocidal warlord. Erm, I mean national hero.

I found the scene from Quinn' perspective both amusing and insightful. While shallow and self-centered, she at least understands some realities, like how getting people to live you is a form of accruing power, and one that is definitely beneficial to survival. And lets face it, being attractive is a part of that. Not the entirety of it. But a part nonetheless. Numerous studies have shown that people who are attractive are hired more, promoted more, and paid more, than everyone else.

Aha! Tom does rear his not-so-ugly head. Even if only in second-hand fashion.

It is almost whiplash when we turn to Daria's inner monologue and observations! But in a good way. She always has a wonderful outsider's point of view into the hypocrisy and naked greed and power of whatever society she is unwillingly thrust into.

Yeah, that's right. I forgot the silt strider goes to Seyda Neen at best. It wouldn't go to Pelagiad because that seems to be more of an Imperial town, I guess. Oh cool. Lake Amaya. I just looked that up. So they are getting near their destination.

"Graceful emperor parasols"... is that the real name for all the giant mushroom trees? ... Even if not, I'll take it!

Uh oh.

-- "Jane, don't you think it's a little convenient that your deities look like regular Dunmer in gold paint?--

See, I never thought of it like this! But it's SO true, Clavier. This seems to be near the heart of the whole Tribunal debate, sort of like the way the Empire rejects Talos as a god. I learn so much from this story. 🤓 Because honestly, a lot of the Morrowind politics I've heard are so amazing (compared to Oblivion) confuse the heck out of me. I'm learning them slowly as I write Joan's story. So it's good to learn them from this 'fun' perspective.

But yeah, uh oh. Daria's in trouble with Jane. And isn't this how it can always go during one of our road trips here on Earth? We're all in the car. Somebody says the wrong thing. That's all it takes! Next thing we know, there's all kinds of snippy words followd by stony silence! ... and there are ... oh.... 216 miles left to go.

Okay I'll shush now.

"Free Farmers Fair" Yeah, the Halfway is pretty small as it is. Sucks they have to sleep in the mud.

Oh gosh. Now Jane's mad about no ferry. This trip is so miserable!

Alright, I'm up to Post 97 today. I am determined to catch up to the others today.

Oh no, she's giving her mom's incense away. And there's a nix hound! Yeah, I was wondering where all the hostile critters are. DAmn. They pwned the thing at least. Phew.



That's so perfect.

Chapter 2

Why did food have to be so tempting?

The nice thing about Morrowind was that a lot of the food was actually healthy, even if it looked gross. No one ever got fat from eating bugs, Satheri always said. But whatever they cooked in the kitchen that night wasn't bugs, but the stuff she used to eat as a kid: pork with fish sauce, porridge drenched in olive oil, and sweetened tripe. Maybe she could indulge this one time.

Nope! Nothing doing. She had an image to protect. If the Empire had to look strong, she had to look fashionable.

Her stomach growled. "Quiet," she whispered. Oh, but she could already taste the porridge, probably with little pieces of fried egg. She hadn't had that in forever! She wondered how her old friends in Charach were doing. Simpler times when a girl could just be a girl.

Best to put her mind elsewhere. What she liked about big events was that the arranged seating let you see who was popular. The Ergallas were sitting right up next to the big head table now, so Sephannia's grandpa must've gotten promoted. But the Morcuris, who supposedly had a lot of money, were almost right at the door. Probably meant people wouldn't want to hang out with their daughter anymore.

One of the priestesses, a really wrinkly old lady with a whole bunch of swirly red lines tattooed on her face, stood up at the head table and raised her arms. Everyone stopped talking. Some soldiers came into the room with musical instruments: horns, flutes, drums, and a few lyres.

Ugh, it was going to be traditional Cyrodiilic music! Why couldn't they get some bard from Skyrim or High Rock? Those places had the best songs, actual ballads with stories and romance. Not just droning noise and chants. Oh well.

The musicians started playing, and Quinn faked a smile. The priestess walked to the middle of the room.

"Hearken ye to the days before Cyrodiil yet was, to the days when Mer enslaved Man..." she proclaimed.

Quinn focused on the table where all the Dunmer sat. She spotted him right away: Turimar Shurmam. He was big and brawny for a Dunmer, with enormous arms that could definitely wrestle a wild animal to the ground but that you'd feel totally safe in if he was hugging you with them. His hair was incredible too! Long, dark, with a few airy curls! He had to spend a lot of time on it to get it to look that way, and maybe that was a little weird for a guy, but who cared when he looked that good!

"...in armor star-forged and blood-streaked, Pelinal pledged death to the enemies of Man..."

And he was rich. She didn't see anyone who might be his parents over there.

"...and so Pelinal emerged from battle clad in robes of Mer entrails and his head crowned with Mer fingers..."

Turimar shifted in his seat, looking like he didn't want to be there. Maybe he was a poetic and sensitive type deep down or something, but still brave and courageous and all that.

"...Pelinal called out Haromir of Copper and Tea into a duel at the Tor, and ate his neck-veins..."

He was her ticket out. Her whole family's ticket out! Mom and Dad weren't going to get any farther. All their clients were boring businesspeople like them. Quinn knew she was the only one who could make the jump to someone in the high life.

"...no heart beat in his chest but only the red rage of an Empire yet unborn..."

Once they got there, they'd have won. They'd be sitting almost at the head table, like Briltasi's stepmom. Visits to the markets of Vivec, Narsis, and maybe the Imperial City. Parties, galas, and all the best dresses from the best designers in the world! She just needed to find the right guy. It was all up to her. Daria would never cut it. Books only got you another boring job.

"...to storm the White-Gold in blood and rage and cast down the Sorcerer-Kings and break their ancestors beneath his mailed feet!"

The priestess, who was all sweaty now, let her arms fall. The music kept playing. Now for the worst part of the whole thing: the blood.

"In honor of Pelinal, let us adorn our faces with the blood of Man's foes," the priestess said.

Not real blood, at least, but still gross. Daria had said that the red paint was symbolic of Mer blood or something like that. More cult priests walked into the room and put a bowl of red paint on each table. Dad took the one offered to theirs, dipped his right hand in, and then smeared a big red streak on his forehead. Mom did the same. Daria took off her glasses and slathered fake blood all over her face so that it dripped down her neck.

"This symbolic viscera doesn't quite have the right texture to be convincing," Daria said. Mom and Dad glared at her. "It needs to be chunkier."

Quinn rolled her eyes. The bowl passed to her, so she put it on the table like a civilized person would and dabbed a few fingers into the stuff. She applied some to her forehead and then drew a vertical streak from crown to chin (horizontal lines would make her face look fat) and a bit more on her cheekbones to highlight them. Best of all, the yellow fabric of her dress matched the red!

The musicians played until everyone was done, and then they finally stopped. One of the army guys at the head table stood up.

"Thank you, Sister Armatia, for reminding us of the humble and valorous origins of the First Empire. Though we live under the aegis of the Third, I do see our era as a direct continuation of St. Alessia's passion and Pelinal's fury."

He gestured over to the Dunmer notables at the Hlaalu table. "And of course, under the Third Empire, Man and Mer are now fellow citizens. The modern Imperial project is only possible through the aid of conscientious Mer citizens like the ones who have so honored us with their presence tonight. The Empire is cruel to its enemies, but only so that it can be good to its friends.

"And with our obeisances to heroes paid, let the feast begin!"

Everyone clapped. And looking at the red faces all through the room, she'd totally done the best job of applying the fake blood. If she had to pretend to be a berserk warrior, she'd at least look like a stylish one. Snagging Turimar and ensuring her family's future might depend on it!

*********

The important part of dinner, of course, came after dinner: the mingling and the dancing. She almost didn't believe it when some trained bards came out with instruments people actually listened to, like lutes and pipes. And then couples started going to the big space between the tables and, for a second, the boring old stone fort felt like a ballroom in the Imperial City! Or at least what she was pretty sure a ballroom in the Imperial City might look like.

"Oh, it's been so long since I've danced," she sighed.

"Not long enough, in my case," Daria said.

Quinn hoped she still remembered all the steps. They were dancing an allemande—was that two skips before the turn, or three? Whatever, she had to get down to business. But first, she wanted to chat with Satheri for last-minute info about Turimar. Quinn got out of her chair and walked over, still holding her goblet.

Satheri knew style, no doubt about that, but she hadn't done a good job with the fake blood. She'd smeared it across one side of her face and some of it had dripped down and stained her collar.

"Oh no!" Quinn exclaimed. "Fashion emergency. Ugh, I wish they didn't use red. But it's pretty dim in here. I don't think anyone will notice."

"Uh, I hope not," Satheri said. Her shoulders were all bunched up, like she wanted to hide from the world. Not a good look!

"Calm down, Satheri. You still look great."

"I do? Thanks. That stuff about Pelinal kind of scared me."

"Huh? Why?"

Satheri shivered. "Well, that lady was talking about how Pelinal killed Mer. I'm a Mer, Quinn."

Quinn waved her hand. "Oh, no, it's not like that! That was a different group of Mer he killed, the Ayleids or something, who were like so mean to my ancestors. I'm sure Pelinal didn't have a problem with Dunmer. He probably had a lot of Dunmer friends. All the cool Imperials do."

Satheri smiled and sniffed. "Well, we were called Chimer back then. But you think so? We didn't like the Ayleids either, but sometimes humans don't—"

"I know so. Maybe he had a Dunmer or Chimer or whatever girlfriend for a while! And he was a hero, so he must've been really handsome!"

"Oh! If I'd been around back then, do you think I could've been betrothed to Pelinal? Or wait, not Pelinal, I'm sure he'd marry an Imperial girl like you, but maybe I could've been betrothed to some other hero?"

"I'm sure you would have been! And speaking of handsome," Quinn said, pointing to Turimar who wasn't dancing yet. "Anything else I should know?"

"Okay, so his dad's a noble. Turimar's set to inherit, and he does a lot of work for his dad, so he'll be like super-rich!"

"Perfect!"

Quinn heard some chattering voices behind her and looked over her shoulder. Ugh! It was them: Jonus, Julien, and Jeval.

"Quinn, will you dance with me?" Jonus begged.

"I'll dance with you twice!" Julien promised.

"I'll dance with you better than Jonus or Julien can!" Jeval offered.

"Satheri, can you distract them for me?" Quinn whispered.

"Of course! Good luck, Muthsera Morgendorffer!"

Quinn smiled. Only unfashionable people needed luck. Well, luck was still good for things like tests, but that was about it. She drew herself up and approached the handsome Dunmer. He looked bored. She tried to figure the best angle—be sympathetic? Challenge him? If he'd saved some random human woman—who'd better not still be dating him—than maybe she should act like she needed help. She got it: new girl confused and overwhelmed by Morrowind and who needed a good Dunmer guy to help her out.

Quinn stood right next to the Hlaalu table. Turimar had pushed his chair back, hands behind his head, and legs crossed. She inched a little closer. Look at me, you dummy, she thought.

He kept looking straight ahead. She sighed; guys never made it easy.

Quinn raised her goblet as if to drink, and then let go so that it fell on the floor and rolled toward Turimar. Her eyes narrowed as it rolled, the contents puddling out onto the stone.

Pick it up, she thought.

The goblet finally hit his shoe and stopped. Quinn tensed up. Now was the moment.

He kept staring.

Dammit!

"Excuse me, sera, but I believe I have dropped my drinking vessel. Would you be so kind as to pick it up?" Quinn asked, annoyed that she had to.

Turimar finally noticed her. His chin was perfect, like you could crack walnuts with it. "Huh?"

"My goblet?"

He shrugged.

Annoyed, Quinn put her hands on her hips. "Usually, you pick something up when someone drops it." He sure didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd fight a monster to save someone.

Turimar grunted, then leaned down and picked up the goblet with one massive hand. This was more like it. Even better, he was grabbing a pitcher of wine to refill it. Things were going her way.

He refilled it and then brought it to his lips and drank deep.

"You were supposed to give that back to me!" she protested.

"What? I'm the one who picked it up. Don't I deserve the reward?" He followed it up with a laugh.

"Ugh! You deserve a kick to the shins. I bet you never wrestled that kagouti!"

"Sure, I did. I wrestle kagouti all the time. How do you think I got these?" He raised his arms and flexed. Then he let his arms fall and made a crooked smile.

Okay, the smile was interesting. Like he was kidding around about all that?

He then looked Quinn up and down, like he was finally paying attention to her. "You don't look that bad. You want to dance?"

Did she? He was so rude! At least he didn't constantly suck up to her. Plus, he was the best prospect available, according to Satheri, and she knew her stuff.

"I should turn you down. But I'll give you one chance."

"Okay," he said, getting up from his chair and going toward her.

"Just one!"

"Whatever."

Turimar scooped her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. Quinn gasped as he led her across the floor, his big hands wrapping around hers. This proved it: the stories (well, story, singular) about him had to be true. This guy really was the stuff heroes were made out of! So what if he had some rough edges?

Next thing she knew, they were circling each other. He took her hand and guided her through a minuet and then a gavotte. Turimar was built like a Nord, but he danced between the others as gracefully as you'd expect from a Mer.

"Where did you learn how to dance so well?" Quinn asked as they settled into another allemande. She was already flushed—she probably looked ridiculous with her face covered in sweat and fake blood, but so did everyone else. This guy controlled the dance floor, and she could see how the other ladies looked at them as they glided past.

"I lived in Cheydinhal for some years. Doing business for my dad."

"You must have a lot of money."

"Tons of it. And I ain't afraid to spend for a good time. This dinky little party is nothing."

"I bet you must've gone to way better ones. I wish I could go to those."

He grinned. "You gotta know the right people; grease the right palms."

"What do you think of Balmora?" she asked.

He made a grunting laugh. "Balmora is boring. I grew up in Narsis, and that place is way better. More parties, more drinks, more babes."

Quinn pretended she hadn't heard the last bit. "Balmora is so dull," she said. "I wish I could get out of here." She locked eyes with him when she said that, going for that sad look. As if she needed his help.

"You from here?"

"No." For a second, she thought about saying she was from the glitz and glamour of the Imperial City. But if this was going to be long-term, it'd be better to be honest. Well, not totally honest. More like two-thirds honest and one-third creative.

"I was born in Charach, but I basically grew up in Anvil," she said. Anvil was glamorous enough. Plus, it's where the big temple to Dibella was!

He smiled that crooked smile again, and it was like his eyes saw right past her. "Oh yeah? I bet you're just saying that to make yourself look good."

Quinn blushed. "No, we're a respectable family! We had a nice apartment. And now we rent a house!"

"On your way up, I see." He didn't sound like he meant it.

Now she was getting mad. But she didn't break the dance. "My dad is a big business consultant who helps Imperial merchants do their work here. And my mom's a lawyer. So yeah!"

"Take it easy. I like ambition," he said as he twirled her past Jolda and Maiko.

"Oh, you do?"

"Sure. I say, take what you can get. It's a tough world out there."

"You're so wise," Quinn said.

Relaxing, Quinn let Turimar carry her through the dances. And again, she felt like she was flying, the candle lights and smiling faces spinning around her like she was the center of the world.

The musicians finally stopped. He bowed, she curtsied, and he made that crooked smile again! Quinn blushed. So this guy was interesting. A little crude, but what could you expect from someone who beat up monsters? It felt like he was about to show her the most incredible things, and she only had to work a little harder to go along.

Of course, he had said that thing about "babes" in Narsis. Sometimes Quinn wished she could just forget weird things other people said, but her brain wouldn't let her. She guessed Daria had the same problem. Anyway, it was okay if he had a girl in every town, as long as he cut them off once Quinn came into the picture.

Time to tell Mom and Dad!

Musical Closer - Synphoniaci, by Synaulia

By default, I assumed this episode started from Daria’s perspective. By the second paragraph I smiled as, based on her observations/concerns, I realized this was written from Quinn’s perspective. That highlights how sharp the contrast between the two sisters is - and what a great job you’ve done at presenting them both.

I love the sharp contrast also between Quinn’s internal dialogue and the gory musical history lesson presented by the priestess. Culminating of course with Quinn applying the ‘blood’ as artfully as any makeup. After all, she realizes her family’s future might depend upon how she presents herself!

Quinn is certainly talented as she skillfully tends to the fashion woes and allays the fears of Satheri.

She is also quite focused on the target of her quest to marry up.

Now that we’ve met Turimar, the advice that comes to mind for Quinn is ‘be careful what you wish for’. A rich, handsome jerk is still a jerk. And remember, he’s a mer; even if he’s drawn in by Quinn’s looks, that beauty will only last for the blink of an eye to a mer who can measure his life in centuries instead of decades.

Oh gosh this just killed me! Did not expect! ... Quinn sounds like more of a princess than Daria for sure.

I love dad. Dad just comes across as such a ... dad. In the same vein as Homer or Hank Hill...sort of falsely cheeful as he makes an effort to keep it all together.

I like that you made the journey from Balmora to Moonmoth 6 miles. Indeed, I like to think what we see in the game is just a scaled-down representation of distance.

"The soldiers had decorated the fort as best they could, but there was only so much you could do with bare stone"

Ah jeez! this story's hilarious! ... The part when she says "Gosh, this must be so exciting. There are a lot of cute outlander guys, too. It almost makes me wish I wasn't in an arranged marriage." ... Your'e killing me today! ... Panic opens your pores!!!!

... Did you have fun while writing this, WTC? The thing I'm noticing most is how Quinn was complaining so much until she sees her friends. After that it's like she completely changes. You really know a lot about mall princesses!



Ha! Very true. It explains the lack of obesity in these games, although the common thing we all read in history books is that obesity was actually pretty rare during the Middle Ages. Still though.

She says "quiet" to her own tummy when it growls!

Turimar sounds like quite the man's man. Wouldn't it be great if he's actually gay? ... Just like Cher's crush in Clueless all over again.

Oh gosh... what's this with the red paint??? .. Yeesh, this is weird!

Whoa, Quinn sounds like she's hooking up! And Woo hoo! I'm finally caught up with the others!! But yeah, I wonder where this thing with Turimar is going.

I got right into Quinn's head here. She may as well be musing over the delicacy of air-popped, no-salt, no-butter, popcorn. Mmmm, tasty. But that was for simpler times, when a girl could just be popular...

I love how you juxtaposed the priestess sermonizing about Pelinal's bloody deeds with Quinn fantasizing about the hunky Dunmer guy!

I loved Quinn strategizing about how to approach the Hunkmer.

The Hunkmer is turning out to not be all that Quinn had hoped for. First I thought he might be gay. But then I realized he is just self-absorbed, rude, and kind of dumb. Ok, he's Tommy Sherman! Yep, he just a self-absorbed ass. I hope a pylon falls on him. It would really make you think...

I think Daria does indeed have that same problem of remembering the red flags that people throw up in your face....

Chapter 3

Satheri never had the stamina for dancing. She knew it was unfashionable to stop early, but wasn't it also unfashionable to get too sweaty? Quinn looked good no matter what, so she could dance all night. Not everyone was so lucky. Thus, she sat down with her mother before the first set ended and smiled when she saw Turimar bow before Quinn. Just like the Empire, Quinn always got what she wanted.

The words from the earlier speech echoed in her mind. "... and his head crowned with Mer fingers..." Satheri shuddered and again felt very sick and small.

She knew that Pelinal had only fought Ayleids, not Dunmer. She also knew that Quinn had been trying to make her feel better and that Pelinal probably wouldn't have seen the difference between the Ayleids and her ancestors. And that now her people were subjects of the Empire, and that the point of the speech was to remind the Dunmer that they'd best cooperate so they didn't end up as dead as the Ayleids.

Satheri sniffed and drank some of her wine, wishing she were back home in her comfy adobe house and far from the drafty stone fort. The Ayleids had enslaved early humans and treated them horribly. She knew a lot of Dunmer still did awful things to Khajiit and Argonians, but not to the Imperials. Dad always said that the Empire was the best friend Great House Hlaalu had. So she didn't know what her people had done to make the Empire hate and fear them so.

She doubted any answer would make her feel better.

*********

"Dude, Turimar's been dancing with Quinn all night!" Jonus complained.

The trio had not been dancing. Instead, they sat in the shadows and watched as Turimar took their goddess for one spin after another.

"Yeah, it isn't fair. He should give one of us a chance," Julien said.

Jeval shrugged. "We could ask some other girls."

Jonus glared at him. "No, stupid! If we dance with someone else, then Quinn won't think we're into her!"

Julien's hands closed into fists. "Hey, I was thinking. There's three of us and one of him. Maybe we should teach him a lesson."

"Are you crazy?" Jeval shook his head. "That guy's sitting right next to the head table. He's got important friends. We don't."

Jonus growled. "Crap, you're right."

"Well, my great-uncle is a count in Shornhelm," Julien said. "Or maybe a baron. I forget. But I guess that's pretty far away. Let's just get to Quinn before he does."

"I still think we should try some other girls," Jeval said. Noticing his two friends already hurrying toward Quinn, he shrugged and followed along.

*********

The best thing about dancing with a handsome guy was gloating about it afterward. Especially to someone like Daria, who always pretended like it didn't bother her, even though it totally did. The whole family was back at their middle place table (they'd soon be at a higher place!), with Mom and Dad taking a break from the dance floor. Daria had been reading, as usual.

"Well, you certainly seemed to be dancing up a storm!" Mom said.

"Yeah! Who's the lucky fella?" Dad asked.

Quinn went for the coy look, eyes up to the ceiling. "Oh, just some guy. His name is Turimar Shurmam, and he's really rich. I think he likes me."

"Of course he'd like you, sweetie," Dad said. "Everyone does."

"So does this Turimar have any redeeming qualities? Last I checked, wealth wasn't a sign of good character, particularly when it comes to Hlaalu," Daria said, not looking up from her book.

Quinn smirked. "For your information, Daria, he's also a hero. He beat up a bunch of kagouti with his bare hands to save some woman's life."

Daria finally glanced over at Turimar, who was drinking with some friends. "Uh huh. And next you'll be telling me that he annexed Akavir all to impress you."

This got Mom's attention. She crossed her arms and gave Daria one of those looks. "You know, Daria, you haven't been doing much tonight."

"On the contrary, I've been working very hard to avoid socializing."

"Which isn't helpful for us right now. At least Quinn is making some connections!"

"Yeah!" Quinn said.

"You gotta give them a chance, Daria," Dad said.

She put down her book and glared. "Why? So you can watch me stumble over my own feet like you know I will? So I can endure the sycophants that you want to call your peers?"

"Daria, I don't have the time to argue with you," Mom scolded. "This is a great opportunity for you to secure a future in this place, and you're letting it slip by!"

"Maybe she's not as smart as she thinks," Quinn said.

"How can you call this an opportunity?" Daria demanded.

Mom flipped. "That's it! You will go on the dance floor once the musicians resume, young lady, and you will act like you're enjoying yourself. Make at least one social connection by the end of the night, or there will be consequences!"

"Fine." Daria put her book on the table and got up. She looked at Quinn and gave a creepy fake smile through the red blot over her face. "Have fun with your new boy toy. I guarantee he'll be as spoiled, petty, and cruel as everyone else you like."

Quinn stuck her tongue out at Daria. That always felt good.

Daria went off to sulk while Quinn chatted with Mom and Dad. Mom usually nodded off when Quinn told her about things like this. But Mom listened to every boring thing Daria said for some reason, and all she got in return was attitude.

"I'm glad you met this Turimar. He sounds delightful," Mom said.

"Oh, he is, Mom, he really is."

"Maybe we could meet him?" Dad asked.

"How about after the dance? I think the musicians are going to start again pretty soon, and we don't want to rush this," Quinn said.

Mom looked worried for a second. "Speaking of rushing things... as good as Turimar seems, you haven't known him for long. You're still far too young to be married, and I'm concerned that Turimar's family might own—"

Quinn rolled her eyes. Mom loved worrying about things. "Oh my gosh! I'm not going to marry him tonight! But you know, maybe we can start working toward an engagement or something. I can always break it off later if I find someone better."

"That's the spirit!" Dad cheered. Mom didn't seem quite as happy, but turned her attentions back to Dad when the music started.

Quinn left her parents' table, but not fast enough to avoid Jonus, Julien, and Jeval, who swarmed her all at once.

"Quinn, please dance with me! I've been waiting all night!" Jonus begged.

"No, dance with me! I've been waiting since the night before!" Julien fell to his knees.

"Just dance with one of them so they shut up about it," Jeval muttered.

Quinn usually loved to give them little jobs they could fight and argue over, but she wouldn't have time to enjoy it that night.

"You know what? Grow a spine, and I'll be impressed," Quinn said.

"I'll grow the best spine ever!" Jonus promised.

"I'll grow two spines!" Julien countered. "That are also the best ever!"

"Spines don't even work that way, dumbasses," Jeval muttered.

But Quinn was already long gone.

Musical Closer - Oops, I Did It Again, by Britney Spears

Neat little look into Satheri’s mind. Though she shares much of Quinn’s keen fashion preoccupation, she also harbors some provocative insights into the relationship and history of Imperials and Dunmer. I expect she’s not far from the truth.

A well-done family scene during the musicians’ break with Quinn predictably rubbing things in and Daria dourly (but truthfully) pointing out the hypocrisy. Mom focused on networking possibilities and Dad cheerfully oblivious.

"I'll grow two spines!" Julien countered. "That are also the best ever!"

Hey, didn't you say you posted Outlanders in some other forum already? I don't want to read it there if so, I like waiting for each new chapter to be posted. But I'm curious which other forum, if there is one. Maybe I'll join there, if so. Because I don't think Beth has reopened their forums yet, if they ever will.

the red paint idea is great. Fits right in with a culture which evolved from native times, and still has a lot of ashlanders to remind them of where they once were, for sure.

I can see why Satheri is concerned, but I don't think the Imperials would want to wipe out the Dunmer, as they did with the Ayleids. But yes, there is that threat. Those Impies can be heavy-handed at times.

The part when the trio is complaining about dancing is so much like high school. Middle school, everyone would be too nervous to even get out there. This is hilarious, again.



Oh jeez! This is so funny.!

See, I think the answer is not to force Daria on the dance floor (as mom suggests). Her beau, whoever he is, is likely going to be more of an introvert.

Hmm, question is, what is "wrong" with Turimar? Gotta be something...

Satheri seems to have a pretty good grip on just what Imperialism means. And also seems to at least somewhat grasp that while the Dunmer are not in a privileged position vis a vis the Empire, other races are likewise even less privileged vis a vis her own race. Though it looks like she is still a long way from truly understanding how there are many forms of interlocking privelige and oppression. That's ok, I am sure the Empire gets it, that is how Imperialism works, when its effective.

The Three Jeffies reminded me of one of the episodes where they did indeed gang up on someone else who was getting a little too successful with Quinn. I think there was a like a 5-way fight in the parking lot?

Last I checked, wealth wasn't a sign of good character, particularly when it comes to Hlaalu
Thank you Daria, for checking in. And Ooh Burn!

One thing I love about Quinn, is that she always says the quite part out loud. Like how she can always break off the engagement later if she finds someone better. There are no pretexts there.

Chapter 4

Daria wished she'd brought a thicker book with her, since it'd be much more satisfying to hit someone with a heavier tome than with the slender one she had. Clobbering someone with a book wouldn't help (and would, in fact, create more problems), but it was certainly tempting.

She eyed the mob of gallivanting idiots around her and sighed. One social connection. But Mom might as well have asked her to climb Red Mountain.

Hovering at the edge of the party, her arms crossed and her eyes flinty, she almost walked past a skinny young Imperial whose drab brown hair stuck out from his head in wild defiance of gravity. Leaning against the stone wall, he observed the crowd through a gaze of heavy-lidded indifference.

At last, sanity.

"Are you also here to help your family keep up the appearance of imperial patriotism?" Daria asked.

"That and social networking. Though networking is arguably another form of performative patriotism." He turned to face her. "My name is Luhrman."

"Daria," she introduced herself. "My mother insisted that I make one social connection tonight."

"My father gave me a similar dictate."

Daria was sort of impressed at how his monotone rivaled her own.

"Assuming your family meets an arbitrary measure of respectability," she said, "I can probably count you as that connection."

"So long as you return the favor. As for respectability, my father runs a moth-silk import business out in Suran."

"My mother's a lawyer, bringing the Empire's venal legalism to yet another province. So, mission accomplished?"

Luhrman nodded. "It does seem that way."

"Good. Thank you for your time. I'm sure the Empire will remember our contributions to forced socialization."

"Long may our sacrifice be remembered," Luhrman intoned. He turned his gaze back to the party.

Satisfied that she'd completed her mission, Daria stood next to the nearest torch and resumed her book.

*********

"How do I look?" Quinn asked.

She had run over to Satheri and Tiphannia for a touch-up before the next set. She kept watching Turimar out of the corner of her eye. No way would she let some other girl grab him! Lucky for her, he was still hanging out and laughing about guy stuff (probably) with some rich Imperials.

"You look... really... good..."

"I think you're perfect," Satheri gushed. "I wish I had hair like yours. Mine gets all messy once I start moving around."

"Anyone's hair can be perfect with the right treatments!"

"You're sure I'm okay?" Quinn asked.

They both nodded, and Quinn was off. Already she could imagine it: this dull party near a dull city was only the beginning of her ascent. And Turimar could show her the way. He'd been around. He knew things! Might not be easy, but Quinn could beat the competition. No one else knew fashion the way she did, from pore management to proper manicure techniques! Sure, she didn't have the same kinds of beauty routines as a noblewoman, but she knew how to improvise, which was totally better and would probably impress a tough guy like Turimar more anyway.

"... so I was dancing with this hick girl from someplace called Charach," Turimar said to his pals.

Quinn skidded to a halt. She hadn't just heard that. Or maybe there was someone else from back home? Other than Daria?

"That's on some little island, right? She wash up here on a fishing boat?" one of his buddies joked.

"Probably. And she was all going on about her mom being a lawyer or something. Lady, my dad runs the biggest tanna plantations around Narsis. He has a dozen lawyers on his payroll. But one thing I will say is that lowborn girls are always the easiest lays."

He might as well have hit her! Quinn's jaw dropped, her whole body suddenly cold. All that effort, and he didn't care.

"Like that Nord girl who thought you'd killed a monster for her?" Another one of his friends said.

"Yup!"

"You!" Quinn shouted.

They ignored her. She quaked, and she knew right then that her face was the same color red as the paint still on it, which probably made her look weird and blotchy, but she didn't care.

"I'm talking to you!"

Turimar turned. She wanted to see fear in his eyes, like he knew he was really going to get it. That he'd lost his only chance with the best girl in Morrowind, if not all of Tamriel. But he was just wearing that same crooked smile.

Time to let him have it.

"I heard every word! 'Hick girl,' huh? Well, at least I'm not making fun of people when I think they aren't looking, or pretending to be a hero! And I don't care if your dad is some big shot in Narsis or whatever. I think you're trash!"

"Oh no," he said. "Little boat girl thinks I'm trash."

Quinn stomped the floor, clenched her teeth, and grabbed Turimar by the front of his coat, and it felt so damn good to see the sudden shock on his face.

"You'll be sorry," Quinn vowed. "I'll tell everyone what I heard. You're no hero. You never fought a kagouti!"

The shock didn't last long. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off him with ease. "Say whatever you want. You think anyone's going to go against me when it might cost them a business deal with my dad? Hell, I'll tell people whatever I want about you. See if your folks still get any clients after that. I've got big friends in Great House Hlaalu and the Empire."

They all laughed. Turimar, his Imperial friends, the whole gang. Quinn's vision flickered.

This couldn't be happening.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting on the hard stone steps outside the keep and crying her eyes out. Oh gods, she was a mess, she knew. All the makeup mixed with the fake blood, which she'd been so careful to apply just right.

How could he say something like that? Everything she'd worked for was undone. And maybe the same for the rest of her family. She whimpered when she thought of Mom and Dad losing the house because Turimar turned all their clients against them. They'd be poor, and she'd have to gather herbs and crush them to make her own cosmetics or something, and she'd look like a beggar!

This was the worst day of her life.

The door opened behind her, soft footsteps treading on the stone. Satheri sat down beside her before Quinn had time to fix her face.

"Quinn, what happened?"

"Oh, Satheri. It was horrible." Quinn hugged her friend tight, wanting to lose herself in the hug, so that she forgot the entire night. She told her the whole story between sobs.

"Wait, Quinn?"

Quinn sniffed. "Uh huh?"

They let go of each other, but Satheri put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Sometimes guys like to joke about stuff like that to their friends."

And for a second, Quinn almost believed it. That made sense, right? Except it didn't. "No, I don't think it was a joke."

"Well, Turimar is part of Great House Hlaalu, even if he isn't yet a noble," Satheri said, sounding nervous. "My dad says we wouldn't let bad people get that much influence. That's why we're the best great house. And a friend to the Empire."

Quinn blinked. What was Satheri talking about? What did politics have to do with this? Then she got it: everyone still thought Turimar was great. Including Satheri.

For a second, Quinn wanted to shout at Satheri. How could she not get this? But looking at her big, sad eyes, Quinn saw that Satheri wanted to help.

She just had no idea how.

"It's cold; I'm going back inside," Quinn said. Better to go back in. Maybe she could sulk with Daria or something. Daria would believe her about Turimar being a jerk. She thought everyone was a jerk because she was one, too.

"Great! Talk to Turimar again—"

Quinn didn't wait for her to finish before going back through the open gate. Sure enough, Daria stood at the edge of the hall, still reading. A guy stood near her but looked like he was zoning out. Anyway, Quinn didn't want to hear her sister gloat about being right. Jonus and Julien argued about something—probably her—while Jeval danced with a Redguard girl. Good for him.

She didn't want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be alone. So she walked with careful steps toward one of the side doors, hoping it'd lead to a cellar or something where she could stay away from everyone. Pushing it open, she saw a narrow stone landing absolutely packed with people all shouting about something.

"What's going on—"

The crowd parted, and she saw Turimar Shurmam lying on his back with his throat slit wide open.

Musical Closer - Atari Teenage Riot, by Atari Teenage Riot (NSFW Lyrics)

I chuckled all the way through Daria’s two peas in a pod encounter with Luhrman and how it completed the family obligation assigned by her mother.

I knew there was good reason Turimar was emitting so many red flags. Yup, a rich jerk is still a jerk. Poor Quinn. But even in her deep despair, she holds onto her Quinnishness:
’They'd be poor and she'd have to gather herbs and crush them to make her own cosmetics or something and she'd look like a beggar!’

As Quinn was getting ready to head inside, I was wondering if the Dark Brotherhood operated in Morrowind so she could pray to the Night Mother. . . or if it was the Morag Tong that did that kind of thing in TES III. . . . Then, there he was all properly taken care of! I wonder who Quinn has to thank for that? Of course, being falsely accused of murdering Turimar due to her earlier and quite visible argument with him could be a bit of a problem too.

Thanks for the Fandom site, I'll check it out this weekend. Fandom is an annoying conglomeration of sites it seems, with all their pop-up ads. But maybe that's the point. If I join there, maybe all those pop-ups go away.

My middle school dance floor experiences were better than my high school ones! Middle school was all about puppy-love crushes, whereas high school was too much expectation, and even more disappointment!

Ahem. Luhrman seems ideal for Daria. Even more ideal than Quinn's current crush. Aw nice. They even have the same off-brand, offhand humor. This is so cute! ... No, don't go back to your book Daria! What are ya doing, girl???

OTOH, I already feel really bad for the Mall Princess. She's going to get let down somehow. It'll be more like my high school experience at Senior Prom. Oh crap.

Yeah, kick his ass, Quinn. Arrogant losers like him. Even though she is quite arrogant herself, and maybe shouldn't have thrown herself at the guy..

WHOA... Whaaat????

Poor Daria, geased with a quest to climb the Red Mountain of making a social connection. Yeesh, you would think the first quest would be easier, like fighting rats...

When Lurhman speaks I hear it in the voice of Stephen Wright. He reminds me of the guy from the wedding episode, who Daria hung out with for a little while.

Oh boy, buckle up Quinn. Tommy Sherman is not going to be impressed with you pore routine!

Wow, that was fast. Tommy Sherman shoes his true colors. Not just to Quinn, but that Nord girl too. No monster slayer is Tommy. He is the monster.

Satheri started out so strong, being a real, standup friend doing Quinn a solid. Then she totally lost the thread with her misconception of House Hlaalu's sterling ethics.

Okay, I know the episode from the TV episode. But I was not expecting the guy to have his throat slit. A decorative pylon fall on him - or some other form of accident - sure. But not outright murder. Then again, this is Morrowind. It is easier than ever to hire the Morag Thong to do someone in. Figuring out who was behind it... well, half the province has motive...

Chapter 5

Quinn screamed as loud as she could.

But some part of her was actually kind of glad he was dead.

"Dammit, troopers! I told you to watch the exit!" came a voice. "Keep anyone else from getting in, we don't want to start a panic."

The soldiers nearest Quinn pulled her inside and then marched out the door she'd opened, closing it behind them. The only people left in the room were three legionnaires (one was Maiko, Jolda's friend who might also be her boyfriend on the down-low), Turimar's dead body, and a woman in the creepiest outfit Quinn had ever seen. The woman's face was wrapped up in dark netch leather like she was some kind of mummy, and she wore these crazy mismatched goggles where the right eyepiece was huge and the left one was a cluster of little lenses like a bug's eye. She was mostly covered up, but the few bare spots showed gray skin, so she was a Dunmer.

She held a bloody dagger in one gloved hand and a scroll in the other.

"Quinn Morgendorffer, right? I met your sister at the Talori party a few months ago," Maiko said.

"Uh, yeah."

"Take it easy; you're not in any trouble. Nothing's going to happen to you. You just had the bad luck to stumble into a sensitive situation."

"An insulting situation," growled the other soldier, and he gave the weird woman a nasty look.

"What happened?" Quinn started. Then she pointed at the woman. "Did she kill him?"

Maiko took a deep breath. "So before anything else, I'm going to have to ask you to be brave."

Quinn shivered. "Oh no. No one ever asks that when something good's going to happen!"

And this looked anything but good. A murder, a murderer, and a bunch of soldiers who didn't seem to be doing anything. This was like one of those coups or something!

"No, you're fine. No one else is going to die tonight," Maiko said, and he was so calm and sure that Quinn could almost believe him so long as she didn't look at Turimar's bloody corpse.

Maiko turned to the other soldier. "Sir Varro. May I make a recommendation?"

Varro made a grumbling sound. "Go ahead."

"I think it may be better to tell Quinn what happened here. We are trying to clamp down on rumors after all."

"Are you serious? This wisp of a girl? She'll gossip about it to all her friends."

Quinn shook her head. "I won't, sir."

"I trust her," Maiko said.

Varro thought about it a bit and glared at the woman again. "Very well. I suppose rumors will spread regardless of what we do."

"Quinn," Maiko said. "I'll explain what happened. But you need to promise not to tell anyone else. We will release the news later, but telling everyone now might scare some of the guests. Imperial policy is to avoid spreading panic in these situations. We definitely don't want to spoil Pelinal's Day for anyone."

Quinn's head was spinning. "Sure. I won't tell."

"Okay. Have you heard about the Morag Tong?"

The name sounded familiar. "Aren't they those thugs who really hate outlanders?"

Maiko shook his head. "No, that's the Camonna Tong. The Morag Tong is the traditional assassins' association of the Dunmer. One of their agents here," he said, pointing at the woman, "killed Turimar. But, under the terms of the Armistice, Morag Tong killings are legal."

"What? How does that even make sense? You can't just kill people and get away with it!" Quinn protested.

"No, not normally," Maiko said. "The Morag Tong only kill members of the great houses. It's basically how the great houses handle conflicts. A few targeted assassinations are less disruptive than a full-on war."

She'd never heard of this. "So these guys go out of their way to kill the rich and popular people?"

This changed everything! How was she supposed to enjoy being married to a high-ranking Hlaalu if she always had to worry about this? Then she looked at Turimar's body and thought about all the awful things he'd said.

Did she want to marry someone in Great House Hlaalu?

Dammit, Daria had been right. About Turimar, anyway. And what about Satheri? She'd taken Turimar's side... but maybe she wouldn't have if she'd seen what happened.

"Dunmer culture has a peculiar way of acknowledging the great chain of being," Varro grumbled. "In the west, simple men are honored to fight in the name of those greater than them. Among these savages, those who are great are expected to die from a knife in the dark so that lesser men might live."

Except Turimar was about as far from great as it got. She wondered if there was some other noble like him back in Cyrodiil or High Rock who people would've fought to defend back in the old days. The Dunmer way kind of made more sense.

"And make no mistake, assassin," Varro continued. "Legal or not, this was an insult! To kill a friend of the Empire on Pelinal's Day, on Imperial grounds—"

The woman held up the scroll. "The Morag Tong apologizes if there has been any inconvenience," she said. "We are happy to cooperate with law enforcement officials, and any complaints about operative performance or discretion should be directed to the grandmaster through proper channels."

"It's true. She didn't break any law," Maiko said.

"Maybe not. But it's not customary. Usually, you people wait until your target is in one of your cities. Maiko, arrest her and keep her in a cell. She'll be free to go when the guests leave. I will be filing a complaint."

"Wait!" Quinn said, holding out her hand. She was a little surprised she'd actually said it, but she needed to know more. "Can I ask her a few more questions?"

Varro rolled his eyes and then made a hurry-up gesture.

Looking at the assassin, she asked, "Why did you kill Turimar?"

"A public writ of execution was commissioned for his death, and I was selected to perform the service."

"I see. Who wanted him dead?"

Other than me, she thought.

"The Morag Tong respects the privacy of its clients and will not reveal their identities. Operatives are not told the names or affiliations of their clients."

"I guess that makes sense. Can anyone hire you guys to kill someone they don't like?" Was that how it worked in Morrowind? How close had she come to getting killed? Everyone was jealous of popular people.

"No. The Morag Tong is honored to work closely with the Empire, the Tribunal Temple, and the great houses of Morrowind. We have an extensive vetting process for clients. Similarly, we are also judicious in the targets we choose, who are always high-ranking members of a great house."

Quinn realized she was shaking and that she'd totally forgotten to clean up after her crying jag outside. Too bad she didn't have a mask like the assassin.

"So I don't have to worry about getting killed by you guys? And my family doesn't either?"

"Morag Tong policy is to avoid targeting those who are not members of a great house. However, should an individual unaffiliated with a great house defend a target during the commission of an assignment, we cannot guarantee that the operative will not use lethal force against said individual."

"I guess I understand."

"Should you have any further questions, feel free to visit the Morag Tong office in Balmora. The office is open from sunrise to sundown, Morndas through Loredas. One of our representatives will be happy to meet with you."

"You guys have a public office? And anyone can walk in?" Somehow, of all the weird things she'd come across that night, that one felt the weirdest.

"The Morag Tong seeks to be an active and constructive part of the communities in which it works."

"Did you memorize a script for this sort of thing?"

That time, the assassin responded in a much lower voice. "Trust me, kid, the script makes things way easier."

"Enough," Varro. "Maiko, take her away."

Maiko stepped up to the assassin. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to put you in a cell. We will release you in the morning."

She didn't say anything as Maiko and the other soldier marched her down the staircase. Now it was just Varro.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, citizen. As Maiko said, you must not tell anyone what you saw here for the next few days. We'll be releasing the news to the Dunmer of Great House Hlaalu first. This concerns them more than it does us. The rest will be informed later, at which point you're free to tell anyone if you're so inclined."

"Sure, I'll stay quiet until then." And she would. Quinn was too tired to do or think of much.

"Very good. You're in the Empire's service now, Citizen Morgendorffer," he said, giving a salute.

She returned it and then walked back to the main hall, her head spinning. Everyone there was still partying. Musicians played, people danced. She saw Mom and Dad stumbling through another gavotte with Jolda's mom and dad.

Somehow, it all seemed silly.

"Muthsera Morgendorffer!"

Satheri ran up to her, all out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you! Are you okay? You aren't mad at me, are you? You left so quickly, I wasn't sure. Oh gosh, I'm so sorry if I offended you—"

"It's fine, Satheri. Really." She was too tired to argue.

"That's a relief. Did you talk to Turimar? I'm sure he's sorry that he made you mad. But it's okay if you don't want to."

Quinn didn't say anything. All she could think of was the blood pooling out under his body and the way his mouth was stuck in an open position, the tops of his teeth peeking out from behind his cold lips.

"You know what? Let's just forget about boys tonight," Quinn said.

"That's a great idea! Come on, my mom wants to know where you got your dress!"

Quinn let Satheri take her by the arm and drag her to the Dunmer table, where Turimar had been sitting not that long ago.

Musical Closer - Let Me See, by Morcheeba

Looks like I guessed right. It was the Morag Thong.

I don't blame Quinn for her confusion. it is so hard to keep those thongs straight.

"So these guys go out of their way to kill the rich and popular people?"
That's not how its supposed to be!!!

Quinn gets a crash course in Morrowind assassination etiquette. If she is disappointed, I am sure the Dark Brotherhood would be willing to kill people for her that are not members of the great houses. Is there even a DB questline in Morrowind? I don't remember.

I did like the acknowledgement by the assassin that there was a script they have to give the pitch to outlanders like Quinn. It makes a lot of sense that they would have something like that.

Like Quinn, I was pleased to see Turimar dead and Quinn not on the hook for it.

I do agree with her that the Morag Tong is certainly an odd concept. Guild of legal assassins? No problem. Fashion guild? Oh, that’ll take years of bureaucratic red tape to approve. Having learned what little I know about the Morag Tong from ESO, I found Maiko’s explanation very informative.

I chuckled as Quinn pondered the whole idea of the risks involved in being popular and ‘important’ in Morrowind.

Whether intentional on Satheri’s part or not, she probably could not have suggested a more appropriate post-shock therapy for Quinn than having her talk about her dress.

Part of Quinn is glad the guy has been killed! That's something a lot of us say at one time or another -- "I wish he were dead". Part of Quinn actually is okay with this! She's a bit cold, eh? She also has no problem sticking around while the officials start to dig into their work. Quinn's a bit like my daughter, actually!

"We definitely don't want to spoil Pelinal's Day for anyone."-- Oh, I think we're way beyond spoiling!

Morag Tong kills can be really difficult in the base game. Especially without mods, all the NPCs stand around like statues, and I notice a lot of MT targets happen to be placed into areas which are indoors, and usually populated. So it doesn't surprise me Turimar got gotten at the height of the celebration. Well, it sounds like Turimar had gotten separated from the others, but still...

... I wonder where all of this is leading! Quinn seems awfully interested in the Tong. :

-------------------

I think we have a discrephancy with the Fandom term here. Here is an example of what I am talking about --> The Fallout Fandom website, which I rely on quite a lot. -- Wait for it (if you go there). Pop pop pop pop go the ads! The Space Battles & Daria Wiki sites are not the same.

I think you are using the term "fandom" as more a catchall phrase, I thought you meant the actual Fandom site (which has a bunch of games associated with it, not just Fallout).

Alles klar der Komissar?

Chapter 6

The news broke a few days later, just like Maiko had said. Mom and Dad made a big deal about it, scared that Quinn would be traumatized or something. She didn't tell them about what she'd heard Turimar say. Thinking about that still hurt.

"It's fine, Mom. I mean, it's sad; I get it, but it wasn't like I'd known him for long. I'm okay."

And she did feel okay, except she kind of wished she didn't. Turimar was a bad guy, for sure, but weren't you supposed to think nice things about the dead? But there wasn't anything nice to say about him. Plus, if he were still alive, would he really try to keep Mom and Dad from getting clients? Maybe he'd only said that to scare her. But he had a lot of money and power. He could've done that if he'd wanted to. If it were a choice between him being alive and Mom and Dad having jobs...

She didn't know what to think.

Quinn didn't have any lectures at the academy that Morndas, so she stayed home and helped Mom at the office. She finished her work and went to her room to be by herself a while, which usually wasn't something she ever wanted to be. Maybe that's how Daria got started. She was looking out the window toward the end of the day, the sky all hot and red over Balmora, when Daria came home, her booted feet thudding on the floor.

"Hey, Daria," Quinn said, still looking outside.

"Uh, hi."

The room got quiet. Quinn wanted to say something but wasn't sure how. There was so much stuff in her head!

"Sorry again about your dancing partner," Daria said.

"I'm not. You were right about him. He was a bad guy."

"Quinn, did he hurt you?" Daria actually sounded mad all of a sudden.

Quinn moved away from the window and looked at her sister, her clothes as drab as always. "No. Well, he hurt my feelings."

She explained what happened, all the nasty things he'd said, what he'd threatened to do, and how Satheri had made excuses for him.

Daria sighed. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Quinn."

"You aren't going to gloat and say, 'I told you so'?"

"I have some tact." Daria sat down on her bed.

"That's not all that happened. You know how he was murdered?"

"Uh huh."

"I saw the body. And I saw the creepy lady who did it! The Morag Tong or whatever," Quinn said.

"Wait, Quinn, why didn't you tell Mom and Dad?"

"Because Maiko said it'd cause a panic if I told everyone! I promised him I'd keep quiet. But it felt weird. I keep thinking about how broken Turimar looked when he was dead. And I feel bad, sort of. But I'm kind of glad, too."

"Considering he was threatening to put us in the poorhouse, I'll be glad for the both of us. The thing is, Quinn, powerful people usually aren't good people."

"But aren't they supposed to be? Like, that's why they're powerful. The gods help good people so that they can help the rest of us. Like the emperor. He's good, right?"

"I think he's a man with a very hard job. Look at it this way: was Turimar powerful?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah."

"Was he good?"

"No. I don't think so. Satheri does."

"Why is that?"

Quinn hesitated. "I think it's because she wants to see the good in everyone?" Which was sort of true. But then she thought of something else. "Or because they were both Hlaalu."

"You got it right the second time."

"So Great House Hlaalu is bad, then. But now what do I do? Try to marry into some other great house? Hlaalu's the only one where the guys might marry outlander girls like us. I guess I can move back to Cyrodiil and find a human noble there."

"It's not only the Hlaalu." Daria leaned forward, her eyes getting kind of intense. "Think about Pelinal."

"The guy whose day it was?" Quinn didn't get how he fit into this.

"What did the priestess say about him?"

"I wasn't paying attention, but I know he fought a lot of Mer. Bad Mer."

"He fought the Ayleids," Daria said. "What kinds of Ayleids do you think he killed?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not some kind of history geek! Like warriors or something."

"So when he stormed their cities and burned them to the ground, do you think he only killed warriors?"

"Uh, I guess?" But Quinn didn't believe it. A city was full of people. Women, kids, old people. "No. He must've killed girls like us, too."

"The popular histories leave that bit out, but the older ones tell the whole story. Pelinal was a vicious fanatic. One time he slaughtered a whole tribe of Khajiit simply because he associated them with Mer."

Quinn shook her head. "But that can't be! Why would we celebrate someone like that?"

"Because he did help our ancestors overthrow the Ayleids. Who did do horrible things to us. Also, because people like having a hero. Almost every human in that room thought Pelinal was a great guy, just like Satheri thought Turimar was one."

"Daria, I'm not as smart as you! What are you trying to say?"

"Just that you can't always trust what people tell you."

"Then who do I trust?"

"Your own sense," Daria said. "You saw that Turimar was a bad guy. You don't have to pretend he was good."

"So we shouldn't have any heroes?"

Daria looked unsure for a moment. "I guess pick them carefully. Personally, I'm used to disappointment, so I try not to think much of anyone. That way, I don't feel too bad when they turn out to be crummy. But if you see someone who tries to help, who's fair-minded and doesn't abuse their power, then it's probably okay to consider them provisionally good until you get sufficient evidence to the contrary."

Quinn giggled. "That's kind of a lot, Daria. I don't think I'm ever going to be that cynical. But I get what you mean. Everyone wants to believe that there are great people out there looking out for them. I know that makes me feel good. Maybe some of those great people really are great! But you can't take it for granted."

Daria smiled. "I think you're a quick learner."

"Only when it comes to important things." Quinn stood up. She realized she'd been inside all day! "You know, I might drop by Satheri's house, just to say hi."

"Hmm. Do you think you can trust her?"

"I'm kind of mad at what she said. But I think she'd have taken my side if she'd heard Turimar. She just wasn't ready to believe he was bad."

Daria took off her glasses, squinting as she examined the dusty lenses. "Personally, I wouldn't give her a second chance. But she's your friend, not mine. So not my call to make."

"Right. Thanks, sister."

"Don't get all mushy on me," Daria said, putting her glasses back on and grabbing the nearest book.

Quinn laughed as she put on her shoes and walked downstairs, ready to actually have some fun.

Musical Closer - Charm Attack, by Leona Naess

The End

I agree with Quinn. There's nothing nice to say or think about somebody who plays that kind of trick on a girl. Boom, There it is.

But also wow, think about that as the very last thing the guy did. I mean, the very last moments of Turimar's life, he's playing a trick on somebody who's fawning over him. And then he high-fives with his buds as she gets upset. What a moment for him to fall! Nothing epic, or noble, no trying to save somebody's life, none of that. He played a trick on somebody he just met, and also threatened her family! And this just happens to be the moment when a writ for his life gets carried out.



That's so classic! - The princess sister must rely on the smart sister on occasion, for help. So true, so true.

These last couple episodes aren't so humorous, which is OK actually. Sometimes Outlanders can get so funny, I worry I'm about to break a rib or something!

A very well-done, deep conversation between the sisters.

The first part was a nice contrast between Quinn’s naivete and Daria’s deep knowledge of history. It was nice to see Daria being sympathetic and showing, in her own way, she really does care for her princess sister.

The second part of the conversation then provided nice balance by contrasting Quinn’s optimism with Daria’s darker view of mer/human nature. I chuckled when Daria said she would not give Satheri a second chance; I remembered how Jane did indeed give Daria a second chance after her intemperate remarks about the Three.

It was good of you to show the turmoil within Quinn. On one hand you have the empathy that most people feel for someone who has died. OTOH, you have the schadenfreude of seeing an asshat get their comeuppance. On the third hand there is just the pragmatism of understanding that this might have been a literal threat to Quinn and her family. It is a confusing mess. It really makes you think...

Oh no! Quinn fell for the prosperity gospel of power. People have power because they are good. Not because they exploited a huge amount of other people to amass and maintain that power.

And a nice talk with Daria, who rather than swooped in for the kill, displayed that fact that yes, she does possess an empathetic nature beneath all the armor of cynicism that she has built up over the years to protect herself.

Episode 9: The History Girls

Note: Special thanks to Atiyatortilla, mod and member of the Lawndale-high Message Board for the valuable feedback she provided!

Chapter 1

At least Sera Dimartani wasn't boring.

Daria watched as the rangy Dunmer marched from one end of the dusty classroom to the other, his cadaverous features twisting in rage as he described a choice sampling of the atrocities and wars that comprised Tamrielic history. The material wasn't new to her; she'd studied plenty on her own, her mind absorbing the Empire's complex political and economic realities while also watching for gruesome facts with which she could torment Quinn.

Nonetheless, the threat of explosive rage—or possibly apoplexy—on Dimartani's part added a certain lingering tension to each lecture.

"Who here can tell me why the EMPIRE, fresh from its victories in the west, chose to annex Morrowind through TREATY rather than conquest?"

Dimartani's skull-like visage swiveled to face the seated students, his left eye bulging in its socket. Only silence for a few long moments until Briltasi raised her skinny arm.

"YES?"

"Uh," she said, twirling one of her platinum ponytails around a finger, "was it because the Empire really liked us and didn't want to fight?"

"Your NAIVETE continues to impress! Anyone ELSE?"

Daria hesitated. The longer it took to get a response, the more likely Dimartani would flip out in an entertaining way. On the other hand, the murky politics behind the Armistice had always interested her. But Jolda beat Daria to the punch and raised her hand.

"Jolda!"

"Though the Empire would have eventually won a military conflict against Morrowind, victory would have been costly in both finances and personnel. Thus, Emperor Tiber Septim invited the Tribunal to sign the Armistice late in the Second Era, allowing Morrowind more autonomy than most provinces while also peacefully spreading the Empire's values of free trade and the rule of law."

"Very good, albeit SLIGHTLY one-sided!" Dimartani bellowed. "The nature of the HLAALU-approved curriculum prevents me from giving my own thoughts on the matter. Suffice to say, Jolda's DESCRIPTION is accurate. Well-done!"

Jolda had navigated it well. She'd made it clear the Empire had been in charge, while also throwing a bone to the Dunmer by giving some credit to the Tribunal. It fit the standard Imperial-Hlaalu narrative.

Of course, Jolda hadn't mentioned the uglier details, like the Imperial monopolists profiting by outsourcing to Morrowind's slave labor.

"Few of you know that next Middas marks the FOUR-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-FIFTH anniversary of the Armistice! In honor of this auspicious, or perhaps DOLOROUS, day, I am assigning an essay in which you will share YOUR thoughts on the Armistice and how it affects YOU! Assuming, of course, that you have the mental CAPACITY to understand how history affects the present! This will be due TOMORROW!"

Briltasi raised her hand again.

"Yes, Serjo TALORI?"

Briltasi lowered her hand. "Uh, if the Armistice thing is next Middas, then shouldn't the essay also be due next Middas?"

"An ASTUTE observation, Serjo Talori! The reason for the date is because the writer of the best essay will get to RECITE it for our honored director at the Armistice FESTIVAL next week!"

Daria noted that she now had a good reason to write a subpar essay. The last thing she wanted was to help Director Lli in any way, shape, or form.

"Are they going to do anything cool for this festival?" Julien asked from the back row. "The last one was lame."

Dimartani growled. "They'll do the same thing they ALWAYS do: display propaganda for the Empire and Great House HLAALU in hopes of getting more funding!" He spoke the name of the great house with particular scorn, which struck Daria as odd—wasn't he subject to them?

The lunch break arrived, Drenlyn's courtyard bright and sizzling under the summer sun. Daria roasted in her worn orange shirt and long black skirt. The shade of her bug-shell hat offered only scarce relief as a bead of sweat rolled down one cheek. How did someplace so far north get so damn hot? she wondered. She lifted her hand to keep the glare out of her eyes and walked with Jane to the library, where they pressed themselves against the west wall to get whatever shade they could find.

"Lli always makes a big deal about the Armistice Festival," Jane said. "Her hope's that some Imperial or Hlaalu bigwig will see it and be so impressed that they invite her to a high-level networking party. You know, the kind with real nobles."

"Since it sounds like she's done this several times already, I'm guessing she hasn't had much luck."

Jane laughed. "One time some bureaucrat from Ebonheart came by. Stood up halfway through, looking really confused, and asked if it was the Marcolo wedding. He got out of there pretty quick once he found out it wasn't."

"Nothing warms my heart quite like Lli being disappointed. Speaking of which, I'm going to have to stretch my writing muscles tonight."

Jane arched an eyebrow. "Why, Morgendorffer! I never figured you'd be one to try and impress the authorities."

"On the contrary," Daria said. "I need to write at a level bad enough to ensure I won't be picked to give a speech for Lli. Do you have any idea how many good writing habits I'm going to have to break?"

"Hmm, that might be tough. Here's an idea! Hang out with Briltasi for a while. You'll be writing at her level before you know it!"

"I'm not willing to suffer quite that much for my art."

Jane shook her head. "Amateur."

*********

The walls of the Morgendorffer home offered some sanctuary from the sweltering afternoon. Sweat cooling on her brow, Daria walked to the kitchen and made a quick meal of bread and scuttle before trudging up the narrow stairs to her room. Daria usually napped when she came home from school, at least on the days when Mom didn't dragoon her into office work. But that day she itched to get started and knew it'd be best to do it while Quinn was still out visiting with friends.

Once in her room, she opened the window and looked out onto the rows of blocky Balmora homes shimmering in the summer heat. Warm air wafted inside as she put a paper on the surface of her desk, sat down, and gathered her thoughts.

Of all the students in Dimartani's class, only Jolda and Karl could rival her in writing ability. The rest offered little more than ink dribbles. So how best to imitate that? She pictured Briltasi:

"The Armistice is like, super-important to me because I like getting fancy perfumes from the Imperial City! And my daddy's rich, so I can get lots of them!"

Daria shook her head. No way was she going to stoop that low. A losing entry was one thing; having her writing confused with Briltasi's quite another.

Perhaps dullness made for a better tack than stupidity. She leaned back in the chair and looked up at the wooden beams in the ceiling. They wanted the winning essay to be propaganda, right? The one thing propaganda could never afford to be was genuinely informative. She turned the idea over in her mind. What if she wrote a dry-as-bone account of the Armistice? In that case, it'd be best to focus on the economic factors. No one liked reading about those (except her, from time to time). She pictured the opening paragraph.

The Armistice that brought Morrowind into the Empire's fold was a practical measure necessitated by Emperor Tiber Septim's need to maintain and cultivate a reliable tax base among the entrepots of the eastern Heartlands...

Daria smiled. It was dry and made no concessions to the reader's interest or comfort. She stood up to collect a few books for research purposes, eager to be as exacting as possible.

For the next few hours, she read, referenced, and wrote. No detail escaped her pen. After all, who wouldn't want to know the price of a pound of saltrice in late 2nd Era Cyrodiil? She became like a machine that sorted facts on the basis of how boring they were (even if she did have to admit a certain grudging interest in how grubby the Armistice was when put under scrutiny, all the gods and emperors merely a silkscreen behind which middle managers made history).

The setting sun had painted her room a lurid red by the time Daria finished a few pages. She sighed, picked up the first sheaf, and held it up to the light. Her text, detail-oriented and without an ounce of conviction or opinion, was sure to be ignored. It'd earn the obscurity she craved, but she somehow didn't want to turn it in. The essay made her feel more like a copyist than a writer, its information regurgitated and artlessly thrown together. She'd always thought of herself as better than that.

She frowned. Why did she have to do this? Lli just wanted to find student propagandists to boost her own iffy social standing. The whole situation was pretty ridiculous.

As ridiculous as the Empire being in Morrowind in the first place.

Sudden giddiness welled up through her exhaustion. Why not tell them what she truly thought? That greed, more than anything else, had driven the Empire's annexation of Morrowind.

Daria slammed a new paper on the desk and grabbed her quill. Words jumped from brain to page, her hand hurrying to keep up so that the neat letters all but ran into each other.

Like so much else, the Empire's rule over Morrowind is built on the lie of Imperial beneficence. What Morrowind's conquerors called law turned out to be criminality. What they called order only covered for corruption. And don't worry, various Dunmer great houses, both pro- and anti-Empire, I'm coming after you as well, she wrote.

Shadows stretched as sunset turned to night, and Daria paused only to light an already half-spent candle. Quinn came in and spouted a few trivialities before sitting next to Daria with a pile of socks, her small hands deftly guiding needle and thread to patch the threadbare parts. They ignored each other, Daria hearing only the scratch of pen against paper.

The candle had dwindled to a nub by the time she finished, the night air still thick and warm on her skin. Four pages of anger rested on the desk before her; all her frustration poured out and ready to be justified by rejection. They wouldn't accept something that scared them.

A sudden and stabbing pain jabbed from her eyes to her forehead. Darkness, the distortion of her lenses, and hours of writing had all taken their toll at once. She closed her eyes and massaged them. The pain stayed when she stopped and opened them again. Daria heard steady breathing and looked over to Quinn's bed. Her sister slumbered, looking perfect in repose.

Going back over what she wrote, she realized she couldn't turn it in. The Empire tolerated and even encouraged veiled criticism. Hers was far too explicit. She'd gotten so carried away in the flow of words that she'd lost sight of the fact that too much scorn toward the powers that be would only bring trouble to her family. Probably not legal trouble. But she couldn't be absolutely sure.

The core still worked. She only needed to change the tone. Official histories told the broad truth; they simply did it obliquely. She knew how to follow suit. Take away anything that directly blamed the Empire, throw in a few laudatory comments about the Septim Dynasty and Great House Hlaalu, and insert the truth in between. Not wanting to start another candle, Daria took the stub and crept downstairs with her essay and a few fresh papers in hand. Sure enough, Mom was still working in her office.

"Oh, hello, Daria! Late night?" Mom raised her tired gaze from a pile of casework on her desk.

"For both of us, apparently. I've got this essay I'm supposed to write for Dimartani. I have a rough draft here," she said, holding up the finished work, "but I want to spruce it up a bit."

Mom brightened. "Well, you're more than welcome to my candlelight! I'm still slogging through that Ralaalo case—I don't know why it's so hard for some of these Hlaalu types to understand Imperial patent law!"

"I suppose patent law is part of our civilizing mission?"

"I'm not sure I'd call our mission all that civilizing. What's your essay about?"

Daria sat down at the edge of the desk, curling her arm around the papers to block her mother's view. "Oh, just a little bit on the Armistice."

"I'd be happy to take a look."

"That's okay, Mom. I got this."

"Oh, I'm sure. Not many people your age know as much about Tamrielic history as you do. It's a talent, Daria. Nurture it."

A little embarrassed, Daria nodded and got to work on the final draft.

Like so much else, the Empire's rule in Morrowind is built on the canny pragmatism that has influenced so much of its expansion. Put simply, Morrowind had resources that Emperor Tiber Septim needed to guarantee the Empire's security. As for the Dunmer, trade was simply more profitable (not to mention safer) than fighting back, she began.

A decent enough start for something destined for the rejection pile.

She hoped.

Musical Closer - Seether, by Veruca Salt

I loved Mr. DiMartino! He always looks like that one eye is going to pop out any second, and he is going to keel over from a massive heart attack and/or stroke.

I always loved his very unique way of speaking, which involved adding heavy emphasis on certain words for no apparent reason what so ever. Which I see you inCORporated into the TEXT!

I see Principal Li is the same as ever. Yay for shameless self-promotion at the expense of the student body!

I loved Daria's scathing view of the armistice being the triumph of middle-management over the hum-drum parade of the usual gods and emperors!

Uh uh, she's going to go all Lisa Simpson and put down what she really thinks on paper! Cesspool on the Potomac!

Not being familiar with the TV show, I appreciate your links on new characters as you introduce them. The link for Dimartani made him particularly easy and enjoyable to envision.

So, Daria's mission is to write an essay that is predestined to not be selected the winner.

"Hmm, that might be tough. Here's an idea! Hang out with Briltasi for a while. You'll be writing at her level before you know it!"
- - A hilarious approach but so very not Daria that no one would believe she wrote it.

Go with a boring, overly studious approach? Not a bad path, for it would cause no harm to her reputation or that of her family.

Actually write what she thinks? Maybe not the best approach due to the possible repercussions that Daria herself recognizes.

Incorporate her thoughts but woven amongst enough Imperial and Hlaalu platitudes as to avoid the negative repercussions of her ‘real truth’ version. Hmm, could be a fine essay – which is exactly the problem. I have a feeling that if this is the path she takes, her essay may be chosen as the winner.

Honestly, Daria, I’d go with the ‘do no harm’ approach and submit the overly studious one.

Trying to get my bearings on the story. I recognize the art-style of the characters like in your avatar but I'm not familiar with the TV show. I'm rarely a fan of crossovers, but that's a creative choice of media you took to make the crossover with. And it's neat to get the perspective of "regular" people in this story.

I also appreciate the shout-out to TESA: Redguard that you made in your first post of this story. Morrowind gets the credit for starting the "modern" direction of TES lore, but that credit belongs to Redguard. One could even argue that it started with Battlespire. But I digress.

Anyway, obviously I haven't read the whole story, but in your second-to-latest post (Chapter 8, Episode 6), something that personally resonated with me was the talk about heroes, particularly Pelinal. I won't drone on too much, but over the years in real life, I've learned to not put anybody on some sort of hero pedestal, but there are people who I greatly respect. And lot of people in history and today are more complicated than simply "hero" or "villain", and sometimes the people we most revere are responsible for some horrific actions. I'm particularly wary of cults of personality, which I think are rampant in today's society. (The song "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour is as relevant as ever.) But again, I digress.

Chapter 2

Daria reached Drenlyn in a state of exhaustion. The rush from all the writing had left her spent, and the morning heat sapped her vigor at every step. Her mind still taut with expectation, she walked with Jane toward Dimartani's class.

"For someone trying to write a losing essay, you sure went all out," Jane said. "Five pages? That's practically a manifesto!"

"I figured if I'm going to try and fail, I might as well do it in style."

"You should do what I did. Three paragraphs that each more or less say the Empire is great. It's the same one I used last year."

"Normally, I'd say that's a shoo-in for failure, but considering the competition, you might be near the top of the class."

"I don't think I have to worry about winning with that monstrosity in the running," Jane said, pointing to Daria's essay.

"Trust me. The content guarantees it'll be thrown out."

Part of her wished that she'd turned in her more incendiary early draft, which she'd consigned to an incendiary end that morning, using it as fuel for the stove at breakfast. This one at least stayed in the bounds of acceptable criticism. She didn't deny the Empire's rapaciousness. She only described it with neutral words that gave the casual reader enough room to justify such actions as pragmatism.

Somehow, turning it in still felt a bit like defeat.

Her anxiety faded over the next few days, burned away by the scorching summer and the daily frustrations of life in Balmora. Nothing would happen because nothing ever did. Corrupt, sprawling, and elephantine, the Empire would abide.

Students slouched their way to school on a Fredas morning when the blazing sun seemed to leech the very color out of the city. At least all that adobe insulated the classroom interiors. Dimartani began speaking as soon as the students sat down.

"Your essays were, for the most part, as ignorant and TRIVIAL as I'd expected, though I supposed they at least demonstrated basic LITERACY! There were, however, a HANDFUL of entries that demonstrated real knowledge."

His distended left eye bulged as it scanned the classroom, focusing on Jolda, Karl, and then on Daria. She tensed up a bit. The writing quality of her essay might've made it stand out, but no way would Dimartani let such a critical piece win.

Unless she'd veiled her criticisms a bit too heavily.

"As such, it is my honor to present to you the WINNER, and the person who will be READING this essay next week."

He breathed in. "DARIA MORGENDORFFER!"

Daria blinked.

"Told you a five-page essay is overdoing it," Jane whispered. "You need some slacking lessons. Want Trent to teach you?"

*********

Daria waited until after class ended to speak with Dimartani. She tried to mentally rehearse her protests but kept faltering. The only way to argue against him was to know why he'd accepted the essay in the first place.

Dimartani stood at the head of the room as the students filtered out into the torrid mid-afternoon light.

"Sera Dimartani," Daria said.

"Ah! Your essay was a FASCINATING piece of writing. I admired your honesty and dedication to the facts, unenCUMBERED by flimsy propaganda!"

Interesting. She'd underestimated him. "Thank you. May I ask why you chose my essay to be the winning entry? I think you know as well as I do that there's no way Director Lli would let me read something like that. She wants propaganda, the way you said."

He made a noise that might have been a laugh. "Our honorable director is far too BUSY to actually look at these essays. She THINKS that you're all good little drones. I'm PLEASED to see that she's wrong."

Daria crossed her arms. "Look. I meant everything I wrote in that essay. But what do you think's going to happen to me if I read that out loud? Lli's corrupt, but she isn't stupid. My essay doesn't condemn the Empire, but it's not exactly the feel-good, rah-rah-rah piece she's expecting. From where I see it, you're potentially getting me in trouble just to make a point."

"Some would argue that the point NEEDS to be made!"

"You know, the reason I wrote that essay was to avoid being picked. I figured that revealing some of the ugly truths behind the Armistice would make it way too controversial to win."

"Daria, I was GENUINELY impressed. No one else in Balmora cares about the truth. I'm sick of rewarding BOOTLICKERS with more opportunities for self-promotion! Sycophants are KILLING Morrowind, Daria! And I DOUBT they're any better for the Empire!"

"That sounds like a personal problem." Daria sighed. "I don't want any part of this fight, but I'm guessing you can't—or won't—pick someone else."

He scowled, the dark veins veins in his left eye seeming to bulge out from the red membrane. "You ought to show a little more RESPECT! I am still your teacher and I have given YOU, an OUTLANDER, the opportunity to make a difference!"

Daria wanted to keep staring, as if the sheer force of her annoyance would burn a hole through his skull. But she knew how much Morrowind loved its authority figures and lowered her head. "I apologize," she said, in the most neutral tone possible, before lifting her head back up to meet his gaze. "But you did put me in a spot."

Suddenly a bit shamefaced, Dimartani tugged at his collar. "Lli has NOT read your essay, nor will she care to. If you WANT to dilute the strength of your message, there's NOTHING either of us can do to stop you."

"Has anyone else read it?"

He nodded. "I gave it to Jolda a few minutes ago. She's the head of the festival planning committee, and you'll be working with HER on whatever speech you finally give."

Daria was aghast. "You handed it over to her?"

"NATURALLY! An assignment CEASES to be yours when you turn it in!"

She had to fix this. "Of course. May I be excused?" She tried to make it sound more like a statement than a question because, one way or another, she was leaving.

He waved her off, and she hurried out into the sun-blasted courtyard, searching desperately for Jolda.

Musical Closer - Cul de Sac, by Komeda

You really make us feel the pervasive heat in Balmora and it contributes to the whole mood here.

Uh oh, I was afraid of this. Daria has, as you said, outsmarted herself.

I quite like Jane’s approach – three paragraphs basically saying the empire is great. And offering Daria slacking lessons from Trent. I can imagine Trent's first lesson, “Look at it this way. If the minimum wasn’t good enough, it wouldn’t be the minimum.”

Dimartani isn’t wrong and his insight seems sound. . . but using Daria to make his point is problematic.

It’ll be interesting to see how this develops and unfolds.

Uh oh, Daria is ditching the obviously muckracking version, and instead substituting the more palatable one. She is sure to win now! It is going to be everything they want to hear much to Daria's shock and dismay. It is like the internet rule that no matter how blatantly satirical you write something to mock bigots, somebody will take it as literal and use it as hate-speech to support that bigotry.

As ever, I loved how you reproduced Mr. Dimartino's way of randomly overemphasizing certain words at random.

Oh boy, off to find Jolda before its too late!

I can write & listen to music just fine, or sometimes there will be something on TV. I wrote portions of one of Laprima's chapters while watching Level 16, a movie on Netflix which was about a bunch of girls locked in some compound. In that case, the movie actually inspired a bit of that particular chapter. Yeah, that was the one in which her Aunt Elisif crowds my character, trying to persuade her to get a job in Solitude immediately.

However, if I'm editing, it's best I just focus without any extra stimuli. 🧐 Glasses on, using my laptop instead of my room desktop, spellchecker running...

/ot

Daria has one of THOSE teachers. I think we've all had THAT teacher at some point, the one who gets way into their lessons and begins SHOUTING or pontificating in some way.
I always loved the hippie teacher on Beavis & Butthead btw, the one who always finishes his sentences with "mm kay?"



It's partially the volcano, messing up Vvardenfell's climate, but partially some other factor. Because Vvardenfell and Skyrim are at the same latitude. Before the volcano erupted, the place would've still been warm, I think. Maybe not as warm though.

Daria trying to think dumbly, but then opts to be as boring as possible. It makes me worried a little. Is she going to get in some sort of trouble? -- Yep, exactly what I was thinking. She went from too boring to too critical.



Ha ha, perfect! But Jane does it even better--she merely uses the same essay from last year!

... oh no, Daria won! 🙅 Well, look at the bright side. Maybe she won't need to worry as much about networking.

Chapter 3

Jane said that she'd seen Jolda heading off to Lli's office, so Daria cut toward the squat building where the director held court. Remembering procedure, she knocked on the rough wooden door and waited as the sun beat down on her hair. It soon swung inward to reveal a smiling Jolda, dressed in a flowing magenta dress that looked much more Hammerfell than Morrowind.

"Hi, Daria! I was just telling Muthsera Lli how impressed Sera Dimartani and I were with your essay."

She studied Jolda's face for any sign of sarcasm. Jolda was smart. She'd have figured out what Daria was saying. But she seemed genuine.

Director Lli sat behind an Imperial-style desk of imported pine, garbed in blue robes decorated with angular Daedric letters spelling out the names of House Hlaalu's favorite saints. A sweating Sera Benniet stood next to Lli, fanning her with an enormous corkbulb leaf. Lli looked at Daria, who lowered her head as a show of respect. Such a gesture was the closest most Hlaalu Dunmer ever got to a bow, and only used when they wanted to wheedle something out of someone. "Muthsera," Daria said.

She hated giving that honorific to Lli. But Jolda already had, so if Daria didn't, Lli would take serious offense.

"Good of you to join us, Miss Morgendorffer. I was about to have you summoned. Jolda seems very impressed with your work." Lli tented her fingers, her face impassive.

"Uh, thank you. However, I'd rather not read my essay at the Armistice Festival."

Lli's eyes narrowed. "What? Young lady, I've bestowed upon you a rare honor. This will be a chance for notable administrators and captains of industry to hear your voice raised in praise for the Empire, for Great House Hlaalu, and for the honor, and glory, of Drenlyn Academy. Who knows! There might be a handsome young Hlaalu noble in the audience who takes a liking to you!" Lli laughed at her own comment and followed it with a loud snort.

"Regrettably," Daria said, "I've already been betrothed to a dashing young Daedric Prince from one of the more reputable Planes of Oblivion."

Lli frowned. "Sarcasm won't get you anywhere, Miss Morgendorffer. Besides, you're exactly the kind of person I need: an educated Imperial girl from a respectable but non-noble family. It'll be a great way to show how open a place Drenlyn is for outlanders. Might even get some of those cheapskates to send a real donation for once!" She scowled before returning to her usual guarded expression.

"Wait," Daria said. "I thought I was picked because of my—"

Lli held up her hand. "Not now; I'm a very busy woman! Jolda's the head of the festival planning committee. She'll help you fine-tune your speech to make sure it's optimal for potential donors. Jolda?"

"Yes, muthsera?"

"Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't try anything funny. I've heard the instructors talking about her manners."

"Of course," Jolda said.

Jolda led Daria out of the office. Daria used her hand as a visor to shelter her eyes from the blinding light; the heat already prickling her skin. She pointed her feet toward the emperor parasol in the center of the courtyard, wanting only its shade, and Jolda walked with her.

"I read your essay, Daria. I get the impression that you didn't actually want to write this."

They reached the comfort of the shadows, and Daria let her arm drop. "I had a feeling you'd figure things out. I take it Lli hasn't seen my essay?"

Jolda shook her head. "Good job on the writing, by the way. It was accurate, and you hid your hostility pretty well. A lot better than you did in Lli's office."

"On that case, since we're on the same page—"

"Hold on. Lli wants the Armistice Festival to be perfect. I'm in charge from the student end, so if anything goes wrong, it'll fall on my head. Can you promise me you'll take this seriously?" Her expression turned searching.

Daria didn't want to get Jolda in trouble. "I guess. I'll stick with my mildly controversial script."

"Uh, about that—could we maybe make it a tiny bit less controversial? You weren't wrong, but I think this sort of thing needs to examine the positives, too."

"I'm not sure we need positives. I like harsh truths a lot more than comforting lies."

"Just..." Jolda sighed. "What if we talked about this at my house tomorrow?"

"I see. And will my opinion matter?"

"Daria, I wasn't lying when I said I liked your essay. You wrote the truth. But I've got a lot on the line for this. Please give me a chance?"

Daria mumbled an affirmative.

"Thanks. I'm sure we can work out something that we'll both be satisfied with. Do you know where I live?"

"No."

"My family lives on Silk-hawker's Street, first house on the left after the market if you're heading toward the stairs. Would a little while after noon be okay? I have to spend the morning making sure that the local merchants will be there for the festival."

"I guess."

"Thanks!" Jolda made a quick, ingratiating smile. "See you tomorrow," she said and walked away.

Daria thought for a bit, weighing her options and not coming up with any good answers.

*********

"That's wonderful, Daria! I'm so proud of you!" Mom exclaimed.

It was early evening at the Morgendorffer house. Mom was serving reheated bowls of saltrice porridge from the batch made a few days prior, along with lightly roasted hackle-lo leaf courtesy of Dad.

Dad grinned. "See? You just need some confidence, kiddo. People love your writing."

"Apparently they do," Daria said.

But do I? she wondered.

"And I'm thrilled to hear you're doing this with Jolda," Mom continued. "She's a promising young lady, and her father's supposed to be very well connected. You know, Daria, if you make a good impression on him tomorrow, he might be able to open some doors for you in the Imperial administration."

"Great. That way, I can start using complex bureaucracy to take out my resentment on a hapless citizenry. After I find a bolt hole for the inevitable riot." Daria prodded her porridge with her spoon, not feeling much of an appetite.

"If you want some help with giving a speech, I can totally teach you!" Quinn offered. "Just go on stage and think about how perfect you look and how everyone wants to date you or be you. Except, wait, you don't even look close to perfect." Quinn's expression turned thoughtful, then brightened up. "I know; think about how perfect I look!"

"The key to giving a speech is to never let those bastards see you sweat!" Dad said, pounding the table. "You lose them the moment they start snickering—"

"I'm too contemptuous of my audience to be afraid of them," Daria insisted. "It's just..."

Mom and Dad didn't have a clue about the contents of her essay or how she'd tried to lose. And that didn't get into the question as to why her essay had been picked. Lli's comment nagged. Was it her writing? Or had Lli told Dimartani to pick someone from the right demographic? The same demographic that more or less ruled a continent, cosmopolitan enough to make some effort to let others in but still reserving most of the best for its own.

"It's just what?" Mom asked before lifting her clay cup and drinking from the tea within.

She decided to test Mom's opinion. "I didn't expect to win this, and I don't like the idea of my speech being used in some joint Empire-Hlaalu propaganda session."

"Oh, it's not that bad, Daria. This is only harmless boosterism. And an opportunity."

Mom and Dad didn't always act like they took the Empire that seriously. But Daria suspected they did, and that evening bore out her suspicions. After dinner, they gathered in Mom's office at her behest and took turns reading from Dad's copy of The Apotheosis of Tiber Septim, the timeworn poetic hagiography of the emperor who'd annexed Morrowind.

Watching Quinn read the passage about Tiber Septim's reclamation of the Imperial City, Daria wondered how much room she had to tell the truth.

Musical Closer - 16 Military Wives, by The Decemberists

I loved Daria's comeback about the dashing young daedric prince. Not to many of those from reputable planes...

Donors? Ah ha! Miss Lli reverts to type! This is all about fund-raising. I bet Daria will be so thrilled with that.

As ever Jolda is always diplomatic and understanding. I understand why. It must be very frustrating for her, to have to always be perfect in order to live up to her parent's impossible standards. At least in Morrowind she does not have to also represent the perfect, safe, non-threatening, African-American youth in an otherwise all-white school.

As ever, Daria is prepared to become a heartless dictator, escape plan and all, if the opportunity ever presents itself.

And I love how Quinn manages to make the speech about her.

I’m with Daria here. I’d also rather be betrothed to a Daedric Prince than a ‘handsome young Hlaalu noble’. But her utterance to that effect did carry quite a bit of sting.

She won based her demographics, not the quality of her work?!? She should have just turned in a copy of Jane’s essay.

Jolda is either extremely smooth at manipulation or earnestly compelling in trying to recruit Daria’s support. I’m guessing the latter.

Loved Quinn’s advice on how to give a speech.

Lli sounds like a real s'wit. She could use a good whack from Sunder to the face.

I wonder if Drenlyn Academy nags for donations as much as higher education institutions do in the real world.

Ah, just like in real life, it isn't always so straightforward an answer as to how harsh the truth should be in a given situation. At the same time, I hope Daria isn't too snotty. I'm decidedly not a fan of people who think they're better than everybody or that they have all the answers in life.

Oh, come on, Tiber Septim was a great guy. Well, besides...a lot of things. Jokes aside, I think one of the many interesting juxtapositions of Elder Scrolls is Tiber Septim himself. On one hand, he was the first person to truly unify Tamriel into the most peaceful span of time it has ever had. On the other hand...well, where to begin with the atrocities? It's similar with many, many real-life historical figures. It's also amazing how much humans and elves hate each other even though they are both guilty of many of the things they accuse each other of...also much like how a lot of groups are in real life.

Hey Clavier, what is the difference between Sera and Muthsera? Is that a female/male thing?

Daria's trying to get out of giving her speech! ... And Lli isn't even bother to listen to Daria's concerns! ... But Jolda seems more compassionate. Even still, notice how Jolda is sort of congratulating Daria for writing her essay in such a passive-aggressive way (is that fair to say?) Meanwhile, Daria actually wrote three different essays. She only submitted the one because she assumed it would get her out of the contest.



Ha ha classic.

You know, maybe Quinn's got a point. Just go on stage and think about how perfect Quinn looks! Maybe that's the way to get through this. Because it sounds like Daria hasn't got a choice. Heck, maybe Quinn can try reading the essay instead of the more studious sister!

Chapter 4

Plenty of Balmora's upwardly mobile made their homes on Silk-hawker's Street, where garish pennants and drapes burst like fireworks amidst the city's brown adobe. Outlanders ran most of the shops and kiosks there, selling bolts of moth-silk to the servants of the rich Dunmer families whose grand manses looked down on the street from atop High Town to the north.

Daria walked past the finely dressed shoppers and smooth-tongued merchants on her way to Jolda's house. She found the place easily enough and knocked on the door. A smiling Bosmer housemaid opened it and let her in, telling her she was expected. Though the exterior looked much like the Morgendorffer home, the interior was a world apart. A savory smell livened up the air within the hall, making her think of a well-stocked spice cabinet. No dull forest scene tapestries hung on the walls; instead, the tapestries glowed in bold yellows and oranges, featuring images of dueling warriors and dancing townsfolk whose harsh geometric forms emphasized motion more than detail.

"Please take off your shoes, dear. House rules," the maid said. Daria knelt and unfastened her boots before taking them off.

"That's an old Redguard tradition," boomed a voice. "A lot of sand back in Hammerfell, and the last thing you want to do is track it into your home. Not so much sand here in Morrowind, but plenty of ash."

Daria stood up as Armand, Jolda's father, walked toward her. Lean and athletic, only the white flecks in his black hair suggested he'd reached middle age. He wore a gilded green and white frock coat, which Daria suspected would meet with Quinn's approval. Trying to think back to what little she knew of Redguard customs, Daria bowed deeply. Armand smiled and did the same, bowing slightly less to show his authority. The housemaid had already scurried back to the kitchen.

"I like that!" Armand exclaimed once he'd righted himself. "Not too many Imperials know any of our customs. Excellent work on that essay, by the way."

Daria blinked. "You read it?"

"No, I don't have time, but I've heard it's good, and I'll definitely be there to listen to you speak at the Armistice Festival. This here's a Forebear family, so we're friends of the Empire."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Anyway, I won't take up your time." Armand turned his head to look up the stairs. "Jolda! Your friend's here!"

"Hi, Daria!" came Jolda's voice. She hurried down to the landing. "Come on, we can meet in my dad's office upstairs."

"I'm on my way out. You girls be productive!" Armand said with a chortle as he slipped his shoes on.

"Thanks for making it here, Daria," Jolda said as she led Daria upstairs into the office. A sharp and piercing wail resounded in the hall, a few rooms down. "That's my baby brother, Eshraf. He can be pretty noisy," Jolda explained.

"At least he doesn't give you unwanted fashion advice," Daria said.

"Frankly, I'd deal with that as long as he did it at a lower volume."

Armand's office was a book-lined study with a few upholstered chairs. Running through the center was a long table on which rested an enormous and partially disassembled bronze insect, the spinning wheels and corroded pipes that served as its guts spilled out on the surface. Around it lay dozens of tiny prongs and crystal lenses, along with pages of sketches and notes.

"So, your dad really does have access to Dwemer artifacts," Daria said.

Jolda shrugged. "We don't advertise it, but it's not a secret. He's always been good with machines and did a lot of engineering work for the legion when he was younger."

Daria leaned in for a closer look at the four-legged animunculus, marveling at the complexity of its inner workings. Morrowind, especially Vvardenfell District, was chock full of ruined Dwemer cities. Only a handful of citizens possessed the charters that let them own or trade in Dwemer artifacts, though she'd heard the law wasn't strictly enforced. Regardless, Armand's engineering work must have been top-tier for the Empire to grant him that charter.

"Daria?"

"Sorry," she said, reluctantly turning her attention back to the matter at hand. Jolda motioned for her to sit down at a smaller desk beneath an open window. Her essay was already on it.

"Okay," Jolda said, wearing a smile that looked slightly forced. "Your essay's great when it comes to being informative. But the festival is a fundraiser designed to impress people, so we need to put a more positive spin—"

"Then you admit that what we're doing is propaganda?" It still bothered Daria. Jolda knew how ridiculous this was. Couldn't she at least admit it?

"I don't think there's any harm in it. No one's going to take the speech all that seriously."

"But doesn't it bother you that we're trying to put a 'positive spin' on this? Shouldn't history be presented as it happened?"

Jolda's smile faded. "If this were a scholarly symposium, I'd agree. This is just a fundraiser. Besides, some of the buildings in Drenlyn badly need new adobe. It'll help everyone if the school benefits from this."

"Yeah, it's a fundraiser that's themed off of a historical event. And you want me to continue the myth that the Empire conquered Morrowind for its own good and that everything's been hunky dory since," Daria countered.

She wanted to know exactly what Jolda thought. Why was she so comfortable with conceding?

"It's not just you, Daria. I'm involved in this too. And for all its problems, I don't think the Empire's rule is that bad."

"Sure," Daria granted. "It could be worse. But it could be a lot better. The problem is that the Empire keeps pretending that it's doing this for the good of the world. Except they haven't improved Morrowind. The great houses are still corrupt. Rich Dunmer still keep slaves, and the Empire benefits from that even if they pretend they don't approve. I can put up with thuggish expansionism, but hypocrisy is a lot harder to swallow." Daria's face turned hot, and her voice grew louder as she spoke.

Because why should she put up with it? She was an Imperial citizen, and she had a voice. Nothing she'd written contradicted the official histories. She'd simply emphasized the truths that they glided over.

Jolda leaned forward, her eyes angry. At least Daria had gotten a reaction.

"You know," Jolda said, "I wrote an essay, too. Believe it or not, it actually wasn't that different from yours, except I also talked about the good things the Empire is doing here, like bringing the rule of law that helps common Dunmer like your friend, Jane. I spent hours working on it, researching all the relevant books in my dad's library, writing multiple drafts—the whole deal! I did all this on a night when I also had to do accounting for the Mages Guild because my parents still make me volunteer there."

"I get that you're busy—"

"I'm not done yet! You know why I worked so hard? Because I wanted to get the chance to speak at the festival. I knew it was going to be a ridiculous propaganda outlet, but I figured it'd be a chance to talk a bit about the problems in Morrowind while also giving people hope for a solution. I wanted to be seen so I could get more opportunities to make the Empire a better place.

"But instead, it goes to you! Someone who deliberately tried to fail by writing some snarky takedown. Because I don't think you care about history or making the world better; all you want is to look down on everyone. We're both good writers, Daria. We both did research. But why do you think you won? Lli gave you a hint."

Daria didn't back down. "Because Lli wanted an Imperial to read it," she said.

"Exactly. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of used to that. The Empire's for you Imperials before it's for anyone else." Jolda threw her arms wide for emphasis. "But hey, having a rich Imperial girl give the speech is a great way for the school to get sponsors because that'll impress even richer Imperials! They wouldn't listen to some Ra Gada girl like me. Most of you can't even pronounce Ra Gada!"

Her arms fell to her sides, but her eyes still boiled. "It's not fair. But I'm willing to put up with some nonsense if it'll get this project going since my reputation as committee head, as well as school funding, both depend on it. The only problem is that you're making things difficult."

Daria stood up, her face burning. Yes, it was unfair. But how would it ever get better if Jolda went along with it?

"Say what you like. Facts are facts, and I've never been good at lying. Go ahead and write your own speech. I won't tell anyone."

Heart pounding, she stormed from the room, down the stairs, and to the door. Not wanting to give Jolda time to catch up, she put her feet into her boots without lacing them and stepped out into the seething afternoon.

*********

Daria busied herself with chores for the rest of the day: dusting tapestries, clearing the rubbish bin, and buying wood for the stove. She tried not to think about her exchange with Jolda. So, naturally, she obsessed over it.

Jolda had a point. Not about giving some feel-good message, but about Lli favoring Daria simply for her heritage. That fact undercut Daria's entire message about being honest. She'd only won the contest because it was likely bent in her favor. Though Dimartani had sounded impressed with what she'd written. Had he been pretending? Daria wasn't sure why he'd bother.

It took Daria a long time to get to sleep that night. The next thing she knew, she stood in a great marble hall so vast that its edges were lost in shadow. Her footsteps echoed in the enormous space as she walked through an endless forest of pale columns that supported a ceiling so high that the stars twinkled below it.

Tiber Septim, known to some as Talos Stormborn, founder of the Third Empire, waited for her at the other end.

Though a man, emperor, and god in one body, he didn't look too out-of-the-ordinary: short but powerfully built, with a well-trimmed black beard, wearing a slightly dented gold crown, and dressed in practical leather clothes. He sat at a desk that stretched miles in both directions, supporting towers and mountains of paperwork. Somehow, he tended to all of these forms while seated in one place.

Daria cleared her throat.

"Ah, Citizen Daria Morgendorffer," he said, not looking up from the missive he was reading. He spoke with an odd accent that sounded almost Nordic, but not quite. "Charged with sedition, treason, and blasphemy. Oh, and since we're here, forgery. I know what you did at the Mages Guild."

Daria nodded. "I'll cop to the forgery, your imperial majesty. But I don't see how telling the truth about the Empire's history is seditious or treasonous. As for blasphemy, I'm not convinced you're really a god, so I don't think that should apply to me."

Tiber Septim looked up with a faint smile on his face. "Well, I suppose we can let the priests quibble about the last bit. I never saw myself as a god while alive, certainly, but everyone insisted I was one after I died. None of us has as much control over our narratives as we'd like, I'm afraid. Which, I suppose, is part of why you're here. Do you understand why we try to, shall we say, downplay the uglier aspects of my reign?"

"To protect the powers that be from embarrassment."

"Yes, that's part of it," he said, nodding. "But also to keep the Empire together. People are more easily unified around a government if they believe it to be for their benefit. And the Empire has done good things: our roads are safe and well-kept, our granaries full. People may worship and associate as they please. The law doesn't protect evenly, but it's a good sight fairer than the laws that came before. Isn't all that worth a few lies?"

Daria thought about it for a bit. "I think you're making a false dichotomy. Those things won't disappear just because the view of a historical event undergoes some revision."

The emperor made a so-so gesture with his right hand, which was somehow signing a scroll at the same time. "The Empire's more fragile than you think, Citizen Daria. Scholars typically know the truth, but the uneducated rely on these founding myths to feel some sense of connection with their fellows. Look at them—all these people from mutually hostile kingdoms and tribes, itching for a chance to tear their neighbors apart. The Empire stops them from doing that. But we can only do that if people believe in our strength and righteousness."

"I'd say that if you're worried about the uneducated making bad decisions, the smart thing to do would be to increase funding for education so that everyone gets it instead of only the privileged few."

The emperor stroked his beard. "Hmm, that is an interesting point." Then he looked right at her. "However, it's easier to simply silence troublesome voices. But I like you, Citizen Daria, so you can choose how you'll be executed: fast-acting poison or decapitation?"

Daria mulled it over. "Hmm, well, if I'm decapitated, could you arrange it so that my head's put on top of my sister's dresser? It'd mean a lot to me if I could posthumously disrupt her beauty routine."

"Of course," Tiber Septim said with a fatherly smile. "Guards, take her away! Be sure to place her head on Jane's dresser."

"Wait! On my sister's, not on Jane's!"

Mailed hands grabbed Daria's arms, and she awoke in her bed. It was still dark, and she took a deep breath.

"Thanks for nothing, Tiber Septim," she muttered.

Musical Closer - Bigmouth Strikes Again, by The Smiths

Hey, I live in the desert and take off my shoes coming into the house also.

A fascinating and tense exchange between Daria and Jolda. It was good to see some of Jolda’s actual feelings come out. Jolda is smart, compassionate and possesses a good sense of what is practical. Though Daria is not necessarily wrong, she seems too stubborn to work with or compromise with some of Jolda’s rather reasonable ideas. I see what you mean when you describe her imperfections.

The dream sequence was a hoot, and I love how you finished it on a funny note. Even in dreamdeath it seems Daria can’t win. Quinn’s beauty routine shall remain undisturbed.

I feel sorry for Jolda already, and I have not even read this episode yet. As much as I love Daria, dealing with her can be difficult for anyone, even when you have the best of intentions. When you have a walk a tightrope with your own life and career already, and throw Daria into the mix on top of that, well, it is quite a challenge.

I live in the Midwest and take off my shoes as soon as I walk in my house. I don't want to track dirt all over the place. When I was a children back in the 70s, we thought of taking off your shoes was an exotic "Japanese Thing". but my family still did it back then too. It is just easier to keep the house clean. Plus it is just more comfortable.

I liked the description of a bit of Hammerfell home style in Morrowind.

They have a Dwemer spider bot! Cool. Viuda would love one of those. Maybe she'll make one?

I have noticed that just about every province is filled with Dwemer ruins. Hammerfell, Morrowind, Skyrim, etc... It seems that Cyrodiil is the only place without them. But they have the Ayleid ruins instead. There seems to be a law that every province have the ruins of a long dead elven race. So they either have to keep reusing the Dwemer, or they have to invent a new dead elf race with every game.

You tell her Jolda! I always did like her.

I love her dream about Tiber/Talos/Hjalti Earlybeard! (could that guy have any more names?)

Cool, thanks for explaining about sera and muthsera.

I like that... "No dull forest-scene tapestries hung upon the wall..." It can be true that as we're kids, some of our friends' houses seem better than ours.

Bowing is important, not just in Asian culture, but here in Tamriel too, apparently there's a right way and a wrong way to do it, eh?

Wow, Armand thinks her essay is 'excellent'. Meanwhile, it seems nobody knows (or seems to know) she's got these ulterior motives for writing it, and in fact tried to get herself NOT accepted. ... Well Jolda seems to know what's going on.

See, I feel kind of bad for Daria here. Because she's not wanting to be put on the spot like this at all! I wonder where all of this is heading.

Damn, Jolda's pretty pissed. Yeah I agree with Daria. Jolda should be giving her own speech instead of Daria. Seems like she's quite passionate about it. Certainly put enough effort into it. Who cares about her race? Hmm... well maybe the Imperials do. Still...

Whoa, she's meeting Talos. What a trippy scene.





I love The Smiths!

Chapter 5

Daria's doubt deepened as the hot Sundas morning cooked the streets and rooftops. She considered going back to Jolda's house to apologize, but it still didn't seem right to regurgitate the old myths.

"So, which is it?" Daria asked herself. "Stick to your principles—which are based more on intellectual conceit than any real concern for your peers—and in so doing hurt the career aspirations of someone who does care and who has only been friendly to you? Or take a stand for truth that won't do anything more than assuage your ego?"

"Mom!" Quinn shouted from her desk. "Daria's talking to herself again!"

She got out of the house to clear her head, heat be damned, and walked through the dusty markets under the dubious protection of her bug-shell hat. Her feet took her to the Foreigner's Span, the southernmost bridge in Balmora, before she realized she was making her way to Jane's apartment. Why not? she figured. Jane might be able to provide some perspective.

She reached the narrow streets of Labor Town, its shabby markets redolent with guar dung and fresh-spilled beetle ichor. Passing by a crude street-side shrine to St. Olms, the clay figure within bedecked with faded blue anther petals, she caught sight of Dimartani standing in line at a kwama seller's stand. Maybe he could clear a few things up. Daria walked up to him, and he gave a start when he saw her.

"DARIA! I wasn't expecting you to be in this part of town!"

"I'm full of surprises." She raised her face to look him right in the eye. "Earlier, you said you admired my essay for its honesty."

"I did."

"Great. In that case, I can trust you to be honest with me."

Dimartani glared. "As a STUDENT, you ought to show more—"

She didn't let him finish. "Did you pick me because Director Lli told you she wanted an Imperial to win the contest?"

His mouth froze mid-retort, and then his teeth clenched. His eyes roved nervously around for a bit before they settled on Daria. "Director Lli did insist upon an Imperial winner, yes. However, I could have chosen ANY of the Imperials in that classroom. My FIRST plan was to simply draw a name at random! But when I saw your veiled EVISCERATION of the Armistice, I was impressed in a way that I rarely am."

"I see. Thank you for telling me. But it still sounds like you want me to do your dirty work for you."

"They might LISTEN to you! You're Imperial. I'm Dunmer."

Another reminder of how lucky she was. But Daria couldn't forget how Synda's thugs had beaten her in an alley for the crime of not being Dunmer. That made it harder to be charitable to him.

"And what do you think of outlanders? Should we be driven out of Morrowind by swordpoint? Because I've had some bad experiences with people like that."

Dimartani shook his head. "I have NO fondness for those thugs! The Empire has been here since my GRANDFATHER'S day, and I accept that they're here to stay. But I'm tired of all the lies. I used to be a professional historian. The truth MATTERS to me! But NO ONE here seems to care!"

"I see. Where did you work as a historian?" And are they hiring? Daria thought but didn't ask.

He looked down at the ground, his mouth set in a grim line. "I once worked as the family historian for a lord in Great House REDORAN. I served him as a SOLDIER before that."

"Huh. How did you end up working for the Hlaalu?"

His shoulders bunched up. "Well, erm... gambling is a HELLUVA vice, Daria! Don't ever let it get its claws into you! And if you do, NEVER bet against anyone related to Director Lli!"

He made a mournful noise and started crying into his hands. Not sure what else to do, Daria let him be and resumed her journey to Jane's.

Luckily, Jane was home that day. She sat under a tarp that stretched to the balcony of a neighboring apartment while she added a few final touches to a painting of a matronly blonde in rich Imperial garb.

"Who are you flattering today?" Daria asked.

"Karl's mom. Nice lady, believe it or not. Guess he gets all the creepiness from his dad. Luckily, neither of them was there when I went over to immortalize her on canvas. So what brings you here to my humble abode?"

"Remember the essay contest?"

"Oh yeah, the one you blundered your way into winning?"

"More like I blundered my way into an episode of uncomfortable introspection that forces me to realize some things about myself that I'd prefer not to think about."

"Do tell."

And Daria did, while Jane layered brush strokes to add depth to her portrait. The situation seemed to grow clearer in the retelling.

"Sounds to me like you already know what to do," Jane said.

"I do. It's not fair for me to put Jolda on the line for the sake of my ego, so I'll apologize and follow her lead. That part doesn't bother me. What I hate is having to water down my statement even further. The Empire's been in Morrowind for a little over 400 years, and I'm not sure the place has gotten much better during that time."

"It's not like the great houses were running things that well on their own, either. I still think the Tribunal wanted the Empire here to humble us Dunmer a bit."

"I wish we could all take honest looks at how we got into this mess and start taking steps to fix it."

Jane looked over her shoulder at Daria. "It'll take a lot more than a school fundraising speech to do that."

"Maybe I was inflating the importance of my speech a little bit."

"Well, I'll always be here to deflate you!" Jane said. She gave a brief smirk and turned back to her painting.

"Good to know I can count on friends to cut me back down to size."

Daria already knew that Jane didn't mind the Empire. From her position, one ruling body wasn't that different from another. Kings and houses never cared about struggling artisans like her.

"I've talked to a bunch of people these past few days," Daria said. "You, Jolda, Lli, Dimartani, my parents. They all have their own versions of what happened. I guess real history is the sum total of all those different opinions; bumping up against each other, taking stands or making compromises. It's much too complicated and contradictory for anyone to put into one book or story."

"Sorry, not quite sure what you're getting at," Jane said, sounding a bit distracted as she dabbed her paintbrush into the palette she cradled on her arm.

"I think I have an idea of what to write for this."

*********

Daria returned to Jolda's house as the sun set behind Balmora's shops and houses, crowning the roofs with the day's last embers. Jolda sat on a crate outside her home, holding her baby brother Eshraf and gently rocking him back and forth. She saw Daria coming but said nothing.

"Uh, hi," Daria said.

"Hi." Jolda's gaze stayed on her sibling.

Daria took a deep breath. "It occurs to me that I may not have made a genuine effort to see things from your point of view. And that, from some perspectives, my actions could be seen as pretty selfish and ignorant. So I apologize for earlier, and I won't contradict you any further on this project."

Daria knew she always lapsed into some awkward facsimile of her mother's lawyer-speak when she got embarrassed about something and hoped the weird formality didn't come off as insincere.

"Thanks, Daria," Jolda said, finally looking up. "If it makes you feel better, I can understand why you wanted to write your essay the way you did."

"That was me holding back. You should have seen the first draft."

Jolda grinned. "That doesn't surprise me. I'm going to be busy getting the school grounds ready for the Armistice Festival tomorrow, but I can make a bit of time before classes open up. Meet me in the library?"

"Actually, I spent some time this afternoon writing a new speech. It's only a page long and incorporates a lot of the things I've learned these past few days. I have it with me if you want to read."

Jolda looked a bit doubtful.

"If it's not to your liking, I promise that we'll use a version of my earlier essay, with you having full editorial control."

Jolda relaxed at that. "Okay. Let's go inside. It's too dark to read out here."

Daria followed Jolda back into the house. The smell of roasting chicken, slathered in spices and herbs she could only guess at, wafted down the hallway. Her mouth watered at the scent. She hadn't eaten chicken for months. As much as she'd come to enjoy Morrowind's bug-based cuisine, she still missed some of the old standards.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner, by the way," Jolda offered.

Part of Daria wanted to. If it had just been Jolda, she'd have said yes. But the idea of trying to make small talk with Armand and his wife was a little more than she could handle right then. Then again, it might look rude to refuse.

"Uh, thanks. I guess I can run back and ask my parents if it's okay. They hadn't started cooking anything when I left, so it should be."

Even if they had, Mom would gladly let Daria go for the sake of a networking opportunity.

"Here's the new essay."

Daria handed the document to Jolda, who held it up to the light of a paper lantern hanging from the ceiling while cradling Eshraf with her free arm. She squinted a bit as she read in the dim hallway. Daria waited in silence, not sure whether the worse torment came from waiting for Jolda's reaction or having to endure the heavenly aroma from the kitchen.

Then Jolda smiled. "This is really good, Daria."

Musical Closer - Turtleneck Coverup, by Ozma

I loved the juxtaposition between Daria's honest soul-searching, and Quinn's exclamation!

It was great learning more about Mr. Dimartani. You have done a great job of turning his TV show history into something that fits into Morrowind. I especially liked how you worked his gambling addiction into it.

I definitely appreciated Daria's painfully come to insight about how history is a conglomeration of wildly varying people's experiences.

And Daria does the right thing in the end. Yay! As Winston Churchill once said: "Americans always do the right thing, after they've tried everything else..."

I was impressed with the insight of Daria’s self-doubts. She does ‘get’ it, just needs to decide which course of action to pick. And seeking Jane’s counsel seems a good idea.

Dimartani provides some degree of clarity by confirming the ‘pick an Imperial’ requirement while also confirming he truly did appreciate the brilliance of Daria’s ‘veiled evisceration of the Armistice’.

And Jane does not disappoint as she listens, then simply points out the decision that Daria’s words portend. And I’m glad to see that her decision appears to be the more empathic one.

Daria’s apology to Jolda was indeed a touch lawyerly but was sincere and I’m pleased Jolda accepted it graciously. I hope you will reveal more detail on the nature of Daria’s revised essay but it is enough to know that Jolda seems to think it hits the mark.

And voila! Daria is networking!

What's your favorite Smiths song? Off the top of my head, I'm remembering Sheila Take a Bow, although I think that song has another name. They had a ton of great songs though.

Daria's talking to herself *again*! Damn, that is cute!

Ah. So the fact that she's Imperial. See, I think I had this sort of wrong. I was thinking they want Daria (or any Imperial) because they want somebody who will praise the Empire. But the fact they've chosen Daria, and especially the teacher seems to know her essay isn't all rosey....

I think I get it now. This is complicated!

Well, wonder what the new essay is like, then. Jolda seems happy about it.

Chapter 6

Daria re-read her speech one last time as she stood in the dusty pavilion set up behind the temporary stage where some legion musicians played a classic triumphal march. Part of her had hoped Mystik Spiral would perform that day, but she couldn't blame Jolda for going with the safe option.

The day was hot but milder than the scorchers of the previous week. A decent-sized crowd had come to Drenlyn. No one that important, so far as she could tell. Just the usual crowd of outlander parents, with more than a few Dunmer, all seated beneath a canvas that shaded them from the sun. Around them stood kiosks set up by artisans to sell their wares, including one for Jane, who sat with some of her paintings on display. Not the worst cross-section of the Empire in Morrowind, she supposed.

She spotted Jolda sitting next to Maiko. Jolda noticed Daria and waved. Daria returned the gesture.

The familiar march wound down down. Daria straightened the stiff blue robe she'd donned for the occasion. It was the same one she'd worn to the Talori party almost half a year ago.

"I trust everything's ready, Miss Morgendorffer?" Lli asked. She'd been roaming the festival grounds all day while wearing a loud yellow robe that rivaled the sun for brightness. Wherever she walked, an exhausted Sera Benniet followed close behind, holding a parasol over her boss's head.

"Yup."

"Remember: You and Jolda will both be in trouble if you try any funny business. Be cheerful, optimistic, and do everything you can to reflect the honor, and glory, of Drenlyn Academy! We're depending on your words here, and frankly, you owe us!"

The musicians finished and marched off the stage single-file, their footsteps sounding out in unison. Not waiting for permission from Lli, Daria walked up the steps and into the eyes of the crowd. Mom and Dad sat in the middle of the audience, smiling expectantly. Daria glanced from side to side and then straightened her gaze so that she looked at the audience as a whole and at no one person in particular.

"We're here today to honor the armistice that brought Morrowind into the Empire some 425 years ago. Except we aren't, not really. We're here to be seen, to rub elbows with clients, or maybe just kill some time. To a lot of us, the armistice is something that happened a long time ago and doesn't seem to warrant much thought today."

She watched for reactions. A few people had stirred when she talked about the more pragmatic reasons for attendance.

"Maybe that's because no one knows for sure what happened on that day. We have the broad strokes: we know that Morrowind stopped fighting the Empire and agreed to join our family of nations. Frankly, if the day of the signing was anything like today, it was probably too damn hot to fight."

That remark got some mild laughter. A good sign.

"But it's harder to know exactly why the Empire annexed Morrowind. Some historians say that the Empire only wanted to spread peace and the rule of law. But others think the Empire's reasons were more brutally pragmatic: that it needed to secure the east in order to take on the west. I'm not a professional historian, so I'm not going to venture a guess. But here's what I do know."

No one seemed upset so far. Some were curious. A fair number still looked bored or hot and tired. All to be expected from this sort of crowd.

"The armistice is not history. It's still going on today—what Tiber Septim and the Tribunal started was an experiment. Was it a success? Well, like it or not, that hasn't been decided yet. The Empire's ruled Morrowind for a little over four centuries, and that's a blip, historically speaking.

"The good part—or bad part, depending on your point of view—is that we get to decide if it's a success. Each and every one of us, no matter where we're from or what we look like. Because nothing we do happens in a vacuum. The words we say and the actions we take affect not only ourselves but our families, friends, enemies, rivals, and people we don't know or care about.

"So, if you're a loyal citizen of the Empire, with a vested personal—or even just business—interest in Morrowind, you have to ask yourself what you're going to do to make sure this works. A lot of this has to do with fulfilling the Empire's declared mission of loving justice, working diligently, and giving donations to worthy causes."

She made a quick gesture to the buildings of Drenlyn Academy.

"Sometimes it might not be obvious. Sometimes it could be as simple as listening to someone different from you and trying to see things from their perspective, because guess what? They're a part of this, too.

"So, is the armistice worth honoring? Well, let's find out."

Daria briefly bowed her head. "Thank you," she finished.

The crowd offered modest applause, except for Dad who whooped and hollered. Daria didn't linger on the stage and made a quick exit as a line of actors hurried up in costume to conduct a symbolic play representing the armistice. Director Lli waited behind the stage, still shaded by a hapless Benniet, who looked ready to collapse from the heat.

"Interesting choice of speech, Miss Morgendorffer. Not quite what I expected and a bit short, but I like the way you exploited Imperial civic-mindedness. Kudos!"

"I'm perversely reassured that you saw my heartfelt speech as nothing more than another sales pitch," Daria said, but Lli had already hurried off to talk to a wealthy-looking Breton visitor.

Jolda still sat with Maiko. The legionnaire clapped as Daria approached.

"That was a good speech, Daria!" he said.

"Yeah, you did a great job!" Jolda concurred.

"Sorry again for not listening earlier."

"I'm still upset at how unfair the setup was," Jolda said, her brow momentarily furrowing in frustration, "but you listened to me when it counted, and I appreciate that. So I'm not upset at you. Did you talk to Lli at all?"

"Lli seemed pretty happy with our little speech. And the audience didn't mind, either," Daria said.

"Your speech, Daria," Jolda corrected. "You're the one who wrote it."

"True, but you edited it. Plus, I'd have never gotten the idea if it hadn't been for you, so it's a joint effort as far as I'm concerned."

Jolda smiled at that. "Well, I'm happy to accept co-author status in that case. Oh, hey, your parents are coming."

Daria looked behind her to see her parents walking up with Quinn. Dad barely seemed able to contain himself.

"That was some out-of-this-world oratory, kiddo! My daughter the public speaker! Who'd have thought?" he proclaimed.

Daria stepped to the side and shook her head. "Great. I've spent my entire life trying to persuade them that I hated the public, and now it's all been undone. I'll have to seclude myself for months to make up for it."

Jolda laughed. "Well, for what it's worth, you made a pretty good impression on my dad at dinner last night."

"All these important people liking me will really hurt my reputation for principled solitude."

"Hate to break it to you, Daria, but you might be more social than you think."

"Just promise me you won't tell anyone," Daria said. Wishing Jolda a good day, she walked out to meet her family.

Musical Closer - No Excuses, by Alice in Chains

The End

Well done to Daria! She and Jolda were trying balance quite a few things, from truthfulness to not pissing anyone off to soliciting donations – all in one fairly short and nicely delivered speech.

It was nice that Jane attended and I’m also pleased to see what seems to be a genuine friendship growing between Daria and Jolda. And the enthusiastic praise from her dad was heartening.

Much to Daria’s chagrin, she is moving up the networking ladder.