Prologue

The start of a new journal. 

The last, filled with half mad ramblings, I have left behind.  Years in prison would have filled me with madness, no doubt, had I not had my journals to drain it away.  If I had never known Arvil Bren would I have known that, or would the years of imprisonment have left me raving?  Am I really sure that they have not?

Seeing the last light of day refracted through the Amulet of Kings, which dangles from an arrow wedged into a poorly mortored crevice, I must stop to question my sanity.
<->

The first light of this extraordinary day could not find me at all.  Locked in the gloom of the Imperial dungeons I was beyond its reach.  So this day started like a thousand other days;  with a pallet of loose straw stinking beneath me.  Whether the stench was worth the cushioning against the hard stone is a question that I answered early.  My aging bones required it.

I had given the new cell only a cursory examination since I was transferred into it so late.  There seemed nothing remarkable.  Dangling chains, the skull of a former inmate picked clean by rats, a pitcher of water to be conserved since there was no way to know when, or if, it would be refilled; I have been transferred from one cell to another many times and never had reason to be excited.  Even though I had heard vague stories of that cell I would never have thought that I could be in it.  I tried not to think of those times long ago.  Times when stories of the emperor's secret route out of the city seemed marvelous secrets held by the holiest of orders.

When the voices approaching woke me I had no reason to believe they would change anything.  Guards come and go.  Then I recognized that unmistakable voice.  The emperor of Tamriel, Uriel Septim, in the Imperial dungeons?  Then he was at the door of my cell, and stopped.

I had little interaction with those Blades who serve in the emperor's guard.  The divisions among us are deep.  Those who serve as spies do not share in the shining Akaviri armor and the respect of the citizens.  I toiled all my years in secret.  Had I basked in the glory of the emperor's guard instead perhaps they would have known me despite the filthy attire of a prisoner.  Perhaps instead of thinking that he knew me from his dreams the emperor would just have recognized me outright from the day I took my oath; so long ago.  But I chose to be a spy, not just a guard.  From the day of my oath to this I never saw Uriel Septim face to face again.
<->

I will credit Arvil Bren for the idea of writing to stay sane in prison.  I will also credit him for the idea that writing helps to clear the mind and focus on a problem at hand.  However, sitting here to clear my head, by writing or otherwise is foolhardy in the extreme.

The arrow from which the amulet hangs is wedged between the stones which I am leaning against, stones framing an outlet from the city sewers.  Only a trickle emerges through the grated opening.  The gate through which I emerged is shut. 

The vista spread before me; the blue of the sky reflected and deepened by the placid waters of Lake Rumare; ancient Ayleid ruins of white stone rising on the far shore; the green of the trees and the flitting colors of birds and butterflies; it charms my prison darkened eyes.  But the assassins who have slain the Emperor knew too much about the secret escape route.  No doubt they knew it connected to the sewers, and they likely know that this would be the closest exit.  They will come here.

The amulet slides into my pouch.  The arrow returns to the quiver that I found among the detritus of the tunnels.  I must move on.  Clear head or not, I cannot linger here longer.
<->

Sunset.  Glorious in reds and purples.  The gold and orange have faded, but my eyes drank their fill.  There were times I gave up hope of ever seeing another.  The next one seems far away, so I again turn to this journal; writing by the dying light in hopes that pen on paper will show me a plan.

I have made a solid first move.  Waiting at the exit from the sewers was a boat.  I do not know if that boat was placed there by the Blades and intended to spirit the emperor away, or if the assassins placed it to hasten their escape.  In either event the red robed killers were aware of it, and when they emerged from the sewers and saw it beached across the lake they cast spells and strode across the rippling surface after it.  Where they think I went from there I cannot guess.

After I beached the boat I swam back here, to the cache of ragged goods that I gathered on my flight from the prison.  A bow, which served me well in getting past the goblins I encountered in the sewer, though my skills are rustier than its iron limbs.  Ragged armor of leather, ill fitting and stiff with the old blood of its previous owner, who I found as bones.  Odds and ends from a goblin I caught working at the very basic alchemy of his kind.  I have forgotten more than he would ever have learned.

That is the core of my problem.  Years in the dungeons have sapped my skills and softened my muscles.  I dare not show a light, but I doubt that I can survive if wild things find me huddled here in the darkness.  Even the isle of the imperial capitol is not too tame for a passing wolf to sniff out the easy meal I would present.  And the wilderness between here and Chorrol would be far deadlier.
If I go to Chorrol.  Does the dying wish of the emperor bind me to do so?  The Amulet of Kings in my pouch weighs heavily.  Mehrunes Dagon, daedric prince of darkness; the emperor believed that the assassin are his minions, and I see no reason to doubt.  I have no love for the emperor.  He had forgotten my oath long before he breathed his last, and years of imprisonment give me no reason to remember it.  Plus, at Chorrol waits the Grandmaster of Blades, Jauffre.  He would have the gall, no doubt, to remind me of my oath.If for no other reason than to keep me from killing him.

I would rather just go home to Kvatch, but that road is even longer.  And even if I abandon my past, could I turn my back on Tamriel?  The words of the emperor; "Close shut the jaws of Oblivion," ring in my ears.  Is my entire world in danger?  The Amulet, the fires in the Temple of the One, the Imperial bloodline of Talos.  If I turn my back and just throw the amulet into the lake would that release the forces of Oblivion and leave me with my freedom in a world of ash?
<->

A bright moon hangs overhead.  Enough light to see the pen and book, though my path is still shrouded in darkness.  That is no matter.  Whether my destination is Chorrol or Kvatch I cannot just set off on the journey like a stroll through a park.  The rags I wear, and even more the irons still bound around my wrists, would have me in the clutches of the watch before I covered a mile, even if the wild things didn't devour me.  The boat led pursuers off the isle, falsely.  In the morning I must harness the resources of the city.  I need to be strengthened for the journey, disguised and equipped.  I have been long away, but I have existed in the shadowy world of contacts and favors through most of my life.  That is where I must return.