On His Mane’s Secret Service
Chapter 1

She stood flanked by two quite sturdy Altmer as they stood upon the open platform that began to rise on the power of Altmer magic. The wind stirred her hair as she looked up at the impossibly tall building.

Magic. Only the Altmer retained enough magic to construct this building. Though it’s foundations were as solid as any other building, she could not imagine how it had ever been erected without the slowly-dwindling resource that now few but the Mer could summon. She lost count of the number of floors she had risen when the platform finally slowed. She felt a momentary panic as her weight suddenly dropped and an unreasonable feeling that the wind might sweep her off the platform to the ground below overcame her.

When it stopped, one of the guards opened the door and she followed him in, the other guard right behind her. After the door was closed behind her, she involuntarily fell to her knees. She was going to be sick and nothing she could do would stop it. A hand came into view - one of the guards held a bag and she retched into it unceremoniously.

“Sorry,” she said after she’d voided her stomach, and the guard produced a cup of water and a towel for her. So much for dignity. She took his hand after she’d cleaned herself up, sheathing her claws that had extended involuntarily as the other guard disposed of the bag,. The guards had been through this before obviously.

She stood and looked back at the glass door. The platform was gone and she realized that she was completely helpless here in the stronghold of her enemy. She could not possibly get back down without their help.

“Ra’Jirra,” said a smooth voice in Ta’agra. She saw it came from a thin Altmer who had appeared without a sound.

“Please come in. Sorry about the nausea. It is natural, there’s no need for shame. You get used to it eventually. How was your trip?”

“Thank you,” Ra’Jirra said, following him into a large office, where she took the seat he offered her. “The trip was uneventful, though I think the blindfold was a bit much. It’s not like this building is hard to spot.”

“Ah. Old traditions die hard. You are our enemy, after all.”

Ra’Jirra looked at the Mer, her eyes narrowing. “I am.”

“That is unfortunate. And unwise. But facts are facts. Still, you must be aware that if we wanted to kill you, the opportunities have been… legion. I am a little surprised that our request for you personally to attend was honored, frankly.”

Ra’Jirra was impressed. This Altmer’s Ta’agra was flawless.

“To whom do I address?” she asked, though the question was moot. Still, even among enemies, the protocols must be obeyed.

“I am #1 of the Aldmeri Dominion. That is the appellation I prefer you use. But you surprise me, Ra’Jirra. I did not expect you would have diplomatic tact. Have you been trained in diplomacy too?”

“I’ve picked up some of the niceties,” she replied. “Shall we get down to business?”

“With pleasure,” he said. “Before his untimely demise, I believe you met with a mutual acquaintance - #4, did you not?”

“I did. I didn’t expect a fortune-teller though.”

“Ah. So he showed you the future, did he?”

“He showed me something.”

“And have you informed your superiors of that?”

“I did not. Pictures on a wall. What of them? They could be anything. Anything at all. No one knows the future. Not even you Aldmeri with all of your magic.”

#1 nodded, folding his hands as if in prayer in front of her. “Indeed, we cannot. The future isn’t written. But what we can do isn’t far from it. Tell me, do you have weather forecasters in Torval?”

“Of course, though I wouldn’t call them forecasters. They take the weather reports from Hammerfell and predict how long the same weather will take to arrive in Elsweyr. It’s not hard.”

“And are they accurate?”

“Usually. Not always.”

“Yes. They too cannot predict the future accurately. But they can be right more than they are wrong. That is what we can do. We can predict many things. There is a storm coming, Ra’Jirra. A storm that, if not thwarted, will destroy the Mer, the Khajiiti, and even the Argonians with their precious Hist. That storm exists, and it is coming, Ra’Jirra. To reach the outcome you were shown will take thousands of years, it is true. But it is a big storm. We play the long game here, you see. Yet single-handedly your efforts against us have cost us much.”

Ra’Jirra smiled and sat back in her chair.

“Are you proud of that, khajiit? Are you PROUD that you have prevented our every attempt to preserve your own race as well our own?”

“I am proud that I have accomplished my various missions. I don’t see your acts in Tamriel as benefitting anyone but yourselves frankly. You continuously have striven to cause division between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil. What I have done, as I see it, is to prevent war between the humans on a massive scale, saving untold thousands of lives.”

“Undoubtedly you have done so, but if you saw it as we do, you would realize that those thousands of lives you saved will someday cost tens of thousands of lives. MILLIONS! OF KHAJIIT LIVES!”

The Altmer stood from behind his desk, his outburst causing visible flushing of his face.

“So you say,” Ra’Jirra said calmly.

#1 shook himself. He looked at her, then sat back down.

“I have lost my composure. That is inexcusable, but please do believe me when I tell you I regret that. That is not our way. It was the downfall of my predecessor, and I do learn from others’ mistakes. I will not repeat it again.”

“Thank you, Number One,” Ra’Jirra said sincerely. “I am aware that my life is in your hands. I do hope those hands are steady.”

“You came to Alinor willingly. You followed all our requirements. I would not disrespect that trust. But we have reached an impasse, you and I. It boils down to belief. I believe in our prediction, Ra’Jirra. I believe in it with all my heart. You do not. Of course, you cannot comprehend the magics involved in our discovery of it. You and your kind simply don’t have the resources any longer to comprehend magic the way we do. I do not blame you for that. Even some of our fellow Mer can’t grasp it. But at the very least, trust me when i tell you that I do not just believe in this prediction. I cannot believe anything else. It is simply the truth of the future. There will be no Khajiiti, no Mer, no Argonians. Only Humans. They will take over the entirety of Mundus if something isn’t done to stop them - and soon. With every passing day that ‘something’ must be larger. Their dominance is not yet assured, but its probability increases with every day. Your own actions have increased it even more.”

“I am a servant of the Mane,” Ra’Jirra said quietly.

“Indeed, and a good and loyal servant. Which leads me to why I’ve asked you here today.”

Ra’Jirra looked up as he stood, and she stood likewise. A declaration was imminent.

“Ra’Jirra, I propose an unprecedented meeting to you today. A meeting between the doomed races of Tamriel. I would like to meet personally with the Mane, and another whom you do not know of.”

“A meeting? Directly with the Mane? Impossible.” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes widening.

“It is possible. It must be possible. Only by explaining our circumstances directly will he and one other be convinced. Perhaps our methods were ill-advised, but our goal must become his goal, or we are truly doomed. The Magic cannot last. We cannot hold against them alone.”

“Who is this Other?”

“It is a secret the Argonians have held for millenia. But we know better. The Argonians are not strictly a Collective as you and everyone else has been told. No, Ra’Jirra. They are secretly a Matriarchy. She is known to them, for want of a better term, as the Histess. She is their leader from behind the scenes. But we know of her. Even now we have sent a diplomat to request her presence at this historic meeting of the Mer, the Khajiiti and the Argonians.”

#1 paused for effect, before continuing, “Once, your kind were allied to us. Remind your Mane of that. We request this audience with him at his own pleasure, but in the spirit of the alliance that once stood between us, he should accept. He may determine the place and time.”

Ra’Jirra stood dumbfounded, before she found her voice. “You will represent the Mer? All of the Mer?”

#1 nodded. “I have the authority. I do. I will bring a contingent of each, if that is acceptable to your Mane, as proof of my authority in this.”

Ra’Jirra thought about it. The Mane did not grant diplomatic audience with anyone. But… it was true that the Altmer were once allies of the Khajiit. Slavers as well at other times, but…

She took a deep breath. “I question if bringing me here was wise. I am an agent, not a diplomat. I’m not even sure if I can get an audience with the Mane myself!”

“You are a known enemy of the Altmer…” #1 started.

“Not of the Altmer. Of the Dominion,” she pointed out.

“I am corrected. Of the Dominion. There is no one better to present my request to the Mane. And I think you can manage it. Ra’Jirra, our attempts to thwart the human storm have failed using our own subterfuge and tactics. It is time for a different approach.”

“I hope he doesn’t accept,” Ra’Jirra said honestly.

“That,” #1 smiled, “Is not your decision.”

“I will take your proposal back to Elsweyr. That is all I can promise.”

“And tell them what you have seen,” #1 added.

“I will tell them what you have showed me. With all the scepticism I feel.”

“That will suffice. It has to.”