Helstrom, Argonia, Ruler’s keep council room. Rules-With-Claw 28th of the Second Seed --- “I do not care about some dissident group of mercenaries who do not heed the Hist. If they wish to waste their time attacking Morrowind, let them.” The dominating hiss of Argonia’s undisputed ruler echoed through the halls of the Ruler’s keep. He had taken the name Rules-With-Claw upon ascension to the throne, and he wore the mantle well. His powerful physique seemed to be made more powerful by the presence of the crown and the axe: his two symbols of power. “My lord…” The voice was from the lord of Thorn, the city that was the closest to the border of Morrowind. “...It is unlikely that the Dunmar will let such an assault slide. They will demand compensation.” “And we will give them none. We are not helpless anymore, Murraahk of Thorn. They will ask, and we will decline. If they wish to start a war against us, they will find that every shadow has scales. You are all dismissed.” The sound of chairs scraping on stone rang through the hall as every lord was sent away from the halls of the ruling Argonian...All except three. Rules-With-Claw was aware of the rumours that surrounded these particular argonians. The inner-council, the-claws-with-which-he-rules. Five individuals normally made up these, one was missing. They all held a different aspect of Argonian culture under their mastery: Sha’eek, the lady in waiting and the matriarch of the Shadowscales; Maraan’a, Archmagus of The Helstrom Academy of Mages and Speaks-with-Songs, the grand Hist-ee. He could spend an age describing these three, as well as the missing An-Xileel warclaw. They were his confidants and his most important of advisers. In these four alone, he would never doubt. Sha’eek was the first to speak. She cleared her throat in that subtle way she did, and suddenly she was the whisper everyone wanted to hear. “The agent is in place, lord. He infiltrated the mercenaries and now sits in Morrowind, awaiting command.” There were murmurs from the other three claws, with only the ruler himself remaining quiet. “That is good. You assure me he is unrecognisable from the others?” Rules-With-Claw looked at Sha’eek with the renewed enthusiasm of a man several years his younger. He had lost his life a great many moons ago, and Sha’eek had been the occasional company he’d taken since. What united them, he knows not. Perhaps she had intended to use him as much as he had planned to use her in the political game they used to play. Perhaps that was why they were such good friends, even now. “Of course, lord…” She paused, as if about to speak his name: his true name. Ever since he’d taken the mantle Rules-With-Claw, he had allowed only a few people to speak his Argonian title. It was a difficult word to pronounce, even for the beast folk. Amongst Men and Mer, it was an impossible utterance. “...He looks as any Argonian does. I doubt the rest of the mercenaries even know of his true colours.” Rules-with Claw nodded, a toothy grin on the warrior’s face. “That is good. Hopefully, we won’t need to even call upon him, yet I refuse to let the Dark elven Cat-dung think that I am pleased with how they trample on our ancestor’s graves. They have waned in the time since they shackled us, while we have waxed. They would do well to remember that.” Next, he turned to the two most mythical men in his kingdom. Both were adept at spellcraft, yet of such differing variants that it would be impossible to call them classmates. “I am told that my son left Stormhold a day ago, on the way to a council, or summit of some sorts. Does his journey bode well?” Both of the mystic men looked at each other and offered a smile. Then, in unison, they nodded at the Argonian leader and spoke in unison. “Yes, my lord.” --- Imperial Road, Cyrodiil wilds. Stalks-The-Stars 30th of the Second Seed --- Something felt good about being in the open world again. Stalks-The-Stars was hardly suited for the art of being a lordly lizard, and he missed the days he served as a general of the Au-Xileel. He had been a warrior: one of the highest ranking members of the argonian war machine. He had stalked the jungles of Argonia as a hunter and as a predator. Lords did not get to hunt, but it was what Stalks-The-Stars did best. He was hunting a different kind of prey now: one that had eluded Argonians for four eras thus far: Political intrigue. Stalks-The-Stars knew people in most kingdoms now. Envoys and lords who had visited his city and tried so very hard to ascertain what the newly opened Argonia lands could offer. In truth, he wasn’t sure himself. That was part of his reason for being here, really. He would make a tour of the 9 provinces at large if he had to. Thankfully, he doubted it would come to that. Indeed, his first stop was the most obvious one to visit on a mission of politics. The Imperial city itself. Every nation had an agent in these streets: every province had a place and every agent an agenda. He had but to show up on the emperor's doorstep with whispers of an Argonian proposal of alliance, and within a week, the entire nine provinces would likely sniff around the unknown and unaligned 9th entity. His father was a master at war, and Stalks-The-Stars fancied himself a warrior too, yet it was this game of intrigue that he found most fun, in recent years. Few argonian’s did it better than him. On the horizon, he could see the Imperial city. It didn’t even matter if the emperor was there or not: he just needed to make a statement: an invitation to Stormwind city would probably be enough to set the plans of himself and his father in motion.