[i]An unsent letter to Razlinc Rourken.[/i]

Governor,

First of all, I would like to congratulate you on the spectacular defense you put up in my attempt on your life. Never before have I seen a sorcereress of such skill and power and I don't think I ever will again. I will readily admit that I severely underestimated you. Thinking back on it, I should have known: the Dwemer hail from a time in which kings and warlords were the most powerful warriors that walked Tamriel. Dumac, Nerevar, Ysgramor... the list goes on and on. In today's political climate, after many centuries of [i]Pax Imperialis[/i] provided by the Empire, rulers have become bureaucrats and delegated the role of general and champion to their subjects. You mentioned that you had trained in various styles of weaponry during your exile when we visited the palace and had our audience with you. I took this to mean something ceremonial, a hobby of yours, and certainly did not expect your destructive power to rival that of the Dragonborn. You were wise to prepare yourself this way. Tamriel will never accept your presence -- you will have to fight to carve out a space for your people. Forever.

That said, it is a shame that your people are not as well-prepared as their matriarch was for their arrival in my realm. All it took to come face-to-face with you was taking advantage of a coordinated attack by the resistance on the palace and following in their shadow. None of the guards I encountered were capable of stopping me. You saw what happened to them. Now you know what is necessary to keep your people safe: [i]you are.[/i] And you cannot do this from the confines of your palace. You cannot be everywhere at once. Hell, you could not even keep your lover safe. That's what he was, wasn't he? The clean-shaven officer? I saw it in your eyes when you destroyed him. 

You defeated me in single combat. Yet, when I consider the balance of the scales, it seems that I have come out on top. The Khajiit you sent after my lover did not succeed in his task. I made a promise to Raelynn that I would have my revenge for the crimes committed against her. First I sought out Zaveed, your instrument, and broke him. But that was not enough. You gave the orders and you were still unscathed. Zaveed means nothing to you. In order to complete my promise, I had to go after you. The ideal outcome was that I would have taken your soul and sent it beyond, to the maw-beyond-the-stars, the ever-hungry pit of the Soul Cairn. Instead, I stumbled upon the bloody and battered form of your lover, nearer to death than to life. I saw that he was important and that his spirit was strong. The hatred in his eyes was potent. I can still feel it when I hold his soul in the palm of my hand. He will serve me well in my quest. 

What quest, you might ask? All you saw was a ghoul and a charlatan. This is because you know nothing about me. My family suffers from a degenerative disease that destroys our brains when we reach middle age, taking our memories before killing us slowly and painfully. For us humans, this is as soon as between our fiftieth and sixtieth year of life. A pitifully short time. You, as an elf, must understand. To avoid such a fate for myself, my brother and my sister, I seek the immortality of undeath and for that I need souls. 

The realm your people built for themselves in Oblivion is crumbling. You told me as much. That is why you have come to Tamriel with fire and fury. You fear for your own extinction. Through despicable methods, you seek to avoid the inevitable. Tell me then, Governor, how we are different? I cannot see it. You trade the lives of your people for power and security for the survivors. I, too, trade the lives of your people for my own survival. That I raise the corpses of your slain subjects to achieve my goals is of little consequence. The Dwemer create machines fueled by the souls of my people and utilize them for the war effort. Once again, I see no difference between us. 

My lover still lives. Yours is dead and you will never see him again. No afterlife can ever reuinte the two of you. You can scour the realms forever but no matter where you look -- no heavens, no hells -- will you find him. 

Fear not. I have the power to bring you together. Supplicate yourself at my feet and I will gladly send your soul to spend an eternity together in the Cairn. Remember that I am out there, getting stronger with every soul I gather. I will become immortal soon enough. No matter how long you live, how long you wait, I will always be there. You will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Every shadow could be me. 

Is it not easier to just give up now? 

Yours faithfully,
Gregor Sibassius