Chapter 11 - Exile
Part 4: Punishment

“I cannot begin to express my disappointment,” she began. “After all I’ve done for you. You steal. And not just things, but knowledge. And that is the biggest offense. Yes, some of these things you were taking are valuable, but it’s the knowledge; that’s the real tragedy, for it is priceless.

“So, what am I to do?” The Caller continued. “You were a rising star and gave much over the last few years. You have even garnered a bit of a following; admirers of your work and abilities.

“Normally I would have you caged and you would be put in with the other subjects, but I fear that doing so would cause too much turbulence. I cannot risk having the order that I have built here jeopardized by treating you like a common test subject. But, neither can I simply let you off with a verbal warning. So, what to do…?” The Callers voice trailed off as she contemplated her options. “Time. I need time to think. Your punishment must be in line with your transgressions, yet tempered against your past contributions; *while* at the same time, not arousing dissent from those that would still hold you in esteem.” The Caller was facing away from Ienarath at this point, but then turned, and with her eyes full of malice said, “You have put me in a very difficult position, girl…” With that, The Caller left.

It was two full days before Ienarath saw The Caller again, and when she did, it was in the dead of night and with her were four other mages. They were fairly senior members of the coven and respectable in their abilities. They were also all in good standing with The Caller.

“I’ve decided,” said The Caller, “that you shall be exiled.” She said nothing more. Taking a step back, and with a flourish, she cast a spell and everything went dark.

Ienarath opened her eyes. The bars of the cage where gone, yet the stone floor remained. She looked around through bleary eyes, desperate to focus them. There was a soft reddish glow from one side of the room, mixing in a curious fashion with a faint greenish hue that seemed to cling to the walls. There was a familiar sound emanating from the red glow, but it didn’t make sense; it was the unmistakeable sound of nirnroot, but nirnroot always gave off a bluish-white light, never anything else.

Finally, Ienarath regained her senses and realized that she was no longer in a cage, but rather a room; one of Dwemer construction, or at least strongly influenced by it. There was a fireplace, although dark at the moment, a small table, a bed, and both alchemy and enchanting stations. There were no windows and it was exceedingly quiet. Looking around, Ienarath saw among the debris lying on the floor, a skeleton. Near it was a small book. Opening the book, she quickly paged through it before looking on the inside of the front cover for a name, and there it was:


And thus ends the chronicles of Ienarath Volytun’s origins. The remainder of her journeys can be learned through the writings of her own hand.


>> Journals