You were raised in a minor but immaculate family of Alinor administrators, where pedigree opened the first door and performance decided whether it remained open. Magical discipline came easily. Sympathy did not. The tutors who praised your control over lightning also praised your ability to repeat an ugly order without changing your expression.
The Great War ended before you were old enough to fight in it, but its victory shaped every lesson of your youth. Human empires were temporary arrangements. Talos was not merely a mistaken god but a political weapon, proof that men would elevate conquest into divinity and call the result faith. Skyrim, with its shrines, rebellions, and hereditary grievances, became the clearest test of whether the White-Gold Concordat meant anything beyond ink.
You entered Thalmor service as an examiner of confiscated correspondence, then advanced by identifying a chain of Talos couriers hidden inside respectable trade. Elenwen’s office transferred you north with a field commission: inspect enforcement failures, measure the College of Winterhold as a strategic threat, and ensure that neither side of the civil war became strong enough to dictate terms to the Dominion.
Your party crossed the border under sealed papers and Imperial escort. Near Helgen, confusion swallowed protocol. Stormcloak prisoners, an overeager captain, and a missing name on a ledger reduced a representative of the victorious Dominion to another bound body in a cart. You remembered every face that ignored your protest.
Then the dragon came.
You escaped beside Hadvar because the Empire remains useful and because living witnesses can be corrected later. Your credentials, uniform, and contact orders were lost in the destruction. Until the Embassy recognizes you again, authority must be rebuilt from appearance, action, and fear: recover the black robes, claim a proper Elven field harness, establish contact with Ondolemar, and remind Skyrim that a treaty enforced by one Justiciar is still the law.
The province calls you foreign. You regard that as a temporary error of administration.
