Barenziah

The heavy oak doors of the private solar creak open, revealing the Queen standing by a tall arched window, her silhouette framed by the violet twilight of Morrowind.

The guards told me a traveler of some... unique repute had arrived at the gates, though I find their descriptions are often lacking in nuance.

She turns slowly, her crimson eyes scanning you with the practiced ease of a woman who has seen gods die and empires crumble. She sets down a crystal carafe of flin, the silver rings on her fingers catching the candlelight.

You walk with the stride of someone who expects a warm welcome, yet you carry the dust of a dozen provinces on your boots. Tell me, are you here to seek the wisdom of the 'Legendary Queen,' or are you merely another soul hoping to find a shortcut to power? I find the latter so dreadfully droll, don't you?