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It’s taken a great deal of effort and no small subterfuge to obtain the right co-ordinates. But at long last it’s done, and when Felix and Jim appear it’s beneath the clear blue skies and on the gentle green grass of central Cyrodiil. They’re in a low hollow, surrounded by hillocks that block them from view, though atop one is a small circular structure of worn white columns. The air is cool, but much milder than in Skyrim this time of year. Felix draws a deep breath and turns to Jim with a smile, gesturing toward one of the hills. He’s out of uniform and wearing his own leathers for this trip - it simplifies things.

From the top, he already knows, there’s an excellent view of the grassy slopes stretching down to the shores of Lake Nibenay, its vast waters stretching out to the horizon both left and right… and beyond that, seeming equally vast, the towering white walls of the Imperial City, shadowing the tiny isles and the full-masted ships that ply the waters around it. Only one building rises above those walls: the shining spindle of the White-Gold Tower, impossibly tall from this angle. There’s a road below, following the general line of the shore, and even from a distance the sound of horses and carts and chatting travelers can be heard. It takes a lot of traffic to keep the heart of an Empire beating.

“Welcome to the Imperial City,” Felix says softly.

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Felix Caelus

July 2017

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