Felix Caelus

“Nothing that’s a match for us,” Felix answers, smile warming like an ember fanned by Jim’s words. They’re not kept waiting too long. A few more guards are taking their places in front of the temple, and then there’s a short fanfare from a couple of trumpeters, just to get everyone’s attention. A herald announces Titus Mede the Second, Emperor of Tamriel. The crowd falls silent as the huge temple doors swing silently open. The interior glows with red-orange lamplight, flickering over the white stone of a colossal statue that lies within, too big to be seen fully. There’s a hint of a curling tail and raised talons.

From the gloom beneath it steps a man in elaborate robes, royal purple and imperial red, grey haired and quietly dignified as he walks out to meet the crowd’s roaring approval. He’s flanked by half a dozen high priests and priestesses of Akatosh in their simple robes – and behind them a captain of the guard, side by side by a man in armor and mage’s hood. The Imperial Battlemage. Despite the watchful entourage, they keep their ranks loose, making sure everyone has a clear view of the man on their coins. The crowd has to be quieted again by the Emperor’s lifted hands before he addresses them.

”My fellow citizens, faithful subjects, honored guests from across Tamriel. Once more I welcome you to observe this most sacred of moments. We stand here to witness the turning of the wheel from the old life to the new, by the blessing of mighty Akatosh…”

Felix shuffles closer to Jim and wraps an arm around him while the Emperor speaks on about reflection, and setting aside the sorrows and errors of the past to embrace renewal. There’s a bit about reminding them all that endurance often means weathering great change, as the Empire has done so many times in the thousands of years since its founding. That that which was born in covenant with the Dragon will never fade, which sounds like a quiet dig at the watching Thalmor. And then the bit where he asks Akatosh to grant them his steadfast invincibility as they meet the coming year…

”As the hour turns toward midnight, let the old year pass, the new year begin,” he winds up, taking the torch offered by a priest and stepping up to the huge brazier on the temple steps. ”And all that is just and worthy endure with us!” So saying, he casts the torch down, the fire roaring up immediately around it to cheers and applause. "Vita Nova! New life to us all!"

“Finally,” Ushug says in the shadows behind them. “Bring on the booze!”

“Hail to the Emperor,” Terentius says wryly. “Hungry, boys?”