Post-Crisis anolysis on the State of Cyrodiil
or
Weathering the Storm

Tirandar Sundala
Artaeum (Recently Returned)

Debate and speculation over the uncertain fate of the Tamrielic Empire has proliferated over the past months in forms both heedless and hasty. However, I remind the greater scholarly assembly that ‘Tamrielic Empire’ is a loose, modern term. Its nature is collective and generalizing, and its use seduces our minds into oversimplifying the issues at hand. Therefore let us not forget that the primary institution of this continent started at its center, and that empires seldom fall from without. Indeed, we have survived the threat from the single, most extreme definition of “without,” and it is time to look inwards once again.

In past eras both common whim and official stances demanded the use of the moniker ‘Cyrodiilic Empire.’ This term is now rarely-used, and this report will endeavor to display the significance and ominous nature of this fact.

Abstract


The full text of this report, with source material and manuscripts included, is far too bulky for swift communication, so the following summary shall arrive some days ahead by messenger bird.

My findings on the survivability of the Cyrodiilic Empire in its present incarnation are thus: It cannot meet its present challenges. The doom reserved for the Heartland is not the doom of a civilization or even a question of military or political precariousness. Expect no insurrections, no resurgence of some recurring threat. The Camorans and Umarils be damned, the hegemony of Imperial White-Gold scoffs at such attacks, according to its nature as the indomitable center of the Mundus.

The damning factors are social, economic, and historical, a slow rot inside the Imperial Province that may be called a destructive cancer or merely a natural symptom of Empire.

In no particular order, I present the greatest earthly threats to the Empire.

An Empire of its Provinces:

Many of the Empire’s greatest assets have come from beyond the borders of Cyrodiil. Talos was born in Atmora or High Rock. Numidium came from Morrowind, and its moniker Brass-God is a worthy one, considering the untold mineral wealth to be had there. Nordic and Akaviri attributes respectively infused Colovia and Nibenay with their vitality. The power of the Legions is multiplied over and again by the fighting spirit of the ra’gada and pig-men of Orsinium. Imperial High Culture owes its existence to exchange with Summerset aristocracy, and even Elsweyr drives the flow of wealth with a massive, illegal trade in Moon Sugar. This is not a comprehensive or even inclusive list, but a cursory glance at the value of the fiefs to be found under the wing of the new Dominion.

So wherein lies the danger? If this scholar had drawn up a ‘comprehensive list,’ the provinces to be rarely mentioned would be Argonia, Valenwood, …and Cyrodiil. The Empire is cruising along, if you will forgive the expression, like a Breton merchant cog, sailing on the winds of its satellite kingdoms. The Imperial Province is in danger of falling into irrelevance.

A Center No More


Cyrodiil’s resources lie ignored. The province, even after so many years, is supplied with an embarrassment of natural riches: timber, silver, fertile soil, enough quarry-ready stone to rebuild Kvatch and Sutch thrice over. These resources and their associated industries are still and idle because the provinces are so adept at providing them instead. It is impossible to compete with the plethora of monopolistic contracts granted to the Empire’s Charter companies. A purple tide of ebony and a green glacier of glass from Vvardenfell have descended upon Cyrodiil in recent years, shattering both the economy of Nibenay and the viability of those markets in the region. Agriculture is now almost unknown in some regions, as grain is either imported or grown for the sole purpose of local subsistence. These problems do, perhaps, have additional roots and causes in the period of climate change that transformed Nibenay, but that is a study for a different time.

The written histories, even those that were never “reviewed” by the Empire, are remarkably harmonious on this point: it was the soldiery of Cyrodiil that conquered Tamriel. Nibenay and Colovia grasped the same banner and fused their vital talents, creating an invincible machine of conquest. The Imperial Legions are still an unequaled force, but where are they? Cyrodiil has exported even its own defense to the provinces. The only martial presence in Cyrodiil, besides the bannermen of the Counties, is an anomalous body that bears no resemblance to the actual Legions. Its ranks are homogenous, having been drawn entirely from the Imperial male population. This flies in the face of the radically inclusive and cosmopolitan Legion of Vvardenfell, which is flexible and resilient. The Legion of Cyrodiil is now an unrelated entity, drawn from a distinct, equestrian class, primarily devoted to patrol and public order, bedecked in expensive, impractical equipment that suggests a ceremonial role. These troops were almost entirely paralyzed during the Oblivion Crisis, and took no part in the battles for Bruma or the other besieged towns. Clearly, they cannot compare with the forces abroad in the provinces, which remain effective even as they become increasingly regional. Why were the Legions absent during the crisis? Because they no longer belong to the Empire so much as the areas they occupy. This scholar also wonders if those in command questioned whether greater Cyrodiil contained anything worth protecting.

The failings examined above could be remedied but for an unfortunate fact: the Capital is defunct as the administrative center of an Empire. It is no longer a nexus of government and command, nor even a royal seat for the Emperor. As the Emperor’s health and resolve declined, the Elder Council and his heirs performed many of his duties. It is no surprise that such a diverse body of governors sent policy in a multitude of conflicting directions. The result was that the Empire came to be run on a case-by-case basis, with each province enjoying treatment specific to its status and to the stances of its councilor. At the present time the client kingdoms and fiefs of the Empire enjoy more autonomy than at any other time in the Septim dynasty, and certainly more than was ever intended. In fact, each region outside the border of Cyrodiil has become so independent of Imperial jurisdiction, and so unique in the workings of its government, that the Elder Council has vacated the Capital. This has led to a critical decentralization of power and indirectly, a state of isolation within Cyrodiil in terms of culture and economy.

Cyrodiil Transformed


These problems have solutions, make no mistake. Regrettably, there is no entity extant with the capacity to implement them. The bone and marrow of the Empire has always been the magnetism of Cyrodiil and its people. Even without the favor of the gods and the ranks of invincible heroes, the Seat of Sundered Kings was destined for greatness, for its nature as the center of the world and all its forces could not have been denied. It was upon this eternal fact that the three Empires of Man have been built . The fact remains, (witness the Dragon-Statue of Akatosh) but the province it applies to does not. The interplay between east and west, Nibenay and Colovia, gave the Empire its strength. That constructive rivalry is at an end. Not even the landscape has escaped the devolution.

Nibenay is no more. It exported its own virtue and was dwarfed by the powers it spawned. With eclipse came isolation, and when separated from its source of heritage and vitality it lost its image of itself. No longer rich and powerful, immigration from the neighboring provinces bring the worst those regions have to offer, and the Heartland is further changed from what it once was. Today the Thousand Cults of the Imperial City are forgotten, once-endless farmland has gone to seed, and the mouth of the Niben slowly silts, making navigation impossible even if there were ports to attract nautical trade.

Colovia experiences similar problems. The spirit of the robust North has run dry, and the region has become impotent. While the Highlands does not lament turning inwards, isolation will have ill effects here as well. The Gold Coast still thrives, but it now represents the entirety of Cyrodiil’s exchange with the outside world, it is pulling the weight of a province. Money flows, but trade is not the role of the Colovian West.

Cyrodiil’s two halves brought the Empire into being by playing the roles of opposites, with one providing for the weakness of the other with its own strengths. This interplay is no more.

Think of the Remanada. That legend seems more familiar every day, for modern Cyrodiil is becoming ever more similar to the fractured, benighted land where Hrol made love to Alessia. This decline will continue unless a Reman again springs forth from the mud.

History as the Falsehood of Racial Will

Aranat Leedori
3^rd Frostfall 2E 861
Transcript of his speech to the Assembly of Domestic Studies at the Imperial Library


Lords of the Assemby.

I, Aranat Leedori, come before you today to speak of a taint, a malodorous cancer growing in the science of History. A taint, and a colossal failing of the greater scholarly endeavor, amounting to a great lie perpetuated before the whole of our civilization. Yes my lords, I speak of that insidious house, that school of… I hesitate to say “thought,” that owes entirely its acceptance to public ignorance and the cynical manipulations of an Emperor who rightly seeks loyalty and support but does so to the great detriment of truth. What name shall I put to this great agent of deception? What better name than that that is already supplied by its own theologians? Out of Atmora!

I shall recount the branches and varieties of untruth to the assembly, not because I think any of you unacquainted with the subject, but because I suspect that many of you are deluded.

In the most extreme cases of its dishonesty, Out of Atmora denies the existence of the Nedic peoples, slighting the population of a continent by regarding them as yet more beggarly exiles from the frozen north. This outlandish history inflates the importance of the Nordic race, enshrining its supposed status as the uncorrupted original fount of all virile virtues from whence all lesser men sprang. This falsehood is the mortar in the stones of Tiber Septim’s northern alliances.

Out of Atmora has recruited legions of apologists to reconcile truth and untruth to their advantage, propagating theories that invoke the arrival of Ysgramor as the dividing line between Nord and Nede. Less flagrant perhaps, but the aboriginal status of the Nedics is still denied, all in an attempt to ennoble the immigrant race and ignore the birthright of the indigenous as scions of Tamriel!

How do these puppets of the eugenicists reconcile their views with logic? How do they suppose that a wave upon wave of hostile alien entered the Elf-held continent in peace, to diffuse throughout? How can the Kothringi of Black Marsh, the aboriginals of Hammerfell, and the elusive, extinct denizens of Morrowind be sons of Atmora? Perhaps the Patriarch of the Temple of Morihaus put it best when he angrily proclaimed, “Queen Alessia, the Al-Esh, was no Snow Man!” How can the vibrant legacy of Nibenay’s tribal peoples be swept aside even as they are held in higher regard by their descendants with every passing day?

Yet more apologists suggest that some, some of the peoples I have mentioned may indeed be indigenous, but not most. This folly does not withstand its own weight, my lords, for Out of Atmora has come to rely on the absolute. If even one race of mankind comes not from Atmora, then the entire mythology of the sacred northern homeland collapses and collapse it will! Out of Atmora recognizes the threat that the Ra Gada pose to their theology. Locked in combat with our brave legionaries are the dusky proof that Atmora cannot be the home of all Shezzar’s children. And so they exploit the patriotism of the people and enflame hostility towards Hammerfell, seeking censures and discredit upon scholarly examinations of the Yokudan people.

And so it goes in all circles of historical thought- the forces of politics intrude into the realm of the intellect, their interests and attendant institutions trampling on academic merit. No more, my lords! Even as my peers are cowed to silence my voice shall rise! I am Aranat Leedori, in whose blood there is no trace of the northern continent. My ancestors were born on the Starry Heart of Dawn’s Beauty, and knew Shezzar by another name. Their wrists bore the shackles of the Ayleids and with their wrists they grasped the implements of war as they threw them off. Do not think for a moment that the ways of our beloved Cyrodiil and its verdant, towered heart are naught but the fierceness of northmen and the decadent trappings of wicked elves. We too walked the jungles of Cyrod, unoppressed and unconcerned with the blasphemies of the Heartland mer. The Ancestory Moth does not live in the cold, and Alessia was no Snow Man.