I was born 87 years ago. For 65 years I've ruled as Tamriel's Emperor. But for all these years I have never been the ruler of my own dreams. I have seen the Gates of Oblivion, beyond which no waking eye may see. Behold, in Darkness a Doom sweeps the land. This is the 27th of Last Seed; the Year of Akatosh 433. These are the closing days of the 3rd Era, and the final hours of my life.
[...]The houses here are shabby and ill-kept. The people are untidy and dull, with the exception of Anvil's famous citizen, the Argonian authoress, Quillweave, who produces wretched books celebrating the misadventures and schemes of the lower and criminal classes. This person does her race no favor by confirming the prejudices of many who consider Argonians to be ungodly, dishonest, and worthless, and little better than beasts…
Luhn-silvar, hortator,
Azura'm gah'amer,
Panthi-seht, sharmat-dra,
(Duet: gahjuli Nerevar.)
ouabihn biridar
Osuhn almese sut ohm
yalif sul devahr,
Nerevar.
