This came to me as a vision while i was on a bus and i wanted to draw it and truth be told i've made several sketches and i'll most likely be drawing other versions with somewhat similar composition, simply because i liked it so much
I cannot believe how pleasant-looking this turned out to be and how enjoyable it was to draw, i always wanted to have fun with lots of light colors dancing together like diamond's shine, seeing how the otehr artists are mastering this play of colors
Delightful!
Maybe it's my mental state but i can't really explain what was about this vision that made me so emotional or maybe i just really did miss drawing this much
These were the days of Resdaynia, when Chimer and Dwemer lived under the wise and benevolent rule of the AMLSIVI and their champion the Hortator. When the gods of Veloth would retreat unto their own, to mold the cosmos and other matters, the Hortator would at times become confused. Vivec would always be there to advise him, and this is the second of the three lessons of ruling kings:
this is the typical introduction to the "three lessons of ruling kings" sermons, of which there are, you guessed it, three.
'The secret syllable of royalty is this: (You must learn this elsewhere.)
as we learn in the previous sermon, sermon 12, the secret syllable of royalty is CHIM.
'The temporal myth is man.
i think this is actually a bit vague. yes, it could refer to "man" as "the human races of tamriel," i.e. nords, cyrods, bretons, redguards, etc. in which case, yeah, they don't live as long as elves do. but this could also refer to "man" as "humanity" in a broader sense, as in all mortal beings. even elves must die of old age eventually. (usually, at least.)
further, i think the overall phrase has a bit of a double meaning. my first impression was, "man is temporal, mortal, short-lived in the grand scheme of things, and therefore less important (mythical) than fact (reality)." however, i think you could take it another way: "man's temporality, his temporariness, his short-lived nature, is a myth, in that myths can be made of him long after his mortal demise." a great man lives long after he dies, because he was great, and made a name for himself through his actions in life.
'The magical cross is an integration of the worth of mortals at the expense of their spirits.
i thought long and hard about this part. i consulted other sources, and didn't care for their analyses, however intentional their conclusions might have been to the original text. i wanted an explanation less out-of-universe, more intrinsic to the setting. and here's what i came up with: the "cross" is the dual nature of anu and padomay, not as two extremes of a single axis, -∞ and ∞, but as two axes forming a plane of potential.
in this case, these two axes of anu and padomay are "an integration" of "the worth of mortals" (padomay giving dynamism and originality via chaos to mortals) "at the expense of their spirits" (the static concept of their being given via anu's order). these two concepts of "dynamism" and "staticism" (not sure that last one is a real word but work with me) are NOT opposites on a single spectrum, but dual spectra conjoined at an origin point. (we'll get back to that later.)
Surround it with the triangle and you begin to see the Triune house.
this part is easy. the triangle is, originally, the three good daedra (azura, boethiah, and mephala), and now the tribunal (sotha sil, almalexia, and vivec respectively). this concept of "houses" we see in multiple contexts throughout the lessons reappears.
It becomes divided into corners, which are ruled by our brethren, the Four Corners: BAL DAGON MALAC SHEOG.
technically, the corners existed prior to the triangle surrounding the cross. but okay, vivec. this is pretty simple, as well: the four corners of the house of troubles, molag bal, mehrunes dagon, malacath, and sheogorath. i'm not sure if you can like, place them in their own quadrants on this graph? if you can think of a good way to do this, let me know.
Rotate the triangle and you pierce the heart of the Beginning Place, the foul lie, the testament of the irrefutable-for-a-span.
here's the origin point! i'll be honest, i don't know what vivec means by "rotate the triangle." what does that even mean…….just spin it forever and ever until it's a circle? maybe… who can say! the origin point of the graph, "the Beginning Place," is…well. several things. it's a kind of "genesis" of two kinds. (this duality is, as you may have noticed, common in this sermon, as well as in the lessons in general.) the initial creation of the aurbis, but also the Convention which settled it into its current state. the initial conception by lorkhan is a "foul lie" in that he supposedly tricked his fellow et'ada into creating it, thereby trapping them within it. the Convention is a "foul lie" in that it designates auri-el as the chief of the aurbis, the origin of time itself.
"the testament of the irrefutable-for-a-span" is the kalpa, the cyclical period of time when the aurbis, the world as we know it, holds steady. it's irrefutable in its reality, its realness. but only "for-a-span"; it cannot hold forever.
this "origin point" serves a dual-dual purpose as being a representation of not CHIM itself, but the realization that brings about CHIM: the gnosis of the nature of the world.
Above them all is the horizon where only one stands, though no one stands there yet. It is proof of the new. It is the promise of the wise.
this refers to a concept which i don't think is ever referred to in-game (unless eso has proven me a liar once again) called "amoranth." amoranth is kind of like super CHIM: if CHIM is the gnosis that the world is the dream of anu, then amoranth is supplanting anu as the new dreamer of a new dream. this is something explored in kirkbride's C0DA, if you're interested.
Unfold the whole and what you have is a star, which is not my domain, but not entirely outside my judgment.
you might imagine this refers to almalexia somehow, since her domain is the stars. but given what we know about the sharmat, dagoth ur, from sermon 15, it's safe to say this is about him. generally speaking, you could say "the stars" is ayem's domain, whereas "a star" probably refers to the sharmat and the heart of lorkhan. vivec knows he cannot understand or master what the sharmat understands and masters, but he can yet judge it as false, nonetheless.
The grand design takes flight; it is transformed not only into a star but a hornet.
i'm not 100% sure what i think is meant by "hornet" here. here's my best guess: the grand design (the aurbis) takes flight (becomes active), and it is buzzing about with life (a hornet).
The center cannot hold. It becomes devoid of lines and points. It becomes devoid of anything and so becomes a receptacle. This is its usefulness at the end. This is its promise.
as a result of the hornets flitting about the world, the origin point at the center "cannot hold". this line, "the center cannot hold," is a direct reference to a line from william butler yeat's poem "the second coming," which i don't know much about beyond that. the title of the poem is evocative, of course, of the second coming of christ, the apocalyptic end of all things.
i believe "devoid of lines and points" COULD refer to the ongoing collapse of towers in tamriel, with "lines" being "towers" and "points" being "stones." without these reference points to tie down meaning on nirn, it becomes "devoid of anything," nearly meaningless, and therefore "a receptacle," a vacuum of meaning waiting to be filled.
'The sword is the cross and ALMSIVI is the Triune house around it.
confirming that the triangle is the tribunal, but also claiming that the cross and the sword are identical. refer to my post on sermon 23, the scripture of the sword. this also connects to the theme of duality in this sermon.
If there is to be an end I must be removed. The ruling king must know this, and I will test him. I will murder him time and again until he knows this. I am the defender of the last and the last. To remove me is to refill the heart that lay dormant at the center that cannot hold.
i think most of this is self-explanatory. the ruling king in these sermons refers both to nerevar and nerevarine. vivec "killed" nerevar and has persecuted the nerevarine cult, "killing" each attempted incarnation as they come. vivec is supposedly trying to teach nerevar (rather, his reincarnating soul) that he is an obstacle to the conclusion (said conclusion being the defeat of the sharmat and the "refilling of the heart", a.k.a. lorkhan's heart, now taking on the symbology of "the center that cannot hold") that must be defeated in some way in order to bring about the conclusion. in our story, vivec is defeated by proof rather than combat (canonically, at least). he is "the defender" until the truth he defends can no longer be denied.
I am the sword, Ayem the star, Seht the mechanism that allows the transformation of the world. Ours is the duty to keep the compromise from being filled with black sea.
okay, i know i said that "star" singular almost always refers to the sharmat/heart of lorkhan, with "stars" referring to ayem and her domain, but this is like, the only exception in the lessons. all other "star" references are either sharmat/heart or literal stars/astronomical objects.
"the compromise" here is aurbis, a blending of order and chaos, staticism and dynamism, anu and padomay. "the black sea" is the pure void of padomay outside the aurbis.
'The Sharmat sleeps at the center. He cannot bear to see it removed, the world of reference. This is the folly of the false dreamer. This is the amnesia of dream, or its power, or its circumvention. This is the weaker magic and it is barbed in venom.
"the center" ("that cannot hold") here refers to both meanings of the center, as both the irrefutable genesis of reality and the heart of lorkhan specifically. the sharmat wants a "world of reference," a world of false reality (for a "false dreamer", since anu is the true dreamer) to rule over. he forsakes the truth for a lie, "the amnesia of dream," and thereby finds a power, albeit a "weaker magic" that is "barbed in venom," in downsides.
'This is why I say the secret to swords is the mercy seat. It is my throne.
we've heard this before, from sermon 11: "The secret of weapons is this: they are the mercy seat."
what's the "mercy seat?" well, biblically, it's the lid of the ark of the covenant, where God's divine presence dwelt. but the bible doesn't exist in tamriel, so what would it mean within the setting's context?
well, we know that ayem is most commonly associated with "mercy" as a concept. but i don't think this really refers to her. vivec sees violence as his own kind of "mercy," as both as a coup de grâce, or mercy stroke, to put down the wounded after battle with the victor, but also a "sharpening" of the wounded into the victor. as God Himself, free from the restraints of luck, vivec decides the victor…and he decides when the defeated may become the victor later, after becoming stronger in their defeat. this plays into the themes of trauma and recovery in the lessons.
I am become the voice of ALMSIVI. The world will know me more than my sister and brother. I am the psychopomp. I am the killer of the weeds of Veloth.
by writing the lessons vivec becomes "the voice of ALMSIVI," the one willing to tell the truth, however couched in poetry and mystery as he is inclined to do so. "the world will know" him more than his "sister and brother," both because canonically he survives them both, but also due to his religious significance in the tribunal temple. almalexia is certainly an important figure in the temple, even walking among her children as their mother, but vivec contributes more to the spiritual lives of their devotees through his writings.
a "psychopomp" is a figure in a mythology who carries the dead to their afterlife destination; the ones you've most likely heard of are the egyptian anubis, the greek charon, and the norse valkyries. vivec claims to carry the "weeds of Veloth" directly to the afterlife by killing them personally.
Veloth is the center that cannot hold. Ayem is the plot. Seht is the ending. I am the enigma that must be removed. These are why my words are armed to the teeth.
another "center that cannot hold"???? you betcha. vivec sees veloth (here referring to morrowind itself, not to the prophet) as the stage for the center's "unfolding," seeing as it was where the heart of lorkhan landed, and where gods (tribunal, dagoth ur, numidium and thereby talos) were made (and eventually unmade).
ayem is the plot because her anticipation is the prince of plots, boethiah. seht is the ending because his anticipation is azura, prince of (dawn and) dusk. vivec is an "enigma," a kind of puzzle that the nerevarine must solve in order to know truth, in order to defeat the sharmat and close this treacherous chapter of history. but what good's a game without stakes? an "enigma" without "words…armed to the teeth"?
'The ruling king is to stand against me and then before me. He is to learn from my punishment. I will mark him to know. He is to come as male or female. I am the form he must acquire.
the nerevarine ("the ruling king") stands against vivec as apocryphal messiah of the cult, then before him when vivec can refute them no more. they learn from vivec's "punishment," which is, again, twofold: both the punishment of the cult and dissident priests, and also the punishment vivec endures, as a lonely god. the nerevarine's form doesn't matter ("male or female"), because vivec's didn't matter.
'Because a ruling king that sees in another his equivalent rules nothing.'
if you don't inherently see yourself as better than everyone else, you cannot be "a ruling king." this is why the nerevarine must prove themselves worthy to defeat the sharmat:
"Hortator and Sharmat, one and one, eleven, and inelegant number. Which of the ones is the more important? Could you ever tell if they switched places? I can and that is why you will need me." - Sermon 11
by which vivec again asserts that he, as God Himself, is the decider of fate, not chance. vivec fills the role of observer in the enantiomorph between hortator and sharmat, nerevar and voryn, nerevarine and dagoth ur.
This is what was said to the Hortator when Vivec was not whole.
remember sermon 12, the pomegranate banquet. vivec has lost his "feet" and his "head" to "molag bal," "the king of rape." lots of quotations there because none of that is literal. vivec was raped (not literally by molag bal) and lost his sense of self, his sense of self-worth. he has not yet "repaired" himself, brought himself back together from the trauma he endured.
i'm not sure if vivec actually said anything like this to nerevar during this time. he could have been trying to put up a facade, to pretend nothing was wrong, doing what he usually does in advising the hortator. or this could just be a literary contrivance, putting this sermon here. it's hard to say.
Two standing braziers faintly illuminated the tapestries on the walls as Qismehti approached. They were sacred triangles, each corner representing the three holy symbols: Ayem. Seht. Vehk. Above the tri-faced Tribunal shrine was a mural of the three living gods: Vivec’s head aflame and sword in hand; Almalexia in full battle regalia, including her devilish mask; Sotha Sil levitating limbless next to his divine siblings.
Before the pit of ash and bone knelt a hooded stranger, whose head tilted ever so slightly towards Qismehti as she approached, but not enough to reveal their face. But the fabric of their drab cloak shifted enough to reveal the much more exquisite clothes beneath.
Qismehti approached, her ebony armor clanking, knelt before the Waiting Door next to the stranger, and began to pray. She was Redoran, but her connection to these ancestors was faint. An outlander’s adoption into a House afforded them only scant access to their spirits. But she needed their wisdom today of all days.
After some time of mostly failed communion, she glanced at her fellow beseecher. Poking out from the hood was a familiar chin, bedecked with a beaded red beard.
“Grandmaster,” Qismehti said without turning her head fully.
“Ah, am I that recognizable?” answered Llethym Hlaarothan from beside her, smirking at his clasped hands.
“Yes,” said Qismehti. “What are you doing here? Wrong canton.”
“Yes, well,” Llethym began. “You know, Mehti. Our temple is still under construction.”
“I didn’t suspect you as the religious type,” Mehti said.
Llethym lowered his hands and slapped them on his lap. “It’s politically expedient to at least appear the type,” he said. “Indoril’s been pushing our buttons about it recently.”
“Then why the cloak? Not everyone will recognize you as I do.”
“Enough questions,” sighed Llethym.
“It’s my House’s house. I think I have the right to question an intruder.”
“An intruder?” exclaimed Llethym, turning his head and putting on an expression of faux shock. “You wound me, Mehti.”
Qismehti grunted and said nothing.
Llethym pulled back his hood and asked, “So what are you doing here, Archmaster?”
It seemed as though she wasn’t going to get any more prayer done today. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I think,” Llethym began, “you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”
Mehti sighed. “It’s the Archmagister.”
“What of her?”
“She wants me to declare her Hortator.”
“Ah,” said Llethym, looking away. “I suppose I should have told you. She’s dead-set on finishing this whole ‘Nerevarine’ business. Won’t call it done until Dagoth Ur is dead. Did you know she already has the Ashlander tribes behind her?”
“Yes,” Qismehti said, “she told me.”
“Just give it to her,” advised Llethym. “She’ll do anything to get it. She killed the Duke’s fool brother, and nearly everyone who worked for him, for it.”
Qismehti sighed and stood, wiping scattered ash from her greaves. “There’s only one way for her to become Hortator of the Redoran.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re tough, but she’ll kill you.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I said don’t be stupid!” Llethym jumped to his feet to face Qismehti. “No ancestors could save you, certainly not any that you can barely claim!”
Qismehti scoffed and casually drew her ebony war axe, tossing the sharply-hooked bladed instrument into the air and catching it effortlessly under the beard, then returning it to the loop on her belt. “I don’t think I’ll need them.”
“She won’t hesitate to use magic,” Llethym reminded. “She’s a Telvanni, b’Vehk. She doesn’t have to abide by your rules.”
“I’ll have some tricks up my sleeve, too,” Qismehti said, smiling at Llethym pointedly.
“Oh,” he said, “you expect me to intervene? She’s already my Hortator, Mehti. I can’t enchant anything for you to use against her.”
“Just some scrolls is all I’ll need,” she replied. She leaned in to whisper into his ear…
- - - - -
Qismehti and Ku-vastei entered the Vivec Arena simultaneously. Word had spread across the city, across all of Vvardenfell, about this fight. As a result, the upper level was packed with spectators. Redorans cheered for their Archmaster; Telvannis placed bets on their Archmagister. Hlaalu and its Grandmaster watched on anxiously, concerned for any potential shifting of power between the other two houses. Ordinators struggled to keep peace amidst the excitement.
Ku-vastei was clad in gleaming adamantium armor from head to ankle, her digitigrade feet exposed and pressing footprints into the dusty arena floor. Her pensive face was revealed by the visorless helm, perfectly composed and prepared. In her beringed claws was an adamantium spear of some sort, tri-pronged and deadly sharp. Qismehti, familiar with weaponry of all kinds, didn’t recognize the make.
Qismehti wore her usual attire: a suit of gilded ebony armor, complete with matching shield and war axe. On her belt were three scrolls. Ku-vastei couldn’t discern their possible contents from this distance, and could only guess as to their purpose, if they held any at all. The only other thing that differed from when Ku-vastei made the challenge was that Qismehti wore her full ebony helmet, concealing her face completely.
After the announcer introduced them and bid them fight, the two of them circled the arena for some time, waiting for the first strike.
“We don’t have to do this,” said Ku-vastei, loud enough for Qismehti alone to hear her. “We can both go home, and you can name me Hortator…peacefully.”
Qismehti made no reply, and charged at Ku-vastei.
Mehti attempted an overhead chop, which Ku caught under the beard with her spear turned horizontal. Ku tugged the spear towards herself, trying to force the axe from Mehti’s hand, but her grip was too strong. All she succeeded in doing was bringing the blade of the axe closer to her cuirass.
To disengage, Ku twisted the spear, unlocking the axe from it, and jumped backwards. She attempted a quick thrust during the leap, but Mehti brought up her shield, causing the spear’s point to scrape to the side with a screech. Mehti kept up her advance, swiping sideways with her axe, forcing Ku to deflect with a quick spin of her spear. Again the shaft caught underneath the beard of the axe, shifting Mehti’s balance.
But Mehti let go of the axe. Instead she pulled a scroll from her belt with her now-free hand, and punched Ku’s exposed foot with her shield. Ku instinctively doubled over to clutch at her battered toes, but it gave Mehti an opening. She let the scroll fall open, touched it to Ku’s chest, and shouted:
“THAT WHICH DEFINES YOU WILL PROVE TO BE YOUR UNDOING.”
Dark red light emanated from the Daedric inscribed on the scroll, and Ku froze. All her muscles locked up, and she couldn’t move an inch. In her compromised position, she fell to the floor in exactly the same pose as she had stood.
The crowd fell completely silent.
Qismehti, beneath her ebony visor, smiled. The s’wit’s scroll worked. She leisurely fetched her axe from the floor nearby, and returned to Ku-vastei to finish the job. She knelt before Ku-vastei’s paralyzed body and raised her axe to strike -
But she hesitated.
Ku swung out her leg as soon as she broke free from the scroll’s curse. It caught Mehti in the shoulder, dislocating it and throwing her to her side. Ku jumped to her feet but immediately bent over, coughing up blood. Mehti rolled away just before Ku could crash the speartip down on her in a wild act of vengeance.
Ku wiped her mouth and glared at the ebony warrior who now stood before her. She spun her spear with a flourish and then pointed it directly at Mehti’s heart before approaching. Mehti grabbed another scroll and frantically read its contents:
“STRENGTH AND HONOR. DEATH TO OUR ENEMIES.”
The words glowed blue, and Mehti felt rejuvenated. Her shoulder locked back into its socket painlessly, and she felt invigorated, her axe-arm growing stronger. Not to mention, the reckless escape had pumped an adrenaline rush into her veins.
Mehti put up her block just as Ku arrived, effortlessly deflecting the spear to the side. She counterattacked, swinging her axe directly at Ku’s helm. It bounced off to the side, but left a nasty dent. Ku backtracked and clutched at her rattled head. Mehti kept up her advance, swinging again for the same spot. But Ku caught the blow with her bracer, bouncing it away. Mehti attempted one more swipe, but Ku had recovered, and deflected it with her spear.
Ku retreated further, and Mehti, her magical and innate advantages running dry, settled on waiting. Ku made a gesture with her spare claw, that of the Hearth, and her body was wreathed with several azure sparks. She rectified her posture from one of near-defeat to one of confidence. She put up another gesture, and mumbled something; her form was covered in a violet shell. Mehti, ill-versed in magic, knew not these signs, but they worried her.
Once ready again, Ku approached, spear leveled towards Mehti. She tried for a stab, which was easily blocked. But she transferred the momentum into a downward sweep, which Mehti failed to jump. She took the blow hard to her ankle, buckling that leg. Instinctively she raised her shield for another strike which she narrowly halted in time. From behind the shield she reached out her axe-arm to strike. Ku didn’t bother to defend; the blade of the axe seemed to be stopped before it reached her cuirass, bouncing off of some invisible force field. A Shield, dammit.
Ku spun her spear, thwacking Mehti’s overextended wrist, prising the axe’s haft from her grip. Then she gave Mehti’s shield a mighty guar-kick, sending her to the ground. Mehti’s head hit the floor of the arena hard, knocking the ebony helmet from its place there. Ku mounted Mehti, straddling her body as she raised her spear to strike -
There was just enough wiggle room to grab -
Mehti whispered something just before Ku dropped the blade into her exposed throat. A green light flashed in Ku’s eyes, and she stopped. “What did you say?”
Qismehti shook her head, saying only, “Do it, then.”
Ku-vastei tilted her head. “Why should I, friend?” She looked around at the spectators of the fight, the Telvanni cheering and the Redorans jeering and the Hlaalu silent. “Why should we continue this charade? You were dragged into this prophetic business the same as I was; let me finish it. Call me Hortator.”
Qismehti closed her eyes. Finally she sighed, “You are Hortator.”
Ku-vastei smiled her wide smile and stood, offering a hand to help Qismehti stand. The two of them stumbled to the center of the arena, hand-in-hand, as the crowd watched on in silence. Together, with their hands clasped, they raised their arms. “Hortator!” cried Qismehti for all to hear. There was a deafening roar from the audience, as all jumped to their feet, clapping and hollering - even the reticent Hlaalu.
Llethym was the only in his retinue to remain silent, but he smiled. An unstoppable force, he thought, and an immovable object - and yet both still stand. He offered a genuine prayer to Azura, for the first time in years.
