Why were the Gods smiling upon me now? After all I'd done, the crimes I'd committed, here I stood with the key. The key that many men would kill for. The key out of the Imperial Prison.

As I stood there watching the wall open behind the Emperor, watching as the assassin's blade sunk into his back, my only thoughts were ones of escape. "...close shut the jaws of Oblivion". Yeah right, I thought. The old man was obviously getting senile in his old age. How could Oblivion be any threat to us?

Doomsayers always rub me up the wrong way.

The Empire would be in disarray once the news escaped of the Emperor's death. I could easily flee across the border without attracting attention from the local guards. My best bet would probably be to cross the Brena River into Hammerfell. I'm sure I could look up a few Redguards who still owe me a favour or two...

The door in front of me, the final guardian barring the way to freedom, opened with an ease unbefitting of its nature. I turned to give a fleeting glance at the barred gate behind me, the bringer of my current good fortune. One of the strange robed cultists lay slumped against the bars, the blood still trickling from the wounds left by Baurus's blade. From the corner of my eye I noticed there was something on the ground next to him, barely visible through the dusty gloom. I never could control my curiosity.

As I approached, the shapeless object took form; it was a piece of folded parchment. I crouched down on my knees and slid my hand through the bars, just managing to reach it with my arm at full outstretch. Standing up and unravelling the parchment revealed a map of Cyrodiil. I couldn't read the names at first as my brain tried to piece together words in the dim light. Suddenly it snapped into focus; the map was covered in daedric letters. As I looked closer I noticed some annotations had been added. Many areas had been circled in red, including the area around the Imperial Prison.

Something about this made me feel very uneasy. It didn't look like the insane scrawls of some wayward cult as I had previously suspected. It looked more like plans for a coordinated strike against every major town in Cyrodiil. Invasion plans.

As I folded the map back up, my fingers brushed against the thin wax seal at its bottom corner. It was hard, set, yet it was still warm...

I'd better find this man called Jauffre. If it means I can get rid of this amulet then all the better. I don't want to end up like the Emperor.