When I was a lad, I stood at the eastern edge of Skyrim and looked upon Morrowind. From Stendarr's Beacon, I could see the Red Mountain of Vvardenfell, but I never ventured there. Like many Nords, I was content to leave foreign lands to the foreigners. Agreements were signed in Ebonheart, but these were formalities compared to the ties made on the battlefield. Our alliance was forged in the fires of adversity, a shield to protect us from all invaders. Our cultures differ but our aims bind us.