Abnur Tharn, once again. If I'd had a drake for every petty king or would-be emperor that wanted to get their filthy mittens on the Amulet of Kings, I could purchase Akavir right out from under the scaly feet of those detestable snake-people. Without the Amulet of Kings, Tamriel endured just as it did when the "divinely-chosen" wore it around their necks. The sun rose, people killed each other over greed and petty ambitions, powerful men dictated the fates of those beneath their stations, and they all woke up the next day to do it all again.