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Anchorite's Log

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With the arrival of the Chancellor, a crusty Nibenese politician named Abnur Tharn, the atmosphere at the Castle of the King of Worms has taken a decidedly more amusing turn. He barks his pathetic orders and expects us to pander to his every whim. When we ignore him he storms about like an infant, shouting "Do you know who I am?" and "Mannimarco will hear of this!" The King of Worms thinks him a ineffectual buffoon. I have heard him say as much, myself.

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With the arrival of the Chancellor, a crusty Nibenese politician named Abnur Tharn, the atmosphere at the Castle of the King of Worms has taken a decidedly more amusing turn. He barks his pathetic orders and expects us to pander to his every whim. When we ignore him he storms about like an infant, shouting "Do you know who I am?" and "Mannimarco will hear of this!" The King of Worms thinks him a ineffectual buffoon. I have heard him say as much, myself. But Tharn is no idiot. I feel certain he suspects that he has outlived his usefulness. With his daughter on the Ruby Throne and Lord Mannimarco filling her head with delusions of grandeur, Tharn's power isn't worth the breath it takes to declare it. The Empress Regent is easily manipulated with trinkets, silks, and rare delicacies. She has little fondness for her father and, to my knowledge, hasn't even expressed curiosity regarding his absence. And despite his years of political experience in the Imperial Court, the old man isn't half the manipulator that Mannimarco has proven to be. Tharn's greatest miscalculation is that he believes he still has value here. In the grand scheme of things, we are all expendable, he most of all. All of the power in Cyrodiil means nothing to the Lord of Brutality and Domination. But Tharn's impotent tantrums remain a source of great mirth. I imagine I will tire of them eventually. On that day, I will pour a glass of fine wine and take enjoyment watching him thrash about, as his soul is torn from his body, like so many thousands before him.