Released: 11.11.2022

As I stood today at the top of the White-Gold Tower, cursing at the skies, scathing the gods who have forsaken me... I look down and see your armies ravage our homeland with fire and sword. For what? Have I not held Cyrodiil's best interest in my heart? Have I not been the paragon this land needs? Yet Cyrodiil rejects me. But you, Attrebus! You reject Cyrodiil! And it is my duty as the Potentate to protect her from your traitorous yoke, even in the face of death.

While I ruminate in my tent, looking over my battleplans... I relish the noise of my fellow countryman, their laughter and the merry wartime songs they share over the fire. As my army marches on the Rumare, my soldiers, nay, heroes! They all chant my name: Attrebus! Attrebus Snake-Bane! End of the Potentate! I can't help but swell up with pride. It almost makes me giddy so many men are willing to live and die for my righteous cause.

Caius the Just, Viscount of Nikel, as you know it was never intended for Cyrodiil to be ruled by that highlander Attrebus, and you shall demonstrate why. We trust you to protect the Rumare and the status-quo. Your duty is to prevent another upstart from claiming the Ruby Throne, thus until a Dragonborn presents themselves. On my authority as the Grand Chancellor of the Elder Council, and with its utmost support, I proclaim you Lord Protector of the Heartlands.

I, the ever-watchful Count of Cheydinhal, my ambition is great and my gaze falls upon the Ruby Throne, for I shall stand behind it. Unlike the endless fools that dare claim it, I alone know better. To have it for myself? Bah! Even a Colovian farmer knows the life of an Emperor is short and miserable, my name will be remembered as many others will fade over the years, may these be Imperial Warlords, Elven usurpers or even the savages of the Reach.

Svatr the Honorbound, or so the skalds of Solitude call him, a sour joke if I ever heard one. To think he had the audacity not only to secede from Skyrim, but declare himself Freydis' equal! It is not every day that you meet a Nord with such a bendable sense of honor. Surely, he can't believe his realm will survive long. I would bet off my last Drake that his realm wouldn't exist by the end of Frostfall.

I, Yashnag, Chief of Clan Yal, experienced the razing of Orsinium first hand. Orc-Father, curse the Bretons that defiled my home, Lord of the Betrayed, aid me! For I lead my people in this new and foreign land where enemies attempt to hinder my every move. Do not forsake us, not ever again. If we are to fail here, there shall be none to take after us or to carry your legacy...