What is a man’s worth, his past achievements, his present labours, or his ambitions? For most people as soon as they attain one ambition they see another one glittering higher still, but what if your past achievements were so extraordinary that they cannot be outshone? Is then every future ambition dulled by the shadow of your past achievement?

Near the entrance to a small cave I encounter the Dark Elf, Raynor Vanos. He explains proudly that as experts on Dwarven artifacts, he and his sister Kireth were invited by the King himself to survey the Dwarven ruins of Wrothgar. They had arrived at what he believes to be the ruins of Zthenganaz when his adventuresome sister Kireth had either slipped, fell, or jumped into the cave; he seems uncertain as to which. At the sight of the ice wraiths and dwarven automatons roaming the buried ruins, the more bookish Raynor was understandably reluctant to follow.

I was to find Kireth exploring much deeper inside the ruins, she asks that I might steal a Dwemer power core currently being guarded by a particularly large Dwarven centurion she calls ‘the Ztheng Guardian’. Apparently her brother can make use of the power core to create one of his ‘devices’ with which he hopes to impress his scholarly colleagues at either the Mages Guild or Shad Astula, or perhaps both.

I remember Raynor and Kireth were both members of the Coldharbour invasion force. The Mages guild had apparently sought them out for their aid, specifically for their dungeon-delving expertise. They were also members of the Army of Meridia, helping to guard our rear during our final assault upon the Planar Vortex, ensuring we were not flanked by the daedra. Kireth explains that after all the excitement of Coldharbour, they thought coming back to the mundane ruins of Nirn would be boring. But not only did they find their deeds opened up new opportunities for them, “it also gave us an appreciation for the simple things.” She said.

By contrast, after returning from Coldharbour to my modest home in Daggerfall, I was to find no comfort, and no appreciation in ‘the simple things’. Indeed, as the restlessness of my returned soul grew day by day, I felt an abrading need to go somewhere, see something, find something. It turned out all that would fill the empty hole left by an extraordinary ambition fulfilled, was a voracious appetite for more, no matter how dulled and tawdry they seemed. As to my worth? Well we shall see, but an Orc king’s ransom doesn’t sound too unreasonable for my either my achievements, labours, or ambitions.

S.K