By Zwinthodurr Roun-dar
Spies walk among us. Across Elsweyr, in every street, in every village, around every campfire—we are watched.
And that is true. So they do.
But there are Others.
Others who watch our every move, who suspect us of "disloyalty," who can report us as unfaithful and treasonous.
Report us? To who? To the officers of the Mane?
Oh, no. Not to Cat-Folk at all.
These watchers report only to the Elves.
Admit it: you have heard their name. But only in whispers. And you dare not repeat it.
They are … the Eyes of the Queen.
The Eyes, who are beholden to no one but the tall and terrible Queen Ayrenn.
Her Eyes see everything, they say. But how, since Elves cannot go everywhere? Because, Khajiit, Elven gold can—and does.
Hush. You know it to be true.
And because you are watched, your tail-dance droops ever-so-slightly, your ears stand a little less proud, and you look over your shoulder a little too often.
Because who can say who has been bought, and who has not? Who might be sending reports about you—and what might they be saying?
Beware, Khajiit. Keep your whiskers alert.
This one is watched. And this one may not be permitted to warn you again.