Elden Root is such a large tree that we can’t mistake it even from the other side of the lake. Huge limbs and roots curve off in every direction, and if we were feeling particularly adventurous, we might even be able to just get into town by climbing one of them. No one feels like doing that today.

In addition to whatever is inside the tree itself, a small city’s worth of tents, carts, and more conventional buildings sprawls around the base of the tree. There’s a Skyshard tucked away behind a bit of ruin near the bridge leading into the city, which I definitely stop to absorb on the way by.

Eran cranes his neck to look up now that we’re close enough to really get a sense of the scale of this thing. “Not to state the obvious, but that is a big tree.”

Amber windows spiral along the trunk, and at the base of the tree stands an archway large enough to admit a ship, provided there were a seafaring vessel sailing around this far from the ocean. The opening dwarfs the various carriages of different types that are resting about its base. At least it’s also wide enough that no one is going to complain about us coming in slowly and staring at everything. Gelur is grinning over my shoulder, just quietly letting us take in the sight.

The ground level of Elden Root is a broad marketplace with a wayshrine standing in the middle up some rough stairs. Remarkably, the place is so big that there are more normal-sized trees growing inside of it and even a small pond. The ceiling arches high overhead, covered with vines and leaves along with orbs of light of some sort giving an ambient glow beyond the sunlight streaming in from the broad doors and the braziers flickering away near each of the stalls.

I wave the others off to explore town, go shopping, or settle in at the inn while do my own errands. We’ll meet up at the Outside Inn later. I’ll need to go up top to see if Queen Ayrenn has arrived yet or if she’s just waiting for me to un-bollocks whatever might be wrong with the entirety of Grahtwood before setting foot here. I really hope there isn’t anything going on here half as annoying as the Veiled Heritance. (I’d better not jinx this.)

I spot an advertisement for couriers and make note of it. I’m probably going to wind up traveling a lot, so I may as well get paid a bit of extra while I’m at it.

Several guild vendors have set up a cluster of stalls just outside the left exit from the tree, and I browse their selection and listen to their dubious claims. This one is a minotaur’s cleaver, they say, and this one was allegedly used to fell a dragon. Here’s an axe suitable for an Alfiq (whatever that is; I don’t ask), and here’s one that would be good for killing vampires. An axe of Dwemer design catches my attention.

“Say, is that Dwemer?” I ask.

“Yep!” says the Bosmer vendor. “Pulled right out of the ruins of someplace whose name I can’t pronounce that starts with an N or something.”

“I feel you on that,” I say. “Maybe that was what really caused them to disappear. They tried to find some vowels.”

The vendor laughs at that, and I purchase the Dwemer axe from her and immediately dub it Dumzy, after an old friend who I liked too much to call ‘Dummy’.

I head up to the second level of the giant tree, and marvel at the fact that it’s still huge and even the second floor is paved with stone, too. And has a forge amid its crafting setup. Long banners in red and blue marked with the symbols of the Mages and Fighters Guilds hang from the ceiling and drape to each side of two enormous doors leading off into different parts of the tree. The third branch, situated between them at the far side of the huge chamber, is adorned with green banners bearing a symbol I don’t recognize, presumably symbolizing Valenwood or the clan of the current king or something. Few places have such literal branching corridors as when you’re talking about Bosmer architecture.

I stop in at the Mages Guild first. I love the windows here. They’re huge (I keep saying everything is huge) and comprised of blue cloudy glass with golden vine motifs running across it around the fancy eye Mages Guild symbol. I wonder if they open? They’d be an excellent landing point for levitating mages or ones riding a flying mount, but I haven’t seen either such thing around here. Nobody in this part of the world seems to want to levitate more than two feet off the ground for some reason.

After taking a look around, I have to grin as I spot a couple of familiar faces, only grinning slightly less at the third familiar face. It’s the mages I met on Khenarthi’s Roost. Including the annoying one, ‘Eel-Kill’. Valaste is here as well, and has finished translating the last book I brought her and has been waiting for someone crazy enough to go into the Shivering Isles for her to come along. I promise her that I’ll get to it once I’ve run some errands and gotten a good night’s sleep. She looks like she could use a good night’s sleep herself, and I’m not shy to tell her so.

“Hey, guys!” I exclaim as I go up to Gathwen and Rurelion (after making sure I’m not interrupting anyone in the middle of delicate rituals or alchemy; that would be bad). “Good to see you again.”

“Neralion!” Gathwen says, smiling as she sees me.

We take a moment to catch up. They’d apparently come straight to Elden Root after Khenarthi’s Roost and have been here since doing research. I’ll consider them fortunate to have missed the debacle that was Auridon.

“You’ve been considerably busier than us,” Gathwen says. “But then, we’ve been considerably safer than you, here, so I suppose that’s a trade-off.”

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I chuckle. “I’ve got a little project here I was hoping you guys could help me with. About teleportation. Do you think wayshrines might be able to be used for teleportation?”

Ealcil scoffs at the notion (I hadn’t even realized he was bothering to listen). “I am quite certain that they could, but why would you bother? A needless limitation. Just learn to teleport the proper way.”

“Well, sure, I’d love to, but seeing as I barely know how to cast a few basic spells and I do not currently have a century to spare, I’m either going to need to learn a shortcut or hire a portal mage. Are you volunteering, then?”

Ealcil makes a disgusted noise. “No, I am much too busy to play chauffeur for adventurers. I will acknowledge that limitations and reliance upon enchanted items and anchor points can make magic much easier for a dabbler such as yourself.”

A dizzying discussion ensues between Ealcil and Rurelion, which I have great difficulty in following, regarding the Aetherial energy my body has absorbed and connections I’ve made with the wayshrines. I exchange a look with Gathwen, and it seems the level of arcane terminology is beyond even her, too.

“We’ll need to run some experiments,” Ealcil tells me ominously.

“Of course,” I say smoothly. “What will this entail?”

“Let’s go down to the wayshrine,” Ealcil says. “I shall need to measure some thaumic readings.”

Ealcil and I head down to the ground floor, with Rurelion and Gathwen going along to contribute storms of jargon and to ensure that Ealcil does not do anything unwise. I’m wary about Ealcil doing anything unwise, too, but at least he knows how to teleport, unlike Merormo.

At least Rurelion has the good sense to not bother to explain to Ealcil why I have Aedric essence in my body. Fortunately, Ealcil’s pride and curiosity are working in my favor this time. He sees this as simply a puzzle to be solved, and it’s a bonus that it’s one that will ensure that I solve problems so that he doesn’t need to worry about them. They’ve heard about what happened in Firsthold and would find it highly inconvenient if the city they happen to be in were to be invaded by Daedra.

After taking some readings and having another discussion I can’t follow, they instruct me to put a hand on the wayshrine and start making suggestions on what to do. At first nothing seems to work, but right as I think I’m making progress, I’m finding their continuing discussions to be rather distracting.

“Pardon me,” I say. “Could you be quiet for a moment, please? I think I’ve got something here but I need to focus.”

At least they’re not even offended. I suppose being mages, they’re used to not wanting to be interrupted when doing something that requires focus.

I close my eyes and reach out, trying to follow the instructions I was given, and then something clicks. (Not literally. There is no actual clicking sound.) In my mind, I get a sense of a network of lights like stars, and I realize that each of them is a wayshrine that I’ve lit and established a connection with. Reaching further, I think I might even be able to identify which one is where. Like this closest one must be the wayshrine next Brackenleaf. Reaching further…

The air shifts, and I suddenly feel a breeze on my nethers. Yep, I’ve just teleported naked. Of course. Taking a look around, this does appear to be the wayshrine I was thinking of, and I can see the lake from here. I try to repeat what I just did so that I can get back to where my clothes are. Now that I know what I’m looking for, it doesn’t take nearly as much blindly groping around, although it’s clearly going to take some practice. The ground floor of Elden Root reappears, and I’m standing on top of a pile of clothes and my pack and axe.

“Well,” I say, pulling my pants back on. “Let’s call that ‘it works, but…’.” I snicker softly.

“Yes, that’s the most basic of beginner errors with translocation magic,” Ealcil says. “You will need to extend the bounded field around your body, although you should at least feel fortunate that you are able to teleport your entire body. It is inconvenient when incompetent apprentices leave behind pieces of themselves. So which method wound up working for you?”

I make no comment on those unfortunate apprentices (I hadn’t even known that was possible) and simply explain what I did as best as I can. Ealcil’s response is to go ‘ah, yes’ and then repeat what I just told him in excessive levels of arcane jargon. Now that the puzzle has been solved to his satisfaction, however, he’s ready to head back upstairs to the Guildhall, and dismisses me to getting advice on ‘extending my bounded field’ from someone whose time is less important than his. Fortunately, Gathwen is able to give me some pointers on that. She might be less of an expert, but she’s also less of a s’wit.

It will be something to play with more later. For the moment, I go to check out that branch with the green banners. And it’s full of well-dressed mer standing around and a guy on a throne. Queen Ayrenn is not currently in the audience chamber, but I do recognize Prince Naemon and Vicereeve Pelidil, who are totally my favorite people and I’m utterly thrilled to see them here.

King Camoran Aeradan (not Aeradon, Aeredin, or any of my other attempts at spelling it) is seated on a throne made of vines and dotted with flowers, and is wearing an crown of antlers. He radiates every image of a wood elven lord. I ignore the Prince and Vicereeve and approach the King instead. He calls me bold for approaching and asks if I have something he can pretend he summoned me for so his petitioners don’t think I just cut the line.

“Queen Ayrenn sent me,” I say. “I specialize in solving problems either by hitting them until they stop moving or by talking at them until they capitulate. Do you have problems that need to be solved?”

“Ah, that was kind of her!” the King says, and then starts telling me about some problems regarding the construction of a Khajiit embassy. This is probably a problem that can be solved by finding the right person to talk at until they capitulate. He then tells me to start by asking Prince Naemon about it.

I groan softly. “Is that necessary?”

“Eh, he acts like he has a graht-oak lodged up his arse, but it’s his people who are failing to fulfill their promises in the matter.”

“It’s just that the last I spoke with him, I’d just killed his wife for opening Oblivion gates to invade a city,” I say.

“Ah,” the King says. (Am I supposed to call him King Camoran or Aeradan?) “I can see how that would be tense. Still, he’d best get past that—it’s not like you didn’t have good cause, by Y’ffre! If nothing else, though, I’m sure he’d be happy to pass the blame onto whichever of his underlings is slightly more directly at fault here than him.”

Prince Naemon is definitely not happy to see me. His eyes have been following me around the room as if trying to keep tabs on what I’m doing here, and he gives a small sigh of resignation when he sees me finally approaching him. After finding out what I’m here for, he surrenders the name ‘Ambassador Tarinwe’ to get me to go away.

Seeing as the situation has been at a standstill for months, I gauge this to be not particularly urgent and resolve to deal with it after I’ve taken care of some other things in town first. Because at the moment, I’d rather jump through a portal to the Shivering Isles than deal with high elves probably being racist again.