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Wears-Only-Ropes was intrigued. She had spent the day helping the village build two new huts for some newlyweds, and was pleased that her skills had proved useful. But she had told the elders that she really wanted to return to the sea.

They suggested that rather than returning to Cyrodiil, perhaps she would consider working for a group of mer that had been hiring argonians to work for them on an island off the coast, a few miles north of the village. Some of the local argonians had taken a job there and apparently were quite happy with the job based on the mail they'd sent back. While they were under secrecy orders by the mer, they did indicate it involved maritime matters.

"Working for dunmer? But weren't they taking us as slaves just a few generations ago?" she'd asked, but the elders assured her that these were altmer, not dunmer.

That concerned her still, having never been terribly impressed by the distinction, but getting back to the sea was certainly appealing, and if she could do so while still remaining near to Argonia, that would be ideal. Plus, if her employers were less than honest, she could always dip over the side of a vessel and swim back to the Marsh. They couldn't well shackle her in irons and still expect her to help with vessel repairs or navigation after all. She decided she would leave the next day and check it out.

The morning came and with sincere gratitude, she said farewell to the village and struck out northwards with a small pack through the dense jungle of the Black Marsh, following a small path that led to yet another village some few miles away. The journey was not arduous for her, but the path did take some work to get through and she arrived at the next village early in the afternoon.

The people there didn't seem quite so well-disposed towards their new mer neighbors, but they assured her that the group had not established any permanent dwelling in Argonia itself but only on a small island off it's coast. She followed their directions on towards the ocean where the altmer had set up a small recruitment camp.

The sun was setting as she emerged from the jungle and saw the crude camp beyond, though she saw only argonians at first.

"Hello!" she called in Jel. "I understand you might have employment for me?"

Two male argonians turned towards her.

"Welcome!" one said in Common, walking towards her. "Perhaps we do, perhaps not. What is your name?"

"I am known as Wears-Only-Ropes among the other races. My real name..."

"No need. We only go by Common names here. Altmer policy. Same with the language. My name is Far-Seer and this is Pitch-Bucket. Please, wait here. I will summon our superior. He will decide if we can use you or not."

"So, what do you know of ships, Wears-Only-Ropes?" Pitch-Bucket asked while offering her a seat on a tree trunk nearby.

"Oh, a thing or two," she smiled. She didn't want to reveal her real knowledge if she could avoid it. As a low level sailor, she could test the waters to see if she wanted to remain working with these people or not without repercussion. If they knew her real experience, she might be assigned a role that would make that difficult.

"I've worked on a number of fairly large fishing boats."

"Fishing boats. Hmm. Oars and muscle-powered I assume?"

"Oh no. Sails for sure. We used to go pretty far out to sea."

"Did you really? A proper ship then? Not just a hollowed out canoe?"

That made her laugh. "By no means. Hollowed out canoe. No - a real ship. Planking, multiple sails, pitched hull."

The argonian's eye ridges raised at that. "Oh! You really do have some experience. I'm impressed. Most of the locals here... well, you know. They're nice enough, and we have use for strong backs and tails too, but most of them haven't so much as held an oar, you know?"

She nodded.

The one named Far-Seer returned with a female altmer named Culith. They talked well into the evening before she was accepted into the camp where she was assigned a tent for the night.

"You understand," said Far-Seer later after they had eaten dinner, "that this is all very secret."

"Hah!" Wears-Only-Ropes laughed and replied in Jel. "Like anything the altmer do isn't secret! Frankly, so long as I'm not enslaved, I'm game."

"No Jel, Wears-Only-Ropes," Pitch-Bucket said. "Altmer rules."

Far-Seer continued in Common, "No. They're not using slavery at least. But they are altmer. They see you as a slightly intelligent animal. You might as well know that going in."

"Name a race that doesn't," said Far-Seer's bunk mate.

"For that matter, they treat all the other races the same too. They hate everybody," another argonian laughed.

"They don't hate us. They only hate you," snarked a female beside him.

"Do they still use magic?" Wears-Only-Ropes asked. She was beginning to like these sailors.

The others looked to each other before Pitch-Bucket replied. "I think so. They're great navigators but they never so much as look at the stars. They can't! Their ship..."

"Shhh!" Far-Seer hissed. "Not here!"

Pitch-Bucket suddenly looked truly scared and looked around nervously.

"Well, you'll know soon enough. We go back to the island in the morning."

"What, is there a ferry or something?"

Far-Seer smiled. "Or something."

***********************************

She awoke before dawn. She had gotten used to sleeping till well into the morning in the village, but her bunk mate woke her so she wasn't late. She was given a watertight backpack and required to disrobe and store her clothing there, and then she waited in a line with other argonians. While argonians weren't natively bothered by nudity, she had been at sea with other races long enough to feel awkward. The others didn't seem to mind though, so she just tried to keep herself focused.

Then a light grew underwater. It was a sight she would not soon forget, and it seemed somehow ominous. But the others didn't appear concerned, and it stopped some distance offshore. The argonians proceeded to wade into the surf and then swim towards it.

"It's okay, Wears-Only-Ropes. You'll see," Pitch-Bucket assured her as he walked out with her. She followed his tail and swam deeper as the land dropped off rapidly. They kept going down, unexpectedly deeply, until the light was over their heads, then proceeded farther towards it.

As she swam closer, a dark shape began to loom before her from behind the light and she started to understand. Soon she was swimming directly underneath the thing to a small opening in the bottom where her fellow argonians took their turns climbing up into a lit chamber above them. She noted the odd color of the hull that looked vaguely familiar, but before she could place it, it was her turn and she followed Pitch-Bucket up into the belly of the thing. She soon realized what it was she was entering - an underwater ship.

Once within, she passed beneath a strong blast of air which blew the water off of her, though it's suddenness against her bare scales made her jump a little. In the room beyond she saw the other argonians putting their clothes back on.

They were packed into the 'dressing' room as tight as sardines though, and she realized that her embarrassment at being naked in front of others wasn't the only thing that long association with other races and away from Argonia had caused. The touch of bodies on bodies was both disturbing and stimulating at the same time. She got dressed quickly, trying to avoid looking at... anything!

"Quite a ship, don't you think?" Pitch-Bucket smiled. She was uncomfortably aware of his bare thigh against her own, though obviously it didn't bother him.

"It's completely submerged, isn't it?" she asked, eyes wide with sincere awe.

"Yes, it is! I'm sure there's magic involved. It is the altmer after all, but it's still impressive. I've been here 6 months and it's the most incredible ship I've ever seen."

Suddenly Wears-Only-Ropes made the connection. The color of the hull. Underwater ship. She couldn't help the look that came over her face.

"Something wrong?" Pitch-Bucket asked.

She looked at him, her mouth in a grimace of pure rage.

"Wears-Only-Ropes?"

With an effort, she recovered, though her eyes were blazing with heat and she felt like they should be on fire.

"Sorry. A touch of claustrophobia. It's okay, I'm over it already."

"Oh, that won't do. Claustrophobia on the Dominion will disqualify you for sure. If you're sure you're okay, I won't say anything about it. But you could still get a job on the island in Maintenance. Doesn't pay as well, but better than any job you'll find in Argonia I bet.

"No, I'm fine," she lied. "The Dominion? Is that the name of this ship?"

"Yes indeed. The only one of her kind! You'll be proud to work on her I'm sure!"

"I've got a better name for her," she thought to herself, but kept her composure.

"Leviathan."