Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

At nine thirty, his advisor, seeing the royal eyes beginning to glaze over with madness, said,
"Your Terrible Majesty surely knows that it is not fashionable to arrive at any ball for at least
an hour after the desired time, yes?"
The Emperor just stared.
[4] THE ASYLUM BALL
At ten thirty, the Emperor called for some food and wine, and sat at his throne, looking at the
open door, eatting. Thirty minutes later, he ordered the orchestra to begin playing. For the
next three hours, they played gaily for the empty, candlelit ballroom.
At one o'clock, the Emperor announced his intention to retire for the evening. My uncle was
one of the warders who assisted His Terrible Majesty up the staircase. Halfway to his room,
Pelagius threw himself on the floor in a hysteria, screaming and laughing, ordering more wine
(my mother was good at this part of the story, rolling her eyes and shreiking, "More wine!
More wine! Wine!"), and, in short, imagining that he was possessed by all the revellers at his
party that never was.
Two days later, he was still not better. He had cut himself and those who tried to grapple him
horribly with the red diamonds of his robe. Eventually it was decided that the Torval asylum
was not equipped to deal with a lunatic of his severity, and he was sent to a more secure
location in Black Marsh. It was only three months later, my uncle heard that the Emperor had
died.
One of my uncle's duties was to clear out the personal property of the inmates after their
death. Being primarily landed nobility, the personal property was often quite extensive.
Several years after the asylum ball, my uncle was called to clear out the apartment of a
duchess whose chief eccentricity was a propensity to pilfer. Kleptomania, I believe it's called.
Locked away in a secret door in her desk, protected by a trap armed with a barbed needle, was
a variety of jewels, piles of gold, and a five large stacks of beautifully engraved invitations
signed in the Emperor's childlike handwriting.
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