Daggerfall: Prince Lhotun's Missing Brother

                                       Castle Sentinel


 Dear Kral BlackHaven,

     You do not know me but I know you. I know that you were
 shipwrecked. I know that you are trying to dispel the ghost
 of King Lisandus. If you want, I can tell you what I know,
 but I need your help in return.
     If you want to talk, my name is Prince Lhotun and I live
 in Sentinel at Samaruik, which is usually called Castle
 Sentinel. I hope that we can meet soon.


 	Yours truly,
 
 			Lhotun,
		 Prince of Sentinel

Welcome to Sentinel, Kral. I guess
 you must have received my letter. I know some things
 about Lysandus and why he might be haunting Daggerfall,
 but before I tell you, you have to promise to do
 something for me first. Is that all right?
	

Dear Kral,

 If you are interested in learning the truth,
 about prince Arthago, meet me at
 (some tavern) in (some town) of Sentinel.
 
		 (unsigned)

Kral BlackHaven? Shhh. I would prefer that
 nobody sees me talking with you. It has come
 to our attention that the Underking is being
 wrongly accused of abducting prince
 Arthago. Before you judge, check into
 (a nearby crypt). I'll mark it on your
 map. Who am I? Just call me a loyal
 servant. Now move away before anyone
 gets suspicious. Go on, scram.
	

23 Morning Star 3E 400
 (Crypt's Name)
 
 Two days I was sealed within this crypt without food or
 water. I do not know whether hunger or poor health or
 one of the creatures who share this dank hole with me
 will kill me first -- I only know that I will soon be
 dead, and not even my bones with remain. My hope is that
 in the years that come, this letter will be read and the
 sad story of _brother_, Prince of Sentinel will be told.
 
 I am fifteen years old at the time of this writing, and
 have been plagued with bad health for most of my life,
 to the frustration of my hearty parents. The finest
 healers and apothecaries in western Tamriel have labored
 over my every cough and fever, but while they could save
 my life time and time again, they could not improve my
 sickly constitution. In retrospect, I received little
 real affection from the king and queen, embarrassed as
 they were about begetting such a cripple as the heir of
 the kingdom. I cannot say I missed the love; I received
 much attention from the doctors, priests, and herbalists
 constantly at court. Certainly I was not to be the sort
 of warrior that King Cameron was, but one of my dearest
 friends, a priest of Stendarr said that I might be the
 first scholar-king in the history of Sentinel.
 
 My younger sister Aubk-i was the true favorite of my
 parents: athletic, beautiful, and charming. It is hard to
 think of an uncomplimentary word for her. I am resigned
 to my imminent death, and yet, I would like to see her
 once again. For six years, Aubk-i and I were the only
 children of Sentinel. Eight years ago, the queen had a
 boy child and named him Greklith, after the ancient
 Redguard word for B King. Few speak that tongue
 any longer, but all the scholars and nobles of Hammerfell
 understood. And Greklith is a B boy indeed -- I have
 never so much as seen him cough. The Queen's next child,
 born only a year after Greklith, had an even more ominous
 birthname -- Lhotun. Second Boy. Perhaps had I been less
 sheltered, more suspicious by nature, I might have read
 into these nominations. Lhotun and Greklith are common
 enough names in our family, I reasoned. Now I know that
 even then, I was disinherited -- even if it was
 not official yet.

 For several months before Lhotun's birth and over three
 years afterward, I was in the throes of a very serious
 fever. The doctors despaired of me, but somehow and very,
 very gradually, I recovered. For the first time, and the
 last, I read an expression on my father, the King's face
 that was not indifference. It was disgust.
 
 That was a fortnight ago. Three nights ago, I was seized
 by men I had never seen while I was having a walk. My
 nursemaid stood by watching placidly as I was gagged
 and tied and thrown roughly into a sack. I do not know
 how long they rode with me, but I was eventually left
 here. When I finally freed myself from my bonds, I found
 that I was alone. My wanders have gotten me nowhere.
 This place is filled with undead creatures that prevent
 me from finding any exit.
 
 I have no hope left, but no fear either. A few regrets.
 Perhaps had I studied magic instead of history and
 science I could free myself of this place. One of my
 tutors told the story of the Underking, how he had
 placed his lifeforce in the body of a powerful being
 and had thus conquered all Tamriel long, long ago.
 Had I only had the strength of a more powerful body
 like that.

 But I did not study magic. I studied history, so I
 leave this letter -- not to revenge myself, but as
 an historic document.