Good mer, you know why to don the Veil. You know in your heart the danger facing the Isles. We have been betrayed.
Our leaders now bend knee to a wastrel child. A Queen of cats and midgets. An adventurer given the throne by an accident of blood. A wench more fit for a cup house than a throne room.
These are our lands! The High Elf, the legacy of the Aldmeri people, now must sit idle beneath the blooms. We must watch as flea-bitten mongrels from the steppes cavort in public like mer. We must listen as the animal tongue of the wood is spoken in our streets.
We did not seek, nor did we provoke, this assault on our way of life. We did not expect, nor did we invite this confrontation. The true measure of a people's strength is how they rise to master the moment when it comes upon them.
Master the moment, mer of Auridon. Don the Veil! Rise up against this Queen, against her Dominion. And retake the Summerset Isles!