A Citizen’s Guide to Sadras Life

By Vathendys Sul

Cultural Historian of the Necrom Institute

Esteemed Fellow of the Eastern Canonry

Dedicated to the people of Kragenmoor, whose dignity endures the turning of every age.

Preface: In Ash and Commerce

To understand House Sadras is to walk a road between trade and tradition, between the ash-heavy slopes of the Valus Ridge and the sweltering plains that border Black Marsh. It is to sip a cup of bluebell tea with a border-trader from Cheydinhal, while listening to the hawkers of saltrice in the Kragenmoor high market. It is to belong to a people of mountain stoicism and city wit, of rustic moors and bustling ports, of quiet honor and outspoken negotiation.

Sadras, in the century since its ascension, has drawn praise and suspicion alike. It is a House born not of ancient conquest, but of pragmatic survival. A House that speaks in coin but thinks in contracts. This guide is not a tribute, nor a condemnation, but an effort to draw the veil from the everyday lives of those who call Sadras home—citizen, stranger, and scholar alike.

Chapter I: The Character of a People

The Sadras Dunmer, even more than their neighbors, are shaped by terrain. Life in the Valus Ridge and the Armun Moors demands self-reliance, hardiness, and wit. From childhood, Sadras folk learn to walk the uneven stones of cliffside paths, to forage heather buds and mountain tubers, and to read a trader’s smile with the same suspicion one reserves for a guar’s hiss.

But for all their caution, the Sadras are not insular. Unlike the Redoran, they value negotiation over force. Unlike the Indoril, they place pragmatism before pageantry. And unlike the Telvanni, they believe in rule by council, not by singular will. This creates a citizenry both adaptable and proud, skeptical of dogma but fiercely loyal to their communities.

Humour is dry, honor is spoken in half-phrases, and generosity is offered in bowls of stew and shared wine, not hollow words. There is little tolerance for arrogance, but great tolerance for ambition, provided it walks with grace.

Chapter II: The Cities of Sadras

Kragenmoor, capital of the House, sits like a stone crown upon the Valus highlands. Its architecture is a curious blend of Hlaalu foundations and Sadras additions—angular rooftops, trade halls reinforced with antler-shaped s, and wide-windowed domes designed to gather light during long mountain dusks. The city breathes with markets, with ink-guilds and tea houses, with stone courtyards warmed by ash lanterns and wrapped in ivy.

Narsis, long the jewel of House Hlaalu, is now governed by Sadras’s vassal House Indarys. While bearing the wear of years and wars, it still glimmers with hints of its mercantile past—vaulted counting-halls, ruined plazas now filled with food-stalls, and the canals that once floated Hlaalu wealth now bearing modest trade vessels under Sadras banners.

Port Narusa, on the Thir River’s southern bend, is dominated by warehouses, auction piers, and the sharp-tongued sailors of House Lambasi. Here, the pulse of Sadras trade beats loudest, importing velvet, smuggled spices, tools, and strange flora from Cyrodiil and Black Marsh alike.

Andrethis, high in the moors, remains a town of small wonders—bluebell farms, ceramic kilns, and a guild of mapmakers whose works now hang even in the Rootspire.

Chapter III: The Shape of Rule

Sadras is governed by a council of vassal families, overseen by the High Ordinant, the ceremonial and executive head of the House. Unlike Redoran’s Archmaster or Indoril’s Alma Rula, the High Ordinant is elected from among the Great Families of Sadras every twenty-five years, or upon death or resignation. They are expected to embody the tripartite virtues of Cunning, Civility, and Concord.

Sadras councils are held in Skorati Hall at Kragenmoor—named for the mythic mountain-beast on their crest—and proceedings are known to be fierce, poetic, and at times, theatrical. A Councilor’s strength lies not in how loudly they speak, but in how well they weave the law to their ends.

It is said that a Sadras dispute may be settled by coin, by contract, or by custom—but never by brute force alone.

Chapter IV: The Blood in the Soil – Agriculture and Economy

Sadras’ economy is a woven tapestry of moorland cultivation, mountain trade, and river-port commerce.

In the Armun Moors, saltrice grows in careful terraces managed by vassal Houses like Uvayn and Dren. Water is channeled through stone canals dating back to Chimeric times, now reinforced by modern engineering brought in from foreign tutors and reclusive Telvanni exiles.

In the Valus Ridge, tea groves thrive—brewed from the high bluebell, the duskfern, and the shadow-willow. The “Kragen Blend” is widely sought after across eastern Tamriel, often steeped with saltrice milk and sold in casks engraved with moth-antler motifs.

Sericulture, or silk-farming, is practiced with reverence in valleys below Kragenmoor. The silk of the Ash-Moth—believed to be a cousin of the legendary Skorati—is spun into robes and tapestries dyed with crushed nightpetals and red ochre.

The Sadras Trading Company (or STC), headquartered in Port Narusa, operates as the economic arm of the House—controlling trade licenses, border tariffs, and even privateer contracts. It is said that if coin moves west of Necrom, it es through Sadras hands at least once.

Chapter V: The Stranger’s Quarter – On Foreigners and Trade

Sadras prides itself not on purity of blood but on the purity of deal. As such, foreigners are tolerated—sometimes even welcomed—so long as they understand their place and offer something in return.

Cyrodiilic traders maintain modest embassies in Kragenmoor. Argonian artisans, though still treated with wary eyes, have begun settling in river-holdings near Narusa, carving stonework or gathering rare marsh roots that fetch high prices in Sadras apothecaries.

House Sadras does not pretend to equality, but it understands that a trade route is more valuable than a border wall. Khajiit silk merchants, Breton vintners, and even Redguard smiths have found a tentative home in Sadras cities—albeit under watchful eyes and strict guild charters.

Chapter VI: On Halls and Hearths – Everyday Life

A Sadras household is an intricate thing. The extended family remains central, with children apprenticed not to their parents, but often to a skilled cousin or elder neighbor chosen by the household matriarch. Inheritance is shared by contract, not merely blood, and disputes are common—so much so that each quarter maintains a Mediator’s Bench, where scribes and priests offer weekly arbitration.

Meals are communal and often centered around stew-pots that simmer throughout the day, topped with dumplings or flatbreads. Skorati stew, made with mountain herbs and fermented goat-meat, is a favored winter meal. Night-crush wine, violet in hue and sharp on the tongue, is sipped at formal dinners, while porters drink the bitter tea of the duskvine to stay alert.

Education is provided by Trade-Court Tutors, traveling instructors hired by wealthier families, or through apprenticeships in Sadras guilds. Even the poorest child is expected to learn at least contract literacy, the ability to read and sign a trade agreement—a necessity in Sadras cities.

Chapter VII: In Ash and Prosperity – The Sadras Ideal

The Sadras ideal is not conquest, but endurance. Not domination, but advantage. The citizen is not judged by their title, but by the craft of their work and the clarity of their signature.

To be Sadras is to believe that no law is without loophole, no contract without a price, and no stranger without potential. It is a House that rose not from bloodline or divine favor, but from the quiet, unrelenting weight of the ledger. And for many, that is power enough.

Afterword: A Final Note from the Author

As one born to the salt-plains of House Dres, I confess a certain iration for the Sadras people. Their wines lack the sweetness of our own, their politics lack the piety—but their cities hum with life, with color, with laughter and lies and every element that makes a House not only survive, but live.

Should you find yourself wandering the streets of Kragenmoor, I suggest a visit to the east market at dusk. There, amid bluebell lanterns and spice-wood fires, you will hear the true heartbeat of Sadras—not in the clamor of coin, but in the quiet pride of a people who have made their home between stone and sky.

Yours in ink and curiosity,

Vathendys Sul

Cultural Historian of the Necrom Institute

Esteemed Fellow of the Eastern Canonry