Cyrodiil/Lorkhan the Charlatan

"You filthy charlatan!", Donivus yelled from across the dining table, outraged at the notion that Nirn was the shape of a Dragon.

"I have swindled no one, good sir!", the priest yelled back, getting to his feet, angry at the Lord's way of handling his business. "I preach only the word of the Divines! And I should be able to! Both because it is my free mind that allows me to do so, and because the Divine's Law is the Law of the Empire!"

"But what evidence do you have to support your ludicrous claims?", Donivus continued, slamming his scholarly-pale hand down onto the table, with such force that the wine in his glass sloshed about. "The Dwemer wise, by their science, and learned ways, have enough proof to prove otherwise! Nirn is a sphere! In the middle of the Mundus! Surrounded by the other celestial bodies! And you go so far as to mock this! Even to turn others to your belief, by casting veils of shadow over their lives, saying if they do not believe, they will be thrown into the Void-Fires of Oblivion!" He said, catching up with his lungs, left behind at the start of his rant. "And that sir, makes you a charlatan!", he said, slightly wheezing, falling back into his chair.

"I mock not the Religiously-Challenged Dwarves! Nor do I put fear into the hearts of Men and Mer about the Oceans of the Sixteen Principalities!" He said, settling back down into a softer tone. "I roam the countryside of Cyrodiil, telling others of the forces that shape our world; Supermundus and all of its glory. You see, Nirn, the Arena, is a Sphere, but at the same time is also a Dragon, as well as an infinite amount of shapes and sizes."

"Preposterous! It makes no sense for Nirn to be the shape of a Dragon, even if it's also a Sphere", the Lord argued in response, confused more than angry now, settling back into his chair.

"Ah, but this is only your field of reality, your perspective of the world around you, tricking your mind", the priest said smugly, as he turned his head to the side, allowing for one of a Dragon's to grow out from the other side.

The Dragon began to speak, in the tongues of the last Kalpa, only recorded on the scrolls of the last worlds breaking, but perfectly understandable as he spoke it with a mind-accent of thoughts and patterns.

"You mortal, nobleman of your own trapped mind, and limited wisdom, will never have the power of understanding the complexity of the Universe, and never be one with our shared head, for you lord over your own domain, thinking only of what should be yours, and participating in the meaningless squabbles amongst the followers of wants and needs. In truth, you will never understand what is, and isn't yours, what is, and what isn't you, for you are on the outside, and to get here, you must know where they are. They, the awakened ones who dance around on the Tower, seeing what they feel, and feeling what they believe to be them."

The twin headed priest smiled the faces of theater, then departed back through the hole in the floor he had sprung from, that shouldn't have existed, and the Lord continued to eat his dinner sitting down, while also standing aghast at what he had witnessed; for the dreamer, dreams all dreams, while they sleep, when both are awake.