Unsent Afflicted Letter Locations . Removed from the game , but still present in three cells , named : The unused cells in which this book resides can be entered on the PC by typing into the console one of the following commands , depending on which cell is desired : Content . Beloved Duphraime - I know you thought me a fool not to leave Cul Aloue with you and the others , but I couldn ' t abandon our children to the wasting sickness . Whatever horrible fates you may have guessed for us , however , are probably far from the truth of what has happened . I send this letter in hopes that it will sooth [ sic ] a worried mind . Maybe a week after you left with the rest of the healthy folk , I was patrolling the low wall by foot . Even our poor Kelter had taken the illness and was unfit to ride . I was praying that no bandits would be foolish enough to risk infection for our trifling goods . Then , outlined against the pyre - light of the day ' s lost , I saw a long figure marching towards the village . The stranger was a Summerset elf who introduced himself as Orchendor , and with him came a change in destiny for the folk of Cul Aloue . Orchendor walked among our people without fear of the wasting sickness that had taken root in the marrow of every remaining villager , myself included by now . For days he ate and spoke with us , learning each name . He calmed the folk in a way my lying prayers could not . Spirits became cheerful that days before awaited bleakly in the death ' s parlor . Orchendor assembled us then , crowding the villagers into Cullete ' s barn , she being the most badly stricken at that time , and unable to move without being carried by Orchendor himself . The good elf then gave us tidings that none could have guessed . He claimed that the sickness was not a curse on our village , as we were sure it had been . Rather , Orchendor insisted , it was a boon , a beacon which drew him to us . He told us that he served the Daedric Prince Peryite . I know what you ' re thinking - we burned Dina and Lucas not three years before , after all . Cul Aloue would never suffer the heresies of a Daedra Worship per in our midst . Yet , we did . Not only that , but we raptly heard what he had to say . Maybe you think we were too sick , too weak , but we weren ' t . Orchendor apologized for our dead , saying he came with all haste to Cul Aloue . None had perished since his arrival , though several seemed on the brink in the hours before . He wanted to take us to a new home , a place where we could live out our days in worship of Peryite as his chosen . As his Afflicted . Nobody refused . Some were carried in carts and litters , but all made the trek with Orchendor across the border into Skyrim , leaving Cul Aloue an empty , haunted place . We have since lived in refuge , the ruins of an ancient Dwarven city . Other Afflicted live with us , many with similar tales to that of Cul Aloue , bound together by our divine infection . Though you could say we are all sick , the effects of the sickness no longer diminish us , but give us strength . We heal ourselves with liquors and tinctures that other men would call poison . Orchendor keeps us safe here , by the blessing of our Prince Peryite . I am now an Apostle of the Afflicted , tasked to disseminate the teachings of Peryite to our Afflicted . And so , sweet Duphraime , the spirit of Cul Aloue lives on . I will never blame you for abandoning us that day , now long past . In truth , I am saddened that you were not likewise chosen by Peryite to awake with these oozing lungs . Peryite preserve you , dear husband , and know your children are well .