Pinion answers with a bitter smile. "Nine countries in Tamriel, in which dwell some twelve races, and once were more."
"It is a great mystery what happened to the Dwemer," Carrick interjects. "The Sload are secretive people and make neither war nor trade for the most part; the Centaurs are not officially recognized as an intelligent race, which is foolish when the damnable mane-apes, the Imga, are; but there are those who say the Ayleids, who built the White-Gold Tower, still live as underworld hermits or bodyless spirits in the forests of Cyrodiil. And that's not even counting the immortals who take more or less active roles in things -- the Daedra and their pets, the Nine Divines, the now-fallen Tribunal... Oh, and of course there are the tribes of vampires, who are surprisingly organized and spread throughout the nine countries and all the races, and the werefolk, who have no tribes but I believe run some sort of underground social group..."
"All of them are somehow at war with one another and have been since time's beginning," Pinion continues, "either diplomatically, as are the races of men, or literally, such as my own people and the Khajiit. I don't dare try to explain how each country is ruled, for each has its own methods of choosing its leaders and whatnot. Suffice it to say that Cyrodiil's Emperor is the reatest authority in Tamriel, who more or less keeps everyone else in check. But the throne has been empty for many years, and war between all nine countries and even within them is increasing, even as the world itself seeks the next heir."
"So yes," Carrick flashes her a grin. "Our world is a little complicated."