(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The chest also contained a set of steel armor and a couple of well worn steel swords, likely the gear of some Nord warriors who hadn't possessed a living mammoth shield when they came seeking glory. Aerion looked at the metal for a moment, his gamer instinct screaming at him to "loot everything," but his practical High Elven mind intervened.
The armor was heavy, bulky, and wouldn't fetch nearly enough gold at a merchant to justify the space it would take or the mental clutter of carrying low tier gear that he wouldn't even wear. He left the steel where it was, deciding that his limited inventory capacity was better spent on more valuable resources.
Leaving the chest, he moved toward the giant campfire where three large hide pouches hung from a rack. They were filled with the pungent, earthy smelling mammoth cheese that the giants were famous for.
In the game world, these bowls had always appeared massive and unwieldy, but in this physical reality, the pouches were more practical, smaller than he expected, yet still substantial enough to be a high value commodity. He took the pouches down, tying the drawstrings tight and tossing them into his inventory one by one, making his inventory Weight increased by 3 KG in total.
Finally, his eyes landed on two massive mammoth tusks lying near the fire pit. These were the true prizes of the camp's physical loot, heavy and beautifully ivory white. He gripped them firmly, feeling the smooth, cold texture of the bone before stowing them away, increasing the weight of his inventory by 10 KG.
With the camp stripped of its most valuable treasures, Aerion turned back to the animals. Lupin and the three mammoths were still engaged in their strange "conversation," a series of rumbles and yips that seemed to convey a surprising amount of information.
Aerion whistled, calling the four of them over. They approached him with a synchronized movement that was almost eerie, the mammoths' footsteps vibrating through the soles of his boots.
"Listen to me," Aerion said, his voice firm but laced with the calming energy of his Animal Affinity. He looked at the three mammoths, their large, soulful eyes fixed on him with unwavering loyalty.
"For now, all of you stay here. This basin is your home, and you are to live as you always have. However, you are no longer just cattle for giants. I want you to become aggressive, if hunters come, or those who wish to hurt you, you fight back. If there are too many, you run. Keep yourselves safe until I have a proper plan for you."
A wave of sadness seemed to ripple through the herd, they let out low, mournful moans, their trunks drooping as they realized they weren't coming with him back to the stone city their big brother told them about.
They clearly wanted to stay within the aura of peace he provided, but eventually, they huffed in collective agreement, bowing their heads once more to show they would obey his command.
"Good," Aerion said with a small, encouraging smile.
He gave them one last nod of farewell before turning to the grisly part of the business. He walked back to the corpses of the giants, the smell of burnt flesh and ozone still hanging in the air. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out the Poacher's Axe.
With a clinical detachment, he set to work, needing proof for the bounty. He hacked off the massive, leathery toes of the giants, four in total, and took one ear from each as additional confirmation.
The toes weren't just tokens of victory, they were potent alchemy ingredients that would fetch a high price. His inventory weight increased by 4 KG total from the Giant Toes.
He wiped the blood from the axe on the grass before stowing it away, though he kept the ears in his bare hands for a moment, looking at them. They were macabre, but in this world, they were his currency of status.
"Let's go, Lupin," he said, turning back toward the path. "We have a merchant to meet and a Jarl to impress."
The walk back to Whiterun was a peaceful contrast to the violence of the morning. The sun was fully up now, casting long shadows across the green and gold plains of the tundra.
Aerion felt a strange sense of equilibrium, his High Elven body felt light and energized by the surge in Magicka, and his gamer soul was content with the efficiency of the run.
As they neared the Whiterun Stables, he reached into his inventory and manifested the three pouches of mammoth cheese. He didn't want to just carry them in his system, he wanted to be seen with them. He began to drag them alongside him, a physical representation of his triumph over the giants.
They entered the city through the main gates, the guards giving him wide eyed looks as they saw the giant ears in his hand and the rare cheese he was hauling.
Aerion made a beeline for the market district, heading straight for Belethor's General Goods. He had never actually met the merchant before, but he knew form the game that man are a very... opportunistic one.
He entered the shop, the bell chiming above the door. Belethor looked up from a ledger, his eyes immediately darting to the pouches Aerion was dragging.
"Good morning, traveler!" Belethor greeted, his voice dripping with that oily, practiced charm. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure. I'm Belethor, and I'm sure I have something you need. But more importantly... what is that delightful smell?"
"Mammoth cheese," Aerion said, dropping the pouches on the counter with a heavy thud. "Three whole pouches, fresh from Bleakwind Basin. I'm looking for a fair price, master merchant. I trust you know the value of such a rare delicacy in a city like this."
Belethor's eyes widened, his greed warring with his desire to lowball the newcomer. He opened one of the pouches, inhaling the sharp scent. "It is indeed... exquisite items. But three big pouches at once? The market might be flooded, you see. I could perhaps offer you five hundred septims for the lot."
Aerion didn't even blink. He leaned in slightly, his Altmer height and his recent victory giving him a natural, commanding presence. "Let's be serious, Belethor. We both know the court at Dragonsreach alone would pay double that just to have this served at the Jarl's next feast. I'm not a desperate hunter, I'm a businessman. One thousand septims, or I'll simply take it up the hill and sell it to Proventus myself."
[Persuasion Leveled Up to Level 21!]
[Persuasion Leveled Up to Level 22!]
Belethor hesitated, looking at the calm, golden skinned high elf mage and then back at the cheese. He knew he was being beaten at his own game, but the profit margin was still too high to pass up. "A thousand? You drive a hard bargain for a stranger! Fine, fine. A thousand septims it is. I can't say no to such quality."
Belethor gave a pouch of septims, where Aerion then counted out the gold, and he watched his balance rise as he put it inside inventory while Belethor though he put it inside his pocket. He thanked the merchant with a polite, if cold, nod and left the shop, leaving a slightly stunned Belethor behind.
With the cheese sold and his persuasion sharpened, Aerion and Lupin began the final climb toward Dragonsreach.
The steep, winding stone steps of the Cloud District felt like a victory lap for Aerion, though his lungs, still adjusting to the thin, mountain thinned air of Skyrim, burned slightly with the exertion.
Behind him, the city of Whiterun sprawled out like a scale model made of timber and thatch, the morning sun finally cresting the peaks and washing the valley in a brilliant, golden light.
In his right hand, the two giant ears felt heavy and rubbery, their thick, grey skin cooling into a leathery texture that was increasingly unpleasant to touch, yet they remained the most valuable objects he carried, at least in terms of political capital.
Lupin trotted beside him, his tail swaying with a rhythmic confidence that suggested the fox felt every bit as entitled to the palace as his master.
They reached the massive, iron reinforced wooden doors of Dragonsreach, where the two Whiterun guards on duty stood like statues in their scale mail and yellow surcoats.
As Aerion approached, the guards' eyes moved from his pale, golden face to the fox at his heels, and then, inevitably, to the grizzly trophies swinging from his fingers.
The guard on the left, a burly Nord with a mustache thick enough to hide a dagger, stepped forward with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes widening in a mixture of disgust and disbelief.
"Woah, woah! Slow down there, elf," he grunted, the wooden tip of his pike lowering just enough to block the threshold. "What in Oblivion are you carrying? You can't just go strolling into the Jarl's hall bringing... whatever those rotting slabs are inside."
Aerion didn't flinch, his expression remaining as cool and impassive as a frozen lake. "These 'slabs' are the proof of a contract fulfilled," he said, his voice carrying that melodic but sharp Altmer resonance. "Bleakwind Basin has been cleared of its giants. I believe the Jarl's steward is expecting me."
The guard on the right leaned in, his nose wrinkling as the faint, metallic scent of giant blood reached him. "Don't tell me... those are the ears? From the giants in the basin?"
He looked at his partner, his bravado momentarily replaced by a flicker of genuine shock. "Nobody's cleared that camp in years without a full squad of guards, and even then, we usually lose a few men to those clubs."
Aerion merely nodded, his silence doing more to unnerve them than any boast could. The two guards exchanged a long, meaningful look, the skepticism in their eyes warring with the undeniable physical evidence dangling before them.
"Aye, fine," the first guard muttered, stepping back and gesturing for his partner to help heave the heavy doors open. "But listen here, mage, keep that blood mess from dirtying the floor. If I see a single red drop on that stone, I'll have you down on your knees with a scrub brush cleaning it up yourself, Jarl's guest or not."
Aerion didn't bother responding to the petty threat, he was well acquainted with the casual prejudice that Nords held for the altmers, and he simply swept past them into the echoing warmth of the Great Hall.
Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the frigid morning air. The massive central fire pit roared with life, the scent of roasting venison and seasoned wood smoke filling the vaulted space.
Near the entrance, a silver haired Nord woman in a simple linen dress was pushing a heavy mop across the stone tiles, her movements methodical and weary. She had clearly just finished cleaning the area when Aerion stepped into her path.
"Excuse me," Aerion said, stopping beside her bucket.
The maid looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, her face initially showing the polite neutrality of a servant. "Yes, master elf? I've just finished this section, if you could—" Her words died in her throat as her gaze fell upon the giant ears. She let out a small, sharp shriek, her hand flying to her mouth as she stumbled back a half step.
"May I borrow your bucket for a moment?" Aerion asked, his tone so matter of fact that it only seemed to confuse her further.
"F-for what?" she stammered, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and fascination.
Aerion didn't wait for a formal agreement. He knelt slightly and lowered the ears into the grey, soapy water of the mop bucket.
The water clouded instantly with a dark, swirling crimson as he swished the trophies around, rinsing away the congealed blood and the bits of dirt from the basin floor. It was a macabre sight, cleaning the parts of a titan in a maid's wash water, but Aerion's logic was purely pragmatic, it was better to present clean water than dripping blood to the Jarl.
When he was satisfied, he lifted the ears out, the water cascading off the thick flesh. "Do you have a cloth?" he asked, looking up at the bewildered woman.
Mechanically, as if in a trance, she nodded her head and reached into her apron, handed him a dry rag.
Aerion took it, meticulously drying the ears until they were no longer a dripping mess, then handed the cloth back with a polite nod. "Thank you. Now your floors shall remain pristine."
He turned and began the long walk toward the far end of the hall, leaving the maid standing there, mop in hand, staring at her now blood stained bucket with a look of utter bewilderment. Lupin followed at his heels, his nose twitching at the smell of the feast being prepared in the kitchen, but he remained focused on Aerion as they approached the raised dais of the throne.
The Great Hall of Dragonsreach was designed to intimidate, with its towering wooden pillars and the massive dragon skull of Numinex mounted high above the Jarl's seat.
As Aerion passed between the two long dining tables, he felt the weight of several dozen eyes upon him. Guards standing at intervals along the walls shifted their stance, their whispers carrying through the vast space.
At the end of the hall, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater sat on his throne, leaning back with a look of heavy lidded weariness, his chin resting on his hand.
To his left stood Irileth, her dark elven features sharp and guarded, her hand never far from the hilt of her twin swords. To the right was Proventus Avenicci, the steward, clutching a stack of ledgers where he was probably reporting something to Balgruuf now.
Balgruuf looked up as Aerion came to a halt below the steps, his eyebrows rising in recognition. "Ah, the Altmer returns," the Jarl said, his voice booming softly in the hall. "And you've brought... quite the interesting accessory. Tell me, Aerion, what is it you hold so tightly?"
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 160/160 Stamina: 140/140 Magicka: 270/270 Level: 13
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 29/30), Persuasion (Level 22), Smithing (Level 9), Sneak (Level 16), One Handed (Level 7), Restoration (Healing) (Level 7), Two Handed (Level 8), Lockpicking (Level 9), Archery (Level 7), & Alteration (Level 4)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Pouch = 315 Septims
1x Steel Dagger, Iron Shield, Long Bow, Potions of Minor Stamina, Philter of Lockpicking, Steel Warhammer, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Copper and Onyx Circlet, Steel Mace, Ring of Minor Destruction, Necklace of Stamina, Helmet of Magicka, Cuirass of Minor Health, Steel Sword of Embers, & Dwarven Bow of Paralysis.
2x Gold Garnet Rings, Gold Ring, & Scroll Of Fireball
3x Silver Garnet Rings, Silver Rings, Sapphire, & Mammoth Tusk
4x Lockpicks, Potions of Minor Magicka, Amethyst, & Giants Toes
6x Potions Of Minor Healing & Ruby
8x Iron Arrows
Weight: 132.5 KG / 370 KG
Septims = 52,356