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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
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?"
"The proof of your bounty, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion replied, holding the ears up so the light of the fire pit could catch the leathery texture. "Bleakwind Basin is clear. The giants that troubled your roads are dead."
A sudden, sharp silence fell over the surrounding court. Proventus adjusted his spectacles, leaning forward with a look of profound doubt. "The giants? Both of them? Alone? In a day?" he asked, his voice thin and skeptical. "That's... that's a feat for a group of soldiers or mages, not a single traveling mage with a pet fox."
Irileth stepped forward, her red eyes narrowing as she studied Aerion's face for any sign of a lie. "A bold claim, Aerion. Giant ears aren't exactly unique, and plenty of scavengers find them after a real battle. How do we know you didn't just stumble upon a corpse left by some passing mercenaries?"
Aerion met her gaze without blinking, his expression firm. "With respect, Jarl Balgruuf, if my word and these trophies are not enough, you need only summon your court wizard. Farengar can easily tell if these were harvested today and if the residual magicka on them matches my own signature. Furthermore, send your guards to the basin; the bodies are fresh, and I imagine they'll be hard to miss."
[Persuasion Leveled Up to Level 23!]
[Persuasion Leveled Up to Level 24!]
The internal notifications flickered across his vision, a silent confirmation of his growing influence. Balgruuf watched him for a long moment, a slow grin spreading across his face. "A fair point. Proventus, go fetch Farengar. Let's put this to rest."
The steward hurried off toward the wizard's study, returning a few moments later with Farengar Secret Fire in tow. The wizard was mumbling to himself, his robes slightly singed at the hem, looking every bit the distracted academic.
"Honestly, Proventus, I was right in the middle of a delicate infusion with Frost Salts, oh!" He stopped abruptly as he noticed Aerion standing there. "It's you! Aerion, the high elf with the curious fox."
Balgruuf gestured to the ears. "Our friend here claims to have cleared Bleakwind Basin. Tell us, Farengar, are these genuine ears of the giants?"
Farengar's eyes lit up with professional curiosity. He practically scurried over to Aerion, taking the ears with a level of excitement that was slightly disturbing. He turned them over in his hands, sniffing them, poking the thick skin, and even closing his eyes to feel for the magical resonance.
"Extraordinary... yes, definitely giants. And the cellular structure is still remarkably intact... harvested within the last two hours, I'd say. And the burn patterns... yes, these were taken down by high intensity lightning and concentrated fire. Quite a surgical application of destruction magic, actually."
He looked up at Aerion with newfound respect. "You didn't just kill them, you dismantled them. Very impressive work, Aerion."
Farengar turned back to the Jarl. "It's true, my lord. The ears are real, and the magic used to take them down is certainly consistent with what the abilities a wizard high elf such as Aerion should have."
Balgruuf stood up from his throne, the heavy fur of his cloak shifting. "Then it is settled, I don't know how you done it but it is done. You have done what many Nords and elves alike would not dare to do alone, Aerion. You have removed a significant threat to our farmers and travelers, and for that, you have my gratitude."
He looked over at his steward. "Proventus, pay the man. A promise made is a promise kept."
Proventus let out a small, resigned sigh, nodding his head. "Yes, my Jarl." He walked over to his small table positioned to the left of the throne, fumbling with a locked wooden box before producing a modest leather pouch that jinked with the sound of coin.
He walked back and pressed it into Aerion's hand. "Four hundred septims, as agreed on the paper. A substantial sum for a day's work."
Aerion accepted the pouch, his fingers feeling the weight, before puting it to his pocket which actually entered into his inventory.
To his "Gamer Soul," three hundred septims was almost laughable compared to the several thousand he had just secured from the chests and the merchant, but to the "Altmer Resident," it was a mark of official standing. "Thank you, Proventus. And thank you, Jarl Balgruuf."
Balgruuf sat back down, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You've proven yourself worthy of the trust I've placed in you, Aerion. In these times, with the civil war brewing ing Skyrim and bandits become more daring, Whiterun needs individuals who can act when others hesitate. Rest well, elf. I suspect this will not be the last time I have need of your particular talents."
Aerion bowed his head respectfully. "I am at your service, my Jarl."
After he said that, Lupin gave a final, satisfied yip toward the throne, to the amusement of the people currently present other than Aerion.
With the weight of the bounty gold cooling in his pocket and the Jarl's favor tucked firmly into his reputation, Aerion felt the sharp, restless energy of his gamer soul demanding progress, so he turned his attention toward the court wizard who was still eyeing the giant ears with a mixture of professional envy and scholarly lust.
Farengar Secret Fire was a man who clearly preferred the company of dusty scrolls and glowing soul gems to the rowdy politics of the mead hall, and Aerion knew that the wizard's laboratory was exactly where he needed to be if he wanted to start turning his raw power into something more refined.
"Master Farengar," Aerion began, his voice smooth and carrying that inherent Altmer cadence that made even a simple request sound like a formal proposition, "I find myself with several enchanted items that I no longer have a direct use for. I was wondering if I might borrow your enchanting table for a short time to disenchant them and perhaps study the foundational weaves within it."
Farengar's head snapped up, his eyes widening with an almost frantic level of excitement that made him look less like a court dignitary and more like a child being offered a rare sweet.
"Borrow the table? By the gods, yes! Absolutely! But on one condition, my friend, you must allow me to pick your brain while you work. I have spent years studying the fundamental differences between Nordic runic traditions and the refined magical theories of the Summerset Isles, and I have dozens of questions regarding Altmeri research into resonant frequencies and magicka to matter conversion that I've never been able to resolve without a proper peer."
Aerion offered a shallow, respectful nod, though internally he was already bracing for the headache that usually accompanied "academic peer" discussions in this world. "I will answer what I can to the best of my memory and ability," he replied, thinking of the fragments of the 'former' Aerion's life that drifted through his mind like half remembered dreams.
With a final, polite bow toward Jarl Balgruuf, the silent and ever watchful Irileth, and the perpetually stressed Proventus, Aerion turned to leave the throne room. As he walked away, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, he could feel Irileth's gaze boring into his spine, a look that wasn't exactly a threat but was far from the casual dismissal she gave most visitors.
She was a Housecarl, a warrior who lived on intuition, and she clearly sensed that the Altmer walking away from her was far more dangerous than his much more humble self suggested.
Lupin seeing that trotted closely behind Aerion, his claws clicking rhythmically against the stone as they transitioned from the grand mead hall into the more secluded wing of the palace.
They reached Farengar's study, and the sight was a nostalgic punch to Aerion's senses, it looked remarkably like the game yet felt infinitely more alive.
The room was dominated by a large map shelf crammed with yellowed parchment, and two long wooden tables had been pushed together to form a triangular workstation covered in the chaotic clutter of a working mage, scattered scrolls, gemstone stands holding shards of soul gems, and a shelf weighed down by bubbling potions and glass vials.
Behind the tables, anchored against the cold stone walls, sat the two pillars of the arcane craft, the Alchemy Lab, with its small burners and mortar, and the Enchanting Table, which sat like an altar of blackened wood and glowing blue runes that pulsed with a low, thrumming sound.
"Come, come! Don't be shy," Farengar urged, scurrying behind his desk and immediately unrolling several scrolls of thick parchment while reaching for a fresh quill. "Make yourself at home. My assistant is... well, I don't actually have an assistant, so consider yourself a guest of the highest order. Below the Jarl of course."
Lupin didn't need a second invitation. The fox immediately began weaving through the legs of the tables, his nose twitching as he investigated the various strange smells of dried Nirnroot and powdered bone, his tail brushing against a stack of books with a daring curiosity that would have made a librarian faint.
Aerion joined Farengar at the table, and the wizard wasted no time, launching into a barrage of questions about the "Summerset Paradox" and the structural integrity of Expert order illusion spells.
Aerion closed his eyes for a second, letting the memories of the original Aerion surface. He spoke of the way the sun touched towers of Alinor vibrated during the summer solstice and how the Altmer taught their children to weave magicka like silk rather than hammer it like iron.
He answered the technical questions with a blend of scholarly memory and his own "Gamer Soul" logic, providing Farengar with just enough insight to keep the man scribbling furiously in his journal.
As the discussion reached a natural lull, Farengar finally looked up, blinking as if he'd forgotten why they were there in the first place. "Ah, right! I'm sorry, I get carried away. You were going to show me some disenchanting, weren't you? What items have you brought back from your travels?"
Aerion reached into his pocket, though in reality, he was pulling the items from his system interface, and produced the Ring of Minor Destruction and the Necklace of Stamina.
He laid them on the table, the silver and gold glinting under the magical light of the room. "I recovered these from a group of bandits at Halted Stream Camp," Aerion explained. "They are simple things, but the enchantments are stable and well crafted."
Farengar leaned in, his nose nearly touching the ring. "Standard imperial work, I see. Very common, yes, but I am intensely curious to see how an Altmer approaches the unraveling of the weave. Most male Nords mages I know just bash the item against the table until the gem shatters and the knowledge enters their thick skulls, but you... you likely have a more... elegant method."
Aerion let out a quiet sigh, feeling the weight of the wizard's intense, middle aged curiosity. His gamer side just wanted to click the "Disenchant" button and be done with it, but his Altmer side felt the need to perform for the sake of his reputation. He moved to the Enchanting Table, placing his hands over the items.
He didn't just break the items, he felt for the threads of magicka that bound the "Destruction" effect to the metal of the ring. He visualized the spell as a knot of blue fire, and with a gentle, focused pull of his own magicka, he began to untie it.
The ring began to glow with a brilliant, freezing light, and then, with a sound like a single glass flute note, the silver crumbled into fine dust, leaving only the knowledge of the enchantment behind.
In that moment, a notification flared in the corner of his eye, making him pause.
[Skill Unlocked: Enchanting (Level 1)!]
[Description: The spiritual equivalent of putting a sticker on a lunchbox to tell everyone it's yours, except the sticker makes the lunchbox explode on impact. This is the art of convincing inanimate objects that they are much more interesting than they actually are.]
[Due to your Fast Skill Levelling, Enchanting has increased to Level 9!]]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 14!]
[+1 Attribute Point Received!]
Aerion ignored the slightly goofy system description, focusing instead on the flood of new information. He could feel the "language" of the items now, he understood how to trap a soul and how to bind a concept like "stamina" or "fire" into a piece of jewelry.
Thanks to his Altmer nature and his Fast Magic Mastery, the knowledge didn't just sit in his head, it integrated itself into his very soul.
Farengar was mesmerized, his quill moving so fast it was a blur as he recorded every flicker of Aerion's fingers. "Incredible... the resonance was almost perfectly silent. No wasted energy at all. You truly are a master of the basics, Aerion."
Aerion stepped back, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "I've finished for today. I learned what I needed from those two."
"And?" Farengar asked, leaning forward over his journal. "What did you see in the weave?"
"Basic foundational techniques," Aerion lied smoothly, not wanting to explain the system notifications. "Nothing that would needed too be written in the books, though the stability of the stamina necklace was better than I expected. I have other items stored at the Bannered Mare, perhaps I'll bring them by tomorrow if you're still interested."
"Always! You are welcome here anytime, my friend," Farengar said, beaming. "Truly, this has been the most stimulating morning I've had in Whiterun for a decade."
Just as the wizard was about to ask another question about the properties of soul gems, a loud clatter followed by the sharp shatter of glass echoed from the corner of the room. Both men turned their heads in unison.
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 160/160 Stamina: 140/140 Magicka: 270/270 Level: 13 ➝ 14
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 29/30), Persuasion (Level 24), 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), & Enchanting (Level 9) - NEW
[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, 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: 131.5 KG / 370 KG
Septims = 52,756