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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Hulda slapped the counter with a broad palm, a look of immense satisfaction on her face. "Well, look at that! A real merchant's deal struck right here at my bar. Aerion, you're a strange one, but you've got a good heart for an Altmer."
"Also, I've seen a lot of things pass through this inn, but a tusk that clean? That's worth quite the septims at the East Empire Company. Aerion, you're either the luckiest elf in Skyrim or the most dangerous."
Aerion offered a shallow bow. "I prefer to think of myself as a man who recognizes opportunity when he sees it."
Meanwhile, Ysolda turned her head looking at the tusks, still can't believe that she have it now, before turning back to him, her face flushed with excitement. "Aerion, I will teach you everything I know about Speechcraft, honoring our partnership. We can start right now, if you're willing. I don't want to wait another minute to start paying back this debt."
Aerion goes to retook his seat, feeling the weight of the tiday success settling into a comfortable satisfaction. "I am a student of many things, Ysolda. Lead the way."
For the next two hours, the corner of the Bannered Mare became a classroom. Ysolda proved to be an exceptional teacher, her knowledge of human psychology and market dynamics far deeper than her humble appearance suggested. She didn't just talk about "selling", she talked about the "Art of the Pivot."
"You see, Aerion," she explained, her hands moving in small, precise gestures, "most people think Speechcraft is about being loud or clever. It's not. It's about finding the 'silent need.' When you talk to someone like Belethor, you aren't just selling him cheese. You're selling him the relief of not having to worry about his stock for the week. You have to adjust your tone, make him feel like you're doing him a favor, even while you're reaching into his purse."
She had him practice various scenarios, haggling over a broken lantern, persuading a guard to overlook a minor infraction, and even the subtle art of the "implied threat."
Aerion found his Altmer nature helping him here, his natural poise and the inherent authority in his voice made the lessons feel intuitive.
As the lesson progressed, Aerion felt the Fast Skill Leveling working in tandem with the social training, the information crystallized in his mind instantly. He felt the mental pathways of social manipulation expanding.
The information didn't just sit in his mind, it carved pathways into his psyche. He began to understand the rhythm of a conversation, the pauses, the inflections, the way a well timed smile could bridge a gap that logic couldn't.
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to Level 28, 29, 30, 31... 37!]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 15!]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 16!]
By the time the sun reached its zenith, shining through the high windows of the inn, Aerion felt a profound rush of power as the levels washed over him and a profound shift in his awareness. He had gained two new attribute points he decided to hold onto for the moment. Most importantly, he felt... sharper.
He could look at Hulda and see not just an innkeeper, but a woman balancing a dozen conflicting loyalties. He could look at Ysolda and see the blueprint of the merchant empress she would become.
"You're a natural, Aerion," Ysolda said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. "You have a way of making people want to agree with you. It's a rare gift, even among your kind."
"I had an excellent teacher," Aerion replied, inclining his head.
He then turned to the next phase of his plan, his voice dropping into a more private, confidential tone. "Ysolda, our partnership is now official. I will provide you with the resources you need to establish yourself with the Khajiit. In return, I want you to keep your ears to the ground. I want to know about the movement of the caravans, the rumors of the civil war, and any unusual artifacts that find their way into the city. We are going to build something here, Ysolda. Something bigger than just an inn."
Ysolda nodded, her gaze firm and determined. "I understand, Aerion. You've given me the chance of a lifetime. I won't let you down."
Hulda, who had been listening from a distance while serving other customers, walked back over and wiped the counter one last time. "Well, if you two are finished with your 'merchant's secrets,' I suggest you get some rest. Aerion, you look like you've been through a war today, and Ysolda, you have a caravan to find."
Aerion stood up, calling for Lupin, who trotted over with a final, content yip. The fox looked remarkably bloated after his apple and sweet roll, but he seemed happy enough.
"Until tomorrow, Ysolda," Aerion said. "Hulda, thank you for the hospitality."
As he walked back toward the stairs, he checked his status panel one last time. The gold was secure, his persuasion was surging, and his network were forming, a good foundation for his base of power.
The door to his rented room clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the Bannered Mare and leaving Aerion in the blessed, dusty silence of the second floor. He didn't immediately collapse, though every fiber of his being was screaming for rest.
He had business to attend to, the quiet, internal business of self improvement that only he could perceive.
He pulled up his interface, the translucent blue screen hovering in the air before him. Two attribute points sat in his reserve, glowing with potential. Without hesitation, he dumped them both into Magicka.
A sensation like cold, rushing water flooded his veins, starting at the base of his skull and washing out to his fingertips. It wasn't just a number ticking up, it was a physical expansion of his soul's capacity to hold energy. The small headache that had become an small annoyance due to him spamming spells since the giant fight finally evaporated, replaced by a hum of raw power.
[Magicka increased by 20 points. Current Magicka: 290/290]
With the upgrade complete, the adrenaline that had been sustaining him finally drained away, leaving him feeling heavy and hollow. He sat at the edge of the bed, the straw mattress crunching under his weight, and let out a jaw cracking yawn that watered his eyes.
It made sense, in the span of more than 7 to 9 hours, he had coordinated a mammoth rebellion, incinerated two giants, navigated the political minefield of Dragonsreach, and endured a crash course in merchant psychology from Ysolda.
His gamer mind might have been ready for more, but his Altmer body was demanding a shutdown.
"Bedtime, menace," Aerion mumbled.
Lupin, who had been sniffing a suspiciously dark stain on the floorboards, didn't need to be told twice. The fox hopped onto the bed, curled into a tight, cinnamon colored donut against Aerion's leg, and was asleep before his master's head hit the pillow. Aerion followed suit seconds later, the world fading into a much needed oblivion.
When Aerion opened his eyes again, the room had changed. The harsh, bright shafts of midday sun were gone, replaced by the warm, syrupy orange glow of dusk filtering through the wooden shutters.
He lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city outside shifting, the market criers were silent, replaced by the distant laughter of guards changing shifts and the low drone of evening insects.
He sat up and stretched, his spine popping in a satisfying cascade. He felt good. Better than good, he felt recharged, his magicka pool brimming at its new, higher limit.
Lupin was already awake, currently engaged in a fierce battle with a dust bunny near the wardrobe. Seeing Aerion stir, the fox abandoned his prey and trotted over, letting out a demanding yip that translated clearly to 'Food. Now.'
"Yes, yes, I hear you," Aerion groaned, swinging his legs out of bed. "You have the metabolism of a furnace."
He freshened up quickly, splashing some water from the basin onto his face to chase away the last of the sleep, and headed downstairs. Lupin tumbled down the steps after him, a blur of energy that nearly tripped a patron coming up.
The common room of the Bannered Mare was busier now, the air thick with the smell of ale and the boisterous energy of the evening crowd with Mikael's flute serenading.
Aerion navigated through the press of bodies and took a seat at the far end of the counter. Lupin, knowing the drill, settled himself at the foot of the stool, his eyes fixed on the kitchen door with religious intensity.
Hulda bustled over, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked tired but cheerful, her eyes crinkling as she saw him. "Well, look who finally decided to join the living. You look much better, Aerion. That nap did you a world of good, you were looking a bit pale earlier, even for a High Elf."
Aerion offered a small, genuine smile. "The bed was surprisingly comfortable, or perhaps I was just that exhausted. Either way, I am restored." He leaned forward slightly. "And famished. Two bowls of your stew, please, and a bottle of Nord mead."
He reached into his pocket, accessing his inventory with a thought, and pulled out exactly 15septims, sliding the coins across the polished wood.
Hulda swept the coins into her palm with practiced ease. "Coming right up, dearie. Saadia! Two stews and a mead for the mage!"
A moment later, the Redguard woman emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray with effortless grace. She placed the steaming bowls and the bottle in front of him. Aerion took one bowl and carefully placed it on the floor for Lupin, who attacked it with a gusto that suggested he hadn't eaten in weeks, rather than hours.
As Aerion spooned the rich, savory broth into his mouth, chasing it with the sharp, honeyed bite of the mead, he glanced at Hulda. The innkeeper was taking a brief respite, leaning against the back counter.
"Tell me, Hulda," Aerion asked, keeping his tone casual, "have you heard any news from the roads? The Civil War seems to be the only thing on people's lips, but the details are always scarce."
Hulda sighed, a heavy, weary sound. She poured herself a small cup of water and took a sip. "Oh, it's just the usual misery, mostly. Fighting all over the hold borders. They say the Legion and the Stormcloaks are butchering each other evenly at Pale Pass and down in the Rift. It's a stalemate, and a bloody one at that."
She paused, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "But... the Imperial Jarls aren't doing great. The Legion hasn't shown good progress pushing Ulfric and his Stormcloaks back. So, there are rumors."
Aerion paused, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth. "Rumors?"
"Aye," Hulda nodded, leaning in closer. "Travelers from Haafingar say the Emperor himself has lost patience. They say he's sent General Tullius to Skyrim to take command. Rumor has it the man arrived in Solitude just a few days ago to quell the rebellion once and for all."
Aerion slowly lowered his spoon back into the bowl. The ambient noise of the tavern seemed to drop away, replaced by the sudden, deafening ticking of a clock only he could hear.
"General Tullius. Solitude. A few days ago."
Inwardly, his mind raced, connecting the dots of lore he knew so well. If Tullius had just arrived, the timeline was advancing steadily not caring if he is ready or not.
Tullius was the catalyst. He was the one who would organize the Legion to push the Stormcloaks, set the trap at Darkwater Crossing, and capture Ulfric Stormcloak. That capture would lead directly to the cart ride to Helgen.
And Helgen meant Alduin.
The World Eater wasn't a distant threat anymore, he was a looming inevitability. The "tutorial" phase of reality was about to end, and the world was about to catch fire.
Hulda, mistaking his murmurs for some form of recognition, asked. "Yes, General Tullius. Why? Have you heard of him during your travels outside Skyrim? I don't know much about the man myself, just that he's supposed to be important."
Aerion shook himself from his reverie, masking his internal alarm with a calm, thoughtful nod. "I have heard the name, yes. Back in Cyrodiil, he is spoken of with... considerable respect. He is a professional, Hulda. Disciplined, ruthless, and efficient. If he is here, the nature of this war will change." He offered her a reassuring, if deceptive, smile. "Maybe the civil war will end sooner than we think."
Hulda's face brightened with a fragile hope that made Aerion's stomach twist with small guilt before being evaporated by his Altmer side. "Truly? You think so? By the Divines, I hope you're right. If this Tullius can end the fighting, maybe I can finally retire in peace. I'm so tired of worrying about the war reaching my doorstep."
"Let us hope," Aerion said softly, taking a sip of mead to wash down the lie.
In his mind, he apologized to her. 'The war won't end, Hulda. It's going to get interrupted by something far worse. And I need to be ready.'
The news lit a fire under him. He couldn't afford to be passive. He needed resources, he needed gold, and he needed levels. The timeline was moving, and he had to move faster.
He finished his meal with mechanical efficiency, draining the last of the mead. He wiped his mouth, tapped his leg for Lupin to follow, and stood up. "Thank you for the meal, Hulda. I have a few errands to run before the shops close completely."
"Safe travels, Aerion. Don't stay out too late," she called after him.
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 160/160 Stamina: 150/150 Magicka: 290/290 Level: 14 ➝ 16
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 29/30), Persuasion (Level 37), 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)
[Inventory Panel]
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, & Mammoth Tusk
2x Gold Garnet Rings, Gold Ring, & Scroll Of Fireball
3x Silver Garnet Rings, Silver Rings, & Sapphire,
4x Lockpicks, Potions of Minor Magicka, Amethyst, & Giants Toes
6x Potions Of Minor Healing & Ruby
8x Iron Arrows
Weight: 131.5 KG / 375 KG
Septims = 52,561