If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Aerion let out a soft, genuine laugh, bending down to pick up his fallen quill. "No, Jenassa," Aerion smiled, turning away from the now dormant Word Wall, the power of the ancient dragons resting comfortably in his throat. "The magic did not affect my mind. It merely enlightened it. Come. Our work here is done."
He paused, looking at the journal in his hands, and a sudden, highly amusing thought struck him. The Dragonstone was gone. He had it secured in his spatial inventory. But what if, despite his intervention, the actual, destined Dragonborn of this era eventually made their way down into this crypt?
They would probably fight through group of bandits deciding to use this place, encounter the dead Draugr, the dead giant spider and it's kids, and finally the body of the Overlord, only to find inside the open steel coffin absolutely nothing. It would be entirely demoralizing.
It reminded him sharply of his first playthrough of the game, specifically the quest for the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. He remembered the sheer, unadulterated frustration of fighting through the sprawling depths of Ustengrav, only to find a condescending, arrogant note left behind by Delphine, the paranoid Blade turned innkeeper of Riverwood.
He had hated Delphine for that stunt. He had no desire to inflict that same infuriating, serious tone upon whoever the real hero of this world might be.
But Delphine's underlying idea, leaving a breadcrumb trail for the hero to follow, was actually quite sound. He could definitely steal that concept.
"Hold that thought, Jenassa," Aerion murmured, his smile widening into a playful smirk.
He flipped Arvel's journal open to a blank page near the center, pressed the parchment against the cold stone of the sarcophagus, and dipped his quill into the small glass inkwell.
With swift, elegant Altmer penmanship, he drafted a message. He wanted it to be informative, completely undeniable, but intentionally slightly absurd so the recipient wouldn't feel overly threatened by a shadowy organization.
To the weary traveler who braved the dead to stand before this wall,
I commend your strength, but I am afraid you are a bit late to the prize. If it is the ancient map of Dragon Burials, the Dragonstone, that you seek, it is currently safe in my possession. I mean you no harm, nor do I wish to play tedious games of cloak and dagger.When you return to civilization, go to the Bannered Mare in the city of Whiterun. Speak to the innkeeper and relay this exact, specific phrase: 'Lupin The Glutton Loves Sweetrolls.'Enjoy a drink, wait by the hearth, and you will be contacted shortly.
— A Friend.
Aerion finished the final flourish, blew gently on the wet ink to dry it, and carefully ripped the page from the binding. He folded it neatly and placed it directly in the center of the crushed steel coffin, weighing it down with a small piece of loose rubble so the cavern drafts wouldn't blow it away.
He hoped that whoever found it would read the ridiculous password, roll their eyes, and feel much more relieved than anxious.
"Alright," Aerion declared, safely storing the inkwell, the quill, and the ruined journal back into his inventory. "Our main objective is complete."
Jenassa walked up beside him, eyeing the folded piece of parchment with deep curiosity, though she knew better than to question her employer's eccentricities. "Is our job here entirely done, Patron? Are we leaving?"
Aerion nodded his head, turning his gaze away from the Word Wall. "Yes. But before we begin the long walk back to the surface, let us gather some actual treasure. I have no intention of leaving this tomb without fully compensating ourselves for the trouble."
"Lead the way," Jenassa agreed readily, a glint of mercantile appreciation in her crimson eyes.
Aerion led Jenassa and Lupin away from the central platform, heading toward a set of narrow stone steps to the left of the Word Wall. The steps curved tightly around the cavern wall, leading up to a raised, shadowy alcove. Built into the stone was a heavy iron lever, thick with cobwebs.
Aerion gripped the lever and hauled it downward. With a deep, groaning grind of rock against rock, a concealed stone panel in the adjacent wall slid open, revealing a hidden, narrow passageway.
They walked through the dark, dusty hall, their boots echoing softly in the enclosed space, until they emerged onto a small, elevated ledge overlooking another section of the subterranean river.
To their right, resting on a lower outcropping of rock completely isolated by a steep drop off, was a makeshift shrine. It consisted of an ancient stone stand decorated with a sun bleached human skull and a few surprisingly preserved, dried mountain flowers. Resting squarely at the bottom right of the stand was a heavy, iron bound wooden chest.
Aerion stopped at the edge of the ledge, assessing the drop. "Wait here," he instructed Jenassa and Lupin. "Keep watch. I will retrieve the contents."
Without waiting for a response, Aerion slid over the edge, dropping down the steep stone embankment. His boots hit the lower outcropping with a heavy thud, his Light Armor and enhanced Agility absorbing the impact easily. He approached the makeshift shrine, kicking aside a few loose bones, and threw open the lid of the chest.
He struck pure, unadulterated gold.
Inside, gleaming brilliantly even in the dim cavern light, were several heavy, rectangular ingots. The system's automatic looting interface sprang to life in his mind's eye as he began to empty the chest.
[Items Acquired: Gold Ingot x5, Silver Ingot x2]
[Items Acquired: Amethyst x4]
[Items Acquired: Potion of Minor Healing x2, Potion of Minor Stamina x2]
[Gold Acquired: 250 Septims]
Aerion absorbed the items directly into his spatial void, watching with immense satisfaction as his digital wealth increased. He could practically feel the physical burden of the heavy metals being shunted into the adjacent dimension, causing his overall capacity limit to strain slightly.
[Inventory Weight Increased by 5.67 KG]
"The chest is cleared!" Aerion called up, brushing the ancient dust from his robes.
He approached the sheer rock face he had just slid down. It was too steep and smooth to climb easily in heavy robes. From the ledge above, Jenassa leaned over, extending her long, leather clad arm. Aerion reached up, grasping her forearm tightly, and with a combined grunt of exertion, the Dark Elf effortlessly hauled him back up onto the main path.
"Thank you," Aerion nodded, adjusting his sleeves.
"Do not mention it. Let us get out of this crypt," Jenassa replied, shivering slightly as the damp chill of the underground river seeped into her bones.
They retraced their steps, passing back through the hidden stone door and returning to the main cavern floor. As they walked past the towering, dark expanse of the Word Wall one final time, a spark of memory flared in Aerion's gamer oriented mind. He stopped dead in his tracks, his golden eyes narrowing as he stared at the cascading waterfall flowing behind the massive stone structure.
"There is one last thing," Aerion murmured, altering his course and walking directly behind the Word Wall.
Tucked away in the darkest, dampest corner behind the monument, completely obscured by shadows and the spray of the waterfall, was a small, reinforced wooden chest. Unlike the others they had found, a heavy iron padlock secured the latch.
Aerion knelt in the damp moss, producing a slender, jagged piece of metal from his inventory. A lockpick.
Jenassa stepped up behind him, peering over his shoulder. "A locked chest behind the altar," she noted, her tone laced with professional interest. "I have tools, Patron. If you lack the delicate touch, I can have that open in ten seconds."
"I appreciate the offer, Jenassa, but I can handle it," Aerion declined smoothly. He currently had exactly four lockpicks in his inventory, and he was determined to master the skill himself.
He inserted the thin piece of metal into the rusted keyhole, applying slight rotational pressure with his left hand while trying to find the sweet spot with his right. The ancient, rusted tumblers inside the lock were incredibly stiff and completely unforgiving.
Aerion twisted the pick slightly too far to the right.
SNAP.
The brittle metal shattered instantly, the broken half falling uselessly into the dirt.
Jenassa let out a soft, highly amused snort from behind him. Lupin, sensing the frustration, let out a short, questioning whine.
"Patience," Aerion muttered, his pride stinging slightly under the Dark Elf's gaze.
He withdrew a second lockpick from his inventory. He adjusted his grip, closing his eyes to focus entirely on the tactile feedback echoing up the metal shaft. He gently nudged the pins, feeling the subtle grinding of the rust. He found the binding pin, applied pressure, and twisted.
SNAP.
The second lockpick broke with a sharp, mocking ping.
"Would you like me to try now, Patron?" Jenassa asked, a smirk clearly audible in her voice.
"I have it," Aerion insisted stubbornly, drawing his third lockpick. He only had two attempts left.
He slowed his breathing, completely ignoring the freezing spray of the waterfall hitting his neck. He inserted the third pick, applying an incredibly gentle, microscopic amount of torque.
He visualized the internal mechanism, feeling the first tumbler set, then the second. He found the sweet spot, a millimeter of give in the tension cylinder. He twisted his wrist in one smooth, fluid motion.
CLICK.
The heavy iron padlock popped open with a deeply satisfying clatter.
A massive wave of euphoria washed over Aerion as the system aggressively rewarded his stubborn perseverance and his practical, hands on failure.
[Lockpicking Leveled Up to 10... 11... 12... 13... 14... 15... 16... 17!]
[Lockpicking Leveled Up to 18... 19... 20... 21... 22... 23!]
Aerion threw open the lid, letting out a breath of absolute vindication. The loot inside wasn't nearly as spectacular as the previous chest, but it was still highly useful. He found 79 loose septims scattered at the bottom, three faintly glowing Lesser Soul Gems, and a small, corked vial containing a cloudy purple liquid, a Potion of Minor Pickpocketing.
He funneled the items directly into his spatial inventory, the system registering a minor 0.65 KG increase in weight.
"Well done," Jenassa conceded gracefully, though she was clearly still amused by his initial failures. "Now, please tell me we are leaving."
"We are leaving," Aerion confirmed, standing up and abandoning the empty chest to the shadows.
The walk back to the surface was an incredibly long, tedious affair. Because they had systematically slaughtered every living and undead entity on their way down, the sprawling catacombs were entirely devoid of threats. The silence was absolute, broken only by the steady crunch of their boots on stone and the occasional scuttle of a surviving centipede.
They retraced their path through the massive puzzle rooms, stepping over the scorched, decapitated remains of Arvel the Swift and his bandit crew, passing the massive, charred husks of the giant Frostbite Spider and the fried skeevers.
Finally, after what felt like hours of navigating the claustrophobic, winding darkness, they saw the faint, pale light of day bleeding through the cracks of the massive black double doors.
Jenassa pushed the heavy doors open, and the freezing, crisp mountain wind hit them like a physical blow.
The Dark Elf stepped out onto the snowy stone courtyard, tilting her head back to stare up at the gray, overcast sky. She let out a long, heavy sigh that turned into a thick cloud of white mist. "I do not know exactly how many hours we spent buried in that tomb, Patron, but breathing fresh air again is a blessing. Even if it is freezing."
Aerion nodded in profound agreement, stepping out into the snow with Lupin trotting happily at his heels. The physical exertion of the dungeon delve had caught up to them. His stomach gave a low, demanding rumble.
"Before we brave the ride back down the mountain, we refuel," Aerion announced.
He reached into his spatial void and manifested the heavy canvas supply bag. They huddled near the stone walls, shielded from the worst of the wind, and finished the remainder of the roasted meat, the sweet rolls, and the bread. The influx of calories quickly restored their core temperatures and their stamina.
As Jenassa finished her meal, Aerion prepared for their return to civilization. Whiterun was a bustling trade hub, and Belethor, the general goods merchant, was notoriously sharp.
If Aerion walked into his shop and began pulling dozens of loose rings, gems, and heavy ingots out of thin air, it would draw massive, unwanted attention to his dimensional capabilities. He needed to play the part of a normal, encumbered adventurer.
Opening his mental interface, Aerion initiated a massive, targeted withdrawal.
He commanded the system to eject his accumulated wealth. He pulled out the Gold Garnet Rings, the plain Gold Ring, the exquisite Copper and Onyx Circlet, Copper Garnet Necklace, the Silver Rings, the raw Sapphire, Amethysts, and Ruby, and the Silver Garnet Rings. He didn't stop there. He withdrew the five heavy Gold Ingots and the two Silver Ingots he had just looted.
He physically placed all of the jewelry and the heavy metal bars into the bottom of the canvas supply bag, wrapping them securely in the leftover wax cloths to keep them from clinking together.
[Inventory Weight Decreased by 15.0 KG]
He tied the heavy sack securely with a leather cord, hefting the physical weight over his shoulder. "Alright. Let us return to the city."
They descended the massive, snow covered stone steps of the barrow, returning to the cluster of boulders where they had tied their mounts.
The moment Aerion came into view, both Revan and the brown horse perked up dramatically. They tossed their manes, stamped their hooves in the snow, and let out series of loud, joyous whinnies.
Aerion's passive Animal Affinity washed over them, completely eradicating the anxiety of being left alone in the freezing cold. Aerion walked over, patting Revan's thick, muscular neck, the black beast leaning affectionately into the High Elf's touch.
Aerion carefully picked up Lupin, brushing a few stray snowflakes from the fox's cinnamon fur, and tucked him securely into the heavy leather saddlebag.
Jenassa swung herself up onto her brown mount, shaking her head as she watched Revan practically nuzzle Aerion's shoulder. "It still completely fascinates me, Patron," she remarked dryly. "You are a ruthless mage who burns men alive without a second thought, yet every beast we encounter looks at you as if you are the goddess Kyne herself."
Aerion merely offered a small, enigmatic smile, hauling himself into Revan's saddle with practiced ease. "Animals are excellent judges of character, Jenassa. They know I only burn those who deserve it."
With a sharp click of his tongue, Aerion urged Revan forward, leading the way back down the treacherous, winding mountain pass.
The ride down was significantly faster than the ascent. Gravity worked in their favor, and the horses, eager to return to a warm stable, maintained a brisk, steady trot. As they descended, the biting, freezing wind of the high altitudes gradually softened.
The thick, unbroken blankets of white snow began to recede, revealing patches of frozen mud, which soon gave way to the vibrant, humid, earthy greens of the pine forests and the rushing waters of the White River.
Within fifteen minutes of solid riding, they crossed the stone bridge at Riverwood without stopping, bypassing the lumber village entirely. They followed the winding dirt road back toward the central plains, the towering, majestic sight of Whiterun eventually rising over the horizon, perched proudly atop its massive rocky crag.
They rode past the churning water wheel of the Honningbrew Meadery, the sweet smell of fermented honey thick in the afternoon air. They continued past the sprawling, neatly tilled cabbage rows of Pelagia Farm, where Aerion caught a brief glimpse of Torsten Iron-Arm patrolling the perimeter, his heavy warhammer resting easily on his shoulder.
Taking the right fork in the road, they finally arrived at the Whiterun Stables. Skulvar Sable-Hilt eagerly jogged out to meet them, taking the reins of the massive beasts with a wide, appreciative smile, glad to see his incredibly expensive horses returned entirely unharmed.
With Lupin trotting happily at his heels once more, Aerion hoisted the heavy, clinking canvas bag over his shoulder. He and Jenassa proceeded on foot, walking up the sloping cobblestone path toward the city.
They crossed the heavy wooden drawbridge spanning the moat. Despite the escalating civil war raging across the province, Whiterun's absolute neutrality and central location ensured it remained the beating heart of Skyrim's commerce.
The road was choked with activity, heavily laden Khajiit caravans setting up their tents, couriers riding out on urgent business, and traveling merchants pushing carts filled with grain and iron.
They passed unchallenged through the massive, iron reinforced wooden gates, stepping into the chaotic, vibrant noise of the Plains District.
Aerion didn't stop to admire the crowd. He adjusted the heavy canvas bag on his shoulder, his golden eyes locking onto a specific wooden storefront just off the main square. "Come, Jenassa," Aerion instructed smoothly, stepping out of the main flow of traffic. "Our first stop is Belethor's General Goods. It is time to turn this valuables into some septims to increase my capital."
_____________________________
[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 320/320 Stamina: 310/310 Magicka: 450/450 Level: 65
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level MAX/62), Persuasion (Level 71), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 26), One Handed (Level 67), Restoration (Healing) (Level 37), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 23), Archery (Level 72), Alteration (Level 4), Enchanting (Level 19), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 60), Illusion (Level 6), Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Steel Dagger of Minor Souls, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Ancient Nord Bow, Dragonstone, Ancient Nord Battleaxe Of Blaze, & Potion of Minor Pickpocketing
2x Iron Mace, Steel Axe, Steel Greatsword, & Lockpicks
3x Iron Greatsword, Steel Sword, Scroll Of Fireball, Glowing Mushrooms, & Potions of Minor Stamina
4x Potions of Minor Magicka & Spider Eggs
5x Lesser Soul Gem
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 109.07 KG / 455 KG
Septims = 51,727