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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Proventus's eyes went wide with sheer bureaucratic delight. An interest bearing loan to a reliable debtor was a gold mine for the hold's economy. Balgruuf stroked his beard, a wide, highly appreciative smile spreading across his face. He loved a good bargain, and he loved a man who understood how to play the game.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater leaned forward on his massive, intricately carved wooden throne, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. He peered down at the towering High Elf standing at the base of the dais. The sheer audacity of the request hung in the smoky, echoing air of the Great Porch.
Balgruuf let out a low, rumbling hum, his sharp blue eyes searching Aerion's calm, golden features.
"You do realize exactly what it is you are asking for, don't you, Elf?" Balgruuf asked, his voice dropping the casual, weary tone from earlier, replacing it with the sharp, evaluating edge of a seasoned ruler.
"The Tundra Homestead is not just an empty fully furnished stone house. It is a premium parcel of land situated in the heart of my plains. In the right hands, it could become a massive source of agricultural output for the hold. I have half a dozen wealthy Nord families in the Wind District who would love to buy it outright just to use it as a summer retreat."
Balgruuf sat back, gesturing with his wine goblet. "Yet you come before my throne, asking to buy it. And not just buy it, but asking me to allow you to pay for it via a royal loan. A loan with a high interest rate that directly benefits my treasury... an interest rate that you, a notoriously known high elf mage, are not even attempting to negotiate down. Why?"
The Jarl's eyes narrowed in pure, unadulterated suspicion. "In all my years ruling this city, I have never met a merchant who actively refused to haggle for a lower rate. It smells like a trap, Aerion. It smells like a man trying to buy goodwill."
Aerion did not flinch beneath the Jarl's piercing gaze. He maintained his posture of absolute, aristocratic grace, offering a slow, respectful nod of his head.
"You are a highly perceptive ruler, my Jarl, and your instincts are entirely correct," Aerion answered smoothly, his melodic voice carrying a tone of absolute, unflinching honesty. "I am indeed attempting to buy your goodwill. And I am entirely willing to pay a premium interest rate to secure it."
Aerion took a single, measured step forward, engaging the room with his presence. "By accepting a high interest loan, I am demonstrating my long term commitment to this hold. I want to prove to you, and to your advisors, that I am not a transient foreigner looking to exploit your lands and vanish. I intend to pay my debts reliably, month after month, funneling a steady stream of revenue directly into your coffers."
He paused, letting the economic logic sink into Proventus Avenicci's calculating mind before delivering the hook.
"Furthermore," Aerion continued, his golden eyes locking onto Balgruuf's, "I am not negotiating the interest rate because the business plan I have formulated for the Homestead is so profoundly lucrative that the loan payments will be utterly trivial. However, this endeavor requires your explicit, legal permission to operate within your borders. If you grant me this permission, the Homestead will become the most successful, heavily taxed enterprise in the entire hold."
Hearing the absolute, unshakable confidence radiating from the Altmer's words, the heavy tension in the throne room suddenly broke.
Jarl Balgruuf threw his head back and let out a loud, booming, full bellied laugh that echoed violently off the vaulted wooden ceiling. The sound startled several of the idle courtiers standing near the fire pit.
"By the Gods!" Balgruuf chuckled, wiping a stray tear of amusement from his eye. "You certainly do not lack for ambition, Aerion! I will give you that. You stand in the center of my hall and promise me the moon and the stars wrapped in a tax ledger."
Balgruuf leaned forward again, his amusement fading into deep, genuine curiosity. "Well then. What is it? What could possibly make you so confident? I want to know exactly what this mysterious business plan of yours entails. What endeavor requires my royal permission, yet guarantees such overwhelming success that you can pay off a massive royal loan without breaking a sweat?"
Aerion's polite smile vanished, replaced by a mask of strict, paranoid professionalism. He looked up at the Jarl, then cast a slow, deliberate glance over his shoulder at the various minor nobles, bards, and idle sycophants lingering around the Great Porch, pretending not to listen.
"If I may be so bold, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion requested, his voice dropping slightly in volume. "I would humbly request that you order everyone, with the sole exceptions of yourself, Master Proventus, and Lady Irileth, to immediately leave the premises."
The request sent a ripple of absolute shock through the room.
"Why leave?" Aerion continued, projecting his voice just enough for the courtiers to hear the warning. "This idea is entirely unprecedented. It is highly lucrative, and it has never been successfully executed in the history of Tamriel. I refuse to speak of it openly. I do not want an opportunistic noble overhearing my methods and attempting to steal the concept should you decide to deny my petition."
Immediately, loud, highly offended grumbles erupted from the gathered crowd.
"The absolute nerve of this Elf!" Nazeem, the famously arrogant Redguard noble, scoffed loudly from near the fire. "Demanding that the Jarl's trusted citizens be thrown out of their own hall like common beggars!"
"He's probably plotting treason!" another noblewoman hissed.
Balgruuf's curiosity was now entirely piqued. A secret so valuable the Elf was willing to risk insulting the entire court just to protect it? The Jarl's eyes hardened. He slammed his heavy fist down onto the armrest of his wooden throne.
THUD.
The sound was like a thunderclap.
"Silence!" Balgruuf roared, his voice carrying the terrifying, absolute authority of a true Nordic king. He glared down at the complaining nobles with a look of lethal annoyance. "This is my hall, and I will hear what I wish to hear, in whatever company I deem fit! All of you, out! Back to the entrance doors! If I see a single one of you lingering near the pillars trying to eavesdrop, I will have you thrown into the dungeons for the night!"
The Jarl's furious glare was more than enough. The grumbling died instantly in their throats. Thoroughly cowed by their monarch's sudden wrath, Nazeem and the rest of the courtiers quickly turned and practically sprinted down the long hall, retreating all the way back to the heavy entrance doors, entirely out of earshot.
Only Aerion, Jenassa, Lupin, the single Whiterun guard who had escorted them, and the three figures on the dais remained in the vast, echoing space.
Balgruuf settled back into his throne, waving a dismissive hand.
"There. I have done exactly as you asked," Balgruuf stated, his patience visibly wearing thin. "Now, out with it, Elf. My patience is not infinite, and I have humored your theatrics long enough."
Aerion offered a deep, sweeping bow of profound gratitude.
"Thank you, my Jarl," Aerion said smoothly. He straightened up and turned his attention to the bald Imperial Steward standing nervously to the right of the throne.
"Master Proventus," Aerion addressed the bean-counter directly. "As the Steward of this hold, you possess an intimate understanding of the market economy. Tell me, what are the most valuable, highly sought after natural commodities sold within the borders of Skyrim that belong to the giant camps?"
Proventus blinked, thrown slightly off balance by the sudden pop quiz. He adjusted the collar of his fine tunic, his bureaucratic mind rapidly accessing the trade ledgers.
"Well, that is a rather simple question," Proventus answered, his high pitched voice echoing in the quiet hall. "The two most valuable commodities are, without a doubt, mammoth cheese and mammoth ivory. The cheese is considered an incredibly rare, highly pungent delicacy among the affluent nobles of the Empire, fetching exorbitant prices in Solitude. And the ivory tusks... they are highly prized by the Khajiit caravans for intricate carvings, and by alchemists for their incredibly potent, powdered properties."
Proventus frowned, crossing his arms. "But securing those goods is a lethal nightmare. You have to actively slaughter a giant to get them, which usually results in a dozen dead mercenaries. Why do you ask?"
Aerion smiled, a slow, incredibly sharp expression that radiated absolute, terrifying ambition.
"What if I told you," Aerion began, his voice dropping into a mesmerizing, hypnotic cadence, "that during my extensive travels and arcane research across Tamriel, prior to arriving in Skyrim, I discovered a method to bypass the giants entirely?"
He let the words hang in the air for a fraction of a second before delivering the killing blow.
"I have found a way to domesticate the mammoths. Just like the giants do."
The silence that followed was absolute.
For a long moment, the only sound in Dragonsreach was the crackle of the massive fire pit in the center of the room.
Then, Proventus let out a loud, highly undignified scoff of sheer disbelief. Irileth's hand gripped the pommel of her sword so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Jarl Balgruuf sat frozen on his throne, his jaw slightly slack, staring at the High Elf as if Aerion had just sprouted a second head.
"Domestication?" Balgruuf finally managed to speak, his voice a low, incredulous rumble. "You are standing in my hall, claiming you can domesticate towering, beasts of war? You want to turn the Tundra Homestead into a mammoth dairy farm?"
"Precisely, my Jarl," Aerion confirmed without a trace of hesitation.
"Preposterous!" Proventus practically shrieked, waving his parchment in the air. "It is entirely impossible! Over the centuries, dozens of wealthy fools, ambitious beast tamers, and arrogant mages have pitched this exact same idiotic idea to the throne! Do you know what happened to them?"
Proventus pointed an accusing finger at Aerion. "They all failed! Half of them were trampled into paste the moment they tried to put a rope around a mammoth's neck. The other half actually managed to capture a calf, only to watch it starve to death in a matter of weeks because the beasts become so overwhelmed with stress in captivity that they refuse to eat! They are wild, ancient creatures, Elf! They cannot be broken!"
"Proventus is right," Balgruuf agreed, his tone heavy with skepticism. He looked at Aerion with profound disappointment. "I thought you were a man of logic, Aerion. How can you possibly be so certain that your endeavor will be a success, when literally every single person who has attempted it before you has met with horrific failure or death?"
Aerion did not back down. He simply stood taller, his golden aura of absolute confidence flaring to life.
"Because, Jarl Balgruuf, they attempted to break the beasts using mundane ropes, whips, and crude cages," Aerion explained, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "I do not break them. I speak to them."
Aerion raised his right hand, his fingers curling as if grasping an invisible thread. "I have discovered, and subsequently perfected, a highly complex, completely unique weave of Alteration and Illusion magic. A specific harmonic resonance that directly interfaces with the primal consciousness of the beasts. When I project this magic, the mammoths do not see me as a tiny, hostile mortal. They perceive me as an alpha. They are inherently pacified, and they listen to my instructions with the exact same loyalty and docility they afford their giant masters."
Irileth stepped forward, her crimson eyes burning with intense, military suspicion. "I have served in the Morag Tong, and I have studied alongside the greatest mages in Morrowind. I have never heard of such a specialized, highly specific form of beast commanding magic in my entire life."
Aerion met her hostile gaze flawlessly. "Of course you haven't, Lady Irileth. Because I am the one who invented it."
The sheer arrogance of the claim was staggering, yet Aerion delivered it as an undeniable, objective fact.
Before Irileth could demand a demonstration, Aerion turned gracefully and gestured toward his heavily armored bodyguard.
"If you doubt the validity of my claims, or the absolute safety of my methods, you do not need to take my word for it," Aerion stated calmly. "You may ask Jenassa. She is a veteran mercenary, a cynic by trade, and she has absolutely no reason to lie to the Jarl of Whiterun. She has seen my magic firsthand."
All eyes on the dais instantly snapped to the Dark Elf assassin standing three steps behind Aerion.
Jenassa did not flinch under the sudden, intense scrutiny of the ruling monarch. She stepped forward, her posture rigid and completely professional. She looked directly at Irileth, offering a subtle, respectful nod from one Dunmer warrior to another.
"He speaks the absolute truth, my Jarl," Jenassa testified, her gravelly voice echoing clearly in the silent hall. "Just yesterday, we encountered a highly hostile giant encampment in the Pale, known as Blizzard Rest. We were severely outnumbered."
Jenassa paused, ensuring her words carried the necessary weight. "My Patron did not draw a blade. He simply walked directly into the center of the herd. I watched, with my own two eyes, as three fully grown, highly aggressive mammoths instantly ceased their hostilities. They did not attack him. They surrounded him, protecting him from their own giant masters. Furthermore..."
She gestured toward the tiny cinnamon fox currently sitting at Aerion's feet, grooming its tail. "He has utilized this exact same magic to pacify the herd residing at Bleakwind Basin. He successfully merged the two rival herds yesterday afternoon without a single casualty. They follow his commands implicitly. It is not a trick, and it is not an illusion. It is absolute, terrifying control."
The testimony of a hardened mercenary, confirming the impossible, hung heavily in the air.
Aerion didn't give the Jarl time to recover from the shock. He seized the momentum, launching into the grand, sweeping finale of his pitch, engaging the absolute, reality bending limits of his charismatic power.
"Imagine it, my Jarl," Aerion began, his voice weaving a tapestry of overwhelming economic and military dominance. "Imagine a secure, sprawling farmstead right here in the heart of your plains. A farm producing an endless, highly controlled supply of the most valuable luxury goods in the province."
He looked at Proventus. "You will control the absolute monopoly on mammoth cheese and ivory. From the glittering courts of Solitude to the sprawling markets of Riften, every affluent noble and wealthy merchant in Skyrim will be forced to funnel their gold directly through Whiterun to acquire these goods. The trade tariffs alone will double your treasury's income within a year."
Aerion then turned his golden eyes onto the Jarl, zeroing in on Balgruuf's deepest, most agonizing political anxiety.
"But beyond the gold, my Jarl, consider the security," Aerion murmured, his tone turning grave and highly strategic. "The local wildlife, the sabre cats, the massive wolf packs, they will not dare to approach the city or the surrounding farmlands when they smell a concentrated herd of apex predators roaming the Tundra Homestead. Your farmers will sleep soundly."
Aerion took a slow, deliberate step closer to the dais.
"And most importantly," Aerion concluded, his voice dropping to a powerful, resonant whisper. "Consider the geopolitical ramifications. You are desperately trying to maintain Whiterun's neutrality in this bloody civil war. But General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak both covet your city. Eventually, one of them will march an army to your gates to force your hand."
Aerion spread his arms, casting a shadow across the stone floor. "Imagine the absolute terror in the hearts of the Imperial Legion, or the Stormcloak rebels, when they march onto your plains... only to find the walls of Whiterun backed by a private, heavily armored cavalry of beast. They will not dare to attack you. A mammoth farm is not just an economic endeavor, Jarl Balgruuf. It is the ultimate, untouchable deterrent. It will ensure that Whiterun remains free, neutral, and unbroken."
The silence that followed was absolute, suffocating, and profound.
The crackling of the fire pit seemed incredibly loud. Balgruuf stared at the High Elf, his blue eyes wide, his mind reeling under the sheer, staggering magnitude of the vision Aerion had just painted. It was a vision of absolute economic supremacy and untouchable military security.
Deep within Aerion's consciousness, the system acknowledged the flawless, overwhelming execution of psychological manipulation, economic theory, and political leverage.
[Persuasion Leveled Up to 97!]
[Persuasion Leveled Up to 98!]
[Persuasion Leveled Up to 99!]
[Skill Mastery Reached: Persuasion (MAX LEVEL - 100)]
The golden prompt faded. Aerion had reached the absolute pinnacle of mortal charisma.
Balgruuf let out a long, heavy, incredibly ragged breath. He slowly turned his head, looking first at his trembling, starry-eyed Steward, and then at his fiercely paranoid housecarl.
"Well," Balgruuf murmured, his voice thick with awe. "Why in the names of the Nine Divines don't we let him try?"
Balgruuf gestured toward the High Elf. "There is absolutely no financial loss for the hold in this endeavor. He is paying for the land, he is paying the interest on the loan, and he is absorbing all of the risks. If the beasts trample him, we keep the gold and repossess the property. But if he actually succeeds... he has pointed out incredibly reasonable, undeniable benefits for our city."
Proventus Avenicci, his mind entirely consumed by visions of overflowing gold vaults and monopolized trade routes, nodded his head so fast it was a blur. "I... I have absolutely no objections, my Jarl. The economic projections are staggering. Flawless."
Irileth, however, was not entirely swayed by the promise of gold. Her military mind was still calculating the threat matrix.
"I have one major concern, my Jarl," Irileth stated, stepping forward and glaring directly at Aerion. "The Altmer speaks of using these beasts as a deterrent against the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. That is well and good. But what is to stop him from turning that same deterrent against us? What happens if he decides he no longer wishes to pay taxes, and marches a herd of enraged mammoths through the main gates of Whiterun?"
It was a perfectly valid, terrifying point.
Balgruuf nodded his head slowly, acknowledging his housecarl's grim logic. He looked at Aerion, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"A fair point, Irileth," Balgruuf agreed. But then, the Jarl shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips. "However, if Aerion truly harbored such treacherous thoughts... I highly doubt he would have marched into my throne room, asked for my explicit legal permission, and chosen to build his massive army right on my doorstep where we can keep a constant eye on him. If he wanted to destroy us, he would have built his farm deep in the Falkreath forests and marched on us by surprise."
Irileth considered the tactical logic. She looked at Aerion's relaxed, cooperative posture. Slowly, reluctantly, she gave a stiff nod of agreement. "True enough, my Jarl. A spy does not announce his weaponry."
Balgruuf turned his full, absolute attention back to Aerion. He sat up straight, embodying the full authority of the ruling monarch of Whiterun.
"Very well, Aerion," Jarl Balgruuf declared, his voice booming across the empty hall. "You have convinced me. I hereby grant you the royal permission you seek. Your request for a high interest loan is approved, and you are legally authorized to purchase the Tundra Homestead for the explicit purpose of establishing a mammoth farm."
Aerion offered a deep, highly respectful bow, triumph soaring in his chest. "You are a visionary ruler, Jarl Balgruuf. You will not regret this."
"I rarely do," Balgruuf smirked. He raised a finger, establishing his boundaries. "However, there will be strict conditions attached to this decree."
"Name them, my Jarl," Aerion agreed smoothly.
"First," Balgruuf listed, "my court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, will be granted unrestricted access to your property to study these domesticated mammoths up close. He will want to document this 'new magic' of yours for the archives."
"A perfectly reasonable academic request. He is welcome anytime," Aerion nodded.
"Second," Balgruuf continued, his tone turning pure business. "The hold will receive a highly generous, non negotiable fifteen percent cut of all gross profits generated by the sale of cheese and ivory, collected monthly as a specialized operational tax."
"Agreed," Aerion didn't even blink at the tax rate. Fifteen percent of infinite wealth was still infinite wealth.
"And finally," Balgruuf finished, gesturing to his left. "For the absolute safety of my citizens, Irileth will personally oversee the construction and reinforcement of the perimeter defenses around the Tundra Homestead. You will fund the construction, but she will ensure that the walls are built high enough, and strong enough, to ensure that those massive beasts stay inside your property lines."
Aerion met the Dark Elf housecarl's intense glare and offered her a respectful, cooperative smile. "I would welcome her expertise, my Jarl. The safety of the citizens is paramount."
Balgruuf clapped his hands together, the sound echoing loudly. "Then it is settled! Proventus, draw up the loan documents and the property deed immediately. I want this finalized before the sun sets."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 350/350 Stamina: 350/350 Magicka: 500/500
Level: 80
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+1)/Lightning/Frost) (Level 43/92/27), Restoration (Healing/Purify) (Level 63/37), Alteration (Level 22), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning) (Level 37/46), Persuasion (Level MAX), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 33), One Handed (Level 67), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 23), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 34), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 60), & 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, & Golden Staff of Flames
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 / 475 KG
Septims = 52,930