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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"Now," Aerion murmured, rolling up the sleeves of his dark, immaculate robes. "Let us prepare the visual evidence of our incredibly grueling, hard fought expedition." He opened his digital inventory interface, selecting the heaviest, most mundane items he had looted over the past two days. With a series of soft, popping sounds, items began to physically materialize from the void, dropping heavily into the open sacks.
"Let us organize the haul," Aerion murmured, rolling up the sleeves of his pristine dark robes. "We will separate the bulk armaments from the high value magical assets and precious metals. It will make the process vastly more efficient."
Jenassa stood by, holding the heavy burlap sacks open as Aerion began to systematically draw items from his dimensional void, materializing them into the physical world.
He started with the heavy, mundane weapons and ancient armors, the items he specifically intended to liquidate for raw, liquid currency at Warmaiden's. He pulled out a standard Steel Dagger, a heavy Iron Shield, a Steel Mace, a Steel Warhammer, and a tightly strung Ancient Nord Bow.
He didn't stop there. He then put two Iron Maces, two Steel Axes, two massive Steel Greatswords, and two heavy, horned Ancient Nord Helmets. Following that, he put three Iron Greatswords, three standard Steel Swords, and a pair of heavy Ancient Nord Boots.
"The sheer volume of iron you carry is terrifying, Patron," Jenassa noted, wincing slightly as the heavy metal clashed violently inside the burlap.
"It is merely a fraction," Aerion replied smoothly.
Next, he turned his attention to the second pair of sacks, designating them for the vastly more valuable, delicate items he intended to use as direct collateral or barter with the Jarl's court.
He carefully organize the enchanted and magical armaments, the burning Ancient Nord Battleaxe of Blaze, the flawlessly crafted Elven Shield, and the glowing, golden Staff of Magelight. He laid them gently against the burlap to ensure the enchantments didn't inadvertently trigger.
Then came the alchemical supplies and the raw wealth. He organized a Weak Potion of Paralysis, a Potion of Minor Pickpocketing, and two vials of Weak Magicka Poison. He stacked his recovered scrolls neatly beside them, two master tier Scrolls of Guardian Circle and three highly volatile Scrolls of Fireball.
Finally, the sheer, staggering volume of precious gems, jewelry, and refined ingots cascaded from his hands into the fabric. He deposited a Golden Emerald Circlet, a Copper Sapphire Circlet, and a Silver Garnet Circlet. He added a single flawless Emerald and a Sapphire.
He then organized the multiples, two Silver Amethyst Rings, two Silver Necklaces, two Gold Emerald Rings, and two Gold Garnet Necklaces. He followed this with three Silver Ruby Rings, three Gold Ruby Rings, three Amethysts, three refined Silver Ingots, three Quicksilver Ingots, and three Silver Garnet Necklaces.
To finish the massive hoard, he pulled out four heavy Iron Ingots, four Gold Ingots, and four Garnets, capping it all off with five heavy Dwarven Metal Ingots and five blood red Rubies.
As the final ruby dropped into the sack, Aerion felt a massive, profound physical lightening of his dimensional void as he looked at the notification.
[Inventory Weight Decreased by 52.0 KG]
Over fifty kilograms of solid metal, ancient wood, and precious stone had been successfully transferred into the physical world.
"That should paint a sufficiently harrowing picture of our adventures," Aerion stated, brushing a layer of ancient crypt dust from his hands.
Jenassa knelt in the golden grass, producing a length of thick, sturdy linen cord from her belt. She expertly gathered the tops of the bulging burlap sacks, tying them off with tight, secure mercenary knots that would not slip under the massive weight.
"The big items are secured in the left sacks, the smaller valuables and magical assets in the right," Jenassa reported, pulling the final knot taut. "It will be much easier for you to identify exactly which sack contains the specific item you are looking for when we begin bartering."
"Excellent foresight, Jenassa," Aerion praised.
Together, they hauled the incredibly heavy sacks over to their waiting mounts. Revan let out a low, slightly indignant snort as Aerion hefted over twenty five kilograms of dead weight over his black flanks, securing the sacks tightly behind the saddle. Jenassa mirrored the action with her sturdy bay horse, strapping the remaining two sacks to the rear harnesses.
With the cargo secured, Aerion scooped up Lupin, depositing the fox safely into the front saddlebag, away from the heavy, clanking metal.
They mounted their horses, the leather saddles creaking loudly under the newly added physical strain, and guided the animals out of the tree line, reconnecting with the main, cobblestone trade road leading directly toward the towering gates of Whiterun.
The short ride was peaceful, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the tundra plains.
When they reached the Whiterun Stables just outside the city walls, the area was bustling with the usual afternoon traffic of departing merchant caravans and arriving travelers. Skulvar Sable-Hilt, the veteran stablemaster, was currently brushing down a massive, dappled gray draft horse near the water troughs.
Aerion and Jenassa rode into the perimeter, pulling their heavily burdened mounts to a halt.
"Whoa there," Skulvar greeted, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve as he walked over. His eyes immediately darted to the massive, bulging, dirty burlap sacks strapped to the horses' flanks. "By Kyne's breath, Elf. Looks like you've been hauling the entire mountain down with you. Need a hand with that?"
"Indeed we do, Skulvar," Aerion smiled, dropping smoothly from the saddle. Jenassa followed suit.
Together, the three of them untied the heavy sacks, hauling them down from the horses and setting them with a loud, metallic clatter onto the packed dirt of the stable yard. Several passing travelers and a nearby Khajiit caravan guard turned their heads, their eyes widening at the unmistakable, heavy sound of vast quantities of weapons and coin.
Aerion reached into his satchel, seamlessly accessing his digital inventory. He mentally isolated a stack of septims and withdrew them into the physical world.
He walked over to the stablemaster, extending his hand.
"For your excellent continued service, Skulvar," Aerion offered smoothly. "Please, ensure Revan and Jenassa's mount receive an extra ration of your finest oats tonight, and perhaps a thorough brushing. They have borne a heavy burden across the Pale."
Skulvar held out his calloused hand, entirely expecting the standard two or three septim tip for daily boarding. When Aerion dropped fifty solid gold septims into his palm, the stablemaster nearly dropped the brush he was holding.
"Fifty septims?!" Skulvar gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at the small fortune in his hand. He looked up at the towering High Elf, a massive, incredibly genuine grin splitting his weathered face. "By the Eight, elf! Thank you! You have my absolute word, I will treat these magnificent beasts better than I treat my own kin! They'll have the warmest stalls and the sweetest apples in the hold!"
"I expect nothing less," Aerion nodded graciously.
With the horses safely secured in luxury boarding, Aerion and Jenassa hoisted the heavy sacks over their shoulders. Despite the massive weight, Aerion's maximized, 400 point physical Stamina stat made the burden feel no heavier than a light rucksack.
They walked away from the stables, ascending the wide, sweeping stone steps that led up to the imposing main gates of Whiterun.
As they approached the heavy wooden doors, the two Whiterun guards stationed at the entrance immediately crossed their halberds, blocking the path.
"Halt," the lead guard commanded, his tone strictly professional but his eyes lingering entirely on the massive, bulging, dirt stained sacks resting on their shoulders. "State your business in the city, and declare the contents of your cargo. We can't have unmarked contraband or Skooma smuggling within the walls."
Aerion didn't take offense. He simply offered a polite, weary smile, projecting the image of an exhausted adventurer returning from a long, brutal expedition.
"We are returning citizens, gentlemen," Aerion replied smoothly. "And as for the cargo... we have spent the last several days excavating the ancient, frozen ruins of the Pale. We are simply bringing our hard-earned spoils to market."
Aerion gently lowered the sack containing the bulk weapons to the cobblestones. He untied the thick linen cord and pulled the burlap wide open for the guards to inspect.
The two guards leaned forward, peering into the sack. Their jaws practically hit the floor.
Staring back at them was a massive, chaotic tangle of rusted iron, polished steel, and the unmistakable, deeply archaic horned plating of Ancient Nord armor, all smelling heavily of crypt dust, dried black blood, and ozone. It looked as though Aerion and Jenassa had single-handedly slaughtered an entire battalion of the undead.
"By Ysmir's beard..." the second guard muttered, his eyes wide. He looked from the terrifying haul of weaponry to the immaculate, pristine dark robes of the High Elf, utterly perplexed by the contrast. "You... you two pulled all of this out of the ice?"
"It was a rather spirited excavation," Aerion agreed dryly. "Are we cleared for entry, or must I catalog every single iron dagger for the city ledgers?"
The lead guard rapidly shook his head, stepping back and pulling his halberd away. "No, no. You are cleared. You can pass. Just... keep the weapons sheathed, and take them straight to the merchants."
"Of course," Aerion nodded.
He hauled the sack back over his shoulder, and the heavy wooden doors of Whiterun were pulled open, welcoming them back into the warmth and safety of civilization.
They stepped into the bustling Plains District, the smell of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and hot iron washing over them.
"First stop," Aerion murmured, adjusting the weight on his shoulder. "The Warmaiden."
They turned immediately to their right, walking past the flowing waters of the city aqueduct, and approached the Warmaiden's forge. The rhythmic, deafening clang of a blacksmith's hammer echoed loudly in the street. Adrianne Avenicci was outside, her face smeared with soot, entirely focused on hammering a glowing steel ingot upon the massive anvil, completely oblivious to their arrival.
Aerion and Jenassa bypassed the outdoor forge and pushed open the wooden door of the shop, entering the warm, heavily weapon-scented interior.
Standing behind the main wooden counter, organizing a display of steel maces, was Adrianne's massive, heavily muscled husband, Ulfberth War-Bear.
"Welcome to Warmaiden's!" Ulfberth boomed, his voice incredibly loud and cheerful in the confined space. He looked up, his eyes immediately dropping to the massive sacks they were carrying. "Well now! It looks like you two have had quite the productive week out in the wilds! What can I help you with today? Looking to buy, or looking to unload?"
"The latter, my friend," Aerion smiled, stepping up to the counter and dropping the first heavy sack of bulk weapons onto the floor with a loud, metallic crash. "I would like to sell a rather substantial quantity of armaments. Several weapons, a few shields, and a handful of armor pieces we recovered from a Nordic crypt."
Ulfberth rubbed his thick beard, looking down at the burlap sack with a professional, discerning eye. "I'm always in the market for raw steel and iron, friend. But I'll have to look at their condition before we agree on a final price. Rusted, brittle weapons are only good for the smelter, and I can't pay premium coin for scrap."
"A perfectly reasonable stipulation," Aerion agreed.
He untied the sack and began to pull the mundane weapons out one by one, laying them carefully across the long wooden counter. He ensured that he only pulled the standard, non enchanted items, leaving the burning battleaxe, the Staff of Magelight, and the Elven Shield hidden deep within the secondary sacks.
Ulfberth picked up the items, inspecting them meticulously.
"The standard steel swords and the iron maces are in decent condition," Ulfberth muttered, testing the edge of a greatsword with his thumb. "Needs a turn on the grindstone, but the core metal is solid. This iron shield, though... it took a massive hit. It's in bad shape. It will need some serious, heavy repair work before I can sell it to a guard."
Aerion simply nodded, allowing the blacksmith to conduct his assessment.
But then, Aerion reached back into the sack and pulled out the ancient, heavily horned iron helmets and the thick, plated boots. He placed the heavy Ancient Nord Armor pieces onto the wood.
Ulfberth paused. He picked up one of the ancient helmets, his eyes widening in genuine surprise as he ran his thick fingers over the archaic, stylized engravings.
"Well, I'll be damned," Ulfberth breathed, his boisterous tone dropping into one of deep respect. "Ancient Nord craftsmanship. You don't see this every day. Most tomb robbers don't survive long enough to pry this off the Draugr. The metal is heavy, but the condition is shockingly decent considering it's been buried for centuries."
He set the helmet down, rubbing his forehead. "I can price the standard steel and iron easily enough. But this ancient armor... it's much rarer. It has historical value. I can't accurately put a price tag on it without shortchanging you or myself."
Ulfberth turned his head toward the door. "Adrianne! Get in here for a minute! I need your eyes on something!"
A moment later, the door opened, and Adrianne Avenicci stepped inside, wiping the sweat and soot from her forehead with a dirty rag.
"What is it, Ulfberth? The forge is hot, I can't—" Adrianne stopped mid sentence as she saw Aerion standing at the counter. Her tired expression instantly brightened into a warm, genuine smile. "Aerion! It is wonderful to see you again so soon. I see you have survived your travels."
"And brought back the spoils to prove it, Adrianne," Aerion greeted politely.
Adrianne walked around the counter, her eyes immediately falling upon the Ancient Nord pieces resting among the steel. Like her husband, she was instantly captivated. She picked up the ancient boots, testing the weight and the flexibility of the petrified leather straps.
"Incredible," Adrianne murmured, her professional curiosity fully engaged. "The forging techniques they used to keep this iron from turning entirely to dust are a lost art."
She spent several minutes silently inspecting the entire haul, the daggers, the maces, the warhammers, the bows, and the ancient armor. She occasionally muttered to herself, mentally calculating the cost of repair against the potential resale value to collectors in Solitude.
Finally, she set the last steel axe down and looked up at Aerion.
"It is a massive haul, Aerion," Adrianne began, her tone shifting to strict business. "The steel and iron will take me days to properly repair and sharpen. But the ancient Nord pieces are highly valuable to the right buyer. For the entire lot, all the weapons and the armor pieces on this counter, I can offer you 975 septims in total."
Aerion's internal merchant calculated the numbers. It was a fair baseline offer for bulk, un repaired loot, but he was a High Elf with a Persuasion Skill that have been prestiged once. He didn't accept baseline.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the polished wood of the counter. He deployed his Persuasion skill, letting his smooth, melodic voice weave a compelling, highly logical counter argument.
"My dear Adrianne, 975 septims is an exceedingly fair price for the mundane steel," Aerion began, his tone dripping with charismatic, friendly negotiation. "However, I must gently push back regarding the historical value of the Ancient Nord armaments. You and I both know that Jarls and wealthy nobles in the capital will pay an absolute premium to display authentic, tomb recovered Nordic armor in their halls."
"Furthermore, the sheer volume of high quality steel I am providing will keep your storefront stocked for a month. Factoring in the prestige and the guaranteed resale margin, I believe 1,125 septims is a vast, much more equitable sum for both of our ledgers."
The sheer, reality bending weight of his perfect Persuasion matrix settled over the room. Adrianne blinked, the irrefutable logic of his argument completely overpowering her initial profit margins.
[Persuasion (+1) Leveled Up 6 Times! Current Level: 25]
Adrianne looked down at the ancient helmet, then back up at Aerion, a helpless, impressed smile touching her lips.
"You drive a remarkably hard, impeccably polite bargain, Elf," Adrianne chuckled, shaking her head. "You are entirely correct. The nobles in Solitude will pay a fortune for the ancient pieces. 1,125 septims it is. We have a deal."
She reached beneath the counter, pulling out a heavy lockbox. She counted out the gold with practiced speed, placing a massive, heavy leather pouch on the counter.
Aerion took the pouch, dropping it seamlessly into his satchel, letting the digital void absorb the currency.
[Gold Acquired: 1,125 Septims. Current Septims: 86,279]
"A pleasure doing business with you, Adrianne, Ulfberth," Aerion bowed slightly. "May your forge remain ever hot."
"Safe travels, Aerion!" Ulfberth boomed as Aerion and Jenassa gathered their remaining, still heavy sacks and exited the Warmaiden.
With the mundane clutter liquidated, the true objective awaited.
They walked up the winding, tiered streets of Whiterun, ascending from the Plains District, through the Wind District, and passing the towering, dead branches of the Gildergreen tree. They finally reached the massive, sweeping stone steps that led up to the imposing wooden doors of Dragonsreach.
The two Whiterun guards stationed at the heavy wooden doors crossed their weapons as they approached.
"Halt. State your business with the Jarl," the guard demanded, eyeing the heavy sacks.
"I am here to finalize a major property transaction with Steward Proventus Avenicci," Aerion stated smoothly.
The guards conducted a thorough, tense inspection of the remaining sacks. They carefully cataloged the presence of the enchanted weapons and the massive quantity of magical scrolls and potions, but after ensuring that the weapons were buried deep and that Jenassa's blades were firmly sheathed and peace tied, they stepped aside.
"Keep your hands away from the magic, Elf. You are cleared for entry," the guard grunted, pulling the massive wooden door open.
Aerion, Jenassa, and Lupin stepped into the Great Porch of Dragonsreach.
The massive, cavernous throne room was bustling with the usual afternoon court activity. Servants hurried back and forth carrying platters of food, and off duty guards stood near the roaring central fire pit.
The moment the towering High Elf and the heavily armed Dark Elf walked in, carrying massive, dirt stained sacks over their shoulders, the ambient chatter of the room noticeably died down. Eyes tracked them with a mixture of intense curiosity and apprehension.
Aerion glanced toward the high seat. The massive wooden throne was empty. Jarl Balgruuf and his Housecarl, Irileth, were nowhere to be seen, likely out inspecting the city walls or holding a private council of war in the tactical room.
However, standing exactly where Aerion needed him to be, hunched over the long wooden dining table near the Jarl's quarters, was Proventus Avenicci.
The balding, perpetually stressed Imperial steward was currently buried beneath a mountain of ledgers, tax documents, and property deeds.
Hearing the heavy, distinct sound of heavy boots and clanking metal approaching, Proventus looked up from his paperwork. His eyes widened significantly, looking slightly perplexed and genuinely surprised as Aerion and Jenassa stopped before his table and dropped the heavy sacks onto the polished stone floor.
"Aerion! And... Jenassa," Proventus greeted, blinking rapidly as he took in their dusty, travel worn appearance. "Welcome back to Dragonsreach. By the Divines, you look as though you have been to the depths of Oblivion and back. What on earth are you carrying in those sacks? How may I help the two of you?"
Aerion offered a smooth, deeply respectful bow, his golden eyes shining with the perfect blend of exhaustion and profound triumph.
"Greetings, Proventus," Aerion began, his melodic voice carrying clearly across the quieted hall. "The wilds of the Pale are indeed unforgiving, but they are equally rewarding to those willing to brave their depths. I have returned, as promised, to finalize our transaction."
Aerion gestured gracefully toward the heavy, bulging sacks resting on the floor.
"I would like to officially submit my upfront down payment for the Tundra Homestead property deed," Aerion announced proudly. "And, if it pleases the court's ledgers, I would also like to begin paying down the primary principal of the loan Jarl Balgruuf so generously extended to me. I intend to use the septims, alongside the highly valuable magical artifacts and precious gems my companion and I have spent the last several days ripping from the hands of the undead."
Proventus's jaw dropped slightly. He quickly stood up from his chair, his bureaucratic skepticism entirely overridden by the prospect of immediate, massive financial gain for the city's depleted coffers.
"You... you have the down payment already?" Proventus stammered, deeply impressed by the sheer speed of the High Elf's wealth generation. "Of course, Aerion, of course we can process that immediately! Why don't you show me the items you wish to barter, and we can appraise them against the loan balance? And, naturally, I will need to verify the septims for the upfront Homestead payment."
"With absolute pleasure, Proventus," Aerion smiled, an expression of flawless, calculated victory.
Aerion knelt before the sacks. He reached into his digital void one final time, isolating the exact sum of raw currency required to secure the deed to his new empire. He physically manifested the gold, pulling an impossibly massive, incredibly heavy leather pouch completely filled with pure, minted septims from the top of the sack. He stood up, and with a heavy, deeply satisfying thud, Aerion placed 3,000 golden septims directly onto the center of the steward's ledger.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 400/400 Stamina: 400/400 Magicka: 570/570
Level: 97
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+2)/Lightning(+1)/Frost) (Level 54/19/89), Restoration (Healing/Purify) (Level 76/MAX), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning) (Level 37/MAX), Persuasion(+1) (Level 25), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 33), One Handed (Level 76), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 34), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), & Feim (Fade)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, 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, Dragonstone, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, Elven Sword Of Lightning, Circlet Of Peerless Alchemy, The Mirror, Glass Sword, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Iron Gauntlets of Smithing, Reanimate Corpse Tome, Honed Ancient Nord Greatsword of Cold, Elven Armor of Bountiful Health, Staff of Lightning, & Meridia's Beacon
2x Potion Of Ultimate Magicka, Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Elven Sword
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, & Black Soul Gems (Filled)
4x Potions of Minor Magicka & Spider Eggs
5x Lesser Soul Gem
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 97.39KG / 500 KG
Septims: 83,279