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 stood up, looking around the massive, sturdy wooden walls of the Tundra Homestead. He felt the heavy, dark weight of the Ebony Sword at his hip, and the cosmic, reality bending power thrumming in his veins. "This is our home," Aerion declared to the empty room. "This... is our new base of operations."
In response to his words, a sudden flurry of rapid, clicking claws on the wood drew his attention downward.
Lupin was currently engaged in a high speed, systematic inspection of the premises. The tiny cinnamon fox darted under the heavy wooden dining table, hopped onto a plush fur rug to test its softness, and finally sprinted in a tight circle around Aerion's boots.
Lupin sat back on his haunches, looking up at the towering High Elf. He let out a rapid, enthusiastic series of high pitched yips and cheerful, trilling sounds.
Through the passive, constant connection of his maximized Animal Affinity matrix, the raw, emotional intent behind the fox's vocalizations translated flawlessly into Aerion's mind.
Lupin was vibrating with sheer, unadulterated approval. The fox was communicating, in no uncertain terms, that this new territory was vastly superior, infinitely cozier, and entirely lacking the stressful, noisy foot traffic of that crowded wooden building they had been sleeping in back in the city.
Aerion let out a rich, genuine chuckle, kneeling down to give the fox a heavy scratch behind his large, tufted ears.
"I am in complete agreement with your assessment, my little friend," Aerion smiled, his voice soft in the quiet house. "It is a vast improvement over the Bannered Mare or the Nightgate Inn. We have no drunken patrons of the inn shouting through the walls, and no bards plucking off key lutes until the early hours of the morning. It is our own, private sanctuary."
Lupin let out another happy yip, leaning into the High Elf's hand.
However, Aerion's golden eyes gleamed with a sudden, mischievous light. He decided to test the depths of his familiar's comprehension, finding the fox's highly expressive personality to be one of his greatest sources of genuine entertainment in this harsh world.
"There is, however, one significant, terrible downside to our new arrangement however," Aerion sighed dramatically, standing back up and crossing his arms. He looked down at the fox with a perfectly executed expression of sorrow. "Because we are now living out here in the open plains, situated so far from the city gates... it is going to be incredibly time wasting to travel back and forth just to visit the inn. I am afraid Lupin, that our access to fresh Sweet Rolls will be severely, permanently restricted."
The effect was instantaneous and absolutely hilarious.
Lupin froze entirely. The happy tapping of his front paws ceased. The fox slowly turned his head, his dark, intelligent eyes locking onto Aerion's face with an expression of profound, unadulterated horror.
For three seconds, there was dead silence.
Then, Lupin threw his head back and let out a series of incredibly loud, sustained, highly dramatic yips of absolute protest. He stomped his front paws against the floorboards, spinning in an agitated circle, broadcasting waves of sheer betrayal and culinary outrage through their empathic link. 'Unacceptable! The sugary food is mandatory!'
Aerion threw his head back and laughed aloud, the sound echoing warmly off the high wooden rafters.
"Peace, Lupin, peace!" Aerion chuckled, kneeling back down to placate the distraught animal. "I am merely teasing you. I assure you, with the sheer volume of gold we currently possess, I will personally hire a courier to deliver fresh Sweet Rolls to our doorstep every single morning if I have to. You shall not be deprived of it,."
Mollified, but still casting a highly suspicious glare at his master, Lupin let out a huff through his nose and trotted off toward the warmth of the furs as he curl up on the thickest bear pelt he could find.
As Aerion stood up, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, the heavy wooden door of the homestead swung open.
Jenassa stepped inside, the late afternoon sun casting a long shadow behind her. She closed the door, shaking a thin layer of dust from her leather armor.
"The message has been delivered, Patron," Jenassa reported, her gravelly voice shifting back to its professional, mercenary cadence. "I found Sinmir drilling the others at the courtyard of their storehouse. He is gathering the entire company as we speak. They are currently forming up and marching down the main trade road toward the homestead."
Aerion nodded smoothly, shifting his mental gears from playful pet owner back to the calculating architect of a private empire.
"Excellent work, Jenassa," Aerion replied. "Since they are marching on foot, it will take them a short while to traverse the plains. That is perfectly understandable. I will utilize this time to finalize the blueprints for our expansion."
"Blueprints?" Jenassa asked, raising a scarred eyebrow.
"Indeed," Aerion confirmed, walking toward the long, polished wooden bar counter that separated the kitchen area from the main living space. "If we are to mobilize a dozen armed mercenaries as a private construction crew, we need highly specific, actionable schematics. I need to map out the exact size of the mammoth grazing area, the placement of the defensive perimeter, and the location of our secondary infrastructure."
Aerion reached into his spatial void. With a soft shimmer of displaced air, he materialized a thick, leather bound journal, a crystal inkwell filled with deep black squid ink, and a sharpened eagle feather quill. He set the items down on the counter, flipped the journal open to a massive, blank double page spread, and pulled up a stool.
"We must be highly methodical," Aerion muttered, dipping the quill.
He began to draw. In the absolute center of the left page, he sketched a rough, blocky square to represent the Tundra Homestead.
"The main house is our foundation," Aerion narrated his thoughts aloud as the quill scratched against the parchment. "But a single house cannot sustain a private squad. I plan to build two massive, sturdy storehouses flanking the main property. The first will serve its traditional purpose, a secure, dry location to stockpile our produces, excess weaponry, construction lumber, and refined ores."
He drew a lopsided rectangle to the west of the main house.
"The second storehouse, however," Aerion continued, drawing another rectangle to the east, "will be fully renovated into a dedicated barracks for the company. We cannot have a dozen mercenaries sleeping in the dirt. I will have it outfitted with sturdy wooden beds, heavy woolen blankets, personal iron storage chests for their gear, and proper weapon racks. A long central table and a dedicated fire pit will ensure they remain comfortable and loyal. A well rested army is a lethal army."
Jenassa nodded from the side, silently approving of the logistical care he was taking for his hired swords. Most minor nobles treated mercenaries like disposable tools; providing dedicated, furnished barracks was a massive incentive for loyalty.
Aerion moved his quill further south on the parchment. "Here, near the perimeter of the property line, I want to construct a small, highly efficient apiary. A dedicated bee farm. Honey is a vital alchemical ingredient for crafting high tier stamina potions, and possessing our own renewable source will cut our overhead costs significantly." He drew several small, wobbly hexagons to represent the hives.
"And here, to the west," Aerion pointed, scratching out the shape of an anvil, "we establish a fully operational blacksmithing forge. A smelter, a workbench, a grindstone, and a heavy anvil. It will serve a dual purpose. Firstly, it provides me with the necessary infrastructure to continuously practice my smithing skill. Secondly, it will allow me in the future when my smithing skill reached a certain level to personally forge, temper, and enchant high quality armaments to reward the company for exemplary service."
Finally, Aerion dragged his quill across the entire right hand page of the journal, encompassing the massive, flat expanse of the plains behind the homestead.
"And this," Aerion declared, drawing several incredibly crude, vaguely elephant shaped blobs surrounded by a massive square border, "is the primary objective. The mammoth grazing pens. We will need to sink deep, reinforced stone pylons and thick timber palisades to contain them. Furthermore, we must construct a secondary, defensive stone fence encompassing the entire property perimeter to deter wandering bandits, Sabre Cats, and the occasional ambitious giants that maybe wandered in and saw the mammoths."
Aerion sat back on his stool, placing the quill down, deeply satisfied with his comprehensive, visionary blueprint.
From his right side, a sudden, distinct sound broke the silence.
Jenassa was pressing her gloved hand tightly over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently. A muffled, incredibly undignified snort of laughter escaped her lips.
Aerion turned his head, his golden eyes narrowing in genuine confusion. "Jenassa? Why are you suddenly laughing? Is there a flaw in the blueprint I have made?"
The Dark Elf lowered her hand, letting out a gravelly, highly amused chuckle. She stepped closer to the bar counter, pointing a finger directly at the massive, sprawling right hand page of his journal.
"Forgive me, Patron," Jenassa gasped, struggling to compose her usually stoic features. "Your vision is flawless. It is truly the mind of a scholar. But... by the Ancestors, I simply did not expect that a High Elf of your immense power and mind could be so utterly, hopelessly terrible at drawing."
Aerion blinked, looking down at his masterpiece.
"Terrible?" Aerion repeated, feigning aristocratic offense.
"It looks like the charcoal scribbles of a Nord toddler," Jenassa laughed, tapping the page. "Your storehouses look like collapsing wedges of cheese. Your apiary looks like a cluster of squashed mudcrabs. And these..." She pointed at the mammoth enclosure. "I honestly thought these were incredibly fat dogs with long sticks glued to their faces. I had absolutely no idea they were supposed to represent the most majestic beasts in the tundra."
Aerion let out a heavy, highly dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The absolute truth was that despite his 500 point Magicka pool, his ability to manipulate the fabric of time, and his mastery over the elements, his fine motor skills regarding artistic representation had always been absolutely abysmal, both in his past life and his current one.
"It is my singular, tragic weakness, Jenassa," Aerion admitted, shaking his head with a self deprecating smile. "I can incinerate a Draugr Overlord from fifty paces, but I cannot draw a circle to save my life. But the aesthetic quality of the blueprint is entirely irrelevant. So long as I can clearly, verbally describe what I require and where I require it to the laborers, the geometry will sort itself out."
Before Jenassa could offer another witty critique of his art, a heavy, rhythmic, and incredibly loud series of knocks hammered against the heavy wooden front door of the homestead.
"The vanguard has arrived," Aerion announced, closing the inkwell.
Jenassa stepped away from the counter, walked to the front of the room, and pulled the heavy iron latch, swinging the door wide open.
Standing on the front porch, casting a massive shadow into the house, was Captain Sinmir. The hulking Nord warrior was clad in his heavy, polished steel plate armor, a massive greatsword strapped securely to his broad back.
Gathered on the dirt clearing directly behind him, standing in a loose, heavily armed, and highly intimidating formation, was the entirety of Aerion's newly minted private mercenary company.
Aerion looked past Sinmir's shoulder, his eyes cataloging the lethal assets he had acquired. There was the fiercely independent Uthgerd the Unbroken, leaning casually on her massive steel battleaxe. Standing beside her was the stoic Torsten Iron-Arm and the scarred fierce Runa Shield-Breaker.
Taking up the middle ranks was the incredibly agile Gwaering the Bosmer, stringing his hunting bow, flanked by the disciplined Imperial veteran Titus Varr, the curved sword wielding Redguard Rashid al-Dan, and the darkly clad, dual wielding Haldir the Black.
Anchoring the rear of the formation were the heavy infantry: Signy Deep-Winter, the hulking Valdar, the shield-maiden Jora, and the veteran Nord warrior Erlend.
Every single one of them was fully armed, covered in the dust of the road, and radiating the rough, competent aura of professional killers who had finally found a steady, highly lucrative paycheck.
"Captain Sinmir," Jenassa greeted with a professional, respectful nod, stepping aside to clear the threshold.
"Jenassa," Sinmir returned the greeting, stepping into the warmth of the homestead. He looked past the Dark Elf, his eyes locking onto the towering, immaculate High Elf standing behind the bar counter. He offered a sharp, militaristic salute, slamming his gauntleted fist against his chest plate. "Boss."
"Welcome, Sinmir," Aerion replied smoothly, returning a polite nod. "Please, bring everyone inside out of the wind. There is more than enough room for the company."
Sinmir turned back to the porch, waving a heavy, armored arm. "Alright, you lot! Inside! Wipe your boots on the stone, and don't break anything!"
The eleven mercenaries filed into the homestead. The spacious, cozy living room suddenly felt incredibly dense. The smell of oiled leather, polished steel, sweat, and road dust instantly filled the air as the warriors spread out, their eyes wandering over the high quality fur rugs, the roaring hearth, and the fully stocked kitchen. Several appreciative murmurs echoed through the ranks.
Jenassa closed the heavy wooden door behind the last man, securing the room.
Sinmir stepped forward, resting his hands on his armored hips. He looked around the massive, sturdy wooden architecture, a genuinely impressed smile breaking through his usually grim features.
"I have to say, boss, this is a magnificent piece of property," Sinmir congratulated his employer, his voice booming in the enclosed space. "Sturdy logs, good stone foundation, and a roof that won't cave in under the first heavy snowfall. It's a vast improvement over the drafty lofts of the storehouse at Pelagia Farm. At the very least, the company now has a highly defensible, centralized base of operations."
"That is precisely the objective, Captain," Aerion nodded, picking up his open journal from the counter and walking toward the center of the room to address the gathered company.
"Gather round, everyone," Aerion commanded, his melodic voice easily commanding the attention of the hardened killers.
The mercenaries closed ranks, forming a rough semi-circle around the High Elf, their eyes tracking his every movement.
Aerion held up the open journal, displaying his sprawling, two page blueprint.
"I have acquired this land, but a single house does not make an empire," Aerion began, projecting the aura of a visionary leader. "We are going to expand this property immediately. I have already drafted the operational schematics. Our first major construction priority will be two massive, reinforced wooden storehouses."
Aerion pointed to the left side of the crude drawing. "One will serve as our primary vault for grain, timber, and armaments. The other..." He paused, making sure he had their absolute attention. "...will be entirely renovated into a dedicated, heated barracks for this company. I will not have my elite vanguard sleeping in the dirt or relying on tavern beds. It will be outfitted with proper bunks, weapon racks, heavy chests, and a central fire pit for your comfort."
A low, highly approving murmur rippled through the ranks of the mercenaries. Torsten Iron-Arm nodded slowly, and Uthgerd the Unbroken offered a fierce grin. A boss who actually cared about the sleeping conditions of his grunts was a rare, highly valuable commodity.
Sinmir leaned forward, squinting at the journal in Aerion's hands. He stared at the crude, wobbly rectangles and the squashed, vaguely hexagonal blobs for several seconds.
A sudden, loud snort escaped Sinmir's nose. He quickly covered his mouth with a gauntleted hand, coughing loudly to disguise the laugh, shooting a highly amused, knowing glance at Jenassa.
Aerion's left eye twitched slightly. He completely ignored the Captain's critique of his artistic skills, maintaining his absolute, dignified composure.
"Furthermore," Aerion continued smoothly, turning the journal to point out the other zones, "we will be constructing a fully operational blacksmithing area to ensure your armaments are always in peak condition. We will build a small, highly productive apiary for alchemical resources. We will surround the immediate property with a heavy, defensive stone perimeter fence."
Aerion took a slow, dramatic breath, preparing to drop the ultimate logistical bomb.
"And finally," Aerion declared, pointing to the sprawling, catastrophic stick figure drawings on the right page. "In the massive, open plains directly behind this homestead, we will be sinking massive, reinforced timber pylons. We are going to construct a sprawling, highly secure containment zone... for a massive, commercial Mammoth farm."
Dead silence fell over the living room.
The approving murmurs instantly vanished. The hardened, fearless killers who would gladly charge a bandit camp with a rusty spoon suddenly stared at the High Elf as if he had just sprouted a second head.
"Boss..." Sinmir started, his voice dropping into a low, incredibly cautious register. The amusement had completely vanished from his eyes. "Did... did you just say... Mammoths? Plural?"
Aerion nodded calmly. "I did."
Titus Varr, the disciplined Imperial veteran, swallowed hard. "Sir... with all due respect to your magical prowess... a single mammoth is a walking siege engine. They can flip a fully loaded merchant carriage like a child's toy. They are fiercely territorial, highly aggressive beasts. Anyone who has ever tried to 'farm' them has ended up as a red stain on the bottom of a giant's club."
"A highly valid, historically accurate concern, Titus," Aerion acknowledged smoothly, sweeping his gaze across the terrified, skeptical faces of his company.
"However," Aerion countered, his voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable confidence, "to make a very long, highly complex arcane story short... I have recently developed a unique, entirely proprietary form of magical communion. I possess the ability to interface directly with the minds of beasts. I can soothe them. I can command them. I can render them entirely docile."
He looked directly at Sinmir. "I assure you, Captain. This project will succeed where all others have failed in blood. You do not need to worry about the herd going on a sudden, violent rampage and crushing the barracks. I will personally oversee the acquisition of the beasts, and I will be here to ensure that their aggression is completely, permanently nullified."
The mercenaries exchanged highly skeptical, incredibly nervous glances. But Jenassa, who had personally watched Aerion pacify two charging mammoths in the open plains just days ago, simply crossed her arms and offered a confirming, stoic nod.
"If the Patron says the beasts will behave, they will behave," Jenassa stated flatly. "I have seen it with my own eyes."
Coming from the terrifying Dark Elf assassin, the endorsement carried massive weight. The tension in the room slowly, hesitantly began to deflate.
Aerion capitalized on the moment.
"I have gathered you all here today because I require a massive influx of labor to build this infrastructure," Aerion announced, raising his voice to ensure every man and woman heard him clearly. "I do not expect you to haul timber and lay stone for free. You were hired as swords, not carpenters. Therefore, any man or woman who assists in the construction of this estate will be paid a highly generous, separate wage, entirely independent of your standard mercenary retainer."
The nervous skepticism regarding the mammoths instantly evaporated, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer, undeniable gravity of pure greed. Double pay. The mercenaries suddenly looked incredibly eager to start digging holes.
"Hazard pay and construction wages," Sinmir grinned, rubbing his hands together. He looked at Aerion, his eyes burning with renewed, highly motivated energy. "When do we start the labor, boss?"
"I want the foundations laid as soon as physically possible," Aerion replied sharply, closing his journal. "Time is our most valuable resource. We will begin the procurement of materials right now. I am going to separate this company into four highly specific, targeted logistical teams."
Aerion stepped behind the bar counter, pointing to the warriors to assign their tasks.
"Uthgerd, Torsten, Runa," Aerion commanded. The three massive Nords stepped forward. "You are Team One. You are marching directly to the village of Riverwood, located to the southwest. Find the lumber mill operated by Hod and Gerdur. I want you to purchase every single piece of sawn timber, heavy log, and wooden plank they currently have in stock, and hire their carts to transport it back here."
"Consider the forest bought, boss," Uthgerd grinned fiercely, resting her axe on her shoulder.
"Titus, Rashid, Haldir," Aerion pointed to the next three. "You are Team Two. We require hundreds of tons of raw stone for the perimeter fence and the foundations. Scout the local quarries near the Whiterun borders, or negotiate with the local masons. Buy out their entire excavated supply and secure transport."
The Imperial, the Redguard, and the Bosmer nodded sharply in unison.
"Gwaering, Signy, Valdar," Aerion continued. "You are Team Three. Heavy construction requires iron. You will march into Whiterun. Go to Warmaiden's, and go to Belethor's General Goods. Buy every single iron fitting, nail, hinge, lock, and heavy carpenter's tool they possess. Empty their shelves."
"Done," Gwaering the Bosmer confirmed, adjusting his bow.
Aerion turned his golden eyes to the final group. "Sinmir, Jora, Erlend. You are Team Four. You will remain here. Your primary objective is to begin mapping out the physical perimeter of the property based on my blueprints. Furthermore, you will rotate shifts back to our camp at Pelagia Farm. It is absolutely vital that we maintain our public cover as a standard, wandering mercenary company available for hire, rather than a private, centralized army."
"Understood, boss," Sinmir nodded, fully grasping the necessity of operational security.
Sinmir turned around, facing his heavily armed troops. His voice boomed through the room, shifting instantly from a hired sword to a hardened military commander.
"Alright, you lot, you heard the boss!" Sinmir barked, his face a mask of absolute, uncompromising authority. "You have your specific targets, and you have your orders. Execute them quickly and efficiently. And let me make one thing absolutely, terrifyingly clear..."
Sinmir narrowed his eyes, glaring at every single mercenary in the room. "You are being trusted with the boss's gold to make these purchases. If I find out that a single septim, one single, solitary coin, went missing from the procurement funds to pay for your ale or your gambling debts, you won't have to worry about the mammoths crushing you. I will personally snap your legs and throw you into the White River. Do we understand each other?"
A chorus of loud, immediate, highly motivated confirmations echoed through the ranks. "Yes, Captain!"
"Excellent," Aerion smiled smoothly, entirely approving of Sinmir's ruthless middle management skills.
Aerion turned away from the counter. "Wait right here for just a moment. I must retrieve the procurement funds."
Aerion walked across the living room and pushed open the heavy wooden door leading into the spacious, elevated master bedroom on the left side of the house.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him to ensure absolute privacy, maintaining the illusion that he kept his vast wealth hidden within the physical property rather than pulling it from thin air.
Standing in the quiet bedroom, Aerion opened his systemic interface.
He accessed his massive, more than eighty thousand septim fortune. He mentally separated the required funds, rapidly channeling the digital currency into the physical world.
He pulled three large, heavy leather pouches from his void. He carefully counted exactly 1,500 gold septims into each pouch, ensuring the weight was perfectly balanced for the massive purchases required. With a total of 4,500 septims secured in the three heavy bags, Aerion smoothed his dark robes, opened the bedroom door, and walked back out into the main living room, ready to fund the rapid, explosive expansion of his new empire.
_____________________________
[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 30), 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, & Deed to Tundra Homestead
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: 78,779