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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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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.
Proventus, the meticulously organized and perpetually stressed Imperial Steward of Whiterun, stared at the massive leather pouch resting squarely atop his open ledger. The heavy, unmistakable thud, of thousands of gold coins hitting the polished wood of the long dining table seemed to echo loudly in the quiet expanse of the Great Porch.
He looked up from the pouch, his eyes darting to the towering High Elf, then to the heavily armed Dark Elf standing silently beside him, and finally back to the gold.
"Wait just one moment, if you please," Proventus murmured, holding up a single, ink stained finger.
The Imperial Steward was a man of numbers, not of blind faith. He reached out and carefully untied the thick leather drawstrings of the pouch. He pulled the neck of the bag wide open, peering down into the depths. The interior was a solid, gleaming mass of gold.
But Proventus was thorough. He shifted the bag side to side, watching the coins cascade and listening to the specific, heavy clinking sound that only pure, minted gold could produce. He reached a hand inside, digging past the top layer to ensure the bottom wasn't filled with lead or mundane iron weights.
He pulled out a handful of the septims, holding them up to the light of the nearby brazier. He examined the stamped visage of Tiber Septim, rubbing his thumb over the raised edges to check for any signs of counterfeit clipping. The minting was flawless, albeit coated in a thin, microscopic layer of ancient, freezing crypt dust.
Satisfied that the currency was entirely legitimate, Proventus set the handful of coins back onto the table.
"You stated this was three thousand septims, correct, Aerion?" Proventus asked, his tone shifting from bureaucratic skepticism to genuine, impressed professional respect.
"Exactly three thousand, Proventus," Aerion nodded smoothly, his expression a mask of polite, cooperative honesty.
Proventus let out a slow breath, nodding his balding head. He picked up his quill, dipping it into his inkwell, and made a quick, sharp notation on the parchment ledger before him.
"Very well. The payment in septims are verified," Proventus stated, tapping the quill against the desk. "As we previously discussed, the total upfront payment required to secure the deed to the Tundra Homestead is eight thousand, five hundred septims. With this initial deposit, you require an additional five thousand, five hundred septims to clear the threshold."
Proventus stood up from his chair, walking around the long wooden table to stand before the two massive, dirt stained burlap sacks Aerion and Jenassa had hauled into the keep.
"I will now inspect the physical assets you have provided," the Steward explained, rolling up the sleeves of his fine tunic. "I will appraise their value for the city's treasury. We will continue to deduct from the remaining five thousand, five hundred until the debt is satisfied."
"Take all the time you require, Steward," Aerion offered graciously, gesturing toward the open sacks.
Proventus knelt before the first sack, the one specifically curated by Aerion to hold the high-value, low-weight items. The Steward's eyes widened slightly as he pulled the burlap back.
He immediately went for the raw, concentrated wealth. With practiced, careful hands, Proventus extracted the loose gemstones first. He lined up the flawless Rubies, the deep blue Sapphires, the vibrant Emeralds, and the dark Garnets along the edge of the wooden table.
Next, he pulled out the intricately crafted jewelry, the Golden Emerald Circlet, the Copper Sapphire Circlet, and the Silver Garnet Circlet. He followed this with the heavy, clinking handfuls of Silver Amethyst Rings, Gold Ruby Rings, and the various gold and silver necklaces. Finally, he hauled out the heavy, refined bars of metal, the solid Gold, Silver, Quicksilver, and Dwarven ingots.
Proventus pulled a small, brass jeweler's loupe from his pocket, fitting it over his right eye. He spent several long, agonizingly quiet minutes inspecting the clarity of the gems and the purity stamps on the ancient ingots.
"These are... remarkable," Proventus muttered to himself, setting down a flawless Ruby. "The cuts on these gems are archaic, amazing techniques. And the ingots are completely free of modern slag."
He stood up, consulting a mental ledger of current market prices across the holds. "For the entirety of the precious stones, the jewelry, and the refined metal ingots... the city treasury can comfortably value these assets at four thousand, fifty septims."
Aerion smiled, but it was a smile that didn't quite reach his calculating golden eyes. Four thousand was a fair baseline, but he was not a man who settled for baseline. He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands gracefully on the edge of the table, and deployed his maximized charismatic matrix.
"A highly respectable initial appraisal, Proventus," Aerion began, his melodic voice weaving a compelling, practically hypnotic web of irrefutable economic logic. "However, I must kindly ask you to reconsider the premium intrinsic to these specific items. These are not mere trinkets fenced by common bandits."
"They are perfectly preserved. The nobles in Solitude, or the wealthy merchants of the East Empire Company, would pay an absolute fortune simply for the historical prestige of owning such great jewelries. By holding these inside the Jarl's treasury, you possess highly liquid, immensely profitable trade assets that will appreciate in value the moment the civil war concludes."
"Considering the pristine condition and the guaranteed, exponential resale margin, I believe a valuation of four thousand, six hundred and fifty septims is vastly more equitable for Whiterun's ledgers."
The sheer, reality-bending weight of the Persuasion skill settled over the Steward's mind. Proventus blinked, his bureaucratic caution entirely overridden by the sudden, crystal clear vision of maximizing the Jarl's treasury returns.
[Persuasion (+1) Leveled Up 5 Times! Current Level: 30]
"You... you make a profound point, Aerion," Proventus conceded, nodding his head slowly as the logic took absolute hold. "The historical premium is undeniable. Very well. I will adjust the valuation to four thousand, six hundred and fifty septims."
Aerion offered a polite, deferential bow. "Your financial acumen is a credit to the hold, Steward."
With the jewelry settled, Proventus returned to the sacks, digging into the remaining assets. His hands brushed against the enchanted armaments and the magical supplies.
He pulled out the Ancient Nord Battleaxe of Blaze, the heavy iron weapon practically humming with latent, contained fire magic. He laid it carefully on the table alongside the Staff of Magelight. He then stacked the Scrolls of Guardian Circle, the Scrolls of Fireball, and the various potions of magicka poison and paralysis.
"Fascinating," Proventus murmured, looking at the glowing battleaxe. "Enchanted weaponry of this caliber is exceedingly rare to find in such functional condition. This axe could be awarded to a captain of the guard, or used as a highly prestigious bounty reward to attract seasoned mercenaries to the hold's defense. And such restoration scrolls are practically priceless during fight against dark entities."
Proventus performed a rapid series of mental calculations, evaluating the military and tactical worth of the magical assets.
"For the enchanted weaponry, the staves, the high tier scrolls, and the alchemical compounds," Proventus announced, looking up at Aerion, "I appraise their total value at two thousand, one hundred septims."
"Agreed," Aerion nodded instantly, requiring no further negotiation on the practical items.
Proventus walked back to his ledger, picking up his quill. He began to run the final arithmetic, his lips moving silently as he added the sums.
"Let us review," Proventus stated, his voice taking on a formal, official cadence. "We have four thousand, six hundred and fifty septims from the precious metals and jewelry. We add two thousand, one hundred septims from the magical armaments and scrolls. That brings the physical asset total to six thousand, seven hundred and fifty septims."
He pointed his quill at the massive leather pouch. "Added to the three thousand raw gold septims you provided initially, your total current payment amounts to nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty septims."
Proventus looked up, a slightly bewildered, highly impressed expression on his face. "The requirement for the Tundra Homestead was eight thousand, five hundred. Aerion... you have overpaid by exactly one thousand, two hundred and fifty septims."
Aerion smiled, a look of flawless, benevolent responsibility. "A fortunate excess, Proventus. If you would be so kind, I would like to apply that remaining one thousand, two hundred and fifty septims directly toward the principal balance of the initial loan Jarl Balgruuf extended to me for the farm."
Proventus's eyes widened slightly. In all his years managing the finances of Whiterun, he had rarely encountered a debtor so eager, and so immediately capable, of paying down a royal loan ahead of schedule.
"That is... highly responsible of you, Aerion," Proventus praised, genuinely delighted by the lack of fiscal headache. "I will immediately update the ledgers to reflect the down payment as paid in full, and mark the excess against your outstanding principal."
The scratch of the quill against parchment was loud in the quiet hall. Proventus furiously documented the transaction, finalizing the transfer of wealth.
He set the quill down, shaking his head in profound amazement.
"I must admit, Aerion, you collect wealth at an absolutely staggering pace," Proventus remarked, looking between the massive pile of loot and the towering High Elf. "It has been mere days since you signed the initial contract. The sheer volume of these spoils... you and your companion Jenassa have demonstrated a level of skill that borders on the terrifying."
"Defeating a giant in the open plains of the tundra is an incredible feat of power, yes. But successfully navigating the pitch black, trap filled depths of ancient Nord crypts, and surviving the wilderness of Skyrim to haul this much treasure back? That is an entirely different level of mastery."
Aerion placed a hand over his heart, projecting absolute, humble grace.
"You are too kind, Steward," Aerion replied smoothly. "But I cannot accept the praise alone. It is entirely thanks to Jenassa's unparalleled tracking skills, her lethal precision in the dark, and her flawless navigation of the subterranean ruins that we were able to return at all, let alone with such a bounty."
Jenassa, standing silently slightly behind Aerion's right shoulder, blinked. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed her scarred features. She knew perfectly well that Aerion was the one who had incinerated entire armies, summoned Daedric entities, and single handedly annihilated Draugr Overlords. She had merely guarded his flanks and picked off stragglers.
But as a professional mercenary, she recognized the political play instantly. Aerion was publicly elevating her status, cementing her as a vital, highly competent asset in the eyes of the Jarl's court, rather than just a hired sword trailing behind a powerful mage.
She quickly composed her features, offering a stoic, dangerous nod to the Steward. "We complement each other's lethalities perfectly, Steward. The Patron provides the magic firepower, I ensure the path remains clear."
Proventus smiled, appreciating the deadly professionalism of the duo.
Before the Steward could offer further praise, the heavy, echoing sound of armored footsteps and loud, booming conversation drifted down from the right hand stone staircase.
Emerging from the upper levels that connected to the tactical war council room and the Jarl's private family quarters were Jarl Balgruuf the Greater and his Dark Elf Housecarl, Irileth.
Balgruuf was dressed in his heavy, regal golden finery, a massive bear pelt draped over his broad shoulders. He was rubbing his temples, looking slightly fatigued from what was undoubtedly a long, grueling discussion regarding the advancing Imperial front lines.
However, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and looked across the Great Porch, his eyes locked onto the towering figure in dark robes, the heavily armed mercenary, and the massive, sprawling pile of ancient weaponry and gold resting on his dining table.
"By Ysmir's beard!" Balgruuf's booming voice shattered the quiet atmosphere of the hall. The fatigue vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a massive, delighted grin.
Aerion, Jenassa, and Proventus immediately turned away from the table, bowing deeply as the Jarl of Whiterun approached them.
"Aerion! You have returned to my halls!" Balgruuf greeted enthusiastically, clapping a massive, calloused hand onto the High Elf's shoulder. "And you brought half the mountain with you, it seems! Proventus, what is the meaning of this mess upon your table?"
Proventus quickly stepped forward, bowing again. "My Jarl. Aerion has returned to officially process his upfront down payment for the Tundra Homestead property deed. Not only has he provided the full eight thousand, five hundred septims in raw currency and high value artifacts, but he has also provided an excess of one thousand, two hundred and fifty septims, which he has already applied toward the principal of his initial loan."
Irileth, standing a half step behind the Jarl, raised a sleek, dark eyebrow. Her piercing red eyes swept over the massive pile of looted ancient Nord armor and the heavy gold pouches, calculating the sheer violence required to acquire such a haul in such a short timeframe.
Jarl Balgruuf stood perfectly still for a moment, processing the Steward's report. He looked from the massive pile of gold to Aerion's composed face.
Suddenly, Balgruuf threw his head back and let out a loud, booming, echoing laugh that shook the rafters of Dragonsreach.
"Ha! By the Gods, I knew I made the right decision betting on you, Elf!" Balgruuf roared, absolutely thrilled by the sheer, overwhelming competence of his new vassal. "What an absolute surprise! You finalized the payment so incredibly fast! It has been what, less than a week? You must have worked like a rabid troll to clear that much wealth from the ruins!"
Balgruuf leaned in closer, his blue eyes gleaming with the inherent Nordic love for a good saga of violence and glory. "You have to tell me how you managed it, Aerion. What ruins did you crack open? What horrors did you put back in the dirt to claim this gold?"
Aerion offered a bright, engaging smile, perfectly matching the Jarl's boisterous energy. "Of course I will tell you, Jarl Balgruuf. It would be my absolute honor. Just name the time and the place, and I shall recount every freezing night and every rusted blade we encountered."
Balgruuf waved a dismissive hand. "Name the time and place? Why in Oblivion don't we do it right now?"
The Jarl turned to his Steward, his mind made up with absolute, spontaneous royal authority.
"Proventus! I am personally accompanying Aerion to the Tundra Homestead this afternoon," Balgruuf declared loudly. "I want to walk the land. I want to hear the story of his battles on the road, and I will physically hand him the iron key to his new estate the moment we cross the threshold."
The entire Great Porch seemed to freeze.
Proventus's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "My Jarl! Please! You cannot be serious! Escorting a citizen to their property is a highly trivial, bureaucratic matter! I can easily process the deed and hand him the key right here! You have a massive stack of documents from around the hold that require your immediate signature!"
Irileth stepped forward instantly, her hand resting instinctively on the hilt of her curved sword, her tone sharp and uncompromising. "My Jarl, the Steward is right, though for the wrong reasons. It is a massive security risk. The roads outside the city walls are not entirely safe. We have reports of Stormcloak scouts in the tundra. The Jarl of Whiterun cannot simply go for a casual afternoon stroll without a full, heavily armed Vanguard detail!"
Balgruuf scoffed loudly, waving both of his advisors off with a heavy sweep of his arm.
"Nonsense, the both of you!" Balgruuf boomed, his stubbornness legendary across the province. "It is not a trivial matter, Proventus. Aerion is about to become the very first High Elf in the history of Whiterun to hold a major property deed and establish a localized, independent business within our borders. It is a historic moment for the hold, a symbol of our prosperity and our open doors. It deserves the Jarl's personal blessing."
He turned to his Housecarl, flashing a fearless grin. "And as for security, Irileth, I am flanked by you, a highly lethal dark elf, and a mage who just slaughtered his way through a mountain to pay his rent. If a Stormcloak lr Imperial scout wishes to try their luck, they are welcome to die in the dirt. I have made my decision, and neither of you will change my mind."
The absolute, unyielding tone of the Nordic king brooked no further argument. Irileth let out a sharp, frustrated sigh, while Proventus simply wrung his hands in bureaucratic despair.
Aerion stepped forward, executing a flawless, deeply respectful bow that conveyed his profound appreciation for the political gesture.
"I would be profoundly honored to have the Jarl of the hold personally bestow the deed, my lord," Aerion stated, his voice ringing with genuine gratitude. "Your presence will bless the foundations of my estate."
Balgruuf clapped him on the shoulder again. "It is settled! Proventus, fetch the heavy iron key and the official, sealed deed for the Homestead immediately. I want them in my hands."
Proventus scurried off toward his private quarters behind the throne, returning a moment later holding a massive, heavy iron key and a thick, wax-sealed roll of premium parchment. He handed them both to the Jarl with a defeated sigh.
"Let us walk!" Balgruuf commanded, turning toward the massive main doors of Dragonsreach.
The procession was an immediate spectacle.
As Jarl Balgruuf, Aerion, Jenassa, and Lupin stepped out through the heavy wooden doors of the keep and onto the sweeping stone plaza overlooking the city, the dozen Whiterun guards stationed around the perimeter instantly snapped to absolute, rigid attention. Their eyes widened in profound surprise to see their Jarl casually strolling out of the fortress without a massive entourage.
"My Jarl!" the guard captain shouted, saluting sharply by slamming his fist against his chest plate.
Irileth immediately took control of the situation. She pointed a sharp, gauntleted finger at the captain and three of the heaviest-armored guards nearby.
"You four! Form up!" Irileth barked, her voice cutting through the crisp afternoon air. "Spearhead formation. We are escorting the Jarl to the Pelagia plains. Keep your eyes sharp and your hands on your hilts."
"Yes, Housecarl!" the guards shouted in unison, quickly falling into a disciplined, diamond formation around the royal party.
They began their descent. They walked down the massive stone steps, leaving the Cloud District behind and entering the bustling Wind District.
The sudden, unexpected appearance of Jarl Balgruuf walking casually through the streets caused an immediate, rippling wave of commotion among the citizens. Blacksmiths paused their hammering, merchants stopped shouting their wares, children stopped running.
The people of Whiterun loved their Jarl. Despite the mounting pressure from the Empire and the Stormcloaks, Balgruuf had stubbornly, fiercely kept the fires of war away from their doorsteps. He was their protector.
As they walked past the towering, barren branches of the Gildergreen tree and the rushing waters of the temple plaza, citizens bowed their heads.
"Blessings of Kyne upon you, Jarl Balgruuf!" an elderly woman called out from a bench.
"Long live the Jarl!" a merchant shouted from his stall.
Balgruuf smiled warmly, waving a heavy hand in acknowledgment to his people, projecting strength and unwavering stability.
Aerion, walking half a pace behind and to the right of the Jarl, played his part flawlessly. This was an incredible opportunity to flaunt his newfound political connections, to strut through the city like a favored noble. But Aerion was vastly smarter than that.
He projected an aura of absolute, humble servitude. He kept his hands clasped politely in front of his dark robes, nodding respectfully to the citizens who stared at him. He did not act like a lord, he acted like a loyal, hardworking, deeply grateful citizen who was simply honored to walk in the Jarl's shadow. It was a masterclass in public relations.
As they transitioned down the winding stone stairs into the lower Plains District, walking past the Bannered Mare and the bustling market stalls, Balgruuf turned his head slightly toward the High Elf.
"Now then, Aerion," Balgruuf boomed, his voice easily carrying over the market noise. "We have a walk ahead of us. Tell me this tale. How exactly did you fill those massive sacks?"
Aerion smiled. It was time to spin the saga. He knew exactly what a Nord king wanted to hear: tales of overwhelming odds, terrifying beasts, and ancient glory.
"It began in the Pale, my Jarl," Aerion started, his melodic voice raising slightly so that Proventus and Irileth, walking just behind them, could hear the story as well. "We marched deep into the frozen foothills, seeking the forgotten ruins of Korvanjund."
Aerion masterfully curated the narrative. He completely omitted the discovery of the Jagged Crown, that specific political leverage was for General Tullius alone. Instead, he focused heavily on the visceral combat.
He described the howling, blinding blizzards of the Pale. He painted a vivid, terrifying picture of descending into the pitch black depths of Forsaken Cave, where the very ice seemed to hiss. He recounted the ambush of the Frostbite Spiders, embellishing the size of the massive, house sized arachnid that had dropped from the ceiling to block their path.
"Jenassa was a blur of malachite," Aerion praised, gesturing to his bodyguard. "She severed the beast's venom glands with a single, flawless strike while I bathed the cavern in localized fire to burn away their suffocating webs."
Balgruuf listened with rapt, genuine attention, letting out occasional grunts of approval at the martial prowess.
As they reached the massive, heavy main gates of Whiterun, the guards hauled the portcullis open, parting the crowds to allow the royal procession to exit the city.
Stepping out onto the drawbridge and looking out over the sprawling, golden expanse of the tundra plains, Aerion transitioned to the climax of his tale.
"But the true test, my Jarl, was Ironbind Barrow," Aerion continued, his voice taking on a darker, more dramatic cadence as they walked down the sloping ramp toward the stables. "Deep within the apex of that crypt, seated upon a throne of bone, we awakened Warlord Gathrik."
Aerion described the terrifying, eight foot tall undead giant. He described the blinding, crackling blue frost magic radiating from the Warlord's massive greatsword. He spoke of the desperate, grueling battle on the ancient stone stairs, holding off a horde of skeletal warriors while unleashing the absolute maximum extent of his holy restorative magic to slowly, agonizingly burn the necrotic evil from the Warlord's bones.
"He was a monster of the First Era, my Jarl," Aerion concluded, his tone solemn. "But in the end, the light prevailed. We claimed his hoard, and we rode straight back to your halls."
Balgruuf let out a low whistle, shaking his head in profound respect. Proventus, walking behind them, looked slightly pale at the description of the undead giant, while Irileth's red eyes gleamed with silent, professional approval. The story carried them perfectly as they reached the stables, the warm afternoon sun beating down on their shoulders.
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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 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
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