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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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She understood the dynamic perfectly. She knew exactly when a bodyguard was required, and when a bodyguard was an absolute intrusion. Without saying a single word, Jenassa turned silently on her heel, walked past the inn, and headed straight for the back exit of the tavern at the kitchen, leaving the Patron to navigate his incredibly complex, newly established romantic foray in absolute peace.
Aerion was entirely oblivious to the silent, tactical retreat of his Dark Elf bodyguard. His golden eyes, usually constantly scanning the room for exits, threats, and hidden loot, were focused entirely on the woman sitting across the sturdy wooden table from him.
Ysolda beamed with genuine, domestic pride as Aerion took the first spoonful of the thick potato and leek soup.
"I made the broth myself before the morning rush started," Ysolda explained, leaning forward slightly, her hands wrapped around her warm mug of mead. "It isn't the extravagant venison roasts or the honey glazed pheasants you might be used to in the Summerset Isles, but it is hearty. A proper Nordic breakfast to keep the cold out of your bones."
Aerion swallowed the soup, savoring the rich, savory flavor. It was excellent, deeply comforting food.
"It is absolutely magnificent, Ysolda," Aerion praised, an expression of genuine delight crossing his aristocratic features. He leaned into the eccentric, charming scholar persona he had carefully crafted for her. "I must confess, the high cuisine of Alinor often relies entirely too much on delicate, flavorless foams and over spiced bird tongues. There is a profound, honest strength to Skyrim's culinary arts. It fills the soul as well as the stomach."
Ysolda laughed, a bright, melodic sound that easily cut through the quiet morning ambiance of the taproom. The tension from the previous night's brawl had completely evaporated, replaced by an easy, incredibly comfortable camaraderie.
They ate their breakfast in a shared, comfortable bubble, exchanging lighthearted observations about the few early morning patrons nursing their hangovers in the corners.
Once their bowls were entirely clear, they stood up from the table.
Ysolda smoothed the front of her green dress and walked over to the kitchen area, where Hulda was currently chopping a massive pile of carrots with a heavy iron cleaver.
"Hulda," Ysolda called out, seamlessly slipping into the role of the business owner she have taken off. "I am stepping out for several hours to secure some external provisions. I am leaving the taproom in your capable hands until the afternoon."
Hulda didn't even look up from her cutting board. She just waved the heavy iron cleaver in the air, a massive, knowing smirk plastered across her weathered face.
"Take all the time you need, girl!" Hulda cackled loudly. "The Mare isn't going to burn down in a few hours. Go on, get out into the sunshine. Have a bit of fun with your Elf!"
Ysolda's cheeks immediately flushed a bright, vibrant pink. She shot Hulda a desperate, pleading glare, but the older woman simply continued chopping. Ysolda quickly turned on her heel, hurrying back to where Aerion was waiting by the main doors.
"Let us depart before she says anything else," Ysolda muttered, deeply embarrassed but unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Aerion chuckled softly, pushing the heavy oak doors open and holding them for her. "After you, my lady."
They stepped out of the smoky, warm confines of the Bannered Mare and into the brilliant, crisp morning air of Whiterun. The Plains District was already fully alive.
The loud, bustling voices of the market vendors shouting their wares, the clatter of wooden cartwheels on the cobblestones, and the rhythmic clang of Adrianne's forge created a symphony of urban life. Travelers, off duty guards, and citizens navigated the narrow streets, browsing the fresh goods.
Aerion and Ysolda walked side by side down the stone steps, passing the flowing waters of the city well.
"So," Ysolda began, looking up at the towering Altmer as they navigated the crowd. "You have a massive new estate to provision. What exactly are we looking to procure first? Spices? Fine wines? Cured meats?"
Aerion shook his head, his mind shifting to the brutal, caloric necessities of feeding a mercenary construction crew.
"Nothing so extravagant just yet," Aerion replied pragmatically. "We need to secure the baseline foundations of a larder. I require raw, bulk produce. Items with exceptional longevity. Sacks of potatoes, hearty cabbages, carrots, and a massive quantity of raw wheat for baking. I also need to secure a significant stockpile of salt piles for preservation, and perhaps some fresh apples."
Ysolda nodded, her merchant brain instantly categorizing his requests and mapping out the most efficient route through the market square.
"A highly sensible foundation," Ysolda agreed. "For the bulk produce and the apples, we must go directly to Carlotta Valentia. She has the freshest, highest quality vegetables in the entire hold, brought in directly from the surrounding farms every morning. As for the salt piles, Belethor will be our man. He hoards preservatives."
"Lead the way," Aerion gestured smoothly.
Ysolda guided him through the bustling throng of the market square, weaving expertly between the shoppers until they arrived at a large, well stocked wooden stall situated beneath a heavy canvas awning.
Standing behind the stall, arranging a beautiful display of bright red apples, was Carlotta Valentia. Standing right beside her, organizing a basket of leeks, was her young daughter, Mila.
Carlotta looked up, wiping her hands on her apron, and offered a bright, welcoming smile. "Ysolda! And Aerion! Good morning to you both. What can I get for you today?"
Before Aerion could speak, little Mila dropped the leek she was holding and immediately scrambled out from behind the wooden counter. She ran right up to Aerion, completely ignoring his towering, intimidating height, and began looking frantically around the hem of his dark robes.
"Where is he?!" Mila demanded, her bright eyes searching the cobblestones. "Where is the little fire dog, I mean fox? Where is Lupin!"
Aerion let out a soft, genuine laugh, kneeling down to look the young girl in the eyes, instantly shedding his aristocratic distance.
"I am afraid Lupin is currently sleeping in front of a very warm fire, Mila," Aerion explained gently. "He did not wish to accompany me into the noisy market this morning. He is a very lazy creature when he wants to be."
Mila's shoulders slumped instantly, a look of profound, heart wrenching dejection crossing her face. "Oh. But... I wanted to give him an apple."
"Mila!" Carlotta scolded gently from behind the stall. "Do not bother the Jarl's guest. I am so sorry, Aerion. She has talked of nothing but your little fox for days."
"It is entirely fine, Carlotta, no apologies necessary," Aerion waved a dismissive hand, standing back up. He looked back down at the little girl. "I promise you, Mila, the very next time I come into the city to visit the market, I will bring Lupin with me, and I will ensure he has plenty of time to play with you."
Mila's face instantly lit up. "Really?! You promise?"
"You have my absolute word," Aerion smiled.
Satisfied with the diplomatic negotiation, Mila scrambled back behind the stall to help her mother.
Carlotta chuckled, shaking her head. "You are too kind to her, Aerion. Now, how can I help you two this morning? You mentioned potatoes, cabbages, and carrots?"
"Indeed," Aerion nodded, shifting back to business. "I require the absolute freshest stock you currently possess."
"Picked before the sun came up," Carlotta beamed proudly. "How many would you like? A basket of each?"
"If your inventory can support it," Aerion stated calmly, "I would like to purchase one medium sized, heavy burlap sack of potatoes, one medium sack of cabbages, one sack of carrots, one sack of raw wheat, and a full sack of your freshest apples."
Carlotta froze. The welcoming smile dropped from her face, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated astonishment. She stared at the High Elf as if he had just asked to purchase the moon.
"A... a medium sack? Of each?" Carlotta stammered, her eyes widening. "Aerion, a medium sack holds nearly fifty pounds of produce! Are you... are you provisioning a battalion of the Jarl's soldiers? That is enough food to feed a tavern for a month!"
Aerion simply offered a mysterious, polite smile. "I have recently acquired a rather large estate outside the city walls, Carlotta. I merely wish to ensure my larder is comprehensively stocked."
Before Carlotta could question the sheer, insane volume of the order any further, Ysolda immediately stepped forward, placing her hands firmly on the wooden counter.
The starry eyed romantic vanished entirely, instantly replaced by the ruthless, calculating Whiterun merchant. This was her element, and she was going to demonstrate her absolute competence.
"That is a massive bulk order, Carlotta," Ysolda began, her voice dropping into a sharp, rapid fire haggling cadence. "Since Aerion is completely clearing out your entire morning inventory of those specific items in a single, guaranteed transaction, saving you the trouble of sitting out here in the sun all day trying to sell them piecemeal, we expect a significant bulk discount on the final price."
Carlotta blinked, recovering from the shock, and immediately fell into her own defensive merchant stance.
"Now hold on a moment, Ysolda," Carlotta countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Bulk order or not, that is premium, farm fresh produce! The farmers in the tundra charge me a heavy premium for early morning delivery. I can't just give it away. For five full sacks, the price is four hundred and fifty septims. And that's me being generous."
"Four hundred and fifty is highway robbery and you know it, Carlotta," Ysolda scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at the vegetables. "The cabbages look slightly bruised from the cart ride, and apples are heavily in season right now, the orchards in Falkreath are practically rotting with them. Three hundred septims for the lot."
"Three hundred?!" Carlotta gasped, looking genuinely offended. "I would be taking a loss! Three hundred and ninety, not a septim less. I have a daughter to feed!"
"Three hundred and forty. And Aerion will pay entirely in pure, minted gold upfront, no barter, no credit ledgers," Ysolda fired back instantly, her eyes flashing with competitive fire.
Aerion stood slightly behind Ysolda, watching the exchange with profound, silent admiration. He loved watching competence in action. The way Ysolda wielded logic, market trends, and raw confidence as weapons was deeply attractive to him.
The two women went back and forth for three solid minutes, their voices rising and falling in the ancient, highly respected dance of Nordic commerce.
Finally, Carlotta let out a heavy sigh, throwing her hands up in defeat.
"Fine! Three hundred and fifty septims," Carlotta conceded, shaking her head. "But you're bleeding me dry, Ysolda."
"Three hundred and fifty is a perfectly equitable margin for both of us, Carlotta, and we both know it," Ysolda smiled brightly, the ruthless negotiator instantly transforming back into the friendly neighbor.
Carlotta leaned over the counter, shooting Ysolda a highly amused, knowing look.
"I have to say, Ysolda," Carlotta teased, her voice lowering slightly. "I have known you for years, and I have never seen you haggle so fiercely. You fight harder for the Elf's coin than you ever did for Hulda's."
Ysolda's face immediately flushed a brilliant shade of red. She averted her eyes, looking quickly over her shoulder at Aerion before staring intently at a basket of tomatoes.
Carlotta laughed softly, completely understanding the dynamic. She didn't press the issue, turning around to begin hauling the heavy burlap sacks of produce from the back of her stall.
Aerion stepped forward, seamlessly reaching into his leather satchel. The digital void provided exactly what he needed. He pulled out a heavy, jingling pouch filled with exactly 350 gold coins and placed it firmly on the wooden counter.
Carlotta dragged the five heavy sacks to the front of the stall. She picked up the heavy gold pouch, testing the weight with a satisfied nod, and dropped it into her secure lockbox.
"The produce is yours, Aerion," Carlotta smiled. "Though how you plan to carry all of this back is beyond me."
"I am stronger than I appear," Aerion replied smoothly. "However, if you would be so kind as to hold these sacks here for just a few moments, we must make a quick stop at Belethor's to secure the salt."
"Take your time," Carlotta nodded, moving to help Mila organize the remaining apples.
Aerion and Ysolda turned away from the produce stall, walking across the market square toward the sturdy wooden building that housed Belethor's General Goods.
They pushed open the door, the small bell chiming loudly.
The interior of the shop was a chaotic, disorganized nightmare of miscellaneous inventory. Weapons, armor, old books, plates, and bizarre curiosities were stacked haphazardly on every available surface.
Standing behind the counter, rubbing his hands together with a sleazy, overly eager grin, was the Breton merchant, Belethor.
"Welcome, welcome!" Belethor practically purred as they entered. "Everything's for sale, my friends! Everything! If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second! What can I help you find today? Looking for a sword? A trinket? An ancient spell tome?"
"Salt," Aerion stated flatly, entirely immune to the Breton's eccentric sales pitch. "I require a small sack of pure, refined salt pile."
Belethor's eager grin didn't falter. "Ah, the spice of life! You have come to the perfect place. I just received a shipment from the salt mines of Dawnstar."
Belethor ducked beneath the counter, rummaging through the chaotic mess for a moment before producing a tightly bound, small burlap sack that reeked of brine. He slammed it onto the wood.
"Fifty septims," Belethor declared, skipping the haggling phase entirely.
Aerion didn't bother deploying Ysolda for such a trivial amount. He reached into his satchel, producing a small pouch of fifty coins, and handed it to the Breton.
"A pleasure doing business!" Belethor chimed as Aerion easily picked up the heavy sack of salt.
They exited the musty confines of the general store, stepping back out into the bright, crisp sunlight of the market square.
The primary objectives of their procurement mission were complete, but Aerion had absolutely no desire to end the excursion prematurely. He turned to Ysolda, gesturing toward the various other stalls lining the square.
"We have secured the necessities," Aerion began, his voice dropping into a softer, highly charming register. "However, I find myself in no immediate rush to return to the road. Would you care to simply walk the market with me for a while? Show me the wares you find interesting?"
Ysolda's eyes brightened. The invitation was a clear, unmistakable escalation of their new, exploratory dynamic. It was no longer a business trip, it was a courtship stroll.
"I would love nothing more, Aerion," Ysolda smiled happily.
For the next half hour, they simply wandered. They walked side by side, their arms occasionally, deliberately brushing against one another as they navigated the crowds. The physical proximity sent a highly pleasant, electric tension through the air between them.
Ysolda proved to be an excellent, incredibly knowledgeable guide. She led him to a stall selling fine fabrics, expertly explaining the difference in weave between Imperial silk and Nordic linen. She pointed out a jeweler, criticizing the sloppy setting of a silver ring with the sharp eye of a seasoned appraiser.
Aerion listened intently, occasionally asking pointed questions, deeply enjoying the sheer, unadulterated competence she radiated. In his past life, he had spent his time isolated behind a screen.
Now, walking through a living, breathing fantasy market with a brilliant, beautiful woman actively vying for his affection, he felt a profound, grounding sense of reality.
When the sun began to climb higher into the sky, signaling the approach of noon, Aerion finally sighed.
"As much as I loathe to end this stroll, the estate requires its provisions, and I have a vast amount of construction to oversee," Aerion noted, offering her an apologetic smile.
"Duty calls," Ysolda agreed, though a hint of disappointment colored her voice. "We should call for your friend."
They walked back toward the Bannered Mare. As they pushed the heavy doors open, they immediately spotted Jenassa. The Dark Elf assassin was sitting quietly at a corner table, wiping the last remnants of a hearty venison stew from her bowl with a piece of bread.
"Jenassa," Aerion called out, approaching the table. "Our procurement is complete. It is time to return to the homestead."
Jenassa swallowed the bread, offering a crisp, professional nod without saying a single word about their extended absence. She stood up, checking the straps of her weapons, and followed them out of the tavern.
The trio marched back into the market square, heading directly for Carlotta's stall where the massive, imposing pile of medium burlap sacks was waiting.
"Right then," Aerion assessed the logistics.
He didn't bother using magic to levitate the goods, preferring to maintain his cover as a physically capable warrior mage. He stepped forward, grabbing the thick linen ties of the sacks.
With effortless, terrifying physical strength fueled by his hugh Stamina stats, Aerion hoisted the massive sack of potatoes over his left shoulder, the sack of cabbages over his right, and casually gripped the heavy sack of wheat with his free hand.
Jenassa, possessing her own hardened mercenary strength, stepped up and hoisted the sack of carrots and the sack of apples over her armored shoulders.
Ysolda, eager to contribute, picked up the smaller, but still incredibly dense, sack of salt they had purchased from Belethor.
"A heavily burdened caravan," Aerion chuckled, adjusting the massive weight on his shoulders as if he were carrying pillows.
Together, the three of them walked away from the market stalls. They marched down the tiered, cobblestone streets of the Plains District, passing the guards at the main gate, and exited the city.
They walked down the sloping ramp toward the Whiterun Stables.
Skulvar Sable-Hilt was waiting for them. Seeing the massive haul of produce, the stablemaster immediately rushed forward to help.
"By the Eight, elf, you're stocking up for a war!" Skulvar grunted, helping Jenassa tie her two heavy sacks to the rear saddlebags of her sturdy bay horse.
"Merely preparing for the winter, Skulvar," Aerion replied smoothly.
Aerion tied the massive sacks of potatoes, cabbages, and wheat securely to the incredibly strong, reinforced saddle of his black destrier, Revan. The massive warhorse didn't even flinch under the added weight.
With the cargo secured, it was time to mount up. But there was a logistical reality they had to address. They had three riders, but only two horses, as Ysolda had walked from the inn.
Aerion turned to the Nord woman.
"It seems we are short a mount, Ysolda," Aerion smiled, gesturing toward the towering black stallion. "If you do not mind sharing, Revan is more than capable of carrying us both."
Ysolda's heart executed a rapid, highly fluttery sequence in her chest. The prospect of riding out into the open plains, pressed tightly against the back of the powerful High Elf, was thrilling.
"I... I do not mind at all," Ysolda agreed, her cheeks flushing slightly as she handed the sack of salt up to him.
Aerion secured the salt, then effortlessly swung his long legs over the saddle, taking the reins. He reached down, offering his hand to Ysolda.
She took it. With a swift, powerful pull, Aerion hoisted her up onto the back of the massive destrier, seating her securely on the padded leather directly behind him.
"Hold on tight," Aerion instructed, his voice a low, melodic hum.
Ysolda didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms firmly around Aerion's waist, her hands resting flat against the thick, dark fabric of his robes. She could feel the dense, terrifyingly solid musculature of his back, radiating an incredible, comforting warmth.
Jenassa swung onto her own heavily burdened horse, taking the lead.
With a sharp click of his tongue, Aerion spurred Revan forward.
They rode out onto the cobblestone trade route, heading east. The steady, rhythmic thundering of the hooves against the road was a soothing backdrop. The crisp, cool wind of the tundra whipped past them, carrying the scent of golden grass and distant pine.
Ysolda rested the side of her face gently against Aerion's broad back, closing her eyes and allowing herself to simply enjoy the ride. It was an incredibly intimate, peaceful moment, far removed from the ledgers of the Bannered Mare or the blood soaked ruins of the Pale.
They rode for just over ten minutes, navigating the gentle curves of the road and crossing the stone bridge over the White River, until the magnificent, sturdy architecture of the Tundra Homestead finally came into view. "We have arrived," Aerion announced, pulling the reins and bringing the massive warhorse to a halt in the packed-dirt clearing before the house.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 420/420 Stamina: 400/400 Magicka: 570/570
Level: 99
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 66), 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, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Dragonstone, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, The Mirror, Glass Sword, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, 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: 74.39KG / 500 KG
Septims: 78,379