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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"The sooner we march into that temple, burn away her necrotic shadows, and place her artifact upon its pedestal," Aerion concluded, his voice hard as iron, "the sooner Meridia will consider the contract fulfilled and turn her blinding light elsewhere. We are going to sever the leash before she even realizes it is tied."
Jenassa listened intently as the High Elf outlined his cold, pragmatic logic regarding the Daedric Prince. The flickering light of the hearth fire danced across her scarred, ash-gray features, illuminating the deep frown lines etched into her forehead.
She slowly nodded her head, the heavy weight of the realization settling over her shoulders.
She had not been the one to physically touch the glowing, geometric orb. She had not heard the blinding, deafening voice of the goddess echo in her skull.
But she was Aerion's sworn shadow, bound by contract and a growing mutual respect to stand by his side. If the searing, uncompromising gaze of Meridia, the Princess of Light, was fixed upon her Patron, then by proximity, Jenassa was also standing directly in the crosshairs of Oblivion.
It was a reality that caused a severe, pulsing ache behind the Dark Elf's eyes. The Daedric Princes were not forces to be trifled with, ignored, or bartered against. They were cosmic inevitabilities.
"Your logic is flawless, Patron, even if the reality is a nightmare," Jenassa agreed, her gravelly voice tight with an underlying, cultural apprehension of the divine. "A Daedric Prince is not a mortal creditor. We cannot simply lock the gates of the homestead and pretend we are not home when her Purified minions come knocking. If fulfilling this mandate is the only way to sever the leash and blind her gaze to our true operations, then I fully support the decision. The sooner we dispose of that cursed beacon in her temple, the better I will sleep."
Aerion offered a smooth, reassuring smile, stepping closer to the hearth to let the warmth wash over his dark robes.
"You do not need to worry overly much, Jenassa," Aerion comforted her, his melodic voice projecting absolute, unshakeable confidence. "While Meridia is universally renowned for her blinding arrogance, her absolute, terrifying extremism, and her general loathing of mortal free will... she is also uniquely patient, so long as her designated 'instrument' remains compliant. We have the luxury of time to secure our earthly foundations before we ascend her mountain."
Jenassa let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly as she accepted the inevitable march toward Mount Kilkreath. "I will prepare my blades for shadows and corrupted shades, then."
With the tactical doctrine officially established and their next major objective locked into his mental ledger, the immediate pace of Aerion's life slowed to a highly necessary, deliberate crawl.
The sprawling, ambitious blueprints he had drafted required raw materials to manifest into reality. Team One had successfully delivered the timber. Team Three had delivered the iron fittings and the carpenter's tools. But the entire project was currently entirely landlocked, waiting on the heavy, foundational bedrock.
They simply had to wait for Team Two.
For two full days, the Tundra Homestead served as a quiet, heavily guarded sanctuary. Aerion utilized the downtime to meticulously organize his arcane laboratory, sorting his newly acquired alchemy ingredients and meditating to stabilize his massively expanded Magicka pathways.
Outside, Sinmir and the available mercenaries rotated highly disciplined patrols, ensuring the perimeter remained completely secure from wandering Sabre Cats or ambitious bandits.
Finally, late in the afternoon of the second day, the heavy, grinding, earth shaking rumble of massive wooden wheels announced their arrival.
Approaching the homestead from the western trade road were three massive, reinforced quarry carts, pulled by straining, heavily lathered draft horses.
Marching alongside the carts, completely covered from head to toe in a thick, choking layer of fine white stone dust, were Titus the Imperial, Rashid the Redguard, and Haldir the Nord.
Aerion stepped out onto the front porch, Jenassa flanking him, as the massive carts pulled into the dirt clearing.
"Report, Titus," Aerion called out, descending the wooden steps.
Titus Varr offered a weary, dust choked salute, coughing into his gauntlet before speaking.
"The mission is complete, Patron," the Imperial veteran announced, gesturing to the staggering volume of raw, expertly cut gray quarry stone piled high on the reinforced axles. "We scoured the masons and the local quarries bordering the Reach. We secured enough stone to build several large buildings."
Titus reached to his belt, pulling out an entirely flat, empty leather coin purse, and held it up with a grimace.
"However, the quarry foremen are ruthless negotiators, sir," Titus admitted. "When they saw the sheer, unprecedented volume we required, they completely refused to budge on the premium pricing. We spent every single Money of the fifteen hundred septims you allocated. There is absolutely no leftover gold."
Aerion waved a dismissive, elegant hand, entirely unbothered by the lack of change. The sheer volume of the physical assets now resting in his front yard vastly outweighed the raw currency.
"The stone is here, Titus. That is the only metric of success that matters," Aerion praised, looking over the exhausted men. "Excellent work, all of you. Wash the dust from your throats at the farm and take the evening to recover."
With the final, vital piece of the logistical puzzle officially secured, Aerion wasted absolutely no time.
Early the next morning, as the crisp, freezing dew still clung to the golden grass of the tundra, Aerion summoned Captain Sinmir and the mercenaries.
Aerion led the hulking Nord commander around the side of the homestead, walking out into the vast, sprawling, flat expanse of the plains directly behind the main house. The wind whipped across the open space, smelling of frost and distant pine.
"This is the epicenter of our future, Captain," Aerion declared, his voice cutting through the morning wind.
Aerion spent the next two hours actively surveying the land. He didn't rely on magic, he used physical, undeniable markers. He directed Uthgerd and Valdar to carry heavy, sharpened pine logs out into the plains.
Using his impeccable spatial awareness, Aerion dictated the exact, sprawling dimensions of the primary mammoth enclosure.
With heavy, echoing strikes from a blacksmith's hammer, the mercenaries drove the logs deep into the fertile earth, marking the absolute corners of a massive, multi acre pen that would soon be enclosed by unbreakable palisades and deep stone foundations.
Once the massive perimeter was staked out, Aerion pulled the leather bound journal from his inventory through his robes.
He handed the book directly to Captain Sinmir.
"Inside this journal are the complete, finalized schematics for the entire estate," Aerion instructed, his tone shifting into the uncompromising cadence of a general handing over command. "The precise locations of the two storehouses, the location of the barracks, the placement of the bee apiary, and the layout of the exterior forge. It is all documented."
Sinmir took the heavy journal, his calloused hands gripping the leather respectfully.
"I am officially transferring operational oversight of this construction project to you, Sinmir," Aerion declared. "You are the overseer. You will coordinate the laborers, manage the timber and the stone, and ensure that every single structure is erected exactly according to my specifications. If a wall is crooked, or a palisade is weak, I will hold you personally accountable."
Sinmir straightened his posture, puffing out his massive chest. He thrived on command and structured responsibility. "You have my absolute word, boss. When you return, this homestead will be a fortified, fully operational compound. The men know what is expected of them."
"See that they do," Aerion nodded firmly.
With the massive construction project fully delegated and the raw materials secured, Aerion was finally free to address the glowing, geometric ticking time bomb resting in his spatial void.
Aerion walked back into the homestead, finding Jenassa in the kitchen area.
"We ride for Mount Kilkreath within the hour," Aerion announced. "Pack the necessary provisions. The journey to the northern coast of Haafingar will take several days of hard riding."
Jenassa immediately set to work. From the massive bulk supplies they had purchased the previous day in Whiterun, and also some that she have gone out today to buy under Aerion's order to stock as well which resukte in 200 septims paid by Aerion, she meticulously prepared travel ready rations.
She wrapped heavily salted venison, thick wedges of hard goat cheese, and several fresh apples in waxed linen to prevent spoiling. She filled three large, reinforced leather waterskins with fresh, cold water from the well, and packed two bottles of dark, potent ale.
"The provisions are ready, Patron," Jenassa reported, gesturing to the sturdy leather rucksack resting on the wooden counter.
Aerion reached into his satchel, producing a small stack of gold. To account for the raw materials drawn from their bulk stock, and the specific preservation materials used, he internally deducted the cost of the travel supplies from his ledger.
He reached out, touching the heavy leather rucksack, and allowed his digital void to instantly absorb the burden.
[Item Acquired: Travel Provisions (Food & Drink)]
[Inventory Weight Increased by 0.25 KG]
"Then let us depart," Aerion stated.
He scooped up Lupin from the hearth. The fox let out a sleepy, confused yip as he was tucked securely into the custom padded front saddlebag of the black destrier outside.
Aerion swung up onto Revan's back, pulling his heavy, dark traveling cloak tight against the morning chill. Jenassa mounted her bay horse beside him, her crimson eyes scanning the horizon.
They did not ride east toward the safety of the capital. They turned their horses west, facing the vast, untamed expanse of the tundra.
With a sharp flick of the reins, they spurred their mounts forward, leaving the loud, chaotic sounds of the mercenary construction crew behind them.
The initial leg of the journey was a smooth, rapid gallop across the familiar, golden plains of the Whiterun hold. Aerion kept his internal systemic map active in the corner of his vision, a glowing, omniscient compass ensuring they maintained the optimal trajectory toward the distant Statue of Meridia.
They followed the primary, packed dirt western trade road. Within the first hour, the ruined, lonely stone spire of the Western Watchtower loomed on their left, a grim reminder of the ancient dragon threat that Aerion fully intended to manipulate later.
They continued their hard ride, the horses eating up the miles with powerful, rhythmic strides.
Soon, the massive, imposing, and heavily decayed stone walls of Fort Greymoor appeared on the horizon, blocking the main pass. Knowing the fort was perpetually contested territory, currently occupied by a large group of bandits that made the fort their base, Aerion led them on a wide, sweeping detour around the crumbling fortifications, entirely bypassing the unnecessary conflict.
As they rode past the fort, the topography of the land began to shift dramatically. The flat, endless golden oceans of the tundra slowly gave way to the rolling, rocky foothills that marked the sprawling borders of the Reach and the deep southern valleys.
They followed the winding road as it curved sharply to the left, entering a heavily forested, shadowed gorge.
"Keep your eyes sharp, Jenassa," Aerion warned softly, the dense canopy of ancient pine trees blocking out the midday sun.
They rode in tense silence past the hidden, overgrown entrance to Bloated Man's Grotto. The air here smelled heavily of damp earth and wild magic. Further down the winding path, the jagged, unmistakable maw of Broken Fang Cave loomed in the rocky cliffs to their right.
Aerion knew the cave was a notorious den of bloodthirsty vampires, and he pushed Revan into a faster trot, having no desire to deal with the undead bloodsuckers while carrying a Daedric Beacon of light.
Eventually, the claustrophobic, shadowed valley opened back up, spilling them out onto a vast, wind blasted, rocky plain.
Dominating the center of the desolate expanse, reaching toward the sky like a grasping stone hand, was the ancient, weathered monolith of Gjukar's Monument. They rode past the towering stone to their far right, the wind howling mournfully across the open ground.
After several more hours of relentless, grueling riding, the harsh, rocky terrain began to soften into fertile, terraced farmland.
Nestled quietly in the isolated, sweeping basin was the farming community of Rorikstead.
Aerion pulled Revan to a halt on the ridge overlooking the small, rustic village. He checked the angle of the sun. It had already passed the zenith and was beginning its long, slow descent toward the western mountains. It was well past noon.
"We could stop here, Patron," Jenassa suggested, her horse panting softly beneath her. "Frostfruit Inn is warm, and the horses could use the rest."
Aerion calculated the distances on his systemic map, weighing the exhaustion against the operational timeline. If they stopped now, they would lose half a day of travel.
"The hour is still young enough, Jenassa," Aerion decided, his voice firm. "I have no desire to camp in the frozen wilderness of Haafingar if we get caught on the road tomorrow. We will push the horses. We continue riding north, straight through the borders of the Reach. We will make for Dragon Bridge and secure lodging there."
Jenassa didn't complain. She merely tightened her grip on the reins and nodded. "As you command."
They spurred their horses into a heavy canter, bypassing the quiet houses of Rorikstead entirely and pressing onward.
The road north from the village was treacherous, winding its way into the steep, rocky crags that defined the bloody, war torn hold of the Reach.
After an hour of hard riding, the road narrowed violently, funneling them onto an ancient, highly defensible stone bridge that crossed a roaring, white water river. They had reached Robber's Gorge. The towering wooden palisades and the elevated archer platforms of the notorious bandit camp loomed ominously over the bridge.
However, the sheer, terrifying aura of a towering, dark robed High Elf riding a massive black warhorse, flanked by a heavily armed Dark Elf assassin, proved to be an incredibly effective deterrent. If the bandits were watching from the cliffs, they wisely chose to keep their arrows nocked and remain entirely hidden in the shadows.
Aerion and Jenassa crossed the bridge completely unmolested.
They continued following the winding, treacherous northern road as the sun began to dip below the towering peaks, casting long, dark, and freezing shadows across the valleys.
They rode past the towering, ruined stone arches of Forebears' Holdout, the ancient architecture standing as a silent testament to fallen empires.
The temperature dropped drastically as they officially crossed the border into the northern hold of Haafingar. The air lost the scent of dirt and took on the sharp, biting smell of alpine pine and glacial ice.
Finally, as the last rays of the sun vanished and the brilliant, starry blanket of the night sky unfolded above them, the unmistakable, legendary architecture of their destination appeared in the gloom.
Spanning a massive, dizzying chasm over the raging Karth River was an ancient, breathtaking stone bridge. Carved directly into the center of the masonry, its massive stone jaws open in a permanent, silent roar, was the relief of an enormous dragon skull.
They rode slowly across the Dragon Bridge, the hooves of their exhausted mounts echoing heavily over the roaring waters far below.
They entered the small, heavily militarized village situated at the end of the bridge. The settlement was quiet, the residents having already retreated into the warmth of their homes to escape the biting northern chill.
Aerion guided Revan toward the largest building in the village, a sturdy, sprawling wooden structure emitting a warm, inviting glow from its windows.
The wooden sign hanging above the door read, The Four Shields Tavern.
Aerion and Jenassa dismounted, their legs stiff from the grueling, twelve hour ride. They hitched their exhausted horses to the sturdy wooden posts outside, ensuring the animals had access to the water troughs, before walking heavily up the wooden steps.
Aerion pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the rustic, fire lit interior.
The Four Shields was not nearly as loud or chaotic as the Bannered Mare. It catered to weary travelers, Imperial couriers, and merchants navigating the dangerous northern passes.
The room was sparsely populated, but highly diverse. Aerion spotted a rugged Nord trader, a sharply dressed Imperial courier, a quiet Wood Elf sitting in the corner, and a pair of Breton scholars nursing flagons of mead near the hearth.
Standing behind the simple wooden bar counter was the proprietor, a sturdy, no nonsense Nord woman named Faida.
Faida looked up from wiping down a tankard as the imposing High Elf and the heavily armed Dark Elf approached her counter.
"Welcome to the Four Shields," Faida greeted, her voice carrying the rough, practical hospitality of the north. "Looks like you two have been riding hard. What can I get for you? Drink? A hot meal? Or just a bed to collapse in?"
Aerion reached into his robes, utilizing his void. He pulled a small stack of gold coins into his palm and placed them on the wooden counter with a soft clink.
"All of the above, my good woman," Aerion replied smoothly, exhaustion pulling slightly at his melodic voice. "We require two private rooms for the night."
Faida quickly scooped up the gold, counting it with practiced ease.
"Two rooms it is," Faida nodded, reaching beneath the counter and producing two heavy iron keys. She slid them across the wood. "To the left there, first and second doors on the right. Now, what about that food?"
Aerion calculated the immense caloric deficit they had built up over the ride.
"We require three large, hot servings of your finest roasted meat," Aerion ordered, glancing down at the saddlebag where Lupin was currently stirring hungrily. "And two bottles of your best Alto Wine to wash the dust from our throats."
Faida did the mental math instantly. "Three roasts and two bottles of Alto... that will be twenty eight septims."
Aerion produced the remaining gold, sliding it across the counter.
"Have a seat anywhere you like," Faida instructed, pocketing the coin. "I'll bring the food out straight from the spit."
Aerion and Jenassa found an empty, sturdy wooden table near the roaring hearth fire. They collapsed into the chairs, the radiant heat feeling incredibly soothing against their chilled bones. Aerion unclasped the saddlebag, setting Lupin down on the floorboards.
The food arrived quickly. Faida delivered three massive wooden platters piled high with thick, sizzling cuts of roasted beef, completely drowning in savory gravy, accompanied by two dusty, dark glass bottles of premium Alto Wine.
They ate in deeply satisfied silence. Aerion cut a massive portion of his roasted meat, placing it on a small wooden plate on the floor for Lupin. The little fox devoured the high quality beef with terrifying, savage speed, letting out happy, muffled trills between bites.
Once the massive platters were entirely clean and the wine bottles were empty, the sheer, crushing weight of the day's travel finally caught up to them.
Without a word, Aerion and Jenassa stood up, collected their keys, and ascended the wooden stairs. They entered their respective, simple rooms. Aerion didn't even bother removing his dark robes. He simply unbuckled the Black Prism from his hip, laid it on the bedside table, and collapsed onto the heavy woolen blankets.
He was asleep before his head fully settled into the pillow.
The next morning, Aerion was violently awakened from a deep, dreamless sleep by the sensation of something incredibly wet, rough, and persistent aggressively scrubbing against his cheek.
Aerion groaned, his golden eyes snapping open.
Sitting directly on his chest, staring down at him with bright, demanding eyes, was Lupin. The little cinnamon fox leaned forward, swiping his wet tongue across the High Elf's nose again, letting out a sharp, impatient yip.
'Wake up! Sun is up! Time to move!'
Aerion let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, gently placing a large hand against the fox's chest and physically moving the animal off his body and onto the mattress.
"I am awake, you insufferable, demanding creature," Aerion scolded gently, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "There is absolutely no need for a sandpaper bath before dawn."
Lupin simply wagged his tail, trotting to the wooden door and scratching at the baseboards.
Aerion stood up, splashing his face with the freezing water from the washbasin, and quickly secured the Black Prism back to his hip. He smoothed his dark robes, ensuring his aristocratic, imposing image was flawless, and stepped out of the room.
Jenassa was already waiting for him in the narrow hallway, her crimson eyes alert and her weapons securely fastened.
They descended the stairs into the quiet taproom. Faida was busy sweeping the floorboards. Aerion placed the two heavy iron keys gently onto the bar counter with a polite nod of thanks, and they exited the tavern.
Stepping out into the crisp, freezing morning air of Haafingar, the village of Dragon Bridge was already bustling with early morning activity. Guards patrolled the perimeter, and merchants were loading their carts.
Aerion and Jenassa walked over to the hitching posts, untying their rested mounts.
As Aerion swung his towering frame up into the massive saddle of the black destrier, he noticed the lingering, wide eyed stares of the local villagers. A high born Altmer mage riding a warhorse was an incredibly rare, highly intimidating sight in this isolated northern outpost.
Aerion ignored the stares entirely. He tucked Lupin into the saddlebag and pulled the reins tight.
"We ride north," Aerion commanded.
They left the village behind, their horses trotting at a steady, ground eating pace along the winding, ascending mountain road.
The landscape here was breathtakingly rugged. Towering, ancient pine trees lined the road, their dark green needles contrasting sharply with the pristine, white snow that capped the surrounding mountain peaks. The air was incredibly thin and freezing, biting at any exposed skin.
They rode for nearly an hour, navigating the steep, winding switchbacks of the mountain pass.
Suddenly, as they cleared a dense grove of towering pines, the trees fell away, revealing the apex of the mountain.
Jenassa pulled her horse to a sudden halt, a sharp, involuntary gasp escaping her lips.
Aerion stopped Revan beside her, his golden eyes locking onto the horizon.
Towering over the entire mountain range, utterly dwarfing the surrounding pines, was the magnificent, breathtaking, and deeply terrifying Statue of Meridia.
It was a colossal monument carved from pale, pristine stone. The Daedric Prince was depicted standing tall, her arms outstretched toward the heavens, holding a massive, empty stone pedestal in her hands. The sheer scale of the architecture was staggering, a blinding testament to the arrogance and the power of the Princess of Light.
"By the Ancestors..." Jenassa whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she stared up at the face of the goddess. "It is massive."
"It is a monument to an ego that spans dimensions," Aerion corrected coldly, feeling the heavy weight of the Beacon pulsing in his spatial void.
They slowly rode their horses forward, approaching the base of the massive mountain.
Carved directly into the side of the rocky cliff face was a long, incredibly steep flight of ancient stone stairs, leading upward toward the towering statue and the entrance of the Kilkreath Temple hidden beneath it.
Aerion and Jenassa dismounted, securing their horses to a pair of sturdy, weather beaten pine trees at the base of the mountain. The beasts would not follow them into the presence of the divine.
As Aerion turned to face the daunting climb, his golden eyes instinctively swept the surrounding, snow dusted terrain, his gamer's paranoia searching for hidden threats or valuable loot.
He looked several hundred meters to the north, past the base of the grand staircase, toward a secluded, rocky outcropping.
His eyes locked onto a massive, curved structure of dark, weathered stone jutting out from the snow.
Even from this distance, Aerion could see the faint, huge, stone wall in the distance with his eyes. He could almost hear the low, ancient chanting of the dragons carried on the freezing wind.
Aerion froze, a sudden, hungry smile breaking across his face.
"Well now," Aerion murmured, his eyes locked onto the ancient monument.
"Patron?" Jenassa asked, noting his sudden shift in focus. "What do you see?"
"Before we ascend to grovel before the Princess of Light, Jenassa," Aerion stated, turning his boots purposefully toward the north, his voice ringing with absolute, undeniable greed. "It appears the ancient Nords left a vastly more interesting, vastly more powerful prize resting in the snow. Follow me. We have a Word Wall to see."
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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, & Travel Provisions (Food & Drink)
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: 74.64 KG / 500 KG
Septims: 78,231