If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Aerion looked down at the legendary Daedric artifact humming in his hand, a highly satisfied, arrogant smirk touching the corner of his lips. "The Princess of Light is a deeply theatrical entity, Jenassa," Aerion replied smoothly, turning the flawless blade to catch the sun. "She apparently felt that making us walk all the way back out through the crypts was beneath the dignity of her new champion."
Jenassa stood frozen in the ankle-deep snow at the base of the colossal statue, her crimson eyes locked onto the blinding, flawless Daedric artifact resting comfortably in Aerion's right hand.
She had initially nodded her head in slow, stunned agreement as Aerion smoothly explained the sudden, impossible teleportation. The Daedric Princes were indeed known for their theatrical flair.
But then, her sharp, highly trained mind finally caught up with the specific terminology he had just casually employed.
Champion. The word echoed in her skull like a tolling bell. Jenassa's posture stiffened entirely. She turned to fully face him, the cold wind whipping her dark hair across her ash gray face.
"Wait," Jenassa demanded, her gravelly voice suddenly tight with genuine, profound apprehension. "What exactly do you mean by champion, Patron? Why would the Princess of Light refer to you in such a manner?"
She looked from his calm, aristocratic face down to the pulsing, sun like aura of the Dawnbreaker, and the terrifying realization clicked into place.
"Unless..." Jenassa swallowed hard, taking a half-step backward. "Unless you actually agreed to her terms. Did you decide to become her chosen champion and swear to spread her religion across the province? Patron, why in the name of the Ancestors would you do such a thing? Did we not march into that cursed, freezing temple for the express, specific purpose of escaping the gaze of the Princess of Light? Binding yourself to her will only draw a permanent, blazing target on your back!"
Aerion did not bristle at her questioning. He didn't blame her in the slightest for her visceral reaction. As a Dunmer from Morrowind, Jenassa was deeply entrenched in the complex, often terrifying theology of Daedra worship.
She revered Azura, the Goddess of Dusk and Dawn. To a dark elf, drawing the focused attention of even one Daedric Prince was a massive, soul crushing burden. The prospect of her employer casually inviting the scrutiny of a second, highly fanatical Prince was a terrifying operational hazard.
Aerion offered a calm, entirely reassuring smile. He opened his digital interface.
With a soft shimmer of displaced light, the massive, glowing Dawnbreaker vanished from his physical grip, absorbed securely into his spatial void.
[Item Acquired: Dawnbreaker]
[Inventory Weight Increased by 1.00 KG. Current Weight: 74.92 / 500 KG]
The sudden absence of the blinding holy light immediately returned the natural, dim twilight to the snowy mountain peak.
"Peace, Jenassa," Aerion murmured soothingly, stepping toward her. "You are jumping to a religious conclusion that I explicitly rejected. Technically, yes, by accepting the blade, I have officially assumed the mantle of her champion. But at the exact same time, I explicitly, directly refused to spread her religion in any shape or form. I told her I would not preach her name, and she ultimately accepted those terms."
He crossed his arms, his golden eyes reflecting the setting sun.
"I am merely the wielder, the vault, for the Dawnbreaker," Aerion explained, his tone shifting to cold, pragmatic logic. "I could not simply leave an artifact of such staggering, apocalyptic power resting on an undefended pedestal in an empty tomb. It would only be a matter of time before another rogue Necromancer, or worse, the Thalmor, discovered it and weaponized it. By taking it, I secure a massive tactical asset."
Jenassa listened, her tense shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch, though she still looked deeply skeptical.
"Furthermore," Aerion continued, his eyes gleaming with scholarly ambition. "This blade is not just a weapon, it is a battery. It contains the absolute, purest essence of divine light. I intend to take this opportunity to deeply study the sword. If I can reverse engineer the power stored inside its matrix, I could potentially synthesize entirely new forms of purifying magic. I could create an autonomous, permanent ward that repels the dead from the boundaries of our estate."
He reached out, lightly placing a reassuring hand on her armored shoulder.
"Yes, Meridia will undoubtedly be keeping a peripheral eye on us now," Aerion conceded. "But do not worry. She will not actively meddle in our affairs. And if the time ever comes when she demands an accounting, it will be my soul that is judged, not yours. You are merely my shadow. The burden of this artifact falls entirely upon me."
Jenassa let out a long, heavy, highly conflicted sigh. Her breath plumed in the freezing air as she looked up at the towering, silent face of the stone goddess above them.
She knew she couldn't change his mind. When the Patron decided an asset was valuable, he claimed it with terrifying absolute authority. She had to admit, having a weapon that could vaporize the undead on contact was a massive advantage. But she still dreaded the cosmic implications.
"As you say, Patron," Jenassa relented, shaking her head. "I simply prefer to keep my distance from the divine. One Daedric Prince is enough of a headache for a lifetime."
"A highly practical philosophy," Aerion agreed smoothly.
With the theological debate concluded, Aerion turned his attention to their immediate physical reality.
He looked up at the sky. The brilliant blue of the afternoon had already bled into a deep, bruising purple and vibrant orange. The sun was rapidly sinking below the jagged western peaks of the Reach, casting long, freezing shadows across the snow.
"The day is entirely spent," Aerion noted, feeling the lingering exhaustion of the massive magical expenditure in his bones. "We cannot ride all the way back to the Whiterun tundra in the dark. The mountain passes are too treacherous. We will return to the Four Shields Tavern in Dragon Bridge, consume our packed provisions, and rest for the night. We will begin the long ride home at first light."
"Agreed," Jenassa nodded, eager to get off the haunted mountain.
They walked back down the rocky slope to where they had hitched their mounts to the weather beaten pines.
Aerion reached into his spatial void, materializing the heavy leather bag of Travel Provisions he had packed earlier that morning. He handed the bag directly to Jenassa, who tied it securely to the saddle horn of her bay horse.
Aerion scooped up Lupin, who had been busy trying to dig a hole in a snowbank, and tucked the protesting fox into the front saddlebag of the black destrier.
They mounted up and spurred their horses down the winding, descending mountain pass. They retraced their exact route, following the ancient stone path away from the Statue of Meridia, leaving the silent, ash filled Kilkreath Temple behind them.
The ride down the mountain was bitterly cold, the temperature plummeting as the sun completely vanished. By the time the massive, dragon skull architecture of the ancient stone bridge came into view, the sky was a blanket of brilliant, freezing stars.
They rode across the Dragon Bridge, the hooves echoing loudly over the rushing Karth River below, and pulled into the quiet, lantern lit village.
They stopped in front of the Four Shields Tavern, quickly hitching their exhausted horses to the wooden posts and ensuring the animals had fresh hay and water.
Aerion pushed the heavy tavern doors open. The interior was a wave of glorious, roaring heat and the smell of woodsmoke. The tavern was slightly more crowded tonight, filled with traveling merchants and off duty Imperial guards seeking refuge from the northern chill.
Aerion walked directly to the wooden bar counter. Faida, the sturdy Nord proprietor, looked up and offered a warm, highly recognizable smile.
Aerion reached into his robes, seamlessly pulling exactly twenty gold pieces from his digital ledger.
He placed the stack of coins on the polished wood. "Two private rooms for the night, please."
Faida scooped up the coin with a practiced sweep of her hand. "Well now! You and your friend decided to stay with us again after a long day of adventuring out in the cold, aye? Smart choice. The roads past the bridge are crawling with Forsworn at night."
Aerion offered a polite, weary smile. "Indeed. The warmth of your establishment is deeply appreciated."
Faida reached beneath the counter and slid two heavy iron keys across the wood. "Same rooms as yesterday. Top of the stairs."
"My thanks," Aerion nodded, taking the keys.
He turned and walked over to a quiet, empty table in the far corner of the tavern, near the roaring hearth fire, where Jenassa had already claimed seats.
They didn't bother ordering from Faida's kitchen. Jenassa untied the leather provisions bag and laid out their packed meal.
They ate in companionable, exhausted silence, tearing into the heavily salted venison and thick wedges of hard goat cheese, washing the dry rations down with the dark, potent ale they had brought from the homestead. Aerion slipped several large pieces of venison under the table for Lupin, who devoured them with his usual terrifying speed.
Once the provisions were entirely consumed, the sheer, crushing weight of the day's physical and magical exertion hit them like a falling portcullis. Surviving a multi stage boss fight against a master Necromancer took a profound toll.
Without exchanging a word, they stood up, grabbed their respective keys, and slowly ascended the wooden stairs.
Aerion entered his private room, locking the door behind him. The space was simple, dominated by a sturdy wooden bed covered in thick woolen blankets.
He didn't collapse immediately. He sat on the edge of the mattress, shrugging off his heavy, dark traveling cloak. He closed his eyes, centering his mind, and finally allowed himself to process the massive backlog of systemic notifications that had been queuing in his peripheral vision during the chaotic battle in the catacombs.
The golden text cascaded rapidly across his mind's eye, detailing the phenomenal growth his matrices had undergone.
[Restoration (Purify)(+1) Leveled Up 20 Times! Current Level: 56]
[Restoration (Healing) Leveled Up 7 Times! Current Level: 83]
[Destruction (Lightning) Leveled Up 12 Times! Current Level: 41]
[Destruction (Frost) Leveled Up 9 Times! Current Level: 98]
He paused, noting the Conjuration tree. He had heavily utilized the Atronach summons to counter Malkoran's initial assault. Because his summoning matrix had already been at maximum capacity, he mentally engaged the Legendary reset protocol before logging the growth, sacrificing the peak efficiency for infinite scaling once again.
[Conjuration (Summoning) Skill Reset to Level 0.]
[Skill Status Updated: Conjuration (Summoning)(+1)]
[Conjuration (Summoning)(+1) Leveled Up 10 Times! Current Level: 10]
The staggering, concentrated volume of multi school magical progression instantly overwhelmed his overall power threshold.
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 104!]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 105!]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 106!]
[You have gained 3 Attribute Points!]
Aerion felt the familiar, intoxicating rush of raw, cosmic authority expand within his physical form. He possessed three points of pure, reality altering potential.
Rather than min maxing a single attribute, he decided a balanced, holistic upgrade was required after realizing how taxing the prolonged holy magic barrage had been on his physical and magical reserves.
He funneled one point into each of the three core pillars.
A deep, fortifying warmth rushed into his chest, hardening his cellular structure. A surge of boundless, kinetic energy flowed into his muscles, expanding his lungs. Finally, a cooling, infinite wave of arcane capacity rushed through his neural pathways.
[Health increased by 10! Current Health: 430/430]
[Stamina increased by 10! Current Stamina: 430/430]
[Magicka increased by 10! Current Magicka: 600/600]
[Maximum Carry Weight increased by 5 KG. Current Max Weight: 515 KG]
The sheer, terrifying volume of his power was growing exponentially. He was rapidly approaching a level of capability where entire armies would be little more than a mild inconvenience.
Satisfied with his ascension, Aerion dismissed the interface. He lay back against the coarse pillow, the absolute silence of the room pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep instantly.
The next morning, Aerion was awakened by a highly familiar, entirely unwelcome sensation.
Lupin, having grown bored of sleeping on the floorboards, had hopped onto the bed and was currently pacing directly back and forth across Aerion's chest, his tiny paws pressing firmly into the High Elf's ribs.
Aerion groaned, opening his eyes to see the fox staring down at him, tail wagging expectantly.
"I am awake, you tyrant," Aerion muttered, gently pushing the fox off his chest.
He sat up, feeling remarkably refreshed. The physical exhaustion from the Kilkreath Catacombs had been completely purged by his high tier systemic regeneration.
He washed his face with the freezing water in the basin, secured his dark robes, and stepped out of the room. Jenassa was already waiting in the hallway, looking equally restored, her blades polished and ready.
They descended the stairs, finding Faida wiping down the bar counter. Aerion placed the two heavy iron keys on the wood with a polite nod, which she returned with a wave.
They stepped out of the Four Shields Tavern. The morning air of Dragon Bridge was crisp and biting, the village slowly waking up around them.
They untied their mounts from the hitching posts. Aerion tucked Lupin into the saddlebag and effortlessly swung his towering frame into Revan's heavy leather saddle.
"A long ride ahead, Jenassa," Aerion noted, adjusting his reins.
"The horses are rested. We will make good time, Patron," she replied, mounting her bay.
With a synchronized click of their tongues, they spurred their horses forward. They rode out of the village, the hooves echoing heavily as they crossed the ancient, roaring span of the Dragon Bridge, officially turning their backs on the freezing northern hold of Haafingar.
The journey south was a long, grueling test of endurance. They followed the winding, treacherous mountain pass, the jagged rocks of the Reach looming ominously around them. They rode hard, prioritizing speed over stealth, the sheer size of the black destrier deterring any would be bandits along the route.
They passed through the shadowed gorge of Robber's Holdout, the empty archer platforms watching them silently. They galloped past the towering, weathered stone of Gjukar's Monument, the wind howling across the desolate plains.
After several hours of relentless riding, the harsh, rocky terrain finally began to soften. They descended into the sweeping, terraced basin of Rorikstead.
They didn't stop at the farming village. They pushed their horses onward, following the main trade road as it continued south, until it finally intersected with the primary east west artery of the province.
They pulled their reins, turning sharply to the left, heading due east.
The landscape shifted dramatically. The freezing winds and jagged rocks vanished, replaced entirely by the vast, sprawling, golden oceans of the Whiterun tundra. The sun beat down warmly upon them, the crisp scent of autumn pine filling the air.
They followed the cobblestone road. In the distance, the heavily decayed stone walls of Fort Greymoor loomed, but they bypassed it easily.
Soon, the ruined, lonely stone spire of the Western Watchtower appeared on the horizon. As they rode past it, Aerion felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. They had officially re entered the sovereign territory of the Whiterun Hold. They were back in their own domain.
They continued east, the towering, majestic silhouette of Dragonsreach growing ever larger against the sky. They rode past the bustling Whiterun Stables, the chaotic noise of the city market faintly echoing over the walls.
They did not turn up the path to the gates. They stayed on the main road, riding past the sprawling, golden wheat fields of Pelagia Farm. They caught a brief glimpse of one of Sinmir's mercenaries patrolling near the silos, offering a sharp salute as the Patron rode past.
They continued down the road, passing the large, sturdy wooden architecture of the Honningbrew Meadery.
Finally, Aerion pulled the reins slightly, turning Revan off the main cobblestone route and guiding the massive beast to the left, crossing the small, familiar stone bridge spanning the White River.
As they crested the ridge, the Tundra Homestead came into full view.
It was no longer just a quiet, isolated house on the plains. It was an active, bustling construction site.
The air was filled with the rhythmic, deafening sound of heavy iron hammers striking wood, the grinding of handsaws, and the shouted orders of Captain Sinmir.
To the west of the main house, two massive, sturdy wooden framework of the store house which one will become the mercenary barrack was already rising rapidly, the foundational quarry stone perfectly laid.
To the south, the sprawling, multi acre perimeter of the mammoth pen was taking shape, with heavy, sharpened pine logs being driven deep into the earth to form an impenetrable palisade.
Aerion brought the black destrier to a halt on the ridge, his golden eyes sweeping over the progress. His empire was literally being built from the ground up.
"It seems the Captain has been keeping the men busy," Jenassa observed, a note of genuine professional respect in her voice.
"Indeed," Aerion smiled, feeling a profound sense of satisfaction. The Daedric artifact was secured, the threat was neutralized, and his earthly foundations were rapidly solidifying. "Let us go inspect our investment."
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 430/430 Stamina: 430/430 Magicka: 600/600
Level: 103 ➝ 106
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 62/41/98), Restoration (Healing/Purify(+1)) (Level 83/56), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/10), Persuasion(+1) (Level 30), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 41), One Handed (Level 85), 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), & Su (Air)
[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, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Garnet, Sapphire, Ruby, & Dawnbreaker
2x Potion Of Ultimate Magicka, Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Elven Sword
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
4x Potions of Minor Magicka, Spider Eggs, & Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
8x Iron Arrows, Ancient Nord Arrows, & Black Soul Gems (Filled)
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 74.92 KG / 515 KG
Septims: 80,181