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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Nazeem let out a pathetic, high pitched whimper of pure, unadulterated terror. Aeloria cracked her heavy steel knuckles, a feral, Dragonborn grin spreading across her face. "Lead the way to the porch, Aerion," Aeloria declared cheerfully. "I need to clear my throat."
The sheer, undeniable prospect of witnessing a living, breathing mythological power completely electrified the Great Hall of Dragonsreach.
The tense, panicked political debates that had previously consumed the nobles were entirely forgotten. Every single merchant, aristocrat, and influential landowner present in the court was suddenly absolutely desperate to see the legendary Thu'um unleashed with their own eyes.
Even the armored Whiterun Guards stationed by the roaring bonfire exchanged eager, excited glances, though their fera of being punished by the Jarl forced them to remain standing rigidly at their posts.
Jarl Balgruuf, his royal authority completely restored by the resolution of the political conflict, stepped down from his dais. He gestured grandly toward the heavy wooden double doors situated on the second floor, just past his private tactical solar.
"Follow me, all of you!" Jarl Balgruuf commanded, his booming voice filled with a fierce, proud Nordic energy. "If Nazeem requires an true demonstration of the ancient blood, then we shall give him one upon the very stones where our ancestors made history!"
The Jarl personally led the massive procession. Aerion, Aeloria, and Jenassa followed closely behind the ruler, flanked immediately by their newly appointed Housecarls, Lydia and Valdemar, who had flawlessly, instantly assumed their protective positions. Trailing behind them was a massive, eager crowd of Whiterun's elite, forming a highly anticipated parade of nobility.
They ascended the stone stairs to the second floor, bypassing the Jarl's solar, and approached the massive, reinforced oak doors at the rear of the keep.
Jarl Balgruuf pushed the doors open, stepping out into the crisp, freezing air of the Great Porch.
The structure was an architectural marvel, perched precariously on the absolute edge of the massive stone outcropping that supported the palace. The sweeping balcony offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the golden plains of the tundra stretching out toward the western mountains.
But it was not built for the view. The high stone walls, the incredibly thick, reinforced pillars, and the massive, rusted iron yoke hanging menacingly from the ceiling beams told a much darker, vastly more violent story.
This was the exact location where, centuries ago, Olaf One Eye, a legendary Jarl of Whiterun, had managed to physically trap and imprison the fearsome dragon Numinex.
It was the absolute, perfect, thematic arena for testing a newly awakened Dragonborn.
Jarl Balgruuf turned to face the eager crowd as they filtered out onto the stone balcony. The wind whipped at the Jarl's fur cloak as he raised a hand, calling for absolute order.
"Aerion. Aeloria," Jarl Balgruuf called out, gesturing for the two of them to step forward from the crowd.
They did so, stepping into the center of the massive stone porch. Aeloria's heavy Steel Plate armor gleamed in the late afternoon sun, while Aerion's dark robes fluttered elegantly in the high altitude breeze.
"The architecture of this porch was specifically designed to withstand the thrashing of a captured dragon," Jarl Balgruuf noted, looking around the heavy stone walls. He then turned his gaze to the High Elf, trusting the mage's analytical mind. "Aerion, Aeloria. Look around the area. Where do you determine Nazeem should be standing to safely receive the kinetic impact of the Voice?"
Aerion and Aeloria exchanged a brief, highly professional glance, stepping away from the crowd to conduct a rapid, physical assessment of the balcony's structural integrity.
Aerion walked toward the far right side of the room, rapping his knuckles against the thick, interlocking gray stone blocks of the outer wall. He examined the mortar and the load bearing distribution of the nearby pillars.
"This section is optimal, my Jarl," Aerion announced, pointing to the solid stone wall on the right flank. "The masonry here is deeply reinforced and backed entirely by the bedrock of the mountain itself. It will not buckle. If Nazeem is thrown against this specific partition, the stone will sufficiently halt his kinetic momentum without structurally compromising the balcony or risking a lethal fall into the lower districts."
Aeloria nodded her head in agreement, resting the heavy head of the Axe of Morthal on the floorboards. "It's solid. Stand him there."
Nazeem, who had been trying to silently melt into the back of the crowd of nobles, suddenly found himself the absolute center of attention. He was shivering, his face entirely devoid of its usual, arrogant color.
"Now, wait just a moment," Nazeem stammered, raising his hands desperately as several large, highly amused Nordic nobles, including Vignar Gray-Mane and Hrongar, turned their eyes upon him. "I... I have reconsidered! A verbal confirmation from the Jarl is entirely sufficient—!"
"Nonsense, Nazeem! You demanded proof!" Hrongar boomed with a massive, booming laugh.
Without waiting for the Redguard's protests, Hrongar and two other burly nobles firmly grabbed Nazeem by the shoulders of his expensive, fine clothes. They physically, aggressively shoved the whimpering landowner across the porch, pressing him flat against the designated solid stone wall on the right side.
"Stay exactly there," Hrongar warned, pointing a thick finger at Nazeem's nose.
Aeloria stepped forward, positioning herself roughly fifteen feet away from the trembling Redguard. She rolled her shoulders, the heavy steel plates clanking, and began doing a few light stretches to warm up the muscles in her chest and back, actively trying to recapture the profound, spiritual feeling of the ancient power resting within her.
Aerion, seamlessly assuming the role of the safety coordinator, turned to face the gathered crowd of nobles and the Jarl.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I require your absolute attention," Aerion commanded, his voice projecting clearly over the wind. He raised his hands, gesturing for the entire crowd to move backward toward the heavy wooden doors.
"Take several steps back, and press yourselves firmly against the interior wall," Aerion instructed with total, academic seriousness. "Furthermore, I highly advise every single person on this porch to tightly cover their ears."
Proventus Avenicci frowned, looking confused. "Cover our ears? Is that truly necessary, Aerion?"
"It is absolutely necessary, Proventus," Aerion replied smoothly, explaining the physics of the impending disaster. "When Aeloria first utilized the Thu'um out on the tundra, she was standing in a completely open, unconfined space. The acoustic shockwave was allowed to freely dissipate across miles of open plains. However, we are currently standing in a semi closed, heavily reinforced stone structure."
Aerion pointed to the thick walls and the ceiling overhead.
"The stone will not absorb the sound, it will violently reflect it," Aerion warned, his golden eyes sweeping over the crowd. "The sound level of a point blank draconic vocalization in this enclosed area could very easily rupture the eardrums of anyone standing too close. Unless you wish to spend the next week entirely deaf, cover your ears."
The stark, scientific clarity of the warning instantly erased any remaining skepticism.
Jarl Balgruuf, Proventus, Hrongar, Commander Cassius, and every single noble on the porch immediately took several large steps backward, pressing themselves against the far wall and clamping their hands tightly over the sides of their heads. Even Nazeem, pressed flat against the execution wall, desperately clamped his hands over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut in absolute, whimpering terror.
Aerion, standing safely out of the direct line of fire, turned his gaze to the heavily armored Dragonborn.
"Are you ready, Aeloria?" Aerion asked smoothly.
Aeloria stopped stretching. She planted her heavy steel boots firmly into the stone floorboards, adopting a wide, fiercely stable martial stance. She looked over her shoulder at the High Elf and offered a sharp, highly confident nod, raising a heavy steel gauntlet to give him a thumbs up.
She turned her bright blue eyes back to the trembling Redguard.
Aeloria closed her eyes. She tuned out the howling wind of the balcony and the muffled whispers of the crowd. She reached deep down into the center of her chest, locating that hot, thrumming, ancient knot of pure, absorbed draconic soul energy.
She didn't force it. She simply opened the floodgates and allowed the power of the myth to rise up into her throat.
She took a massive, deep, incredibly heavy breath, her chest visibly expanding beneath her steel breastplate.
Aeloria's eyes snapped open, burning with a sudden, fierce, inhuman intensity.
"FUS!"
The ancient syllable violently erupted from her lungs.
It was completely, utterly deafening. Even with their ears tightly covered, the Jarl and the nobles felt the sheer, acoustic violence of the word rattle their very teeth in their skulls.
A massive, visible distortion of raw, concentrated kinetic force blasted out from Aeloria's mouth. The invisible shockwave tore across the fifteen feet of open space in a fraction of a millisecond.
The blast hit Nazeem with the force of a stampeding mammoth.
The Redguard was instantly, violently swept off his feet. He entirely lost his footing, his expensive boots leaving the floorboards as the sheer pressure of the Shout slammed into his chest. He was thrown backward through the air, completely unable to resist the mythological force.
SMASH!
Nazeem slammed brutally into the solid stone wall behind him. The impact was loud and wince inducing. The sheer, sustained pressure of the invisible wind actively pinned him against the rough masonry for a full second, the ancient magic grinding his fine clothes and exposed skin against the jagged stone blocks.
As the echo of the Shout finally faded and the invisible pressure dissipated, gravity reasserted itself.
Nazeem slumped forward, entirely limp, and slid down the stone wall until he collapsed into a crumpled, unconscious heap on the floorboards of the balcony.
For a long, heavy moment, the Great Porch was consumed by an absolutely stunned, ringing silence. The nobles slowly lowered their hands from their ears, staring in profound, wide eyed shock at the unconscious Redguard, and then at the Nord woman who had put him there simply by speaking.
Jarl Balgruuf slowly lowered his hands, a look of profound, genuine awe washing over his face. He had heard the legends of the Voice, but witnessing the raw, physical destruction it could casually inflict upon a man was entirely different.
"By the breath of Kyne..." Jarl Balgruuf whispered, completely flabbergasted.
He quickly shook himself from his stupor, reasserting his authority. He waved a hand toward two of the Whiterun guards who had followed him onto the porch.
"You two! Go check on Nazeem," Jarl Balgruuf ordered crisply. "Ensure the fool is still breathing."
The two guards rushed across the balcony, kneeling beside the crumpled form of the wealthy landowner. They quickly checked his pulse and rolled him onto his back.
"He's alive, my Jarl!" one of the guards called back, sounding almost disappointed. "He's just been knocked completely unconscious by the impact. He's got some nasty scrapes and grazes on his neck, his right cheek, and his hands from being ground against the stone wall, but nothing is broken. He'll live."
Jarl Balgruuf let out a satisfied, highly amused snort. The arrogant Redguard had received exactly what he had asked for, and the political legitimacy of his new Thanes was now entirely, irrefutably sealed in stone.
"Excellent," Balgruuf nodded, his booming voice returning. "Pick him up and carry him down to the Temple of Kynareth. Hand him over to Danica Pure-Spring and the Priests of Arkay so they can treat his scrapes. Tell them he had a sudden, overwhelming disagreement with the ancient traditions of our people."
The nobles chuckled as the two guards unceremoniously hauled the unconscious Nazeem up by his armpits and dragged his limp body off the porch.
Jarl Balgruuf then turned back to the gathered crowd, clapping his hands together.
"Well! I believe the matter is entirely settled!" Jarl Balgruuf announced loudly. "The evidence has been provided. The Dragonborn stands among us. You may all leave the area and return to your work, or go back to your homes. This court has much to prepare for."
The nobles, still buzzing with adrenaline and gossip, offered deep, respectful bows to the Jarl and the new Thanes before slowly filtering back inside, eager to spread the news of the miraculous event across the entire city.
With the balcony finally cleared, Balgruuf turned his full attention to Aerion and Aeloria.
"That was a magnificent demonstration, Aeloria," Jarl Balgruuf praised her, his voice heavy with respect. He then looked at the towering High Elf. "And your foresight in selecting that specific wall saved me a massive amount of protest to be handled from Nazeem, Aerion."
"I aim to please, my Jarl," Aerion smiled smoothly.
"You may both take your leave for the evening," Jarl Balgruuf instructed them, his tone growing solemn. "Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, you must begin your preparations for the journey to Ivarstead, and the climb up the Seven Thousand Steps. High Hrothgar awaits. The Greybeards will definitely possess the answers for whatever shift happened out there in the lands of Skyrim today."
Aerion placed a hand over his heart, offering a flawless bow. "We shall make our preparations immediately, Jarl Balgruuf."
"Safe travels, Thanes of Whiterun," Jarl Balgruuf nodded, before turning to confer quietly with Proventus.
Aerion turned on his heel, gesturing for his vastly expanded strike team to follow.
Aeloria, her face still glowing with the exhilarating rush of the Thu'um, fell into step beside him. Jenassa seamlessly melted out of the shadows to take the right flank.
And right behind them, their heavy steel armor clanking in perfect, synchronized rhythm, marched their newly appointed personal Housecarls, Lydia and Valdemar. Lupin the fox trotted happily in the center of the heavily armed diamond formation.
They left the Great Porch, walking steadily back through the Great Hall, and descended the massive stone steps of Dragonsreach.
They did not head toward the city gates. Aerion led the formidable entourage down through the Wind District, descending the stone stairs that led directly back into the bustling heart of the Plains District.
Their destination was the warm, familiar glow of the Bannered Mare.
"Aeloria, Valdemar, Lydia," Aerion spoke smoothly over his shoulder as they approached the inn. "Secure a large table near the hearth fire and order whatever food and drink you desire. Jenassa, maintain your usual perimeter. I have a brief, private matter to attend to."
"Understood, my Thane," Lydia replied crisply.
Aerion pushed the heavy wooden doors of the inn open, stepping inside.
The atmosphere within the Bannered Mare was entirely different from their last visit. Usually, by late afternoon, the tavern was packed with boisterous mercenaries, singing bards, and drunken patrons. But today, the room was remarkably sparse.
The terrifying apocalyptic roar followed by the earth shaking summons from the Greybeards, had driven the vast majority of the citizenry to seek shelter securely within their own locked homes.
Only a few hardened mercenaries and quiet travelers remained, nursing their mead in the corners.
Standing securely behind the main wooden counter, organizing a stack of ledgers and wiping down the polished wood, was Ysolda.
The moment the heavy doors opened, Ysolda looked up. When she saw the towering, immaculate High Elf enter, followed closely by his usual lethal companions, and now heavily supplemented by two fully armed, official Whiterun Housecarls, her green eyes widened in absolute, genuine surprise.
She quickly set her rag down, a brilliant, incredibly happy, and deeply relieved smile entirely lighting up her beautiful face. She raised a hand, offering a warm, eager wave.
Aerion caught her gaze from across the room. He didn't offer a charming, manufactured smirk. He offered a small, genuinely soft, incredibly warm smile that completely transformed his aristocratic features. He raised a hand in a gentle wave of acknowledgment.
While Aeloria and the Housecarls moved toward the center of the room to claim a large table, Aerion walked smoothly toward the counter.
He didn't want to discuss ancient prophecies, dead dragons, or high stakes business investments in the middle of the open taproom. He caught Ysolda's eye and subtly, gently tilted his head toward the stairs leading to the private rooms, offering a questioning look.
Ysolda, possessing a sharp, highly intuitive merchant's mind, instantly understood the silent request for a private audience.
Her heart fluttered slightly at the intimacy of the look. She offered a quick, agreeable nod, mouthing the word, "Upstairs," to him.
Ysolda quickly turned around. Standing near the back casks, taking inventory of the spiced wine, was Hulda.
"Hulda," Ysolda requested softly, tapping the older woman on the shoulder. "Could you please man the front counter for a few moments? I need to have a private meeting with Aerion."
Hulda turned around, her weathered eyes instantly spotting the towering High Elf and his heavily armed entourage settling into the tavern. A knowing, highly amused, slightly teasing smirk completely split the older Nord woman's face.
She knew exactly what kind of 'business' the young merchant was likely hoping to conduct with the handsome, wealthy mage.
"Of course, Ysolda. Take all the time you need," Hulda chuckled warmly, wiping her hands on her apron. She stepped up to the front counter, offering Aerion a deep, highly respectful nod as he approached. "Welcome back to the Mare, Aweion. It is good to see you alive after the madness that just happened outside today."
"It is a pleasure to be back, Hulda," Aerion greeted her smoothly, before turning his golden eyes entirely back to Ysolda.
"Follow me," Ysolda smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed. She turned and led the way toward the wooden stairs at the back of the tavern. Aerion followed her up the creaking steps, leaving the quiet taproom behind, moving toward the privacy of the second floor room where they could finally discuss the incredible, world altering events of the day without the prying ears of those that doesn't need to know.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 460/460 Stamina: 480/480 Magicka: 670/670
Level: 136
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+3)/Lightning(+1)/Frost(+1)) (Level 28/57/20), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 14/25), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/26), Persuasion(+1) (Level 60), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 87), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor (Level 92), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh (Force Balance), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii (Fade Spirit), & 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, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, Hide Boots Of Sneak, Gold Ruby Ring of Fortify Magicka, Iron Garnet Ring of Fortify Conjuration & Magicka Regen, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Honed Ancient Nord Sword of Sparks, Gold Emerald Circlet, & Scroll of Fire Storm, Ring of Archery,Hide Boots of Stamina, Ancient Nord Sword of Absorbing, Iron Garnet Circlet, & Iron Sapphire Circlet
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 90.20 KG / 540 KG
Septims: 82,557