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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The carriage rolled smoothly out of the dense forests of the Rift, the sprawling, sunlit, golden grass of the Whiterun tundra finally opening up before them. Aerion looked toward the distant, towering silhouette of Dragonsreach rising above the plains. The first phase of his plan was complete. The Dragonborn was secure. Now, it was time to enter part of the Empire.
The heavy, iron rimmed wooden wheels of Bjorlam's carriage crunched to a final, exhausted halt against the packed earth just outside the towering palisades of the Tundra Estate. The draft horse let out a long, shuddering breath, its flanks heaving slightly in the cool, crisp air of the Whiterun tundra.
It had been an incredibly long, relentless string of days.
The sight of the heavily fortified homestead, with its warm braziers burning brightly atop the wooden walls and the familiar, imposing figures of Sinmir and his boys and girls standing guard, was a profound relief.
Aerion stepped gracefully down from the wooden carriage, his dark robes settling flawlessly around his boots. The rest of the group followed, their heavy armor clanking with the unmistakable sound of deep fatigue. Aeloria stretched her massive shoulders, letting out a groan that sounded entirely too loud in the quiet afternoon air, while Jenassa simply melted into the shadows of the palisades, her posture instantly relaxing.
Aerion turned back toward the driver's bench. Bjorlam was slumped slightly forward, wiping a layer of trail dust from his brow with the back of his calloused hand. The man had driven them across the province, hauled a mythological fortune in dragon bones out of Stormcloak territory, and waited patiently at the foot of the world's tallest mountain.
He had earned vastly more than just the gold in his pouch.
"Bjorlam," Aerion called out smoothly, his melodic voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation.
The driver perked up, straightening his posture. "Yes, my Thane?"
"You are dismissed," Aerion instructed, offering the man a warm, respectful nod. "You may return to your usual post at the Whiterun Stables, or vastly better, take the rest of the week to return to your family. I am entirely aware that the Dragonborn and I have monopolized your time and kept you far from your hearth these past two weeks. Take your rest. You have earned it a dozen times over."
Hearing the dismissal, a massive, brilliant smile broke across Bjorlam's weathered face. He let out a hearty, booming laugh, patting the heavy leather pouch of septims resting securely at his belt.
"I will gladly do so, Thane Aerion," Bjorlam replied, offering a deep, respectful bow from his seated position. He looked over at the exhausted Nordic woman leaning on her battleaxe. "And to you as well, Thane Aeloria. It has been the absolute honor of my life to drive the cart that carried the heroes of Skyrim. May the Divines keep your roads clear."
With a final, cheerful flick of the heavy leather reins, Bjorlam guided his draft horse in a wide arc, turning the carriage back onto the main cobblestone highway. The wagon rattled away, heading steadily back toward the city gates of Whiterun, leaving the strike team alone in front of the estate.
Aerion turned to his group. "You are all relieved of duty for the remainder of the day," he says softly. "Go inside. Eat a hot meal, tend to your gear, and sleep in a real bed."
Aeloria offered a lazy, grateful smile, already turning toward the heavy oak doors of the main house. "Don't have to tell me twice, Aerion. I'm going to sleep for the rest of the day, climbing those steps aren't that tiring compared to deciphering what the Greybeards are trying to convey."
As the group began to file into the safety of the compound, Aerion remained standing near the dirt path.
"I will not be joining you inside just yet," Aerion added, his golden eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of Dragonsreach. "I am going to ride into the city to meet with Ysolda. I will return before nightfall."
The moment the words left his lips, the sharp, metallic scrape of shifting steel echoed in the quiet air. Lydia, who had been half turned toward the gates, immediately pivoted back around. Her heavy Housecarl training instantly overrode her physical exhaustion.
"I shall fetch my pack, my Thane," Lydia announced crisply, her dark eyes locking onto him with unwavering dedication. "Give me but a moment to secure my shield, and I will accompany you to the city."
Aerion raised a long, elegant hand, halting her movement.
"That will not be necessary, Lydia," Aerion replied gently, but with an underlying tone of absolute, unbreakable authority. "You are to remain here and rest."
Lydia frowned, her brow furrowing in genuine distress. It wasn't insubordination, it was the absolute, fundamental core of her Nordic honor reacting to a perceived failure of duty.
"I must protest, Thane Aerion," Lydia insisted, taking a step forward. "I am your sworn Housecarl. My place is at your side. It is my sacred duty to accompany you wherever you go, to ensure that no blade finds you while your guard is lowered. The roads are not entirely safe, even this close to the city walls."
Aerion offered her a slow, reassuring smile, perfectly calibrating his tone to address her honor without compromising his own autonomy. He needed to establish boundaries. Having a heavily armored, fiercely protective warrior shadowing his every footstep was tactically sound for a dungeon, but it was incredibly suffocating for a romantic date in the market district.
"I understand your duty, Lydia, and I value your dedication more than you know," Aerion assured her smoothly. "But you must also understand my capabilities. I am a master of the arcane arts. I can turn a troll to ash with a single thought. I can protect myself on a brief ride up the road."
He stepped slightly closer, lowering his voice to a confidential murmur.
"Furthermore," Aerion reasoned, utilizing a brilliant, pragmatic excuse, "I require some time alone. I have personal matters to attend to, and I have numerous, highly capable contacts within the city walls who keep a very close eye on the streets. If any threat were to materialize, I would know of it before a blade was even drawn. Rest your shield arm, Lydia. That is an order."
Lydia searched his golden eyes for a moment, weighing her sworn oath against his direct command. Finding no room for argument, she slowly relented. She brought her steel gauntlet across her breastplate in a crisp salute.
"As you command, my Thane," Lydia conceded respectfully, though her eyes still held a lingering shadow of protective worry. She turned and followed Valdemar and Jenassa through the heavy wooden gates of the estate.
Alone on the dirt path, Aerion let out a quiet sigh. He turned and walked toward the spacious, well kept stables situated just outside the main palisades of his homestead.
The moment he stepped into the shade of the stable roof, a loud, incredibly affectionate snort echoed from the largest stall.
Revan, the massive, pure black steed, immediately thrust his large head over the wooden gate. The horse let out a series of happy, rumbling neighs, violently stamping a heavy hoof against the hay covered dirt. Revan had been well cared for by the mercenaries, fed the finest oats and brushed daily, but a highly intelligent warhorse always missed its true master.
Aerion's sociopathic, calculating mask completely melted away into an expression of genuine, unfiltered warmth. He stepped up to the stall, reaching out to firmly, affectionately stroke the thick, powerful muscles of the horse's neck.
"I have missed you as well, old friend," Aerion murmured, his voice rich and soft. He scratched the sweet spot just behind Revan's ears, earning another deep, rumbling snort of approval. "The mountains were no place for a steed of your caliber. But today, we ride."
Aerion quickly and expertly saddled the massive black horse, securing the dark leather straps with practiced ease. He led Revan out of the stall, swinging smoothly up into the saddle. He didn't need to kick or shout, a subtle shift of his weight and a gentle squeeze of his knees was all the communication the highly trained beast required.
Revan broke into a smooth, powerful canter, carrying Aerion down the cobblestone road toward the towering gates of Whiterun.
As the wind whipped through his dark hair, Aerion's highly analytical mind began to wander, drifting toward the cascading notifications and the massive influx of power he had recently secured.
His Destruction magic was apocalyptic. His Restoration could rewrite biology. His Sneak made him functionally invisible. But as he watched a small, brown field mouse dart rapidly through the golden grass on the side of the road, a sudden, profound realization struck his transmigrator soul like a physical blow.
'My Animal Affinity,' Aerion thought, his golden eyes narrowing in deep contemplation.
He had ground the Animal Affinity skill to its absolute maximum level days ago, alongside his speech and persuasion matrices. Yet, amidst the chaos of dragon fights, political maneuvering, and ancient crypts, he had treated it as a passive buff. He had used it to ensure wolves didn't attack his carriage and to easily command his steed.
He had been treating a reality warping superpower as mere convenience.
'I have been incredibly shortsighted,' Aerion critiqued himself brutally. 'I possess the maximum, absolute pinnacle of Animal Affinity. While I cannot speak to them in the common tongue, the system shows that I can perfectly understand their intent, their emotions, and the raw concepts they attempt to convey. I can forge bonds of absolute loyalty with them.'
His mind instantly flashed back to a highly specific, obscure Isekai novel he had read in his past life on Earth. The protagonist of that story hadn't conquered the world with massive fireballs or legendary swords, he had conquered it by establishing an absolute, invisible, omnipresent intelligence network utilizing the lowest, most ignored creatures in the world.
The application of the concept in Skyrim was breathtakingly terrifying.
'Why am I relying on mercenaries and expensive human informants to gather intelligence?' Aerion calculated rapidly, the sheer scale of the idea blooming in his mind. Humans are flawed. They are greedy, they are noticeable, and they can be interrogated. But no heavily armored guard in the Blue Palace of Solitude pays attention to a common small spider clinging to the rafters of the throne room.
No Thalmor Justiciar at the Embassy suspects that the black raven sitting on the windowsill is actively listening to their classified briefings. No thief in the Ratway thinks twice about the rats scurrying through the shadows.
Small animals, birds, spiders, snakes, and rats, were the absolute perfect spies. They could infiltrate the most highly secured, magically warded fortresses in the continent completely unnoticed. They were considered too low of a threat for experienced warriors to draw their swords against, and entirely beneath the notice of arrogant mages.
'If I actively bind a network of these creatures to my will,' Aerion planned, a cold, deeply sociopathic thrill running down his spine, 'I will possess an omnipresent, continent spanning intelligence apparatus that Delphine and her pathetic, paranoid Blades could only dream of. I will hear every whisper in every Jarl's court.'
He locked the strategic objective firmly into his mind. He would begin cultivating his invisible army Soo .
Before long, Revan carried him up the final, winding stone incline leading to the Whiterun Stables. Aerion smoothly dismounted, handing the reins to the stable boy with a silver coin for his trouble.
Aerion walked the rest of the way up the cobblestone path, approaching the massive, iron reinforced wooden gates of the city.
The two Whiterun guards standing watch, clad in their familiar yellow and brown scaled armor, immediately straightened their postures. They recognized the towering High Elf instantly, not just as a wealthy patron of the city, but as the minted, highly respected Thane who had slain a dragon alongside the Dragonborn.
"Good afternoon, Thane Aerion," the guard on the right greeted him, bringing his spear up in a crisp, respectful salute. "The city is honored by your presence."
"At ease, guardsman. Thank you," Aerion replied smoothly, offering a polite nod as he passed through the heavy wooden gates.
The moment he stepped into the city, the familiar, comforting smell of woodsmoke, roasting meats, and hot, working steel washed over him. Whiterun was bustling, the panic of the dragon attacks slowly settling into a tense, hyper vigilant normalcy.
Aerion did not head straight for the market. He took an immediate right turn, walking up the stone steps toward Warmaiden's.
The massive, open air forge was blazing with intense heat. Standing by the anvil, her face streaked with soot and sweat, was Adrianne Avenicci. She was rhythmically, furiously bringing a heavy iron hammer down upon a glowing, red hot steel broadsword.
"Adrianne," Aerion called out over the ringing of the hammer.
The Imperial blacksmith paused, wiping her forehead with the back of a thick leather glove. When she saw the High Elf standing near her forge, she immediately set the hammer down, a tired but deeply apologetic smile crossing her soot stained face.
"Thane Aerion," Adrianne greeted him, exhaling a long, exhausted breath. She gestured helplessly toward a massive pile of unrefined iron ore and half finished steel breastplates stacked near the smelter. "If you are here to ask about the progress on the new forge and the heavy smelters for your estate... I am so incredibly sorry. The masons have laid the brickwork, but the actual iron components are delayed."
Aerion stepped closer, entirely unbothered. "There is no need to apologize, Adrianne. Has something occurred?"
"It's the dragons," Adrianne sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Ever since the attack on the Watchtower, the entire city is in an absolute panic. The Jarl has ordered a massive surplus of arrows and spears for the guards. And on top of that, Clan Battle-Born just submitted a massive, urgent order for heavy steel armor and steel weapons to arm their private retainers. I have been swamped from dawn until dusk. I simply haven't had the hours to cast the massive iron vats you need for the estate smelters."
Aerion's golden eyes scanned the exhausting workload. He understood the economics of fear perfectly. The sudden appearance of mythological threats always drove an aggressive, desperate arms race.
"I completely understand the strain, Adrianne," Aerion assured her, his voice warm and accommodating. He had no intention of acting the tyrant. "The defense of the city and the safety of the guards must take absolute priority. Do not stress yourself over my estate. We can delay the installation."
He offered her a genuine, supportive smile. "In fact, once my current schedule clears, I may come down here and offer you my own assistance at the anvil. I have been meaning to temper my own smithing skills again."
Adrianne's eyes widened in surprise, deeply grateful for his incredibly reasonable, generous reaction. Most nobles would have screamed and demanded their orders be prioritized.
"You would help me at forge again?" Adrianne asked, a bright smile breaking through her exhaustion. "I would be honored to have a Thane working my bellows. Thank you, Aerion. Truly."
"Focus on the Jarl's steel for now," Aerion nodded respectfully, turning away from the forge.
He continued his walk up the winding, tiered stone paths of the city, heading toward the bustling market district.
Whiterun was alive with activity. Merchants shouted their wares from the wooden stalls, children chased each other through the alleys, and heavily armored mercenaries debated contracts near the well. But as Aerion walked through the crowd, a subtle, highly respectful shift occurred.
The people of Whiterun recognized him. They knew the towering High Elf in the immaculate dark robes was the man who had funded their defenses, revitalized their economy, and stood beside the Dragonborn. The citizens actively, respectfully made way for him, parting like a gentle wave as he approached, offering polite nods and murmured greetings.
He absorbed the respect with flawless, aristocratic grace, but his mind was focused entirely on a single destination.
He reached the center of the market square and stepped up to the heavy wooden doors of the Bannered Mare.
Aerion pushed the doors open, stepping out of the bright afternoon sun and into the warm, dimly lit, incredibly noisy atmosphere of the tavern. The air was thick with the smell of roasting venison, spilled honey mead, and the loud, boisterous laughter of off duty guards and traveling merchants.
The tavern was packed, but as Aerion stepped through the threshold, the sheer presence of the Thane caused a ripple of quiet deference to spread through the room. Several patrons sitting on the wooden stools near the central counter immediately, voluntarily grabbed their tankards and moved away, clearing a wide, respectful space for him.
Aerion didn't care about the patrons. His golden eyes locked instantly onto the woman managing the ledger behind the counter.
Ysolda looked up from her parchment, tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear.
The absolute moment she saw him standing there, the professional merchant persona completely vanished. A massive, brilliantly radiant smile illuminated her beautiful face, her eyes lighting up with genuine, unfiltered joy.
She quickly stepped out from behind the counter, meeting him in the center of the cleared space. She didn't care who was watching. She reached out, taking both of his hands in hers, looking up at him with a gaze so incredibly warm and affectionate it could have melted the ice of High Hrothgar.
"You returned," Ysolda breathed, her voice a soft, incredibly sweet melody over the noise of the tavern. "I am so relieved, Aerion. I know you promised you would be safe, but my heart hasn't stopped racing since you left this morning. I am so glad you are sound."
Aerion's sociopathic armor, the cold calculations, and the vast geopolitical strategies completely dissolved. In this inn he was genuinely a human or well an Elf.
He smiled, a look of profound, tender affection transforming his flawless features. He gently squeezed her hands, pulling her just a fraction of an inch closer.
"Of course I returned safely, my dear," Aerion replied, his voice a low, incredibly warm murmur intended only for her ears. He let out a soft, teasing chuckle. "I assure you, walking up the stone steps of High Hrothgar to speak with pacifist monks is vastly, infinitely safer than diving into ancient Nordic crypts to fight the undead. I was never in any true danger."
He looked down into her bright eyes, his thumb tracing the soft skin of her knuckles.
"The real question," Aerion continued smoothly, his tone shifting into one of charming, polite invitation, "is whether the fairest, most successful merchant in Whiterun has the time to spare for me this afternoon. I promised you my time, and I am here to collect on that promise. Would you do me the absolute honor of accompanying me out on a date? Just the two of us, enjoying the city."
Ysolda let out a sweet, highly melodic chuckle, her cheeks flushing with a beautiful, light pink blush. The sheer romance of the towering, terrifyingly powerful mage asking her out with such courtly grace made her heart flutter wildly.
"Well," Ysolda teased softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I suppose I can leave the ledger to Hulda for a few hours. I would love nothing more than to accompany you, Aerion."
She stepped closer, slipping her arm comfortably through his. "Where would you like to take me?"
Aerion smiled, leading her gently toward the tavern doors.
"I thought we might simply walk the upper tiers of the city," Aerion suggested warmly, his voice light and entirely free of the burdens of the world. "We can enjoy the breeze from the Gildergreen, admire the architecture, and perhaps stop by the market stalls. I have an absolute craving to buy some of those sweet, honey roasted nuts from Carlotta's stand, and simply enjoy the afternoon with you."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 610/610 Stamina: 660/660 Magicka: 830/830
Level: 172
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+3)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+1)) (Level 97/0/84), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 79/50), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/38), Persuasion(+1) (Level 89), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak(+1) (Level 0), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor(+1) (Level 50), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii (Fade Spirit), Su (Air), & Laas (Life)
[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, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, & Dwarven Shield
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: 95.21 KG / 630 KG
Septims: 82,057