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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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He looked at the hardened men and women who had just breached a fortified castle and slaughtered a garrison three times their size without losing a single soul. "Fort Greymoor is now fully secured," Aerion announced, a deep, triumphant smile touching his lips. "All of you fought flawlessly. Rest your blades, gather the high tier spoils, and if you all have any wounds, come to me. Tomorrow, I will deliver this fortress to the Jarl."
The dust and smoke inside the central keep of Fort Greymoor finally began to settle, leaving behind the heavy, metallic scent of blood and the damp chill of ancient stone. The battle was over. The mercenaries of the Aerion Estate moved through the corridors with methodical efficiency, their boots splashing softly in the puddles that had gathered on the uneven flagstones.
Aerion stood in what remained of the bandit chieftain's personal quarters, his dark robes unblemished despite the carnage that had taken place just beyond the heavy oak door. He waited patiently as his men and women swept the fortress, adhering strictly to the rules of engagement he had laid out before the breach.
Within a half hour, Sinmir and Uthgerd entered the room, their armor stained but their expressions victorious. They carried a heavy burlap sack, dropping it onto a relatively clean wooden table in the center of the room with a solid, metallic clatter.
"The men have claimed the loose coin and the common steel, Patron," Sinmir reported, wiping a streak of soot from his scarred cheek. "This is the higher quality loots. Everything that glowed, hummed, or looked like it was forged by something other than a drunken Nord blacksmith."
Aerion stepped forward, untying the thick leather cord of the sack and spreading the contents across the table.
It was a modest pile by the standards of a wealthy Thane, but a fortune to a common sellsword. There were several staves of faint sparking magic, a handful of minor soul gems, and a few pieces of steel armor carrying standard, low level frost resistance enchantments. Aerion ran his long, elegant fingers over the items, letting his arcane senses briefly analyze the matrices woven into the metal and wood.
He felt a mild wave of indifference.
From a purely practical standpoint, none of these enchantments offered him anything of true value. His own foundational knowledge of Fire, Frost, and Lightning enchantments vastly outstripped the crude spell work etched into these bandit spoils. Furthermore, if he truly desired to aggressively power level his Enchanting skill, he didn't need to rely on scavenged loot. His memory have directed ti the knowledge of the hidden mod chest in the dirt just outside the walls of Warmaiden's in Whiterun, a remnant of the game's code that had manifested in this reality, containing items with far superior, highly complex enchantments.
He could use these standard items as bonus rewards for the company.
However, one item in the pile stood out from the rest.
Aerion picked up a heavy, immaculately forged sword. The metal was a rich, polished brass color, intricately etched with rigid, geometric angles that defied modern smithing techniques. It was an authentic Dwarven Sword. More than its rarity, the blade radiated a steady, comfortable heat. A competent fire enchantment pulsed within the metal, catching the dim light of the room.
It was the weapon the bandit chieftain had attempted to use before Aeloria had cut him down.
Aerion turned the blade over, testing its exceptional balance, before shifting his gaze to the towering mercenary captain standing at attention.
"Captain Sinmir," Aerion called out softly.
"Patron?"
Aerion reversed his grip on the hilt and extended the Dwarven Sword toward the veteran warrior.
"You and your men executed the breach flawlessly today," Aerion stated, his voice carrying genuine respect for the man's leadership. "You held the line when the magic fell, and you cleared the subterranean corridors without losing a single soul. You have earned the greatest merit in this siege. Take this."
Sinmir looked at the glowing brass weapon, his eyes widening. A true Dwarven blade was a rare prize, often costing a year's wages for a common guard. Add the enchantment, and it was a weapon fit for an expensive and high quality mercenary.
The captain reached out, taking the heavy hilt with a reverent grip. He gave the sword a few experimental swings, the heated blade humming sharply through the cold air.
Sinmir sheathed the weapon, stepping back and bringing his fist sharply across his chestplate in a deep, formal salute.
"Thank you, Thane Aerion," Sinmir swore, his rough voice thick with genuine gratitude and renewed loyalty. "You pay us well, you keep us alive, and you reward our blood with fine steel. I swear to you, the company will fight twice as hard for you moving forward. We are yours to order and direct."
Aerion nodded in acknowledgment. He then gestured to the remaining enchanted items on the table. "Distribute these among Uthgerd and the vanguard who took the heaviest hits in the choke points. They have earned their bonuses."
Once the high-tier loot was dispersed, Aerion shifted his focus from rewards to the grim reality of securing a fortress.
"Gather the company," Aerion instructed. "We are not leaving this keep looking like an abattoir. I want every single bandit and mage corpse dragged out of the corridors and the courtyard. Pile them in the open field fifty yards beyond the main gate. We will burn them, and then we will bury the ashes."
Sinmir frowned slightly, confused by the order. "Bury them, Patron? Usually, the Jarl's men just leave bandit corpses for the crows and the wolves."
"We are not common thugs, Sinmir," Aerion corrected, his tone pragmatic and firm. "Leaving over a hundred bodies to rot in a confined space will rapidly breed disease. The stench will make the fortress entirely uninhabitable for the garrison the Jarl send that will eventually relieve us, and it will pollute the surrounding tundra. We will dispose of them properly."
Sinmir nodded, recognizing the logic. "Understood. I'll get the men on it immediately."
What happened next surprised the mercenary company far more than the Dwarven Sword.
As the weary men and women began the grueling, heavy labor of dragging the armored corpses out of the keep, they found their wealthy, aristocratic Patron working right alongside them. Aerion did not simply stand on the balcony and issue commands. He rolled the sleeves of his dark robes up past his elbows and began hauling the heavy bodies of the fallen rogue mages out into the breaking dawn.
Aeloria, Lydia, Valdemar, and even Jenassa joined the effort. Working together, the grim task proceeded quickly.
By mid morning, a massive, towering pyre of wood and bodies had been constructed in the rocky field outside the fort. Aerion stood before it, raising his hand.
A simple, sustained stream of fire magic ignited the damp wood, quickly roaring into a massive blaze that consumed the remains. As the fire burned down to ash, the mercenaries used shovels found in the fort's armory to turn the earth over, burying the remnants and erasing the morbid stain from the landscape.
The shared labor had a profound effect on the mercenaries. Seeing the High Elf sweat and haul corpses alongside them entirely stripped away the lingering resentment common folk usually held for nobles. His rapport with the company solidified into unwavering trust.
With the fortress clean and the dead buried, Aerion gathered his inner circle near the shattered main gates.
"The operation is a success," Aerion addressed the group, looking at the exhausted but proud faces of his company. He turned to Sinmir. "Captain, you will keep the company here to garrison the fort. Maintain a strict watch on the walls. Tomorrow, the Jarl's men will arrive to formally take possession of the keep. Once the handover is complete, you are to return to the estate."
"We'll hold the walls, Patron," Sinmir confirmed, leaning on his new Dwarven sword. "No one gets in."
"Aeloria, Jenassa, Lydia, Valdemar," Aerion continued, gesturing to his personal retinue. "We are returning to the homestead. The estate is currently under defended with the bulk of our forces here, and we need to prepare for our diplomatic audience with Jarl Balgruuf."
Leaving the mercenaries to establish their watches, Aerion and his five companions began the long walk back across the tundra.
The sun was high in the sky now, burning away the morning mist and casting a warm, golden light across the plains. The walk was quiet, the adrenaline of the night giving way to a comfortable, victorious exhaustion.
As they approached the outskirts of the city, the familiar wooden structure of the Whiterun Stables came into view.
The same patrol of guards that had stopped their massive formation in the freezing dark just hours prior was still on duty, finishing the last leg of their long shift. As the guards saw the small group of five approaching up the road, their postures stiffened slightly.
The guard captain jogged forward, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. He looked past Aerion, scanning the empty road behind them for the rest of the mercenary army, before looking back at the High Elf in surprise.
"Thane Aerion, Thane Aeloria," the guard greeted them respectfully. A hint of concern laced his voice. "I see you've returned. But... where is the rest of your company? Did the bandit extermination go poorly?"
Aerion offered a light, composed smile, seamlessly alleviating the man's worry.
"The extermination was a complete success, guardsman," Aerion assured him smoothly. "The bandits camp has been entirely cleared of its infestation. I simply left the mercenary company behind to hold the walls and thoroughly loot the armories as a reward for their excellent service. They will return tomorrow."
The guard let out a heavy, audible sigh of relief, his tense posture relaxing completely. A wide grin broke across his face as he looked over at the towering Nordic woman leaning casually on her battleaxe.
"Praise Kyne for that," the guard chuckled, shaking his head. "I was about to ask how a camp of ragged bandits managed to defeat a small army led by the Dragonborn. The rumors say you can literally tear men to pieces with a whisper, my lady. I pity the fools who tried to hold a gate against you."
Aeloria laughed, a bright, booming sound that echoed pleasantly in the morning air. "They certainly tried, friend. But rusted iron doesn't hold up well against the Voice."
"Safe travels home, Thanes," the guard waved, stepping back to let them pass.
They bypassed the city gates entirely, following the winding dirt paths across the golden plains until the massive, spiked palisades of the Aerion Estate finally came into view.
The homestead was peaceful. The heavy iron gates were secure, and through the wooden slats, Aerion could see the massive, shaggy forms of his mammoth herd grazing lazily in their reinforced pens, entirely unbothered by the violence that had taken place miles away.
As Aerion walked up the path, his mind briefly connected to the invisible, telepathic web he had established the day before. The local sparrows perched on the palisades and the field mice hidden in the grass sent back a gentle, steady hum of calm. There had been no intruders. The perimeter was perfectly safe.
They entered the estate, the heavy gates closing behind them. Valdemar and Lydia immediately began the arduous process of removing their steel armor, while Jenassa slipped away to clean her blades.
Aerion retreated directly to his private quarters in the main house.
He closed the heavy oak door, shutting out the ambient noise of the estate. The room was cool and quiet. He unclasped his dark robes, draping them over a nearby chair, and sat down on the edge of his bed.
It was time to harvest the yield of the siege.
He closed his eyes, centering his mind, and willed the digital interface of his transmigrator system to manifest. The semi translucent golden text flared brightly into his vision, a cascading waterfall of accumulated combat data.
[Skill Level Up Summary: Fort Greymoor Siege]
Aerion watched the numbers roll, feeling the corresponding surges of power rewrite his neural pathways and expand his magical limits.
[Destruction (Fire) (+3) Leveled Up 20 Times!]
[Destruction (Fire) (+3) has reached MAX LEVEL!]
[Confirm Legendary Reset for Skill: Destruction (Fire) (+3)?]
[Confirmed. Level reset to: 0 (+4)]
[Destruction (Lightning) (+2) Leveled Up 25 Times! Current Level: 25]
[Destruction (Frost) (+1) Leveled Up 23 Times!]
[Destruction (Frost) (+1) has reached MAX LEVEL!]
[Confirm Legendary Reset for Skill: Destruction (Frost) (+1)?]
[Confirmed. Level reset to: 0 (+2)]
[Restoration (Healing) (+1) Leveled Up 34 Times!]
[Restoration (Healing) (+1) has reached MAX LEVEL!]
[Confirm Legendary Reset for Skill: Restoration (Healing) (+1)?]
[Confirmed. Level reset to: 0 (+2)]
[Conjuration (Summoning) (+1) Leveled Up 22 Times! Current Level: 60]
[Persuasion (+1) Leveled Up 30 Times!]
[Persuasion (+1) has reached MAX LEVEL!]
[Confirm Legendary Reset for Skill: Persuasion (+1)?]
[Confirmed. Level reset to: 0 (+2)]
[Light Armor (+1) Leveled Up 25 Times! Current Level: 75]
[LEVEL UP DETECTED!]
[You have leveled up 10 times! You are now Level 180!]
[You have gained 10 Attribute Points!]
Aerion exhaled a long, steady breath. The sheer volume of the unallocated attributes points sitting in his system was staggering. He accessed the attribute menu, his mind making swift, calculated decisions to balance his growing power.
[Attribute Point Allocated: Health x2 (+20 Points)]
[Attribute Point Allocated: Stamina x2 (+20 Points)]
[Inventory Weight Limit Increased by 10 KG. Current Max Weight: 94.21 / 640 KG]
He felt his bones harden slightly, his muscle density increasing to handle the physical rigors of prolonged combat, while his lungs expanded their capacity.
[Attribute Point Allocated: Magicka x6 (+60 Points)]
The final integration hit him like a tidal wave. His internal reservoir of Magicka violently expanded, deepening into an abyssal, roaring ocean of arcane fuel. The air in the quiet bedroom actually shimmered and distorted for a brief second as his body adjusted to the massive influx of energy.
Aerion dismissed the interface. He lay back against the soft pillows, his body thrumming with newly acquired power. The siege was won, his stats were perfectly optimized, and the political board was set. He closed his eyes and drifted into a deep, well earned sleep.
The following morning, the estate was quiet and bathed in bright sunlight.
Aerion, Aeloria, and Lydia stood near the main gates, adjusting their cloaks against the crisp morning breeze.
"Jenassa, Valdemar," Aerion addressed the two warriors staying behind. "You two will have to guard the estate until the company returns from Greymoor. Keep the gates locked. No one enters."
"Understood, Patron," Jenassa nodded, leaning casually against the wooden palisade. "The perimeter around the homestead will remain safe."
"We will return by late afternoon," Aerion promised.
He turned, leading Aeloria and Lydia up the dirt path toward the city of Whiterun.
The walk was brisk and pleasant. They passed through the bustling market district, the smells of fresh bread and roasting meats filling the air, before ascending the winding stone stairs that led past the Gildergreen tree and up into the prestigious Cloud District.
The massive, imposing wooden doors of Dragonsreach loomed before them. The guards stationed outside immediately stood aside, granting the two Thanes unrestricted access to the Jarl's longhouse.
As they pushed the heavy doors open, the warm, smoky, lively atmosphere of the Great Porch washed over them.
The central fire pit was roaring, casting a brilliant orange glow across the vaulted wooden ceiling. The long, heavy oak tables flanking the room were filled with Whiterun's nobility and wealthy merchants, picking at plates of roasted pheasant and sipping expensive wines as they engaged in quiet, political murmurs.
Sitting upon his elevated wooden throne at the far end of the hall, looking weary but attentive, was Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. Proventus Avenicci, the steward, stood to his right, clutching a ledger, while Irileth, the fierce Dunmer housecarl, stood at his left with her hand resting near her blade.
Jarl Balgruuf spotted the towering High Elf and the blonde Dragonborn the moment they crossed the threshold. A genuine smile broke through the Jarl's exhaustion.
"Thane Aerion! Thane Aeloria, Dragonborn!" Jarl Balgruuf called out, his voice booming over the chatter of the nobles. He leaned forward in his throne. "Welcome back to Dragonsreach. I trust the winds have been fair to you both?"
Aerion stepped forward, offering a smooth, respectful bow, while Aeloria placed a gauntlet over her heart in a warrior's salute.
"The winds have been favorable, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion replied, his melodic voice carrying easily across the hall.
He stood up straight, his expression shifting from polite greeting to serious, diplomatic focus.
"However, we have not come simply to share pleasantries," Aerion continued, his tone cutting through the ambient noise of the room. "My Lord, I must request an audience with you. In private. Just yourself, the Dragonborn, Steward Proventus, and Irileth."
The effect was instantaneous.
The low murmur of conversation at the long tables completely ceased. Forks were set down. Dozens of noble eyes darted toward the High Elf. Asking for a closed door audience with the Jarl in the middle of the morning meal was highly unusual, and it signaled matters of extreme, sensitive importance.
Proventus frowned, clutching his ledger tightly, while Irileth's eyes narrowed with sharp suspicion.
Jarl Balgruuf studied Aerion's face for a long moment. He saw no deception, only the quiet, heavy weight of a statesman bearing significant news.
Then Jarl Balgruuf nodded slowly, rising from his throne. "Very well, Thane Aerion," he agreed, his voice echoing in the sudden silence of the hall. He gestured toward the wooden stairs leading to the second floor private quarters. "If the matter is of such urgency, we shall speak away from prying ears. Come. Let us go to the second floor."
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 650/650 Stamina: 680/680 Magicka: 890/890
Level: 172 ➝ 182
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(+4)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+2)) (Level 0/25/0), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 0/50), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/60), Persuasion(+2) (Level 0), Smithing (Level 57), 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 75), 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, 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: 94.21 KG / 640 KG
Septims: 81,582