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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
It was more coin than the Companions made on three medium bounty contracts combined. And the High Elf was simply handing it over as an apology fee for missing a few sparring sessions. The sheer, staggering flex of overwhelming wealth completely silenced the courtyard.
Aela the Huntress stood perfectly still, her sharp green eyes locked onto the heavy leather pouch resting in Aerion's outstretched hand, where it have completely derailed the biting, sarcastic tirade she had been prepared to unleash.
She reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, and took the pouch. The heavy clink of the coins shifting inside was undeniable. It wasn't a trick, and it wasn't an illusion. It was an absolute fortune, handed over simply to apologize for a few missed sparring sessions.
Vilkas, always the more pragmatic and level-headed of the twins, stepped forward, his heavy iron greatsword resting casually against his shoulder. His sharp eyes evaluated the High Elf, noting the complete lack of arrogance in Aerion's posture.
"Alright then, Elf," Vilkas said, his deep voice cutting through the stunned silence of the yard. "Since you have decided to formally absolve our arrangement and have more than adequately compensated us for the lost time, the contract ends here. We will part ways."
Vilkas offered a firm, respectful nod, recognizing a man of his word, even if that man was an eccentric magic user. "If you ever find yourself requiring the services of a blade, or if you wish to hire a formal contract for beast-clearing, you know where to find us. Jorrvaskr's doors are always open to paying clients."
"I thank you, Vilkas, for your understanding and for the lessons you have imparted," Aerion replied, dipping his head in a graceful, respectful bow.
He then turned his golden eyes back to Aela. The Huntress was still staring at the gold in her hand, her fierce brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and lingering irritation.
"And I will certainly be looking to hire the Companions in the future when I require top tier, expert assistance," Aerion continued, his voice taking on a smooth, complimentary cadence. "Particularly you, Aela. Your skill in archery and your unparalleled ability to track prey through the harshest environments is renowned throughout the entirety of the hold. I would accept no substitute."
Aela blinked, snapping out of her momentary daze. The blatant, highly targeted compliment caught her completely off guard. She immediately defaulted to her abrasive, fiercely independent persona, letting out a sharp, dismissive snort.
"I will hold you to that, Elf," Aela fired back, placing a hand on her hip. "But do not hold your breath. I am a highly busy woman. Between the beast clearing, the local bounties, and my own hunts, I do not know when you will actually find me free to take your coin."
Aerion offered a small, knowing smile, gently shaking his head. He knew exactly what the future held for the Circle, and he knew how desperate they would become once the Silver Hand escalated the war. "Do not worry yourself over scheduling, Aela. When the time comes for me to seek your bow... you will be free."
Before Aela could dissect the strange, prophetic certainty in his words, Aerion turned gracefully on his heel. He offered a final, sweeping nod of farewell to Farkas and Athis, and began walking back toward the stone steps leading out of the courtyard.
Jenassa, who had been standing like a coiled viper the entire time, offered the Companions a single, respectful nod of a fellow killer, before silently falling into step behind her patron. Lupin, having sat patiently near the weapon racks, let out a sharp, cheerful yip and trotted quickly after his master, his bushy cinnamon tail swaying happily.
The four members of the Circle stood in the yard, watching the strange trio disappear down the steps.
The moment they were out of earshot, the Dunmer warrior, Athis, slowly walked over to the grinding stone, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"Did any of you feel that?" Athis asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the empty stone archway. "He is entirely different from the man who walked into this yard several days ago. His posture... the way he carries himself. His arm muscles are much more refined beneath those robes. He walked into a yard surrounded by four armed veterans, and he exuded the aura of an absolute expert. Albeit, an expert who is actively trying to hide his edge."
Farkas let out a low, rumbling grunt, rubbing the back of his neck. His inner wolf, highly attuned to the scent of predators and power, had been on edge the entire conversation. "Athis is right. I could feel it too. My instincts were screaming at me the moment he stepped into the yard. He smells like ash and ozone. He's been killing. A lot."
Vilkas slammed the tip of his greatsword into the dirt, leaning heavily on the pommel. His strategic mind was rapidly analyzing the situation.
"Then we leave him be," Vilkas commanded firmly, looking at his shield siblings. "We hold ourselves back from making an enemy of this man. He is a mysterious, incredibly rich High Elf mage who is rapidly accumulating martial power. We do not want to wake up in the middle of the night to find Jorrvaskr suddenly catching fire, or discover that some other 'bad magical stuff' has happened to the mead hall."
Vilkas gestured toward the archway. "Furthermore, did you see the shadow standing behind him? That Dark Elf reeked of fresh blood and cold steel. We do not know how many new 'friends' he has been making out there in the wilds, or what kind of army he is buying with all that gold he have."
Aela tightened her grip on the heavy coin pouch, her green eyes narrowing dangerously. The mystery surrounding the Altmer was grating on her predatory instincts.
"Do not worry, brothers," Aela murmured, a cold, determined smile touching her lips. "I will look into it. I have contacts in the taverns and the guard barracks. I will ask around, dig up some information, and find out exactly what the Elf has been doing to sharpen his fangs."
Meanwhile, Aerion, Jenassa, and Lupin descended the winding stone steps from Jorrvaskr, arriving back at the sprawling plaza surrounding the Gildergreen tree.
Aerion paused, turning to his bodyguard. The morning sun was climbing higher into the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.
"Jenassa, you can go return to the Bannered Mare ahead of me," Aerion instructed, keeping his voice low. "I have an errand to run in the lower market. I need to securely procure the capital required for my impending meeting with Ysolda. It is a highly sensitive withdrawal, and it is best if I handle it alone."
Jenassa did not question the order. She knew better than to pry into the financial secrets of a man who could pull solid gold ingots out of thin air. "Understood, Patron. I will secure our perimeter at the tavern and await your arrival."
With a crisp nod, the Dark Elf turned and headed down the central thoroughfare toward the Plains District.
Aerion watched her go until she blended into the morning crowd. Satisfied that he was unobserved by his own security, he turned and walked in the opposite direction, following the curving stone path that led down toward the massive main gates of Whiterun.
His destination was Warmaiden's, the premier blacksmithing forge located right next to the city entrance.
After several minutes of walking, passing by the bustling stalls and the shouting street vendors, Aerion arrived at the forge. The heat radiating from the roaring furnace was palpable even from the street, carrying the sharp, metallic tang of molten iron and hot coal.
Adrianne Avenicci, the master blacksmith, was already hard at work. Her face was smeared with soot, her muscular arms swinging a heavy iron hammer down onto a glowing steel sword blank.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
Aerion approached cautiously, sticking to the shadows of the adjacent guard tower. He was incredibly fortunate. Adrianne was currently deeply engaged in a loud, aggressive haggling match with a pair of adventures from the looks of it, who were trying to order some equipments for their adventure outside. The customers completely blocked her line of sight to the alleyway running alongside the forge.
This was the perfect opportunity.
Aerion crouched slightly. He moved with impossible, silent grace, his leather boots making absolutely no sound against the cobblestones. He slipped past the massive, roaring smelter, hugging the wooden wall of the shop until he reached the narrow, cluttered alleyway directly behind the forge.
In the actual reality of Tamriel, there should have been nothing back here but discarded slag, empty coal barrels, and piles of scrap iron.
But Aerion was playing by a slightly modified set of rules.
Tucked away in the absolute deepest, darkest corner of the alley, perfectly obscured from the street and the forge by a large stack of wooden crates, were five completely identical, beautifully carved wooden chests. They looked entirely out of place, lacking any dust or wear. These were the developer mod chests he had utilized upon his first arrival.
Aerion knelt in the dirt, a triumphant smile crossing his face. Time seemed to slow down as his gamer instincts took over.
He threw open the heavy lid of the first chest. The interior was a chaotic, disorganized mess of high level armor, enchanted weapons, and spell tomes. But Aerion ignored the gear. He plunged his hands deep into the pile and pulled out a massive, heavy sack of gold.
[Gold Acquired: 5,000 Septims]
He slammed the first chest shut and immediately opened the second. Another heavy sack of gold was retrieved.
[Gold Acquired: 5,000 Septims]
He moved with methodical, rapid precision. Third chest. Fourth chest. Fifth chest. He looted the base currency from every single one of the developer containers. The massive influx of wealth flowed directly into his spatial inventory, the digital counter in his mind skyrocketing.
[Gold Acquired: 25,000 Septims]
As he was about to close the final chest, a faint, glowing blue light caught his eye from beneath a pile of ebony gauntlets. He reached down and pulled out a pristine, leather-bound book. The cover was embossed with the swirling, defensive runes of the Restoration school.
[Spell Tome Detected: Lesser Ward]
[Would you like to absorb the magical knowledge contained within this tome? YES / NO]
Aerion mentally selected YES.
The book flashed with a brilliant, soothing blue light that rushed directly into his chest. A sudden, profound understanding of magical shielding flooded his mind. He instantly grasped the complex, geometric weaves required to project his magicka outward, creating a concentrated, shimmering barrier of pure magical energy capable of deflecting hostile spells and absorbing kinetic impacts.
He had essentially just downloaded a magical riot shield directly into his brain.
With the knowledge secured, he safely stored the physical book into his inventory, letting the heavy lid of the fifth chest fall shut with a soft thud.
His illicit business concluded, Aerion remained in his crouch. He waited patiently for the sound of Adrianne's hammer to resume its rhythmic striking, masking any noise he might make. Using the cover of the thick, billowing black smoke pouring from the smelter, he ghosted his way out of the alleyway, slipping back onto the main street entirely unnoticed.
He straightened his robes, brushed a fleck of soot from his sleeve, and walked calmly back up the street, looking like nothing more than a wealthy noble taking a morning stroll. Lupin trotted happily beside him, completely oblivious to the massive heist his master had just pulled off.
A short walk later, Aerion pushed through the heavy wooden doors of the Bannered Mare.
The interior of the tavern was bathed in the soft, dusty light of mid morning. It was the quietest hour of the day. The boisterous crowds from the night before were long gone, replaced by a few solitary patrons nursing hangovers in the dark corners, quietly sipping warm ale and eating stale bread.
Aerion's eyes immediately swept the room, easily locating his assets.
Jenassa was standing near the back, leaning casually against one of the heavy wooden load bearing pillars. She looked entirely relaxed, but Aerion noted the way her crimson eyes tracked every single movement in the room. When she saw him enter, she offered a subtle, singular nod of acknowledgment, confirming the perimeter was secure.
Sitting on a tall wooden stool at the main counter, her hands wrapped nervously around a ceramic mug of herbal tea, was Ysolda. Behind the counter, methodically wiping down the polished wood with a damp rag, was Hulda the innkeeper.
Aerion walked confidently across the tavern floor and took a seat on the empty stool directly beside Ysolda.
"Good morning to you both," Aerion greeted them, his melodic voice warm and polite.
Ysolda nearly jumped, startled from her deep thoughts, but a bright, relieved smile quickly spread across her face when she saw him. "Aerion! Good morning. I am so glad you are here."
Hulda looked up from her cleaning, offering a tired but genuine smile. "Morning, Aerion. You're up early after a long journey. Can I get you some breakfast? Or perhaps some mead to cut the morning chill?"
"Just water for now, thank you, Hulda," Aerion replied politely.
Ysolda leaned slightly toward him, her voice dropping to a nervous whisper. She looked at him with wide, seeking eyes. "Are you ready, Aerion? Are you truly certain about this?"
Aerion met her gaze, his golden eyes radiating absolute, unshakeable confidence. "I am perfectly ready, Ysolda. We proceed as planned."
Hulda, hearing the hushed, conspiratorial tone between the young merchant and the wealthy High Elf, stopped wiping the counter. She rested her hands on the wood, looking between the two of them with a mixture of deep curiosity and mild suspicion.
"What are the two of you whispering about over here?" Hulda asked, raising a graying eyebrow. "Are you plotting to steal my sweetroll recipe?"
Ysolda took a deep, steadying breath. She sat up straighter, her posture shifting from that of a nervous dreamer to a focused, determined businesswoman. She leaned across the counter, gesturing for Hulda to come closer.
When the older woman leaned in, Ysolda spoke in a low, measured voice that only the three of them could hear over the crackle of the hearth.
"Hulda," Ysolda began, her voice remarkably steady. "Aerion and I have talked several days ago discussing the future. We have decided to become formal business partners. And... we would like to purchase the Bannered Mare from you. Today."
Hulda actually dropped her damp rag. It hit the floorboards with a wet smack.
The veteran innkeeper stared at Ysolda, her jaw slightly slack, absolute shock radiating from her weathered features. She had known for years that Ysolda coveted the inn, and she had even promised to sell it to the girl eventually. But 'eventually' was supposed to be several months or even a year or two down the line, not on a random Turdas morning.
"Purchase the Mare?" Hulda whispered, her eyes darting between Ysolda and Aerion. "Together? Why the sudden rush? And why a partnership with a man you barely know, child?"
Ysolda offered a small, confident smile, glancing at the High Elf. "Let us just say that Aerion has convinced me with his profound knowledge of the current state of the world. With the civil war escalating and trade routes shifting, we both agreed that the perfect time to secure this asset is right now, before the market becomes too volatile."
Ysolda folded her hands on the counter, getting down to the raw numbers. "I remember our previous conversations, Hulda. You agreed that the fair market value for the Bannered Mare, including the property, the existing stock, and the established clientele, was fifty five thousand septims."
Hulda nodded slowly, still trying to process the sudden reality of the situation. "Aye. That was the price we discussed. But Ysolda, sweetheart, you don't have that kind of coin."
"I do now," Ysolda corrected her gently. "Through years of saving and trading, I currently have twenty seven thousand septims in liquid capital. My partner, Aerion, has graciously agreed to provide the remaining twenty eight thousand septims to meet your asking price."
Ysolda leaned in, her eyes shining with determination. "If you agree to the deal right now, Hulda, I will go to my home and bring you my twenty seven thousand septims first thing tomorrow morning."
Ysolda then turned her head, looking directly at Aerion, silently asking him to confirm his end of the bargain. "And what about your funds, Aerion? Are you prepared to finalize your share?"
Aerion smiled warmly. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the polished wood.
"I have the funds entirely secured," Aerion lied flawlessly, his voice smooth as silk. "I actually anticipated that we might finalize the negotiations today. I have twenty eight thousand septims currently sitting in a small, locked leather sack in my suite upstairs."
He looked directly into Hulda's shocked eyes. "If you accept our proposition, Hulda, I can go upstairs and retrieve my share of the capital right now. You could have over half the payment in your hands before noon."
Hulda stared at the High Elf for a long, silent moment. She looked around the tavern, at the scuffed floorboards she had swept a thousand times, the heavy wooden tables she had scrubbed clean of spilled blood and ale, and the roaring hearth fire she had tended every single winter.
She had given her entire life to this building. It was her home, her sanctuary, and her greatest burden.
She was tired. The long nights, the drunken brawls, the constant stress of managing shipments, it had worn her down to the bone. She had always dreamed of retiring to a quiet little farm, perhaps down in Falkreath or the peaceful hills of the Rift, far away from the noise and the chaos of the city.
Suddenly, the reality of that dream was sitting directly in front of her, wrapped in a small leather sack upstairs.
Hulda let out a sudden, wet chuckle, shaking her head as a tear of pure, overwhelming relief welled up in the corner of her eye.
"By the Divines..." Hulda breathed, a wide, genuine smile breaking across her face. "This is truly happening, then. It's a bit different than the plan we originally discussed, Ysolda, but if a partnership is what you've decided upon... then yes. I agree. We have a deal."
Hulda reached across the counter and grabbed Ysolda's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I accept your offer. Fifty five thousand septims. It is time for me to finally rest, child. The Mare is going to be yours."
Hearing those words, the stoic, mercantile facade Ysolda had built completely shattered. She let out a loud, joyous squeak of absolute delight. Tears of pure happiness flooded her eyes. She practically threw herself over the wide wooden counter, wrapping her arms tightly around Hulda's neck in a massive, fiercely emotional hug.
"Thank you, Hulda! Thank you so much!" Ysolda wept happily, burying her face in the older woman's shoulder. "I promise, I will take perfectly good care of her. She will remain the best tavern in all of Skyrim!"
Aerion sat back on his stool, a genuine, warm smile touching his lips as he watched the emotional exchange. He had just secured ownership of the most crucial information hub and central property in the entire province, and he had made a young woman's lifelong dream come true in the process. It was a flawless victory.
"I will leave you two to celebrate for a moment," Aerion announced softly, standing up from his stool. "I will go upstairs and fetch my share of the capital to officially cement our new our new partnership."
With a polite nod, Aerion turned and walked toward the wooden stairs, his mind already calculating the logistics of withdrawing exactly twenty eight thousand septims from the infinite void of his inventory, ensuring the heavy canvas sack looked adequately bulging and legitimate.
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 320/320 Stamina: 310/310 Magicka: 450/450 Level: 65
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level MAX/62), Persuasion (Level 77), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 26), One Handed (Level 67), Restoration (Healing) (Level 37), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 23), Archery (Level 72), Alteration (Level 4), Enchanting (Level 19), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 60), Illusion (Level 6), Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Steel Dagger of Minor Souls, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Ancient Nord Bow, Dragonstone, Ancient Nord Battleaxe Of Blaze, & Potion of Minor Pickpocketing
2x Iron Mace, Steel Axe, Steel Greatsword, & Lockpicks
3x Iron Greatsword, Steel Sword, Scroll Of Fireball, Glowing Mushrooms, & Potions of Minor Stamina
4x Potions of Minor Magicka & Spider Eggs
5x Lesser Soul Gem
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 109.07 KG / 455 KG
Septims = 80,302