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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"The transport operation was a complete success," Sinmir stated proudly, gesturing toward the makeshift built storage sheds located near the sprawling mammoth pens. "The bones and scales from the blood dragon at Shearpoint were successfully recovered. The entire haul from both sites has been transported, cataloged, and secured under heavy protection. The wagons have been returned to the city, and the drivers were paid for their silence."
"Excellent work, Sinmir. Your efficiency is—"
"THANE AERION!"
The sudden, incredibly loud, booming voice echoed across the entire courtyard, completely cutting off the High Elf's praise.
Aerion turned, his golden eyes widening slightly in genuine surprise.
Riding through the open gates of the estate was not a merchant, and it was not a courier. Sitting tall atop a massive, beautifully groomed chestnut stallion was Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.
The ruler of Whiterun was not wearing his casual, comfortable court robes. He was clad in fine, heavy steel riding armor, a thick fur cloak draped over his broad shoulders. He looked every inch the fierce, ancient Nordic Jarl he was.
Riding immediately to the Jarl's right, her dark eyes scanning the courtyard with absolute, lethal paranoia, was Irileth. The Dunmer Housecarl had her hand resting casually on the hilt of her blade, ready to draw at the slightest provocation.
Flanking the Jarl and his bodyguard were twelve elite Whiterun guards, clad in pristine yellow and steel armor, riding in a tight, highly disciplined protective formation.
The arrival of the sovereign brought the entire estate to a sudden, grinding halt. The mercenaries in the courtyard immediately stopped their drills, standing at rigid attention. Sinmir and Lydia instantly bowed their heads in deep respect.
Aerion quickly composed himself, smoothing his robes and stepping forward to play the perfect, gracious host.
"Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion greeted him, offering a deep, aristocratic bow as the ruler brought his stallion to a halt in the center of the yard. "This is an unexpected honor. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence so far beyond the city walls?"
Jarl Balgruuf let out a rich, booming laugh, effortlessly swinging down from his saddle. He handed the reins to one of his guards and clapped his heavy, leather gloved hands together against the evening chill.
"I simply needed some fresh air, Aerion!" Jarl Balgruuf smiled warmly, though his sharp, intelligent eyes were already meticulously cataloging the sheer scale of the fortifications around him. "Staying cooped up in the Great Porch of Dragonsreach, listening to Proventus complain about the grain stores and the treasury day in and day out... it isn't healthy for a man's soul in the long run. A Jarl needs to feel the wind on his face."
He took a few steps forward, looking up at the high wooden palisades, the bustling mercenary barracks, and the towering stone smelter of the forge. The smile remained on his face, but a quiet, profound political weight settled into his posture.
"But I must admit," Balgruuf continued, his voice dropping to a more conversational, probing register, "I also became incredibly curious about this estate of yours. The rumors flowing into the city have been... highly colorful."
The Jarl turned to look directly at Aerion.
"I of course knew about your vast herd of mammoths that have been tamed like simple cattle and wanted to see it for myself for the first time," Jarl Balgruuf noted, gesturing toward the massive pens in the distance where the giant beasts were rumbling quietly. "And, more importantly... I have heard whispers among the stable hands about massive wagons hauling ancient bone across the tundra."
Jarl Balgruuf took a step closer, the casual facade entirely dropping, revealing the calculating ruler beneath. "I saw the remains of the beast you and Aeloria slew at the Western Watchtower with my own eyes, Aerion," he said quietly, his gaze piercing. "It was a nightmare of ash and bone. Now, my scouts tell me you are stockpiling the remains of even more dragons here at your homestead."
The Jarl crossed his arms, his expression a mix of deep respect and quiet, wary assessment. He was looking at a Thane who hired a group private mercenaries, have immense wealth, and the physical remains of mythological creatures.
"I came," Jarl Balgruuf finished, his voice steady, "because I wanted to see for myself if there is any difference between the beast that burned my tower, and the new horrors you have brought down from the sky."
Aerion held the Jarl's gaze. He understood the subtext perfectly. Balgruuf wasn't just here to look at bones, he was here to personally assess the raw, terrifying power that one of his Thanes was rapidly accumulating right on his doorstep.
Aerion smiled, a graceful, completely transparent expression of loyalty.
"Then I would be absolutely honored to show you, my Jarl," Aerion replied smoothly, extending an arm to guide the ruler deeper into the estate. "Please, walk with me. The bones of the old world are quite the sight in the evening light."
Aerion returned the Jarl's assessing gaze with a perfectly composed, welcoming smile. He extended an elegant arm toward the sprawling, fenced pastures on the eastern side of the estate, where the massive silhouettes of the mammoths moved sluggishly in the twilight.
"If you wish to see the wonders of the estate, Jarl Balgruuf, we shall begin with the most lively of them," Aerion offered smoothly. "Please, follow me."
Jarl Balgruuf nodded, falling into step beside the High Elf. Irileth immediately moved to the Jarl's right side, her dark eyes darting across the mercenary patrols and the fortified walls, while the twelve elite Whiterun guards formed a loose but impenetrable semi circle behind them.
As they walked across the packed dirt of the courtyard, the sharp, metallic sounds of the forge faded, replaced by the deep, resonant rumbling and the heavy, earthy scent of sweet hay, turned soil, and coarse fur.
They approached the massive wooden enclosures. The fences were built from thick, whole tree trunks, driven deep into the ground and bound with heavy iron chains, the only thing capable of containing animals that weighed several tons each. Inside the sprawling pen, the two male and four female mammoths were casually pulling mouthfuls of imported hay from a massive wooden trough.
When the large group of armored men approached the fence, the mammoths naturally paused. Their massive ears flared slightly, and their long, curved tusks swayed as they turned to assess the intruders.
Irileth's hand tightened around the leather wrapped grip of her sword. "My Jarl," she warned in a low, sharp whisper. "Do not step too close to the timber. They are wild, unpredictable beasts. A single charge could shatter this fence into splinters."
"Peace, Irileth," Aerion murmured, his voice a calm, soothing current. "There is absolutely no danger here."
Without breaking his stride, Aerion stepped up to the heavy wooden fence and opened the wooden door, landing softly in the hay strewn dirt directly inside the enclosure.
The Whiterun guards visibly tensed, several of them instinctively reaching for their spears. Even Jarl Balgruuf's eyes widened in genuine alarm. To walk unarmed into a confined space with four adult mammoths was usually a flamboyant method of committing suicide.
But Aerion did not project fear, and he did not project dominance. He have activated his max level Animal Affinity skill.
He didn't cast a visible spell. Instead, an invisible, overwhelming aura of profound empathy, absolute trust, and deeply ingrained safety radiated from his transmigrator soul, washing over the massive beasts.
The reaction was immediate and entirely disarming.
The mammoths did not trumpet in alarm, nor did they stamp their massive, tree trunk legs in a threat display. The tension visibly melted from their massive frames. The largest of the four females let out a low, vibrating rumble that sounded remarkably like a massive purr. She took a heavy, deliberate step forward, lowering her colossal head.
Aerion stood perfectly still, a warm smile gracing his aristocratic features.
The mammoth extended its long, muscular trunk, the prehensile tip gently exploring the fabric of his dark robes. It was an incredibly delicate touch from a creature capable of crushing a carriage. The trunk moved up, lightly nudging Aerion's shoulder, before resting affectionately against his chest.
It was exactly like watching a loyal hound greet its master after a long hunt, only magnified to a mythological scale.
"By the breath of Kyne..." Jarl Balgruuf whispered, his voice hushed with absolute, unadulterated awe. He stepped right up to the fence, his hands gripping the thick timber as he watched the High Elf stroke the beast's coarse, wire like hair.
Aerion reached up, gently scratching the mammoth behind its massive ear flap.
"You have all done exceptionally well today," Aerion praised them softly, his melodic voice carrying across the enclosure. "The milk you have provided is of the highest quality. Once the first batch of cheese has fully fermented in the cellars, you will be properly rewarded. I know you tasted the curds last week, and you know exactly how excellent it is."
As if completely understanding his words, the mammoth lifted its trunk into the cool evening air and let out a short, heavy, trumpet like sound of sheer excitement. The other three females joined in, a chorus of deep, vibrating rumbles that shook the dust from the timber fence, signaling their absolute, eager agreement.
Irileth stared at the scene, her usual mask of cold, lethal paranoia entirely failing her. Her jaw was slightly slack. "I have served in Morrowind and Skyrim for decades," the dark elf murmured, "and I have never seen a mer speak to a mammoth as if it were a lapdog."
Aerion gave the large female one final pat on the trunk before turning back to the fence.
"It is perfectly safe, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion invited, gesturing with a graceful sweep of his hand. "If you wish to come closer you an do so, they are quite amenable to guests. You may touch her."
Jarl Balgruuf's eyes lit up with the fierce undeniable curiosity of a true Nord. He placed a heavy, leather gauntleted hand on the top rail of the fence, preparing to climb over.
"My Jarl, I must strictly protest!" Irileth snapped immediately, stepping in front of him and grabbing his arm. "This is highly irregular! You are the ruler of Whiterun, you cannot risk your life to pet a giant's cattle just because the Thane claims it is safe!"
Jarl Balgruuf let out a rich, booming laugh, gently but firmly prying his Housecarl's hand from his arm.
"Nonsense, Irileth," Jarl Balgruuf dismissed her fears with a broad smile. "Look at them. They are calmer than the horses in my own stables. And I will not have it said that Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was too cowardly to touch a beast that his own Thane keeps as a pet."
Ignoring her continued, frantic protests, Jarl Balgruuf hauled goes to enter into the pen, where she then goes to stand beside Aerion.
The large female mammoth shifted her weight, turning her intelligent, dark eyes toward the newcomer. Aerion simply laid a hand on Balgruuf's shoulder, seamlessly extending the magical aura of absolute trust to encompass the Jarl.
The mammoth let out a soft huff of air, extending its trunk to sniff Jarl Balgruuf's fur cloak.
He stood perfectly still for a moment, the sheer, imposing scale of the creature fully registering as it loomed over him. Then, slowly, he reached out his hand and placed it flat against the mammoth's thick, coarse hide. He felt the immense, radiating heat of the animal, the steady, rhythmic thud of its massive heart echoing through its ribs.
Jarl Balgruuf's face broke into an expression of pure, unrestrained joy. He let out a breathless, booming laugh that echoed across the pastures.
"Marvelous!" Jarl Balgruuf declared, patting the beast's thick side with genuine affection. "Absolutely marvelous! I have hunted these beasts across the tundra in my youth, Aerion, but to stand beside one... to feel the life in it... it is a feeling unlike any other."
He then turned to the High Elf, his eyes shining with deep respect. "You truly are a master of the arcane arts, my friend. To command the minds of beasts this large requires a will of iron."
Aerion offered a modest, deeply respectful bow of his head, maintaining his carefully constructed persona.
"I am merely fortunate that my studies led me to this specific branch of magic, my Jarl," Aerion replied humbly. He then smoothly injected a fabricated limitation to ground his power in reality, preventing the Jarl from thinking he was an infallible god. "Though, I must confess, the drawback is quite severe. Maintaining the emotional tether to keep them this docile drains a vast, continuous amount of my Magicka reserves. I could not sustain it indefinitely in a combat situation."
Jarl Balgruuf nodded sagely, the explanation perfectly aligning with his understanding of how the world worked. Magic always had a cost. "Still. It is a phenomenal achievement, Aerion. Truly."
With the livestock inspected, Jarl Balgruuf goes back through the door, much to Irileth's profound, visible relief.
"Now," Jarl Balgruuf said, dusting the hay from his heavy leather armor, his tone shifting back to the quiet, assessing gravity of a ruler. "Show me the bones."
"This way, my Jarl," Aerion gestured.
He led the royal retinue away from the warm, earthy smells of the mammoth pens, walking toward the heavily fortified, stone-reinforced storage sheds constructed near the rear palisades of the estate. Two heavily armed mercenaries stood guard at the heavy iron doors. When they saw Aerion and the Jarl approaching, they immediately snapped to attention and stepped aside.
Aerion retrieved a heavy iron key from his robes and unlocked the massive deadbolts. He pulled the heavy double doors wide open, allowing the flickering light of the courtyard torches to spill into the dark, cavernous interior.
The air inside was radically different. It was cold, dry, and carried the sharp, unmistakable, metallic tang of ancient marrow and dried blood.
Jarl Balgruuf stepped into the threshold, and he instantly froze.
The sheer, overwhelming volume of the dragon remains defied comprehension. It wasn't just a few skulls or a pile of loose scales. It was a literal mountain of draconic anatomy, meticulously sorted and stacked into massive, towering piles that reached the wooden rafters of the shed.
On the left were the remains of the beast from Kynesgrove, massive, bleached white bones that looked like the petrified roots of ancient oak trees, alongside piles of dull, grayish bronze scales.
In the center were the remains of the blood dragon from Shearpoint. The heavy, diamond hard scales were a deep, mottled crimson, gleaming like rusted iron in the torchlight.
And on the right, neatly organized into heavy wooden crates, were the brilliant, toxic emerald green scales of the dragon they had slain on the open plains just the day before. Three massive, horned skulls rested at the back of the shed, their empty eye sockets staring blindly into the dark.
Jarl Balgruuf walked slowly down the central aisle, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet shed. He reached out, running a leather gloved hand over a single, crimson scale that was the size of a standard heavy shield.
"By the blood of Ysgramor..." He whispered, his voice stripped of all its usual booming bravado. He turned to look at Aerion, his eyes wide with a mixture of absolute shock and profound, political realization.
"I heard the rumors, Aerion, but the reality is staggering," Jarl Balgruuf admitted, shaking his head slowly. "Do you have any concept of the sheer economic value resting in this room? Alchemists, master armorers, court wizards... they would pay a king's ransom for a single uncracked bone. If you were to sell this hoard, properly distributed to the highest bidders in the Empire... you might very well be the wealthiest man in all of Whiterun. Perhaps the wealthiest in Skyrim."
Aerion stepped into the shed, his expression remaining perfectly calm and deliberately humble. He did not look at the hoard with the greedy, calculating eyes of a merchant. He looked at it with the solemn duty of a scholar and a protector.
"The accumulation of wealth was never my objective, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion explained, his melodic voice echoing softly in the cavernous space.
He walked over to the emerald green scales, resting a hand lightly on the crate.
"I collected these remains primarily to ensure they were entirely removed from the field," Aerion reasoned smoothly, weaving his knowledge of the world's mechanics into a believable, highly responsible narrative. "If these beasts are truly returning to life, we cannot risk leaving their physical forms intact on the tundra. I do not know if their dark master can rebuild them from nothing, but I refuse to leave the pieces out for him to try."
Jarl Balgruuf's brow furrowed, the grim logic of denying the enemy resources resonating deeply with his warrior instincts. "A wise precaution. One I should have ordered for the beast at the watchtower."
"Furthermore," Aerion continued, his eyes gleaming with intellectual purpose, "I intend to study them. These bones and scales are steeped in ancient, primordial magic. I believe they still hold profound, latent power. If I can unlock the metallurgical secrets required to forge this material... we may be able to create weapons and armors specifically designed to defend against the dragons in the future."
Jarl Balgruuf stared at the High Elf, his respect solidifying into something unshakeable. Aerion wasn't just killing the threats, he was actively engineering a permanent, provincial defense strategy.
"To forge the very skin of our enemy into a shield for our people," Jarl Balgruuf murmured, a fierce, proud smile touching his lips. He clapped Aerion heavily on the shoulder. "It is a bold ambition, Thane Aerion. I deeply approve. I can only hope your research produces tangible results soon. The skies are growing darker by the day."
"I share that hope, my Jarl," Aerion nodded respectfully. "I will not rest until the solution is found."
With the inspection concluded and the political trust between them vastly deepened, Aerion locked the heavy iron doors of the shed.
They walked back out into the open courtyard. The evening had fully set in, the stars beginning to pierce through the gray clouds above the tundra.
As they approached the main house, the heavy wooden doors opened. Aeloria and Valdemar stepped out onto the porch. Aeloria was dressed in her casual, comfortable tunics, but she carried the undeniable, dense aura of a warrior who had recently faced death.
Seeing the Jarl of Whiterun standing in their courtyard, Aeloria and Valdemar immediately stepped down from the porch, bowing their heads in deep, respectful greetings.
"Jarl Balgruuf," Aeloria greeted him warmly.
"Dragonborn," Jarl Balgruuf smiled, returning the nod. He looked between Aeloria and Aerion, clearly seeing the unbreakable, battle forged bond between his two most powerful Thanes. It was a comforting sight for a ruler surrounded by political vipers.
"I will not take up any more of your time, Aerion," Jatl Balgruuf announced, turning back to his horse. "I have seen what I came to see, and my mind is vastly more at ease knowing that the defense of our borders is in such capable, proactive hands. Rest well. The city will need you both."
"Safe travels back to the city, my Jarl," Aerion bowed gracefully.
Jarl Balgruuf swung up into his saddle, Irileth and the guards quickly following suit. With a final wave, the royal retinue spurred their horses, riding out through the heavy wooden gates and disappearing into the darkening plains.
As the gates groaned shut behind them, Aerion dropped his perfectly manicured aristocratic host persona, his posture shifting instantly into the sharp, focused stance of a military commander.
He turned to Aeloria, gesturing for her to walk with him away from the bustling mercenaries.
"I trust you have rested, Aeloria," Aerion began quietly, ensuring their conversation remained private.
"I have," Aeloria nodded, her blue eyes sharp. "What happened in Solitude, Aerion? You look like you're preparing for another war."
"I am," Aerion confirmed bluntly. "I have just received my new, direct assignment from General Tullius and Legate Rikke."
Aeloria crossed her arms, leaning against a wooden support pillar. "What are the orders?"
"My immediate duties are twofold," Aerion explained, his voice low and serious. "First, I am to travel entirely undercover into the eastern territories. I will be infiltrating Winterhold, Dawnstar, Riften, and the rebel capital of Windhelm to gather raw intelligence on the Stormcloak supply lines and troop movements."
Aeloria's eyes widened in genuine alarm. "Aerion, that is incredibly dangerous. You are a High Elf. If you walk into the Gray Quarter of Windhelm asking questions about Ulfric's army, they won't just arrest you, they will lynch you in the streets."
"I am well aware of the racial hostility of the east, Aeloria," Aerion smiled faintly, completely unbothered by the prospect. "But I have my methods of moving unseen. You need not worry about my survival."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression turning grave.
"The second part of my assignment is precisely why I need you," Aerion continued. "General Tullius is deeply concerned about Stormcloak infiltration inside Dragonsreach. He fears that Ulfric, unable to win Balgruuf over with diplomacy, may resort to quiet persuasion, political blackmail, or vastly more direct methods. Assassination. Kidnapping the Jarl's children to force his surrender."
Aeloria stiffened, her protective instincts instantly flaring at the thought of the Jarl's family being targeted in the dark.
"Since you are also a named Thane of Whiterun," Aerion pressed gently, weaponizing her sense of duty, "you possess the unquestioned authority to move freely through the halls of Dragonsreach. I need you to be my proxy while I am in the east. Keep your eyes open. Watch the councilors. Watch the servants. I am asking you to help me keep the Jarl safe. It is our duty to protect this hold."
Aeloria did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. She placed her hand over his. "You don't even need to ask, Aerion," Aeloria agreed fiercely, her blue eyes burning with resolve. "I will practically be like living in Dragonsreach while you are gone. If anyone so much as looks at the Jarl or his children with ill intent, they will have to deal with the Axe of Morthal in my hand. You do not need to worry about Whiterun."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 710/710 Stamina: 740/740 Magicka: 950/950
Level: 200
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 73/91/70), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 50/75), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/90), Persuasion(+2) (Level 19), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 33), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting(+1) (Level 23), Light Armor(+2) (Level 0), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii Gron (Fade Spirit Bind), Su (Air), Laas (Life), Yol Toor (Fire Inferno), Kaan (Kyne), & Zul Mey Gut (Voice Fool Far)
[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, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Gold Emerald Circlet, Scroll of Fire Storm, Iron Garnet Circlet, Iron Sapphire Circlet, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, Dwarven Shield, Wuuthrad's Fragments, Krosis's Mask, Staff of Fireball, Nordic Carved Armor Of Health, Nordic Carved Gauntlets Of Splinter, & Nordic Carved Boots Of Weight
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: 113.21 KG / 670 KG
Septims: 81,082