If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
As Aerion and his heavily armed entourage approached the base of the stone steps, the ambient conversation in the great hall died completely. Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward on his throne, resting his chin on his fist. His sharp, calculating eyes locked directly onto the High Elf, while Irileth's crimson eyes narrowed suspiciously at Aeloria's Imperial armor. The court of Dragonsreach was waiting.
As Aerion and his group reached the base of the stone steps leading up to the throne, Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His sharp eyes swept over the group, taking in the soot, the fatigue, and the Imperial armor.
"Aerion. Jenassa," Jarl Balgruuf greeted, his deep, commanding voice echoing clearly across the silent hall. He offered a polite, if deeply curious, nod. "Welcome back to Dragonsreach. I must admit, when I saw you from afar walking up here to talk with me, I expected you to be boasting of your new agricultural success."
Balgruuf gestured vaguely with a calloused hand toward the strange company standing behind the High Elf. "But seeing the state of your robes, and the unique company you have brought into my hall today, including a young boy, an old hunter, and a woman clad in the armor of the Imperial Legion, I assume this visit is not to discuss your mammoth farm."
Aerion placed his right hand over his heart, offering a smooth, flawlessly respectful bow of his head.
"You are incredibly perceptive, my Jarl," Aerion replied, his melodic voice ringing with calm, absolute clarity. "I return your greeting with the utmost respect. And while it is true that I has successfully relocated a herd of six fully grown mammoths into the new enclosure without incident, you are entirely correct. I have not come to discuss agriculture."
Aerion straightened his posture, his golden eyes meeting the Jarl's squarely. The aristocratic charm faded, replaced by the grim, serious demeanor of a war messenger.
"I have come to report on Helgen," Aerion stated.
Balgruuf's brow furrowed slightly. He sat back in his throne, crossing his arms. "Helgen? The Imperial border fortress in Falkreath? What business took you to the southern mountains, and what could have possibly happened there that requires my immediate attention? Why bring some civilians into my court?"
Aerion smoothly deployed his fabricated, yet perfectly logical, cover story.
"What I am about to tell you, Jarl Balgruuf, will sound like the ravings of a man who has consumed too much Skooma," Aerion prefaced, his tone deadpan and completely serious. "But I swear to you upon my honor, it is the absolute truth. Yesterday, Jenassa and I rode south toward the Cyrodiilic border. I was seeking a specific, highly volatile magical reagent that only grows in the high alpine passes of the Jerall Mountains to further my arcane research."
He paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a fraction of a second to build the tension.
"We stopped in Helgen to rest for the night," Aerion continued. "And early this morning, the Imperial Legion marched through the gates. General Tullius had executed a highly classified maneuver. He successfully ambushed the main column of the Stormcloak rebellion at Darkwater Crossing. He captured Ulfric Stormcloak, and his top lieutenants, and brought them directly into the Helgen courtyard to be executed immediately, without trial."
The reaction was instantaneous and explosive.
Clatter. A silver goblet dropped from the hands of a Battle-Born noble at the side table, spilling wine across the polished wood. The entire hall erupted into a wave of frantic, shocked murmurs.
Jarl Balgruuf violently surged to his feet. The exhaustion completely vanished from his face, replaced by absolute, unadulterated political shock.
"Ulfric? Captured?!" Balgruuf roared, his booming voice instantly silencing the murmuring nobles. He stared down at the High Elf, his eyes wide. "By the Gods... Aerion, are you certain? You saw him with your own eyes? If Tullius had the Kingslayer on the chopping block, the rebellion is over!"
"I am absolutely certain, my Jarl. I saw the bear fur coat. I saw the gag in his mouth. He was seconds away from the headsman's axe," Aerion nodded gravely.
He gestured to the people standing behind him. "If you doubt my word, you may ask Jenassa, or any of the people I have brought with me. They were all present in the execution square."
Aerion stepped slightly to the side, gesturing smoothly to the old hunter. "Allow me to introduce Froki Whetted-Blade, and his grandson, Haming. They were refugess entering in to yhe town."
Balgruuf offered a brief, respectful nod to the old man, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the fierce, brown haired woman standing proudly in the stolen Imperial armor.
"And her?" Irileth demanded sharply, stepping slightly in front of the Jarl, her crimson eyes locked suspiciously onto Aeloria. "If General Tullius was executing traitors, why is a woman in Legion armor traveling with you? Is she a deserter?"
"She is neither a deserter nor a rebel, Housecarl," Aerion defended smoothly, laying the groundwork for Aeloria's absolute innocence. He believed in controlling the narrative through strategic honesty.
"This is Aeloria Frostveil," Aerion introduced her. "And the reason she stands before you is a matter of profound Imperial incompetence. She was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, hunting near the border when the ambush occurred. The Imperial Captain in charge of the roster was a bloodthirsty fool who refused to listen to reason. Aeloria was thrown into the wagons and slated for execution alongside the Stormcloaks, despite being entirely innocent."
Balgruuf frowned deeply, disgust crossing his features. "Typical Imperial bureaucracy. Kill first, ask questions never."
"Indeed," Aerion agreed. "However, during the absolute chaos that subsequently engulfed the town, I managed to secure her safety. Furthermore, a high ranking Imperial soldier, a man named Hadvar, who is native to Riverwood and currently resting there, personally witnessed her innocence and officially pardoned her on behalf of the Legion. She is a free woman."
Jarl Balgruuf remained silent for a long, heavy moment. He looked from Aerion's calm, golden face to Aeloria's soot stained features.
Balgruuf let out a slow, heavy breath, easing himself back down onto his wooden throne.
"You are a remarkably honest man, Aerion," Balgruuf noted, genuine respect coloring his tone. "Most men would have simply stripped her of that armor, dressed her in rags, and lied about her origins to avoid drawing my guards' suspicion. I appreciate the transparency."
Aeloria, who had remained quiet during the political exchange, finally stepped forward. She did not bow or grovel. She stood tall, her posture radiating the innate, undeniable pride of a true daughter of Skyrim.
"I allowed Aerion to tell you the absolute truth, Jarl Balgruuf, because it is exactly what happened," Aeloria spoke, her voice clear and surprisingly commanding for a woman who had nearly lost her head hours ago. "I am no Stormcloak, and I have been officially pardoned by a man who recognized my innocence."
She placed her hand firmly on the leather cuirass covering her chest.
"And the only reason I am wearing this Imperial armor," Aeloria continued, her blue eyes blazing with the memory of the morning's horror, "is because I stripped it from a chest to protect myself while we were fleeing through the collapsing tunnels beneath the keep. Because before the headsman could drop his axe on my neck... Helgen was attacked by a dragon."
Bomb number two dropped directly into the center of the Great Hall.
For a span of three seconds, the silence in Dragonsreach was absolute. It was so quiet that Aerion could hear the crackling of the pine logs in the fire trench.
Then, the court exploded.
"Madness!" a gray bearded clan patriarch shouted from the left table, slamming his fist down.
"A dragon? The girl is clearly traumatized and hallucinating!" another noble scoffed loudly. "Dragons have been dead for thousands of years!"
"Silence in the hall!" Irileth roared, drawing her steel sword an inch from its scabbard. The sharp, metallic threat instantly quieted the panicking nobles.
Jarl Balgruuf did not yell. He leaned forward, gripping the carved armrests of his throne so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes ignored Aeloria entirely, snapping directly back to the High Elf he had come to trust as a man of absolute, cold logic.
"Aerion," Balgruuf demanded, his voice dangerously low. "A dragon? You are a scholar of the arcane. You deal in facts, not fairy tales. Look me in the eye and tell me if what this woman claims is true."
Aerion did not flinch. He met the Jarl's intense gaze with absolute, unyielding gravity.
"It is the undeniable, catastrophic truth, my Jarl," Aerion confirmed, his voice echoing clearly over the crackling fire. "A beast from the ancient legends. It was massive, with scales the color of obsidian. It descended from the clouds and shattered the observation tower with a single impact. It breathed a torrent of fire so intensely hot it melted the cobblestones of the courtyard into slag."
Aerion let the horrific imagery sink in before delivering the final, tactical blow.
"It was not a raid, Jarl Balgruuf. It was an annihilation," Aerion stated coldly. "Helgen has been entirely burned and destroyed to the ground. The Imperial garrison was slaughtered. And worse... the apocalyptic chaos the beast caused completely shattered the Imperial shield wall. In the confusion, Ulfric Stormcloak and his surviving men managed to break their bonds and disappear into the tunnels. The Kingslayer is free."
Balgruuf let out a long, shuddering sigh, the air rushing from his lungs as if he had been punched in the gut. He sank deeply into the furs of his throne, raising a calloused hand to rub his temples.
"By the Eight," Balgruuf groaned, closing his eyes. "I should have known. Wherever Ulfric Stormcloak is involved, absolute disaster follows close behind. So, the legends are true. The dragons have returned to Skyrim."
Aerion nodded his head solemnly. Behind him, Jenassa, Aeloria, and old Froki all nodded in unison, offering their silent, undeniable validation to the Jarl.
Balgruuf opened his eyes, turning his weary gaze to his left.
"Proventus," Balgruuf addressed his Steward, his tone laced with dark irony. "What do you think now? Just a few days ago, you were lecturing me about the cost of repairing the outer gates. Should we continue to blindly trust the strength of our ancient stone walls against a beast that can melt a mountain fortress?"
Proventus Avenicci shifted incredibly uncomfortably from foot to foot. The balding Imperial wrung his hands, his bureaucratic mind desperately trying to process an impossible threat.
"My lord, I... I merely meant that Whiterun's defenses are formidable against conventional armies," Proventus stammered, his voice reedy and nervous. "If this... this creature truly exists, it is certainly a concern. But we must not act rashly. Surely, a single beast cannot threaten the entire hold. We should gather more information before we—"
"Gather information?!" Irileth interrupted, stepping forward with furious disbelief. The Dark Elf Housecarl glared at the Steward. "A military fortress has been reduced to ashes in a single morning, and you want to sit and read ledgers?! My lord, we must act immediately!"
Irileth turned to Balgruuf, her tactical mind racing. "If the dragon is still lurking in the southern mountains near the ruins of Helgen, it will eventually seek new hunting grounds. Riverwood is situated directly at the base of that pass. It is an unfortified lumber town with less than adequate wood and stone walls with a handful of local guards. It is completely defenseless. We must send a detachment of soldiers to Riverwood at once to secure the town and watch the skies!"
Proventus gasped, his political paranoia instantly overriding his common sense.
"Are you mad, Irileth?!" Proventus shrieked, waving his hands frantically. "Send Whiterun troops down into the southern valley, right to the edge of Falkreath's borders?! Jarl Siddgeir is a paranoid, Imperial leaning fool! If he sees our banners marching toward his territory, especially after Ulfric Stormcloak just miraculously escaped an Imperial ambush right under our noses, he will immediately assume we have broken our neutrality!"
Proventus turned to Balgruuf pleadingly. "My Jarl, Siddgeir will see it as a direct provocation! He will assume we are marching to aid Ulfric! It could trigger open war between the holds!"
"A dragon does not care about your political borders, you bureaucratic fool!" Irileth snarled, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly her knuckles popped. "If Riverwood burns because we were too afraid to upset a petty Jarl in Falkreath, the blood of those people will be on our hands!"
"It is an act of war—!"
BAM!
The sound echoed like a thunderclap through the Great Hall.
Jarl Balgruuf had violently slammed his massive, heavy fist down onto the thick wooden armrest of his throne. The sheer force of the impact splintered the wood slightly.
"ENOUGH!" Balgruuf roared.
The booming voice of the Nord Jarl instantly silenced the bickering advisors. Proventus flinched backward, while Irileth instantly snapped to attention.
Balgruuf stood up, his eyes blazing with the fierce, protective fury of a true Nordic king. He was no longer the exhausted politician; he was the ruler of the central hold, and his people were threatened.
"I will not stand idly by and debate politics while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" Balgruuf declared, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
He turned to his Housecarl, pointing a commanding finger. "Irileth! You will dispatch a detachment of our finest guards to Riverwood immediately. Have them secure the perimeter of the town, fortify the bridge, and keep a constant watch on the southern skies. If Siddgeir has a problem with my men protecting my own borders, he can write me a very angry letter."
"Yes, my Jarl. At once," Irileth nodded sharply, a look of profound satisfaction crossing her face as she turned to leave the dais and mobilize the troops.
Balgruuf then turned his fierce gaze upon the trembling Steward.
"Proventus," Balgruuf commanded. "You will go to your quarters and draft an official missive of the highest priority. You will send our fastest couriers to Solitude immediately. Inform Jarl Elisif and the Imperials there to exactly what has transpired here today."
Balgruuf's jaw tightened. "If General Tullius perished in the fires of Helgen, the Imperial command structure is shattered. I will not have the Empire blaming the death of their Supreme Commander on a Stormcloak conspiracy or a failure of Whiterun's neutrality. They need to know they are fighting a dragon now. We must coordinate our intelligence."
"I... yes, my Jarl. I shall draft the letter immediately," Proventus bowed hurriedly, scuttling away toward the wing containing his offices.
With his immediate, vital orders dispatched, the fierce fury in Balgruuf's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deep, weary gratitude. He slowly sat back down upon his throne.
He turned his attention back to the High Elf standing calmly at the base of the steps.
"Aerion," Jarl Balgruuf spoke, his voice softening with genuine, profound appreciation. "You have done this hold an incredible service today. If you had not ridden through the night to bring us this grave news, Riverwood could have very easily become the next Helgen. They would have been entirely blind to the threat. I thank you, and I thank your companions, for your bravery."
Aerion offered another flawless, deeply respectful bow. He knew exactly how to play the perfect, patriotic citizen to solidify his political standing.
"You have absolutely no need to thank me, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion replied, his melodic voice projecting humble sincerity. "It is merely a fraction of my duty as a loyal citizen and property owner within the Whiterun Hold. Protecting our lands is a shared burden."
Balgruuf nodded slowly, deeply satisfied with the High Elf's answer. He appreciated a man who understood civic duty without demanding an immediate sack of gold in return.
The Jarl then raised his head, casting a dark, highly threatening glare over the assembled nobles sitting at the long feasting tables.
"And as for the rest of you," Balgruuf's voice boomed over the crowd, laced with dangerous authority. "You have heard the news. A dragon has returned. But I will not have mass panic in my streets. I will not have merchants fleeing the city and hoarding food because of rumors. You will all keep your mouths firmly shut until I officially address the city. If I catch wind that any of you are spreading panic in the markets, I will have you thrown in the dungeon for disturbing the peace. Am I understood?!"
A rapid, nervous chorus of "Yes, my Jarl," and "Of course, my lord," echoed from the tables as the nobles hurriedly nodded their heads, none wishing to test the Jarl's wrath.
Satisfied that the court was contained, Balgruuf turned back to Aerion. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice so the request was a private matter between trusted men.
"Aerion," Balgruuf asked, his tone shifting from a commander to a man seeking genuine assistance. "You have already done much, but I find myself in need of your unique expertise. As a master of the arcane, and a man who has actually survived an encounter with this beast... can I ask for your continued help in this matter? Whiterun needs answers."
Aerion didn't hesitate. He knew exactly where this dialogue tree led. It was the absolute, vital key to accessing the Jarl's inner circle and officially binding himself to the Dragonborn's impending questline.
"You need only ask, my Jarl," Aerion nodded his head firmly. "I would be honored to assist the hold in any capacity necessary."
Balgruuf let out a sigh of relief. "Good. You knew that my court wizard, Farengar, has been obsessively researching the ancient dragon cults and their lore for months. He has been searching for answers regarding their possible return. Perhaps, if you speak with him, the two of you can find a way to handle this madness before the beast turns its eyes upon our walls."
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 430/430 Stamina: 430/430 Magicka: 600/600
Level: 108
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+2)/Lightning(+1)/Frost) (Level 74/41/98), Restoration (Healing/Purify(+1)) (Level 91/56), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/10), Persuasion(+1) (Level 53), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 48), One Handed (Level 93), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim (Fade), & 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, Dragonstone, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, The Mirror, Glass Sword, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Garnet, Sapphire, Ruby, & Dawnbreaker
2x Potion Of Ultimate Magicka, Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Elven Sword
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
4x Potions of Minor Magicka, Spider Eggs, & Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
8x Iron Arrows, Ancient Nord Arrows, & Black Soul Gems (Filled)
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 74.92 KG / 515 KG
Septims: 77,465