If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"What do you plan to do now, Eisa?" Aerion asked, his voice calm and steady, leaving the choice entirely in her hands. "The only group you called yours has turned against you. The roads are freezing, and the Civil war is escalating. What is your next move?" Behind him, on the stairs, the three apprentices watched the exchange, slowly beginning to realize that following Expert Aerion into the field was vastly more complicated, and far more human, than simply casting spells at Draugr.
Aerion's question hung in the freezing air, sharp and unyielding over the howling of the coastal wind.
'What is your next move?'
Eisa Blackthorn fell entirely silent. She stared at the snow covered ground, the adrenaline bleeding out of her veins, leaving behind a profound, bone deep exhaustion. Aerion's words had cornered her, forcing her to confront a bleak, ugly truth she had been desperately avoiding.
If she simply walked away from Frostmere Crypt right now, she had no actual plan. She would wander south, freezing and hungry, until she eventually fell in with another desperate crew.
Her mind drifted back to the dark, damp caves of White River Watch. She had joined that crew with Ra'jirr, hoping to carve out a decent share of the Whiterun trade routes. But the leadership had been brutal and incompetent. She and the Khajiit had orchestrated a mutiny against the bandit chief. The rebellion had been a catastrophic failure, a bloodbath in the dark, and they were among the only ones to make it out alive.
With nowhere else to go, they had dragged themselves north to the Pale, eventually joining Kyr's gang in Frostmere Crypt.
And now, they had turned on her too.
Eisa realized with a sickening clarity that if she left now without changing anything, she was doomed to repeat the exact same cycle. She would join another gang, betray someone or be betrayed, move on, and keep scraping by without ever building a life that was actually hers.
The realization didn't frighten her, it just left her incredibly, utterly tired. Would her life truly amount to nothing more than bleeding in the snow for different bandit chiefs until one of them finally killed her?
She looked up, her blue eyes narrowing at the towering, aristocratic High Elf standing before her.
"Why do you even care?" Eisa asked, her voice thick with suspicion and fatigue. "We don't know each other. We aren't kin. I don't owe you a single septim, and you don't owe me a thing. Why does it matter to you if I have somewhere to go?"
Aerion looked at her, deciding to answer with absolute honesty.
"Because I am interested in you, Eisa," Aerion replied smoothly.
Eisa's eyes flared. Her hand instantly shot back to the hilt of her steel war axe, her posture dropping into an aggressive, defensive crouch.
Aerion immediately realized the implication of his phrasing.
"Calm down, peace. You misunderstand me," Aerion clarified quickly, raising a placating hand. "I am not speaking of romantic or physical interest. I am interested in your abilities as a warrior."
Eisa paused, her grip on the axe loosening slightly, but she didn't stand down. "My abilities?"
"I just watched you fight four heavily armed men while you were already wounded and outnumbered," Aerion explained, his tone analytical and entirely respectful. "You held your ground far longer than most seasoned mercenaries would have. And when my apprentices created an opening, you didn't hesitate or panic, you immediately stepped in and killed one yourself. That demonstrates raw physical strength, honed combat instincts, and a sheer determination to survive."
Eisa slowly stood up straight, the defensive edge in her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Are you saying you want to hire me?"
"I am," Aerion confirmed.
He took a step closer, projecting stability and wealth. "I am offering you proper pay. A roof over your head. Regular, hot food, and a warm bed that you do not have to sleep in with one eye open. You would not be expected to live like a bandit, scraping for coppers in the mud. You would have an actual place among people who are building something, rather than simply surviving from one raid to the next."
Eisa stared at him, chewing the inside of her cheek. It was the best offer she had heard in a decade. But she wasn't a fool.
"And how exactly am I supposed to trust you?" Eisa asked, crossing her arms. "For all I know, you're just looking for sword fodder to throw at the traps inside."
"You do not have to trust a single word I say," Aerion answered straightforwardly. "Judge me entirely by what I do. Take the coin. Fight at our side. And if you eventually decide that you do not like the arrangement, or you simply wish to leave... I will not stop you. There will be no chains, no threats, and no punishment for choosing another path. You have my word."
The absolute lack of coercion resonated deeply with Eisa. She had spent her entire life being threatened into compliance by bandit chiefs. The offer of freedom, backed by heavy coin, was intoxicating.
She weighed her options. Bleed out in the snow, or take a chance on the heavily armored Elf.
"Fine," Eisa agreed, her jaw setting firmly. "I'll give you a chance. But if I'm starting over, I'm not doing it for pocket change. Five hundred septims a week. Half upfront. And a fair share of whatever we pull out of that crypt."
It was a steep price for a mercenary, but Aerion didn't even blink.
"Done," Aerion accepted without argument.
The agreement felt entirely practical. Eisa hadn't suddenly become blindly loyal, and Aerion hadn't adopted a charity case. She had simply chosen a chance at something different, and he had secured a valuable, highly capable local asset.
"We will rest here for a moment before breaching the crypt," Aerion announced to the group, turning his attention to his new hire. "You have just survived a grueling fight, Eisa. Take a few minutes to recover your strength."
The group moved out of the harsh wind, settling around a small, sheltered campfire near the heavy stone entrance of the ruin. As Jenassa passed Eisa a waterskin and Lydia kept a watchful eye on the doors, Aerion sat on a frost covered rock and mentally opened his System.
He needed to review the notifications generated by the ambush.
As the translucent golden text scrolled across his vision, Aerion felt a deep, genuine surge of satisfaction. The brief, violent encounter had massively accelerated several of his core combat skills.
[Skill: Persuasion (+2) Leveled Up! Level 19 ➔ Level 45]
[Skill: Sneak (+1) Leveled Up! Level 33 ➔ Level 50]
[Skill: Archery Leveled Up! Level 72 ➔ Level 91]
[Skill: Light Armor (+2) Leveled Up! Level 0 ➔ Level 10]
The true victories, however, were in his primary melee disciplines.
[Skill: One Handed (+1) Leveled Up! Level 72 ➔ Level MAX]
[Maximum Mastery Reached. Initiate Legendary Reset?]
[Skill: Two-Handed Leveled Up! Level 81 ➔ Level MAX]
[Maximum Mastery Reached. Initiate Legendary Reset?]
He had reached the top of his skill proficiency with both single and double handed weaponry. But Aerion had no intention of allowing his growth to stagnate. He made a highly calculated, long term investment.
With a mental command, he executed a Legendary Reset on both skills.
[LEGENDARY RESET EXECUTED: One-Handed (+1) ➔ (+2)
Skill Level reset to 0.]
[LEGENDARY RESET EXECUTED: Two-Handed ➔ (+1)
Skill Level reset to 0.]
The reset meant he would temporarily rely slightly more on his raw, augmented physical strength than his technical finesse, but it allowed him to continue harvesting massive amounts of experience from future combat, growing far beyond ordinary, mortal limits.
The System then flashed with an entirely new notification.
[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: Heavy Armor - Level 0]
[Description: Because strapping eighty pounds of solid steel and bear fur to your chest usually limits mobility, but you seem to think it's a perfectly acceptable dancing outfit. This skill increases your comfort, balance, and defensive maneuvering while heavily encumbered, effectively turning a massive physical burden into a seamless extension of your fighting style.]
[Skill: Heavy Armor Leveled Up! Level 0 ➔ Level 31]
Aerion chuckled softly behind the bronze mask. The timing was highly amusing. He had only recently abandoned his robes for the Nordic Carved Armor, and the System had finally decided he had taken enough physical impacts in the steel to officially warrant the proficiency.
Finally, he processed his overall character growth.
[LEVEL UP DETECTED! You have leveled up 18 times!]
[You have gained 18 Attribute Points!]
He distributed the points with pragmatic precision. He pushed six points into Health, feeling the immediate, grounding surge of vitality reinforcing his bones and muscle. He dumped the remaining seven points into Stamina. He felt his lung capacity expand and the spatial dimensions of his inventory stretch wider.
[Attribute Points Allocated: Magicka x6 (+60 Points)]
[Attribute Points Allocated: Stamina x7 (+70 Points)]
[Inventory Weight Limit Increased by 30 KG.]
With his matrix optimized and his strength refreshed, Aerion stood up from the rock.
"We have rested enough," Aerion announced, his voice cutting through the crackle of the campfire.
He turned to the young Nord woman, who was currently adjusting the leather straps of her hide shield.
"Eisa," Aerion called out. "I want you to guide us. You are our insider. You know the layout of the crypt, you know the patrols, and you know the blind spots. Take the point."
Eisa let out a small, dry snort, testing the edge of her axe with her thumb.
"Sure thing, boss," Eisa replied, the sarcasm heavy but entirely devoid of real malice. She walked toward the heavy iron doors of the crypt. "Keep your weapons tight. There's a staging room just beyond the entrance. Kyr usually keeps three or four guards posted inside the doors to watch for Stormcloak patrols or daring adventurers."
Aerion nodded. He turned back to the three shivering apprentices.
"Listen closely," Aerion ordered, shifting seamlessly into his role as their combat instructor. "When the doors open, I want the three of you to cast the strongest area of effect Destruction spells you can safely control into the room. Your goal is not simply to kill the targets quickly, your goal is area control. I want you to place your spells so that they hit multiple enemies without catching the doorway, or us, in the blast radius. Understood?"
J'zargo, Onmund, and Brelyna visibly tensed. Their hands trembled slightly, not just from the cold, but from the crushing weight of reality. This wasn't casting at rocks on a beach. This was their first true combat exercise inside an occupied, hostile ruin.
Still, they nodded, raising their hands and taking deep, steadying breaths to summon their magicka.
Aerion stepped up to the heavy iron doors, gripping the frozen handles. With a massive heave of his augmented strength, he pulled the doors wide open.
The heavy, metallic screech echoed loudly into the stone chamber beyond.
Almost immediately, several gruff, irritated voices shouted from the darkness.
"Who's there?!" a bandit yelled.
"Is that you, Eisa? Did the boss finally cut your throat?" another laughed cruelly.
No answer came from the snowy threshold.
"Now," Aerion commanded.
The apprentices unleashed hell.
A massive, coordinated barrage of elemental magic tore through the doorway. Onmund hurled a concentrated Fireball that arced perfectly over the heads of the vanguard, detonating violently against the back wall of the staging room. Brelyna blanketed the center of the room in a sweeping blizzard of Ice Storm, while J'zargo unleashed a crackling, web like net of Chain Lightning that instantly found the metal armor of the guards.
The explosions slammed into the bandits, catching them entirely by surprise. The cruel laughter turned instantly into screams of sheer agony as five men were thrown violently backward, burning, freezing, and convulsing against the ancient stonework.
Two of the bandits, heavily armored in iron and miraculously avoiding the brunt of the blast, managed to draw their weapons and charge toward the door through the smoke.
Aerion did not wait for them. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his Ebony Greatsword clearing its scabbard with a metallic hiss. He brought the massive blade down in a brutal, diagonal cleave, cutting through the lead bandit's iron shield and collarbone in a single, devastating motion.
Lydia, Jenassa, and Eisa surged into the room directly behind him, turning the staging area into a chaotic, bloody melee. Eisa fought with a vicious, personal fury, her steel axe finding the gaps in her former comrades' armor.
The apprentices held their positions outside the threshold, perfectly maintaining their discipline. They didn't panic and they didn't rush in; they remained behind the front line, supporting the warriors by carefully directing tight, focused beams of fire and lightning into the isolated corners of the room.
Within thirty seconds, the immediate resistance was entirely broken.
The staging room was quiet, save for the crackle of residual flames on the stonework.
Aerion wiped the black glass of his greatsword, his golden eyes scanning the shadows. He located a heavy, rusted chain mechanism set into the wall near a lowered iron portcullis. He gripped the chain and pulled, the heavy gears grinding loudly as the gate rose, opening the path deeper into Frostmere Crypt.
"Move down," Aerion instructed.
The group descended a long, winding set of stone stairs. The air grew damp and heavy with the smell of ancient dust and unwashed bodies.
They entered a long, narrow balcony section. The path they walked was elevated, enclosed by heavy, prison like stone walls that overlooked a wider passage below.
From the lower level, the sound of boots scraping on stone and the low murmur of voices drifted up.
"I'm telling you, Kyr is losing his mind," a bandit complained from below, his voice echoing off the stone. "He's sitting down there staring at that pale sword like it's a piece of the Divines. And what about Ra'jirr? We're just going to let him run around the crypt?"
"Shut up and keep watch," a second voice grunted.
Suddenly, the muffled, heavy thump of the apprentices' explosions from the staging room vibrated through the floorboards.
"What in Oblivion was that?" the first bandit asked nervously. "Should we go upstairs?"
"It's nothing," the second bandit dismissed lazily. "Probably just Sudi fooling around with a flame spell again. If it was the guard, they would've blown the horn. Stop whining."
On the balcony, Aerion instantly raised a steel clad hand, signaling absolute silence. The group froze, their breathing shallow. They crept along the stone wall, slipping past the overlooking grates like shadows, entirely undetected by the lazy guards below.
They navigated the twisting corridors until they reached a smaller, adjoining chamber. Inside, three bandits were sitting around a wooden table, playing a game with bone dice, their weapons resting carelessly against the walls.
Aerion looked at his retainers and gave a sharp nod.
This time, the vanguard took the lead. Aerion, Lydia, Jenassa, and Eisa burst into the room simultaneously. The fight was brutally efficient. The bandits were divided, unprepared, and entirely unarmed.
Aerion gestured for the apprentices to hold their fire.
"Observe," Aerion told the young mages as Lydia bashed a bandit into the wall and Jenassa slipped a dagger into his ribs. "Do not waste your Magicka on enemies that are already dead. Learn to read the momentum of a skirmish."
With the room cleared, Aerion noticed a heavy, reinforced iron door set into the back wall.
He sheathed his greatsword and approached the door, pulling a set of iron lockpicks from his satchel. He knelt before the mechanism, inserting the tension wrench and the pick. He felt the tumblers, applying a delicate, precise pressure.
SNAP.
The brittle iron pick broke in half, the tip jamming uselessly inside the lock.
Aerion let out a low, deeply irritated sigh, muttering an ancient Elven curse under his breath. He pulled a second pick from his pouch, reset his grip, and tried again. This time, he caught the rhythm of the rusted tumblers perfectly. The lock clicked, and the heavy door swung open.
Inside was a cramped, musty storage room. It was filled with wooden racks of spare, low quality iron weapons, rusted tools, and a massive, heavy stone grinding wheel in the center of the floor.
Aerion scanned the room quickly. There was nothing particularly valuable, and certainly nothing worth the carried weight given the fortune he already possessed in his inventory.
"Leave it," Aerion ordered, turning away.
Eisa leaned into the room, a ghost of a smirk crossing her face as she looked at the grinding wheel.
"This is where old Sudi used to sharpen the iron," Eisa commented quietly, tracing a finger over a rusted dagger on the rack. "She always complained about the damp in here ruining her whetstones. Kyr used to lock the good steel in a chest behind the wheel, but it looks like they've already moved it deeper."
Her off hand commentary provided a solid, reassuring layer of authenticity to her presence. She genuinely knew the internal logistics of the group.
They left the storage room and followed the main, winding route deeper into the crypt.
The narrow passage eventually opened onto a wide, stone overlook. Aerion crouched behind a low, ruined wall, peering over the edge.
Below them lay a massive, cavernous lower chamber. It was the heart of the bandit camp. Tents were pitched against the ancient sarcophagi, and a large fire roared in the center of the room. Gathered around the flames and patrolling the perimeter were slightly fewer than ten heavily armed bandits.
Aerion studied the room, his tactical mind calculating the angles and the sightlines.
Rather than simply ordering a chaotic, all out charge down the stairs, he turned back to the three apprentices. It was time for the next phase of their examination.
"J'zargo, Onmund, Brelyna," Aerion whispered, pointing toward the edge of the overlook. "You three will remain up here. You have the high ground, which provides a flawless vantage point and a massive tactical advantage."
He looked them each in the eye.
"You are to use your Destruction spells from this safe position," Aerion ordered. "Your primary objective is battlefield control. You will concentrate your fire on clustered enemies to break their formations. But more importantly, you must perfectly calculate your trajectories to avoid hitting the four of us as we move below you."
He turned to the warriors. "Lydia, Jenassa, Eisa. We will descend the wooden stairs and engage the camp in direct melee. We will draw their aggro, keeping them clustered for the artillery."
Aerion looked back at the apprentices, ensuring the lesson was clear. "This is how you combine magical support with a frontline vanguard. You are our overwatch."
The apprentices hesitated. The sheer scale of the cavern below, and the chaotic, moving variables of a live melee, made the prospect of friendly fire terrifyingly real.
"Expert Aerion..." Brelyna swallowed hard. "If they move too fast, or if you step into the blast radius—"
"You asked for practical experience," Aerion interrupted smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This is what it looks like. Trust your training, and trust your aim. Take your positions."
The young mages exchanged nervous glances, but they obeyed. They stepped up to the edge of the stone overlook, raising their hands and taking deep, focused breaths, their palms beginning to glow with volatile energy.
Aerion drew the Ebony Greatsword from his back.
Lydia raised her dark shield, locking her jaw. Jenassa slipped her steel sword and dagger from their sheaths without a sound. Eisa gripped her steel axe, her eyes fixed on the men who had betrayed her. Aerion looked up at the three glowing apprentices. He gave a single, sharp nod. "Fire," Aerion commanded. As the apprentices unleashed a devastating, roaring volley of magic from the high ground, Aerion led the four warriors in a terrifying, thundering charge down the wooden stairs, plunging directly into the chaos below.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 770/770
Stamina: 810/810
Magicka: 980/980 [External Capacity & Regeneration: ∞]
Level: 200 ➔ 213
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Eye Of Magnus (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 45), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 50), One Handed(+2) (Level 0), Two Handed(+1) (Level 0), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 91), Enchanting(+1) (Level 23), Light Armor(+2) (Level 10), Block (Level 70), Pickpocket (Level 8), & Heavy Armor (Level 31) - NEW
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, 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, Staff of Fireball, Mage Boots Of Weight, Master Robes Of Destruction, & Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson
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: 93.41 KG / 705 KG
Septims: 77,962