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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The atmosphere was incredibly relaxed, the tension of Windhelm finally bleeding out of the apprentices. J'zargo, looking significantly more comfortable now that he wasn't surrounded by glaring Nords, leaned back in his chair and looked at Aerion. "So, Expert Aerion," the Khajiit asked, tearing into a piece of bread. "When are we going on another teaching trip? The training has been grueling, yes, but J'zargo's Chain Lightning is becoming much faster. We wish to continue."
Aerion pulled up a chair, offering a small, reassuring smile.
"Your eagerness does you credit, J'zargo," Aerion replied smoothly. "Once my business here in Riften is concluded, we will resume our practical lessons on the road. Do not worry, your training has not been forgotten. Rest and recover your stamina while you can."
J'zargo groaned dramatically, his tail swishing behind him. "J'zargo hates waiting. Waiting is for scholars in towers, not battlemages in the field!"
Aerion chuckled softly, leaving the group to finish their meal, and stepped out of the Bee and Barb into the cool, damp evening air of Riften.
He walked through the city deliberately, his golden eyes observing every detail. Riften felt intensely alive. It was a city of stark, uncomfortable contrasts. The bustling, prosperous merchant stalls in the central plaza sat directly above the rotting, neglected wooden walkways of the lower canals. Wealth and abject poverty existed side by side, separated only by a few feet of damp timber.
Eventually, Aerion found a secluded, shadowed corner beneath the bridge connecting the marketplace to the Temple of Mara.
He closed his eyes and activated his Animal Affinity.
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Riften was a city built on water, wood, and refuse, and the local wildlife thrived in the decay.
Mice emerged from the cracks in the cobblestones and the drains of the canals. Enormous black rats slipped out from beneath the locked doors of the Black-Briar Meadery warehouses. Crows landed heavily on the wooden beams above his head, and thousands of tiny insects shifted within the rotting walls.
Aerion them immediately spoke to them directly, utilizing ordinary words paired with the specific, instinctual sounds that resonated with their species.
"Listen," Aerion commanded softly, his voice blending with the ambient noise of the rushing water.
He tasked the massive network with investigating the entire city. He wanted raw data on the mood of the population, the condition of the food supplies, the flow of the canal trade, and the true economic health of the merchant class. He asked for observations on the behavior of the guards, the movement of the Stormcloak soldiers, the frequency of violent crime, the shadowy influence of the Thieves Guild, and the pervasive reach of Maven Black-Briar.
Then, he focused on a specific, elite cadre of tiny field mice.
"Mistveil Keep," Aerion instructed them. "You are small enough to slip through the drains, beneath the kitchen floorboards, and through the servant passages. Go where the Jarl feels safe. Listen. Do not interfere with anything. I want to know about Stormcloak manpower, political visitors, and communication with the other holds. Go."
The creatures acknowledged the directives with a chorus of squeaks, rapid clicking, and the rustle of feathers, before scattering instantly back into the shadows of the city.
With his intelligence network actively spinning its web, Aerion turned his attention to a vastly more personal objective.
He walked back up to the bustling marketplace. Standing near a jewelry stall, looking deeply frustrated, were the two figures he had spotted earlier on the bridge.
Mjoll the Lioness and Aerin.
They noticed the heavily armored warrior approaching and immediately became cautious. Mjoll subtly shifted her weight, resting her hand near the haft of the massive steel Warhammer on her back.
Aerion stopped at a highly respectful distance, raising his gauntleted hands to show they were empty.
"Peace," Aerion requested smoothly. "I have no intention of causing trouble. I merely wish to ask a few questions about your city."
Mjoll remained wary, her blue eyes narrowing. "Questions? From a stranger dressed for war? Fine. But not here."
She led him away from the crowded stalls, moving to a quieter corner near the canal stairs where they could speak without attracting too much attention.
Once they were relatively isolated, Aerion reached up and removed the bronze mask of Krosis.
Mjoll and Aerin both physically recoiled in surprise, their eyes widening at the sight of his flawless Altmer features.
"You're... a High Elf," Aerin blurted out, genuinely stunned.
"I am," Aerion nodded politely.
"That is... unusual," Mjoll commented, recovering her composure quickly, though she still looked confused. "A High Elf wearing heavy Nordic steel, carrying an Ebony Greatsword, and asking questions in Riften. You don't exactly fit the mold of a wandering scholar."
"The roads of Skyrim require heavy steel, regardless of where one is born," Aerion replied easily. "I am Aerion. A traveler, and recently named Thane of Whiterun."
"I am Mjoll," the warrior introduced herself firmly. "Known by some as the Lioness. This is Aerin."
"A pleasure," Aerion offered a slight bow. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I overheard a fragment of your conversation when I passed you on the bridge earlier today. I became curious because you sounded deeply, genuinely concerned about the state of this city."
The mention of Riften's state provided Mjoll with the exact opening she needed to speak honestly. Her frustration, completely genuine and unexaggerated, spilled over.
"Concerned doesn't begin to cover it, Aerion," Mjoll sighed heavily, crossing her heavily armored arms. "Riften is deeply entrenching with corruption. The criminal underworld here isn't just a collection of random cutpurses and petty thieves in the alleys. It is highly organized. It is tied together through the Thieves Guild, deeply influential merchants, guards who openly accept bribes, and powerful families."
"Maven Black-Briar," Aerion supplied quietly.
Mjoll's eyes flashed. "Exactly. Maven Black-Briar. Nearly every major problem in this city leads back to someone with influence, and sooner or later, almost every crooked path leads directly to the Black-Briar family's doorstep."
She shook her head, looking out over the stagnant water of the canal.
"I have spent years traveling across Tamriel, Aerion. I have seen corruption before. I've seen cutthroat politics in High Rock and brutal warlords in Hammerfell. But what truly sickens me about Riften is how deeply accepted the rot has become."
Mjoll's voice cracked slightly with righteous anger. "People here have grown used to it. Some profit from the misery. Some are terrified of it. And the rest simply ignore it because they believe absolutely nothing can be changed. They've given up."
Aerin nodded in agreement, adjusting his fine tunic. "It's true. You see it every day. Guards will completely overlook obvious extortion right in the market square. And if you mention certain names... people just change the subject or walk away. The fear is baked into the stones."
Aerion listened intently, nodding his head. He agreed with her assessment entirely, but he was incredibly careful not to sound omniscient. He didn't want to come across as a know it all who had already solved the city's puzzle.
"Your frustration is entirely justified, Mjoll," Aerion validated her feelings. "How do you intend to change it?"
"I want to expose them," Mjoll stated fiercely. "I want to root out the criminals, break the Guild's hold on the merchants, and restore some actual sense of order and justice to this city. But every time I try to strike a blow, I hit a wall of bought guards or political red tape."
Aerion began to systematically build a better, deeper impression in Mjoll's eyes. He didn't immediately offer her a job or dump a sack of gold in her lap, he established profound, intellectual common ground.
"I have traveled extensively throughout Skyrim over the past few months," Aerion began, his voice calm and analytical. "And I have seen firsthand how systemic corruption and political instability feed upon one another. You are fighting a noble fight, Mjoll, but you must look at the larger board."
He gestured vaguely toward the Jarl's keep. "The civil war itself is actively making this local corruption worse. When governments are distracted by a massive, province wide war, criminal organizations naturally gain vastly more freedom to operate. When the city guards are underfunded, or their ranks are depleted to send soldiers to the front lines, bribery becomes exponentially easier. When political leaders are focused entirely on military survival, the problems festering inside their own walls receive far less attention."
Mjoll frowned slightly, tracking his logic.
"I am not telling you to abandon your desire to clean up Riften," Aerion clarified gently, redirecting her tactical thinking. "But I am suggesting that you may be trying to fight the symptoms of the disease before the larger fever has broken. As long as Skyrim remains utterly consumed by Ulfric's civil war, there will always be endless opportunities for criminals and corrupt officials to exploit the chaos. If the war ends, and stability returns... the conditions that allow this specific brand of organized corruption to thrive may finally change."
Mjoll remained silent for a long moment. She was far too fiercely committed to her cause for a single, logical argument to magically change her mind instantly. But she wasn't stubborn to the point of blindness.
"I... had not considered it from that specific angle," Mjoll admitted slowly, tapping her chin. "The war does provide them with a very convenient shadow to hide in."
Aerion's Persuasion skill hummed subtly beneath the conversation, strengthening the rapport and making his words feel inherently trustworthy and profoundly reasonable, without forcing her compliance.
Aerin, who had initially been highly wary of the heavily armed Altmer, visibly relaxed. He saw that Aerion was not just another rich, arrogant traveler or a brainless mercenary passing through. He was a thinker.
"It is something to consider," Aerion offered with a polite smile.
Throughout the brief, natural conversation that followed, Aerion learned more about Mjoll's past adventures and her deeply ingrained reasons for refusing to tolerate the rot around her.
He privately finalized his assessment of the Lioness.
She was highly experienced. She knew exactly how to fight. She possessed the raw courage to openly oppose the most powerful, dangerous people in the city. But most importantly, in a world drowning in cynicism and coin, she still genuinely cared about doing what she believed was objectively right.
She was an incredibly rare, undeniably valuable asset.
But Aerion did not reveal his hand.
"I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, Mjoll, Aerin," Aerion thanked them genuinely, taking a step back.
Before turning to leave, he offered one final, parting piece of advice.
"If you genuinely want to change Riften, Mjoll," Aerion said softly, his golden eyes filled with quiet respect, "ensure that you do not allow the city's corruption to consume your spirit in the process. A broken sword cannot cut."
Mjoll's expression softened, clearly appreciating the sincere advice. "I will remember that, Aerion. Safe travels."
Aerion walked away, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. The interaction had ended on a perfectly positive note. He had made a tremendously strong first impression, establishing himself as a wise, capable ally without seeming desperate or manipulative. He had potentially secured a future warrior yet again for his power.
As he walked back across the bridge toward the Bee and Barb, Aerion stopped, leaning against the wooden railing, looking out across the bustling, lantern lit city of Riften.
It was entirely unlike the northern holds he had already dissected.
Winterhold was actively collapsing. Dawnstar was prosperous, but terrified and burdened by the front lines. Windhelm was powerful, but deeply, dangerously divided by racial tension.
Riften was something else entirely. It was wealthy enough to function perfectly. It was politically stable enough to appear healthy to the untrained eye. And it was so thoroughly corrupt that almost every major institution, from the docks to the Keep, seemed explicitly connected to someone else's shadow interests.
Aerion knew he had only just scratched the surface of the rot.
But somewhere, deep inside the heavy stone walls of Mistveil Keep, his smallest, most invisible spies were already listening. And whatever the mice discovered in the dark would finally reveal exactly how deep Maven Black-Briar's suffocating influence truly ran.
Aerion stood on the sturdy wooden balcony wrapping around the upper level of the Bee and Barb, watching the morning mist burn off the canals of Riften. The city below was a hive of chaotic, buzzing activity, the merchants already shouting their wares over the sound of rushing water.
He remain in Riften for the next two days. While he already possessed a fundamental understanding of the city's unique corruption from his previous life, he needed to observe how that corruption actively functioned within the localized, brutal context of the civil war. He needed hard intelligence, not just lore.
During those two days, Aerion maintained a careful, highly visible presence. He didn't skulk in the shadows or pick locks. He walked the markets openly, bought fresh salmon from the Argonian dockworkers, and haggled for lockpicks with the local smiths. He allowed himself to be seen, projecting the image of a wealthy, relaxed traveling scholar.
He also made a deliberate point to continue crossing paths with Mjoll the Lioness and Aerin.
Their interactions began casually. A respectful nod near the temple, a brief exchange about the weather outside the pawnshop, or a shared, knowing look when a guard openly accepted a bribe from a merchant.
Gradually, Mjoll became much more comfortable around the imposing High Elf. Unlike the cynical, dismissive merchants of the city, Aerion spoke to her seriously. He didn't patronize her idealism, nor did he mock her lack of progress. He treated her ambition with cold, intellectual respect.
Aerin, however, remained incredibly suspicious, particularly because Aerion repeatedly, gently hammered away at a single, incredibly potent argument.
"You are trying to empty the lake with a bucket, Mjoll," Aerion had remarked during a brief conversation near the canal. "Trying to uproot the Thieves Guild, expose corrupt guards, and confront powerful families while Skyrim is actively tearing itself apart in a civil war... it is fighting the symptoms rather than the disease."
"The Guild is the disease, Aerion," Mjoll had pushed back stubbornly, her hand resting on her battleaxe. "This is my home for now. I won't abandon it while criminals and cutthroats control the streets."
"I am not telling you to abandon your home permanently," Aerion had countered smoothly. "There is a vast tactical difference between abandoning a city, and temporarily stepping away from it to address the larger, geopolitical conditions that are actively allowing its problems to survive. As long as Skyrim remains politically unstable and distracted by war, people with money and influence will continue finding ways to exploit that instability. You cannot fix the roof while the foundation is collapsing."
It became a recurring debate between them.
Eventually, Aerin noticed the underlying pattern.
After Aerion walked away from one of these brief exchanges, disappearing into the market crowd, Aerin grabbed Mjoll's armored arm, his face tight with concern.
"Mjoll, please," Aerin warned quietly. "Do not let yourself become too comfortable with him. He seems incredibly, unusually interested in convincing you to leave Riften. We don't know who he truly works for, and I don't understand what he wants from you."
Mjoll let out a soft sigh, looking at the retreating figure of the High Elf. She gently placed her hand over Aerin's, reprimanding him softly.
"He isn't trying to trick me, Aerin," Mjoll said, her voice thoughtful. "His argument... it actually makes sense. I hate to admit it, but he's right about the war. The Jarl is too distracted to care about the Guild."
She turned back to her friend, her blue eyes determined.
"More importantly, Aerin, he is the first person we have met in a very long time who seems to share the exact same core belief that we do," Mjoll explained. "He believes that Riften shouldn't simply be tolerated as it is. He believes that Skyrim needs to actively break the cycle of corruption and instability, rather than just patching over it with temporary arrests. He carries the same spirit we've been trying to protect, even if his methods involve the larger world."
Aerin frowned, remaining deeply uncertain about the heavily armored Altmer, but he respected Mjoll's judgment more than anyone else's. If she saw a kindred spirit in the Elf, Aerin would not stand in her way.
Meanwhile, while Aerion engaged in public diplomacy, his invisible network of mice, birds, and insects was working tirelessly in the shadows.
The reports flooding into his mind painted a breathtakingly detailed, highly complex picture of Riften's economic and political reality.
At first glance, the city was incredibly prosperous. Trade was booming. The markets were packed. Black-Briar mead flowed out of the city in massive, lucrative shipments, moving across the province and beyond. The wealth generated by the meadery indirectly supported the entire ecosystem of the city, the farmers who grew the honey, the craftsmen who built the barrels, the inns that sold the drink, and the merchants who transported it.
But Aerion's animal network revealed the stark, ugly truth and that is rhe prosperity absolutely did not reach everyone equally.
The Black-Briar family had become so fundamentally important to the city's economy that Maven's influence transcended the normal boundaries of nobility. She possessed investments, debt leverage, business relationships, and political connections that tangled every major player in the city.
Aerion realized with a jolt that the limited portrayal of Maven in his past life had only shown a fraction of her true, suffocating influence. If one family controlled ninety percent of a city's economic activity, that family did not need to sit on the Jarl's throne to dictate policy. The Jarl simply became a rubber stamp.
This specific economic stranglehold perfectly explained why Jarl Laila Law-Giver had become increasingly, frustratingly cautious about openly supporting Ulfric.
Laila was a genuine Stormcloak sympathizer. She had pledged her rhetorical support to the rebellion. But Maven Black-Briar was closely financially tied to Imperial interests in Cyrodiil.
As soon as Ulfric began showing signs that the Stormcloaks might genuinely challenge the Imperial Legion, Maven had begun applying massive, crushing political and economic pressure on Laila.
The mice in Mistveil Keep reported the reality of that pressure. It wasn't expressed in obvious, dramatic threats. It came through subtle business delays. It came through sudden trade embargoes, delayed tax payments, hushed promises to rival families, and quiet warnings delivered by heavily armed mercenaries.
The result was a geopolitical stalemate within the hold. Laila continued to publicly support the Stormcloaks to save face, but she actively reduced the actual manpower, coin, and supplies she committed to the war effort to appease Maven.
It was a vital realization for Aerion. Laila Law-Giver was not necessarily a weak ruler, she was constrained by her own economy.
The other major, systemic problem strangling the city was the Thieves Guild.
Riften's ordinary citizens did not feel safe. The mice reported the hushed, terrified conversations in the kitchens and the cellars. Shopkeepers constantly worried about sudden theft. Small, independent merchants lived in daily fear of retaliation. Everyone knew the Guild operated with impunity, even if no one dared speak their name aloud.
This had a direct, devastating effect on legitimate trade. Businesses not officially connected to the Black-Briar network were struggling vastly more than the bustling market suggested. Maven's allies were perfectly protected, while independent merchants were slowly bled dry by theft, intimidation, and bribery.
Aerion compared the situation to Dawnstar and Winterhold.
Riften possessed vastly more liquid wealth than either northern city. But wealth did not automatically equate to prosperity for the average citizen. The city's economic engine was concentrated entirely in the hands of a corrupt few.
To complicate matters further, Laila's official support for Ulfric meant that able bodied men and women were still being aggressively recruited from the hold, while a significant portion of the city's taxes were being siphoned north to fund the rebellion.
Aerion recognized the glaring, bleeding contradiction. Riften possessed tremendous, almost limitless resources. Yet, the hold was being simultaneously drained from the outside by the war, and absorbed from the inside by private, criminal economic interests.
The final animal reports revealed the exact military deployment around the Rift.
A major Stormcloak force of approximately 12,000 soldiers was heavily garrisoned along the mountainous Falkreath frontier. This force operated in tandem with roughly 15,000 additional troops from the broader Stormcloak military presence, creating a massive, concentrated wedge intended to hold Falkreath in a tense strategic deadlock, preventing Imperial reinforcements from moving north from Cyrodiil.
Furthermore, Riften maintained a second military camp along the Whiterun border, containing approximately 8,000 soldiers ready to push into the plains.
The critical detail the mice uncovered was logistical: the massive supply burden for both of these southern camps fell almost entirely on Riften.
Because Ulfric's main supply network was concentrated heavily in the north near Windhelm and Dawnstar, Riften was forced to provide a staggering portion of the food, forged equipment, transport wagons, and coin required to maintain these 35,000 troops.
Aerion instantly recognized the deployment as a form of brutal political pressure from Windhelm.
The message from Ulfric to Laila was crystal clear, Riften must choose how deeply it is willing to bleed for the rebellion. She could not continue delaying and appeasing Maven forever. Ulfric's logistical strategy was actively forcing the hold to commit its resources, draining them until they had no choice but to fight.
Aerion sat back, processing a surprising, counter-intuitive realization.
Riften might actually be the absolute hardest hold for the Imperial Legion to penetrate militarily.
Initially, he had assumed the city's deep seated corruption would make it strategically weak, ripe for collapse. But the situation was vastly more complicated. The corruption was almost entirely internal economic problem. Militarily, the hold was a fortress. It was heavily protected by treacherous mountain terrain, massive local manpower, vast supply reserves, and close proximity to Windhelm's reinforcements. Furthermore, Riften possessed a wealthy, self sustaining economic base fully capable of supporting prolonged resistance if cut off from the rest of the province.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 860/860
Stamina: 900/900
Magicka: 980/980 [External Capacity & Regeneration: ∞]
Level: 231
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(+5)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+2)) (Level 0/91/70), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 50/98), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/90), Persuasion(+2) (Level 83), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 64), One Handed(+2) (Level 0), Two Handed(+1) (Level 29), Lockpicking (Level 55), Archery(+1) (Level 0), Enchanting(+1) (Level 23), Light Armor(+2) (Level 10), Block (Level 70), Pickpocket (Level 8), & Heavy Armor (Level 59)
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), & IIZ (Ice)
[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 / 750 KG
Septims: 77,867