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Aerion stood over the corpse of the ancient warlord, wiping the dark fluid from his greatsword. He remained outwardly perfectly composed, his face hidden behind the bronze mask. But internally, Aerion realized exactly what he had just done. He had just revealed his greatest secret. The three College apprentices, Eisa, and his retainers had just witnessed a High Elf, a mer who had never once publicly established himself as Dragonborn, shout with the power of the Voice. Aerion turned slowly around to face his group. He needed to decide exactly what he was going to tell them.
The chamber remained perfectly quiet for several long moments, the silence heavy and absolute after the deafening, thunderous roar of the battle. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic dripping of water falling from the jagged stalactites into the shallow, flooded basin of the crypt.
The air was still thick with the acrid stench of ozone, burnt ash, and ancient dust.
Near the edges of the room, the apprentices were breathing hard, their chests heaving as the residual adrenaline slowly began to recede from their veins. J'zargo was leaning against a stone pillar, his claws still sparking faintly with dissipating shock spells. Onmund had a hand pressed to his knee, his breath pluming in the cold, damp air, while Brelyna stood beside him, her shoulders slumped in sheer exhaustion.
A few paces away, Lydia, Jenassa, and Eisa were recovering from the grueling physical toll of the fight. Lydia slowly lowered her shield, the heavy metal scraping against her greaves, her blue eyes scanning the dark corners of the room for any remaining threats. Eisa leaned heavily on her sword, looking both terrified and utterly vindicated by her survival. Jenassa simply sheathed her blades with a fluid, silent motion, her red eyes fixed entirely on Aerion.
Everyone was still trying to process what they had just witnessed.
Aerion, however, did not immediately turn around. He did not offer an explanation, nor did he try to break the heavy silence that had settled over the group.
Instead, he calmly walked through the ankle deep water toward the platform where Sigdis Gauldurson had finally fallen. The ancient draugr lord had dissolved into a pile of pale, glowing ash, leaving behind only the remnants of his ancient power. Aerion knelt beside the remains, his gloved hands sifting through the dust with practiced efficiency.
He found the weapon first. The Gauldur Black Bow. The wood was dark as obsidian, cold to the touch, and practically hummed with an insidious, draining enchantment. He tested the draw string, satisfied with its pristine condition, and held it loosely in his left hand.
Then, he saw the faint, golden gleam half buried in the ash.
Aerion brushed the dust away and lifted the second fragment of the Gauldur Amulet, the portion that had belonged to Sigdis for thousands of years. It was heavily wrought, ancient gold, set with a dull, slumbering gemstone. Aerion reached behind his neck and unclasped the standard silver amulet he had been wearing, dropping it into his satchel before sliding the heavy, ancient chain of the Gauldur fragment over his head.
The moment the cold metal settled against his chest, its ancient enchantment took effect.
A sudden, intense rush of vitality flooded his limbs, banishing the lingering fatigue of the dungeon. His breathing steadied instantly. The heavy armor he wore suddenly felt lighter, his muscles infused with thirty additional points of Stamina, drawn from the boundless, ancient magic woven into the gold.
But it did not stop there.
Deep beneath his armor, the magical energy of Sigdis's fragment flared, sending a pulsing wave of resonance through Aerion's magical core. It sought out the first fragment, the piece he had claimed from Jyrik Gauldurson deep within the ruins of Saarthal.
The two pieces, separated by centuries and miles of frozen earth, recognized one another. Aerion could feel the enchantments harmonizing, the magical frequencies bleeding into one another as they began merging into a more coherent, powerful whole. It was not a completed artifact yet, the final piece still eluded him, but the power within the two fragments was already stabilizing, working in tandem to fortify his body and Magicka.
Only after the resonance settled into a quiet, thrumming warmth against his chest did Aerion finally rise to his feet. He picked up the Black Bow and turned back to face his companions.
They were all staring at him.
Lydia was the first to step forward. She sheathed her sword with a sharp, echoing scrape of steel, though she did not look relaxed. She looked deeply conflicted, visibly struggling to find the right words as she looked at her Thane.
"Aerion," Lydia began, her voice echoing slightly in the damp chamber. She stopped, swallowed, and tried again. "My Thane. How... how is it that you were able to use the Thu'um?"
She gestured toward the far wall, where the devastating force of his Voice had shattered the stone and blasted Sigdis out of the air.
"You are an Altmer," she continued, her tone caught between profound respect and complete disbelief. "You only arrived in Skyrim mere months ago, after traveling across Tamriel. You could not possibly have spent years studying in high Hrothgar under the Greybeards." She paused, her brow furrowing. "Ulfric Stormcloak... the Jarl of Windhelm. He was famously trained by the Greybeards when he was young. His knowledge of the Voice, his years of isolated meditation, that was the only reason he was able to use the Thu'um to defeat High King Torygg."
She took a step closer, looking Aerion directly in the eyes. "So how did you do it?"
The implication was obvious to every Nord in the room. Without years of ascetic devotion on the throat of the world, or the divine blood of the Dragonborn, Aerion should not be able to use the Voice. It was impossible.
The three apprentices had their own profound reactions, though none of them dared speak over the housecarl.
J'zargo's tail was twitching erratically. The Khajiit's eyes were wide with a mixture of absolute fascination and barely concealed ambition. He was practically vibrating with the desire to ask a dozen questions, his mind already spinning with the possibilities of what kind of magic could replicate the power of dragons.
Onmund looked pale. As a Nord who had grown up on the ancient tales of Tongues and Dragon Priests, seeing the Voice used not by a Greybeard, not by a legendary hero of Sovngarde, but by a High Elf mage wearing heavy armor, had completely upended his understanding of his own culture's legends. He was amazed, but there was a deep, underlying shock in his eyes.
Brelyna, ever the scholar of House Telvanni, was looking at Aerion as though he were a puzzle she had just discovered was missing half its pieces. Her mind was entirely focused on the magical implications. She was already wondering whether Aerion's unnatural mastery of the Thu'um was somehow connected to his unusual understanding of spellcraft, his immense Magicka reserves, and his completely alien approach to Destruction magic.
Eisa, meanwhile, had a much simpler reaction.
She stood in the back, leaning on her greatsword, and let out a long, quiet breath. She privately decided right then and there that she had apparently chosen a very, very powerful employer. The fact that her new boss could literally shout ancient undead lords across a battlefield only reinforced her belief that abandoning the bandit life had been the smartest decision she had ever made.
Her main concern was no longer whether they would survive this tomb, but whether working for Aerion came with a steady salary and good job security, because she had absolutely no intention of ever fighting against him.
Jenassa remained perfectly quiet.
She had known Aerion longer than Eisa, longer than the apprentices. She had fought by his side through enough bizarre, deadly encounters to understand that the Altmer she served was fundamentally different from ordinary people. She did not know what he was, but she knew he was dangerous, powerful, and deeply secretive.
She did not press for an explanation. She did not widen her eyes in shock. Instead, she simply observed him, her sharp gaze analytical, recognizing that whatever elaborate explanation he was about to give them, there was inevitably far more truth hidden behind it.
Aerion took several long moments before answering.
He stood calmly in the shallow water, leaning the Gauldur Black Bow against his shoulder. Internally, his mind was racing. He knew he needed a perfectly believable, unassailable explanation.
He could not simply admit the truth. He could not tell them that he was a transmigrator from a world entirely devoid of magic. He could not say that he possessed a System that quantified reality into attributes, skills, and experience points.
He could not admit that absorbing the unbridled energy of the Eye of Magnus had mutated his magical control to a point where the boundaries of normal spellcraft no longer applied to him. And he certainly could not tell them that he had learned the Shouts through a combination of supernatural system integration and metaknowledge of a world that none of them could possibly comprehend.
But his Speechcraft was exceptionally high. His Persuasion skill made lying significantly easier, manipulating the subtle tones of his voice to sound utterly authoritative. However, the explanation itself still had to make logical sense within the strict boundaries of Tamrielic lore.
Aerion looked at Lydia, and then let his gaze sweep over the expectant faces of the three apprentices. He eventually settled on an elaborate, highly technical magical theory built around the deepest, most obscure corners of ancient history.
"I am not a Tongue, Lydia," Aerion said smoothly, his voice calm, echoing slightly against the wet stone.
He paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to capture their absolute attention.
"During my travels across Tamriel, before I ever crossed the border into Skyrim, I became deeply immersed in the study of Ehlnofex," Aerion explained, his tone shifting into the measured, authoritative cadence of a senior College instructor giving a lecture. "It is the ancient, primordial language associated with the earliest traditions of magical expression. The language of the Earthbones. The very foundation of existence before the world settled into its current shape."
He took a slow step forward, the water rippling gently around his boots.
"I am what some obscure scholars might call an Ehlnofex Phoneticist."
The title sounded incredibly academic, ancient, and obscure enough that even Brelyna and J'zargo, for all their College training, blinked in mild confusion, clearly never having heard the term used in this exact context.
"My research," Aerion continued smoothly, "led me to study how ancient spirits, primordial beings, and yes, dragons, used sound to shape reality. I spent years studying the relationship between raw sound, magical resonance, and the fabric of Mundus itself. You see, ancient practitioners did not necessarily treat these words as a language in the ordinary sense. They did not just speak. Certain sounds acted more like precise magical frequencies. Keys that unlocked the laws of nature."
Brelyna was leaning forward now, her exhaustion completely forgotten, her dark eyes wide with intellectual hunger.
"I began mapping those frequencies," Aerion lied, his voice woven with the invisible, compelling weight of his Persuasion skill. "From there, I utilized highly advanced Tonal Alteration magic to reproduce those exact patterns. Instead of relying on the Greybeards' method of religious meditation and spiritual asceticism, I approached the Voice as though it were a complex musical instrument."
He held up a hand, his fingers moving slightly as if plucking an invisible string in the air.
"A note could be studied. A resonance could be measured. A vibration could be reproduced. A frequency could be refined. The ancient Word Walls we have encountered in these Nordic ruins... they did not give me a divine blessing. They simply provided the raw data necessary for me to understand the underlying phonetic sounds. My method is based entirely on academic experimentation, Tonal magic, and deep magical theory. Not the blessing of Kyne."
He lowered his hand, his golden eyes sweeping over them. "That is why I can use the Thu'um without being trained as a Greybeard."
Aerion knew, however, that a perfect theory was often suspicious. It needed a flaw. A limitation to make it truly believable.
"But," Aerion added, his tone growing heavier, more serious. "Reproducing the Voice in this artificial, theoretical manner comes with a severe cost. It consumes enormous, almost debilitating amounts of Magicka to force reality to bend without the natural soul of a dragon."
He looked at Lydia, making sure she understood the distinction. "Unlike Aeloria, whose status as the Dragonborn allows her to absorb the very souls of dragons and use their Shouts as naturally as breathing, my method requires me to supply the raw magical energy myself. The conversion rate is staggering. I cannot simply shout endlessly. If I use it recklessly, it will drain my reserves completely and leave me defenseless."
He gestured to the ash pile behind him. "That limitation is why I waited until Sigdis had pushed the battle to its absolute breaking point. I only used it because it became mathematically necessary for our survival."
Aerion stood perfectly still, letting the explanation wash over them. He made it sound like a lifetime of obsessive study, a brilliant, unorthodox theory he had spent decades refining, rather than a lie he had cobbled together five seconds ago.
His Persuasion skill quietly, seamlessly reinforced every single syllable. The effect was not obvious. It did not look or feel like mind control, nor did their eyes glaze over in a charm spell. Instead, Aerion's words simply became unusually coherent. His logic felt ironclad. The cadence of his voice was so convincing, so reasonable, that the profoundly strange theory settled into their minds as something bizarre, highly dangerous, but technically possible.
The three apprentices immediately began turning the explanation over in their minds, their extensive College education working against them as they connected Aerion's lie with things they actually knew. Tonal manipulation was real, the Dwemer had used it to bend the world. Sound based magic existed. Ancient Nordic traditions were full of songs that changed the weather.
Lydia and Eisa remained skeptical for a long, quiet moment. Eisa was squinting, trying to make sense of the heavy magical jargon, while Lydia was struggling to reconcile her cultural faith with this cold, academic breakdown of the Voice.
Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Lydia nodded.
The explanation was entirely strange. It felt almost blasphemous to reduce the Thu'um to 'measured frequencies'. But it made enough sense. Especially coming from Aerion, who consistently treated all magic as a science rather than a mystery.
"I... I still find it hard to truly comprehend," Lydia admitted, her voice quiet but steady. "To reduce the Voice of the ancient Tongues to... to tonal alteration. But I cannot deny what I just saw. If your studies have allowed you to wield such power, then I am just thankful you are on our side, my Thane."
Onmund let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. "By Shor," he muttered, shaking his head. "If the Greybeards ever heard you say you treated the Voice like a musical instrument to be measured, they would likely throw you off the mountain. But... it makes sense. From a magical perspective, it actually makes sense. It's a completely different perspective on the Thu'um."
Brelyna was nodding rapidly, her hands clasped together. "The Dwemer used Tonal Architecture to shape stone and metal through resonant frequencies," she said, her voice rising in excitement. "If you applied similar principles to Ehlnofex phonetics, and channeled it through Alteration instead of mechanics... Aerion, the magical resonance required to replicate that without tearing your own vocal cords apart is staggering."
"This one is amazed," J'zargo interrupted, taking a step forward, his tail swishing eagerly. "Aerion must teach this to J'zargo! If J'zargo can learn to measure these frequencies, J'zargo will be the most powerful mage in the College!"
Aerion raised a hand, cutting off the Khajiit's enthusiasm immediately.
"I can investigate whether you have the necessary aptitude to reproduce this kind of resonance when we return," Aerion told the three apprentices smoothly. "But I must be honest, I suspect you do not. There is an unusual, highly dangerous sensitivity required to perceive and recreate the exact tonal structures involved without causing permanent magical backlash."
He looked at J'zargo directly. "I can test the three of you later. But for now, do not expect miracles."
The apprentices looked visibly disappointed, their shoulders drooping slightly, but the promise of a test kept them eager.
Aerion then let his expression harden, his golden eyes turning dead serious as he looked at each of them in turn.
"What you have witnessed here today must remain a secret," Aerion commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Especially the three of you. If you go back to the College of Winterhold and casually discuss an Expert Mage who learned to mimic the Thu'um through Ehlnofex phonetics, we will attract immediate, highly undesirable attention. The Thalmor, the Greybeards, the Arch-Mage, everyone will want to know how it was done. Are we understood?"
J'zargo, Onmund, and Brelyna straightened up, recognizing the severity of his tone. "We promise, Aerion. Not a word," Onmund said firmly, the others nodding in immediate agreement.
Aerion shifted his gaze to the mercenary. "Eisa. This applies to you as well. What you see while under my employ stays under my employ."
Eisa held up her hands in mock surrender. "Boss, I used to run with the Blackbloods. I know how to keep my mouth shut. You shout at undead lords, you do weird magic, you pay me on time. That's all I need to know."
Aerion nodded, satisfied that the explanation had not only held together, but had completely insulated him from further suspicion.
He then returned his attention to the matter of the Gauldur Black Bow still resting in his hand. It was a powerful artifact, but he had no intention of carrying it openly.
Focusing his intent, he accessed the System.
With a thought, the heavy, obsidian dark bow completely vanished from his grip.
[Item Added: Gauldur Black Bow]
[Inventory Weight increased by 2.5 KG]
The sudden, absolute disappearance of the massive weapon caused another immediate round of stunned reactions.
Brelyna gasped, taking a step forward. J'zargo's jaw actually dropped.
"Wait, where did it go?" Onmund asked, looking frantically around Aerion's feet as if expecting the bow to have dropped into the water. "Did you just cast an invisibility spell on it?"
"How did you make the weapon vanish?" J'zargo demanded, his eyes wide. "J'zargo felt no conjuration magic! It was not banished to Oblivion!"
Eisa, however, simply snorted from the back of the room, surprising the apprentices by already having an explanation.
"You're just noticing?" the mercenary asked, rolling her eyes. She pointed a leather clad finger at the small, unassuming leather satchel resting on Aerion's hip. "Since the day I joined up with him, that little bag has somehow carried an absurd amount of septims, potions, and spare equipment. I've been wondering for weeks where he keeps everything. I watched him pull a full sized iron battleaxe out of that thing three days ago."
Aerion turned to the apprentices, giving them the exact same calm, practiced explanation he had used with Lydia and Valdemar months ago.
"It is a specialized storage dimension spell," Aerion explained casually, patting the leather satchel. "I developed it through years of experimentation and magical research while traveling across Tamriel. It creates a small, localized personal storage space anchored to this satchel. It is an extremely difficult application of Alteration and Mysticism, but I have spent years refining it to bypass standard luggage problem."
He kept the true nature of the System completely hidden, wrapping its mechanics in yet another layer of high level magical theory.
The three apprentices stared at him in genuine, unadulterated awe.
Their respect for Aerion, which was already incredibly high, suddenly spiked into something bordering on reverence. J'zargo, Onmund, and Brelyna began quietly realizing that the Altmer they were following might not actually belong at the Expert rank for much longer.
They exchanged subtle, wide eyed glances.
What kind of Expert Mage could fight on the front lines in heavy armor? What kind of Expert wielded Destruction magic at masterful levels without incantations? Who could create completely unfamiliar spells, manipulate raw Magicka with such absurd precision, mimic the ancient Thu'um through phonetic theory, and maintain a permanent, localized personal dimensional storage spell?
They began privately wondering, in the silence of their own minds, whether Aerion was actually better suited to the rank of Master Mage. Or perhaps, given a few more years, even Arch-Mage. Their thoughts did not devolve into childish worship, they were scholars, after all, but they recognized with absolute clarity that they were learning from someone whose magical development had completely exceeded the normal boundaries of the College of Winterhold.
Aerion noticed their reactions, the subtle shifts in their posture and the awe in their eyes, but he deliberately chose not to comment on them.
"It is time to move," Aerion announced, breaking the spell. "We have what we came for, and I have no desire to spend another hour in this flooded tomb."
They turned away from the remains of Sigdis Gauldurson, leaving the flooded chamber behind as they navigated back toward the upper passage. They moved quietly, the adrenaline fully gone now, replaced by the deep, aching weariness that always followed a raid on an ancient ruin.
As they reached the area near the stone bridge, retracing their earlier exit route, Aerion knew of course of the narrow open hidden path leading farther back into the crypt. He signaled for the group to follow, leading them up a short incline and into a much smaller, dry chamber.
Resting against the far wall was a large, heavy steel chest, its locking mechanism rusted but intact.
Aerion stepped forward, drew a lockpick from his pouch, and made quick work of the ancient tumblers. The lid groaned open, revealing the hoard Sigdis had accumulated over the millennia.
Inside rested neat stacks of ancient coins, totaling roughly 3,000 septims. Beside them lay four heavy, gleaming gold bars. A velvet lined box held a collection of soul gems, then leaning against the back of the chest were several high quality steel weapons, swords and war axes that were incredibly well forged, but utterly ordinary.
Aerion did not hesitate. The four gold bars vanished immediately into his dimensional storage.
[Item Added: Gold Ingot x4]
[Inventory Weight increased by 1.5 KG]
He did not hoard everything, however. He evaluated the steel weapons quickly, deemed them not particularly interesting or valuable enough to weigh himself down with, and left them behind, telling Lydia and Eisa they could take them if they had a direct use for them. Neither woman wanted the extra weight. Aerion carefully counted the soul gems. It was a highly useful haul for his future enchanting work, two Grand Soul Gems glowing with trapped energy, four Common Soul Gems, and five Lesser Soul Gems, of course all of it was filled. He stored them all meticulously into his inventory, increasing his weight by 0.3 KG.
_____________________________
[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, Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, Dwarven Shield, Wuuthrad's Fragments, Staff of Fireball, Mage Boots Of Weight, Master Robes Of Destruction, Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson, & Gauldur Black Bow
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, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), & Greater Soul Gems
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Gold Bars
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows, Ancient Nord Arrows, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
10x Lesser Soul Gems
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 97.71 KG / 750 KG
Septims: 80,867