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His meticulous, practical preparations were finally beginning to pay massive dividends. His smithing was improving. His businesses were rapidly expanding across the province. His household was growing into a fortress. His magical students were becoming a lethal vanguard. His political influence was spreading into the highest courts of Skyrim. And now, he had discovered yet another unexpected, reality bending use of his system. For Aerion, even an ordinary, mundane day of selling loot in Whiterun was rapidly becoming another opportunity to build something vastly larger.
After retrieving the hidden wealth and the Staff of Frost from Warmaiden's, Aerion navigated back through the bustling streets of Whiterun toward the Bannered Mare.
As he pulled open the heavy wooden doors, the tavern was filled with a loud, chaotic energy. The overwhelming smell of freshly baked pizza crust, searing burgers, and hot, salted french fries completely dominated the usual scent of roasted pheasant and stale ale. Patrons from wildly different backgrounds, city guards, passing merchants, local farmers, and even a few traveling Khajiit who had snuck into the city, were eagerly eating, drinking, and talking over the loud sizzle of the kitchen.
It was abundantly clear that Ysolda's culinary business due to Aerion delicacies had evolved from a novelty into a massive, undeniable commercial success.
Aerion scanned the crowded room and spotted his group seated comfortably at a large table near the back.
He didn't join them immediately. He made his way toward the bar.
Ysolda was standing behind the counter, rapidly calculating totals in a leather ledger. The moment she looked up and saw him, she dropped her quill. She quickly navigated around the bar and greeted him with a warm, lingering hug. The affection felt completely natural, a comfortable anchor after the brutal isolation of the northern holds.
As she pulled back, her green eyes caught the intricate, frost-rimed wood of the staff resting in his left hand.
"Is that...?" she asked, her eyebrows rising.
"The Staff of Frost," Aerion confirmed with a smile. "I brought it specifically for you. With this, you can maintain the magical cold in the cellar without waiting for me or Eirik whenever I leave Whiterun."
Ysolda looked thrilled, reaching out to touch the cold wood. "This will save us so much anxiety regarding the fermentation temperatures. Should we test it?"
"I will set it up for you right now," Aerion offered.
He followed her through the bustling, heat soaked kitchen, nodding to Hulda, and descended the wooden stairs into the secure cellar.
The cold storage room was still functioning, but the heavy magical frost Aerion had laid down weeks ago was finally beginning to wane. He noticed that the thick ice coating the stone walls had begun to melt slightly at the edges, pooling water near the base of the fermentation vats.
Aerion stepped into the center of the room and raised the Staff of Frost.
He didn't simply blast the room with raw frost spells. First, he channeled a controlled stream of frost to quickly drop the ambient temperature. Then, seamlessly tapping into the extraordinary, cosmic control granted by the Eye of Magnus, he exponentially increased the staff's output while maintaining razor sharp, micromanaged control over the thermal dynamics.
He directed the freezing energy explicitly into the stone, flash freezing the moisture in the walls and reinforcing the existing ice layers without cracking the mortar or damaging the building's structural integrity. Within a minute, the cellar was restored to the exact, biting cold required for long term mammoth cheese fermentation.
Ysolda stood near the stairs, watching him work with a mixture of wide eyed amazement and deep, practical satisfaction.
The cold cellar was no longer just a magical curiosity or an experiment. It was the vital, beating heart of her most lucrative business.
"The staff will eventually be yours to wield without me present," Aerion reminded her, lowering the staff as his breath plumed in the freezing air. "Provided you keep enough charged soul gems available to feed its enchantment, you can maintain this climate indefinitely."
"I have the gold you gave me," Ysolda promised, her breath also visible. "I'll secure the gems tomorrow."
With the cellar stabilized, they returned upstairs to the warmth of the tavern.
Aerion joined his companions at the back table. Everyone was happily eating. The pizza, thick burgers, and fries were visibly popular. J'zargo was attempting to eat a slice of pizza with entirely too much dignity, while Eisa and Onmund were openly devouring their burgers with zero pretense, clearly enjoying the food vastly more than they were willing to admit.
Aerion chuckled softly as he pulled up a chair. "Enjoy yourselves. Eat as much as you like, the tab is covered."
He let them finish their meal in peace before addressing the table.
"I am going to Dragonsreach to meet with Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion announced quietly. "Anyone who wishes to remain here at the tavern and rest is welcome to do so."
Lydia stood up instantly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Aeloria and Valdemar followed a second later, their chairs scraping against the floorboards.
All three of them insisted on accompanying him. Aerion accepted the vanguard with a nod, and the four of them left the warm noise of the Bannered Mare, walking briskly up the stone steps toward the Cloud District.
When they arrived at the massive wooden doors of Dragonsreach, the Whiterun guards recognized the two Thanes immediately, stepping aside and allowing them inside without hesitation.
They entered the sweeping, fire lit main hall.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was seated heavily on his throne, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Gathered closely around him were Irileth, Proventus Avenicci, and Hrongar.
The four of them were locked in a deep, incredibly tense discussion regarding the worsening reality of the civil war.
The conversation was dead serious. They all knew the strategic truth: tens of thousands of hardened Stormcloak soldiers were now garrisoned across the Pale and Eastmarch borders. They also knew that Ulfric Stormcloak's famously short patience was rapidly running out. Jarl Balgruuf had expertly delayed making a final decision for months, but everyone in the room understood that the political window for remaining comfortably undecided was violently slamming shut.
"The existing guard forces simply may not be enough, my Jarl," Irileth warned, her dark eyes flashing. "If Ulfric commits his northern armies in a coordinated, full-strength assault across the plains, the outer walls will buckle."
"Whiterun has survived vastly worse than Ulfric's ambition!" Hrongar argued loudly, slapping his hand against his sword hilt. "Our strategic position gives us the absolute high ground. The plains offer them no cover!"
"And what of the food, Hrongar?" Proventus countered, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety. "What of the supply lines? If the Stormcloaks lay siege, the merchants stop coming. Have you calculated thestaggering cost of mobilizing and feeding a larger defensive force from our reserves?"
The conversation felt like a genuine, desperate council of war, rather than a simple recitation of military statistics.
When Aerion, Aeloria, Lydia, and Valdemar entered the hall, their heavy boots echoing on the stone, the argument stopped instantly.
Jarl Balgruuf looked up, his weary face breaking into a welcoming smile. He signaled for his advisors to pause. The political dynamic had shifted recently, after all Aerion possessed a formal visible relationship with the Imperial Legion, meaning he was no longer just a neutral Thane.
"Aerion. Aeloria," Jarl Balgruuf greeted them warmly, standing up from the throne. "It has been almost two weeks, Aerion. Where have you been hiding?"
Aerion offered a respectful bow, chuckling softly. "I have not been hiding, my Jarl. I have spent the time traveling the breadth of Skyrim. Conducting arcane research, exploring holds I had never visited, and handling several personal matters of... expansion."
Jarl Balgruuf accepted the diplomatic answer with a nod, sitting back down.
"I confess, I overheard a fragment of your conversation as I entered," Aerion admitted, his tone growing serious. "It sounds as though the situation on your borders has become vastly more dangerous than it was when I left."
Jarl Balgruuf sighed heavily, rubbing his bearded chin. "It has. But I must remind you, Aerion... whatever our personal friendship may be, you are now openly serving the Empire. Your political position in this city is no longer neutral."
"I am part of the Legion, yes," Aerion argued smoothly, taking a step forward. "But I am also a Thane of Whiterun. My first, immediate responsibility is the safety of this hold, and the people within it. I will never ignore a threat to Whiterun simply because my broader military allegiance lies with Solitude. If there is something I can do to protect your city, Jarl Balgruuf, I will do it."
Jarl Balgruuf stared at the High Elf for a long, quiet moment, weighing the sincerity of the words.
Finally, the Jarl leaned forward, asking a carefully chosen, highly pointed question.
"During your travels east... did you happen to hear anything useful regarding the Stormcloaks?"
Aerion confirmed that he had.
He didn't reveal the terrifying, omniscient existence of his invisible animal network. Instead, he presented the hard intelligence as highly reliable information he had cleverly gathered, overheard, and deduced from merchants, off duty soldiers, and tavern keepers while moving through the northern holds.
"The Stormcloaks project immense strength, my Jarl, but they are currently suffering under a massive logistical strain," Aerion reported calmly. "Their northern forces are spread entirely too thin across several borders. Morale in the camps is beginning to curdle because the war has stalled into a defensive waiting game. Ulfric is growing incredibly eager, perhaps desperate, to force a definitive decision from Whiterun to regain his momentum."
Irileth leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "And their supply lines?"
"Struggling," Aerion answered smoothly. "Riften is not contributing everything Ulfric demands, due to internal political friction. Dawnstar and Winterhold are paralyzed by their own economic and geographical difficulties. Furthermore, Ulfric's commanders are acutely aware that once the snow melts in the southern passes, and the Imperial armies in Cyrodiil can march north more freely... their strategic window to win this war will become impossibly small."
Aerion did not dump every single troop count or logistical secret he possessed. He protected his sources and preserved the highest value intelligence for General Tullius, but he gave Jatl Balgruuf exactly enough to understand that Ulfric was under immense pressure. The rebellion was not an unstoppable juggernaut with an unlimited capacity for war.
Jarl Balgruuf absorbed the intelligence with dead seriousness.
Irileth was visibly fascinated by the logistical breakdown, while Hrongar crossed his arms.
"Can we truly trust tavern rumors and merchant gossip?" Hrongar questioned gruffly.
"No single rumor should ever be trusted completely, Hrongar," Aerion answered smoothly. "But when the exact same logistical complaints echo from the docks of Dawnstar to the taverns of Riften... the consistency of the reports makes me believe there is undeniable truth behind them."
The intelligence subtly, effectively pushed Balgruuf much closer to recognizing the absolute danger of delaying his decision any longer.
Jarl Balgruuf sighed, shifting the conversation to the other existential threat hanging over the city.
"The civil war is not my only bleeding wound," Balgruuf admitted grimly. "The dragons continue to appear throughout the hold. The danger is entirely unpredictable. Even if I choose the Empire tomorrow, a dragon does not care which banner flies over the gates of Whiterun."
"We agree entirely, my Jarl," Aerion nodded. He gestured to Aeloria. "The Dragonborn and I will continue hunting the beasts whenever possible. The primary difficulty is that dragons do not sit on peaks waiting for hunters to arrive. By the time a courier reaches us with a sighting, the dragon has often already burned a village and moved on. But we will continue looking for ways to intercept them before they strike."
Aeloria stepped forward, her voice ringing with absolute conviction. "I intend to continue protecting the people of Whiterun, Jarl Balgruuf. Regardless of the politics of the war."
Jarl Balgruuf looked deeply between the two Thanes, his expression softening with genuine gratitude.
Then, he made a highly serious, incredibly significant statement.
"Aerion," Jarl Balgruuf said quietly, his voice dropping in volume. "I may soon require your assistance in speaking directly with General Tullius, if the situation doesn't change."
The implication hung in the air like a drawn sword. Balgruuf was finally signaling that he might be ready to cooperate openly with the Empire, but he needed a trusted intermediary to understand exactly what military assistance the Legion could actually provide before he painted a target on his own city.
The room reacted carefully. Irileth immediately stiffened, her tactical mind racing. Hrongar looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening. Aeloria remained perfectly silent, but she understood the massive political shift that had just occurred.
Aerion simply smiled behind his mask, offering a deep, respectful bow.
"I will help you to the absolute best of my ability, my Jarl," Aerion promised.
After the meeting concluded, Aerion left Dragonsreach with his companions.
However, he did not immediately return to the road.
Instead, he made a deliberate decision to spend the next three days remaining in Whiterun.
The following three days formed a much needed, profoundly calmer period, allowing the relentless pace of his life to finally slow down after weeks of brutal combat, espionage, and travel.
Aerion focused his energy entirely on four distinct pillars, his businesses, his smithing, his students, and Ysolda.
At Tundra Homestead, utilizing Sinmir's strict screening process, Aerion personally interviewed several candidates for the newly created civilian positions. After careful consideration, he hired three dedicated workers.
First was Hroki Stonehand, a sturdy, practical Nord woman with extensive experience in dairy management and winter food storage. She possessed a meticulous attention to detail that Aerion respected. Second was Maren Valgus, a sharp eyed Imperial man with a deep background in caravan accounting, inventory management, and trade logistics. Finally, he hired Elrindil, a quiet Bosmer who possessed an almost encyclopedic knowledge of herbs, alchemical ingredients, and delicate food preparation.
Aerion made the absolute confidentiality of the mammoth-cheese operation explicitly clear to all three of them.
"Certain ingredients, our specific production methods, and our herd management practices are strictly private matters," Aerion told them, his golden eyes locking onto each of them in turn. "If you betray this trust, there will be consequences."
He didn't make a cartoonish, bloody threat. His manner was so perfectly calm, so effortlessly authoritative, that the workers understood instantly that he was entirely serious without him needing to be cruel. He then handed them their first week's pay in advance, an incredibly generous sum, creating the exact balance he desired, excellent wages, stable housing, and clear, undeniable consequences for betrayal.
Simultaneously, Aerion spent hours improving the estate's smithing facilities, working steadily at the forge.
He produced massive quantities of iron and steel equipment for the mercenaries. His hammer rang against the anvil from dawn until dusk, his strikes becoming flawlessly efficient.
On the afternoon of the third day, the System finally recognized his relentless dedication.
[Skill: Smithing Leveled Up! Level 99 ➔ Level MAX]
[Maximum Mastery Reached. Initiate Legendary Reset?]
Aerion accepted instantly.
[LEGENDARY RESET EXECUTED: Smithing ➔ (+1)]
[Skill Level reset to 0.]
Aerion wiped the sweat from his brow, deeply satisfied. He didn't view the reset as throwing away his skill, it was a necessary mechanism for his long term, exponential growth. He fully intended to build the skill back up while continuing to forge superior armaments for his private army.
During these three peaceful days, Aerion also dedicated significant time to training J'zargo, Onmund, Brelyna, and his newest student, Eirik.
The lessons were intense, covering Destruction, Restoration, Conjuration, and basic melee survival. Aerion subtly utilized the cosmic perception of the Eye of Magnus to observe their internal magical circulation, instantly identifying and correcting inefficient casting techniques. The apprentices continued improving at a pace that felt unusually fast, but entirely believable given the caliber of their instruction. Eirik, the young mercenary battlemage, benefited profoundly from having access to a true master, his spells becoming vastly more stable and lethal.
Aerion also drilled them in practical combat with the new staffs and weapons he had distributed, steadily molding the young scholars into highly versatile combatants rather than fragile, stationary spellcasters.
But amidst the training and the business, Aerion spent considerable, quiet time with Ysolda.
Their time together felt wonderfully personal and beautifully ordinary compared to the massive, world-shaking events constantly surrounding him. They walked through the bustling markets of Whiterun. They shared quiet meals at the Bannered Mare. They discussed the expanding logistics of the cheese business, and talked late into the night about their future architectural plans for Tundra Homestead.
"I give you three days," Ysolda teased him gently one evening, leaning against the balcony of the mansion. "You seem entirely incapable of staying home for more than a few days before you find another ancient ruin or some highly dangerous Imperial expedition to throw yourself into."
Aerion chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You may be right. But I enjoy the quiet while it lasts."
These three days truly felt like a rare, golden period of absolute peace. No draugr. No Dragon Priests. No Thalmor assassins. No major battles. Just managing, and enjoying, everything he had built.
But by the end of the third day, reality inevitably intruded.
The new workers were seamlessly settling into their roles. The cheese production was running with flawless efficiency. His smithing had reached Legendary mastery, and his students were progressing beautifully.
His intelligence mission was complete.
He had gathered vital, actionable information from Winterhold, Dawnstar, Windhelm, Riften, and Whiterun. He possessed exactly enough hard intelligence to provide General Tullius and Legate Rikke with a devastatingly meaningful strategic report. He also needed to report on Jarl Balgruuf's shifting political position.
It was time to travel to Solitude.
Aerion gathered his expeditionary group: Lydia, Jenassa, Eisa, J'zargo, Onmund, and Brelyna.
He did not include Aeloria and Valdemar. The previous arrangement remained perfectly consistent, the Dragonborn and his most trusted mercenary commander would remain behind to protect Whiterun and ensure the absolute defense of the estate.
Before departing, Aerion pulled Sinmir aside, making sure the Captain understood exactly who was remaining at the homestead and what their specific duties were. The new civilian workers would continue their production. Aeloria and Valdemar would anchor the defense. Ysolda would oversee the commercial empire.
"I will return as soon as my Imperial business is concluded," Aerion promised Ysolda, kissing her softly before mounting his horse.
With the preparations complete, Aerion equipped his heavy Nordic Carved Armor, checked his weapons, and adjusted his satchel.
The group rode out of Whiterun, their horses kicking up dust as they took the main road heading northwest toward the capital of Solitude.
As the towering, majestic walls of Whiterun slowly disappeared behind them, swallowed by the rolling hills of the tundra, Aerion reflected quietly on exactly how much had changed since he first arrived in Skyrim.
He had begun as a complete stranger, waking up in a forest with absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back and a mysterious System.
Now, he possessed a sprawling home. He commanded a lethal mercenary company. He had multiple, fiercely loyal retainers and a vanguard of powerful students. He had a rapidly growing, highly lucrative commercial business. He wielded massive political influence and an invisible intelligence network.
He had earned the trust of a Jarl, fostered a deep, growing relationship with Ysolda, and had the infinite, cosmic power of the Eye of Magnus hidden securely in his possession, yet, the civil war still raged. Dragons continued to tear the sky apart. The Thalmor remained a looming, existential threat, and somewhere, far beyond the winding roads ahead, the next violent stage of his grand design was waiting in Solitude. The peaceful three days were officially over. It was time to return to the Solitude, and report exactly what he had learned.
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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, the Golden Claw, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Deed to Tundra Homestead, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Potion of Healing, Wuuthrad's Fragments, Mage Boots Of Weight, Master Robes Of Destruction, Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson, & Gauldur Black Bow
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Potions of Plentiful Magicka
3x Potions of Minor Stamina, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), Potions of Minor Magicka, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), & Greater Soul Gems
5x Mod Chests
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: 47.71 KG / 750 KG
Septims: 102,867