Simon looked at the small, hovering flame in front of him, lost in thought.
Forcibly binding magic energy with mental power was very ineffective. If the magic energy core was like a reservoir or a lake, then mental power, when released, was roughly the size of a large bowl. The amount of magic energy that could be mobilized at the same time was vastly different.
This led to Simon truly having no affinity with spellcasting.
He sighed, withdrew his thoughts, and the small flame in front of him extinguished in an instant. This little bit of heat, at least he wouldn't have to worry about starting fires in the future.
Jonas also noticed the Troll's disappointment. He put his arm around Simon's, "Sir, don't be discouraged."
"Hmm, I'm not discouraged. You practice first. I'm going to find someone to translate the spell. Stay in the tavern, don't run around, and don't talk to strangers." Simon slowly nodded, then stood up. Jonas was still holding his arm tightly. "Kid, I'll be right back."
"My mom used to say that too." The boy's expression was originally indifferent, but after saying this, his eyes began to sparkle.
"Don't cry, I never lie."
"What if you're lying about that too?"
Simon chuckled, somewhat amused. His gaze swept over the cramped tavern room, seeing a deer head specimen hanging on the wall opposite the door. He pointed at the deer head and said, "If I lie to you, I'll eat that head."
Jonas squinted, then released Simon. "I believe you. Hurry back, sir."
Simon found the owner, asked for some parchment and charcoal sticks, copied the text from the spellbook, and ordered some food for Jonas to eat and drink to warm himself up.
The owner came in carrying a wooden tray with a bowl of vegetable cheese soup, a roasted lamb chop, and a small pot of boiled potatoes. He placed the food on the round table, gestured for them to enjoy, and then asked Simon, "Wouldn't you like a bottle of mead?"
"mead?" Simon repeated.
"Yes, freshly stocked mead, good stuff from Whiterun Hold. It's already been warmed, so it's incredibly comforting to drink. Even the Jarl loves it." The owner smiled, holding the tray in one hand, leaning against the doorframe in a relaxed posture.
"Get a bottle for this kid."
Simon, carrying the copied parchment, hurried out of the tavern, leaving Jonas staring blankly at the steaming food on the table.
As soon as he stepped out of the tavern, a cold wind immediately hit his face. Simon lowered his head, tightened his hat brim, and slowly walked along the street. Beneath his black robe, the spine of his steel longsword gently tapped his hip, its sound, along with his footsteps, drowned in the snow.
The sun should have been up for a while now, but Winterhold was still gloomy. No matter how enthusiastic the people of Skyrim were, upon arriving in Winterhold, they couldn't help but be struck speechless by the desolate and bleak atmosphere.
He encountered the Guards again, and this time their jokes were even more malicious.
"Let me guess, someone stole your sweetroll?"
After one Guard spoke, all the Guards laughed.
"Alright, stay alert." The captain, having had her laugh, waved her hand and continued patrolling. As they passed Simon, they all held their heads high, displaying their height.
"You should eat more, dwarf."
Simon grumbled in response, "Thanks for your concern."
He continued walking for a while. In front of a two-story house by the roadside, two people were arguing. The man was drunk, and the woman was waving her arms, scolding loudly. The man, his face flushed, also constantly retorted.
Simon couldn't get used to their rapid-fire Nordic cursing, and at this moment, the passersby on the road were completely indifferent to it.
The Troll took two steps forward and used simple Nordic to attract their attention, "You two! You two, don't argue! If there's something wrong, say it, calmly."
The Nord woman snorted, then turned to Simon and forced a smile, "Sorry, my brother is an ignorant drunkard, always getting wasted all day. Only I am responsible for balancing the household's income and expenses... What would you like to buy?"
The drunkard shouted, "Heh heh, don't act like you're the only smart one! Otherwise, you wouldn't be making a losing trade!"
The woman's face fell. "Shut up, Ranmir! That's not a losing trade. What I bought is a treasure, a key to a treasure. As long as I meet someone who knows its worth, I can make a fortune right away."
"A treasure? Can I see it?" Simon inquired.
"Oh, of course, customer. Let's go inside and talk." The woman turned and pushed open the door, entering the house. The sign above the door had a general store's logo. The walls of this house were made of stacked stones, with mud filling the gaps, looking not very sturdy.
The drunkard muttered a few words, then turned and headed towards the tavern. Simon followed the woman inside.
The woman stood behind the counter, laughing, "Welcome to Birna's Oddities!"
"Good name, good name." The Troll pretended to nod in appreciation, flattering her a bit.
Upon entering, there was a large fireplace with a roaring, warm, and bright fire. The counter was on the right. The woman took out a coral-red, dragon-claw-shaped small sculpture and placed it on the counter. Simon walked over, picked up the coral dragon claw, and examined it in the firelight for a while.
Three claws, with three patterns on the palm of the dragon claw, from top to bottom: snake, wolf, moth. Additionally, there was a handle on the wrist, perpendicular to the back of the claw.
Birna said with a smile, "These things are not uncommon. They say they're related to those ancient tombs. Also, the fellow who sold it to me told me that this dragon claw might be connected to Irkngthand, southeast of Windhelm." As she spoke, the woman made a gesture, indicating a long journey.
Simon grumbled, "So far."
Birna said eagerly, "Ah, customer, think about it, this is a treasure! You might make a fortune."
"Might..."
"You'll definitely make a fortune." Birna's tone was somewhat hurried.
"I can buy it, but I need you to do me a favor and look at these words." Simon handed over the parchment. The shop owner took it, examined it for a moment, "Oh, this isn't difficult. I've read many books and speak three languages. Hmm, this says 'Aetherius above, Oblivion below, elements converge, fire is born.' Uh, what I said might not be exact. Some words look very strange. Perhaps you could go find the Court Wizard. But honestly, you're trying to learn a spell, aren't you? You'd be better off saving money for a good set of armor."
"How much for the dragon claw?"
...Five Septims, please."
"Wait a moment, I'll get the money." Simon nodded. His coin purse was on Jonas.
"Uh, three! Three gold coins will do!"
"I know, just a moment."
"Oh! One gold coin, no less!"
Simon waved his sleeve and pushed open the door, leaving. His resolute manner made the shop owner so angry that she slammed the parchment onto the counter, clenched her fists tightly, and finally sighed helplessly.
When Simon returned to the general store with the gold coins, Birna was sulking, leaning on the counter.
Five shiny Septims rattled on the counter for a while, producing an increasingly rapid buzzing sound as they spun. Birna was roused, hastily gathered the gold coins, and silently examined the five coins in her palm, counting out four and tossing them back onto the counter.
"We agreed on one, so it's one. Nords never lie."
Simon softly mumbled, "One for the dragon claw, four for the knowledge. Goodbye, Birna."
The Troll turned and pushed open the door, leaving once again.
[Quest: Coral Dragon Claw]
Description: I bought a dragon claw from a general store in Winterhold. The owner said it was related to an ancient tomb. Perhaps I should go check it out.
Quest One (Incomplete): Go to Irkngthand
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