"Don't just kneel there," Rowan said. "See what's valuable and pack everything."
He lifted the strange stone tablet from the table beneath the dragon wall and glanced at Arvel, who was still frozen in shock.
Rowan wasn't great at judging prices.
Arvel was.
So cleanup duty went to him.
Arvel jolted back to reality and immediately began scouring the chamber, moving with frantic efficiency.
By the Eight… he shouted a draugr lord into dust.
That was more terrifying than any warlord Arvel had ever heard of.
Rowan examined the tablet in his hands.
"This holds the resting place of our fallen king. By Alduin's power, he will rise again."
At least, that was the rough meaning.
He turned it over.
A carved map marked the burial sites of long-dead dragons.
Rowan memorized it.
Then placed the tablet back where it belonged.
He had no intention of bringing it to Whiterun.
The treasure he'd already collected was more than enough.
More importantly, that tablet was part of someone else's story.
Removing it would start ripples he didn't want.
Rowan preferred to stay invisible to the deeper forces moving behind this world.
Half an hour later, Arvel staggered over, dragging a sack nearly as tall as himself.
"Everything valuable is in here," he said nervously.
Rowan took the sack.
"Two choices," he said calmly.
"One. I turn you over to the merchant in Riverwood."
"Two. You work for me for a year. After that, you're free."
Arvel went silent.
The sensible choice was prison.
A few months behind bars, maybe a fine.
But Arvel had never been sensible.
He craved ruins.
Secrets.
The thrill of discovery.
And after what he'd seen today, he understood something painful.
Alone, he would die.
Sooner rather than later.
Following Rowan meant danger.
But it also meant survival.
And wonder.
"I choose the second option," Arvel said. "I'll serve you."
Rowan nodded.
"Good. Now see if there's a hidden exit."
Arvel shook his head.
"No mechanisms. I checked while looting."
Rowan paused.
Then smiled faintly.
Of course.
Secret back exits existed in games.
Not in real tomb construction.
"Fine. We'll make one."
He walked to the far wall, listened briefly, and punched.
The rock wall exploded outward, leaving a jagged hole.
Beyond it was open sky.
Riverwood looked tiny far below.
Arvel stared.
"Sir… we can't climb down that."
Rowan picked him up with one hand.
He grabbed the sack with the other.
Then stepped off the edge.
Arvel screamed.
Loudly.
The ground rushed toward them at horrifying speed.
Just before impact, Rowan inhaled deeply and blasted a massive stream of air downward.
The counterforce slowed their fall.
They hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Alive.
Unbroken.
Arvel lay there, staring at the sky, shaking.
Rowan released him.
"Next time," Rowan said, "try not to scream."
...
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