On the eastern slope above Riverwood's sawmill, four children were playing at make-believe when a sudden gale slammed into them, sending them tumbling into a heap.
Before they could even scream, two figures drifted down from the sky and landed on the hillside below. Terrified, the children scrambled to their feet and bolted for home.
"Mom! Mom! Someone flew down from the mountain!"
After his boots finally touched solid ground and his racing heart settled, Avier sucked in a sharp breath, legs still trembling.
"Sir… your lungs are stronger than a dragon's."
He meant it. Slowing a fall by sheer force of breath was something he had never heard of, let alone witnessed. The wind Rowan Mercer had expelled felt stronger than any storm spell Avier had seen cast by a mage.
Even the most skilled alteration magic could only soften a fall from a few dozen meters. Jumping from a mountain thousands of meters high and walking away was unthinkable.
"Head to the northern exit of town and wait for me," Rowan said calmly. "I'll meet you there once I'm done, then we leave for Whiterun."
Avier nodded at once. "Understood. I'll wait at the fork near the bridge."
As he turned to leave, a strange roar rolled through the sky. Avier froze and instinctively looked up.
His legs nearly gave out.
"A… dragon?"
He had only ever seen such creatures in old histories. Many scholars even claimed dragons were nothing more than legends. The last recorded sighting had been over two thousand years ago.
And yet, a colossal shadow swept overhead.
Rowan glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Alduin. Looks like Helgen is completely finished. The Dragonborn should arrive soon enough."
He had sensed Alduin long before Avier noticed. There was no need for concern. After venting its fury on Riverwood, the World-Eater would retreat to rest and begin reviving other dragons.
"Don't worry about it," Rowan said, already turning away. "You'll see more dragons in the future."
He hoisted the bulging sack of loot over his shoulder. In a blink, he vanished, leaving only a faint afterimage as he rushed toward Riverwood.
He wasn't worried about Avier running. Even from within town, Rowan's senses could track him with ease. Disobedience would mean death. Simple as that.
Once inside Riverwood, Rowan slowed to a normal pace and headed for the trading post. Every villager he passed stopped and stared.
The reason was obvious.
Gold gleamed through the mouth of the sack he carried. Ancient cups, jeweled ornaments, and polished gemstones caught the sunlight, dazzling anyone nearby.
The bandit leader's bag had been far too small for everything worth taking. Rowan hadn't bothered hiding what spilled out.
The saying about keeping wealth hidden only mattered if you lacked the strength to protect it. Rowan did not have that problem.
If greed led someone to make a foolish move, it would only cost them their life and earn him a little extra coin.
He pushed open the door to the trader.
"It's you. I knew it had to be the Golden Dragon Claw!"
Camilla was sweeping the floor when she looked up. She hadn't been surprised to see Rowan return so soon. In her mind, no real adventurer could reach the bandit watchtower and return in half a day.
She assumed he had gotten scared and come back to cancel the job.
Then she saw him pull the Golden Dragon Claw from a sack overflowing with gold.
Her words died in her throat.
Shock froze her expression.
Lucan immediately leaned over the counter. The moment he saw the claw in Rowan's hand, his eyes widened. Unlike his sister, he recovered quickly. He had never believed Rowan was ordinary.
"Mr. Mercer, this is excellent news," Lucan said, forcing his voice to stay steady. "It seems you completed the task successfully. I'll be happy to pay you what we agreed."
"Check the value of everything," Rowan replied. "I'm selling it all."
He handed over the claw, then upended the sack onto the counter.
Gold goblets and plates clattered across the wood. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds spilled out alongside ornate jewelry from the ancient Nord era. Soul gems gleamed faintly, and several compact enchanted weapons shimmered with lingering magic.
Large, decayed weapons and armor had been discarded. Time eroded enchantments, and bulky relics with faded power weren't worth the trouble.
What remained were small, valuable items. Daggers, rings, circlets, belts, necklaces. All portable. All profitable.
Lucan stared, momentarily speechless.
"These are… ancient Nord relics. This many… did you empty an entire burial complex?"
Rowan shrugged. "More or less. I took most of what was valuable, but there's still plenty left."
Lucan swallowed. As a seasoned merchant, he had seen treasures before. But never in such quantity. Never all at once. And all unmistakably Nordic in style.
Then the implication hit him.
To retrieve the Golden Dragon Claw, Rowan would have gone through Bleak Falls Barrow. Exploring deeper would have been the natural next step.
Bleak Falls Barrow. A massive ruin where countless adventurers vanished without a trace.
And Rowan had walked out unscathed. With this. In less than half a day.
Lucan felt a chill.
This wasn't just an adventurer.
This was someone at the very top.
"If you're interested," Rowan continued, "you can organize people to search the rest. I cleared out the bandits and the draugr. The traps are destroyed too. No danger."
To the townsfolk, it would be a windfall. Hard work, sure, but honest profit. The undead wouldn't recover for months.
Rowan turned away, business finished.