Essentially, I have no way to ship my goods by sea without getting tied up in a mountain of bullshit. So, why not just make my own port? It'd only need to be small enough for my own ships, and I doubt Korir is going to complain about Winterhold regaining a naval presence if it comes to that.
The ice is a problem further out, but I've got a few ideas about that. If nothing else, it'd be really fun to build my own ship. Since I gained [Artificer], I've felt a damn-near itch to work on new, bigger projects all the time. It's almost as good as sex. With everything I've learnt, I think I could make something truly amazing if I had a proper port to work from.
Of course, the second I do, the Stormcloaks and Imperials are going to be breathing down my neck because that would make the port into a true strategic asset. Ranni was very blunt about that, but I already knew that much. The more I build up Chillbloom, the more tempting a prize it becomes.
Windhelm really isn't that far, and Winterhold is technically supporting Ulfric. The only reason he hasn't come around asking for more support is because he knows better than to bother the College and because the Stormcloaks don't think Winterhold has anything worth asking for. When that changes? I doubt the current apathy toward Winterhold will remain the same.
The war affects the entirety of Skyrim, and it's only a matter of time until it reaches Winterhold, and my farm, in full force. I know I'm hastening that along, but I won't let fear paralyse me. The biggest advantage we have at the moment is the season. Nobody wants to war in northern Skyrim during the winter. There'll be few major battles this far north because the cold would take more men than steel. But spring?
Spring is a good season for war.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, I talk with Aela about Whiterun and what being a Companion is like. When I didn't have hair on my chest or chin, I wanted to be a Companion, every young boy in Skyrim does at some point, but it was never to be. That life isn't for me, far too hectic and unpredictable. Doesn't mean I don't like hearing her stories, though.
– Later –
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. In the end, I've only got myself to blame for this.
"That's your price?" Korir asks, a frown on his face as he glances at me. Aela simply nods, arms crossed and her casual expression faded for a more serious one now that we're talking business. Ciri isn't even involved in this, since she's new blood.
"It is. Two bags of holding, and two Chocobos, and the Companions will clear out Fort Kastav," Aela offers, making Korir frown again. He doesn't know the price of either of those things.
"The Bags of Holding take fairly expensive materials to make, but I can supply them. The Chocobos are another matter. I only have so many and they're only just starting to breed," I reply after a moment. Ciri wasn't just good advertising, she was too damn good.
"You'd be asking for too much if you asked for two horses and two fine, non-magical, bags, Companion," Korir points out, well aware of how much she's asking for.
"I scouted out the Fort. There are well over two dozen necromancers and conjurers currently within. Not mentioning their undead or summons," Aela retorts. "I'll admit, I don't know the price of either of the two things, but that's the price for risking my shield sisters in clearing the place."
"I said I'd pay them, but frankly, I don't know if I could afford that, or what they're worth to begin with," Korir finally admits, looking to me for my opinion. After a moment, I nod.
"It could work, on the condition that you take a pair of males. Ciri's is female, but I can't afford to give away any more girls so early. I'll loan them to the Companions for one year," I say, making Aela pause before she nods. "The Bags I can do. I have the parts left over from making Ciri's. Jarl Korir, I'll foot the bill in exchange for the rights to Alftand. It's in Winterhold, and frankly, I've already started looting the place after Ciri and I cleared it, but dwemer ruins are always questionable when it comes to ownership."
"Alftand? You must be mad, but then I already knew that," Korir jokes, even as he frowns thoughtfully. "Aye, you can have the place. I wouldn't send my men into there even if I wanted to plunder a dwemer ruin filled with traps, their metal guardians and falmer. Place has been picked over countless times anyway."
I see a moment of realisation on Aela's face, and realise she knows about Blackreach, my true prize. Still, she schools it almost immediately as we iron out the details. Again, he loses nothing but something he was never going to use, while I gain something invaluable.
I've just bought the largest piece of land in Skyrim for two bags and two overgrown chickens.
Feat Achieved: Become the legal owner of Blackreach, 200cp granted. 300cp total.
[Wellspring] - 200cp, 100cp remaining
Source: MtG - Shandalar
The natural world is a world of untamed competition, of wild power, and perhaps more than any other: a world of life. Green mages know this principle well, and now you too have mastered the ebb and flow of vitality. Your efforts at mending wounds through regeneration or infusions of raw life force are vastly easier and more effective, and you have even learned how to bring forth new life and awareness from the world around you, such as transforming soil into mighty elementals or animating entire forests into armies of bark and wood.
At this point, I'm used to influxes of knowledge and power, but it's still a little disorienting. Green magic, huh? I'll need to talk to Ranni about this, but something tells me this will be very useful for the farm.
I wonder… I have all the Chi from my [Iron Fist] and no real use for it. I wonder if I could use this living energy to empower my Green Magic? Well, I know what I'm doing when I get home.
[Primarch Mentality] - Free, 100cp remaining
Source: Horus Heresy: The Primarchs
Your mind is every bit as honed as your body. Your towering intellect would be considered genius among the greatest of men, though naturally inferior to the Emperor Himself. At the least, you have perfect eidetic memory (though there are ways to make you forget) and can memorise vast quantities of information far faster than any living human has or ever will. Furthermore, all Primarchs seem remarkably resistant to Chaos corruption and possession; short of directly clutching a Daemon weapon, being wounded by a specific weapon meant to corrupt you personally, or willingly letting the power of Chaos into you, you do not fear the gradual insanity and corruption into darkness lesser men might face. A Primarch naturally has the kind of towering willpower to resist Chaos in general; even the Ruinous Powers must put some serious effort and elaborate plans into luring one over to their side.
The fuck is a Primarch? The fuck is Chaos? Eh, whatever. Being smarter is never going to be a bad thing. At the end of the day, this is just going to make my tinkering even easier, as well as the logistics of my growing trade. Already I can see… inefficiencies I can iron out.
[Gem Mine] - 100cp, 0cp remaining
Source: Valkyrie Crusade
A few shiny gems can go a long way. These basic mines are chock-full of gems and crystals just waiting to be harvested. Some of the gems mined might even be slightly magical, having been infused with magic from the atmosphere. These mines will replenish each month.
And into the Blackreach you go, Gem Mine. Time to make a dozen more golems to ensure that I get the full yield out of it each month. Septims shouldn't be a problem any time soon, but this is something I'm going to have to keep under very careful wraps. A magical mine that refills with gems and crystals is the kind of thing wars are fought over.
Suddenly, I'm thankful for [Primarch Mentality] because I don't think I'd have been quite as subtle about it otherwise.
In the end, the contract is arranged and my latest deed falls into my hands. Aela doesn't waste time, heading straight for the fort as I wish them luck. A part of me thinks I should go with them, but after a moment I shake my head and focus on my work.
They're all strong warriors; they don't need a farmer worrying over them. I've equipped Ciri well, and I can't just give away my armour and weapons to people I barely know. The moment I actually get into the weapons trade, my peaceful days come to a swift end.
And I don't have time for that. I've got roads to pave and a farm to run.
– Danica Pure-Spring –
As Jorgen returned, she felt herself barely strangle a gasp at the way he radiated the same natural energy that she could feel from the Weirwood trees. Now, it was coming from him directly, a soothing presence that made the very land around him react.
She could barely feel it, but with each step, he saturated that blessing into the land itself. In truth, it shamed her to know that he was so much more attuned than her to the Goddess she had dedicated her entire life to serving, and it made her wonder what she was doing wrong.
In true Jorgen fashion, he barely returned to the house long enough to change clothes before heading out, something about the Kelbi being relocated. She followed, explaining that she wanted to see him work, and Jorgen simply shrugged and went about his day without a care.
He made no attempt to hide what he was doing as the sensation expanded and pulsed from his immobile form in the centre of the pen. The grass grew rapidly, far more lush than any plant life this far north had any right to be. The Kelbi were guided in by Sudi, lured by their favourite food and rapidly distracted by their new enclosure as Jorgen calmly meditated in the centre. She could feel the blessing of Kynareth spreading out from him and becoming a part of the entire enclosure.
Jorgen rose, closing the enclosure as he watched the Kelbi frolic for a short while, chatting with Sudi about how this new enclosure would change Kelbi care. Then, he moved onto the fields and repeated the entire process again, spreading his blessing to the already abundant fields, the crops growing larger as the land became increasingly fertile. All her training, and for what? Jorgen was, by his own admission, only a casual follower of the Nine; he paid them their respects but didn't have time for devotion. So why did Kynareth adore him so?
And yet, was this not worship? He worked the lands every day, caring for both plant and animal, and how could she call him anything but devoted to this life he had chosen?
She didn't know if he was truly blessed by all the Nine, as Keeper Carcette believed, but she could not deny that the power of Kynareth was clearly with him. This was a blessing on a scale she'd never heard of, not even from the stories of the Knights of the Nine.
"Something the matter, Danica?" Jorgen asked, noticing her expression as she shook herself out of it.
"Can you teach me?" Danica asked, putting her ego aside. She had been on this path for many years, and yet could she truly say she knew anything? Chillbloom existed to humble those who thought they knew all, and she felt like an acolyte all over again.
Jorgen paused, and for a moment, she believed he'd refuse and hoard his secrets.
"I rise with the sun. Can you get up that early?" Jorgen asked simply, making her let out a laugh.
"Before I arrived here, probably not. After spending each night in the hot spring, I believe I can," Danica admitted.
"Then I can. I think. Never tried to teach before, but you're attuned to the green as well, so you should be able to do what I do. Still, don't you need to get back to Whiterun?" Jorgen asked, making her pause.
"My duty to the city is second to my duty to the Gods. They can survive without me," Danica said, a hint of guilt stabbing into her chest. With the war, there was more need for healing than ever, and she was the best in Whiterun. Jorgen simply paused before nodding.
"Be up when I make my rounds tomorrow. I only have so many hours in the day," Jorgen ordered, and she simply nodded in response. It was already late, so she said her goodbyes. She still had no idea what made Jorgen so special, but his power could not be denied. If she truly wanted to bring herself closer to her Goddess, then her place was with him, learning at his feet.
– Kynareth/Kyne –
She had no idea what made Jorgen so special.
It was an amusing feeling, to be divine and yet so blind. His powers came from a source that was beyond her sight, beyond Mundus. And yet, not knowing did not mean it could not be used. Her power, limited on the mortal plane, had reacted when he first planted those trees. As he had, she'd gained more power, more influence, around the lands of Chillbloom.
She did nothing with it, of course. Jorgen himself had ascended himself, in a small way. He had become a part of the land itself, effectively an Ehlnofey or Earthbones. His farm was his domain, and his very soul was bound to it. She would not intrude in another's domain.
Not least of which because it would draw the eye of all her kin, Aedra and Daedra alike, if she were to openly begin to act on the mortal plane. She knew Zenithar was also watching the events of Chillbloom very carefully, and she sought to shield Chillbloom from wandering eyes. That was until Jorgen had unknowingly welcomed a problem into his domain. Aela was not malicious; she meant no harm to Chillbloom, but the one grasping her soul was not so innocent. Hircine may be the least problematic of the Daedric Princes, but that did not make him harmless.
And if Hircine knew, the others would soon learn. She should assume that Mora already did. His tendrils seemed to reach everywhere. Divine eyes were turning to Jorgen, and she found this distasteful.
At the risk of sounding petty and childish, two things that no God would ever be, of course, she'd seen him first. She liked Chillbloom, and she did not want to see it engulfed in a divine tug of war.
Or maybe she just didn't want to share her new trees.
As Danica wondered whether she was doing the right thing, Kynareth sent down a feeling of soothing to her devoted priestess. If Danica prayed at the Weirwoods, Kynareth could even speak to her, but for now, she had silenced her tongue. Very little good came from mortals hearing the voices of the Gods. Danica, for all her faith, was not prepared for such an oracle. She had her own struggles, and Kynareth did not wish to add to them.
For now, she'd do what she could to delay the inevitable. She felt no guilt over inconveniencing Hircine. How many wondrous species had gone extinct because he'd called a hunt for them? She already knew he'd be salivating to send his hunters after Barioth, Quematrice and Nerscylla. Each of them, a predator, each of them prey if he had his way.
She'd never thought she'd be thankful for Alduin's return, but the brat of a dragon was a good distraction, sending waves through the mortal and divine realms alike. She hadn't seen the world so alive since the time of the Oblivion Crisis.
As she planned, a truly absurd thought occurred to her. The Hero of Kvatch had led the Knights of the Nine, a Crusader in their name. That Hero had gone on to become the Madgod herself, but… her oaths had been 'until death', and Sheogorath hadn't died.
It was madness to think that Sheogorath would still respect the oaths she'd made as a mortal, but… madness was her speciality.
— Bonus Scene — Brelyna Maryon
The College had a new… student? Or was she a professor? In truth, even the other Professors didn't seem entirely sure, but what they knew was that Ancano had vanished and now a strange living doll had taken his place.
And yet, Lady Ranni was more likeable despite being made of cold unliving material. What Ranni was made of, why she was here, how she'd put her soul into this four-armed doll. This was the talk of the College of late. In truth, as a mage of the House Telvanni, she had just shrugged and assumed that a very powerful mage had done something bizarre and inexplicable again. The stories she'd heard made Ranni a four on the impossible scale.
Each of the Great Houses of Morrowind had a dozen mages who had done something weirder. Maybe that was why Arch-Mage Aren was so willing to just shrug off her weirdness and welcome her into the College. Mirabelle seemed far more worried, given that she actually ran things while Aren focused on his experiments, but frankly, Ranni had rapidly proven that she was likely stronger than everyone else and confronting her wasn't something anyone was willing to do directly. Well, except J'zargo who had challenged her to a duel. It went about as well as expected.
She wondered how long it would take for him not to run out of the library when Ranni arrived. Last time she'd seen them in the same room, J'zargo was hiding under a desk, hoping she hadn't seen him. She had. She just didn't care.
But while the rest of the College wondered who and what Lady Ranni was, Brelyna's thoughts were elsewhere. She'd heard a little about Chillbloom, specifically in history books detailing the College's past and Winterhold before it had fallen to pieces, but she'd not given it much thought… and yet, right now there was a Nord of questionable magical training growing a seemingly endless supply of food in a piece of land that should be nothing more than a frozen, lifeless wasteland.
Even the College had bought his goods from the general trader, leading to the quality of the food taking a sharp increase. That wasn't even mentioning the way the vegetables had magic infused in them, enabling much easier spellcasting after consumption.
But that, as interesting as it was, wasn't her focus. Someone was growing food where it should be nearly impossible.
Morrowind had never recovered from the Red Mountain's eruption, and she'd heard people say that settling the ash-covered land was 'practically impossible' and most people who brought up farming would be laughed at. And yet, one only needed to look at the road to see the advancements Jorgen was making.
Could Jorgen, or more importantly, she, learn to resettle the vast amounts of lost territory in Morrowind? If she could bring back such a technique, it would guarantee House Telvanni's dominance over the entire region and her own rise to power.
Any Dunmer who could restore her homeland would be hailed as a hero on a level that would make even Saint Jiub seem irrelevant. People said it was impossible, but Chillbloom seemed to do the impossible every single day.
And so…
"Lady Ranni, do you mind if I join you?" Brelyna asked, making the blue-skinned doll look up, her massive, fluffy hat lifting just enough to show her lower face, a veritable mountain of books around her as she sat in her little section of the Arcanaeum.
"Doest as thou wisheth."
Author's Note: "Get the fuck away from my trees, reeeeeeeeee" - Kynareth, noble and wise Goddess.
Marethyu's Note: You can tell that she's noble and wise because of the way that she is.
Written: 02/07/2025
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