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But what about the other modifications he had installed? Things that didn't give him a direct advantage but altered the world itself. Perhaps there were powerful artifacts, hidden locations, or even helpful NPCs. It was a tantalizing thought, a treasure hunt in a world he already knew by heart.
He could also start grinding his skills. He needed to be more than just a Destruction mage. One handed and Two handed combat skills were essential for survival, and the faster he leveled them, the better. And then there was blacksmithing.
He remembered that Adrianne Avenicci, the blacksmith at Warmaiden's, offered training. Getting a decent set of armor and a sharp, non rusty weapon was high on his priority list.
He needed to start somewhere, and the thought of crafting his own gear was appealing. He could also delve into alchemy, enchanting, or even pickpocketing, though the latter felt a bit too risky for his current situation.
The possibilities spun in his head, each one a different path with its own benefits and dangers. The sheer number of choices was giving him a headache.
"What do you think, Lupin?" he asked, turning his head to look at the fox. "Where should we begin? The forge? The wilds? Or should we just stick to what we know?"
Lupin, as if on cue, let out a series of small, thoughtful yips. He then nudged his nose against Aerion's arm, as if suggesting something.
Aerion nodded seriously, as if in deep contemplation of the fox's wisdom. "You're right," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "It's a lot to think about. We should sleep on it. Tomorrow's problems are for tomorrow."
With that, he settled deeper into the mattress, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Lupin, sensing the decision had been made, snuggled closer, and soon, Aerion was fast asleep, the anxieties of his new life fading into the peace of the inn room.
He awoke to a gentle, wet sensation on his cheek. His eyes fluttered open to the soft light of morning pouring in from the window, and a furry face hovered over his own. It was Lupin, already awake, his tail giving a happy, energetic thump against the mattress. The fox let out a series of excited yips, his tongue delivering another sloppy, affectionate lick to Aerion's face.
"Alright, alright!" Aerion said, pushing the fox gently away. "Lupin, no more of that." He sat up, picked the fox up, and placed him on the floor. "Don't do that again. Please." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic, feeling a faint blush of embarrassment despite being alone.
He stood, stretching his limbs and feeling the aches and pains from his long walk and the short, brutal fight with the bandits. His stomach, seemingly in perfect sync with his awakening body, grumbled loudly.
"Ugh, come on," Aerion complained to himself, rubbing his stomach. "I don't have that many septims left. This traveling thing is expensive." His body, however, was in no mood for complaints. It demanded fuel. With a heavy sigh, he walked over to the door.
He unlocked it, pulling the key from the lock, and then stepped out into the hallway, Lupin padding silently at his heels. He locked the door behind him and put the key into his pocket.
The staircase was a bit quieter this morning. He made his way downstairs, finding the main room of the Bannered Mare much less crowded than it had been last night. Only a few patrons sat at tables, nursing their morning mead or eating a light breakfast. Mikael the bard was still there, but mercifully, he was just polishing his lute, his singing voice silent for the moment.
Aerion walked straight to the counter, where Hulda was already tidying up. "Good morning, Hulda," he said, placing a few coins on the counter. "I'll have the beef stew and a mead, please. I've found it's become a new favorite."
Hulda took the 13 septims, her expression softening slightly. "Aye, a good way to start the day. A heavy meal for a heavy day." She turned and called out, "Saadia! Another order!"
As he waited, Aerion seized the opportunity. "Hulda, you mentioned Jarl Balgruuf keeping Whiterun a safe place. That's a good thing, but it doesn't pay for my meals." He gestured vaguely with his hands. "Do you know of any work a man might find? I've been traveling for quite some time, and my funds are... dwindling."
Hulda paused her cleaning, her brow furrowed in thought. "Work, you say? Well, the Jarl's been looking for someone to take care of a little problem."
She reached under the counter and pulled out a small, rolled up piece of paper, tied with a string. "Several days ago, the guards drop this off. A bounty, to get rid of a troublesome group of bandits down at Halted Stream Camp. The Jarl wants them gone. They've been raiding farms and causing a real ruckus."
She handed the bounty notice to Aerion. "If you're looking for more work like this, you should go up to Dragonsreach and speak to the Jarl's steward, Proventus Avenicci. He's the one who handles most of the official business and bounties."
Aerion took the bounty notice, his eyes scanning the details. Halted Stream Camp. He knew the place. A bandit den, full of leveled enemies and a small boss. A perfect opportunity to put his rapidly developing Destruction magic to the test, and a chance to get a good amount of septims.
"I appreciate this, Hulda," Aerion said, tucking the bounty notice away. "Thank you. I'll think about such a... dangerous idea." He gave her a small, knowing smile. He had no intention of just "thinking" about it. This was exactly what he needed.
Just then, Saadia emerged from the kitchen, a bowl of stew and a tankard of mead in her hands. She set the meal down in front of him with the same graceful efficiency as the night before. "Enjoy," she said, with a nod, and then returned to the kitchen without a second word.
Aerion dug in, his stomach once again in silent, happy agreement with his decision to eat. Lupin sat at his feet, patiently waiting for his morning offering of carrots and potatoes. After finishing his meal and giving Lupin his share, Aerion stood, feeling energized and ready.
"Thank you, Hulda," he said, giving her a small wave. "I'll be back tonight, perhaps."
He and Lupin walked out of the Bannered Mare, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind them. Stepping out into the morning air, Aerion was greeted by the bustling sounds of Whiterun Market.
The stalls, which had been empty and dark last night, were now a hive of activity. Merchants were shouting their wares, customers haggled over prices, and the scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the pungent aroma of spices and mead.
Aerion took a deep breath, the fresh, crisp air filling his lungs. "Alright, Lupin," he said, a new resolve in his voice. "First, we explore. Then, we find that camp. And after that... well, who knows what we'll find."
He had no doubt that his custom mods would manifest in more ways than just skills. It was a whole world of possibilities waiting to be uncovered, and the first step was to see what this city truly had to offer.
Aerion and Lupin descended the stairs from the Bannered Mare, the early morning light casting long shadows across the cobblestones. He turned right, his eyes immediately falling upon the small market stall where an elderly Nord woman sat amongst a glittering array of necklaces, rings, and other finely crafted adornments.
This was Fralia Gray-Mane, the wife of the famed Eorlund Gray-Mane, the only man in Whiterun, and indeed all of Skyrim, who could use the Skyforge to its full potential, other than the Dragonborn of course and he woudk like to add his name there also in the future.
Aerion's mind, ever a repository of game knowledge, immediately connected her to the "Missing in Action" quest. He knew Fralia would eventually ask him to help find her son, Thorald, whom she believed was held captive by the rival Battle-Born clan.
In reality, Thorald was a prisoner of the Thalmor, a grim detail that Aerion now held as a personal secret. This quest was a potential source of a good sum of septims and a powerful artifact in the early game. He made a mental note to check on her later, keeping that possibility in his back pocket as another potential source of income and influence.
He turned right again, passing through the increasingly crowded marketplace. The stalls, now fully open and bustling, were a riot of color and sound. Merchants shouted their wares, bakers offered freshly baked bread, and the rich scent of spices mingled with the earthy smell of fresh produce.
It was a far more lively and expansive market than the one he remembered from the game, a subtle detail that further solidified the idea that his mods had affected more than just his skills.
He made his way past the market and toward the steps leading up to the Wind District. As he ascended, the bustling sounds of the market faded, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves from the Gildergreen, a magnificent, ancient tree that stood majestically in the center of the district.
To his right, the grand hall of Jorrvaskr, home to the legendary Companions, loomed large and ancient. He also saw the Shrine of Talos tucked away beside the path that led to the city's crowning jewel, Dragonsreach.
Aerion took in the size and grandeur of the city. Everything felt larger, more lived in, and more intricate than the version he knew. He decided to explore the residential area to the left of the Gildergreen, passing by the homes of Whiterun's various citizens.
He walked down a few winding paths, observing the small details of daily life, but found nothing that immediately jumped out as one of his mods.
Finding nothing of interest, he turned and headed back down, aiming to return to the Plains District. As he made his way back toward the city's main gate, his eyes were drawn to something behind the blacksmith's forge.
Warmaiden's. Tucked away, almost hidden, were several stacks of chests, each one looking exactly like the wooden chests in the game and one that appeared there in his modded game.
His heart gave a sudden, excited leap. It's a mod! It's actually a mod! he thought, his blood quickening. He had used a mod that added storage chests which added numerous ingredients, weapons, armors, miscellaneous stuffs, books, and lastly septims.
This discovery was a jolt of pure, unadulterated confirmation. His power wasn't limited to his mod skills, his mods had truly warped the very fabric of this reality.
He and Lupin instinctively made their way toward the back of the forge. As they got closer, he saw a familiar figure hard at work. Adrianne Avenicci, the blacksmith of Warmaiden's, was at her forge, a smithing hammer in her hands, its rhythmic clang ringing out across the market.
Around her, a smelter, anvil, workbench, grindstone, and tanning rack were arranged in a familiar and convenient pattern.
Adrianne, concentrating on her work, sensed a presence behind her. She looked up, her hammer pausing mid-swing, her eyes falling on a lanky High Elf and a small, curious fox. She seemed momentarily taken aback, a rare sight in this part of Skyrim, but quickly recovered her professional demeanor.
"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, her voice strong and direct. "Looking to buy or sell some weapons or armor? I've got plenty of both."
Aerion, though internally giddy with the discovery of his mod chests, quickly had to think on his feet. He couldn't just blurt out, "Hey, are those my mod chests you've got there?" That would sound insane. He needed a good cover story, something believable, something that would appeal to the hard working blacksmith.
He shook his head. "No, no, nothing to buy or sell at the moment." He put on his best impression of a curious scholar traveler, a persona that had already proved effective. "I was simply... interested in watching you work. I've always been fascinated by the craft of blacksmithing, but never had the chance to try my hand at such heavy work. It seems like a noble trade."
The lie was a masterful piece of improvisation, and the internal chime of his persuasion skill leveling up instantly confirmed it. A notification, a chime only he could hear, flashed into existence before his eyes.
[Persuasion has increased to Level 15!]
Adrianne, hearing the genuine curiosity in his tone and seeing the awe in his eyes, was completely won over. The subtle hint of flattery didn't hurt either.
"A scholar interested in blacksmithing, eh?" she said, a small smile forming on her lips. "That's a new one. Most folks just want to buy my gear and be on their way." She gestured to the anvil. "Tell you what. It's not as easy as it looks. But if you're so interested, why don't you try your hand at it? I could show you how to make something simple, like an iron dagger."
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 100/100 Stamina: 110/110 Magicka: 180/180 Level: 5
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 15/17), & Persuasion (Level 15)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Pouch = 320 Septims
1x Iron Dagger, Iron Mace, Steel Dagger, & Iron Battleaxe
Weight: 25 KG / 305 KG