It had been just over a month since Baldur had joined the Companions. In that time, he had already been on six different missions.
He had expected less, but with the entire province at war, things escalated quickly—even for the simple quests he was being sent on.
He usually went with a two- or three-person team, sometimes with well-known members from the game and sometimes with others from the dorms.
All in all, he had the backing of a respected group and had made several friends.
Jorrvaskr took a 30% cut from each quest, which left him with just over 54 gold—not including what he already had when he first arrived.
In total, he now owned 70 gold and 53 silver. Baldur had never seen this much money, let alone held it.
Fortunately, the senior members of the Companions had taken a liking to him because of the potential he showed during his first spar at Jorrvaskr, so he received a few unspoken benefits—such as being informed about missions before the others.
He had also been pulled aside by Vilkas and Kodlak. They wanted to know whether he had been in contact with any Daedra."You have a very big stamina pool—certainly more than the average Nord should," they had said.
Baldur simply told the truth: that he had been training since he was young and the benefits were already showing.
He would never mention the system. Not to anyone. Under any circumstance.
"Where do you want me to put the spriggan sap?" Baldur asked the Imperial woman who had been busy at the alchemy table for the past eight minutes.
"Just leave it next to the nightshade. I'll find a place for it later."
Baldur nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and carried the small box over. He began unpacking the containers of spriggan sap. He could swear he heard the woman mumble and sigh about the poor storage situation in the shop.
"Arcadia," Baldur called out, worry clear in his tone, "maybe you should stop for the day. It's already past seven…"
Arcadia stopped grinding the flowers and roots she had in a small bowl.
"You're right. It's just that the Jarl doesn't understand how long it takes to brew so many high-class potions! We just gave him the last batch yesterday, and now he wants more? At this rate, my hands will start—"
Baldur could only rub the back of his head awkwardly as she went on and on about the struggles they were both facing.
He had convinced Arcadia to teach him alchemy in exchange for helping around the shop.
Balgruuf's men had been skirmishing near the border with bandits and soldiers from both sides of the war. As the economic hub of the province, Balgruuf had money to spend on his troops.
This meant every alchemist in Whiterun was overwhelmed with orders—far more than usual, even during wartime.
Baldur had learned how to brew three new potions: minor Restore Stamina, Health, and Magicka.
They weren't particularly valuable, but in battle, any restorative potion could be a lifesaver, and Baldur was determined to stock as many as he could.
His skills had improved as well. With only seven months before canon began, he was trying to push himself as much as possible through training, sparring, and missions.
[Skills Page]
[Swordsmanship: 17 (137/800)
Axemanship: 4 (22/100)
Archery: 12 (389/400)
Battle Instinct: 7 (76/200)
NEW SKILL: Dodging: 5 (46/100)
Senses: 8 (143/200)
Athletics: 22 (277/1200)
Boxing: 9 (169/200)
Acting: 13 (232/400)
Speech: 11 (157/400)
NEW SKILL: Alchemy: 3 (23/100)]
Dodging had finally reached a point where the system considered it valuable enough to record, which was good. Soon he'd be tilting his head to avoid arrows and grinding XP just for existing.
The thought snapped him out of his daze. He turned toward Arcadia and coughed a few times to let her know she had been ranting for over a minute.
"…Anyway, good work today, Baldur. You can have the rest of the day off. I'll take it from here." The middle-aged woman sighed again. She could feel the wrinkles becoming more pronounced as the days went by.
"Are you sure? Let me at least sweep the place before I go."
Baldur walked into the back room where a new broom and dustpan awaited him.
'New brooms and their new sounds… peak broom experience.'
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Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Three iron arrows pierced the training dummy's head, all of them in a straight vertical line.
"Good job, Baldur. You're getting better," Aela said. She stood close, occasionally correcting his form and posture.
It had been an hour since he left Arcadia's shop. Now he and Aela were out on the training grounds—him practicing, her teaching.
It continued until late at night, when Vilkas, tired of the constant noise, stepped outside to see what the ruckus was about.
"You know, most people prefer to train in the morning instead of late at night…"
He narrowed his eyes, irritation clear, and crossed his arms.
"Well, you can't judge us by the same standards as everyone else, can you?" Aela shot him a knowing smile—one Baldur understood even if he wasn't supposed to.
"Right. Maybe one day, Erikson, but certainly not anytime soon."
Vilkas shot Aela a warning glare, and Baldur took the opportunity to escape the awkwardness.
"Well, as much as I want to keep practicing, Vilkas does have a point. Farkas said I'd be there to welcome Skjor back from the Rift, so… I'll see you both in the morning."
[Archery: 13 (3/400)]
He waved, gathered his arrows, and headed into Jorrvaskr—down into the large underground hallways and dorms beneath the mead hall.
"Heyyy, look who's back! Anything interesting happen today, Baldur?"
Torvar, drunk as always, slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him deeper into the dormitory.
"Sigh… Leave the poor boy alone, Torvar. Azura knows he needs the rest after Aela's training."
Athis, one of the few Dunmer, smiled and teased him, pulling Torvar away as the others laughed.
Baldur grinned, shooting Athis a grateful look, then greeted a few friends before collapsing onto his bunk.
"Mara knows I'm too handsome, so she sent Aela to humble me!" he declared as he rolled onto his side.
That earned him more laughter and a few mocking jabs.
Before first light touched Jorrvaskr's windows, Baldur and several others were already training. Some were running laps; others were sparring—like he was with Njada, one of the fiercest women he had met.
Njada Stonearm was a prodigy with a shield. No matter how many times Baldur swung his wooden sword, she blocked or parried it effortlessly.
"I doubt you can keep that shield up for long, Stonearm. You can't have much stamina left!"
He struck her shield again and again. He had stamina most warriors wouldn't reach until they were famous in their holds, and he knew Njada couldn't match him there.
"And you've been fighting without that acrobatics you're known for. Maybe it's time we take this seriously!" she snapped.
His mocking tone only seemed to make her angrier.
"Well… you asked for it, lady," he muttered, relaxing his stance.
She lunged with a shield bash, but he sidestepped with the grace of a monkey. His wooden sword tapped her side, making her wince and retreat.
"You shouldn't have let your anger get the best of you, Njada. Look where it got you," he teased.
Njada snarled and advanced, shield raised.
Baldur swung wide, baiting the bash.
"Got you now, Baldur!" she shouted as her shield slammed his arm. His sword arm lifted, almost throwing him off balance—but only almost.
Still reveling in that moment of victory, she didn't expect the kick.
Baldur's foot drove into her unguarded midsection.
She flew back, landing with a loud thud that made everyone nearby stop and stare.
'Maybe I should use less force next time… That did look rough.'
Baldur nodded to the others and rushed to Njada, worried he had overdone it.
"You okay? I did kick you pretty hard—not to mention the sword hit."
He offered his hand. Njada, groaning but conscious, took it and got up.
"You've got one hell of a kick, Erikson. Color me impressed!" she said, almost cheerful.
"You're not mad? I did kick you pretty hard."
"Please, Baldur. I'm a warrior, not some milk-drinker. I was wrong about you. You can fight."
Baldur smiled, embarrassed but relieved. They exchanged pointers—footwork, shield angles—and the conversation flowed easily.
Njada, Baldur, and a few others gathered behind the Circle members as they waited for Vilkas to bring in Skjor. He'd been in the Rift on a mission Kodlak assigned him.
'Probably something to do with the Silver Hand', Baldur guessed. None of the Circle wanted to say anything.
"Everybody, I'm home!"
A booming voice echoed in the hall as the doors swung open. Skjor strode in wearing his wolf armor, with an irritated Vilkas behind him.
Everyone greeted him in turn. Kodlak seemed especially proud, embracing him in what Baldur could only describe as the manliest hug he had ever seen.
When things settled, Skjor turned toward Baldur. His lips curled in approval before he went back to Kodlak and whispered something. Kodlak narrowed his eyes and sighed.
Taking it as approval, Skjor called out:
"Baldur! I've been told you have the strength of a troll and the agility of a sabre cat. Care to test whether I've been lied to?"
A grin spread across his face.
Baldur cursed internally but agreed. The duel was set for dawn—Skjor needed rest first.
'Good thing I haven't been slacking this past month. But what is it with these people and fighting? God damn…'
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(A/N: That's a wrap for today. Nothing major yet, but when canon starts, things are going to pick up.)