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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Tolfdir cleared his throat, raising his hands to command the attention of the room, while Aerion stood tall beside him, an imposing, golden skinned Adept with a staff ready to show the novices exactly what the gap in power truly looked like.
"Welcome, my aspiring scholars, to today's practical application lecture," Tolfdir's booming, cheerful voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling. "Before we delve into the intricate mechanics of kinetic absorption and magical shielding, I have a rather special announcement. I would like to introduce all of you to the newest addition to our upper academic ranks."
Tolfdir turned, extending a hand proudly toward the towering High Elf standing beside him.
"Without further ado, please welcome your new Adept, Aerion," Tolfdir announced, his voice ringing with genuine pride. "He has formally been granted the authority to advise you, guide your studies, and instruct you on basic spell execution, particularly within the highly volatile school of Destruction."
For a fraction of a second, there was dead silence. And then, the room erupted.
The murmurs began as a low, confused buzz before rapidly escalating into a loud, highly agitated wave of whispers and outright protests. Several of the older apprentices, men and women who had been grinding over dusty tomes and practicing basic cantrips in the freezing courtyards for months even years, looked absolutely livid.
"Three days?" a seasoned Imperial mage hissed to his neighbor, entirely failing to keep his voice down. "He has been here for three days! How is he an Adept?"
"It's pure Thalmor privilege," a Nord apprentice spat, glaring at Aerion's golden skin and immaculate posture. "He probably bought the rank with Daddy's gold, or the Arch-Mage is just terrified of upsetting the Aldmeri Dominion."
"Quiet! All of you, calm yourselves!" Tolfdir barked, his usually cheerful demeanor vanishing, replaced by the stern, absolute authority of a Master Wizard.
The Hall of Elements instantly fell silent again, though the bitter glares remained firmly fixed on the High Elf.
Tolfdir swept his sharp, disappointed gaze across the crowd of students. "I am deeply saddened to hear such petty jealousy from scholars of this institution. Let me make one thing abundantly clear, this decision was not made lightly, nor was it made by me alone."
Tolfdir crossed his arms, defending his new protégé with unyielding conviction. "This promotion was a unanimous decree handed down by the entire senior faculty of the College, signed and authorized by Arch-Mage Savos Aren himself. It was done entirely objectively. Aerion's raw aptitude, his staggering progress over the last seventy two hours, his extensive combat experience, and his humble, dedicated personality toward the arcane arts prove that he is more than deserving of the Adept mantle. He has achieved a level of mastery that many of you are still struggling to grasp."
Despite the Master's firm words, Aerion could see the stubborn disbelief lingering in the eyes of the crowd. They respected Tolfdir, but they needed to see it to believe it. Words were wind, magic was undeniable.
Tolfdir recognized the skepticism as well. He turned to Aerion, an excited, highly pedagogical twinkle returning to his eyes.
"Well, Aerion, it appears a practical demonstration is required to properly settle the matter," Tolfdir said, his voice carrying clearly to the apprentices. "If you would be so kind as to join me in the sparring circle? We shall show them exactly why you earned that golden staff, and simultaneously provide an excellent lesson on the proper usage of Wards in live combat."
"It would be my pleasure, Master Tolfdir," Aerion replied smoothly, stepping forward into the open space between the central well and the students.
He didn't put the heavy, magnificent Golden Staff of Flames into his spatial inventory. He gripped the intricately carved golden shaft firmly in his right hand, the massive ruby at its head glowing with a dormant, terrifying heat. It was a blatant symbol of his newly acquired status, and he intended to wield it.
Tolfdir walked to the opposite end of the circle, rolling up his wide sleeves.
"Observe closely, students!" Tolfdir called out, shifting into a combat stance. "A Ward is not a piece of wood. It requires spatial awareness, constant Magicka flow, and the physical intuition to brace against kinetic impact. Pay attention to Aerion's footwork and his defensive geometry."
"Whenever you are ready, Master," Aerion said calmly. He raised his empty left hand, his fingers curling slightly.
With a thought, he channeled his Magicka into the Alteration matrix. A shimmering, concave dome of translucent blue energy, a Lesser Ward, snapped into existence a few feet in front of his palm, humming with high frequency magical tension.
"Here we go!" Tolfdir shouted.
The elderly master thrust his hands forward. A rapid fire volley of jagged, freezing Ice Spikes tore through the air, shrieking toward Aerion's chest.
Aerion didn't just stand still and take the hit. Showcasing his extensive, lethal combat experience, he pivoted smoothly on his heel.
He angled the blue shield of his Ward perfectly to catch the incoming projectiles, while simultaneously keeping his right side forward, the Golden Staff of Flames leveled directly at Tolfdir's center of mass in a flawless counter offensive posture.
CRACK! CRASH!
The heavy spikes of ice slammed into the magical barrier, instantly shattering into a cloud of harmless, freezing mist. Aerion's arm didn't even tremble under the kinetic impact, his Ward held absolute, unbroken surface tension.
"Excellent structural integrity!" Tolfdir praised mid fight, pacing around the edge of the circle to test Aerion's flanks. "Now, a heavier weave!"
Tolfdir summoned a massive, roaring Fireball and hurled it across the room. The explosive sphere cast wild orange shadows across the stone walls.
Aerion tracked the projectile with cold, golden eyes. He flared his Magicka, instantly feeding more raw power into the Ward just before the moment of impact, thickening the barrier.
BOOM!
The Fireball detonated violently against the Ward, sending a wave of blistering heat washing over the observing apprentices, making them flinch backward. But when the smoke cleared, Aerion was still standing in the exact same spot, utterly unfazed, his golden staff still trained perfectly on the Master, ready to unleash hell if this had been a real fight.
[Restoration (Purify) Leveled Up 3 Times! Current Level: 37]
The system quietly rewarded his flawless execution of restorative shielding in a combat scenario.
The apprentices were absolutely spellbound. The three students he had bumped into, Yrsa, Ravyn, and J'zari, were standing near the front, their eyes wide with sheer awe. They had never seen someone handle Tolfdir's offensive spells with such casual, terrifying grace, let alone someone balancing a heavy destruction staff while doing it.
Tolfdir lowered his hands, letting the residual magic fade from his fingertips. He turned to the silent crowd with a wide, triumphant smile.
"As you can clearly see," Tolfdir announced, the pride evident in his voice, "Adept Aerion's combat awareness and magical stability are flawless. There is no privilege here. Only raw, refined skill."
The protests were completely dead. The bitter whispers of jealousy had evaporated, replaced by the profound, undeniable respect that all Nords and mages held for true martial and arcane power.
"Now that we have settled the matter," Tolfdir clapped his hands together, "it is your turn! Pair up, or step forward to face our new Adept. I want all of you projecting a Lesser Ward. Aerion, if you please, provide them with some controlled offensive pressure. Test their limits. Drain their Magicka so they learn the stamina required for a real duel."
Aerion allowed his Ward to dissipate, lowering his left hand. He raised the Golden Staff of Flames, a charming, pedagogical smile spreading across his face. "With pleasure, Master Tolfdir."
What followed was a grueling, highly interactive lecture session.
The apprentices formed a line, stepping up one by one to project their shimmering blue shields. Aerion paced methodically before them, acting as the ultimate, unforgiving testing mechanism. He would point the golden staff and unleash concentrated, sustained bursts of roaring fire against their Wards.
"Hold the weave tighter, center your breathing," Aerion instructed calmly, walking past a struggling Imperial boy whose Ward was flickering under the heat. "Do not let the flash of the fire distract you. Focus entirely on the anchor point in your palm."
He moved down the line, increasing the thermal pressure. "Brace your back leg! A spell has physical weight when it strikes. If you stand flat footed, you will be knocked over."
While he fired controlled bursts of flame, Aerion utilized the opportunity to cultivate his relationships. He heavily engaged his Persuasion skill, ensuring his tone was never condescending, but rather strict, encouraging, and deeply knowledgeable. He made them feel seen, valued, and pushed to their limits by a superior who genuinely wanted them to succeed.
[Persuasion Leveled Up 3 Times! Current Level: 88]
The psychological shift in the room was palpable. By the time Aerion reached the trio he had met earlier, the atmosphere had completely transformed. The apprentices who had been glaring at him an hour ago were now looking at him with open, star struck admiration.
Yrsa stepped forward, gritting her teeth as she projected her Ward. Aerion unleashed a heavy stream of fire from the staff, the flames splashing harmlessly against her blue shield.
"Excellent structural stability, Yrsa," Aerion praised softly, dropping the fire. "Your Nordic resilience serves you well in maintaining the Magicka draw."
Yrsa dropped the spell, panting slightly, but a massive, proud grin broke across her face. "Thank you, Aerion. That was incredible."
Ravyn and J'zari took their turns, receiving tailored, highly constructive feedback that smoothed over their bruised egos. By the end of the session, the three apprentices weren't just looking at him as a superior Adept, they openly acknowledged him as a friend and a trusted mentor, completely forgetting their earlier hostility.
As the lecture finally wound down and the exhausted, magically drained apprentices began to disperse toward their quarters to rest, Aerion walked back over to Tolfdir.
"An excellent session, Master Tolfdir," Aerion said, leaning the heavy golden staff against his shoulder. "They have great potential."
"They do indeed, and your instruction was invaluable," Tolfdir smiled warmly. "I foresee you becoming a beloved fixture of this faculty, Aerion."
Aerion's smile turned slightly apologetic. "About that, Master Tolfdir. I am afraid I must inform you that I will be leaving the College grounds today."
Tolfdir blinked, his bushy white eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise. "Leaving? Already? But you have just been granted the rank of Adept. The Arcanaeum's advanced sections are entirely open to you."
"And I shall return to utilize them," Aerion assured him smoothly. "But my thirst for knowledge cannot be entirely quenched within the safety of these stone walls. I feel the need to broaden my horizons, to explore the harsh realities of Skyrim, and to test my newly refined skills in the unpredictable crucible of the wilds."
Aerion offered a respectful bow. "It may take a while before I return to Winterhold. However, if there is anyone looking for me, or if you or the Arch-Mage require my specific assistance, you may send a courier to drop off a letter for me at the Bannered Mare Inn, located in Whiterun. I maintain a permanent residence there."
Tolfdir let out a heavy, wistful sigh, though he couldn't hide the fond understanding in his eyes. He had been young and hungry for adventure once, too.
"There is nothing I can do to stop you, my boy. An Adept is free to chart their own course," Tolfdir nodded slowly. "The wilds of Skyrim are unforgiving, and the civil war makes the roads deeply unpredictable. Please, be careful out there."
"I always am, Master Tolfdir," Aerion promised.
With a final exchange of farewells, Aerion left the Hall of Elements. He walked briskly across the magically warmed courtyard, heading straight for the Hall of Attainment.
He climbed the spiral stairs to his second-floor quarters and pushed the door open.
Lupin was exactly where Aerion had left him. The furry glutton had somehow managed to procure half a sweetroll from Oblivion knew where, and was currently sleeping soundly on his back in the center of the fur blanket, his paws twitching lazily in the air, completely oblivious to his master's prestigious promotion.
Aerion chuckled softly, scooping the heavy, sleepy fox into his arms. Lupin let out a soft, grumbling huff of protest but quickly settled against Aerion's warm chest.
Leaving his apprentice quarters behind, Aerion walked out of the College entirely.
He crossed the terrifying, wind whipped stone bridge spanning the Sea of Ghosts. As he approached the final archway leading back into the ruined city of Winterhold, he found Faralda standing at her post, her hands tucked into her robes against the chill.
She looked up as he approached, noting the heavy travel pack he had manifested from his inventory, and the sleepy fox in his arms.
"Leaving us so soon, Aerion?" Faralda asked, her tone laced with mild surprise and a hint of disappointment. "I heard you put on quite the spectacular show in the Hall of Elements."
"The world is wide, Faralda, and there is much for me to see," Aerion replied with a charming smile. "I have already informed Master Tolfdir of my departure and how to reach me should the College require my presence. I simply could not leave without saying goodbye to the woman who first welcomed me to this institution."
Faralda smiled, a genuine, warm expression that she rarely shared. "You are a strange one, Aerion. But a welcome change of pace. Keep your guard up on the roads. The Nords are restless, and Ancano has eyes everywhere."
"I will be careful," Aerion promised, offering a final, polite bow before walking past her.
He descended the steep stone ramp into the miserable, freezing streets of Winterhold. He ignored the glares of the patrolling guards, walking purposefully toward the heavy wooden doors of the Frozen Hearth inn.
Stepping inside, the blast of warm, stale air was a welcome relief from the blizzard. He immediately spotted Jenassa sitting alone at a sturdy table near the hearth fire, finishing off a large wooden bowl of hearty venison stew.
She looked up as he approached, her crimson eyes immediately scanning his posture and his unmarked robes for any signs of injury. She let out a quiet, deeply relieved breath, setting her wooden spoon down.
"Patron," Jenassa greeted him, her gravelly voice tight with lingering concern. "I have not seen or heard from you in three days. I was beginning to fear something terrible had happened to you in that floating fortress. I heard whispers from the locals that there is a high ranking Thalmor agent operating inside the College. I was preparing to breach the gates tonight to find you."
Aerion let out a warm, genuine chuckle, pulling up a chair and taking a seat across from his fiercely loyal bodyguard.
"I appreciate your dedication, Jenassa, truly," Aerion smiled, stroking Lupin's ears as the fox curled up on his lap. "But I assure you, I was perfectly fine. I was merely buried in magical theory and practical examinations. And yes, there is a Thalmor agent within the walls, but he is a pompous fool. I am not afraid of him, nor am I afraid of any mundane threats this province has to offer. The only things that truly concern me are the legends currently waking from their slumber, and the geopolitical fallout of this civil war."
Jenassa analyzed his confident, relaxed demeanor and slowly nodded, accepting his assessment. "If you say so, Patron. What are our orders?"
"Finish your stew," Aerion commanded gently. "We are leaving Winterhold. We ride back to Whiterun immediately."
Jenassa blinked, surprised by the sudden change in location. "Back to the central holds? Why so sudden? Did you not acquire what you sought at the College?"
"I acquired exactly what I sought, and vastly more," Aerion smirked, feeling the immense, crushing weight of the Golden Staff of Flames humming in his spatial void. "But the board is shifting. I want to return to our base of operations and see what has developed in our absence. Furthermore, the road south is littered with ancient ruins and unplundered camps. It is time we did some actual looting."
A cold, vicious smile touched Jenassa's scarred lips at the prospect of violence and gold. "Now that is an objective I can fully understand."
She quickly finished the last of her stew, wiped her mouth, and walked over to the main counter to return her heavy iron room key to Dagur.
Minutes later, they were back out in the freezing wind, mounting their rested horses. Aerion tucked Lupin securely into the fur lined saddlebag. With a sharp click of his tongue, Revan surged forward, and the two riders left the ruined, bitter city of Winterhold behind them.
The ride south through the Pale was just as grueling and treacherous as the ride north had been. They retraced their steps along the snow packed, winding mountain roads, keeping their eyes peeled for frost trolls and desperate bandits.
As the afternoon light began to fail, casting long, purple shadows across the snowdrifts, the welcoming, warm glow of the Nightgate Inn appeared on the horizon.
They stopped for the night. Aerion paid Hadring twenty septims for two secure rooms, enjoying a quiet, uneventful evening by the fire before retiring to rest his newly expanded, highly potent magical core.
The next morning, the blizzard broke, leaving the Pale bathed in stark, brilliant winter sunlight. Aerion and Jenassa mounted their horses early, continuing their long ride south toward the warmer, golden plains of Whiterun.
As they rode down a steep, winding incline, Aerion pulled his system map open in his mind's eye to check their coordinates. A distinct, massive red icon pulsed slightly off the main road to their left.
Aerion pulled Revan's reins, bringing the massive black horse to a halt. He looked out across the core covered valley.
Nestled in a wide, frozen clearing was a massive, crude encampment. A towering bonfire roared in the center, sending a thick pillar of black smoke into the crisp air. Massive, sun bleached mammoth ribcages were arranged like fences, and crude, towering effigies made of painted stone and bone marked the territory.
It was Blizzard Rest. A known, highly dangerous Giant camp.
Aerion could clearly see two towering Giants lumbering around the fire, their massive wooden clubs resting casually over their shoulders. More importantly, grazing peacefully near the edge of the camp, using their massive tusks to scrape the snow away from the frozen tundra grass, were three massive, fully grown mammoths.
Aerion stared at the magnificent beasts, a wildly ambitious, highly lucrative economic plan crystallizing in his mind.
"We are stopping here," Aerion announced, his golden eyes locked on the herd.
Jenassa pulled her horse up beside him, following his gaze. She frowned, her hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of her sword. "A giant camp, Patron? There is no strategic value in engaging them unless they hold a specific bounty target. They hit hard enough to launch a man over the mountains, and their mammoths will trample us into paste."
"The giants are an obstacle, yes," Aerion agreed smoothly. "But I do not care about the giants. I want the mammoths."
Jenassa stared at him for a long, silent moment, entirely unsure if he was joking. "You... want the mammoths. For what purpose?"
"I am going to start a highly lucrative, entirely monopolized dairy and ivory farm," Aerion stated matter of factly, an aristocratic smirk playing on his lips. "Mammoth cheese is considered a rare delicacy in the affluent circles of the Empire, and their tusks fetch an astronomical price from the Khajiit caravans. I intend to purchase the Tundra Homestead property in Whiterun Hold. It has vast, open grazing fields perfectly suited for containing a domesticated herd."
Jenassa let out a slow, deadpan sigh, rubbing her temples. "You want to domesticate towering, prehistoric beasts of war to make cheese."
"Exactly," Aerion smiled. "But to do that, I need to consolidate my assets. I will utilize my unique magical affinities to permanently pacify those three mammoths, separating them from their current masters. Then, we will execute the giants, loot their camp for capital, and march our new, extremely large assets south to Bleakwind Basin, where we will merge them with the existing herd there. There is safety in numbers, after all."
Aerion smoothly dismounted, pulling his dark robes tight against the chill. He looked up at the Dark Elf assassin, his eyes glowing with terrifying, absolute confidence. "Prepare your bow, Jenassa," Aerion commanded softly. "We are going to evict the current landlords."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 350/350 Stamina: 350/350 Magicka: 500/500
Level: 80
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+1)/Lightning/Frost) (Level 23/84/27), Restoration (Healing/Purify) (Level 63/37), Alteration (Level 22), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning) (Level 37/38), Persuasion (Level 88), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 26), One Handed (Level 67), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 23), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 34), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 60), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Steel Dagger of Minor Souls, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Ancient Nord Bow, Dragonstone, Ancient Nord Battleaxe Of Blaze, & Potion of Minor Pickpocketing
2x Iron Mace, Steel Axe, Steel Greatsword, & Lockpicks
3x Iron Greatsword, Steel Sword, Scroll Of Fireball, Glowing Mushrooms, & Potions of Minor Stamina
4x Potions of Minor Magicka & Spider Eggs
5x Lesser Soul Gem
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 109.07 KG / 475 KG
Septims = 52,552