Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Marethyu, Beans, Mike God of Lore
The Celestial Farmer
Chapter 03: Ciri
– Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon (Ciri) –
Waking up, she took a moment to thank whatever deity was looking out for her since she hadn't been expecting to wake up at all. Her side didn't hurt as much, and she was lying in a warm bed instead of the frozen outdoors. As she rose, she touched her side and paused as she looked down at her bandaged body.
Her top had been removed, but she could spot it neatly folded on a nearby table, right next to her sword. Whoever had bandaged her wound wasn't worried about leaving her weapon so close at hand. Removing her bandage, she examined her wound with a frown. It was mostly healed already, but that didn't tell her much. She'd always healed faster than most. An empty bottle on the side got her attention, but she didn't know enough about potions to identify what had once been in it.
Donning her top and her sword, she sheathed it as she headed for the door. The house she was in was large but cosy, and from the window, she could see the farm she'd spotted in the distance before the Hunt had caught up with her. Figures moved around the busy farm, strange creatures being kept in spacious pens drawing her eye. They looked somewhat monstrous, but they were clearly tame.
Gathering her wits, she left the house and went to get the attention of one of the workers before she paused. The golem looked at her with a featureless face before it simply went back to whatever it was doing.
A mage's farm? The idea made her lips twitch, imagining Yen working the fields. The mages she knew weren't so open to manual labour, but then she was in another world. It would hardly be the strangest thing she'd seen.
"They're not much for conversation," someone said, a gruff male voice drawing her gaze. Carrying a large bag of feed, the blonde-haired man was all muscle as he moved to the pen of the large woolly creatures.
"Golems, right?" Ciri asked, making him nod as he poured the feed out into the large trough. "Who made them?"
"I did," he said, making her briefly pause. His muscles weren't what she'd expect from a wizard. "Glad to see you're up. Didn't know what to think when Barioth led me to you. You almost froze to death out there, if you didn't bleed out first."
As he spoke, a white shadow dashed into view behind him, leaping over the pen to land beside him. The massive draconic cat stared at her with curious but warning eyes. Her Witcher training said to draw her blade, but common sense told her to stay very still and not agitate the clear apex predator.
"So I have you to thank for looking after me?" Ciri asked, making him nod again.
"Yup. Barioth found you and killed those weird elves that you were fighting, but I've looked after you since. Been about a day. I managed to brew up a healing potion for you, but I guess you needed the sleep," he replied, half-focused on her as he did his farm chores. Not a witcher potion, obviously. "Name's Jorgen and this is Chillbloom Farm."
"Ciri, and thank you, Jorgen," Ciri said with a slight bow, getting a grunt and a nod from the somewhat older man. The beard added years, but she would guess he was in his twenties. Maybe mid-twenties, so only a couple of years older than her. "I suppose you have questions?"
"A few," Jorgen agreed simply. "The elves?"
"They're a group called the Wild Hunt, and they've been after me for most of my life," Ciri admitted. "They almost caught me. My unique power lets me travel much easier, but they managed to find a way to track me."
Well, they'd had a way. What would happen now that the Navigator was dead was a different question entirely. Caranthir had always been their best at tracking her down. Centuries of careful eugenics only to be eaten by a giant frost cat.
"Wild Hunt? Well, I'm just glad they weren't Thalmor. Travel, huh?" Jorgen asked, putting the feedbag down and leaning against the fence. "They weren't any kind of Mer I'd ever seen. Something tells me you travelled from further than one of the other provinces."
Ciri paused, hesitant to admit the truth as his intense blue eyes drilled into her, but then he scoffed.
"Well, it's none of my business where you came from. I got rid of the bodies. Should I be expecting more of these Wild Hunt to come knocking?" Jorgen asked, and she paused.
"Not if I don't use my powers, I think. Caranthir was the one tracking me, and your… pet ripped off his head and ate it," Ciri admitted, making him nod as he stroked Barioth's fur.
"And what are you going to do now?" Jorgen asked, and Ciri had to stop and think for a moment.
"I don't know. Does this place have many monsters?" Ciri asked, making him laugh. If she was right, the Hunt had no way to know she was here. Caranthir's arrogance had cost them. Once again, she found herself in a strange new world that she had to lay low in. If she didn't call on her Elder Blood, it could take them months to find her, at the very least. They had other Navigators but none of them had Caranthir's skills.
"Take a trip out of the farm, and I doubt you'll make it anywhere without running into a troll or ice wraith," Jorgen admitted. "Barioth is one of a kind, but there's no end of danger out there. Why do I get a feeling you aren't asking out of caution?"
"I was trained as a monster hunter back home. You know, travelling the world and taking care of threats for coin," Ciri admitted.
"Hm. Sounds like the Companions or the Fighter's Guild if you head south to Cyrodiil," Jorgen explained. "Still, you've been on your feet for an hour at the most. I'm sure you know what you're doing, but rest a little before you go off to hunt monsters. You're welcome to stay on Chillbloom and recover your strength."
"Much appreciated," Ciri said, giving him a grin. Despite her recent brush with death, she felt great. The Hunt had lost their best elder bloodhound, she'd survived and once again, she had a new world to explore. "So, what's to do around here?"
Jorgen snorted at that, a grin on his face.
"We're in the ass end of the Winterhold. The town of Winterhold itself isn't too far away, but beyond the inn, there's nothing to do there either. Dawnstar is to the west, the closest thing we have to civilisation this far north," Jorgen admitted. "Aside from that? There's farming, and that's about it."
"How do you farm out here? I might be new here, but even I can tell that we're in the mountains," Ciri asked, looking around as she took in the strangeness of the farm. The farm itself was far warmer than the tundra she'd appeared in, despite how close she'd been.
"Skill, stubbornness, and just a little magic," Jorgen explained proudly. "Times past, the mages of Winterhold College enchanted the ground to allow it to be farmed throughout the year, no matter the weather. Now, I do it myself with my pillars heating the area up."
Jorgen was strange, but in the best way. As she chatted with him, joining him on his work, she learnt more about both her host and the land she'd found herself in. Skyrim was a cold, brutal place currently caught up in a civil war, but that was hardly enough to deter her.
The Thalmor put her on edge, from his descriptions of them. Still, it didn't seem like Jorgen himself had any interest in the war beyond the fact that his farm was in territory currently controlled by the Stormcloaks.
Jorgen himself was open and honest with the fact that he hadn't ever studied magic, explaining that the magical knowledge just came to him, which was apparently strange even for this world. Even the potion he'd made for her, he attributed to his 'Artificer' knowledge rather than any studied skill in alchemy.
Somewhere, far from here, she could hear Philippa shouting, 'It doesn't work like that'. Jorgen was the opposite of what she'd come to expect from a mage, and even all of his magic seemed to be aimed at improving his farm rather than any political ambitions like so many of the mages back home.
Somehow, she thought things would just go easier for everyone if every mage were interested in farming instead of politics. The image of Eilhart working a farm brought a grin to her face.
Barioth followed them around, never taking its eyes off her, but the large monster cat allowed her to stroke its chilly fur. It definitely saw her as a threat to Jorgen, but as the day passed, Barioth seemed to calm down a little. She did learn that Barioth had eaten the bodies of the Wild Hunt warriors, which was one way of getting rid of the evidence. Learning that the all-powerful golden child, Caranthir, had ended up as nothing more than a chew toy for an overgrown lizard cat put a smile on her face.
Jorgen had a few books and a map in his house, and she'd learnt more of her surroundings. She had to admit that she was drawn to the idea of the Companions, and Whiterun wasn't that far from here, especially if she caught a carriage from Dawnstar like he suggested, but he was right. She should recover and let her side fully heal before she ran off.
She didn't bring up the fact that she'd woken up topless, even if she was tempted to tease Jorgen. Her wound had been cleaned and dressed, and she didn't wear a bra so it was unavoidable that he'd gotten an eyeful. Jorgen seemed like a good man, so she doubted he'd taken any liberties while she'd been out of it.
– Jorgen –
Ciri is an odd one, but she seems like a good person. Despite being wounded, she was quick to try and help as I went through my daily tasks. I told her to sit her ass back down. My mom would come back just to tan my ass if I let an injured guest work.
100cp granted. 100cp total.
Feat Achieved: Have Ciri join Chillbloom Farm (100cp), 200cp total.
Huh. Well, I wouldn't go that far, but she does seem to be sticking around for a while. She's very clearly from somewhere far away from here because she didn't even know the province names. She's smart and clearly educated, but even things like the common races are alien to her.
Moving today's collection of Mosswine, Kelbi and Popo meat into the cellar, I nod as I go over my inventory. I've made a new room under the storehouse, which is far colder than even the natural weather around here. I need a way to preserve my growing stockpile, after all. The freezing room keeps it all magically frozen and ready to be dethawed when I need it.
My golems have also found iron veins in the mountains, so I've set them to start mining. I'll need a way to smelt ingots soon because the growing piles of iron ore are just taking up space for now. With the golems and my own Artificing knowledge, I can safely expand the underground storerooms, but I'd rather not have entire storerooms full of stuff I can't use. I've got the product, but no way to sell it. Some blacksmiths would buy the ore directly, but I don't have any contacts with them yet.
I've also been using the fact that the Dwarven Brew replenishes to make barrels of the stuff to sell. I'm heading into Winterhold soon to talk to the owners of the Frozen Hearth and Birna's Oddments, so I'll take some with me to trade.
[Jichinsai] - 200cp, 0cp remaining.
Source: Golden Sky Stories
The Jichinsai is a human ritual to call the guardian spirit into the area – but the humans never realised that the guardian spirit was probably there all along. As a guardian spirit, you can claim a territory as your own, up to the size of a small village. This is your domain to protect, and once you decide on one, you can't change it until a substantial amount of time has passed.
Within your domain, your rate of recovery for all resources, such as health or magic, improves dramatically, and you gain the respect of those who enter the domain. However, that isn't the point of being a guardian spirit – you defend this area, and as such, it will flourish under your stewardship. For as long as you mark a domain as yours and protect it, all life will grow vibrantly within it.
It goes without saying that my 'domain' is my farm. For a moment, I wonder what this changes. I'm technically a guardian spirit now, after all. Then I shrug. I didn't become a ghost, so does it really change anything?
I can feel my domain, sensing all the golems and the livestock, even each individual crop, but it doesn't tell me anything I didn't already know. This was already my domain, even if this new power has bound me to it tighter than before.
As night falls, I send out my golems once more. Winter is rapidly approaching, and the nights are getting colder. The bandits will have found a place to hole up for the winter by now, if they are just camping out then they'll freeze to death, Nords or not. One by one, I'm crossing off caves and other potential hiding places around the area.
But I'm not overly worried about them getting away.
They'll need food for the winter, and there's a functioning farm nearby that they've already raided once. Bandits aren't smart, and I'm willing to bet that when word starts to spread from Winterhold, they'll come looking for easy prey.
It's why I have Barioth hide most of the time. Nobody would try to raid a farm guarded by such a large beast. It's not worth the risk. But if they think I'm just a single guy with some useless golems that anyone with a weapon can beat? They'll come back for seconds.
And I swear by the Nine and the Old Ways, they'll bite off far more than they can chew.
– Ciri – Days Later –
As her wound healed and she gathered more information on the land she had found herself in, she fell into a comfortable rhythm on Chillbloom Farm. Jorgen was a very simple man despite his unusual life.
He woke up before the sun to set out and handle his work for the day. With his golems, most of his work was of the administrative kind. He had farming down to an art form, having a sixth sense for plants or animals that required his direct attention as he made his inspections. By midday, his work was usually already finished, and he moved on to his research.
He'd explained that most of the plants that grew on the farm were 'spiritual' and held power. Honestly, she could tell. Even being near some of them sent pleasant shivers through her body. While his powers had given him magical knowledge, he didn't really know anything about the uses of the plants he was growing.
So, he spent his nights experimenting in the little workshop he'd set up. He'd explained that he still needed to order in a lot of parts to truly get his experiments going, but he could do some basic tests.
It was interesting to know that Alchemy was far more common in this world. Tamriel had access to potions that did just as much as Witcher potions (and more) without being extremely poisonous. It wasn't a common art, but it wasn't strange for most cities to have an alchemy store that sold all manner of potions and ingredients.
A part of her wondered if she should head to the College of Winterhold, given that the best place to study magic in this province was right next door, but she'd decided against it. Despite it being the town that was closest to his farm, Jorgen had little good to say about Winterhold. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but he was a pragmatic person and didn't try to sugarcoat things.
Sitting on the back of the Popo, she watched the remnant of a once-great town come into sight. Jorgen was going into town to talk to two potential customers, and she'd decided to come along for the ride.
The Popo easily pulled the cart that she'd watched Jorgen craft, his goods on the back. Popo were possibly her favourite of the many creatures that Jorgen had on his farm. It was nice to face a creature that was so much bigger than her and not have it want to eat her, as Popo were very gentle and calm beasts.
He had goats and Horkers as well, but the Horkers were still being domesticated and would try to kill her if she got close. The goats were just goats and would headbutt her for fun. The Kelbi were nice, and the Mosswine were… weird. The giant pigs were kept not just for their meat but for the mushrooms that grew on their backs.
Finally, the chickens… Jorgen called them Spirit-tailed chickens and she'd quickly grown to hate them after she tried to help him out by feeding them. He could have warned her that they could move at speeds no fowl should be able to reach and spit fire. They permitted Jorgen inside their pen and didn't try to escape, but the moment she'd stepped into it, she'd been beset on all sides by fire-breathing chickens. Uncle Vesemir would never let her live it down if he heard.
She was about ready to put a Witcher contract out on the bastard chickens herself, but their eggs were too damn good, and it made tolerating their existence barely worth it.
As Jorgen hopped down, she took the reins and stopped the Popo from moving. It obeyed instantly, being a very well trained beast of burden. Jorgen moved over to the two guards standing by the road, both looking uneasy at the size of the creature but after a short but seemingly heated discussion, Jorgen returned, and the guards moved their hands away from their blades.
Poor quality armour and weapons, from the looks of it. The town seemed almost dead despite it being the middle of the day.
"Can you look after the goods while I talk to the Innkeep? They won't let me bring the Popo inside, and I don't want to leave the goods unattended," Jorgen requested, and she nodded easily with a smile.
"Yeah, no problem," Ciri agreed, happy to be of help. Honestly, she'd quickly discovered that she was a shitty farmer as she'd tried to help out around Chillbloom. Standing guard, she could do that.
Jorgen gave her a grateful nod, grabbing some stuff off the cart and heading toward the Frozen Hearth. This town was downright depressing, as half the buildings she could see were clearly abandoned and rundown. Some people finally came out, their attention caught by the Popo that she was petting.
Or maybe to the loaded cart behind it. Poverty was blatant here, and hungry eyes fell on the cart, but either her presence, the guards, or maybe the giant Popo kept them at bay.
– Haran –
"How?" Haran finally asked, making Jorgen chuckle. "The guards said the farm was trashed, how do you have this much already?"
"Magic. It runs in the family, and I'm slowly returning Chillbloom back to its glory days," Jorgen admitted as she shared a look with her husband.
"Jarl ain't gonna like that," Dagur said, but Jorgen simply shrugged.
"Magic has never done me wrong. The Vigilants have already cleared things up and proved it isn't Daedric. Should I have let the paranoia of old men cause my farm to fall into disrepair?" Jorgen asked, making her tilt her head. Dagur just hummed. "Chillbloom is nearly as old as the College itself; I wasn't going to let it die on my watch."
"So you made a deal with the College again?" Haran asked, watching Jorgen shake his head.
"Didn't need them," Jorgen replied. "Magic runs in my blood. I've got my own tricks. Look, if you'd rather not do business to avoid Korir's anger, I can take my goods to Dawnstar."
"No, no. That won't be a problem. He's here every other night complaining about us letting mages drink here or telling us to kick out our lodger anyway," Haran admitted. "But these prices, these products. I've never heard of half of these animals. Plus, this much meat and other goods for this cheap?"
"I'd be surprised if you had. Honestly, that's part of why I'm willing to offer them at such a low price. I know Popo meat is good, and the same is true of Kelbi and Mosswine, but you only have my word. Consider this a discount to prove that Chillbloom can be relied on," Jorgen explained. "Besides, my family always gave supplies for cheap before winter. Call it a family tradition."
He wasn't wrong, but that implied his farm was producing so much that he could afford to give away so much for so little. The negotiations continued for a short time, but they weren't Imperial moneylenders who needed to haggle over every last Septim. Chillbloom had been their partners since her grandparents had opened the inn, and Jorgen was open and honest with them.
Of course, she also had her husband pushing her to accept after he got a taste of the booze that Jorgen had brought. Much like the meats, he gave it to them at a massive discount as he rolled the barrels in. It was an unknown brand, so the price was still to be set. A part of her wondered when he'd had time to turn his farm into a brewery, but he had to get the drink from somewhere. If he said it came from the farm, she believed him.
If the Vigilants didn't find anything Daedric about his farm, she wasn't going to point fingers. At the end of the day, Jorgen had given them the best deal she'd seen in a long time, and she wasn't going to ruin it. She could deal with Korir's whining if it meant she had the food and booze to keep the inn in business without being entirely reliant on Nelacar's rent.
As he moved on, leaving them with a full larder, she watched Jorgen head back to his pet mammoth with a confused but pleased look. He'd be back on the first of next month to negotiate again for a more scheduled delivery once they'd had a chance to try out what he'd left them. Turning back, she sighed as she spotted her husband already cooking up a Popo steak on the grill with a fond but tired look. Well, she'd better hope the booze and meat were good since there was no keeping a hotblooded Nord away from the veritable mountain of meat and barrels of booze they'd suddenly ended up with.
Soon enough, the inn was abuzz with activity. Well, for Winterhold, which meant they had a few customers instead of just having Ranmir trying to beg for booze. Thanks to the prices that Jorgen had offered them, the food was even affordable for most of the customers.
Birna even bought her drunk of a brother a mug of Chillbloom Brew as she discussed matters with Haran. Much like he had with her, Jorgen had given Birna a damn good deal for the furs he'd brought with him, and while he was heading back to the farm with a considerable amount of coin, both store owners agreed that he'd probably charged a fifth of what he could have. In honesty, it was likely even less, as the furs were of incredible quality, and it was becoming apparent that so was the alcohol and meat.
Whatever else happened, there was one thing that was clear. Chillbloom wasn't just back; it was thriving in a time when very few places were so lucky. She just hoped Jorgen was ready for the attention this was bound to attract.
– Jorgen –
As I cook up some Popo steaks with Spirit Chicken eggs, Ciri pours us both a mug of Dwarven Brew. I can tell she's not going to stay for long; she's got a serious case of wanderlust that I know all too well, but it's been nice to have some company for the week.
For now, I have two contracts to celebrate. I know I let the goods go at a massive discount, but I need to gain my customer's trust and build up the Chillbloom name again, and that's worth more than pure coin. I have enough to buy what I need to upgrade my workshop, and I'll put the order in at Dawnstar sometime soon. I have more goods that I can use, even once I have monthly shipments going to Birna's Oddments and the Frozen Hearth so it would be a good idea to test the waters over in Dawnstar as well, anyway.
The most important thing is that I've just wowed Winterhold and showed a level of charity that only the rich can afford. That much meat given away for barely a small coin pouch is going to attract attention, and it's only a matter of time before one of the bandits hears it.
My eyes wander to my father's axe, resting on the wall above the hearth, and my smile grows from pleased to bloodthirsty for a moment before I wipe it away. Tonight is a night of celebration, and I actually have someone to celebrate with.
But soon enough, there's gonna be blood in the snow.
— Bonus Scene — Ancano
Winterhold was a barbaric place, and even this college was barely worth keeping an eye on. For all their boasting, the college was a backwards, inferior 'school' that didn't compare to the school he'd attended back in the Summerset Isles.
In truth, he may have been the last to hear the rumours as Winterhold buzzed with whispers and gossip that he dismissed as the worthless mumblings of Nords. It wasn't until he heard the 'Archmage' Savos and Tolfdir discussing this mysterious farm that he actually paid any attention to it.
Chillbloom Farm seemed to be the source of a great deal of strangeness, from rumours of some great beast that prowled around it to an army of tireless automatons that worked the fields and had been seen surveying the surroundings. Rumours of new, mysterious trees of white bark and red leaves, of creatures that no hunter or farmer had ever heard of.
Something was amiss in Chillbloom Farm, and as the Thalmor agent sent to this frozen hell, it was his duty to find out what.