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 Marethyu, Priapus, Beans
The Celestial Farmer
Chapter 07: Roads
– Jorgen –
100cp granted, 100cp total.
My connection informed me about the priestess wandering toward my land the moment she crossed the threshold of what is considered 'my' land. Of course, I was down in Blackreach at the time, helping Nerscylla get settled in.
Well, burying the dismembered bodies of Thalmor while Nerscylla hunted the Falmer for sport. She likes it down there, already hard at work building a web a good distance from the farmland itself, and she understands her purpose. She's there to cull the Falmer population.
Turns out there's some kind of town down there, a ruined Dwemer city that is now inhabited by fucking madmen. I pity them, probably dragged down here by the Falmer, but they're all beyond communicating and attacked me when I approached. Putting them out of their misery is a mercy, so I told Nerscylla she could hunt them.
I found a disabled Dwemer Centurion left on the doorstep of the field laboratory I'm using as a temporary base of operations in Blackreach before I can make a proper farmstead down there. Nerscylla's idea of a gift, I think. At least it's better than the dead trolls Barioth keeps dropping on my doorstep.
I'd appreciate the gift if I didn't know Barioth just wants me to harvest and cook them for him. The big baby. Still, we've had no problems from the local trolls, bears and sabercats and I know he's responsible, so I won't complain. He keeps the livestock safe… most of the time.
I think he let a wolf get into the chicken pen just to see what would happen. We found the charred, pecked corpse the next morning. It looked like Barioth had snacked on it a bit as…
Wait, is Barioth using the chickens to cook his food for him?
That fucking cat, I swear to the Gods.
Shaking my head, I focus as I head back to the farmhouse. Sudi has welcomed the pilgrim in and given the woman some food and drink. I've left her instructions on what to do with any visitors while I'm away or working, and having someone around to hold down the house certainly helps a lot.
Heading inside, I put my coat away with a tired groan. The days are getting colder, and fast. We're on the edge of winter, and this far north, even my Nord blood doesn't appreciate being outside for too long. It's going to get worse before it gets better, and Dawnstar and Winterhold are always hit the hardest.
Honestly, I don't blame Jarl Korir for his bitterness toward the mages. For all their magic, they do so very little to help the community their college is attached to. Just look at what I've achieved in a fraction of the time they've been around. Instead, they isolate themselves inside their college and ignore everyone around them. I get that the mistrust from us stubborn, superstitious Nords, probably isn't nice, but they're not helping it by hiding away all the time. Of course, Korir isn't helping with his vitriol toward them either, so it's a mess where everyone is making it worse.
"Jorgen! How did your day go?" Sudi asks, not directly asking about Blackreach since we have a guest. I don't know why she's hedging around it; it's not like I plan to keep it a secret. With my connection to the land, I've felt her edging her way around, answering exactly where I am, simply claiming that I was doing some work at the edge of the farm.
"It went well, got a nice plot set up down there. The Mosswine Mushrooms are already growing well, and I've started gathering the other underground ingredients," I explain. "Nerscylla is happy enough down there as well."
As I speak, I turn to our guest. She's an older woman, though far from ancient. She's dressed in what is very clearly a priestess' robe, the patterning telling me she is a servant of Kynareth, and has her hood down as she enjoys the comfort of the house.
"Ah, right. Jorgen, this is Danica Pure-Spring, from Whiterun," Sudi introduces, looking a little nervous. This is her first time handling guests without me there, so she's worried she handled it wrong. "She's a pilgrim of Kynareth, here to look at the Weirwood trees. I've offered her the guest room and food while she's here…"
"Of course. I wouldn't leave a follower of Lady Kynareth outside in the cold," I reassure Sudi, making her relax. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need, Lady Pure-Spring. Sudi, is Ranni around?"
"I haven't seen her today. She left early and didn't say where she was going," Sudi explains, and I just nod. Ranni isn't used to telling anyone why she's doing anything. I can sense her presence over in the Lighthouse. Well, she's a big girl, she can take care of herself.
"I appreciate the hospitality, Jorgen. Your farm has certainly attracted a lot of attention lately, for word to have even spread to Whiterun," Danica says, making me snort.
"Gossip is faster than the wind itself, and just as hard to stop the spread of," I grunt. "I'm not interested in the chatter of others. I've got too much work to do for that."
Danica blinks at that, but moves on quickly as I start dinner. Sudi has done most of the meal prep for me, but she didn't know when I'd be home. It only takes a little effort to calm down Danica when the smell of cooking steaks attracts a certain oversized cat to the front door.
– Danica Pure-Spring –
She hadn't known what to expect from Jorgen himself, to be honest. Nords tended to be more traditional, and she hadn't expected violence as few self-respecting Nords would harm a priestess for fear of angering the gods, but she also thought he'd want to keep his secrets.
He did not appear to give a singular shit about his secrets.
He openly showed her the weirwood saplings that his power gave him, each one sharing a touch of divinity that the Weirwoods radiated. He spoke freely of his plans for Blackreach, the great underground cavern he was turning into a farm expansion. He didn't try to hide the giant cat-lizard that he treated like an oversized mouser that some farms had. Only, it caught trolls and ice wraiths, not mice.
She hadn't seen Nerscylla, but he'd been open about owning a second giant monster that was apparently decimating the local Falmer population. As a priestess of Kynareth, she had been taught that all life was sacred. As a resident of Skyrim who had seen the work of the Falmer on multiple occasions, she wished Nerscylla the best of luck dealing with the under-elves.
Besides, Nerscylla was a creature of the world as well. Kynareth did not judge the wolf for hunting a rabbit. That said, from Sudi's description of it, she had no desire to ever actually see the giant spider-like monster. Some of nature's wonders were best appreciated from a safe distance, and she considered 'another province' as the safe distance from Nerscylla, given the vivid descriptions.
Now, Chocobos? That was one of the wonders of nature that she could appreciate in person. The horse-sized birds were affectionate, powerful and beautiful. They were also unlike anything she had ever heard of before. She was a priestess of Kynareth, knowing animals was a part of her duties. She liked to think she knew every creature that was native to Skyrim.
She recognised horkers and goats on the farm. The Kelbi and Mosswine? The fire-breathing chickens? The giant mammoth-like Popo? She had never even heard of them before. Not even whispers. They were all similar to creatures she could name. The Kelbi were similar to deer. The Mosswine were related to pigs. But that was where her familiarity ended. Jorgen claimed they'd just appeared on the farm, and with anyone else, she'd claim he was lying, but the man made zero effort to hide the strangeness around himself. He just shrugged and said it was magic or the Gods, then went back to farming.
His explanation was that, despite the influx of knowledge, he didn't see himself as a mage because he couldn't explain his own magic. He also wasn't a priest, so he had no intention of claiming that something was or was not the Gods. To Jorgen, it was just something that happened, and he wasn't going to question it because that was for intellectuals and priests to decide. Essentially, he had no idea who or what had caused it, and the Vigilants had already confirmed it wasn't daedric, so he saw no problems with using the blessings that were falling upon him.
It was the strange pragmatism of a Nord who owned a farm in the most frozen land in the world. If it was useful and wasn't daedric, then why not use it? He didn't need to understand things to use them, and he'd clearly proven that by making his farm thrive in the frozen conditions.
He was more than happy to have her around, investigating the trees and creatures. Honestly, she was almost embarrassed that he seemed to have faith that she'd work it out since she was a priestess of Kynareth.
She didn't have a clue what was going on, but Keeper Carcette's theory of him being blessed by the Nine seemed increasingly realistic. When every reasonable option was crossed off, the truly insane became more likely. When she'd set off, she'd been ready to call Carcette's theory mad. Now?
If he wasn't blessed, then what was he?
She didn't have the answers. All she had was a certainty that there was a hint of divinity inside the Weirwood trees, a form of magic that was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It reminded her of the Gildergreen in some ways, but while the Gildergreen had felt powerful at its prime, it paled compared to the sheer presence of the Weirwood trees.
Jorgen had happily given her a sapling when she'd mentioned that she may be able to use it to restore the Gildergreen. For all his powers, he was not shy about sharing the bounty of his gift.
As she lay back in the hot spring, Danica let out a sigh of relief. Much like everything in Chillbloom, the hot spring was as confusing as it was amazing. She could feel a trace of divinity in it, and the waters radiated restoration magic. The aches and pains of her old bones had faded away, the weariness of her long trek vanishing as she soaked in the perfect temperature waters. Chillbloom was surprisingly warm for the area and season, but it was still damn cold for someone from Whiterun, a far more temperate part of Skyrim.
Finding out Jorgen had somehow gained a hot spring in Winterhold, hadn't gotten any response from her, but 'yeah, that makes as much sense as anything else I've seen'. Sudi was the one who'd recommended that she take a soak before bed each night, and Jorgen was happy to let the girls have it for themselves for the night, as he soaked in it in the mornings, apparently.
It took her all of one day before she too soaked in the mornings, though luckily Jorgen woke up hours before her, and it was free when she finally got out of bed. She'd already achieved her goal, and really, she should be heading back to Whiterun. She'd confirmed that Kynareth's blessing was within the Weirwood trees, as Carcette requested, and she'd even found a way to maybe restore the Gildergreen tree as a bonus.
She definitely needed to leave before winter arrived in full force, and the roads became a frozen, snow-covered mess. And yet, had she truly achieved anything? She had no explanation for the strangeness around Jorgen. She could see why Carcette had been so confused by Jorgen, but much like the Keeper, she was out of her depth.
Sinking further into the hot spring, Danica sighed in both pleasure and frustration. When she got home, she'd need to send out some letters to her fellow priests and priestesses. All she could say for certain was that Kynareth's presence was clear in Chillbloom Farm.
She suspected that this would become a new destination for pilgrims in time, especially as the Weirwood grove that Jorgen had planted around the graves of his parents grew larger and larger. One of the trees, the one directly behind the graves, was growing to a truly impressive height.
– Jorgen –
Looking at my handiwork, I smile proudly.
Pulling the lever, I watch as the minecart moves along the tracks without the need of a beast of burden or a golem pushing it. Automation is the king of production, and this will let me send my goods between Chillbloom, Blackreach and Frostflow much more freely.
There are a lot of ore veins down there, and I've set up a smelter as well. The golems will mine the ores and turn them into ingots, then send them to Chillbloom where the goods will be stored in the increasingly vast underground storerooms. I've had to make sure to reinforce the tunnels and underground chambers, and keep them away from the farmable land, but the cellar is getting increasingly vast, now three separate floors. I originally wanted to use Blackreach as storage, and I still plan to, but it's not quite secure enough at the moment. It has a set of golems that just exist to sort and record everything that goes in and out of the storerooms, and I'm once again in the same predicament that I started with.
I have more goods than I do clients. Winterhold just doesn't have the money to buy all my goods, even at the discounted price I give them. The Khajiit caravans sometimes go to Dawnstar, but never to Winterhold, and that's only going to get rarer as the cold sets in. Merchants just don't come this far north, and I don't have the time to head south.
I need to increase the trade flowing to the north, and that comes with its own problems. Dawnstar is the best bet, but… I don't want to deal with the Jarl. I already know my eventual trip there will end poorly for everyone. He's going to demand I join the Stormcloaks, I'm going to refuse, then he's going to throw a fit because he's a true fanatic. I've got no horse in this race, I don't owe the Empire a damn thing but I also don't want to war against my own people. Rumours say Ulfric killed the High King with the Thu'um, either illegally or in a duel.
The Stormcloaks use it to prove Ulfric is powerful and great, but if he's so good then why did he need to unleash an ancient power on a boy who barely had any stubble on his chin? Ulfric is a warrior, no doubt, but if he challenged the High King to a duel and then blew him apart with magic, that's cowardice not honour. If I challenge someone to a duel, I'm not going to breathe fire on them or have Barioth eat them. I'm going to fight them with my axe.
Bah, this isn't my problem. Pa always said not to let other people's squabbles become your problem. Focus on your own problems, and my problem is the logistics of trading my excess supply, not this damn war.
So, how should I encourage trade, during a war, with winter rapidly approaching?
Scratching my chin for a moment, I nod to myself. Time to get to work.
– Later –
"You expect me to sell more of Winterhold's land to a mage?" Korir asks, his bitterness on full display as he sits on his throne. It's a grandiose thing, because he feels that he needs to make such shows to gain respect from the other Jarls who see him as the weakest of their honoured numbers.
"I ain't a mage, my Jarl. My family uses magical means to grow our crops, aye, but I don't see myself as a mage," I counter calmly. I can already see the sneer on his face, the way he's about to accuse me of consorting with the enemies of Winterhold, but I cut in first. "And it's always been to Winterholds benefit. How many times has Winterhold survived the harshest winters from food grown on enchanted grounds? Chillbloom and Winterhold have been friends since my ancestor first made the 'mad' decision to build a farm in the frozen north, before the Great Collapse."
Korir's words die in his mouth, knowing that I'm right. Even now, I can smell the scent of Popo steaks. I know vegetables from my farm fill the Jarl's pantry. Jarl Korir hates the College, but I'm hoping he's not so lost in his hatred to be a complete hypocrite. I'd not cut off Winterhold, even if he was. I'm not going to punish a town for the actions of one bitter man, but he knows their preparations for the winter rely on me. I can even see some Popo fur around the longhouse.
"Why do you even want that patch of land? Even your… methods couldn't farm a damn thing over there," Korir asks, a scowl on his face.
"Oh, that frozen land is useless for farming, true. Couldn't even have any livestock that far north. What it does have is access to the sea of ghosts. It's dangerous to fish there for all the ice, true, but I can make a fishery up there," I explain, making him lean back. Fishing is one of the few sources of food that Winterhold has, and that's unreliable since the ocean never really recovered from half the fucking city falling into it. To fish, you have to take a boat out further north and with all the ice, that's a risky venture. Alternatively, you can head east toward Solstheim, but note that this route has its own issues, as the Red Mountain has erupted.
"You wouldn't be the first to try to make a fishery in Winterhold," Korir points out.
"Aye, and I might fail. If I do, the cost of the failed venture is on me and I've bought some worthless land that can't be used for a damn thing," I agree, watching him lean back. He shares a look with his wife, Thaena, who hates the College just as much as he does. She doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look like she's against it either. They have a young son, and this winter is feeling like it's going to be a harsh one.
At the end of the day, what they have to lose is a patch of land that has never been used for a damn thing.
"I can pay in gold, resources or labour. The roads to Winterhold are in ruins, and we both know Winterhold never gets a damn thing from the rest of Skyrim. High King Torygg barely acknowledged this hold existed, Elisif is doing the same and I'd damn well bet that if Ulfric becomes High King, he'll ignore us as well," I snort grimly, watching Korir's features fall into a scowl, but not one aimed at me. Winterhold has been an afterthought since the Great Collapse, and even if he leans toward the Stormcloaks, Winterhold is too irrelevant for either side to really give a damn about us. "I'll fix the roads myself. You've heard of the road going to the farm, aye?"
"I have," Korir says in a clipped tone. Again, it's magic, but as a Jarl, he can't deny that the roads being so bad stops any trade from coming up to Winterhold. "You'll provide the materials?"
"Aye. All the roads in Winterhold, and I'll repair the roads all the way south to the bridge past Agna's Mill and west to Nightgate Inn," I promise, seeing his eyes widen. That's a hell of a lot more than he expected, and that means that people travelling from Whiterun to Windhelm will pass close to the new roads. Nightingale Inn is also between Dawnstar and Winterhold, meaning word will spread fast about the new roads. "If I start soon, I can have them paved before winter hits. The heated bricks don't freeze over, and the lamps will keep the road lit even in the darker days and nights."
"And you'll use your… stone men to do it?" Korir asks, making me nod.
"I will. They can work all night, even in the coldest weather. They ain't men, just stone and earth made to work. More like the Dwemer machines than anything the mages use," I explain. "Be foolish not to use them."
"Magic, taking jobs from honest working Nord men," his wife grumbles, but Korir surprises me before I can speak up.
"They're not taking work, because there's no work to take. We've never had the money to pay for men to repair the roads," Korir says. "We've had some more to throw around, with the taxes from Chillbloom, but this would have needed the High King to fund it, and they're happy to let us rot away in our frozen waste."
I've been sending my taxes, along with a small portion of my produce to the Jarl, since I am technically under his command. Skald can't tell me to do a damn thing because I'm not from Dawnstar, even if I worked there for a couple of years, but Korir is my Jarl. He could have demanded more, he could have sent people to audit my farm and make excuses to take more, but he never did. As bitter as he is, I know he's a man of honour and one who cares for his people.
The negotiation continues, as we pull out a map and work out the roads that I'll be working on, along with some minor concessions. I've let him know that I've set up my own smithy and offered to produce weapons and armour for the guards at cost. He'll need to expand the patrols down the new roads, if he wants to make them safe enough to lure in more travellers to Winterhold, and we even discuss the possibility of me making a guard tower along the road down the line. Not for free, of course.
This is a chance for Winterhold to get back on its feet, and he knows I'm being damn generous for a reason. The price of the parcel of land I've bought isn't nearly enough to warrant such a construction, being funded by me no less, but he knows I benefit from increasing trade as much as he does. Realistically, this was all just an excuse for me to get permission to work the roads that I already wanted to fix up.
The fishery could be good if I set it up right, and I'm always looking for ways to expand my business, but the roads are what really matter. With a fixed road and a more secure hold, it won't be too hard to lure traders from Dawnstar, Windhelm and Whiterun. Despite what happened to my family, we don't really have too many bandits this far north because the cold makes living in the wilds far too risky. You're more likely to freeze to death or get eaten by trolls than run into guards, and the lack of traders means there's little to steal to begin with. When most travellers are mages going to the college, attacking lone travellers is asking for a mage to set you on fire.
As I look over the map, I pause for a moment.
"Jarl Korir, who actually owns Fort Kastav?" I ask, making him pause.
"I do. It's a fort in my hold, and while the agreements mean the High King or Queen can station troops there, it's still mine," Korir explains, frowning. "But right now, it's been overrun by bloody mages. Necromancers as well. The worst type of mage. Spitting in the face of Arkay with their foulness. Why?"
"I can fix that up, once it's cleared. As it happens, I've got a friend in the Companions. If the roads are fixed, any travellers have to pass close to Fort Kastav. Right now, that's a risk. We fix that up, I imagine Ulfric or Elisif will suddenly want to help defend the Hold," I point out, making him snort darkly.
"Fort Kastav is too close to Windhelm for Ulfric to risk Imperials setting up in it. He'll station his men in it, just to stop the Imperials from doing it first," Korir agrees. "Find out how much the Companions want to clear the place. I'll pay it myself, we have some money to spare. We'll discuss fixing it up once the damn necromancers are dead."
In the end, I stayed for dinner at the Jarl's Longhouse, amused to be eating my own produce at someone else's home. By the time night falls, we've got our agreement. We don't need contracts or to squabble over the exact details like some Imperial moneylender, the word of two Nord men is good enough.
Ciri sent me a letter by the courier telling me that she'd reached Whiterun and has joined the Companions, and joked to send her any monster-hunting work that comes up. Turns out, I do have some work for her.
As night falls, the letter is sent and the golems begin their work. No point in wasting time.
…but how did the courier know I had a letter for him?
Feat Achieved: Begin restoring Winterhold to its former glory (100cp), Negotiate with Jarl Korir as a magic user (200cp).300cp granted. 400cp total.
[Monster Hunter: Quematrice] - 200cp, 200cp remaining
Brute wyverns with disproportionately long tails. They spread a flammable substance, then ignite it by dragging their tails along the ground.
As the mighty Quematrice appears before me, I pause for a moment before a single thought occurs.
That's a big damn chicken. A Chicken Dragon.
…what does it taste like?
Guiding him into the area where I'll make him his pen, I make sure to turn the heat runes up for this section since he's definitely not meant for this weather.
[Iron Fist] - 200cp, 0cp remaining
Source: Avengers Vs X-Men
You plunged your fist into the heart of the sacred dragon of Kun'lun and took that power for yourself, feeling the mighty Chi flow through your body and make you into the legendary Iron Fist. One of the dragons anyway. Apparently, there's more than one. The powerful Chi you now possess is equal to that held by the current Iron Fist, Danny Rand, and gives a fair number of capabilities. Using this energy to enhance your abilities is simple, making even a normal human able to catch bullets and smash apart entire buildings. It grants total control over your own body and the ability to absorb and fire blasts of raw chi energy, even infusing it into other things to empower them. More esoteric effects, such as creating illusions or dimensional gates, are possible with training. This chi effect appears exceptionally potent against the Phoenix Force, even if normally it is far too weak. With this, you are a highly accomplished martial artist, but not on the level of Danny Rand.
As the power floods my veins, knowledge of this ancient martial art flashing through my mind, I freeze, my body glowing with green energy.
Bah, I'm still sending the Companions to clear the fort. I don't have time to do it myself. I've got roads to fix.
– Aela the Huntress – Later –
Fort Kastav was one of dozens of old forts, fallen into disrepair after years of neglect. Much like the rest, it had also fallen into the hands of criminals and outlaws, in this case a bunch of Necromancers and Conjurers who took it from the Imperial Legion near the start of the war, and nobody gave enough of a damn to take it back since.
She liked fighting Conjurers, in truth. It was so much easier than most mages, because you just had to put an arrow through their skull and their conjured monsters died. No need to worry about some lunatic throwing lightning or creating firestorms.
Necromancers could be a bit more of a pain, their undead tended to stick around once the mage fell, and skeletons didn't care much about arrows. That's why she brought Njada Stonearm along with her mace. They'd dragged Ria along as well, since their two newest members needed to prove themselves.
Not that she thought Ciri truly needed to prove a damn thing, given how badly she'd beaten Vilkas in her test. The man was still pouting over the thrashing he'd gotten, but he should have known better than to underestimate Ciri for having tits after the mess with Uthgerd killing the whelp she'd been put against.
Not to mention the fact that old man Eorlund was still scowling over Ciri's equipment, since it was better than his Skyforged Steel. The man had his pride, and it had been wounded by some farmer in the frozen wastes of Skyrim. That wasn't even mentioning her bottomless bag, or the other wonders Ciri carried (including some very good booze).
Still, as Ciri fed her Chocobo another treat, Aela chuckled to herself as the four of them made their way north. Eorlund was prideful, as any true Nord would be. She'd accepted the contract because, frankly, she wanted a Chocobo of her own. It put horses to shame, and she wanted to meet this Jorgen.
"This your man's handiwork?" Aela asked as they moved across the river yorgrim toward Winterhold, the roads changing from barely paved to something that she would have expected to see in the fanciest parts of Solitude. The brick beneath her feet even felt warm, no sign of snow on the path.
"He's not my-" Ciri started, before sighing and running a hand through her hair. "You know what, never mind. We're not doing this again. But yes. It wasn't here before, I don't think. I went from Dawnstar last time, so I didn't tread this path, but I'm almost certain that this is Jorgen's handiwork."
"It wasn't. I've been up this way a couple of times," Njada agreed, examining the smooth pathing. "Your man has some tricks, huh?"
Ignoring the way Ciri started squabbling with Njada and Ria, Aela led the group further along the road. They were stopping in Winterhold first to talk to the Jarl, but this road would take them past the Fort they were going to be clearing once an agreement was set. It was good to scout out how hard the job was going to be before she put a price on it.
Honestly, she'd kill necromancers for free, but old man Kodlak would scold her again. Plus, supplies weren't cheap and the companions were damn near always broke. Mostly because of the drinking. And because they kept tearing their outfits when they changed.
…entirely because of the drinking. Ciri's man made that wonderful alcohol she'd brought with her, didn't he?
– Savos Aren –
He rarely dealt with the new college members himself anymore, far too busy with his own work and more than happy to leave the administration to Mirabelle. In truth, he hadn't even noticed that Ancano had gone missing until Mirabelle brought it to his attention, and even then, he'd just shrugged and gone back to his own research. He wasn't the Thalmor mage's babysitter, and he had no desire to form a search party if the arrogant man had gotten himself into a mess he couldn't handle.
But there were times when he made an exception for new students.
"I think it is clear that your talent for magic is more than adequate to permit your membership here," Savos said cheerfully, as the Lunar Witch ended her demonstration, the night sky darkening as the glow from her terrifying magic faded. "Though I must admit, most of our students come to us in the hopes of learning to master their magic. A feat I can see you need no such help with. What are you hoping to achieve here, Lady Ranni?"
"Mastery of my magic and much more," Ranni replied simply, her two pairs of hands interlocking as her blue face stared expressionlessly, and the spectral face partially overlaid next to it gave a secret smile. "I have no interest in the squabbling of men, nor any desire to involve myself in the politics of this land. I wish to learn the magic of this land, nothing more."
"Well, you've come to the right place," Savos said, a smile on his face and just a hint of dread flooding his veins. His self-preservation told him that he'd made the right choice as both faces smiled, just slightly.
— Bonus Scene — Elenwen
Ancano was not nearly as smart as he thought he was.
He was also most certainly dead, but that was irrelevant at the moment.
Ancano had tried to go around her, using misleading messages to her Justicars to get a squad to join him on his mission to this… farm, but he'd overestimated his own subtlety and vastly underestimated her intelligence. He also underestimated the loyalty of her people. Had he not gotten himself killed, diverging from his assigned task of monitoring the College and ensuring they did not get involved in the war, she'd have had him killed herself.
His job had been simple. Maintain relations with the College, ensuring that the magi did not join either side of the war. If they joined the Imperials, the Stormcloaks would have little counter for the multiple powerful mages, and the war would end too soon, allowing Skyrim to stabilise. If they joined the Stormcloaks, those would be more likely to win, another thing they wished to avoid. The ideal situation for the Thalmor was a long and exhausting war that left Skyrim crippled but independant, allowing the Thalmor to move in as they had with Hammerfell after the White-Gold Concordat.
Either way, the war had to last as long as possible, which meant keeping the College neutral. It was a fairly important task, and Ancano should have been honoured to handle it. Instead, he'd lied to a squad of her justicars and diverted them from hunting Talos worshippers (to further increase the Nord hatred against the Empire and the Thalmor, since the Stormcloaks' recruitment was currently down due to a bad defeat on the battlefield, and they needed more to join the Stormcloaks).
As for why he'd do this? Well, even in Solitude, some rumours had started to reach them of Chillbloom Farm and its weirdness, but most of it was dismissed as tall tales. If Ancano was trying to work around her, he both believed there was something in the farm worth crossing her for, and planned to present it to their superiors and claim the rewards for himself while stabbing her in the back. Again, if he had in fact survived, she'd kill him herself.
They'd lost contact with the entire squad, which was concerning, but Ancano, as arrogant and shortsighted as he could be, was not a complete fool. He'd been sent to the College for his skill and knowledge when it came to magic. If he believed something was on the farm, something worth crossing her for, then he was almost certainly correct.
So he may have done her a favour, after all.