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All eyes, Nord, Imperial, and even a few of the more neutral races, turned to them. A High Elf was a rare sight in Whiterun, and a High Elf accompanied by a fox, a very compliant fox at that, was apparently a spectacle. Murmurs rippled through the room, whispers of "Thalmor" and "strange folk." The warmth of the inn suddenly felt laced with a tangible chill of suspicion and dislike.
Aerion, however, had long ago learned to ignore the stares of NPCs, both digital and now, distressingly, real. He walked with a determined stride, his gaze fixed on the counter. He bypassed the lingering gazes and resumed conversations, making a direct line for Hulda, the inn's stout, no nonsense proprietor, who was polishing tankards behind the counter.
"Good evening," Aerion said, his voice polite but firm, cutting through the residual tension in the room. He placed his pouch of coins on the counter. "I'd like to rent a room for the night, if you have one available. And a hot meal, whatever you're serving, along with a tankard of your finest mead."
He glanced at Lupin, who sat dutifully at his feet, his tail tucked. "And my companion here is very well behaved. He'll simply curl up by my feet, if that's acceptable."
Meanwhile, Hulda sized him up. Her initial surprise at the High Elf and his fox was quickly replaced by the glint of coin in her eyes. She grunted, a more neutral sound than the guards' earlier disdain. "A room, a meal, and mead, you say? Aye, we got rooms. And plenty of stew on the fire. 23 septims."
She eyed Lupin. "As long as the little furball doesn't make a mess, he can stay. Best keep him away from the kitchen, though."
"Understood," Aerion replied, a small, knowing smile. He pulled out the necessary septims from his pouch which he took out from inside his clothes, while in truth from his inventory.
As Hulda took his septims, the murmurs in the room slowly resumed, though glances still darted his way. He ignored them. He had a room, food, and a place to think. That was all that mattered.
As Aerion settled onto the worn wooden stool at the counter, the clamor of the Bannered Mare returned to its usual boisterous rhythm. The crowd, a mix of locals and guards, had seemingly grown bored with the sight of a High Elf and his fox, turning their attention back to their mead and Mikael's music.
He gave Lupin a quick pat, and the fox curled up peacefully at his feet, content to watch the flickering firelight. Aerion's attention, however, was fixed on the stout woman behind the counter.
Hulda, true to form, ignored the lingering tension. She shouted over the din, her voice booming with the practiced authority of a tavern keeper. "Saadia! Get this man a hot stew and a tankard of mead!"
At the name Saadia, Aerion's mind made an instant connection. The Breton woman with short, dark hair, hunted by the Alik'r mercenaries. She was a key figure in one of the game's many intriguing side quests, a woman with a hidden past and a secret she guarded with a blade.
A moment later, she emerged from the kitchen, located directly opposite the counter. She was a sight to behold, her dark hair a perfect complement to her dark brown skin.
While not the kind of otherworldly beauty one might see in the courts of the Summerset Isles which he found from Aerion's memory, she possessed a striking, earthy charm and an undeniable grace.
Aerion noted the quick, professional way she moved through the crowded room, a hint of steel in her posture that belied her simple serving clothes. She gave a nod to Hulda, acknowledging the order.
Her eyes then swept over the room before landing on Aerion. A flicker of surprise, followed by a faint curiosity, crossed her features. High Elves were a rare sight in this part of Skyrim, especially one with such a striking, angular face and a quiet confidence that set him apart.
Saadia disappeared back into the kitchen, and Aerion turned his focus to Hulda, who was now polishing a tankard with vigorous motions. This was his chance to gather information.
"Hulda, as an innkeeper, you must hear all manner of tales and news," Aerion began, his voice low and engaging. "I'm a traveler, and I admit I've been... out of touch with the local situation. What's the state of things here? I hear rumors of a great conflict brewing."
Hulda snorted, setting the sparkling tankard on a shelf. "Aye, a conflict is brewing alright. The Imperial Legion and those damned Stormcloaks are at each other's throats. The fighting's getting more brutal every day, and most of the Jarls have had to choose a side."
She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping a little. "But here in Whiterun, Jarl Balgruuf's trying to keep us out of it. He's smart, our Jarl. For now, we're one of the only safe havens left in Skyrim."
She then peered at Aerion, a skeptical look on her face. "But what about you? A High Elf, and you don't know the situation here in Skyrim? I'd have thought you people were neck deep in it considering it happened because of you."
This was the delicate part. He had to distance himself from the Thalmor without outright condemning them, which would make him seem suspicious. He also had to sound believable, like a genuine traveler.
"Not all of my kin share the views of the Dominion," Aerion said, his tone carefully measured, a touch of weary sincerity in his voice. "We are as diverse as any other race. I left my home long ago, seeking a different path, to see the world for what it is, not what my people believe it should be. The political squabbles of the Empire and the Thalmor hold little interest for a scholar and traveler like myself."
Hulda's skeptical expression lingered for a moment, her eyes searching his face. He held her gaze, a small, genuine smile on his lips, projecting an image of harmless, academic detachment. This wasn't just a performance, it was an act of persuasion.
He was a gamer who had spent countless hours grinding dialogue options and knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. He focused on his words, on his tone, on his body language. He wasn't lying so much as presenting a carefully curated truth.
After a long pause, a surprising look of understanding dawned on Hulda's face. She actually seemed to believe him. "Hmm. I suppose that's fair," she conceded, her tone softening. "Not all elves are bad, I reckon. Just the ones in their fancy robes."
She chuckled, a warm, hearty sound. "Fair enough, traveler. It's a bloody shame, this war. But Jarl Balgruuf will see us through it. He's a good man."
A notification, a chime only he could hear, flashed into existence before his eyes.
[Skill Unlocked: Persuasion (Level 1)!]
[Description: The ability to influence the thoughts and actions of others through dialogue. Your way with words is so good, it's almost a lie.]
[Due to your Fast Skill Levelling, Persuasion has increased to Level 10!]
Aerion felt a subtle shift in his mind, a new clarity in how he could formulate words to sway others. It was an exhilarating sensation. He'd just leveled up a critical social skill without even trying, a testament to his cheat mod abilities. He also felt a familiar tingling sensation as another series of notifications appeared.
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 5!]
[You have 1 Attribute Point to spend!]
He immediately directed the attribute point to his Magicka. He needed a deep well of magical power for what he had planned, a reserve that could last through multiple high intensity fights. The more Magicka he had, the more spells he could throw, and the more quickly he could end a battle. A new notification appeared, confirming his choice.
[Magicka increased by 10 points! Current Magicka: 130/130]
Hulda, meanwhile, had moved on to a new topic, now regaling him with a tale about a drunken patron who had tried to pay for his mead with a bucket of mudcrabs. Aerion listened, nodding along, his mind already formulating his next moves.
Just then Saadia emerged with a wooden tray. On it was a steaming bowl of beef stew and a large tankard of frothy mead. She walked over to him, her hips swaying slightly, and set the meal down on the counter with a gentle thud.
"Here you are, handsome," she said, a playful lilt in her voice. "Enjoy your meal. Let me know if you need anything else."
Her eyes held his for a moment, a subtle smile playing on her lips, before she turned and disappeared back into the kitchen. Aerion caught the subtle teasing in her tone, the way a beautiful woman might flirt with a stranger.
It was a normal human interaction, something he hadn't experienced in a very long time. It felt good. He ignored the slight jealousy that emanated from the Nords in the room, focusing entirely on the food.
His stomach, having been in a state of constant protest since the bandit fight, was in full agreement. He grabbed the wooden spoon and immediately began to devour the beef stew.
It was simple and rustic fare, consisting of chunks of beef, potatoes, and carrots in a thick, savory broth. It tasted like heaven. He alternated bites with large, satisfying gulps of the mead, its malty sweetness a welcome change from the harshness of the road.
He heard a soft whine from below and looked down. Lupin sat patiently, his gaze fixed on the bowl of stew, his tail thumping a soft rhythm on the floorboards.
Aerion sighed, a fond smile on his face. He scooped out a small portion of carrots and potatoes onto a spare plate. "Alright, you little beggar. This is a one time thing. Don't get used to it."
Lupin's eyes lit up, and he eagerly gobbled down the vegetables, his happy yips drowned out by the boisterous tavern. Aerion finished his meal, feeling his body and mind slowly but surely reenergizing.
After he had polished off every last drop, he stood up. "The room, please?" he asked.
Hulda nodded, pointing a thick finger toward a wooden door at the far end of the room. "Up the stairs, to your left. Only one room up there, so you can't miss it."
With a final nod of thanks, Aerion, with Lupin at his heels, made his way to the stairs.
He ignored the stares and whispers that followed him, his focus already on the next phase of his plan. Rest, a full stomach, and a freshly leveled mind.
He was ready for anything Whiterun, and the rest of Skyrim, had to throw at him. He would just have to be prepared to throw his lightning and fire magic, the ones he has for now, right back.
Aerion and Lupin ascended the narrow wooden staircase, the stairs groaning softly under their combined weight. At the top, a small landing with a single door to the left awaited them. Aerion pushed it open, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of the simple, clean room.
A small bed with a feather mattress, a wooden nightstand, and a single window overlooking the city stables made up the modest space. More importantly, the key to his room was still in the keyhole on the inside. He pushed the door shut, the latch clicking with a satisfying finality, and then twisted the key, locking it and leaving it in place.
He felt a deep, almost visceral sense of relief. For the first time since his abrupt arrival in this world, he felt truly safe and secure, shielded from the chaos and danger of Skyrim.
It was a fleeting, but powerful, comfort. He sat on the edge of the bed, slowly pulling off his boots and placing them neatly on the floor. The bed gave a soft sigh as he lay back, the feather mattress molding to his body. He let out a long, slow sigh, the tension of the past day finally draining from his muscles.
Lupin, wanting to rest as well, hopped onto the bed and curled up beside him, his warm fur a comforting presence. Aerion reached out, absentmindedly stroking the fox's back as his mind, now free from the immediate threat of bandits and the stress of social interaction, began to race.
Tomorrow was a new day, and a day in this world presented an overwhelming number of options. He could go and explore the town. There had to be more of his "mods" out there. The system panel, a constant, silent presence in his mind, only showed skills.
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.
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 100/100 Stamina: 110/110 Magicka: 180/180 Level: 4 ➝ 5
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 15/17), & Persuasion (Level 10) - NEW
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Pouch = 333 Septims
1x Iron Dagger, Iron Mace, Steel Dagger, & Iron Battleaxe
Weight: 25 KG / 305 KG