Power Corrupts: Prizes (ch.35) (Patreon)

I felt every rib shatter in my chest. Blood erupted from my mouth as my organs were pulverized under the unrelenting force that slammed into my chest. I doubt I ever would have come to a stop if I hadn't slammed into a wall hard enough that stone buckled under the force, just as my armor did. For the first time in what felt like ages, I checked my health to see if the attack felt worse than it was. 

633/2860

More than three-fourths of my health with a single word. Without my damage resistance and armor, I would have been one-shotted. 

A ragged gasp escaped me as I fell forward, falling to a knee as my sword clattered from my hands. The Deathlord stood some distance away, holding it's greatsword at the ready before an arrow slammed into its shoulder. I didn't waste time to look at who shot it, knowing it must have been Aela. Instead, I used the precious seconds that she gave me to gather myself. My ribs were already reformed, but air refused to enter my lungs. 

Looking down at myself, I saw that my armor was a complete loss. It was bent inwards, driving itself into my diaphram, and it looked like it was only the quality of the metal that stopped that unrelenting force from tearing a hole right through me. But, now was not the time to admire. I grabbed at the ruined edges of my thick armor and pulled it off of my chest. The leather straps holding it together ripped, the scrap metal clattered to the ground as I eagerly filled my lungs with air. 

The taste of blood was heavy on my tongue as I reached into my inventory, rising to my feet with my sword back in hand. The Deathlord paid little attention to me in favor of approaching Aela and Farkas with taunting slowness. Aela fired another arrow, only for this one to be batted away with the Ebony greatsword wreathed in magical fire. Gulping down the potion, I strode forward, clenching my jaw. 

That wasn't even because of me getting cocky. The Thu'um was simply beyond anything that I had expected. In the game, it was used to get followers out of awkward positions because of poor pathfinding. That… that had damn near killed me. 

And if it could do that to me then Aela and Farkas didn't stand a chance. A word and they would be reduced to paste, werewolves or not. 

My approach was as silent as I could make it, but the jangling of loose chainmail must have given me away as I neared. The Deathlord spun around, his Ebony blade darting forward to block an overhanded slash. I was angry. Pissed. And Berserker turned that anger into strength. It was impossible for me to break through the Ebony blade, but the Deathlord was driven to a knee, its arms managing to remain firm. Only this time the edge of my sword clashed against it. 

The edge of the Ebony blade bit into mine deep enough that it nearly reached the halfway point in the blade. More than that, where my blade met his began to glow red as the smell of burning metal reached my nose. I couldn’t risk pushing down any harder or his blade would cut right through mine. 

"Get the hell out of here," I shouted, lashing out with a foot that caught the Deathlord in the chest. That would have killed any previous draugr, but even as bones broke as it suffered a hard landing, it got back up almost instantly, stuck on a lower platform and dangerously close to Aela. "I'll deal with him," I spoke, striding down the steps as the Deathlord paid no mind to Aela as it walked to meet me halfway. 

We moved as one, our blades clashing again as his sword bit into mine. I diverted the worst of it, retreating up a step, and for it the Deathlord's deadly blade raced towards me in a glowing black blur. But Ryuu's attacks were faster. I had no trouble at all jerking my stomach to the side to dodge the thrust, placing my sword between us when it tried to turn the thrust into a slash. If it's blade lingered on mine for more than a second, the metal began to glow. I already had one sword break due to heat damage and I doubt this one would do so at such a convenient time. 

But, as I shouted, Aela made to fire off another arrow. It slammed into the Deathlord's neck, but it paid no mind as it drove me to retreat up another step as my counter attack was harmlessly diverted. That was… annoying. A thousand year old corpse was better at fighting than me. "This is my fight. Don't get involved," I shouted at the both of them, making Farkas pause. They were warriors and I didn't know how else to make sure that they weren't killed with a word. 

Retreating a final step so we stood at the top platform, I jerked my leg out of the way of a swipe that would have taken it off. I was cautious of attacking, forced to dodge and divert. I was faster and stronger, but it had better gear and skill. One swipe of that sword and I would lose whatever it hit. 

A drawn out fight wouldn't work to my advantage. As if to agree with me, the Deathlord's blade bit into mine again. Gritting my teeth, I twisted the blade, scraping off the flat as I went in, trying to take it's advantage away from it. My shoulder slammed into its head, my hand reaching out for the gauntlet that held its sword, only for my hand to falter before I could grab its wrist. The opportunity passed me by, but… 

The only way I could explain it was that I had a deep certainty that I would regret it if I tried to touch those gauntlets. Was this my perk Instinct? I didn't have a better explanation. 

Right. That made things difficult. I had to target the gaps in his armor, but there was a pretty big issue with that. They were the obvious places to attack, and the Deathlord would expect it. Then it would use those attacks to kill me. I knew it. Not because of Instinct. I knew it simply because that’s exactly how I had killed Zanis. 

My eyes flickered to Aela and Farkas, who watched the fight. This was going to be a pain to explain, but I’d rather explain than die here. 

With that thought in mind, I darted forward, only to cut myself off when the Deathlord’s lips moved once again. 

“FUS!”

I threw myself to the side, knowing that if I got hit by that then I was dead. This time, I saw the word of power shimmer through the air as it raced by me. It only lasted a split second before the word ripped through the sarcophagus that the Deathlord was buried in before it slammed into the Word Wall. It reduced both to rubble, dust flying up as it filled the large cavern as the word echoed like a clap of thunder. 

I rolled to my feet, putting thoughts of what that would have done to me if it hit out of my mind in favor of focusing on the fight. I reached into my inventory to pull out my Stormbreaker, so I carried a weapon in each hand. My previous attempts at dual-wielding hadn't been pretty, but I wasn't going to fight with both weapons. 

With my warhammer, I would be able to attack anywhere to deal with some damage because bone would shatter wherever I struck. My Raider Sword was a sacrifice to protect my Warhammer and me. 

I felt my face twist into a snarl as I strode towards the Deathlord, my warhammer grip choked up until my hand was just underneath the sizable head. My eyes widened when the Deathlord's lips moved again, only this time it wasn't to release an Unrelenting Force. 

"Su!" The Deathlord shouted and in response, the wind began to circle around its weapon. It took me a moment to place the shout, but my stomach sank like a stone when I realized what it was. Even still, I strode forward and as I neared, I lashed out at the Deathlord. And the Deathlord responded in kind. 

It's greatsword slammed against mine and in the same second it diverted my blade, the blade twisted as it lunged forward. I only realized I had been cut when I felt a searing hot pain on the inside of my arm as I batted the greatsword away with the tip of my Warhammer. In a blur that eerily reminded me of how Ryuu moved, the Deathlord slashed at my exposed stomach and if I hadn't taken a step back, I would have been gutted. 

Elemental Fury. I only ever used that shout to speed up mining in the game. 

But, in the end, it changed nothing. Clenching my jaw, my right arm lashed out with my hammer as I raised the sword in my left hand. Its blade slammed into mine hard enough that it shaved off the tip of my sword. It was because of that reason that it  nearly took my arm off. It would have if I hadn’t jerked my arm back and lunged with my sword, so instead, I was only sporting a deep cut on my forearm that didn’t bleed because it was cauterized. 

I deflected another blow, diverting it away from my body, and again I tried to lash out at the Deathlord while aiming for its head, following what a lifetime of zombie movies had taught me. In a blur, it’s blade smacked my blade to the side, which only drove me to lash out with my hammer while its sword was preoccupied. Its head tilted out of the way of the strike that would have taken its head off its shoulders. And so began the current game of cat and mouse. 

After a few short clashes, the tomb filled with the harsh sounds of metal hitting metal, my sword glowing in multiple spots, the Deathlord suddenly switched to the offensive. It’s blade lunged to my chest, and the moment I tried to counter, it flicked it’s wrist to force me back right onto the defensive. I guess it realized what I was going for -- it was fast enough to keep up with me, but there had to be a time limit. 

And I’m guessing we were nearing it. 

A fierce smile found its way onto my face as I dove right back into the fight. The Ebony blade flashed forward, racing towards my neck, only to flick down towards my heart, and then nowhere near me as I smacked the blade to the side. Like a snake, the blade recoiled before it lunged for me again at speeds I struggled to keep up with. But I could keep up with them. Ryuu was faster than this when she was kicking my ass.

I sucked in a deep breath, ignoring a sharp pain as it’s blade cut through the flesh on my forearm in favor of lashing out. The Deathlord moved to intercept, except this time it didn’t make it in time. The white wind that circled the blade vanished. It was still fast, faster than any normal human could manage, but compared to before, it moved at a snail’s pace. The blue light that served as it’s eyes looked up at me, it’s lips starting to move. 

Only for it to be eternally silenced as my Stormbreaker slammed into the side of its head hard enough that it was ripped from its shoulders. The dwarven metal remained strong, absorbing the blow, but the head itself was pulverized. My eyes followed it, waiting for the exact moment that the blue light faded, leaving behind empty eye sockets. As the head clattered to the ground, the Deathlord’s body slumping over, dead, and the Ebony greatsword clattered to the ground… only then did I let myself let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. 

“I did it,” I marveled, looking down at the corpse. I did it without having to get myself stabbed to make an opening, or relying on a cheap shot. We fought toe-to-toe, and I won. Admittedly, I probably should have died when it hit me with a Fus, but that was neither here nor there. “I won.”

“Aye, you did,” Farkas remarked, walking up the steps, looking as stunned as I felt. “I was damn near certain that I would be feasting in Sovngarde tonight when I saw it was a Deathlord. I never expected you to be able to handle it. Alone.” 

“How are you alive?” Aela questioned, eyeing me with a far more cynical eye. Which was fair enough. I glanced down at myself to see broken chainmail and pieces of armor hanging off of straps, then I glanced at the wall I hit. There wasn’t a cartoonish outline of my body, but it had too much in common with one for comfort. “And where did you get that Warhammer?”

Right. Here came the awkward questions. “I’m a fast healer. It’s a big part of why I don’t have any scars,” I explained, my gaze landing on the few cuts that the Deathlord gave me. They were a dark black all the way down. They burned, but it was manageable. “The warhammer came from a magical pocket dimension that I picked up about a month ago to store my stuff.”

Aela blinked while Farkas shrugged, accepting that with uncaring ease. “Huh. Wait, so why did you bother with the wagon then?” He questioned, ignoring a look from Aela, who seemed to be struggling with the truth with much greater difficulty than Farkas. 

I shrugged, making a show of putting my weapons away into my inventory in front of them. “It’s something I figured I’d better keep a secret. I don’t have an issue with magic, but I know most of the inhabitants of Skyrim don’t care for it.” 

Farkas cracked a smile as he nodded at that, “Heh. Well, you aren’t wrong there. I don’t care for any kind of enchantments, but I can see that something like that would be pretty useful.” Then he turned his attention to the corpse of the Deathlord. “Not that I would complain anyway. That was a fight.” He commended, sounding like that was the highest praise he was capable of giving. 

Aela looked like she had more to say, her eyes lingering on where I was hit with the shout, but she nodded in agreement. I let out a soft breath, relieved that they weren’t making a big deal about this. I had hoped the fact that Skyrim was such a weird place that a personal pocket dimension wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, and it seemed that hope paid off. 

“He’s right. It was your kill, so it’s belongings are yours by right,” Aela stated, glancing down at the corpse. That’s what I wanted to hear. My hands tore at the scraps of armor that clung to my frame, the hunks of metal now useless. I could reforge my armor with enough time by feeding it back to the Hestia Armor but why would I when there was such an obvious upgrade?  

I took a step forward, stepping away from the scrap steel armor, leaving most of my upper torso bare. Taking a seat at the top step, I grabbed a hold of the gauntlet, anticipating something, but instead I felt nothing. Was my feeling wrong, or did they only do whatever gave me that bad feeling in combat?

Keenly aware of their gazes on me, I pressed the dwarven metal to the edge of the Hestia Armor, and as I hoped the gauntlets began to melt away to become chainmail and plate. I noticed the difference immediately -- the plate armor was thicker, noticeably so. I eyed the suit of armor and realized I wasn’t going to be able to replace all of my armor with dwarven metal. Which was a shame because now I would have to pick which parts would be dwarven metal and what would remain boring steel. 

“So,” I started, looking up to see them watching me feed the metal into my regrowing suit of armor. I really hoped that whatever enchantments were in the armor would transfer over. “Werewolves?” I asked, deciding now was probably the best time to clear the air. Farkas looked like he couldn’t care less about any of my unusualness, but Aela was a different story. I doubt she suspected I was from a different world or anything like that, just that I was noticeably different. 

Aela grunted as she nodded, “We are. Normally you wouldn’t learn of this until much later, but the Circle, the highest-ranked members of the Companions, are werewolves. And we expect you to keep this a secret,” she said, a threat unspoken in her voice. All things considered, that was more than fair. 

“So, what I’m hearing is that I’m in the Companions?” I asked with a cheeky grin, earning an amused huff from Aela as I moved on to the next piece of armor. The top chest piece was different then it was before, I noticed as the shape of my armor started to form. Was it in response to that devastating blow I took? 

“As if there was any doubt. You had my vote when you were tearing through bandits. Killing a Deathlord in single combat? I would have said it was impossible,” Farkas said and that caught my attention. I knew of Deathlords in a rather abstract sense -- they were a foe that appeared when your level hit a certain number to avoid dungeons becoming cakewalks. I’m guessing that wasn’t the case here. 

“Thanks… but what was with that one? The draugr at the start were nothing. The honor guard wasn’t much better, but that one was in a league of its own,” I asked, looking between them, then down at myself. I had a hard choice before me -- I didn’t want to look like a slapdash mix of dwarven metal and steel, so I had to figure out a way to make my armor look somewhat nice. Which was a problem because the design had changed and I had no clue how much. 

“Deathlords were legendary warriors before they died. So, you usually find them with stuff like that,” Farkas explained, kicking the corpse lightly. 

“Which is part of it, but the mages that preserved their corpses perform a ritual to strengthen the body as well. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that they are stronger in death than they were in life,” Aela said, giving me an odd look. But it didn’t take more than a second to figure out why. I had just killed a legendary figure that was stronger than they had been when they made their legend. 

“Usually, when one’s found, it requires a prepared team to deal with them. If you didn’t deal with it, then we would have rounded up the Circle to fight it,” Farkas added. 

“Are there a lot of these things?” I asked, mulling that over. A Deathlord was a challenge. The first real one that I've fought so far. That was reassuring that my physical abilities wouldn't plateau here. Though, that did mean that the high-end variations of enemies existed. 

Aela shrugged, "No one knows. Most who stumble upon one don't make it back to tell the tale. There are a few that are kept in record. I have no idea if they're still there, but only fools or the well-prepared attempt to fight Deathlords and their ilk." Then she gave me a look before she inclined her head at me. "I'll find out where they are when we get back to Whiterun." 

"Thanks," I said, tearing off the armor from the corpse. The Hestia Armor really was something else. Even the pieces of leather were cannibalized and reset in my newer armor. And that didn't go unnoticed. 

"That armor is impressive. Where did you get it?" Aela asked and, after the questions she asked last night, I recognized that she was fishing for information. And I couldn't exactly tell her the truth. 

"In a place called Orario. A master smith named Hephaestus crafted it for me at the request of Hestia. My lover," I explained, giving her the bare bones of a story. Whatever she came up with, I would just have to run with. 

"A master smith? Eorlund Gray-Mane would like to take a look at it in that case," Aela commented. "There's no finer smith in all of Skyrim, so he would like to compare notes against a southern smith." I couldn't tell if she was taking a shot in the dark about where I came from or if she was making an assumption since Skyrim was as north as you could go. Either way, I didn't correct her. 

And, as the conversation lapsed, I stood up with my now reforged armor. It held a different look. My left arm was covered in black adamantine, but the bulk of my torso was made of dwarven metal. I noticed that while the plates were thicker, around my stomach they were segmented. Wanting to best protect my internal organs, that's where the bulk of my Dwemer metal was spent. Covering my heart with the copper-colored metal, everything else was left steel since there wasn’t enough to make a full breastplate. 

I checked my inventory and saw no bonuses for the armor. Meaning that the enchantments hadn't carried over. That was annoying as all hell, but I guess it wasn't too shocking. 

Lastly, I turned my attention to the real prize. The Ebony greatsword that was left still curled in the corpse's hand. I pried it out of it, the fingers refusing to budge for a moment. As if the corpse didn't want to part with the weapon in its final death. Even still, prying off the too stiff to be normal fingers, I gripped the sword. 

Featherweight applied to it so the greatsword felt like it weighed nothing. It was warm to the touch, the long blade covered in a dim magical fire that gave off no smoke. I gripped it with both hands and realized that the grip was perfect for me. 

"Heh. I'm guessing that we're going to go find something to test your new sword on?" Farkas chuckled and it was only when I went to respond that I realized I was smiling. 

"Yeah… yeah, we are." 

…

In my joy at receiving new weapons and armor, I hadn't realized that I forgot to check my gains after the fight. I forgot all the while we stripped the dead, taking everything that wasn't nailed down and stuffed it in my inventory. Two hundred sets of armor in various stages of repair, jewels, to ancient golden coins. I continued to forget after we cleared out the Silent Moon, Halted Stream, and White River Watch bandit camps. 

It was mostly because I kept finding new prizes. Like lunar metal that was more powerful underneath a full moon. Or enchanted gauntlets that likely increased two-handed skill. Or, the true prize, the book for the Transfiguration spell. 

I forgot all about it because once I cracked that baby open, I had a startling realization about magic in Skyrim. It was wild as fuck. It was more than a blue bar that fills up at the bottom of your screen, some type of internal energy that is used to perform acts of magic. I’m not even sure I understood what it was, but how it functioned was basically…

Well, it was basically you bribing the fabric of reality to ignore the rules for a bit and let you do some really shady shit to the laws of physics and science. The bigger the bribe, the longer it looked away. 

Naturally, transforming iron into silver, then silver into gold required a rather large bribe. More than I was capable of giving with my comparatively low Intelligence stat. And, all things considered, I figured that I should wait until I got an actual teacher before I started fiddling with the fabric of reality.

“You know that spell is banned, right?” Aela pointed out as I pushed the wagon loaded up with loot while reading. Whiterun neared after we crossed the bridge and it wouldn’t be long before we reached the city once again. This time significantly richer. Altogether, I would have enough money to set up another four mines without having to take out a loan. And that was just from the loot. 

"What?" I questioned, looking at Aela, who nodded at my book. "Like, don't show it in public banned or off with my head for having it banned?" 

"The latter," Aela answered with a teasing smile. "Transmutation is a crime punishable by death. Otherwise gold becomes worthless." 

I looked down at my book on how to turn iron into silver for a long moment before I dog-eared my page and shoved it into my inventory. Aela laughed, likely thinking that was the end of that, but it wasn't. It just meant that I needed to have an excuse for why I was producing so much gold. 

I found several deposits as we traveled the Hold. Mostly iron, but that wasn't all. There was silver, gold, moonstone, corundum, quicksilver, and orichalcum. Some deposits were too small to bother with a large production, but others were sizable. Sizable enough that the only way they hadn't been tapped was because there was no visible ore on the surface like there was in the game. Otherwise there wouldn't be a massive silver deposit located pretty much adjacent to Whiterun without anyone claiming it. 

Now that I didn't have anything to read, my gaze lingered on the nearing gates of Whiterun. "Hey, Farkas, you said that people were looking for honest work? Do you think that they'd be interested in mining?" I asked, glancing over at the shorter Nord. 

I was warming up to the guy. He was a bit simple, but direct and honest. And given how my last attempt at Bromance ended with Welf, I was hoping to at least make one guy friend. 

Farkas seemed to give it a moment of thought before he shrugged his shoulders. "Probably, but unless you establish a mining town around the mine, you aren't going to get much luck. It's too dangerous for most people." 

I nodded at that, mulling it over and the action didn't go unnoticed by Aela. "Do you intend to start mining all over the Hold?" 

"Maybe," I admitted. "I might go to Riverwood to order some wood, start building some mine towns around the place where I found some ore… might make it worth the Jarl's while sending out more patrols to keep the roads clear. Especially now that we cleared out the worst of the bandits." 

"I've heard worse plans," Aela stated with an uncaring shrug of her shoulders. With that, I let the topic drop as I mulled over future possibilities. We neared the gate of Whiterun before a guard held up a hand as we approached. 

"Hold there. We'll need to inspect your cart," the guard said, slowly leaning his head back as I neared. "Would… that be a problem?" He asked, taking in the look of me. 

"Go ahead," I agreed, moving away from the cart loaded up with stuff. I wanted my inventory to be a well-kept secret. Walking into a city empty-handed then continuously pulling out things to sell -- maybe no one would notice, but maybe someone would. It seemed like a pointless risk when all I had to do was pull a wagon for a bit. 

The guards began shifting through the mountains of stuff on the wagon. The found mammoth tusks, jewels, fine furs and clothing -- pretty much the choice stuff we found in bandit’s loot rooms along with their weapons and armor. However, I felt the need to speak out when they neared a basket. 

"There are a couple of heads in there. Bounties," I explained, making the guard pause before he pulled off the top. He looked at the three heads inside, then at me, then at Aela. 

"It's true. The roads will be a lot safer for now," Aela confirmed with a nod of her head. 

"Then you have the thanks of every merchant in Skyrim my exceedingly tall friend," spoke an accented voice from behind me. I turned around to find a Khajiit standing behind me. I blinked in surprise, looking at the first member of the species I had ever seen. 

A catlike face looked back at me, an almost lion's mane of gray fur served as hair and a beard, matching the short fur that covered his face. Instead of wearing Nord fancy clothing, the Khajiit wore thin robes that were tied together at the waist with a deep red sash. His face was twisted, revealing hints of long teeth that ended in a wicked point. But I didn't think he was snarling at me, but smiling instead. 

"I am Ri'saad, one such merchant," he introduced himself before his golden eyes drifted over the wagon filled with loot. "And I see it that the bandits you felled were unfortunately very successful." 

"Jericho," I introduced myself. "The roads west of here have been cleared out, and we took out the ones in White River Watch, so the way east to Riverwood should have cleared up." I explained, guessing that the information would be useful to him. Ri'saad's eyes lit up for a second, clearly pleased. 

"Most wonderful news! We have been stuck outside of this city for too long," he said, not so subtly glancing at the guard that continued to search my cart. "It seems I must thank you twice over for this. I worried that we would be stuck in Skyrim for the winter," he explained, theatrically shivering at the mere thought of it.

And before I could get a word in, he continued. "Ah! I know it is a pitiful offering, but perhaps I could make an offer on your recently acquired goods at a good price for you, my friend?" Ri'saad offered, giving me another smile that was filled with too many sharp teeth. 

I blinked, glancing at the wagon before I gave him a half-hearted shrug as I stepped out of his way. "Sure," I agreed without much care. The items I knew were worth real money were kept in my inventory, and I wanted to see if he would try to cheat me. Khajiits got a bad rap as thieves and skooma dealers, to the point that they were discriminated against. I had an idea of what the contents of the wagon were worth and I wanted to see if he would follow through with what he said. 

After all, Lili had mentioned I should make connections with merchants. 

It was kinda hard to tell with the animalistic facial expressions, but Ri'saad lit up like a kid on Christmas before he practically skipped over to the wagon. The guard that was searching my wagon made it a point to look over the Khajiit as he went through the pile of stuff, making sure nothing was stolen. All the while, another guard walked up to me. 

"Your wagon is clear, but the Jarl gave us orders to tell you that he wishes to see you if you returned." The guard informed, sounding certain that I was the Jericho that the Jarl wanted to see. And fair enough, I guess. 

"Thanks," I told them before I settled in to wait for Ri'saad to pick out the items that he wished to purchase. But, it was clear that was going to take awhile when the Khajiit began inspecting the jewels one by one. 

Farkas got my attention, "You shouldn't keep the Jarl waiting. I'll stay here until you're done, then we can head to Kodlak and give him the good news." At that, Aela nodded in agreement. 

"I want all of us to see his face when he hears that tale. We'll need your proof if he's ever going to believe it." Aela commented with a slight smile. And I'm guessing that when I got there, we would have a much more serious talk about the secrets that had been revealed to me. I'm guessing they were only giving me this much rope either because they trusted me, or because they were trying to give me enough so I could end up hanging myself with it. 

"I appreciate it. I'll be back as soon as I can," I said, flashing them a smile before I continued into the city. I walked through the busy streets, towering over everyone. There was an air of tangible excitement in the air that hadn't been here the last time. And nervousness. I could see it on everyone’s faces, a sense of uncertainty. 

Something had changed. 

I made my way through the marketplace, noticing how the crowd got thicker as I made my way to the next district. There were more guards posted at the gate. A lot more. Easily a couple dozen standing like a solid wall to prevent entry. There was a loose crowd that gathered up at the base of the steps, but only a couple dozen. Others lingered nearby, but… if I had to describe it, the crowd was the aftermath of a crowd.

Meaning that I missed whatever had changed. 

To my surprise, I didn’t have to introduce myself. As I walked up the steps, they seemed to realize that it was me and parted to let me pass. I glanced behind me to see that a few had rushed to follow me up, shouting curses until their words jumbled together. My view of them was blocked as the formation closed, but two things were clear amongst the curses. Talos and Empire.

Frowning, I walked deeper into the next district and my gaze landed on something that wasn’t there, but should have been. In the small garden-like area where there should have been a statue of Talos standing with his foot on the neck of a dragon, there was nothing. The entire statue was gone. And, alarmingly, the guy that stood in front of the statue shouting how great Talos was also wasn’t there. 

“Did someone steal the statue?” I asked, my frown deepening as my feet carried me to the Cloud District. That hadn’t happened in the game, but I already knew I couldn’t trust meta-knowledge. Even still, that begged the question of who would steal a massive statue of Talos in the middle of the city? The Thalmor? 

Given that the statue was gone rather than reduced to rubble, that seemed like a safe bet. And given that they were trying to inflame tensions, it seemed likely even. 

“I hope that guy isn't dead,” I muttered to myself with a small shrug of my shoulders, wondering if the Jarl wanted me to find out who stole the statue and to get it back. There was only one way to find out, so with that thought in mind, I approached the keep. There was a sizable detachment of guards standing in front of the gates, like the place was ready for an invasion. 

“My name is Jericho. The Jarl wanted to see me?” I introduced myself as I approached. The guard didn’t move for a moment, staring downward at my stomach for a few seconds. Then a guard standing next to him thumped him on the shoulder, breaking him out of whatever trance he was in. 

“Hm? Oh, judging by the look of you, you’re certainly that Jericho fellow… the Jarl is waiting for you inside.” The guard informed me, sounding distracted and I didn’t think he heard a single word that I said. That was raising some red flags. I stepped into the keep, trying not to show that I was expecting something to go horribly wrong. 

It was as massive as ever, I thought as I walked up the stairs as while the doors behind me slammed shut. My mind began to conjure up explanations for the weirdness I was seeing -- from something horrible happening to Daedric influence, to some basic lore that I never learned about in the game biting me in the butt. 

Instead, as I reached the top of the stairs, I was hit with a presence like a sack full of bricks. A presence that I had grown used to over the past month, but one that I hadn’t expected to feel outside of Helgen. 

“Hestia?” I asked, searching for my goddess, only to find no sight of her. Just empty tables, and the room illuminated by a burning fire in the hearth. Even the throne was empty. Cautiously, I walked forward, an ill feeling settling in my gut as I abandoned subtly and grabbed hold of the warhammer that was hooked onto my back. 

I heard the footsteps above me before I heard a voice speak, causing me to whip around in time to see the source. And, the moment that I saw him, I knew exactly who it was. Even if I couldn’t believe my eyes. 

A man in his later years judging by the wrinkles that gathered around his eyes and the amount of salt in his closely groomed beard. What gave away who he was were two things -- the long but old scar that slashed across his neck and the winged helmet that he wore on his head. He wore simple chainmail that went down to mid-thigh underneath a blood-red cloak and decorated leather wrist guards.

He looked down at me, placing his hands on the railing of the second floor. His dark blue eyes seemed to burn a hole right through me with their intensity. 

“There’s no need for that,” he spoke in a low raspy voice only an octave above a whisper, but it carried like he was screaming at the top of his lungs. I felt the power in his words. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I was damn near certain that if he told Skyrim to jump, the kingdom itself would ask how high. What’s more, he carried himself as if he expected that response. 

“Talos,” I spoke, barely believing it. This sure as hell hadn’t happened in the game. 

“That is one of my names, yes,” Talos agreed with a nod that more or less took my game plan behind the barn and gave it a dog's death. “And you are Jericho. Lover of Hestia, the Tenth Divine.”

Wait. Hold the fuck up. 

“The Tenth Divine?” I echoed, the words hitting me about as hard as the Unrelenting Force. What in the hell happened when I was gone?! I left Helgen like yesterday! What the actual hell was going on here? “Hestia is the Tenth Divine? How- what-” I started, only to realize that I would get nowhere unless I composed myself. And rambling like an idiot in front of an actual god was probably a bad idea. 

“Why has Hestia been made the Tenth Divine?” I asked, earning an approving nod from Talos. Which, unlike the gods back in Danmachi, carried more than a little weight. 

“Your goddess has given a substantial gift to the Aedra… but, first, come up here. As I am now, you deserve more than to have me talk down to you,” Talos whispered. My gaze flickered to the stairway to the side, but I ignored it in favor of crouching down and gathering my strength. 

Then I jumped, sailing upwards despite my incredible weight, and easily cleared the railing of the second floor. As I landed, I saw that Talos wasn’t the only one up here. Jarl Barguulf sat in a chair, looking faintly stunned, but all things considered, I couldn’t be sure if that was even because of me. Sitting next to him was Kodlak, who’s eyebrows rose high at my entrance. 

Right. “Jarl Balguuf. Harbinger,” I greeted them both. And I don’t think either minded much when I quickly turned my attention back to the actual god before me, who looked mildly amused with my entrance. 

“I see what Hestia meant. Will all warriors in my… ‘familia’ display such physical abilities?” He asked and it took me a solid few seconds to swallow that tidbit of information. Talos said the word familia. Meaning that he intended to start a familia. Meaning that familia’s are going to be a thing. 

Holy shit, what happened while I was away?!

“Eventually,” I spoke, still struggling to accept how radically different this had turned out. “Once they break through their personal limits, they’ll level up. Depending on how high they raised their stats, the higher the boost they’ll receive when they reach level 2,” I explained, earning a swift nod from the god. 

“Interesting,” Talos remarked, his eyes raking over me for a moment, sizing me up. “But, to answer your question, the Goddess Hestia decided to share her arcanum with the Aedra, empowering them. Us, I suppose. The Eight aren’t as powerful as they were before the creation of Nirn, but they’re stronger than they ever have been since.” 

There was only one question on my mind, but I already knew the answer. Why would she do such a thing?

Because she would want to help the Aedra. Because she wanted to help people in general. Because Hestia was a far better person than I could ever hope to be and wouldn’t think twice about making that sacrifice. It was like the old story about her -- how the Hestia of my world sacrificed her seat at Olympus to prevent any infighting about Dionysus’ ascension. 

“What does it mean that she’s the Tenth Divine?” I asked, forcing myself to stop thinking about what happened, and instead focused on what would happen now. 

Talos gave a very helpful shrug, “It depends. She will be worshiped as the Goddess of Hearth and Architecture, and her blessing can be bestowed on any who wish it. Beyond that, it is unknown to me. What I do know is that the falna she brought to our realm will spread across the world as the Aedra intend to form these familias,” Talos explained and that opened a whole new can of worms. 

“All of them?” Jarl Balguuf spoke, sounding torn between awe and confusion. 

“Not all,” Talos answered. “Akatosh must remain behind to maintain the barrier that separates Nirn from those Daedra that don’t wish to walk amongst mortals as one of us-” Talos seemed to catch himself before he shook his head slightly, “walk amongst mortals as one of you. Julianos has chosen to remain behind as well.” And with that, even more cans of worms were opened. Holy fuck. I thought Alduin would be the biggest issue that I had to deal with.

I wasn’t the only one that noticed that bit of information either. “The Daedra walk Nirn as well?” Koldak asked, his voice quiet and thoughtful. I figured that sentence should have been spoken with a great deal more of panic given how well the few times that Daedra had attempted to walk Nirn in the past went. 

Talos nodded, “As mortals, no different than I do. So far, Azura, Clavicus Vile, Malacath, Namira, Nocturnal, Sanguine, and Sheogorath have chosen to leave behind their divine power. But, I suspect that the others will join them eventually.” I ran through the list that he gave and found that it could be far worse. Far, far worse. 

The worst on the list was Sheogorath. If Talos said Bolag Bal had descended then I would have started to panic. 

And now I had those pieces of information, I tried to picture what would happen next. I had a better idea than most, so it was easier for me. The Aedra and Daedra would begin to build their familias, establishing themselves in this world. The Aedra and some of the Daedra would be forces for good, but some certainly wouldn’t. 

When Mehrunes Dagon descended, I was certain that it was going to be with the end goal of the destruction of the world. The same with Bolag Bal. Their cults would serve as a starting point for their familias and in time they would grow into powerful threats. Especially if the path to power that I intended to take was available. 

“How many of them are in Skyrim?” I asked, wondering if there was something that I could do to undercut the worst of them. I was a step above most already and I was an experienced adventurer. And without their divine powers, the gods were vulnerable. I couldn’t kill them, but tying them up and locking them in a closet was a possibility. 

“Most of them. Malacath has gone to Orsinium. No one knows where Sheogorath will end up. Namira has gone to Morrowind. The rest, both Aedra and Daedra are in Skyrim,” Talos answered, looking at me with a piercing gaze. “For here is where the question shall be answered.” 

Alduin. In six months, the can that was kicked down the road would land here. I didn’t just have to be ready for him, but for dealing with the gods as well. 

As if to sense my thoughts, Talos reached up and grasped me by the shoulder. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but he was rather tall, close to 6’6 or thereabouts. “Hestia has a great deal of faith in you, and we’ll see if it’s misplaced or not.” He spoke, not giving me any kind reassurance, but to affirm what I had resolved myself to do. 

I was going to kill Alduin the World Eater. And I had six months to get ready for his first appearance, or I would be stuck fighting off minor dragons until the deed was done. 

Talos nodded at me, but now it was time for the elephant in the room. “What are you going to do?” I asked, and was quickly echoed by Jarl Balgruuf. 

“The Empire needs you more than it ever has. With Ulfric threatening open rebellion, it’s only a matter of time before Skyrim plunges into war. The Empire itself is falling apart at the seams. It needs strong leadership -- it needs you,” Jarl Balgruuf spoke passionately, standing up from his chair, his tone almost pleading. 

Talos looked at him, withdrawing his hand to face the Jarl before he shook his head. “No,” he answered the unspoken question. “I won’t be Emperor again. My time has passed. I forged the Empire with blood and corpses and shit. Even when it was new, I knew the Empire wouldn’t be eternal and I’ve resolved myself to see it fall apart if it comes to it.” 

He shook his head, “No. If the Empire is to be saved, then it will be saved by those that live within it. It will be someone else that must step up to take up the reins. If no one does, then it will crumble and be forgotten.” Talos decided, making Jarl Balguuf slump into his chair. I felt much the same. If there was ever a clear leader on who should be the Emperor, then it was the man who was raised to godhood for forging it. 

It was the easiest way to pull the Empire together… but I guess that was his point. If he became emperor again, then he would be the Emperor forever. Simply because Talos was immortal, like all gods, and who could fill the shoes if he felt like stepping down?

“Oh, and before I forget -- Hestia gave me a message to give to you,” Talos informed, changing the subject. “She said not to worry, and that she has everything under control. Do what you came here to do, then come home.” He gave me the message, a knowing grin tugging at the edge of his lips. 

I failed to muster up a response, all of this catching me thoroughly off guard. I didn’t even know where to begin. The gods walked Nirn. 

“But, for now, I will leave you. I’m sure you have a great deal to discuss,” Talos said, giving the three of us a firm nod. With that, he turned around and made a far less dramatic exit as he headed to the stairs. The three of us watched him go until he disappeared from sight. Despite his words, none of us spoke as we stared at the spot we last saw him. 

I mulled over everything that I had just learned, trying to think of how this could change things. In the end, I came to a simple conclusion. 

“There’s no way this ends well.”