「Alert: Overall Level Increased」
「Level 10 -> 11」
He hadn’t gained a perk point.
Not completely unexpected, but Athias couldn’t deny that the anticipation which usually came with waking to a level up window was severely dampened. There wasn’t much to be excited about if he didn’t gain anything from it.
It'd be inconvenient if it turned out leveling up no longer gave him any perk points but he had another way to gain them.
With a thought another dark blue window appeared to replace the level up alert. An achievement list. Something he gained access to after reaching level 10.
A lot of the demands were outrageous or flat out impossible at the moment.
[Achievement: Dragon Slayer]
[Description: You’ve gathered both strength and resolve and slayed a being few mortals throughout history can claim to have felled.]
[Condition: Kill a dragon]
[Reward: 1 perk point]
[Achievement: Arcane Mastery]
[Description: Mortal lives are short, gone in the blink of an eye. Those who try to do everything, ultimately end up doing nothing. You’ve gone against that perception.]
[Condition: Learn a master rank spell from every school of magic.]
[Reward: 1 perk point]
[Achievement: Trespasser]
[Description: Mortals are less than ants in the face of the Daedric Princes. To make an enemy out of one would be idiotic. To enter their domain uninvited? Suicidal. To do both requires an unbreakable will.]
[Condition: Infiltrate a daedra’s realm of Oblivion and live to tell the tale.]
[Reward: 1 perk point]
Kill a dragon? If they weren’t buried in the ground and their leader lost in the flow of time, he wouldn’t even be able to scratch their scales. Learn master level spells? He only knew basic restoration and pyromancy; fulfilling that would take a few years unless he dedicated every waking second to the study of magic and that was low balling it. Go to Oblivion? He wouldn’t last seconds, with or without the involvement of one of the daedra.
And the rewards were absolute bullshit. One perk point for insane shit like that? Thankfully, there were more manageable alternatives.
[Achievement: Mage of all trades]
[Description: Alteration, Illusion, conjuration. Destruction and restoration. You’ve sacrificed progress in one to dabble in all.]
[Condition: Learn five novice level spells from each major school of magic.]
[Reward: 1 perk point]
[Achievement: Dwarven Hobbyist]
[Description: You’ve bared witness to a Dwarven ruin: remnants of the Dwemer who are said to have vanished from Tamriel overnight. Their technology is far beyond that of any other society’s for reasons unknown.]
[Condition: Explore a Dwarven Ruin]
[Reward: 1 perk point]
[Achievement: Well Traveled]
[Description: You may not have explored every nook and cranny of Skyrim but you’ve been to every single hold in the land. That’s more than most could say.]
[Condition: Visit every hold in Skyrim]
[Achievement: 1 perk point]
They were by no means easy but at least they weren’t asking him to do things that far beyond what he was currently capable of. With time and a bit of dedication he’d be able to see those completed; depending on how quickly he picked up new spells he might be able to take a risky dive into a dwarven ruin and scope out the levels of the automatons.
Squashing his disappointment, Athias gathered up his armor, preparing for the long road ahead.
Hopefully they got to Markarth without a hitch and there was a court mage there with tomes for sale.
----------------------------------------
The Reach was a different type of natural beauty compared to Falkreath.
Rolling grassy mounds interrupted by mountains of jagged rocks that at times pierced through the clouds above, their uppermost areas obscured. One flowing river ran through the hold, often splitting around the tall land masses and rejoining on the other side. The roads, made up of the same sparsely laid stone used in Falkreath, ran alongside the base of the mounds and mountains, broken up by bridges that stretched over the waters below.
As the carriage rolled across a bridge and fell beneath the shadow of another mountain, Athias frowned, neck craned upwards. He wouldn’t call this a ravine. The river separated the mountains enough that they didn’t feel closed in, an easy target for a pincers attack.
That didn’t mean they weren’t an easy target in general.
People could be hidden on the rocks above, prepared to drop an avalanche of arrows and spells on them. In theory he could throw up a ward big enough to shield the entire cart. He had the magicka reserves for it. He wouldn’t trust it though. It’d burn through his magicka and he honestly couldn’t speak on its durability despite the tests he’d run here and there; a few arrows from Auri and the snarling maw of the odd wolf didn’t exactly compare to a bombardment of spells.
He caught a glimpse of red hair.
Auri, on Thistlefoot, traveled across the upper portions of the mountain, not far behind them. That antelope she called friend might not be strong enough to carry two people very far but the agility at its disposal was a thing to behold. Together, those two kept watch for anyone and anything above them.
An arrow from her signaled a stop. Two meant an immediate danger.
She was their only real defense against an ambush, though, Athias had a feeling she volunteered for the role to avoid creating any tension in the carriage.
While Frem sat at the front, guiding the pair of dark horses that pulled them along, Athias and the breton sat at the very end across from one another, the merchant’s boxed cargo -covered by a thin black fabric- taking up most of the space.
At first he hadn’t given the woman a second thought, but as time stretched out, the scale of the land eclipsing the playground provided by the game, he paid a bit more attention to her, bits and pieces of information picked up here and there.
Originally from High Rock, she’d paid Frem a hefty enough sum for the traveling merchant to take her along his travels through Hammerfell and now to Skyrim. He wasn’t so sure about the noble status though; some things supported it, others made it seem far fetched.
Light brown curly hair, greenish-hazel eyes, and relatively soft features; there was no denying her looks. The light narrowing to the shape of her eyes and subtle sharpened tips of her ears -produced by the diluted elven blood all bretons carried- set her apart in this land.
So far, noble enough.
The high ponytail she spent every morning styling her hair into always ended up a mess, stray strands and bangs free to frame her freckled filled face. Her clothes, a white button up shirt with the sleeves pulled back to her elbows and dark pants rolled up to her calves, were fitted as if meant for rough traveling rather than the luxuries nobles got up to. There were still aesthetic choices that got in the way of that such as her heeled boots and the cloak around her waist. At worse, they were a liability. At best, they served no purpose.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Athias kept his cloak in his bag now that they were in a hold with warmer temperatures. Maybe if it was enchanted he'd consider wearing it but it served no purpose now.
Was she a noble or not?
The answer to that didn’t so much interest him as the things she carried.
She had a dagger at her hip of dwarven make and when she wasn’t nose deep in a book, toyed with parts bearing the same bronze look as the weapon.
Now he couldn’t assume she went delving into old Dwemer ruins. He had two swords traditionally used by High Elves; like him, she could’ve easily bought all that stuff.
The three scars that marked the skin below her left eye made him think that just might be the case though.
Bored noble turned adventurer? A researcher with backing from High Rock? Or just some random nobody with a passing interest in a lost civilization? All possible.
Honestly, he could’ve just asked the two and had the whole mystery cleared up but this speculation was his only source of entertainment.
Much like riding on horseback, Athias realized he didn’t like being confined to a carriage over the past few days. So many obscure trails and distant dilapidated structures had been passed by as they moved between holds, but he wasn’t free to go after them and satisfy his curiosity, bound by his need for money to get more tomes.
Probably for the best. He was liable to run into some forsworn in these mountains and learn first hand just how vulnerable his birth-sign made him to magic.
Still boring though.
“Maybe if I adjust this…” The woman muttered to herself, messing with a object made of metal rings shaped into a sphere. It took him a moment but he was pretty sure he recognized it.
“Is that part of a dwarven automaton?”
The woman continued to toil away at the cogs and other mechanical parts of the object with dirty gloves, his question ignored or unheard. The shake of wagon didn’t do a thing to pull her out of the work.
Athias didn’t mind, content to watch the work and theorize about her intentions, occasionally looking up to see if he could get a glimpse of Auri.
Several failed attempts later, the breton lowered the parts with a groan. Her back straightened and her eyes widened slightly when their eyes met as if she only just realized he was across from her.
“Oh, um, hi?” She said, full of uncertainty. “Were you…talking to me?” He nodded. “Oh, sorry. I tend to get really involved with my work. Did you need something?”
“That’s a part from an automaton isn’t it?”
“Yep. More specifically, a spider.”
“What are you trying to do with it?”
“Trying to get the hunk of junk working, ideally, without attacking me. I’ve managed to reactivate one before but they always stop working once they’re on the surface.” The woman explained. Genuine frustration beat back the uncertainty she held herself with as she took another look at the object.
“Maybe there’s some type of programming to keep them from operating outside of ruins?” Athias said, mostly spit balling. The Dwemer, their disappearance, and their technology were all things he considered to be rather obscure lore. Some might’ve disagreed, but in his opinion, as interesting as all that was, their ruins had been used as glorified farming grounds for souls gems with a few quests here and there to lead down into them.
A bit of a letdown really.
“I’ve concluded as much myself. The Dwemer were smart enough to build things no one can replicate; they would’ve had security protocols in place to keep others from using their technology against them.” She agreed. “Overriding them is the problem. I’m not completely certain how the Dwemer managed to encode the behaviors their automatons follow so its all trial and error.”
“Why not try adjusting them then? That’s bound to be easier than getting rid of the restriction entirely.”
“I’m trying that as well. It’s still a matter of trial and error…..that usually ends in error.” The breton said with a grimace that seemed almost fond. She lowered the automaton piece, her eyes analyzing him several times over. “Are you a Dwemer researcher?”
And he probably should’ve kept his mouth shut. What sort of adventurer knew terms like programming in a world driven by fantasy rather than technology?
A well read one of course.
“Just an adventurer.” Athias said nonchalantly. “I hear that Skyrim was home to a number of Dwemer ruins so I did some reading on them before coming here.”
“Really? Do you mind if I take a look at this reading of yours?”
Time to align the story with what Auri believed….he wasn’t going to be able to talk about much in this world without lying in some fashion would he?
“Things got a bit desperate when I crossed into Skyrim. Long story short, it was colder than I expected and I had to burn a few things.”
She stared at him, face blank. “You had books referencing the Dwemer automatons and you….burnt them?”
“Skyrim’s mountains are harsh. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to survive.”
“I suppose but burning them? Do you at least remember the titles and their authors?” Athias gave her a telling smile, the exasperated woman’s disbelief almost as high as when she learned of Auri’s dietary habits. “Your life is more important than books….I guess.”
Athias chuckled. The last bit sounded like she was forcing herself to read off a script, no belief in her own words. He liked it. It was a lot easier to understand someone who didn’t cover up their feelings with faux smiles and emotions.
“You must be skilled with magic if you’re going into those places.” Athias said.
“Try the opposite. I know a few basic spells but I’ve never been good with magic.”
Huh. A breton with subpar magical skills. Did being surprised by that make him racist?
“Then you must be skilled with that dagger?”
She forced out a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m good enough to get by. At least I think so.”
So she was horrible at magic and barely confident in her ability with a blade, yet she was going into ruins full of moving machines that could reduced the most able bodied of explorers into ribbons? That’s not to mention the Falmer he recalled roaming their abandoned depths from time to time.
“How are you alive?”
“Rude.” She said with a huff. “As long as the automatons don’t realize you’re there they can’t register you as a threat.”
“That sounds incredibly reckless.” Athias pointed out. He, of all people, should know. “I respect it.”
“Respect it? That’s a first.”
Athias opted to shrug.
She was risking her life to pursue something that she was passionate about; to look down on or criticize that would be nothing short of hypocritical coming from him.
The smartest thing he could’ve done was learn just enough magic to prove himself competent then find a way to get enrolled in the College of Winterhold or head to -the arguably more secure- Cyrodiil and find his way into the Mages Guild. From there he’d study for at least a year then emerge to brave the world as a powerful mage with countless spells at his disposal. It was the safe, secure, and logical decision. Others in his position likely would’ve done that.
He wasn’t interested in any of those things.
Magic was it’s own exciting journey, but from his first taste of adventure he knew he didn’t want to give up the heart racing thrill unless absolutely necessary. With a bit of luck, Auri’s sharp shooting, and a few spells he’s managed to take on more than he would’ve thought possible.
Might as well keep pushing that luck and enjoying himself.
----------------------------------------
Within their new campsite, only a few days out from Markarth according to Frem, Athias stood beside his tent, two swords in hand.
In the right, the plain steel sword that came with his pack. In the left, one of the elven blades he had made in Falkreath. He pointed the blades upward and took a breath, focusing.
His magicka responded immediately, racing up his arms and through the blades.
For the steel sword it was as if his magicka hit a stone wall, unable to travel into the blade’s handle. All that rushing magic gathered, slamming against the barrier and flooding into the steel all at once.
The elven sword proved a far more willing conduit, his magicka stalled for mere moments before flowing into the yellowish-gold steel at a much more controlled pace.
He could channel his magicka through them.
At the moment that meant nothing. Athias wasn’t performing any specific spell; he’d leave those experiments for later. Preferably when this escort job was done; he didn’t want to wake anyone up or draw unnecessary attention.
While it wasn’t as efficient as using his bare hands, using the second sword in battle could open up some options if he could cast spells through them. Someone might dodge a slash from him expecting to have an opening, only to be on the receiving end of a stream of scorching flames.
There’d be downsides such as not being able to block as effectively and reducing his overall magicka efficiency but those could be mitigated if he picked up other skills. Enchanting and potion making to be specific.
He couldn’t wait to get the Markarth.
“Is that some sort of ritual?” Auri asked, seated on some rocks above him that overlooked the camp.
She had found them a spot flanked on either side by a single oddly shaped mountain. It’s sporadic rock formations provided suitable overhead cover though it had been a bit of a tight fit for Frem’s carriage. While they weren’t likely to be found, the dirt trail they took blocked by the little natural foliage of the region, if someone did attack them there’d be no fleeing.
“Just doing a little magicka training before I get some shut eye.” Athias explained. They’d already swapped out for the night so he should be asleep while Auri took up the role as lookout, but he’d been taking a little time to practice this alongside his other spells.
A decision not without consequence as he’s found out.
[Mentally burdened]
[Description: Prolonged concentration and focused use of your magicka has dampened your cognitive abilities. Continued magicka use above a certain degree will worsen the effects.]
[Effects: Maximum magicka reduced by 10% and magicka regeneration slowed by 25%]
Normally his magicka felt free as a bird, quick to respond to his direction. Now it felt like it was slowed down by shallow waters; still fast but not as swift as it could be.
Practicing novice level spells never left him with this effect, but he never felt any resistance with those exercises. The status effect wouldn’t truly be a problem until he started learning more difficult spells if that pattern held.
“Plan on shooting fireballs from your swords?” Auri teased.
“You say that like it’s a joke. You’ll be feeling pretty stupid when one of those fireballs saves your life.”
“If.”
“When.” Athias insisted. This was good practice. It was far harder to keep magicka flowing through the blades while talking. “I’ve still got to pay you back.”
Auri hummed in amusement, dangling her legs over the rock’s edge as she returned her gaze to the pitch black darkness around them. The mountain blocked both of the moons’ light from illuminating the area.
“What do you think of that woman?” Auri suddenly asked.
“She’s an odd one.” Athias answered without a thought, mostly focused on the blades. For once the breton had eaten alongside them and had spent the entire time trying to pick his brain for any information he had on the Dwemer. He gave vague answers, mostly just affirming what she already knew. It’s not like he was the go to guy on that subject in his original life so anything that came from those memories were questionable. She had taken extra care to keep Auri out of her sight during that time. “She doesn’t hide what she’s thinking that’s for sure.”
“What about Frem?” Athias asked after Auri didn’t say anything. “He’s paying us quite a bit. I wonder if everything he sells is legal.”
“I’m not sure I believe all the stories he spins during our meals but I like him. If he is doing something against the nords’ laws, I hope he doesn’t get caught.” Of course Auri’s ethics put those she took a shine to above the law. He didn’t expect anything else; he’d taken a bit of a liking to the older man as well.
If Frem was planning to spread his name all over Skyrim like he claimed they might run into him after this escort was all said and done.