Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Conjure It At Your Own Risk ❯ Dragon Fighter Miki ( Chapter 6 )

The descent from Riverwood to Whiterun the following morning found us at Dragon’s Reach palace by noon. I slowly carried the heavy stone to Farengar and uncovered it on his desk.

“Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow. I see you are a cut above those the Jarl usually finds for me,” he sneered. If he wasn’t useful for buying spells, I am fairly sure I would incinerate this arrogant man. I prayed to God for patience.

“What about my reward?” I reminded the fool, fiddling with the stone.

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow? Good job,” commented an older woman in leather armor. Then she left and the bodyguard, Irileth, showed up demanding Farengar and I follow her because the dragon is attacking the western watch tower.

Balgruuf thanked me and gave me a light hide helmet with some magic enchanted on it. I stared at the helmet, thought of all I’d been through to get it here, then handed it to Sofia without a word. She put it on. I’m seeing a pattern in the Skyrim character, and gratitude is something they are unfamiliar with.

Then he ordered us to go slay a dragon.

“Why me?” I asked.

“You were at Helgen, so you have more experience than the others. Go with them and your efforts will be rewarded,” he insisted. I raised my small eyebrow.

“Like how you rewarded us for delving into an ancient tomb filled with mummies and traps with a small hide helmet?” I asked. He blinked, not expecting that.

“What is a mummy?” he asked, confused.

“Nevermind. Whatever!” I cursed and stormed away. Nords!

Irileth eagerly rushed out of the Dragonsreach palace and down to the front gate guardhouse, where she proceeded to give a speech about death and glory missions to the six men she’d ordered to come with us. Some of the guards looked like they were making their final prayers and one whispered: “we are sooo dead!”.

Then it was out of the gate and down through the stables and into the wide plains, where smoke rose in the distance to the West. The tower grew taller as we rounded the bend and so did the fires and damage in front of it. I could see at least two familiar burnt lumps of what used to be people, one of them still sizzling from dragon flame.

“This looks bad, but there’s no sign of the dragon about,” Irileth started, looking really excited about the prospect of fighting a real live dragon instead of bodyguarding her Jarl.

We moved towards the tower.

“Here it comes again!” shouted a guard from the tower base. I looked around, spotting a giant bat-shape in the sun near the top of the mountain nearby, several miles away. Big, grey colored, and not the same one I’d seen before.

I cast my flame atronach summons in front of me and considered my own options. Cover would be useful. I moved into the tower and climbed the stairs to a landing. There was a fire burning there, and a hole in the side with a good view. I cast frost onto the fire, briefly putting it out and making the stones crack with the temperature change. Then I readied an ice spike. The dragon flew over and one of the guards blew a horn at it. The dragon howled and then there was flame and one less guard. It did so again after a pause. It was maneuverable, very agile for its size. When it went past my window I nailed it in the wing with an ice spike but it just kept going. My atronach was lighting it on fire, though it did less damage than I’d hoped. I readied another ice spike and fired it as it hovered outside the window and inhaled. I expanded my defensive barrier to cover myself and steadied it before it took the brunt of its flame breath. It held, barely, then the dragon moved away. There was a huge thump outside the tower and cries to various gods for aid. The sound of teeth and I descended the stairs, only to see a guard in the tower’s base firing arrows outside get incinerated. My shield saved me, again. There was a huge gust of air and the dragon was flying once more, and two more guards on the ground. I put at ice spike in the dragon’s belly before it disappeared around the tower.

It was avoiding me. Interesting. There was more lances of flame and another thump on the other side of the tower. I climbed the stairs and spotted it flaming a guard with a steel war hammer while Irileth struggled to heal her injuries with magic. I nailed it in the head with an ice spike, then a lightning bolt for good measure.

“Dovahkiin? Nooo!” the dragon cried out. It could speak. And then it collapsed, seemingly dead. I descended the tower.

“Something’s happening! Stay back,” Irileth warned her surviving guard. I approached, sensing a massive soul magic buildup. It erupted and surged into me, along with magic, memories, strength and vitality, its history of thousands of year as an apex predator with cult worshippers and human sacrifices and then the long silence of a tomb, a bright demand by the black dragon I’d seen at Helgen, and some fun torching a tower. The scales and guts of the monsters evaporated, leaving the bones of its skeleton, and various objects foreign to it, some of them enchanted. I picked up an enchanted elven shield and a dagger I could use, passing the shield to Sofia.

“I can’t believe it! You’re… Dragonborn!” said a guard who’d run all the way from Whiterun. Several others joined him, in awe at what they’d just witnessed.

“Star-born, actually, but they’re kinda similar,” I corrected.

“It’s true what they say in the oldest tales. Try to shout!” he urged. I considered, but gave it a try.

“FUS!” I shouted, and the skeleton rocked back from the magic in my voice. Sofia started babbling about how impressed she was, and how many free drinks she was going to get telling people she helped the Dragonborn kill a dragon. That was probably true.

“So you really are Dragonborn!” repeated the guard. Irileth got prodded into commenting by the guards.

“I’ve been all across Tamriel, and seen many things. Here is a dead dragon. That is good enough for me,” she concluded. I collected some dragon scales and a few of the lighter bones as crafting supplies, a few enchanted armor pieces, and ignored the junk, then began hiking back up the hill to Whiterun. It was around twenty minutes later, near the stables that a giant wash of sound boomed over me.

“DOO VAAHH KIIIN!” it thundered. Everything shook. The horses whinnied.

“Frau Blucher!” I yelled back. The horses whinnied uncomfortably. I nodded, satisfied. Some things are constant.

I entered the city, stopping to sell some armor and weapons to the blacksmith with the daddy issues, then slowly climbed up to the palace and entered. Jarl Balgruuf was looking smug, gave a speech about how proud he was, how much he wished he was in my place to climb the tallest mountain on the entire planet, and visit the Greybeards with a truly reverent look on his face. Then he told me I was his thane and gave me a two-handed great axe made of some weird metal, and said I could buy a house if I wanted. I had gold, but not nearly enough.

I sighed, leaving the palace and descended the stairs. The sun was going down. I managed to get to the local general store and offload the dragon scales and bones for some serious coin, but again, still not enough to buy a house, and went next door to the apothecary, where I put together several potions, which were the critical amount. Lighter of unnecessary junk, I returned to the palace with a big sack of gold and bought the house, returning with a new housecarl in tow. Sofia eyed the girl with obvious jealousy and spiteful commentary, something the teenage girl gave back with interest. Ah, yes. This reminds me of how my older sisters in the Carpenter household behaved during certain times of the month and their mother wasn’t present to stop the escalation.

The interior of Breezehome was underwhelming. It was a shack inside. No decorations. No furniture. There was a bed and a chest to store stuff in. There was a firepit, but no fire or place to cook food. And it had cost 5000 septims, for this? Was I scammed? Did I just get scammed?

I stored lots of junk in the one chest and joined Sofia at the inn for a meal and drinks. Nord mead is made of honey, but it’s only a bit sweet. Most of the sugar goes to the alcohol, which keeps it from spoiling. For a while, anyway. Much like ale, it doesn’t keep for long so a town probably turns up when a new batch is served. Considering there’s an actual meadery across the river I’d walked past getting here, twice, there was considerable demand for it. It was okay. As mead goes, it was okay. I’ve had the good stuff, the kind armies of Asgard preferred. I’d seen Dad’s old girlfriend drinking it on a visit.

Dad’s new girlfriend, Molly Carpenter, explained that situation to me, and her status as a Lady of Winter Fae gave her a peculiar magical aura. While she’d been out of the house most of my time with the Carpenter family, and training into a competent battle mage as a candidate for Winter Lady under the Leah Nan Sidhe, a position she eventually took, willing or not, she was kind enough for her remaining humanity to speak plainly to me during my teen years. With my body reverted back half a dozen apparent years, she might have some hilarious commentary. Probably something like reliving my childhood, or becoming a legal loli. The first time I heard that I had to look it up. I can read manga, but I can’t watch anime, after all. The heroine of Zero no Tsukaima would be a fine example of that word. Louise de la Blanc de la Valliere. Valiant White, with explosion magic. And a terrible temper.

I was ruminating, I realized. It appears this mead is stronger than I’d thought. I opted not to finish the tankard and ordered a bit of venison, bread, and cheese. Oddly, the venison left me feeling stronger and more able to wield a bow, the cheese improved my magical capacity and recovery rate. I shouldn’t be surprised that food is a potion here. It is so saturated with magic in the first place, I’m ridiculously strong compared to many of the so-called mages here. I wonder if those at the College of Winterhold would prove to impress me?

Sofia was having a good time, but Lydia opted to follow me back to my house, Breezehome. I noticed her room was fully furnished with bed, wall hangings, dresser, stuffed animals, war trophies for archery and a sword and board competition, plus several pairs of shoes. It smelled of armor polish. I sighed.

I may be ripped off but I still need to decorate this place. With my skill in alchemy, I should be able to find enough good materials to brew enough value to pay for it. Just imagine how ridiculous the pay would be for the thieves’ guild or the guild of assassins. Approximately the same as the cost of a couple sets of armor, assuming I could improve my bartering skills. That is… likely. But those guys? Killing people for money? And it isn’t even much money? That’s stupid.

“Good night, Lydia,” I offered. She nodded, closing her door. I undressed and went to bed, wishing I had a tooth cleaning spell. Maybe that’s in the same book as the one to repel fleas and lice?