Power Corrupts: Dirty Dealings (ch. 44) (Patreon)

I was lucky I was wearing a helmet, or the great big smile on my face would have been really misunderstood as I hacked through a necromancer. His ward spell shattered like glass underneath the force of my blow and the flimsy black robe went up in flames as I cut right through him. I darted forward, fire washing over me, but I ignored it as I crushed a shambling skeleton's skull before pushing through the flames to skewer the offending mage. 

The flames died along with the mage, revealing my form. My armor was so fucking cool. Black mist swirled around the armor, making me blend in almost seamlessly with the dark hallways of a half-collapsed fort. Aela and Farkas had both confirmed that if it wasn't for them already knowing I was there, then they wouldn't be able to see me. Meaning, in dark places -- like half-collapsed forts -- I was practically invisible. Meaning I could be a near eight-foot giant that just appeared out of the shadows. 

It was wrong, and probably a little cruel, but the moment of 'oh shit' on people's faces had yet to get old when I just seemed to materialize from the shadows. I shouldn't be enjoying it as much as I was, but it wasn't like the mages would be able to tell anyone. 

My footsteps were soundless because of Featherstep, but I had never been more aware of just how much noise my armor made until it became silent. If it wasn't for all the water in the half-collapsed fort, I would be as silent as a ghost. It was weird to think that I could ever be considered stealthy, but with the armor and a few perks, I was as silent as the night. And I loved it. 

My thoughts were interrupted when the crackling of electricity rang in my ear. I reacted instantly, holding up my sword as a shield and watched as bolts of lightning streamed towards me. The smell of ozone was almost enough to drown out the smell of mold and corpses. Lightning streamed forward like water, absorbed into my blade but I barely felt a thing. What I did feel was the force of the lightning hitting me, but no numbness or a jolt. I wasn't sure entirely, but my working theory was that ebony wasn't conductive. 

Regardless, I wasted no time darting forward across the flooded room to close the distance between us. Just in case he figured out that lightning wasn't effective before moving on to something that was. The mage stumbled back a step, tripping over a stone hidden in the water, and I slashed to the side. Arcs of electricity hit the water and stone for a brief moment before being abruptly ended when I bisected the final necromancer. 

The shambling skeletons and corpses collapsed where they stood, robbing Farkas and Aela of their enemies. Both looked more disappointed than relieved. Farkas sheathed his new ebony sword while Aela holstered her ebony bow -- we had the top of the line gear now. 

And, as I sheathed my sword, the black ebony armor was reduced to mist before retreating into the Hestia Armor. The mechanics were weird, but when I used the Ebony Mail, it seemed to just replace the armor I was wearing. It didn't convert it or anything because I still had the same armor even if I wore nothing underneath. 

"Jericho… what's that?" Farkas questioned, pointing at the source of the issue. He pointed towards Azura's Star, which laid in the lap of a skeleton, one hand wrapped protectively over it, as both resided on a throne that resided on a platform that kept both dry in the flooding room. The star itself looked damaged -- the crystal was black, designed in the shape of an artistic star with some kind of metal added on to protect the joints. It didn't do a good enough job considering some parts of the Star were chipped off. 

"That," I said, walking forward towards the Star, "is Azura's Star." I went to go pick it up before thinking better of it. If there was ever something that you boobytrapped, it was the most powerful soul gem in existence. So, I took out my sword, pinching it between two fingers, and poked at the skeleton. 

"I- as in the Daedric Artifact?" Aela questioned, caught off guard by the revelation. 

"Another one?" Farkas asked, standing next to me as I carefully extracted the Star from the skeleton's grip with my sword. "In Falkreath Hold? What are the odds of that?" 

Not as small as one would think, I thought to myself. There was a Daedric Artifact in every hold, with some holding two. And with a final flick of my wrist, I freed the Star. Knocking it over and catching it with the flat of my sword, I brought it away from the skeleton to inspect it. 

"So that makes three Artifacts in your direct possession," Aela noted as I hesitantly grabbed the Star, careful to grab it by the bits with metal. I recalled that actually touching a soul gem was bad for soul related reasons. 

"Three?" I questioned, looking over its surface in the low light. I had it. Now it was just an issue of learning enchanting and finding a way to cleanse Elephant's soul from it to restore it. Which I could do by ruining the Star and taking it to that guy in the College, or I could hunt down Azure to see if she had any options. 

"The Hestia Armor, the Ebony Mail, and the Star of Azure," Aela explained, and I guess the Hestia Armor would count as an artifact. Huh. 

"Well, the Hestia Armor kinda ate the Ebony Mail, so I'm not sure if it counts," I said, which was why I was taking such care to not touch the Star with my armor-clad hands. I still didn't understand what had happened between the Hestia Armor and the Ebony Mail. What I did know was that I doubt Bohemia would be very happy with me if she ever found out, and that made me leery of corrupting the Azure Star. I didn't want to have two Daedric Princes out for my blood because I wrecked their stuff, even accidentally. 

"I'm sure it still counts," Farkas reassured. 

"When has such a thing happened before? The Daedric Artifacts, not to mention Wuuthrad… it is like you attract ancient and powerful artifacts," Aela breathed with a small shake of her head as if she could barely believe it. 

For the Artifacts, I had metaknowledge and for everything else? Lucky Loot. It might have been a mistake not picking Dragonborn, but so far it has paid off. I had ebony weapons with powerful enchantments and more money than I knew what to do with. 

"The Hero of Kavach," I pointed out before I decided to bite the bullet and shove the Star into my Inventory. Thankfully it wasn't a bag of holding inside a bag of holding scenario and everything was fine.

"The who?" Farkas asked, blinking at me. And earned a bewildered look right back. Then I recalled that the Thalmor had pretty much stolen the credit for ending the Oblivion Crisis from the Hero of Kavach and Martin. Still, I was surprised that they had done such a good job of it that people apparently didn't remember who they were. 

"A traveler who shut an Oblivion gate outside of Kavach during the Oblivion Crisis. The first one to be closed. They just walked right in and closed the thing. And they later became the Champion of the Fighters Guild, Champion of the Arena and Archmage of the Mage Guild." I explained, making both Farkas and Aela share looks. "I'm not making it up," I defended. 

"We didn't think you were. It's just odd that such a warrior would not be better renowned," Aela explained with a shrug of her shoulders.

"The Thalmor," I said and understanding flooded their gazes. 

"Ah, that makes sense," Aela conceded. 

"We can gripe about the Thalmor later. Let's get out of this ruin. All the leaking water is making me nervous," Farkas said before he made his way to the exit. Thinking that was a fair point, we followed and stripped the place of anything that could be described as loot as we walked. Having a limitless inventory really was great -- I would never have to pick between loot. I could just take it all. 

Once we were greeted by fresh air, I saw that the sun was drifting towards the horizon and the sky was beginning to darken. It had been a few days since we left Falkreath -- I couldn't just head straight here, so we wandered the Hold in search of answers to the missing peasants. But it wasn't like it was lost time since we cleared out bandit groups, dangerous animals and so on. The Hold was probably safer than it has ever been before. 

"We should get moving-" I started, glancing over at Aela and Farkas, to see them giving me looks. “Or… not?” I ventured, wondering what was up. We were almost at the finish line and we could get back to Falkreath by the morning if we left now. 

“Jericho, you might be able to keep smelling like roses after three days of nonstop fighting, but we can’t. I’m not going anywhere until both me and my armor stop smelling like rotting flesh,” Farkas pointed out, bringing my attention to the gore that covered his armor. Most of it was new, but there was a fine layer of it caked over his skyforge steel armor. I looked over at Aela to see that she more than supported the idea. 

“If you’re going to become Thane of the Hold, then you should be presentable before you arrive. Knowing Jarl Siddgeir, he’ll throw you another feast in your honor,” Aela said. I saw what she was doing, and I had half a mind to brush the concern off to the side. What stopped me was both Farkas and Aela looked tired. They slept in the wagon, but in bursts and I can’t imagine it was comfortable. 

I was running them ragged, I admitted to myself. Because I didn’t need to sleep or eat, and I was pushing them to keep up with my insane pace. 

“Alright,” I agreed with some reluctance. “There’s a river that feeds into the lake not too far from here that we can use to rest.” I decided not to admit that I was hoping to get moving after a quick bath and maybe a bite to eat. I couldn’t when both Aela and Farkas appeared immensely relieved, even though they were trying to hide it. 

“Lead the way,” Aela gestured, and I brought us to a large river that ran out of the mountain that we had slain the Dragon Priest in. All things considered, the water was probably some kind of endless spring meant for the Dragon Priest but because of the spiders, the water was diverted and turned into the lake over thousands of years. Either way, the river was deep and there was a scenic waterfall for ambiance. 

Not a bad place, all things considered. 

“I’ll start a fire,” I informed as both Aela and Farkas wasted no time stripping off their armor. While Farkas jumped into the water with a splash before he vigorously began to clean himself with a bar of soap. Aela chuckled at the sight as she began to clean off her armor with a rag and a brush. 

I gathered up the logs and started the fire with little issue. Then I pulled some food from my inventory and started cooking. I was hardly a professional, and it was my first time cooking with a fire, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was a serviceable meal. By the time it was done, Farkas was done with his bath and walked out of the water looking like a new man. 

“Is not needing to eat a familia thing?” Farkas asked suddenly as I cleaned my own armor while he and Aela ate. 

"More of a me thing," I explained, looking at the surface of the Dwemer metal and seeing my reflection. In the end, Aela was right. I did need a bath. There were soot and dirt smudges that had gathered over the past few days. "Certain experiences can create certain skills. Like Lili's Aerial Assist that lets her carry bags that weigh more than her a hundred times over, or my Berserker skill that increases my strength proportionate to my rage." 

"You don't strike me as the berserker type," Aela remarked, sounding surprised by the revelation. My mind went back to that moment where I ripped Zanis's spine out -- not because I needed to, but because I was so enraged that I decided he didn't deserve a clean death. 

"I haven't had much reason to get pissed," I answered with a shrug. "And it was before I leveled up. Now most things that would have absolutely kicked my ass, which would have pissed me off, are annoyances at best." 

Aela seemed to process that knowledge for a bit. I stood up and shoved my armor into my inventory, "I'll go take a bath. Shout if something happens," I said, wandering towards the waterfall while Farkas grunted in agreement. The sky began to dim as I approached a tall waterfall. It was surprisingly loud, but given that hundreds of pounds of water were falling every second, it probably shouldn't be. 

My gaze lingered on the waterfall, a thought striking me as I entered the water. With a mental shrug of my shoulders, I swam through the cold water towards the waterfall. Then, in true monk style, I placed myself underneath the waterfall. Water pounded down on my head and shoulders, battering down on me with powerful force. Just not enough to make me give up the makeshift shower. 

Sitting on a rock that had been carved by the waterfall for thousands of years, I crossed my legs and let the water flow over me. Before I leveled up, the force would probably be enough to bruise or break bone, but now it was kinda refreshing in a way. I wonder if my stats were going up?  

One way to find out. 

Jericho

Level: 29

Title: Under Leveled

Health: 2860

Magika: 125

Progress to next level: 138,500/180,000

Strength: 133 (+151= 284)

Endurance: 180 (+225= 405)

Dexterity: 139 (+169= 308)

Intelligence: 104 (+77=181)

Sense: 158 (+240= 398)

Resistances:

Physical Resistance: 30% (10% due to Durable, Toughness and Oakskin perks)(15% due to Endurance)

Abnormal Resistance: 65% (50% due to Super Immune perk) (15% due to Endurance)

Fire Resistance: 15% (15% due to Endurance)

Cold Resistance: 65% (base 50%)(15% due to Endurance)

Skills:

(General)

Gamer Body (100/100): The user’s body is that of a video game.

Massage (55/100): Skilled hands make targets tension and exhaustion melt away. 

Kissing (65/100): An intimate act between lovers that, if done well, can bring pleasure to the target. 

Sex (50/100): Greatly enhances parameters when engaging in sexual intercourse. (perks available)

Dishwashing (1/100): Stains and dried on food are easier to remove.

Cooking (1/100): Creating delicious meals with ingredients.

(Combat)

Footwork (18/100): The basis for all martial talents. Effectiveness is determined by Dexterity.

One-handed (25/100): Governs your effectiveness when using one-handed weapons, including daggers, swords, maces, and war axes. 

Two-handed (20/100): Governs your effectiveness when using two-handed weapons, including greatswords, battleaxes, and warhammers.

(Armor)

Heavy Armor (25/100): Governs your ability to move and fight in heavy armor. (Perks Available)

(Stealth)

(None)

(Magic)

(None)

(Thu’um)

Unrelenting Force (0/100): Your Voice is raw power, pushing aside anything - or anyone - who stands in your path.

Dragonrend (0/100): Your Voice lashes out at a dragon's very soul, forcing the beast to land.

(Crafting)

Woodwork (7/100): Craftsmanship involving wood.

Stonework (10/100): Craftsmanship involving stone.

God, my progress felt slow. But all things considered, given how high my stats were, it was good progress. Strength slowly went up due to the wagon. Endurance as well, most of which came from fighting while poisoned by the Ebony Mail. A whopping ten stat points. And given how Endurance had barely budged with me sprinting all over Skyrim, that was telling how bad the poison effect was. 

Likewise, it also confirmed my next step. I had to find ways to weaken myself. And, even better, I had a good way to do it.

I had two sets of armor -- my Dwemer metal and my Ebony Mail. They could be switched with a thought, making it perfect. I could enchant my Dwemer armor with enchantments to make me weaker, and when I ran into something that required a stronger touch, I would break out the Ebony Mail. Best of both worlds. 

It was also best to spread out my updates as I thought. The stats I had ground wouldn't go into effect until Hestia updated my falna, so it would be smart to hurry up and get some bad enchantments on my armor. 

Beyond that, my skills were going nicely. Two-handed was almost at the point where I could get a perk, Heavy Armor was already there. The success was overshadowed, however, by the lack of any progress with the Thu’um. Not a single point of progress and I had been practicing as much as I could. Yet there was nothing to show for it. So, while it seemed that I could learn the Thu’um, I wasn’t going to see much progress unless I got a tutor. 

Meaning that I had to stop by the Greybeards. Or find someone to teach me -- my options were Talos, who was off doing whatever god-emperors did when they weren’t being an emperor, the Greybeards, or Ulfric, which was problematic and the last option. 

My magic tab was also depressingly empty. I did have two spellbooks -- Transfiguration, and Soul Trap which I had picked up from the necromancers. However, neither one had a direct benefit at the moment. Soul Trap would when I had soul gems that worked or knew how to enchant, and transfiguration was great except for the fact that I didn’t need more money. I had reached the level of wealth that I was actually refusing more money. 

A sigh escaped me as I cracked my neck, letting the waterfall massage my body. There was just so much to do and it felt like there was so little time to do it. 

“That can’t be comfortable,” I heard Aela shout over the sound of water hitting the ground. I opened up my eyes to find that the sky had darkened completely, telling me that I had drifted off, so Aela must have been checking on me. Then as my eyes adjusted to the darkness after a quick second, I saw that very much wasn’t the case. 

Aela sat on the same stone that I was, her body twisted to look at me. Her red hair was pushed back, sticking to her body due to the water, her face was cleared of the war paint she usually wore. That wasn’t the only thing missing. Her clothes were as well, revealing her pale breasts capped with dark pink nipples that were pebbled from the cold water and air. Her stomach was flat with abs etched into the surface, water dripping down her smooth skin. 

“Uh,” I started intelligently, blinking at the sight that was seared into my mind thanks to Perfect Memory. Aela’s lips curled into a sly smile when she saw she had rendered me speechless. “I know we’ve been flirting a bit, but I didn’t expect this,” I admitted. 

“You should have,” Aela remarked, her eyes roaming me as I left the waterfall. Her eyes drank me in, though they lingered on my crotch where blood swelled. “Skyrim is a harsh place. Other places there is time for drawn out courtships and flowery speech, but here? We say what we mean and what we want.”

Fair, I guess. I had figured that the whole marriage thing in Skyrim was because the devs couldn’t be bothered to write dozens of romance plots. “I know you said that there’s nothing between you and Skjor, but-” I started, walking forward and taking a seat next to Aela. When I did, she interrupted. 

“If there was something between me and Skjor, then we would be wed. I meant what I said -- when we feel the need, we take comfort with each other,” Aela explained, and I could hear the question of why I hadn’t jumped her bones already in her voice. “That’s all.”

“I’m just making sure. I saw that look between the two of you, and with how Farkas talks… well, there’s a difference between hunting and poaching. I just want to make sure it’s the former,” I explained, and I nearly smiled at the look of annoyance that crossed her features. 

“I… don’t believe he harbors feelings for me. Skjor is a Nord. If he wished to wed me, then he would have said so.” Now she sounded slightly less certain. Then she narrowed her eyes as she moved to cover her breasts, “If you don’t find me agreeable, then you should simply say so.”

“I didn’t say that,” I quickly reassured. “Aela, you’re beautiful and you kick ass. I’d have to be deaf and blind not to be attracted to you.”

That seemed to sooth her a bit, but she still sent a frown in my direction. “Then why are you finding reasons to not lay with me?”

“Because of Hestia. She approves of you -- she wouldn’t have offered for you to join the familia if she didn’t. But… are you going to join?” I asked her, leaning back and using my hands to prop me up. I looked up at the stars for a moment, feeling the opportunity to have sex to slip me by, but I couldn’t say that I regretted it. 

In contrast, Aela withdrew her legs from the flowing river and curled into herself. There was a beat of silence before she let out a sigh that was nearly lost in the sounds of the waterfall. “To me, the Companions have always been about honor, glory, and the hunt. Ever since I joined the Circle, I’ve believed that being a werewolf was simply a part of that. But since my talk with Lydia, I’ve started to have doubts.” 

“The Companions have stayed in Whiterun since before its founding, but the first change is always problematic. There are deaths nearly every single time. And some can’t handle the change at all, and are forced to be put down,” Aela explained, just getting something that had seemed to weigh heavily on her off her chest. “Lydia was right -- if we were going to be werewolves and preserve our honor, then we should have secured an isolated fortress. It’s not like Skyrim lacks them.” 

“I figured the Silver Hand had a role to play in that,” I offered, making Aela nod. 

“In part,” Aela agreed. “But if we couldn’t fight them off, then we have no right being called the Companions in the first place…” She trailed off before she let out another deep sigh. “Being a Companion and being a werewolf have been the same thing to me for so long. And being a Companion is what I am. It’s who I am.”

There was a small silence at that as Aela seemed to run out of steam. I gathered my thoughts for a moment, knowing what I wanted to say but not sure how to phrase it. 

“I can’t really tell you what it means to be a Companion. You’ve been one a lot longer than me. But, a Companion is just a title. You said the Companions represent honor, glory and the hunt to you -- you can have all of those things without being a Companion. You can represent those things without having that title. And you can do it without being a werewolf,” I told her. 

“You’re right,” Aela nodded. “You and Lydia are both right. I know that. It just doesn't make it easier,” She said, sounding frustrated that it wasn’t. I guess when you identified yourself as something for so long, it wasn’t so simple to just stop. Then Aela looked over at me, a conflicted expression on her face as she seemed to struggle with the words. I waited patiently for her to continue, knowing that she would get there. 

“But I do want to join Divine Hestia’s familia,” Aela told me. “And… I want it more than I want to be a werewolf.” She decided at last, earning a smile from me. 

“Okay,” I decided with a nod. Aela was going to join the familia. It was odd to think about, but the familia was really growing. For the longest time, it was just me, and then me and Lili, and now it was me, Lili, Lydia, Aela, Farkas and Vilkas. Who knew who else would be added to that list in the coming months. 

“Okay,” Aela agreed, let out a small laugh at my easy acceptance. Her lips curled into a smile, seemingly happier now that she came to the decision. Her eyes lingered on my eyes and it was only because I was paying attention that I noticed that her gaze dropped down to my lips. So, maybe I would get laid after all?

Apparently not when I heard a man’s voice shout out, “Jericho! Aela! Stop doing what you’re doing and get back here!” Farkas shouted, making both of us go still. Just like that, the moment was lost as both of us went into fight mode. I jumped to my feet and eyed the light from the fire some distance away. Aela jumped into the water, intent on swimming to shore. I took two quick steps and launched myself to the shore, just barely crossing the distance and slamming down heavily into the soft dirt. 

Pulling my sword free of my inventory, I sprinted towards the camp, expecting trouble. As I neared, rushing through some shrubbery into the camp, I instead saw Farkas sitting on a log. Who then went to cover Babette's eyes with a hand. 

Babette. The Dark Brotherhood assassin. Who was here, in the middle of the woods, some distance away from Falkreath and the only explanation for her presence being that she had followed us. Somehow. 

"Put some pants on. There's a kid here," Farkas said, still covering Babette’s eyes, the action betraying that he had absolutely no clue who she was. 

"I thought there was trouble," I said, pulling some pants from my inventory and shrugging them on. 

"Depends on how you describe trouble. This is Babette -- she was kidnapped and managed to escape her captors before she wandered into our camp," he said, his tone growing grim, then tense as Aela came rushing up, naked and barring a dagger. He shook his head as he covered his own eyes with his free hand. "Stormcloaks took her." 

I looked at Farkas, then at Babette, my mind racing a mile a second. I couldn't see her face because of his hand -- but she was wearing the same red dress that she was before, only this one was covered in dirt and mud with tears in it. If I didn't know who she was then I would have a doubt that she was just a lost little girl.

But she wasn't. She was a century old master assassin that was also a vampire. 

"What happened?" I questioned, deciding to roll with the story. 

"I was selling flowers in Falkreath -- like the ones you bought, mister! Then when I went to sell them some men, they said I had heard something that I shouldn't have and then they took me away," Babette cried, her voice thick with emotion. "But I didn't hear anything! I promise! I just want to go home!" 

That… was some top notch acting. 

Once Aela was modest again, Farkas and Babaett were allowed to see again. I looked at Farkas, then at Babette, who was looking up at me with a stricken expression complete with a quivering lower lip. Very aware of the actual danger she was, I approached and dropped to a knee to put myself in a position to deal with her if this was a case of her getting caught on her way to assassinate me if someone had paid her better. 

Dropping to one knee, I said, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to bring you home,” I reassured, making Babette sniffle. 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Babette repeated, “Nothing important.” She said, and to Farkas and Aela, that would sound like she was rambling because she was scared that we would finish what the Stormcloaks started. To me, it was it sounded like she was telling me to ask what she had heard. So, I did. 

“Are you sure? Can you tell me what you heard, just in case?” I questioned, earning a shaky nod from Babette. 

“They said something about Nenya, and how they did a good job,” Babette offered, making Farkas and Aela stiffen. I simply blinked in surprise, a previous request making it self known to me. I had requested that I find evidence on who had killed Nenya, hadn’t I? Still, that didn’t explain how Babette had known where to find us. 

I could only think of three explanations. The DB had a tracker on us, which was worrying. Babette had somehow managed to travel with us without any of us knowing, which was more worrying. Or they had known to camp out this road and wait for us, which was the least worrying answer but still very worrying. 

“Could you tell us where the men that took you are?” I asked, knowing that this was a script I had to act out. 

Farkas began to suit up in his armor, as did Aela, while Babette gave me a shaky nod. “There’s a cave not far from here, but there’s a monster in it! They took me there, and then the big monster attacked, and I ran away. But I was only running for a little bit when I saw the light of your fire,” she explained. 

We suited up into our armor, and Babette clung to my side like glue. Aela seemed to find it cute, but if she knew the truth… Either way, we set off into the night. The forest was dark, the canopy above blotting out any source of light coming from the moons above. If it wasn’t for our natures -- a gamer, a vampire and two werewolves, I doubt any of us would be able to see in the darkness. 

Like Babette had said, there was a cave not far off from where we were camped. And the scene that we stumbled upon just screamed stage to me. There were two bodies in the cave, freshly dead and it looked like they had been mauled by a bear. Confidently, there was a bear slumped over with an axe buried in its head. 

“Looks like the bear attacked, killed one and was in the process of killing the other when he managed to get a lucky strike in. He died from his wounds not that long ago. Give it… thirty minutes, maybe,” Aela noted, surveying the scene. Babette hid behind my leg, shaking like a leaf. It was a good act, but I could tell she was lining herself up for a shot at my kidneys. 

What she didn’t know was that I didn’t need them. 

I looked down at the corpse of a young man, whose torso was covered in claw marks. And all too conveniently, there was an edge of a piece of paper sticking out of his tunic near his neckline, spared by the onslaught, if a bit damp with blood. Reaching down, I picked it up and read the smudged bloodstained letter. 

“The Thalmor traitor is dead, slain by the hands of the True Sons of Skyrim. The payment is in the agreed upon place, signed by Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn, the true Jarl of Falkreath,” I read aloud. That was… a very conveniently placed incriminating letter. He even signed his name and everything. Or, you know, the letter was forged. 

But the story made sense. Dengeir was known for being paranoid and seeing enemies in everyone, whether they be Empire or Thalmor. Him assassinating Nenya, who was apparently a Thalmor agent, to support the Stormcloaks, was perfectly in character for him. As far as people to frame, he was a good pick. 

I looked down at the bloodstained letter for a long moment, barely hearing Aela and Farkas speak about the revelation. Something settled on my shoulders, something that I hadn’t really thought about until the wheels were in motion and it was too late to stop them. 

I was about to frame someone for murder. An old man. A paranoid but innocent old man for a crime that I had inadvertently caused. 

It… was going to be okay. The guy was an ex-Jarl and a Thane of Falkreath -- it wasn’t like it was some peasant. He was related to the Jarl, so… I doubt he would get executed, or anything like that. He’ll probably be… banished or put in house arrest, which might be for the best considering how paranoid he was. And paranoia with power never mix well. 

It’s for the best, I decided. 

It was to save the world and who knew how many lives. Surely the quality of life of one old man was worth it? 

…

Falkreath hadn’t changed much in the days that we’ve been gone. The only real change that I could find was as we walked through the city gates, the city seemed subdued. Tense almost. Though, when people saw me pushing my wagon through the city, a look of pure relief crossed over their faces. 

“My lord, is there any food in the wagon that you would like to sell? I’ll buy it at a nice price,” A man greeted me, holding up a coin pouch to show that he was good for the money. I was caught kinda flat footed with the sudden offer. And with how people suddenly looked that much more interested in my wagon when there was the possibility that it contained food.

“Uh, sure,” I agreed, my gaze sweeping over the crowd that suddenly lingered around my wagon at the confirmation. And my puzzlement wasn’t missed by others either. 

“Lord Siddgeir… he’s decided to throw another feast, and he’s seized the stores of his citizens,” the man that made the offer explained, making me blink. “He didn’t take all of it, thank the gods, but he took enough that a great many people are going to go hungry this winter if something isn't done.” 

“Why is he throwing another feast?” I questioned, wondering if this was somehow my fault. Was he throwing another feast in my honor? Because I could do without.

“A funeral feast for Lady Nenya,” the man explained. He shook his head as he sighed, “She was a good woman and a better steward, and I get wanting to honor her, but…”

Aela finished for him, “There’s a time and a place.” To that, the man nodded sadly. 

“Aye, there is. We’ve already had one feast, a lot of the food went to the orcs to get them to leave, and now another feast? So close to winter without any hope of getting another harvest in?” The man shook his head and sighed as Aela looked at me, though not in an accusingly way. 

I could fix this. Each bandit camp was stocked with food. It wouldn’t be enough to last an entire city through winter, but…

“I’ll fix this,” I told everyone, my gaze sweeping over them. “Don’t worry about money. You’re all welcome to whats in the wagon, and I’ll find a way to bring in more food for the city. All I ask is that it goes to the people that need it most,” I said, my voice echoing over the general chatter of excitement. Some people broke down crying where they stood, looking at me with eyes filled with gratitude. 

I turned to Aela and Farkas, who simply nodded as they knew what I was about to ask them to do. Farkas went into the back and grabbed a crate filled with dried meat -- ironically, I had been prepared to sell a crap ton of food to Falkreath. It was just that I had severely underestimated the demand. 

“Thank you, my lord. Divine bless you,” The man said, offering a bow. 

I shook my head. This was… on me. I gave a shit ton of food to the Orcs, then I had inadvertently gotten Nenya murdered. With both events, I did picked the best option that I could -- with the Orcs, they had needed food. With Nenya… that had been unavoidable since she tried to kill me first. But, regardless, I was the one that set this in motion. 

“Could you tell me where Jarl Siddgeir is?” I asked, and earned a nod from the man as a line formed to receive some food from the wagon. I was going to have to figure something out because even if I cleaned out my inventory, it wouldn’t be enough to feed a hungry city. It was just a start. 

“He’s in the keep. The feast has just begun, my lord,” The man informed. I thanked him before I moved on, Babette trailing just behind me as she maintained the scared little girl act. 

“Well played,” Babette remarked as we headed towards the keep. 

I pretended that I didn’t know what she meant. 

Reaching the large double doors, the guards allowed me to pass with no trouble. Pushing them open revealed a familiar scene, but much like the city itself, the keep was subdued. The smells of cooked meat and bread filled my nose, and the sound of music hit me -- but other than that, for a room filled with people, it was as quiet as a graveyard. Familiar faces glanced up at me, some nervous while others were relieved. 

I looked up at the high table to see Jarl Siddgeir-- he looked like absolute hell. His skin was a pasty white, dark bags under his eyes… it looked like he hadn’t slept or bathed since I last saw him, and judging by the cup in his hand that he was guzzling, he also hadn’t been sober. Seated next to him was a man that looked absolutely ancient. 

A long white wispy beard drifted down to his chest, covering most of his face. Deep wrinkles gathered at his eyes, which seemed sunken in, and his head was bald, revealing a large liver spot by his right ear. Given that he was the only other person sitting at the high table, he was probably Dengeir. 

I approached the high table, and Jarl Siddgeir was finally able to see me over the rim of his gobblet. He gave me a drunken smile, “Ah! Jericho! You’re back! With… a little filthy girl… eh… we all have our preferences…” He added with a drunken giggle. There were dozens of people in the room, but you could hear a pin drop. “Are the bandits dead? Have you single handily saved my entire Hold?”

He didn’t seem to recognize Babette, but I was more concerned with how he seemed to be glaring at me. There was anger in his eyes as he smiled a painfully forced smile. I was here to kiss his ass and become Thane, him being pissed at me was a problem. Especially when I could only think of one reason why he would be pissed at me. 

“The bandits at Knifepoint ridge and Cracked Tusk Keep have been slain, dozens of necromancers in Ilinalta's Deep have been dealt with who were kidnapping countless people across Skyrim. And-” I started to continue when Jarl Siddgeirgave no reaction. 

“Your deeds are many and great, Jericho, Thane of Whiterun. And now Falkreath! You, serving girl, give Thane Jericho his badge of office!” He said, smacking a serving girl on the ass unnecessarily hard, which chased her off. Jarl Siddgeir smiled up at me, but as drunk as he was, there was no disguising the hate in his eyes. 

I shifted where I stood. Did he know about my deal with the Dark Brotherhood? Did he know that Nenya was dead because she tried to kill me?

“You just solve problems. All of the problems! Can you solve my current problem, Jericho?” Jarl Siddgeir asked, leaning forward and carelessly shoving a plate of food onto the floor with a thunderous crash to make room. 

I met his gaze evenly. The servant behind him carried a generic looking axe, which I guess was my badge of office as Thane. I considered my words carefully, “I suppose it would depend on what your problem is?” I hedged, making the Jarl give me a cruel smile. 

“Just what I wanted to hear!” He exclaimed as if I had given a confirmation. “Someone,” He shouted, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the room. Including the servant, who he yanked the axe from her hands when she hesitated to give it to him. “In this room killed Nenya. She… she was like a mother to me, and someone murdered her. So, tell me, Jericho, Thane of Falkreath and Whiterun… who killed my mother?” 

Right. I had a real bad feeling about this. But, silver lining -- he didn’t know I was responsible. 

My expression must have betrayed me because his eyes widened dramatically, “You actually know? Who! Who did it?!” He blurted, his surprise turning to anger quickly. 

“When we were on our way back, this girl was kidnapped but managed to escape from her captors. She was taken because she had overheard them mentioning Nenya and the circumstances of their death. Me, Aela and Farkas investigated to find them dead by a bear, but they had this on them,” I said, stepping forward and handing him the blood stained letter. “I-”

I didn’t get to finish because the moment Jarl Siddgeiropened the letter, it looked as if he had been possessed by a demon. His grip tightened on the axe in his hand, and for a moment, I thought he was going to throw it at me. That’s what I was prepared for. Which is why I was just as stupified as everyone else when Jarl Siddgeirbrought the axe down on the old man’s head that sat next to him. 

People screamed in horror, jumping out of their seats but Jarl Siddgeirrounded on them, his eyes blazing with anger as tears gathered in his eyes. The dripped from his cheeks and as angry as he was, he looked more lost than anything. “My uncle. My uncle murdered her.” Then his anger intensified, “No one move! Sit down!”

His voice echoed in the room, and everyone hesitated. I stared at the murdered old man, knowing deep down that his death was on me. I… fuck. 

“Well… That mystery has been solved and justice has been dealt. A happy ending if there ever was one,” Jarl Siddgeir remarked as he sat down in his chair, careless of the man he had just killed. His uncle. “A celebration is in order! Nenya’s murders have faced justice! A toast- wait, no, servant, go fetch the- ah,” he continued, looking at the same servant as before to find her carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and two cups on it. “You’ve already got it. Good. Good.” 

The servant stepped forward and placed a glass before the Jarl and a glass before me. As she poured the wine, she looked up at me. She was pretty enough -- high cheekbones, brown hair, but what stood out the most was her gaze. While everyone else looked on with horror or apprehension, she looked damn near bored. 

Ah…

You have got to be fucking kidding me. 

I grabbed the cup when she was done pouring, knowing who she really was. Yet, I turned to Jarl Siddgeir, who toasted me. His smile a little too sharp. Like he was laughing at a joke that only he seemed to know. The utter piece of…

He knocked back his wine and I rose mine to my lips but didn’t drink. Just in case. And not a second later, the Jarl started coughing. A great heaving cough like he couldn’t breath. But after everything he had just done, no one moved an inch to rush to his side. 

A great surge of irritation flooded me as I watched the man whose ass I was supposed to be kissing start to choke on his own blood after an attempt to kill me. Out of jealousy, or… I don’t even know. Or care. 

Jarl Siddgeir vomited blood onto the table, his looking up at me with eyes filled with fear and confusion. Then he collapsed into the puddle, his eyes seeing nothing. He died. 

What an absolute pain in my fucking ass.  

...

It feels good to be back! The trip was pure hell -- I had forgotten how much I hated public speaking until I was stuck doing it for two weeks. But, I got through it. Though I have been doing a lot of thinking over the two weeks about my stories and I wanted to get some feedback.

The plan for Power Corrupts was to finish off Skyrim, then go to Dragon Age, do a brief pit stop in Highschool of the Dead, then a sifi setting. But I was thinking about it and I'm worried that Dragon Age would feel too sameish as Skyrim, if that makes sense? I have a plan for it, but it's nothing that can't be replaced with another world. 

So, I was thinking of replacing Dragon Age with a pitstop in Konosuba -- meaning that the Demon King would get bum-rushed, the waifus added to the familia, and the possibility of turning Konosuba into the Hub World becomes a possibility. After that, a sifi setting like Mass Effect or something, then going back to Danmachi. Or something. I'm just spitballing here because I'm worried about the story becoming stale if I go from Skyrim straight into Dragon Age. Let me know what you think because I could just be overthinking things.