Chapter 23: Bargaining #23
Walking out of the cave, Erik glanced down at the ebony fragment in his hand. Wrapped tightly in coarse cloth, the dark metal piece was decorated with jagged, intricate lines, hints of something far greater than the fragment he now held. It didn't take a trained eye to see that this sliver of ebony was once part of something far more significant. He turned it over in his palm, studying it closely.
This was no ordinary piece of scrap metal. Its identity was unmistakable—a fragment of Wuuthrad, the legendary battle-axe once wielded by Ysgramor himself. The decoration on the metal, though faded and worn, still carried the weight of history, a piece of the ancient weapon used by the founder of the Companions.
The thought sent a ripple of intrigue through Erik. Wuuthrad, the famed axe of the harbinger. This fragment alone explained why the so-called "bandit leader" had been carrying a silver-bladed sword. The truth was simple enough—the man hadn't been a bandit at all. He was a member of the Silver Hand, the notorious faction of werewolf hunters dedicated to opposing the Companions at every turn.
Erik's mind drifted to his recent encounter with Aela the Huntress, her battle with the troll still fresh in his mind. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the odd coincidence of crossing paths with the Silver Hand so soon after speaking with her.
Slipping the fragment back into the folds of his cloak, he muttered, "Whatever. This might come in handy later." He allowed himself a small smirk. "I could use it to get access to the Skyforge someday... but for now, it's just a chunk of useless metal."
As Erik mused over his newfound treasure, Geri, the ever-watchful corgi, let out a loud bark, his nose buried in the dirt as he sniffed around. Erik looked down at the excited dog, unable to help a chuckle as he shook his head. "Right, right... Let's see if our friends are still waiting at the foot of the mountain," he muttered, more to himself than the dog.
Gathering his magicka, Erik closed his eyes for a brief moment, muttering the incantation under his breath, "Detect Living." A pulse of energy surged through his body, focusing in his eyes. When he opened them again, his irises glowed a deep crimson, and the world around him shifted.
The familiar landscape of rocks and snow was now overlaid with the glowing auras of life—vivid outlines that marked every living creature within range.
He scanned the area carefully. Hares and mountain goats scurried around the rocky slopes, their faint auras flickering as they went about their business. But no humanoid auras, no sign of his quarry. The foot of the mountain was eerily devoid of human presence.
Erik's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on the empty path ahead. Just a short while ago, there had been a group of five men tailing him ever since he had left the gates of Riften. Their presence had been far from subtle, always lingering just at the edge of his awareness, a shadow that never strayed too far. And yet, now... nothing.
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, momentarily intrigued by their sudden disappearance. He had been tempted to rid himself of their constant shadowing more than once—after all, having someone track his every movement was annoying at best. But he had thought better of it, dismissing the notion just as quickly as it came.
'Either they were Maven Black-Briar's people... or thieves from the Guild,' he mused, recalling the unspoken power struggles in Riften. He doubted Maven herself had sent them, but it wouldn't be the first time one of her agents had been overly ambitious. As for the Thieves Guild... they were slippery, always eager to keep tabs on anyone who might disrupt their delicate balance of power.
Still, Erik knew better than to cause unnecessary waves. 'Disposing of them might draw unwanted attention,' he thought, a flicker of amusement crossing his mind.
It wasn't that he feared the repercussions, but it was the potential inconvenience that gave him pause. Should they fail to return, their employers might raise questions, and questions had a way of leading to complications—complications he had no interest in dealing with at the moment.
Besides, his time in Riften was far too valuable. He had yet to fully extract the smithing knowledge embedded in the Lexicon, and distractions would only delay his progress. His desire to unlock the secrets within that ancient Dwemer artifact left little room for petty scuffles or hidden enemies.
The process was delicate and demanding; every scrap of knowledge pulled from the Lexicon was like a puzzle, slowly piecing together ancient crafting techniques.
And, frankly, he wasn't doing anything that needed to be hidden. His exploration of the region was hardly a secret, so why bother eliminating a minor nuisance? Let them watch. Let them report back. It mattered little in the grand scheme of things.
Erik tilted his head back, eyes drawn to the sky now blanketed in darkness. The twin moons of Nirn—Masser and Secunda—hovered low over the horizon, casting an eerie, pale light over the mountain. The world felt still, quiet, as if waiting for something to break the tranquility. But for now, there was only the rustle of wind through the trees and the distant sound of nocturnal animals stirring.
"I suppose it's time we head back to Riften," Erik muttered, his voice barely a whisper beneath the weight of the night. His thoughts had already shifted back to the warm hearths of the city, the quiet corners where he could resume his work in peace.
There was no need to linger here any longer.
At his side, Geri let out a sharp bark, as if in agreement, his small tail wagging eagerly. Erik chuckled, bending down to scoop the corgi into his arms. "Alright, alright. Don't get too excited. We'll be back in no time."
With Geri comfortably nestled in his arms, Erik turned, beginning his slow trek down the mountain. The path was steep and winding, but his feet moved with ease, finding the familiar grooves in the earth.
The night air was cold but crisp, and for a moment, Erik allowed himself to simply enjoy the solitude, the quiet.
...
Erik pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Bee and Barb, expecting the usual din of chatter and clinking tankards, but as he stepped inside, the eerie silence made him pause. His gaze swept the room, instantly noticing the absence of the inn's usual patrons. The bar, typically bustling with activity, stood empty.
Not a single attendant in sight. Even Talen-Jei, the innkeeper who was always ready to offer a polite greeting, was nowhere to be found. The chairs that usually held tired travelers and suspicious locals were vacant, except for one figure sitting at a table in the center.
A woman, her presence striking in contrast to the empty room, sat calmly with a steel ornate wine goblet in her hand. Her jet-black hair framed her sharp features, and she was dressed in heavy, luxurious clothing—a rich brown fabric, embroidered with intricate gold patterns. The kind of attire worn only by those of wealth and influence. Her yellow eyes, glowing with quiet power and intensity, lifted to meet his.
Erik sighed internally, though he kept his expression neutral. It wasn't the usual nervous or curious glances of patrons that made him pause this time; it was the unmistakable authority radiating from Maven Black-Briar, the most powerful woman in Riften.
"Lady Black-Briar," Erik began, his tone calm but with a hint of weariness, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Much to his surprise, Maven stood up gracefully from her chair, setting the wine glass down with a quiet clink. She gestured toward the empty seat across from her, a thin smile playing at her lips.
"Please, take a seat, Thane Deathsong of Hjaalmarch," she said smoothly. Her voice, while polite, carried the same steely undertone that made her infamous across Skyrim. "I have something to discuss with you."
Erik's brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard. Her tone was unusually formal, almost respectful, which was out of character for the ruthless, insufferable Maven he'd known from the game. And that wasn't all. How did she know of his Thane status already?
The title had only been made official recently, and while Brynjolf had heard it directly from him, Erik hadn't expected the information to reach Maven so quickly—let alone be confirmed.
'The Thieves Guild,' he thought with a touch of amusement. 'They never fail to impress with their speed'.
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Erik slowly moved toward the offered chair, his eyes never leaving hers. He sat down, casually leaning back as though he hadn't a care in the world, though he knew well enough that Maven Black-Briar rarely called someone for a simple conversation.
"Only someone like you would chase an innkeeper out of their own establishment just to discuss something," he remarked dryly, folding his arms. "Should I feel flattered or alarmed?"
Maven's smile remained fixed, her sharp eyes studying him for a moment before she responded. "A bit of both, perhaps," she said smoothly, her voice laced with amusement. "I prefer to handle important matters without prying eyes or loose tongues. And you, Thane Deathsong, have caught my interest."
Erik raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, letting her continue. Maven leaned forward slightly, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. "You've made quite the impression since arriving in Riften. The Thane of a distant hold, yet meddling in Riften's affairs. I couldn't help but wonder—what could someone like you possibly want from my city?"
Erik barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Maven's pointed question, keeping his expression neutral. Her probing wasn't unexpected, but it was still irritating.
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he responded, voice laced with casual indifference. "I wouldn't call taking out a skooma gang 'meddling in Riften's affairs,'" he remarked. "It's more of a public service performed in the spur of the moment, really."
He gave a slight shake of his head, letting his words hang in the air before adding, "As for what I want with this city, I can assure you it has nothing to do with you or your daughter… if that's why you're here."
Maven's expression remained calm, though her eyes gleamed with that calculating sharpness she was known for. She rested her hands on the table, fingers tapping lightly in thought before she spoke.
"I've already concluded that your encounter with my daughter was nothing more than a coincidence," she replied smoothly. "We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise."
Her voice was as cool and collected as ever, but there was a subtle edge to her words, a reminder of her control over the situation. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady on Erik. "As I said, I'm here to discuss something important. An offer, if you will."
Before Erik could reply, the sound of clattering plates shattered the tense atmosphere. His eyes flicked to the side, where Geri had managed to knock over several platters of food from a nearby table. The small dog was now enthusiastically burying his muzzle in the spilled food, completely oblivious to the awkward timing of his feast.
Erik sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course, he thought, half amused, half exasperated. Leave it to Geri to interrupt a meeting with one of the most powerful people in Skyrim by devouring a meal off the floor.
With a flick of his wrist, Erik used a simple telekinesis spell to lift Geri off the ground and pull the corgi into his lap. Geri, seemingly unfazed by the sudden magic, looked up at Erik with innocent, wide eyes, a scrap of meat still hanging from his mouth.
Erik shook his head, muttering, "You've had enough, troublemaker."
He turned his attention back to Maven, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing about the interruption. Erik gestured for her to continue, settling Geri more comfortably in his lap. "Alright," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I'm all ears."
Maven's gaze remained steady on Erik, her eyes calculating as she continued. "I've heard from my people that you recently visited the mountain southeast of Riften." Her tone was matter-of-fact, with no hint of accusation, but Erik could sense the weight behind her words.
"Coincidentally, the offer I'm here to discuss is related to that very place. More specifically, the Nordic ruin of Forelhost atop the mountain."
Erik raised an eyebrow, already curious but remaining silent as Maven explained further.
"The mountain is riddled with caves," she continued, "rich in various ores. Until recently, it was a thriving network of mines. A profitable venture for all involved—until the miners dug too deep. They breached the interior of the ruins within the mountain, and Draugr began to emerge. In great numbers."
Her voice took on a faint edge, the frustration of a businesswoman who had lost a valuable asset. "The infestation has grown large enough to permanently disrupt mining operations. No one dares venture near the place anymore."
Maven's eyes narrowed, her voice turning crisp. "I want you to lead a group of mercenaries into the ruins. Clear out the Draugr, rid the mountain of that cursed presence, and restore the mines."
Erik paused at her words, the name Forelhost striking a chord deep within his memory. From what he recalled of his time playing Skyrim, Forelhost was no ordinary ruin. It was the burial site of a named dragon priest—Rahgot. That kind of place wasn't to be trifled with. Ancient traps, Draugr by the dozens, and a dragon priest's power lurking at its core.
Amused, Erik let a smirk curl at the edge of his lips. "An offer, eh? Not a threat? Or a simple 'do as I say, or I'll crush you'? I suppose you can't trust all the rumors."
Maven scoffed, clearly unfazed by his sarcasm. "The rumors aren't unfounded," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But I didn't get where I am by relying solely on threats. I have a keen eye for talent, and I can judge when someone is capable of more than the average sell-sword."
She leaned back slightly, folding her arms as she continued. "Threats and coercion only work on sheep. You, however, are no sheep to my eyes."
Erik chuckled inwardly, mildly impressed by her approach. It made sense, in a way. Maven Black-Briar wasn't some back-alley thug leaning on brute force alone.
She was a sharp businesswoman, with more influence in Riften than even the Jarl. Her reach extended across Skyrim nd maybe even beyond, and needed to know when to step forward and when to step back. In order to succeed, she needed to be an expert in understanding who to antagonize and who to befriend to achieve her goals.
In the game, she was always portrayed as arrogant, unyielding no matter what the Dragonborn accomplished. But here, in this real version of Skyrim, Maven was showing a side of herself that was far more pragmatic. She could be cautious, even respectful, when necessary.
Erik's grin widened as a thought surfaced in his mind. 'I suppose transforming from an essential NPC to a regular old mortal has a way of humbling even the most snobbish of people.'
He shifted in his seat, considering the weight of the offer. While clearing out the ruins might have seemed like a straightforward task, the reality of what awaited within Forelhost was far more dangerous than Maven likely realized. Draugr were one thing, but a dragon priest?
He couldn't deny the allure of the challenge, though. Besides, getting on Maven's good side wasn't the worst idea in the world. Having the most powerful woman in Riften owe him a favor could prove useful in the future.
"Well," Erik said after a moment, his tone light but thoughtful, "it's certainly an interesting proposition. But I have to wonder… why me? Surely you have plenty of mercenaries at your disposal."
Maven's lips curved into a thin smile. "Let's just say, I prefer to hire those with a reputation for getting things done. And after your little 'public service' with the skooma gang, you've proven that you can handle yourself. I need someone reliable. Someone I can trust with this task."
The idea of facing a dragon priest wasn't something he took lightly, but in his current state, he needed a worthy challenge. Rahgot, the dragon priest of Forelhost, would be just the opponent to push him toward mastering the memories and techniques of the Ansei that still swirled inside his mind.
Plus, there was Rahgot's mask—a relic that greatly bolstered the wearer's stamina. Considering the constant drain on his vitality caused by the Necromancer's Amulet, that mask would be the perfect tool to counterbalance its drawbacks.
And that wasn't all. The idea of getting his hands on a dragon priest's staff, which could serve as an efficient conduit for casting spells, was another tempting incentive. On paper, it all seemed to benefit him. But despite these enticing rewards, Erik couldn't ignore his already tight schedule.
His mission to reach the Beacon of Stendarr, then return to Morthal to awaken Serana and begin repairing his soul, took precedence. Sure, the mask and staff were alluring, but he didn't need them.
Ultimately, whether or not he accepted Maven's offer would depend on what she put on the table. If the reward was good enough, he'd consider it. Otherwise, Forelhost could wait until he had the time—and until Maven wasn't dangling it in front of him like a bargaining chip.
He eyed Maven for a moment before breaking the silence. "So, what's in it for me?"
Maven met his gaze without hesitation. "Name your price."
Erik arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her openness. "A share of the mines," he said, leaning forward. "And the right to claim anything and everything that catches my eye inside Forelhost."
Maven didn't blink. She agreed instantly, her tone crisp. "You'll get ten percent of the mine's profits."
Erik was caught off guard by her quick agreement. He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Just like that?"
She nodded, folding her arms as if the matter was already settled. "Not only that, but I can arrange it so that you'll have the option to buy a larger share—assuming, of course, you have the coin for it."
That was too smooth. Erik frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his features. "Why so generous? I know your reputation, Maven. You don't just hand out profits like sweetrolls at a feast. What's your angle?"
Maven smiled, the gleam in her eyes cold and calculating. "Generosity has nothing to do with it. The truth is, I lack the funds to monopolize the mines outright. With my current resources focused on expanding the meadery, I wouldn't be able to secure more than half the total shares once the Draugr infestation is dealt with. But with you taking ten percent, it's better to have a neutral party—someone I can trust with business—claiming shares than risk a rival swooping in. You're a far safer investment."
Erik was undeniably tempted by the prospect of a steady flow of wealth. The old necromancer whose memories still whispered in the corners of his mind had left behind a considerable fortune—enough to buy an entire hold if he wanted. But it wasn't infinite. And with the way Erik had been spending gold lately, he estimated it might not even last a decade. A constant income stream from the mines would solve that problem.
"Alright," Erik said, his tone firm. "I'll take the ten percent. And I'll reserve the right to buy any shares that might slip through your fingers."
Maven's frown was immediate. "Those shares won't come cheap," she warned, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "A purchase like that could cost you hundreds of thousands of septims. Do you truly have that kind of gold to throw around?"
Erik met her gaze steadily, unbothered by her skepticism. "Doesn't matter how much it costs," he replied. "I have enough."
Maven paused, her sharp yellow eyes narrowing as she studied him, as if searching for cracks in his confidence. It wasn't often that someone surprised her, and Erik could see the wheels turning in her mind, calculating. But finally, she allowed herself a smirk, seemingly satisfied with what she saw.
"This meeting has been more fruitful than I anticipated," Maven said, her voice smooth. "Perhaps we'll have a very long, mutually beneficial relationship after all."
Erik gave a slight nod, rising from his chair. "I'll drink to that." He reached over to a nearby table, picking up a bottle of Black-Briar Mead, popping the cork, and taking a long sip. The familiar burn of the honeyed alcohol warmed his throat. "I'll need a couple of days to finish my business. Once I'm ready to head to Forelhost, I'll contact you."
With that, he turned, Geri following loyally at his heels as he made his way toward the stairs, intent on calling it a night. His thoughts were already shifting, formulating a plan for what lay ahead.
Behind him, Maven straightened, adjusting her coat as she prepared to leave. "I'll be waiting," she said, her voice trailing after him as she headed toward the exit.
Erik didn't look back. The game had begun, and both of them knew it. As he climbed the stairs, Geri at his side, a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. The night had proven more eventful than he expected, and with the promise of treasure, power, and wealth looming on the horizon, sleep would be a welcome respite.
...
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