The Divine Hunter - Chapter 470

Chapter 470 Whiterun

The blue, gentle light of dawn draped over the tranquil village of Riverwood. Not a soul was present in the fields or sawmills. Most villagers were still asleep, but Flynn and Roy were already having breakfast that was filled with meat and mead.

Roy thought he was about to start another adventure in Riverwood, but Flynn gesticulated at him for a while, asking him to go on a trip. Since the witcher was trying to look for a good ‘mount’ to solve the language barrier, he agreed to it. Unless he had absolutely no choice, Roy wouldn’t tame the law-abiding village folk of Riverwood.

The men changed into the furry gauntlets, boots, and broken horned helm given by Gerdur. They were also equipped with chipped swords, and now they looked like battle-hardened Nordlings. Then the men left Riverwood, making their way to Whiterun.

The plateau slowly unfurled before them. Riverwood and Whiterun were located on the southern side of Skyrim. It had a warmer climate compared to the northern lands Roy was used to. Shrubbery grew all over the plains, dotted by beautiful mountain flowers, water caltrops, and purplish-blue lavenders that swayed in the wind.

‘Twas a place where flowers bloomed and weed grew. Sometimes the men would come across a clear stream gurgling between two patches of land. Mirelurks scuttled across the pebbles, and nirnroots swayed their leaves around near the riverside.

Foxes would sometimes stick their head out from behind rocks, glancing at the pair of travelers like they were fools. They then ran back to the plains and had fun by themselves.

“I wish we didn’t have this civil war… this attack from the dragon.” For once in his life, Flynn got himself the perfect listener, and he vented to him. “I could’ve stayed back in Whiterun and enjoyed all it has to offer. The weather’s really great.”

Worried, he said, “I’m already eighteen. It’s high time to find a woman and settle down. If I keep wandering from place to place, I’m never gonna find a partner. Goldeneye, you’re obviously single. Never had a woman in your life, have you?”

Having no idea what Flynn just said, Roy just nodded. Flynn apparently liked talking to himself, so Roy played along.

“We gotta find some ladies at an inn if we have the chance. Oh, and you’re the most amazing fighter I’ve ever seen. Knocked out an Imperial in mere moments. Ralof brags, but I bet he’s no match for you. Honestly, if you were a tad bit darker, you’d look like a Redguard from Hammerfell.”

“Hm?”

“Redguards are great fighters. As great as us Nordlings. Proficient sword users too. I think they know some sort of skill system in swordplay. A legacy, they say.”

Roy shot the talkative Dragonborn a look that said, Shut up.

“You saved my life, and I don’t know how to thank you. But I’ll try to. We’ll work together and get the right to own a house in Whiterun. Maybe Balgruuf will give us that if we send this message to him.”

***

Slowly, the sun rose high into the sky, and Flynn kept talking to himself. A great city unfurled at the end of this path. A city built on a stone mountain. It was draped in a layer of golden light, its ancient walls standing tall under the sun, tranquil and yet brimming with life. But it wasn’t as exquisite as the cities built on the ruins of elven civilization. Helgen, Riverwood, and even Whiterun looked a lot more primitive than the cities of the witcher world.

A stable stood within the greenery at the mountain’s base, the owner cutting up alfalfa for his horses. Roy took a quick glance. The equines were ponies with majestic manes. They were about three feet tall and had sturdy bones. Decent adaptability and stamina, making them perfect for trekking through hard-to-navigate lands and deliveries, but their short stature limited their speed.

But when his gaze shifted to the left and met the thing that was lying beside the road, Roy hastened his pace, and Flynn followed. What they saw made their eyes go wide.

Beside an oval boulder lay a gigantic creature. Its skin was pale, and it measured about sixteen feet tall. But surprisingly, it looked slender, not fat. Its skin was covered in lacerations and punctures. Its hair was slicked back, revealing a big forehead, and its eyes were deep-set. Its nose was aquiline, and a beard extended from its chin.

It wore no clothes. A leather strap extended from its shoulder, connecting to a primitive furry dress probably made of animal fur. And the creature reeked of the stench of beasts. Its feet were big enough to squash any regular human into pancakes, and shinguards surrounded its ankles.

Its enormous body aside, this creature looked somewhat kind.

‘Corpse of a giant

Age: Fifty years old

Gender: Male.’

***

“Mate, this is a giant.” Flynn made a big circle with his hands, trying to gesticulate to Roy. “In most cases, they’re gentle creatures. Peace-loving. Won’t attack humans unless we go near their territory. Or if we prompt them. This one probably crossed the line and got shot down by Whiterun’s guards. Probably saw it as a threat.”

Roy took a deep breath. Are all creatures in this world supersized? First we have a dragon, and now a cavemen? What’s next? A giant wolf? Bear? Or even a tiger? Gods, this world is more dangerous than I thought.

“What are you doing? First you harvested a bunch of wildflowers, and now you’re cutting this giant up.” Flynn watched in awe as his friend hunkered down and cut off parts of the giant’s corpse elegantly, like he was putting on a performance. Roy was like a butcher, while the giant was a piece of meat on the chopping block.

Sunlight glinted off his short sword, leaping across his fingers. Flynn almost couldn’t catch Roy’s movements. A few moments later, Roy had cut off a few toes, some teeth, and both of the giant’s eyes. He tucked them in a sack and tossed them into his inventory space. Gotta loot everything. Maybe this big guy can inspire new items for alchemy.

Flynn retched, waving off the air that was filled with the stench of blood and urine. He looked at Roy, surprised that his sleeves weren’t bulging. He wondered how many pockets Roy had. They don’t seem to fill up at all. “Mate, a reminder. Giants are sentient creatures. Do not consume its meat. Don’t succumb to your hunger.”

Roy shrugged and climbed up the slope. Through the deep, wide moat and the drawbridge did the witcher traverse. Eventually, he came face to face with the city gates. Alas, they were shut tight.

Flynn was about to step forth and talk to the soldiers, but a thunderous boom echoed across the firmament. As if struck by lightning, Flynn shuddered, a distant, ancient call booming in his mind, coming from the peak that was touching the heavens. He froze up, then he turned around and stared southeast. There, a snowy cap hidden between the clouds was vaguely spotted.

“Halt!” An armored soldier with an axe broke his train of thought. “Whiterun is closed to the public. A dragon has been spotted nearby. Only officials are allowed passage.”

“I represent Riverwood, sir.” Flynn shook his head, pushing out the weird thoughts he was having earlier. “Gerdur’s request. They need reinforcements.”

“What? Riverwood was attacked as well? Go. Go to Dragonsreach and seek out Jarl Balgruuf.”

***

The buildings looked slightly better than the walls of the city. All had pyramid-shaped roofs, and the buildings neatly flanked the city’s streets. Obviously, someone planned this. Across the smithy and Breezehome were troops of armored soldiers patrolling the streets. The ground was clean and free of refuse or excrement. There was weed around the houses, however.

The soldier led Roy and Flynn through the Wind Area, then the bustling marketplace of Whiterun. It was filled with petite wooden pavilions where merchants were peddling their merchandise. From meat to wine, they had everything. It was noontime, and the people of Whiterun were making their purchases.

They ascended the stairs flanked by streams and entered a tranquil plaza that resembled a garden. A circular fountain and vine-covered, wooden racks surrounded a lush maple tree the size of a house. A gust of wind sauntered across the plaza, and the tree’s crimson leaves swayed.

A few benches sat underneath the tree, where weary people could sit and enjoy the view. A few children in colorful, washed out clothes were playing a game of chase around the tree. It was a peaceful view.

Flynn and Roy followed the soldier to the greatest height of Whiterun, where Dragonsreach stood. It was a beautiful, solemn structure befitting the ‘dragon’ dub. Its halls were wide and tall enough to fit even Alduin, the Bane of Kings. And that dragon could even stretch its wings easily as well.

There was a legend associated with Dragonsreach. Many, many years ago, Olaf One-Eye, a powerful Nordling, defeated Numinex the dragon and imprisoned it in this fortress until it died of old age. Balgruuf, the current Jarl, was the direct descendent of that dragon-defeating hero.

A bonfire burned in the center of the hall, and a rectangular table with a hollowed-out center sat beside it. At the end of the hall sat a burly, cloaked man on a throne. He was in resplendent attire, with a circlet with a ruby embedded in it on his head, and his hair and beard were golden. His chin was resting in his hand, his mind no doubt engaged in a furious battle about the decision he should make regarding the latest crisis.

An armored, dark-skinned woman with dark gold hair unsheathed her blade and stood before the newcomers. She was obviously no Nordling, and Flynn told her why they were here to see the Jarl.

Roy cast Observe on her. A dark elf. Irileth, the housecarl of Balgruuf. Like the Nordlings, dark elves had two talents unique to their race.

‘Fury of the Ancestors: Costs a moderate amount of stamina. Inflicts a minor amount of damage to the enemies around the user. Lasts for sixty seconds.

Fire Resistance: Dark elves have great resistance to heat. Gains an additional 25% resistance to fire magic.’

***

“What are your names, warriors? Are you the ones who witnessed the destruction of Helgen wrought by that dragon?” A majestic voice came from the throne.

“I’m Flynn, and this is my mate, Goldeneye. He’s not from Tamriel, so he doesn’t speak our tongue. Pardon him.” Flynn gave Roy a look, and the witcher bowed at Balgruuf calmly.

“We were to be executed at the chopping block.” Flynn bowed. “Ulfric and his Stormcloaks were going to be, really. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then a dragon came from the clouds. Big as a mountain, scales as black as night.” Flynn recounted their tale expressively. “It can breathe fire, turn humans to ash, and even summon a hail of meteors. That destroyed Helgen almost right away. And Riverwood, as you know, is right beside Helgen. The dragon might go for it next.”

A frown furrowed Balgruuf’s brows. The mention of a particular name seemed to anger him. Irileth stood on his right, and she suggested Balgruuf send his troops to reinforce Riverwood. But on Balgruuf’s left stood a balding man in long robes. He was Proventus, the Steward of Balgruuf, and he objected to it.

Riverwood was located on the borders of Whiterun and Falkreath. Sending out an army might anger the Jarl of Falkreath, for he would mistake the move as Balgruuf showing support to the Stormcloaks.

“My land and people are being attacked by that monster. I will not ignore that.” The hot-tempered Jarl made his decision after a moment of contemplation. “Irileth, send a troop to Riverwood.”

“Yes, sire.”

Flynn heaved a long sigh of relief. Well, I did my job.

“Flynn, Goldeneye, you have contributed greatly to Whiterun. What form of reward would you desire?”

Flynn gulped. “Generous, merciful Jarl, I am but a tramp who has been without a home for years in Skyrim. A house I can call my own is what I wish for.”

“A house in exchange for a mere message? Bold. Too bold. I cannot give you a house, but I can give you the right to own one,” Balgruuf answered calmly.

Flynn was delighted. He thought he finally got what he came for, but then the Jarl continued. “Yet you need to contribute more if you wish to gain that right. For your next task, you shall be helping Farengar, my court wizard. He’s researching the dragon in an attempt to hatch a plan to erase the threat it poses.”

“Jarl,” Flynn said carefully. “I am but a humble man who knows a bit of swordplay. Any of your soldiers can defeat me easily. I apologize, but I cannot fend off one dragon by myself, much less multiple.” He’d rather give up the house in Whiterun if the alternative was death.

“I’m not asking you to kill a dragon. All I need is information on them. My soldiers will be supporting the towns in Whiterun Hold. We’re short on manpower, and you’re just being modest at this point.” Balgruuf rose from his seat and pinched his beard. “You managed to escape the empire’s chopping block and a dragon attack. Then you came all the way to Whiterun on top of that. You are no ordinary humans. Luck, you might call it that, but luck is sometimes what differentiates a great warrior from a regular one.”

Balgruuf calmly turned his attention to the witcher, a look of approval glinting in his eyes. “And look at your friend. He’s calm, collected, and cool. More than meets the eyes, I would say. I reckon he’s a smart and powerful warrior.”

“Jarl, Goldeneye does not speak our tongue. He looks calm because he’s confused.”

“Do not underestimate your friend. Especially one who has gone through a life-or-death situation with you. Now, you shall assist my court wizard.” Balgruuf led the two of them to a chamber on the right side of the hall.”

Flynn looked at Roy, but the witcher only shrugged. Man, Goldeneye. This is your fault, you know.

***

The chamber had a desk with a map on it and another strange table around it. It was there the men met Farengar the court wizard. The man was gaunt, shady, and hidden under a black cloak, unlike his muscular, manly brethren. And yet Farengar was a Nordling through and through. Flynn could imagine how much other Nordlings must despise someone like Farengar.

“Warriors, I need you to explore a dangerous ruin and retrieve a stone tablet from its depths.” Farengar had a weak voice, and his eyes were bloodshot, not unlike someone who had insomnia. That, or he was a mad scientist who spent all his time on research.

“Um… Uh…” Flynn fidgeted for a while, then he gritted his teeth. “Just tell us what we need to do.” I’m doing this for my home. He looked at Roy. And I’ll leave the more dangerous matters to you, mate.

Roy was staring at the mage. The messages that were flooding his brain were more complex and bizarre than he expected. Through Farengar, he saw the magic system of this world, and it was divided into a few schools.

‘Farengar

Age: Fifty-six years old

Gender: Male

Status: Whiterun court wizard, graduate of College of Winterhold

HP: 80

Magicka: 250

Strength: 6

Constitution: 8

Dexterity: 6

Perception: 8

Will: 6

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 25

Skills:

Frost Resistance (Passive): Nordlings are born with resistance to cold weather and ice-based magic.

Blessing of the Stars—The Apprentice (Passive): Those born in Sun’s Height (July) have a special connection to magic. +1 to Spirit. Twenty percent increase in all spells. Take twenty percent increase on magic damage.

Destruction Level 6 (Destroys a target’s health and stats through the elements or spells. Some spells can even damage weapons and apparel): Currently mastered twenty-two destruction spells, including Flames, Fireball, Chain Lightning, and Blizzard.

Restoration Level 1 (Restoration spells are the antithesis of destruction spells. It can heal and clear the target’s negative statuses. Some spells allow for the strengthening of the target’s stats): Currently mastered Healing, Fast Healing, and Close Wounds.

Conjuration Level 5 (Conjuration spells can summon weapons, apparel, and living beings even from a different dimension to this plane of existence. Mages who are masters of Conjuration can sense and summon one another. They can also teleport to the other mage’s location): Currently mastered twenty conjuration spells, including Conjure Familiar, Conjure Flame Atronach, and Banish Daedra.

Alteration Level 5 (Allows for altering of the target’s physical and magical status. Handy school of spells and is used for a wide variety of purposes): Currently mastered ten alteration spells, including Candlelight, Stoneflesh, Ironflesh, and Waterbreathing.

Illusion Level 1 (Allows for altering the target’s mind. Enables the user to force their target into doing their bidding): Currently mastered Courage, Fury, and Fear.

Mysticism Level 2 (A complex school of magic. Manipulates Magicka): Currently mastered Detect Life, Reflect Damage, Spell Absorption, and Soul Trap.

Thaumaturgy Level ? (This school of magic does not change the target’s stats, structure, or appearance. It alters the law followed by its target for a set amount of time)

Enchanting Level 5: Expends soul (usually in the form of soul gems) to allow for the enchanting of weapons or some items with magical properties. Currently mastered twenty-seven enchanting spells, including Fortify Magicka Regen, Fortify Health, and Absorb Magicka.’

***

“I like your style. You shall be traveling to a place called Bleak Falls Barrow. There will be a dragonstone in that sanctum, and on its back will be the Map of Dragon Burials. Retrieve that dragonstone… Hm, your friend seems odd. Doesn’t look like a Nordling at all.”

Upon noticing the mage’s unfriendly look, Roy quickly turned his attention to that bizarre table behind him. It was completely black and had a pentagram in the center. White candles burned from both ends, connected by a human skull in the center. Mysterious and terrifying.

‘Arcane Enchanter

A workstation that allows for the enchanting of items through the use of soul gems and components. Also allows for the destruction of items to extract enchantment formulae.’

Whoa. We don’t have these back home. Gotta get one for research purposes.

***

Farengar added, “It’s a gigantic structure belonging to a time long past. It belonged to the Nordlings of yore. Perhaps a thousand years old. It’s located on a mountain a few miles south of Riverwood. You can ask the locals for more specifics when you get there.”

“Any dangers there?” asked Flynn nervously.

“The Empire’s rule can’t reach that place effectively. Bandits run rampant there, and there will be traps in the sanctum,” Farengar said matter-of-factly, as if he knew Flynn could do it.

Roy turned his attention to the purple crystal on the mage’s left.

‘Soul gem (Lesser)

A crystal that can store pure soul energy. Can be used to enchant items or replenish Magicka.’

***

Looks like my bloodstone. He touched the soul gem.

“Oh, interested, are we? I’ll sell it to you cheap. 199 gold.”

Flynn took up the mantle of a translator. He pointed at the soul gem and gesticulated for a while. Roy got the meaning eventually, and he shook his head, smiling. The witcher then opened his hand, revealing the bloodstone he filled with souls the night before.

“A lesser soul gem. Spoils of battle?” Farengar took it and had a closer look. “Are you selling? Why, of course I’m buying. Since you’re helping me out, I’m willing to relieve you of this gem for a hundred gold.”

Roy spent a lot of time explaining, and Flynn guessed his meaning, then he told Farengar that he was open for item exchange.

Farengar might be a court wizard, but he was also selling his own magical merchandise. Soul gems, enchantment formulae, and the things that Roy was most interested in—spell tomes.