Jon had woken up himself at around 0900 hours. He would have prefer a full eight hours at least, but Saadia trying to quietly return his robes gave the veteran Augment a start. No matter, the six he got suited his weary bones just fine. Augments didn't actually need much sleep at all, even tired ones, but he still preferred a normal sleeping schedule when he could. He spent the next hour luxuriating in the warm bath dug into in alcove of the inn. The perfumes the people of theses lands used was pleasant smelling and felt good on his sensitive skin. Having sleep, food, and a bath for the first time in four days made the Augment sane once more.
Saadia broke his internal revelry. She again didn't meet his eye. She said, "Hulda wanted me to tell you that breakfast is almost ready, but you can stay as long as you want. The room is also yours for the rest of the day."
"Thank you. I'll be out shortly. I'm not going to hurt you, you know. Its pretty obvious you're hiding from someone, probably Redguard, from how you reacted last night. I doubt you treat every other customer like the plague, otherwise you wouldn't have a job. It hurts your cover." Jon said, forcing Saadia to meet his heterochromiatic eyes and judge the truth there.
She looked at the Redguard in the bath, perfect skin face and figure, even cute marring on his left ear. She decided on a whim, she said, "Maybe you ca-"
"What, help you? Right now? No. I'm sorry. I have Jarl appointed tasks before me, and other weighty matters to consider." Jon said.
Saadia winced at the rebuke. Jon continued, "However, if you're still alive when next I pass though, then I will consider it. In the meantime, I will not sell you out to whoever is trying to find you. On the honor of house Noonien-Singh." He raised his right hand, exercising full self control to not laugh.
Saadia judged truth, but she had to ask. She said, "I've never heard of your house."
Jon responded, "Foreign. Completely. I'm not actually a Redguard."
She judged truth again. She whispered, "Thank you, on behalf of house Suda."
A cowbell interrupted their conversation. Hulda was calling for breakfast. Jon exited the bath and donned his robes and harness, giving a quick check to ensure he didn't leave his iron dagger in someones skull. He entered the main room of the inn and sat down on the bar-stool in front of Hulda.
Jon said, "Hulda, thank you for your hospitality. I wont need the food of five men this morning. Just two." He finished with a boyish smile.
Hulda returned the smile, "Of course, dear. Are eggs and bacon okay? Goes well with some warm mead."
Jon simply gave her a hungry look, and Hulda decided that the humble fare would suit the man just fine. Saadia brought the food to him, this time with grace benefiting a noble, and Jon devoured half dozen eggs and nearly pound of bacon in a couple minutes. It again didn't taste like its Terran equivalent, but it was good all the same. While he still preferred the mead cold, reminding him of the brews he shared with his comrades, the warm mead complimented the simple breakfast perfectly. Others ate and conversed nearby, both the previous nights tenets, and locals that had come for the brunch.
"I'll be leaving Whiterun after attending court. You need not hold the room for me." Jon said after finishing his meal.
"Oh, thanks for letting me know, I've had more than one traveler or adventurer not tell me, and then get mad when rooms aren't available. Safe travels, friend. You're welcome at the Bannered Mare any time."
Jon gave her a smile and walked out the door. He hadn't been to any of the other inns yet, but he knew in his hardened bones that the Bannered Mare was the best one in the city. Maybe even Skyrim itself. The market was busy as midday approached. City residents went too and fro on their errands or tasks. Stands dotted the center of the place for gathering and commerce. Each had various types of wares and were covered with canvas awnings. They formed most of a circle around the city's main water well, no doubt fed by the system at the foot of Dragonsreach. At various places he could here the sewer system running away and echoing up thought the hollow man holes. He wondered what life dwell within.
He spotted his target and made his way. He heard, "These fruits and vegetables are disappointing, Carlotta."
Carlotta said, "I get them fresh from the farms daily, Nazeem." Jon spied the truth.
Nazeem said, "If you were getting them from my farm, they'd be twice as fresh." Absolutely preposterous, Jon thought.
"You're standing in the way of my other customers, Nazeem. Buy something or move along." Carlotta said with finality.
Nazeem turned around, his smug demeanor leaking from every pore. He said, "Oh look, yet another Redguard that doesn't know how to show proper respect to their betters. Oh well, if anyone needs me ill be in the cloud district, advising the Jarl on matters most important. Not that you would ever be able to do so yourselves." If Jon where any other Augment, he would have killed the man then and there. Then the slaughter would commence. He instead continued his labors.
He walked up to the stand, eyeing the man with a sick gaze until he got up the steps to the well-off district and away from the merry, evil, chuckle that followed. Had he killed the man then and there, he wouldn't get to see the look on the bastard's face when Jon trounced right up to the Jarl and advised him on matters most important; Dragons returning, and their consequences for the hold. He wondered what it would take to get title in this city. While the Jarl had officially recognized his name, house, and former rank, those were foreign and pretty much meaningless. It would command a certain respect, as Hadvar said, but it did not make him apart of the prevailing social structure. If he wanted to take on the Worm, he would need allies, and open ones at that. Trying to slay a dragon isn't covert work like he was used to.
Carlotta gave him a bemused smirk. She said, "You actually found that jerk funny? You must know something."
Jon gave her a smile and said, "Sharp. What I know is that I bought important news and word to the Jarl last night, and he has commanded another, probably related, task of me in exchange for a steed."
Carlotta burst our laughing as well. She said, "And you're going to Dragonsreach as soon as you're done dealing with me." Jon nodded. "What can I get you."
"Two weeks worth of road rations." Jon said. In actually, it would be a week's worth from him, giving him about two weeks worth of total provisions.
"120 gold, I'll give you a steep discount for what you're about to pull off." Carlotta said.
Jon didn't even question it. "Sold" he said.
Jon completed his transaction, he also counted his coin. Between everything he picked up along the way, and everything he spent, he had about 200 gold left. It seemed Imperial pay was good, and so was light dungeon diving. Treasure, he added to his list of weighty matters to consider, for reasons he couldn't discern. He took in the light day as he walked though the markets, savoring every new smell, sight, and sound. Clouds hung low, not betraying storm yet, and it was no wonder why the cloud district was called such. Sitting high atop the tundra peak, the Jarl's residence almost touched them at the very tips. Perhaps they would if the clouds were heavier, stormy. It seemed to be an intentional choice by the builders. He would have to ask more of the history later.
Jon passed a raving preacher of Talos. He said, "Talos the mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassailable! To you we we give praise!" This was too something he would ask about later. Right now Jarl appointed tasked were before him.
Jon walked the steps to the keep and received no challenge. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the trials of last night. He was in a much better mood for certain.
"Hail, Wizard. We were told to expect a big Redguard in robes. You may enter." Was all the final guard said. The day shift was a little more courteous.
Jon entered the man-door and was greeted by the familiar sights of the hall. Most of the smells were new, meaning food he hadn't tried yet. He made a full inspection of the various steel plate armor sets standing guard over the entryway. Also the various weapons, swords or axes big and small, some shields covering them. He imagined they made an emergency armory in case of attack; Every piece looked well made and functional. When he took to the stairs, he would make an in-depth assessment of dragon skeletal structure.
Before he could there was a humble old lady that spoke to him. He didn't even notice her at first. She said, "Welcome to Dragonsreach. I'm Gerda. Is this your first time? You look it, but sometimes my old eyes betray me."
Jon could see at a glance the lie, and she could see that he saw. He said, "No ma'am. I was here last night. Late. To give the Jarl private counsel."
"Oh yes. He often takes word at a late hour, if it's important. That means you haven't been properly announced at court yet. Make no mistake, I may be a servant among lords, but I take my duties as seriously as the Jarl takes his, Divines bless him."
Jon cut in, "Your duties being keeping this spotless entryway so, and proudly announcing new guests to court?" Gerda smiled warmly, her face creasing. Jon's rapidly forming plan was proceeding perfectly.
"You're a sharp one." she said.
Jon quickly said, "I'm not going to insult you by asking if you are familiar with Nazeem."
Gerda gave him an overly suspicious look. She asked "What of him?"
Jon, with a shark smile, said, "I had an encounter with him just a little while ago."
"Oh I see. He probably prattled on about coming to the cloud district, and implied how important he is to the Jarl." Gerda said. She had a conspiratorial look.
"He also said I and others would never be able to advise him, as if the Jarl is not a fair man that would make time for his subjects." Jon said.
"heh-heh, the Jarl is a fair man. And here you already were, giving counsel to him at an hour he only takes it when necessary. Definitely not from a smug merchant. If I were just 10 years younger, boy. What of your name? I will scream it from the Throat of the World." Jon's smile went wider.
"Jon, of house Noonien-Singh. Retired captain of the Green Berets." He proclaimed. Gerda gave him an evil nod.
They both took to the stairs, he made note of the dragon-corpse. The placement of every bone, and every joint, was now known to him and committed to memory. As Gerda almost faltered on the steps, Jon offered his hand and she happily accepted. It wasn't necessarily proper to have a lord and captain escorting his announcer as he is, but the relief was welcomed by her old bones, and the Jarl didn't stand on much ceremony anyway, to her chagrin. The boy was very polite when he was being rude.
She got to the top of the steps, Jon's hand regally in hers. She felt like a princess. She almost cried. She cried, "NOW INTRODUCING A NEW GUEST TO COURT! JON! OF HOUSE NOONIEN-SINGH! RETIRED CAPTAIN OF THE GREEN BERETS!"
"Thank you, milady." Jon said, with a small kiss of Gerda's hand.
The gesture was sarcastic in his time and place. In this time and place, however, it represented his first official introduction to society at large. His name, he, was now known. Those there saw a saw a man of both strength, the Redguard was too damn big to see anything else, and supreme grace and class. No doubt a noble from wherever his exotic sounding house came from, not Hammerfell certainly. No doubt from a line of warriors, given his size. He was even in robes, a captain of a company in robes. A scholar, not simply a battle-mage would have donned their armor, as would have been perfectly allowed in a Skyrim court. Everyone was armed, and half armored, he was armed. Nay, the robes were an intentional choice of style, functionality, and personality. Some might call him Tamrielic-Man by the way he moves, talks, and acts as if every question or unknown is puzzle to ponder, or battle to meet. A new lord of a new house had boldly made his entrance to Dragonsreach.
He walked to the Jarl and gave a shot bow and salute. He said "Jarl Bulgruuf the Greater, I have come on the morrow as you have commanded of me." Nazeem simply closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing.
"You sure know how to make an entrance don't you? What did you do to get her to pull that off? She's a stickler for ceremony, but not that much." The Jarl said. Jon smiled in response. The din of open court returned as eyes and ears averted away from the Jarl's semi-private conversation.
Jon said, "Just some kind words, my Jarl. I was actually starting a, hopefully light, rivalry just there."
The Jarl said, "And you opened with an overwhelming show of force and class. Well done. Just know, I don't mind a bit of rivalry, but only as long as it stays 'light,' as you say. All of the major clans have holdings, and I've found that healthy competition between them means a healthy Whiterun economy. Oblivion, we have feuds that go back to the founding of Skyrim! Its tradition! Just don't turn it into a vendetta inside the city. Settle matters of honor at an agreed time and place. A simple fistfight at the inn won't be a problem though, again, as long as its agreed upon with witness."
Jon politely said, "Thank you for your counsel, my Jarl. I will keep your words in mind."
The Jarl said, "How was your rest, Jon?"
Jon, just loud enough for Nazeem to hear, said, "Excellent, sir. Hulda is a gracious host, and you are a gracious Jarl."
The Jarl smiled at what he knew Jon was doing. He didn't know who had caught the man's ire on his first day in Whiterun, but he could guess, and Divines-help them. They had taken a mortal wound, straight from the start. The man might be a foreigner, but he knew of court well enough to work it in his favor.
The Jarl said, "Good. You've arrived just in time for the luncheon. Skyrim court is usually a pretty informal affair. Its a place for people to gather and discuss matters of the hold with each other, as much as with me. A time to simply mingle as well. If the Jarl needs everyone's attention, they'll get it. Take your fill of food, and speak to my court wizard, Farengar. He'll have your task. Your new steed is also ready at the stables just outside the main gate."
Jon said, "At once, my Jarl. However, may I also take some provisions for the road?"
The Jarl said, "Of course. Take two weeks worth. You'll need it. I have a feeling about you."
Jon's eyebrow rose, "What kind?"
The Jarl gave him one last inspection. He said, "Every once in a while, once an age really, history calls to people. Specific people. Each time, though each crisis on record, Great Heroes stood tall while others stood small. They faced the danger, while others ran away from it. Divines, they sometimes charged into the maws of Oblivion itself. They stared Dagon in the eye and didn't flinch! I think you're one of those people Jon, of house Noonien-Singh. I saw the truth in your eye. Last night, and right now. I almost pity that dragon. May the gods watched over your battles, friend."
Jon considered the Jarl's words for a moment, and other weighty matters as well. He turned away with a firm nod, and continued the tasks before him. Nazeem let out a slow breath at the lack of decorum in dismissing himself from the Jarl's presence. It seemed the foreigner wasn't infallible.
Jon walked over to the end of the long-table opposite of Nazeem. Jon paid the man no mind as the other tried to hide the mind he was. Jon chose not to try and insert himself into specific spot of the table that didn't befit his current standing, such as closer to the Jarl, which would no doubt have meaning. He also didn't try to insert himself into any of the court politics. Everyone seemed content with that, and left Jon alone while he continued with his tasks. For all they knew, he was just another adventurer, a wizard, the Jarl had a task for, a common occurrence. The fact that he happened to be from a proper house and company, and could make a stylish entrance, was of little consequence. Other weighty matters hung in their minds.
Jon sat down and ate his fill, as the Jarl ordered. There were some trays for food out, but no heaping piles of them. This was no grand feast. Some fruit, cheese of course, and half loaves of bread. A servant pushing a cart came and also made an offer of some meats that had just been cooked. Jon took a couple pieces of chicken, and to his surprise the flavor seem a universal constant. The Chicken tasted the same as ones on Earth, with some small differences from the animals alien diet. He savored the familiar experience as he did any new one.
Finishing up his small lunch, he proceeded to the edge of the kitchen entryway. It was a well run, if a bit chaotic affair. The mead hall of Dragonsreach was quickly being filled with those of higher standing to attend the light affair and discus matters of the hold, but also plenty of commoners and small-folk coming to mingle. Jon could see and hear that their options on matters of the hold were sometimes valued just as much as any of higher standing. The Jarl, sitting and observing, was a fair man indeed, but the kitchen staff might not think so.
They moved about in a flurry, never once hitting one and other, seemingly on instinct alone. A Head chef made calls in an accent that even Jon had a hard time parsing. Dirty dishes would come in for a wash, and fresh food would go out to replace the diminished fare on the long-tables for the Jarl's subjects. Jon stepped to the side to avoid one of the carts, and quickly took to the side wall to stay out of everyone's way. He heard a gruff and thick voice.
"Apologizes, milord, but you probably shouldn't be here. Its the middle of the lunch rush and we're hectic right now, as you see. You could be hurt." The gruff voice said.
If Jon were any other noble, he would admonish this man right now for the disrespect in his words and tone. But Jon wasn't. In this kitchen, the lowly servant was king. Jon also made a note that some people seem to have a preternatural talent for stealth, even against his Augment senses. Jon didn't even notice the small Nord until he spoke. Many dangers lie in this land, and any other Augment would be dead right now.
Jon said, "It is I who should apologize for disrupting your important work. However, the Jarl has allowed me two weeks worth of provisions for the road."
The gruff voice said, a little more respectfully, "Of course, milord, your provisions have already been prepared. Wait here, and I'll bring the cart so you may pack it."
Jon gave a nod in response and waited patiently. The cart came and he had his pick not only of processed food like cheese and bread, but also ingredients for stews and such. Even salt, apparently magical, as well. Jon wondered how many literal weeks and months of food he could stuff in his enchanted food pouch, more satchel, before the mass of it all made the enchantment stop working, or him immobile. Another weighty matter to consider.
He crossed the hall once again, and made his way to the alcove that represented the wizard's place of knowledge and power. A grand desk dominated he center of the room. Atop in sat all manner of scrolls, potions, gems, trinkets, maps and books Around the table sat tall bookshelves, filled with tomes and even ingredients for alchemy. There was a brewing table along the back wall, and an unidentified construct with a skull, not human, atop it and glowing runes set into it. Jon imagined that would be how they made enchantments. If he could have just one day in this room, with the knowledge contained within, he thought. Oblivion, if he could just have an hour to learn how to read. He saw the wizard was referencing, cross referencing, and moving on to separate lines of research as fast as he could on top of the seemingly disorganized spread.
Jon said, "Master Farengar?"
Farengar said, "Ha! While I appreciate the respect, I am no master, simply the court wizard of my home and city of birth. Are you a novice looking to lear-"
He glanced up from his work for a moment, before continuing on, "Ah, the big foreigner in robes. You've come for your task."
Jon said, continuing to be respectful, "Yes sir. What are the details?"
Farengar, continuing his work, said, "I'm researching the dragons, and I need you to fetch something for me. Well, when I say 'fetch' I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an artifact, an ancient stone tablet, that may or may not actually be there."
Three times is outside, perhaps enemy, action. Jon said, "Let me guess, Bleak-Falls Barrow."
Farengar's eyes shot straight up from his work. He said, "You are cut from a different cloth than most of the brutes the Jarl sends me, friend. How did you know?"
Jon replied, "Fate seems to be drawing me there. I am also tasked with retrieving and returning a claw from there that was stolen by bandits, and that was the first thing the Worm flew over when it left Helgan. Do you think the bandits could be collaborating with it? I saw the intelligence in its eyes, the Worm is no mere beast. It could recruit allies if it had something to offer."
Farengar paled at the implication, another line of research to preform. He also respected the Oblivion out of this man, a true thinker asking the right questions, in front of him. He said. "I do not know. Ancient myth speaks of their cunning, and of their cults. They did have followers at one point, but I can't see why a bunch of skooma addled bandits would work for a dragon after all this time, or why it would recruit them. I would assume they were simply looking for a payday in treasure. The claws are keys to doors there. Would I be able to inspect this claw once you have it?"
Jon said, "You would have to take that up with Lucian Valerius, of Riverwood. I've already promised its return. He also values it more than any amount of gold or treasure. A merchant. So I would not expect to be able to simply acquire it from him for yourself."
Farengar nodded. He was a Nord after all, and understood the value of ones word and honor. He liked getting out of the city every once in a while, so he would just make a trip to Riverwood to inspect it there. The implication of favor with the Jarl, Oblivion, not even implication at this point, would be something he could barter with.
The court wizard said, "Fair enough. As for fate calling you there, that is the realm of Hermaeus Mora, the Deadric Prince of knowledge and fate. Tread carefully if you believe you have his attention. He isn't as outwardly malevolent as some other Princes, but he is the most dangerous of any of them."
Jon said, "Thank you for your counsel. One more thing, before I take to your task. Lets say, hypothetically, a man has come from a land without magic, or knowledge of it in anything except myth and fantasy."
Farengar blinked a few times. And then a few more. He said, "...Okay. Hypothetically. That is well outside my experience, and seems impossible. A world without magic? However, one sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything outside of his experience as impossible. Dragons have just come back, after all."
Jon said, "Wise words. Lets also say this hypothetical man touched the mage stone."
Farengar thoughtfully said, "I would imagine that anyone that didn't already have magika would be given some by divine providence, as well as the normal blessing of understanding it more intuitively."
Jon said, "Lets say it did, and he can feel it inside him. Lets also say this man can't use what he has been given, despite his superior mental discipline."
Farengar said, "That is because the man is a wizard now. Not a sorcerer. The man needs knowledge. Spell tomes."
Jon said, "Can I buy those spell tomes? For a friend?"
Farengar leaned in and whispered, "I'll just give you some basic tomes, you'll need them for the dungeon. Why the not so subtle subterfuge?"
Jon leaned in and whispered, "Because I'm not going to just tell everyone I came here from another world in a flash of light, and was about to meet an Imperial beheading before the Worm showed up. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong fucking planet. You know how it goes."
Farengar said, "Oh yes. Best not go advertising that. It could be confusing to those who do not understand, or do not have the capacity too. As I said, I don't have the experience to help you, and even if I did, the dragons have went from an indulgence the Jarl allowed to my top priority. The College is your best bet."
Jon said, "That is where I was going to go until fate called me to Bleak-Falls."
Farengar squinted, "You know, there is one person I know of with the power to do something like bring a man here from a land without magic."
"Hermaeus Mora." Jon whispered.
Farengar warned, "As I said, tread carefully. You may in fact have his attention. Best not go advertising that either. People will think you cursed, and it wouldn't be a bad, or even wrong, assumption."
Jon paled finally at the implication that actual divine beings may lurking in his shadow. Watching. Waiting. How would he know? He wouldn't. He couldn't. All he could is tread carefully. Any other Augment would be dead already. Their arrogance would not allow them to survive Jon's current trials and the weighty matters he must consider.
Jon said, "Thank you again for your wise counsel. What of the spell tomes?"
Farengar flinched slightly. "Oh sorry, I almost forgot. This conversation has been most rousing, and I lose track of more mundane things easily. Here. I have four tomes. A flame spell. Sparks. Ice spike. And a basic ward of my own concoction. You'll probably find Draugr down there. Most undead and other magical creatures are weak to lighting magic. It saps the magika reserves of a wizard, or the life force of a magical entity. Fire will also work as most things are weak to it inherently. Don't even try frost spells. Those Draugr used to be Nords."
"'Ward of your own concoction,' is it experimental?" Jon asked.
Farengar said, "Somewhat. It's been tested, but takes great skill to use to its full effect. Too much; you should just use a normal ward instead. However, my spell still works as ward against magic, but if you concentrate the cast in your palm, instead of in front of you, then you can use it to block projectiles or parry strikes. It takes more magika to cast it overall, but a man with superior mental discipline should have no issues. However-"
Jon cut in, "One tiny mistake and you lose an arm or throat. Hence the skill issue."
Farengar smiled, "Precisely."
Jon, "So a 'basic ward,' there are more powerful ones?"
Farengar answered, "You can get ones more powerful by default, and in most cases you should always be looking for more powerful spells. But in the hands of a master, a basic ward that they've used extensively is certainly better than a master level spell in the hands of a novice, or even a new spell in the hands of the master. That goes for all spells really. The most important things in magic is you, your intent, and practice. You can always put more power behind even the most basic of spells."
As he cracked the seal on the tomes, and absorbed the knowledge within, Jon quoted, "Do not fear the man that has practiced ten thousand kicks one time, fear the man that has practiced one kick ten thousand times. Bruce Lee."
Farengar smiled wide, "There is wisdom in you homeland. Great wisdom. Use what I've given you, and make it though that ruin alive. Whiterun can only benefit from a mind like yours dwelling within its walls. It wouldn't do to waste it on the floor of a crypt. Divines be with you." Invoking 'the Divines' instead of 'the Eight' was Nord code for invoking Talos as well.
Jon nodded and turned away from the court wizard, and made for the stables of Whiterun. His trials and labors continued.