Chapter 48: Establishing Connections Part 1

The following morning, I woke up early, feeling surprisingly refreshed. I reached for the metal box containing my toothpaste on the small nightstand. The toothpaste inside was a concoction of ingredients I had painstakingly gathered and mixed over the past few months, an attempt to recreate the luxuries of my former life. The taste was... unique, but it served its purpose.

After brushing my teeth with the artifically made toothbrush, I donned my illusion amulet and headed downstairs to the main bar area of the inn. Rael took his place in the corner, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble. I took a seat at the counter, the warmth from the nearby fireplace dancing across my face.

The bartender employee, one of many here at the inn unlike in the game where there was only 2, an old Nord named Adrianne, slammed a menu down in front of me, the paper crackling with age. I glanced over the offerings, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Honningbrew Mead and Black-Briar Mead were the two main contenders in the market, and both had their own distinct flavors and fan bases. The power behind these beverages was immense, and I knew that controlling their distribution would be a significant step towards my ultimate goal.

Maven Black-Briar, the cunning matriarch of the Black-Briar family, had her claws in every corner of Skyrim. Her influence stretched from the shadowy streets of Riften to the highest towers of the Imperial City. The Black-Briar mead was more than just a drink; it was a symbol of her power and reach. And yet, here in Whiterun, Honningbrew Meadery stood as a testament to the fact that even the mighty could be challenged.

Maven had influential power she had built up after restoring the Black-Briar business. She had contacts across Skyrim and other places of Tamriel. She even had the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood assassin's organisation essentially in her pocket.

Her mead, the Black-Briar, was her crown jewel. It flowed through the veins of the nobility and the common folk alike, a sweet poison that whispered her name with every sip. It was a testament to her cunning and ruthlessness. Just like that, she tempted the whole world with her mead's renowned taste, she amassed wealth and profits that she could but half of Skyrim by herself. And that was not an exaggeration. If u had 80 million gold from Ahbiilok's horde, then the Net profit she must be making is 300 million septims+. But that is only my best guess.

Her influence stretched like a spider's web, delicate yet unbreakable, entangling everyone from the lowliest thief to the mightiest of jarls. Her name was synonymous with power, whispered in the same breath as the Emperor and the Thalmor themselves. Her reach was vast, her network of spies and agents infiltrating every corner of the continent. It was said that if you spoke against the Black-Briars in the morning, by nightfall, you would be visited by a shadow that would silence you permanently.

But even the mightiest of spiders had their vulnerabilities. The Honningbrew Meadery, nestled within the very heart of Whiterun Hold, was a thorn in her side, a bastion of independence that refused to bow to her monopoly. The sweet nectar they brewed was a symbol of hope and resilience, a testament to the stubborn spirit of the Nords. The mead flowed freely, its golden hue a beacon of defiance against the dark tide of the Black-Briar's influence.

Honningbrew mead was quite new as it began circulation just shortly before the Battle of the Red Ring in Cyrodiil. But still, Maven knew that Honningbrew Meadery would rise quickly to compete against her business even if it was weak and new now.

The room was alive with the chatter of patrons and the clinking of mugs. I listened intently, picking out snippets of conversation about trade routes, political unrest, and rumors of a dragon sighting near Whiterun. As

'Goddammit Ahbiilok! I said stay hidden! Well it's good anyway. It was still 5 years before the Dragon Crisis events begins and Alduin's return. No one will believe a Dragon would be alive. Although this dragon could be Paarthurnaax and not Ahbiilok. It doesn't matter.'

I looked around the room, my eyes finally landing on a young woman sitting by the hearth. Ysolda. Her fiery red hair and piercing green eyes were as vivid as I remembered from my game days. She was dressed in a plain blue dress, the fabric of decent quality, but nothing that suggested wealth or status. Her posture was straight, yet there was a weariness in her eyes that spoke of long days and hard work.

she was a merchant, or well she tried to become one but had resorted to selling and dealing with drug merchandise with the Khajiit trading caravans.

I however, intend to grant her wish to become a merchant, but he will harness her full potential and have her work for me by giving her an offer she can't refuse.

As I approached Ysolda, the warmth of the hearth cast a gentle glow on her freckled skin. She looked up, her eyes wary but not unkind. "Greetings," I said, my voice a careful blend of the Nordic accent and the confidence of the illusion I had crafted. "I am Hroldir, a traveler seeking companionship on this cold morning."

Her gaze searched my face, looking for any signs of deceit, but found only earnestness. "I'm Ysolda," she replied with a tentative smile. "I run a stall here in the market. What brings you to Whiterun?"

Sivreth leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with an inner fire that the illusion could not fully hide. "I've come with a proposition," he said, his voice low and earnest. "A chance for you to achieve your dreams and more. I seek a partner, someone with a keen mind for business, someone like you, Ysolda."

Ysolda's smile faltered, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Sivreth leaned in, his gaze unwavering. "I wish to start a new venture, a meadery that will not just serve the local taverns, but also offer a variety of goods from across Tamriel. It will be a place where people come not just to drink, but to trade and share information." He paused, watching the emotions flicker across her face. "And I believe you have what it takes to help me in this endeavour."

Ysolda's eyes widened in disbelief. "Me? But I'm just a girl who works at the stalls. There are surely far more capable people than me, so why did you choose me exactly."

Sivreth's smile grew warmer, his eyes filled with a knowing glint. "Ah, but that is precisely why I have chosen you, Ysolda. In the shadow of giants, the true leaders emerges, i think that's a saying said here in Skyrim. You have the heart and the drive to achieve greatness, and with my guidance and resources, we can build something that will be remembered for generations to come. Besides, I don't need someone that has experience and knowledge and wealth to betray me without consequences. I need someone I can trust. And you won't be the only one, someone I have under me will be with you to help. Isn't it far better than what you are doing now, take the chance now, or lose it forever as I give this position to someone else. I know of three others that can take your place, but I know that with training, you can be of great help to me. Think about it, I'll get everything ready and set up the necessary documentation by week's end."

Ysolda's skepticism began to melt away, the flattery and the promise of a better life too tantalizing to resist. "Alright," she murmured, her voice shaking slightly. "But what do I need to do?"

Sivreth leaned back, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of a new opportunity. "For now, simply wait," he said. "In one week, I will have everything ready. A place for us to start, a supply of goods from distant lands, and the beginnings of a network that will make our meadery a beacon of prosperity. Trust me, Ysolda. This is your chance to leave your mark on history."

With the seed of ambition planted, Sivreth left the tavern, the warmth of the fireplace fading behind him as he stepped into the crisp Whiterun air. Rael waited outside, his eyes reflecting the torchlight that danced along the cobblestone streets. We made our way to the stables, where a sturdy horse was waiting, its breath misting in the cold. The animal knew the way to the Honningbrew Meadery, a place that had once been a bastion of hope and independence, but would soon be a pawn in a much larger game.

The journey to the meadery was short, the path well-worn by the boots of travelers and merchants alike. The meadery lay southeast of the city, nestled against the rolling hills and surrounded by the farms that supplied its ingredients. It was a simple structure, its wooden beams sturdy and its thatched roof thick with age. The boilery stood separate, a larger and more industrial building that spoke of the craftsmanship that went into the brewing process.

The night was still young when I arrived, the moon casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground. I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music from the nearby city, a stark contrast to the quietude that shrouded the meadery. The place was unguarded, a testament to the peace that had reigned here for generations.

Sneaking into the meadery was child's play for someone of my experience. The wooden door to the main hall creaked open with a soft protest, the scent of fermenting honey and yeast assaulting my nostrils. Inside, the warm glow of candles and torches flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls adorned with bottles of various shapes and sizes. The ledgers lay open on a sturdy wooden table, their pages yellowed with age and stained with spilled mead.

My eyes scanned the entries, noting the meticulous care taken in recording every transaction, every ingredient, and every visitor. The inspector's visit was indeed scheduled for four days hence, a fact that brought a wry smile to my lips. I had always admired the Nords for their dedication to their craft, but such adherence to tradition could be exploited. With a few deft movements, I slipped the tainted vial into the next batch of mead, the liquid within sloshing gently. It was a weak concoction, but enough to cause distress and suspicion.

With the deed done, I retreated into the shadows, watching the flickering flames cast shadows across the room. The meadery was a simple place, its charm lying in the rich history and the fierce loyalty of its patrons. But that loyalty would soon be tested, and the fate of Honningbrew Meadery would hang in the balance. And just when it seems like it would collapse and fail, he would come in with forged documentations of the Deed of Ownership and claim Honningbrew Meadery for himself. He had opened the safe and taken a glance at the Deed, his photographic Memory memorised the document and he would naturally forge a copy using the quil of Gemination.

Three days later, as the first light of dawn kissed the horizon, the inspector arrived, his carriage rattling down the dirt road. The man was a stickler for punctuality, something that would serve Sivreth well in his scheme. The Falmer watched from a safe distance as the inspector dismounted, his nose already wrinkling at the faint scent of something amiss.

The inspector strode into the meadery with the confidence of a man who had seen it all. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the shelves laden with bottles, the barrels of fermenting mead, and the ledger that lay open on the table. He approached the bar, his hand reaching for the nearest mug.

And like that the domino's fell, and everything went off without a hitch. Honningbrew Meadery was framed, and those that were meant to take possession of Honningbrew Meadery with the real Deed, had been dealt with either by by use of the first word of Bend Will on their weakened and beaten bodies. Or they were eliminated.

Leaving only me with the identical and undistinguished replica of the Deed of Honningbrew Meadery, I placed Ysolda's name as the Co-Owner and went ro show proof to the officials officer and commander Caius of the Whiterun City guard.

With that he went back to Ysolda and she, like predicted, agreed to join him and accepted his proposal.

And like that the week had ended, and another step closer to forging a new destiny in this world.

**********

I was finally able to get Grammerly to work properly after 2 years, thank God!

I'm using it shared between my Pc and my phone, and I have ro admit that the writing quality of the last few chapters have definitely been improved massively.

Let me know what you are thinking of this improvement in chapter literature, that way I will know if it's worth staying to this way or not as I can Potentially save time on chapter making and editing.