Skyrim: Lore Accurate Necromancer

Erik stood in the dark hallway, watching with a gleam of satisfaction as the last of the subjugated skeleton warriors shuffled obediently into the fortress's hidden basement. There was a certain poetic justice in it: this was the same skeleton he'd first tried—and failed—to control upon awakening in this world.

Back then, he'd collapsed from sheer magicka drain, his soul too weak to withstand even the expert necromantic spells he now wielded with ease. Now, though, his power had grown, and Snowhawk's restless dead bent to his will.

Still, this was the limit of what he could achieve with a broken soul, as long as he didn't want to attract the attention of Molag Bal. His next step to growing stronger would be mending his soul and shedding vampirism to embrace Lichood, but that was for the future.

'Not so far anymore...' Erik mused, thinking about the future.

He ran his fingers over the cracked stone walls as he moved through the fortress, envisioning its future. Snowhawk Fortress was situated in an ideal location for trade—nestled just near the Sea of Ghosts and strategically on the road linking Eastmarch, Hjaalmarch, and Haafingar.

It was a nexus between the holds, and in the right hands, it could become a formidable stronghold of commerce and influence. Erik imagined ships docking nearby, unloading goods that would travel straight through the heart of Skyrim, granted he'd make proper roads and docks. His goal wasn't just a fortress; it was a hub of industry, a seat of power to rival even the Jarls' holds.

But the fortress had its limits. Snowhawk's land wasn't fertile—no sprawling farms or grazing pastures would sustain it. Yet beneath its rocky grounds were veins of rich minerals, iron, and silver deposits, waiting to be mined and forged.

Once he settled the prisoners who chose to remain in Morthal into the fort and turned them into a true source of income, he could then turn to the mines, and with an undead workforce that neither tired nor demanded coin, he could transform the fortress into a bastion of industry with the knowledge he continued to gleam from the Dwarven Lexicon.

Erik's attention turned back to his undead warriors. He had spent hours casting Enslave Undead on each of them, his magicka reserves sorely tested. The mass version of the spell was beyond his reach, frustratingly so.

Until he could expand his abilities, he was forced to cycle through the tedious ritual: cast the spell, down a magicka potion, cast again. Each incantation brought a new skeleton under his control, a chain of undead servants bound to his will, ready to dig, build, and defend.

Putting his fingers to his mouth, Erik let out a loud whistle, and Geri emerged from the other side of the hallway. "Come, boy, we'll be leaving soon...'

The man he sent Gabriella to fetch should have arrived at Morthal by now. First, he needed to brew some potions to replace the ones he exhausted subjugating the skeleton warriors. Then he'd have to set up a few traps around the fort to stop anyone from conveniently occupying the fort once he leaves.

Finally, he can head to Morthal and start the process of rebuilding the fort in earnest.

...

The flickering glow of the Moorside Inn's hearth cast long shadows across the cramped room as Enthir, Valdimar, and Gabriella occupied a corner table, each locked in a tense standoff. The inn was almost empty at this late hour, with only the occasional patron casting a curious glance at the unlikely trio.

Enthir, the College's resident dealer of "exotic wares," tapped his fingers impatiently on the table, eyes darting towards the door every few moments.

"I can't believe I've been dragged all the way from Winterhold for this," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair with a sneer. "You told me this would be quick, but here I am, waiting around like some... common courier. You realize how valuable my time is, don't you?" He shot a glare at Gabriella, as though her silence itself was an insult.

Gabriella, the Dark Brotherhood's shadowy assassin, merely narrowed her cold, dark eyes at him. Her voice was low, a hint of menace underlying it. "Keep quiet, mage. Thane Erik will be here soon, and your petty complaints are not helping.."

Enthir scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm only here because of that artifact you showed me," he snapped, his fingers twitching as if reaching for the precious item that had brought him out of his comfort zone in the first place. "But I didn't agree to be kept waiting in this… swamp."

Valdimar, Erik's ever-loyal housecarl, placed a reassuring hand on Enthir's shoulder, though his firm grip suggested it was more about keeping him seated than comforting him. "Patience," he rumbled. "Thane Erik will arrive shortly. He's not one to leave his people waiting without reason."

Enthir wrenched his shoulder out from under Valdimar's hand. "Yes, well, I don't intend to sit here all night. Some of us have standards," he grumbled, fixing Gabriella with a haughty look. "And you, miss 'professional whatever you are'—a little gratitude would be nice. I don't know who this Erik fellow is, but I can only assume he really needs me for him to make you drag me all the way here..."

Gabriella merely crossed her arms, her gaze ice-cold. "Consider yourself lucky to still be breathing, mage. Thane Erik might be in need of your services, but you'd do well not to act presumptuous..."

Before Enthir could deliver another snide retort, the inn's door swung open, and Erik strode inside, his silhouette tall and imposing against the dim light. At his heel trotted Geri, the loyal little corgi, who paused briefly to shake a bit of snow from his coat before padding into the inn, his small claws clicking on the wooden floor.

As Erik made his entrance, the atmosphere in the Moorside Inn shifted noticeably. Gabriella stood quickly, bowing her head with a quiet reverence, while Valdimar straightened with a wide grin, bowing deeply to his thane. Even Enthir, who had held onto his irritation up until now, seemed to pause, his gaze narrowing slightly as he assessed Erik.

Enthir, never one to miss details, couldn't help but notice the almost palpable aura of magicka surrounding Erik. Though it wasn't quite on par with the raw reserves of the Archmage, there was something about it—thicker, more potent. He could practically feel the energy resonating in the air, like the taut hum of an overdrawn bowstring.

Clearing his throat, Enthir raised a brow, speaking with his usual mix of respect and sarcasm.

"And so, you must be Thane Erik," he said, voice dripping with an edge of both curiosity and skepticism. He cast a sidelong glance at Gabriella and Valdimar, who were still visibly pleased by Erik's arrival. "Those two had quite a lot to say about you, you know, but you certainly kept me waiting."

Erik smiled, unfazed. "For that, I apologize," he replied smoothly, his tone calm but carrying an undertone of authority that left little room for further complaints. "I had business to tend to—important, but still no excuse."

His gaze lingered briefly on Enthir, who quickly straightened under the weight of that look.

As Erik approached their table, he gestured to the intricately carved staff Gabriella had brought as a down payment, resting against the wall. "The staff I sent with Gabriella was part of your payment for this arrangement I'd like to discuss, but you may consider it a token of appreciation for the wait," Erik added, his smile easy but calculated.

Enthir's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile at that. "How generous of you," he said, the sarcasm notably absent from his tone for once. He nodded approvingly, fingers twitching as though itching to claim his prize.

"You have my thanks, Thane Erik." Gesturing grandly at the chair across from him, Enthir's eyes gleamed with renewed interest. "Please, take a seat. Let's talk business."

As Erik settled into his seat, he turned to Gabriella and Valdimar. "You two are dismissed," he said, his tone light but firm. Gabriella inclined her head without a word, disappearing from the table with a ghostly grace. Valdimar gave a respectful nod, casting one last look of admiration at Erik before following Gabriella out.

Now alone with Enthir, Erik leaned back, watching the mage's guarded expression with mild amusement. Enthir shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly against the table, obviously curious but far from entirely at ease.

"Now, down to business," Erik began, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I have a task for you, Enthir. Something a little different from your usual assignments."

Enthir quirked an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his dark eyes. "I'm listening, but I do hope this isn't a simple errand. I came all the way from Winterhold, after all, and as charming as Morthal is…" He trailed off, glancing distastefully around the dim, smoke-filled inn.

Erik chuckled. "No simple errand, I assure you," he replied, leaning forward. "I want you to oversee a construction project of mine."

Enthir's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Construction?" he echoed, his tone dubious. "You dragged me from Winterhold to oversee some mundane building project? Really?"

Erik shook his head, unbothered by Enthir's skepticism. "This isn't just any construction project. I need an overseer with an open mind, and someone with enough discretion not to go running to the nearest Jarl or Vigilant of Stendarr," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You see, the workforce is… unconventional. Mostly undead."

Enthir blinked, processing this revelation. He cleared his throat, weighing his words carefully. "Unconventional is putting it lightly," he muttered. "Still, I find it hard to believe you couldn't find any number of... less reputable characters willing to oversee a project involving undead labor... you can practically walk into any old cave in the wilderness, and you'll find a dozen necromancers, who are more than willing..."

Erik chuckled, nodding. "You're not wrong. I could very well find a hedge mage or some dark conjurer who'd gladly take this on for a few septims." He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "But you see, Enthir, I consider this a test."

Enthir narrowed his eyes. "A test, you say?"

"Indeed," Erik continued, his tone turning serious. "I know of your talents, Enthir. Your skills as a peddler of… shall we say, exotic goods? And I value them highly." He paused, letting the words sink in. "This project needs someone with your unique connections and expertise."

Enthir stroked his chin, looking at Erik with growing intrigue. "And to what end, exactly, am I being tested?"

"Snowhawk Fortress," Erik said simply, watching Enthir's reaction. "I intend to transform it. Not just repair it, but rebuild it into a commercial hub—a stronghold of trade that could rival the great ports of Skyrim."

"Snowhawk Fortress?" Enthir's skepticism had faded, replaced by a glint of interest. "You mean to rebuild that old, undead-infested ruin?"

Erik's smile widened. "The undead lurking there are no longer a problem, but an asset."

He offered a nod before continuing. "But yes. I intend to do that, and more. The fort's proximity to the Sea of Ghosts makes it an ideal point for establishing trade routes—not just across Skyrim, but to lands far beyond. This isn't some petty smuggling operation. I'm talking about a legitimate network, with connections to Morrowind, High Rock… even Solstheim."

Enthir's eyebrows rose as he absorbed Erik's ambition. He leaned back, nodding slowly as if finally understanding. "An intriguing idea, I'll grant you. But what exactly does that have to do with me?"

Erik sighed, his gaze steady. "Not only am I interested in traditional trade goods, but I also intend to incorporate magical artifacts, rare alchemical ingredients, and precious metals. I need someone with the acumen to handle such an operation, to manage these unique resources and secure suppliers in ways that only someone with your particular skills could."

Enthir's eyes lit up with a glint of intrigue, but he kept his expression controlled. "So you want me to run it. A merchantry, of sorts?"

Erik nodded, a satisfied smile curving his lips. "Precisely. I need someone savvy enough to navigate the markets, wise enough to know what's valuable, and connected enough to secure the rarest finds. And," he added with a small smirk, "discreet and knowledgable enough to handle certain merchandise that would give others pause..."

Enthir's eyes gleamed with intrigue, though a hint of wariness remained. He drummed his fingers on the table, casting a calculating look at Erik. "Well, you've certainly piqued my interest…" he murmured, his voice trailing off thoughtfully. "But this won't be as simple as building docks and rolling in gold. Solitude's harbor and the East Empire Company have a chokehold on business. Getting merchants to divert from well-established routes won't be easy."

Erik's lips curled into a knowing smile. "I'm glad you brought this up, Enthir. If you'd accepted so easily, I might've questioned both your sincerity and your competence," he said, leaning back with a relaxed confidence. "But there's no need for concern. I've thought this through. All the resources I need are at my disposal—the only missing piece is someone with the wit to manage them while I focus on… other pursuits."

Enthir eyed him, tapping the table, visibly more engaged now. "All right, let's hear it, then. What cards do you have to play that'll make Snowhawk a genuine threat to Solitude?"

Erik's smile deepened, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "For one, I have enough gold to buy an entire Hold outright." He let the words settle before continuing.

"And my connections with the Thieves Guild and Maven Black-Briar are second to none. But that's just the beginning," he said, leaning forward, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "I also have the Dark Brotherhood and a mercenary company numbering over a hundred skilled warriors under my command."

Enthir's jaw tightened as he took it all in, his mind racing to assess just how formidable a network Erik had assembled. His thoughts must have shown in his expression, because Erik's smile only widened.

"And if that's not enough to secure Snowhawk's success…" Erik continued, leaning even closer, "then I'm more than willing to take matters into my own hands." As he spoke, he let his magicka swell around him, filling the air with a thick, almost tangible pressure that sent a chill down Enthir's spine.

The sheer intensity of it was unlike anything he'd felt before, even from the most accomplished mages of the College. Cold sweat beaded on his brow, and he fought to keep his composure, unable to shake the sense of latent power emanating from Erik.

After a tense silence, Enthir finally swallowed, managing to maintain his diplomatic tone. "You certainly know how to make an impression, Thane Erik," he said, his voice slightly strained. "I think we can work out an arrangement. Snowhawk… well, it might just stand a chance with you pulling the strings."

Erik chuckled, sitting back as the weight of his magicka faded, leaving Enthir with an odd, almost surreal sense of relief. "Good. Then we have an understanding." He extended a hand, and Enthir, still slightly unsteady, clasped it, sealing the deal.

As they shook, Enthir's thoughts continued to race with the possibilities—and dangers—of aligning with a man who held such raw ambition and power.

...

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