The Divine Hunter

Chapter 485: The Companions

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

The skies brightened up, the rays of the morning sun shining upon the keep. A sheet of gold draped upon the happy couple, brightening their smiles even more.

Jon—who finally got his wish—had changed into new clothes, and he was holding his wife’s hand. His face was brimming with delight, and a big grin carved itself on his lips. “Thank you, for all you did for us.” His wife blushed, staring at her husband.

“I see your family has agreed?” Flynn crossed his arms, looking at the newlywed couple with pride.

“Well, they had to make some changes.” There was a hint of regret in Olfina’s eyes. “Rumors can make or break people. Fralia didn’t want anyone to think that the clans changed their allegiance, so we were exiled on the surface.”

“Same thing with Olfrid. From now on, I am no longer part of the Battle-Born Clan, and I’ve moved out of the house.” There was not a hint of sadness on Jon’s face. In fact, he looked relieved. “Olfina’s no longer a Grey-Mane either, but we’re allowed one visit every month. We’re now mere commoners of Skyrim,” said Jon with a smile. “But it matters not. As long as I’m with her, nothing will be a challenge we can’t surpass. Perhaps one day we’ll leave Whiterun and see what the other keeps have to offer.”

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Roy said. He was happy he could help a couple get together, and he was a little melancholic, since it reminded him of his own lover. “But if you do leave Whiterun, please always be careful. With the Stormcloaks running about, things are no longer safe.”

The couple exchanged a look and took something out of their bags. “We have a few presents for you.”

It was an ancient book with a black cover, a diamond-shaped crystal, and a pouch. They shook it a bit, and the clinking of coins came from within.

“Eorlund gave me this talisman when I was a child. Made from gold and a flawless gem. It’s worth a thousand coins, but I’m fine with the ring Jon gave me.” Olfina said, “And I bought this book from a certain… sorcerer. It’s something to do with magic, so you might find some use for it.”

Jon rubbed his ring. Sheepishly, he said, “Sorry we can only offer this much. The ring cost a lot of coins, and we need to keep some for our future.”

The trio smiled and accepted the gifts. Arvel and Flynn split the coins, while Roy took the book from the couple and checked it out. Arvel told him the title was On Oblivion, and Roy tucked it away in his inventory space. The moment he touched the crystal, something flickered in his eyes.

“So what now for you two?”

“We’ll get a room in the Bannered Mare for now. Once the dragon attack blows over, we’ll move to Riverwood. They say the weather’s always great there, and it’s a beautiful place.”

“Very well. Let’s get a drink when we have time.” Flynn waved the couple goodbye.

“Thank you for your help.” The couple bowed at the trio and saw them off. “May Kynareth protect you.”

“Feels good working as the emissary of the goddess of love sometimes.” Flynn smiled.

Arvel was in a good mood too. He would never have done any charitable deed before, but he had to say it felt great to be thanked by someone. Once they said goodbye to the couple, the trio made their way to the stone staircase in the eastern side of the garden.

Roy’s attention was on his character sheet.

‘You are in possession of a special crafting material—a mysterious flawless gem.

Gabriel is eligible for the following upgrades:

1. Level up any current affixes: Simplify, Stun Bolt

2. Consume the gem and gain one new affix:

Mark of the Gem: Costs 20 Mana. Any successful hit by Gabriel’s bolt will mark the enemy. The mark lasts for 24 hours. As long as the mark exists, Gabriel deals 10% increased damage to the marked enemy. Gabriel can track and search the marked target’s location until the mark disappears.’

Most monsters can’t even take one hit from Gabriel. This skill is obviously for hunting down large beasts, and I’m now in a world where dragons exist. Alright, this is what I want.

And Gabriel’s appearance changed. On top of its flesh-like appearance, a layer of skin made of beautiful gem dust showed up, and it sparkled under the sun. The weapon was now beautiful. “A bit too beautiful. And it stands out too much.”

***

The mead hall was like a big circular plate standing on the mountain, facing the elements without fear. It was only slightly lower than Dragonsreach, making it the second highest spot in Whiterun. The hall was brightly lit, and the first thing that met Roy’s eyes was the bonfire. That was practically a staple in all of Whiterun’s households, but the bonfire here was in the shape of a rectangle and much bigger than most bonfires. Three rectangular tables surrounded the bonfire, and all kinds of alcohol lined the table. Alto, mead, beer… Anyone could take a mug off the table and drink any moment they wanted to.

Roy could imagine the guests surrounding the crackling open fire during feasts and drinking the night away, their faces red with delight. The air was merry. He then looked around. The hall was tall and spacious, and it had a rough kind of decoration. Ivory, shields, and trophies hung on the walls, and four gargantuan pillars held up the ceiling that was high up in the air. The hall was not split into two floors, and thanks to that, it looked majestic. Roy noticed a staircase in an inconspicuous corner leading to the basement, and the witcher posited that The Companions’ bedchambers must be in there.

A few people were roaming the hall, looking at ease. Two were in grey steel armor, and they had broad shoulders. The other one was a huntress sitting in a corner. She had maroon hair and tattoos on her face. She was decked out in sleeveless iron armor that accentuated her curves.

Even within the hall, the men still had their weapons with them, and one made it a point to keep his blade strapped to his back at all times. All three of them had a circle of black dye around their eyes like eyeshadow, just exaggerated. It lent them an air of ferality.

Roy stared at the man with a sword on his back, and he cast Observe. At the same time, he buffed Observe with Guardian, turning Observe to Level 4.

‘Farkas

Gender: Male

Age: Thirty-two years old

Status: Member of The Companions, member of The Circle, ? (Protected by a similar kind of special energy Sanguine has)

HP: 150

Strength: 14

Constitution: 15

Dexterity: 13

Perception: 18

Will: 10

Charisma: 6

Spirit: 6

Skills:

Basic Swordplay Level 6, War Cry, Frost Resistance, Blessing of the Stars—The Warrior, Horseback Riding Level 6, ?’

***

He wasn’t the only one with secrets. The huntress and the man named Vilkas had extraordinary stats, at least compared to the other Nordlings, and they were shrouded in a veil of mystery. Roy wondered what kind of trick they had up their sleeves. The energy they have is like the energy Sanguine has. Perhaps they’re related to a Prince?

The intrusion of the trio garnered them the attention of the Companions.

“You’re from Dragonsreach? What business do you have here?” Farkas asked. His voice was grating, and yet it was piercing.

“Ah, we’ve heard that this hall is home to the most powerful warriors in Whiterun, so we’re here to make some friends.” Flynn grinned at the Companions.

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re the best drinkers around.” The man who looked a bit like Farkas stood up. He was holding a one-handed weapon, and the man tossed a bottle of booze at the trio.

Arvel took it and uncorked the bottle. He downed a swig and handed it to his friends, who took big swigs as well.

“Nice drinking. Come, sit. Name’s Vilkas.” The man waved at the trio. “And this hunk of junk here is my brother, Farkas. This lovely lady here is Aela. She might be beautiful, but she’s deadly. That’s how nature works. Most men can’t even get close to her in a fight.”

The trio introduced themselves and sat with Vilkas. Farkas raised them a toast, and Roy sniffed the air. He tasted the scent of a wild animal lingering in the air, and he frowned. The Companions have pets?

The group clinked their mugs together, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of mead. They downed their booze and leaned into their chairs as they let out a burp.

“You three drink well. Must be warriors as well.” Farkas grinned toothily, and his incisors were prominent. “I can see how you escaped Helgen, so tell us, how powerful was that dragon? I heard it turned the whole city into ash with a single breath. There was a look of interest on his face, like he was picking his prey.

“That is not how you treat our guests, Farkas.” Vilkas pulled a chair back and plopped down across the trio, staring at them with a quizzical look in his eyes. “I presume you’re here to join the Companions and share in the four-thousand-year-long honor?”

Roy froze. Four thousand years? That’s even older than when the first witcher was born. The Companions are ancient.

“Kodlak is more than happy to accept any and all warriors from the corners of this land. Pass the trial, and you shall be one of us. The Companions aid their members always. We have each other’s backs, and this world can never harm us from the shadows.”

Aela approached the table and pressed her hands down on the surface of the table, then she leaned over, glaring at the trio sharply like she was a panther staring at her prey. At the same time, her generous bosom was in full view.

Arvel had to do his best to seem interested in the organization. “We can join as long as we pass the Trial? Even if we’re not Nordlings? Even if we can’t fight well?”

“We’re not an exclusive organization. Not strictly speaking. You can join as long as you want power and aren’t afraid of challenges.” Farkas joked, “Well, you’ll be declined if you’re a vampire or a Dremora or something like that, of course. No problem if you can’t fight well. As long as you want to learn, everyone can be your teacher.”

Arvel translated everything to Roy, but the witcher still looked uninterested. Still, he was surprised to find out there were vampires in this world. That’s just like the witcher world. And what’s Dremora? Servants of the Princes? This place is a lot bigger and complex than I thought.

“So what kind of rules or responsibilities are we bound to?” asked Flynn.

“Not many. No infighting, no meddling with politics, no bullying the weak, and fight with honor at all times.” Vilkas punched his left hand. “You’ll need to ask Kodlak Whitemane for more details. But first, you’ll have to make a good first impression. Most Nordlings have a soul that passes that anyway.”

Arvel caught an important message. “So you mean the Companions have always been neutral in this feud between the empire and the Stormcloaks?”

“Yep, and that’s how we survive.” Aela tapped on the table and sat down in front of the trio, her legs crossed. “The only way for an organization to survive is to stay out of politics, or else it’s going to crumble in no time. From what I’ve heard, you three are neutral as well, aren’t you?”

The trio nodded, and the Companions gave them friendly looks.

“Sorry, but one last question.” Flynn paused for a moment. “What exactly do you mean to this keep? What kind of work do you do?”

“The Companions have been here far longer than the keep has,” said Vilkas proudly. “We’re not Balgruuf’s servants, if that’s what you’re asking. And we make our coin by settling the keep’s people’s problems. Bears, sabertooth tigers, you name it, we take out the threat. And we settle small arguments and feuds. The Jarl employs our services sometimes, and so do the people in the keep. Mostly mercenary work. And we also sell things made in the Skyforge.”

Roy nodded. So they’re more or less a mercenary group, only the members are more like a team, and they’re neutral when it comes to politics.

“So, will you take the trial?” Farkas looked like he wanted the trio to take the trial, and there was obviously some kind of fun to be had if that were to happen.

“Um, we’re actually here for something else.” Arvel looked at the companions. “I believe you’re interested in Helgen’s dragon attack, Farkas?”

“Of course.” Farkas stood up and circled the bonfire, his chest puffed out, and he said loudly, “It’s been more than twenty years since I joined the Companions. I’ve hunted many creatures in Skyrim. Sabre cats, bears, mammoths, and even giants. I’ve lost interest in hunting regular creatures. Now that dragons, that have disappeared for a thousand years, have made their return, I would love to witness their glory with my own eyes.”

The trio was delighted. Good. This negotiation might go easier than expected.

“And you’re in luck. You have the perfect chance to witness a dragon up close.” Arvel finished a mug of beer and wiped the foam off his mustache. “The dragon attacked Helgen first, and it assaulted the Thalmor near Rorikstead yesterday. If we’re right, it might attack the keep next.”

“We’ll be working with the keep’s soldiers, the Battle-Borns, and the Grey-Manes to take down this dragon soon.” Flynn extended his hand. “Join us in battle, and you’ll have a glorious history to speak of in the future.”

“They will call you… the dragonslayer. Think about it, mate.” Arvel had a look of worship on his face. “There was only one man who had that honor, and that was already a few eras back. If we can defeat or even kill the dragon, then the whole of Skyrim… No, the whole empire will worship you.”

Farkas’ breathing became labored, and he clenched his fists. He was tempted, but his brother said nothing.

“Ah, so that’s what you were thinking. You want the Companions to work for free.” Aela sneered, and she looked at the trio sharply, seeing through their plan. “Putting honor and risk aside, shouldn’t you be making an offer if you want us to work? We aren’t running a charity here.”

“Ah, I apologize for that.” Arvel heaved a sigh of relief. “The Jarl will reward the warriors of this battle greatly. He is more than willing to pay you a mountain of coins. You can see this as a request if you will.”

Farkas and Vilkas exchanged a look, but Aela shook her head and stood up. “I’m not as sturdy as the lads. You want to slay a dragon, that’s your business.”

Arvel looked at Farkas and Vilkas. “Care to introduce us to more members?”

“Not now.” Vilkas stared at Flynn for a moment, then a bit longer when it came to Arvel. When he laid eyes on Roy, he froze. Or to be exact, he noticed Aerondight, and that took him by surprise. “We’re interested in the dragonslaying business, but we must test your skills. Try to gain our acknowledgement, friend.”

“And you’re suggesting…”

Farkas held his nape and smirked. “Care to spar in the arena? It’s behind the mead hall. No magic allowed. Only swordsmanship.”

“Of course.” Flynn’s courage flared. “But this is just a sparring session, yes?”

***

A group of six walked into the yard, and Flynn stepped into the arena’s center, wearing nothing but fur armor. He held an iron sword in his right hand and a leather shield in his left, starting a sparring session with a well-equipped Vilkas.

They circled around each other for a while, trying to gauge their opponent’s level. Through Flynn’s slightly clumsy footwork, Vilkas could see that he was a beginner, and he eased up a little.

Flynn charged ahead like a bolt of lightning, hiding half his body behind his shield. He slammed into Vilkas, but the Companion did not budge an inch. Flynn swung his sword down on Vilkas’ shield, but the metal deflected it. Before Flynn could pull his blade back, Vilkas hit Flynn’s collarbone with his pommel. The sword was forged in the Skyforge, and even the pommel alone had power behind it.

Flynn grunted, and his collarbone swelled as pain surged through his head. Beads of sweat poured forth from his forehead, but he clenched his teeth and went in for another attack. He tried his best to block, sidestep, and counter, but he was no match for the veteran swordsman.

Ten seconds later, Flynn found the blade of Vilkas firmly held against his throat. “Flynn, correct? I can see you just started swordsmanship.” Vilkas tossed a bottle of potion to him. “But you have a strong will and great courage. Even at a disadvantage, you still pressed on. You’ll be a fine warrior.” He shook the dumbfounded Dragonborn’s hand. “You’re acknowledged.”

“So it’s my turn, then?” Arvel spun his daggers around, and another battle began.

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