I Became a Side Character in the World Of Skyrim

The roosters crowed loudly outside, their sharp cries slicing straight into Alex’s skull like tiny daggers.

He groaned, clutching both sides of his throbbing head as he slowly sat up.

“Hnngh… ugh… my head… it hurts so much…”

Even his own voice felt too loud.

The blurry memories of last night crawled back to him flashes of laughter, mugs clinking, music playing, and himself being dragged into a wild dance circle by villagers and guards alike. He remembered spinning around, shouting, drinking, then drinking even more, until the world became soft and warm and wonderfully stupid.

“Hehehe… nggh… I feel so nauseous…”

His stomach churned as he pushed himself to stand.

The air inside the inn reeked of spilled ale, sweat, and the deep, sour smell of people who drank way past their limits. Bodies were sprawled everywhere guards slumped over tables, villagers sleeping against barrels, someone snoring loudly on the staircase. Alex stepped carefully between them, lifting his foot high each time so he didn’t trip. One man lay face-down with a chicken drumstick still in his hand.

“Gods… what a mess…”

He pushed open the inn door and stepped outside. Morning mist clung to the air, cool and gentle, brushing against his feverish skin. The sun hadn’t fully risen; instead, a pale orange glow stretched across the horizon, touching the tops of the pine trees. The river beside the inn flowed quietly, clear and cold, reflecting the sleepy morning light.

Alex staggered over, crouched, and scooped water into his hands. He splashed it onto his face again and again, letting it drip down his neck.

“Huft… so refreshing…”

The cold shocked him awake for a moment but the pounding in his skull stayed.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting out a long, miserable breath. The hangover clung to him stubbornly, refusing to be washed away. His vision pulsed with each heartbeat, and every distant rooster crow felt like someone striking a drum beside his ears.

The world around him was peaceful birds chirping, the gentle rustle of morning wind but inside Alex’s head, chaos still raged from last night’s celebration.

Through the foggy inn window, Alex could see the innkeeper dragging his feet across the wooden floor, muttering curses under his breath as he kicked aside empty tankards and crumpled tablecloths. The old man’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion; his hair was sticking out wildly as if he’d been pulling at it all morning.

“Haaiissh…” he groaned loudly, bending down to pick up a broken mug before tossing it into a bucket. “Who’s going to pay for all of this? Look at this disaster! If I count everyone’s debts, I’ll go bankrupt… absolutely bankrupt!”

Alex winced not from the scolding, but because the innkeeper’s voice vibrated painfully inside his hangover-ridden skull. Still, seeing the old man struggling alone while stepping around passed-out customers made him feel a pinch of guilt.

Without saying anything else, Alex reached into his pouch. The sound of coins clinking faintly echoed in the quiet morning air. He pulled out an entire thick stack of gold 1,000 gold and held it out casually.

“Here, take it. Keep the change.”

The innkeeper froze mid-complaint. His eyes widened slowly… then sparkled. Truly sparkled bright and yellow like he was seeing actual sunlight gleaming off treasure. His entire face lit up, wrinkles and all.

“Uwaaah! As expected of our hero!”

He practically lunged forward and snatched the gold with both hands, hugging the stack to his chest like it was a newborn baby.

Alex smirked a little, then gestured toward the interior of the inn. The place looked like a battlefield after a tavern war; guards were slumped over chairs, sprawled across benches, and one even lay on the floor with his helmet covering his face. Someone’s boot was sticking out from under a table.

“Hey, uncle,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow, “aren’t the guards supposed to be on duty?”

The innkeeper exhaled heavily, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve as he stepped over a snoring guard.

“Just let them be,” he said tiredly. “They’ve been through a rough time. And it’s the first time in ages ages, mind you that they’ve encountered a flying monster like that.”

He shuddered at the memory, eyes momentarily drifting toward the window as if expecting another dragon to swoop by. The morning light cast long shadows across the messy floor, giving the quiet inn an eerie calm after last night’s chaos. The only sounds were distant birds and the occasional loud snore from one of the drunk guards.

Hearing the innkeeper’s explanation, Alex narrowed his eyes slightly, curiosity creeping into his expression. He folded his arms and leaned against a wooden pillar near the counter, watching the old man shuffle around the room.

“Hey, uncle,” Alex called out, voice calm but inquisitive, “you know a lot about Skyrim, right?”

The innkeeper snorted softly without looking up. He dragged a dirty rag across a stained table, scrubbing circles with tired, sluggish motions. Dust motes floated lazily in the morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

“Of course,” he said with a hint of pride, puffing out his chest a little. “I know almost everything worth knowing. But lately…”

He paused, sighing dramatically as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“…it’s been hard to support myself and keep this inn running, you know?”

He glanced sideways at Alex, giving him a very obvious look eyebrows lifted, hand slightly out, lips subtly pursed.

A look that screamed: information isn’t free, boy.

Alex stared at him flatly.

“Haiish… what kind of innkeeper are you? I even saved you…”

Still, he reached into his pocket and flicked a 10-gold coin pouch toward the man.

The innkeeper caught it with surprising speed for his age. His entire demeanor changed instantly his back straightened, his expression brightened, and he cleared his throat importantly.

“Hehe… business is business,” he said, adjusting his apron like some grand merchant. “But since you’re our hero, I’ll give you a discount. One payment, and you can ask anything you want until you’re satisfied.”

He leaned closer over the table and tapped it with two fingers.

“So what do you want to know?”

Alex rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gaze drifting upward as he pondered.

“How strong is the armor worn by the people of Skyrim?”

The innkeeper froze for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“Armor?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Strange question for the morning…”

But money was money, and he had already accepted the gold.

He set the rag down, leaned on the table with both palms, and answered,

“From what I know, the strongest is ebony armor. Anything above that… I don’t know much.”

Alex’s eyebrows lowered slightly. His suspicion confirmed. Skyrim’s people weren’t nearly as powerful as the stories suggested.

“I see…”

He shifted his weight, tilting his head.

“Then… have you ever heard of Daedric armor or dragon armor?”

The innkeeper’s face twisted into a thoughtful grimace. He lifted a hand and scratched the side of his head, messing up his already messy hair.

“Those armors?” he said slowly. “They only exist in legends.”

He straightened his posture, as if recounting old tales from memory.

“As for dragon armor… we’ve forgotten how to forge it. We lived without dragons for hundreds maybe thousands of years. The knowledge vanished. Only a few old manuscripts mention it.”

He lowered his voice a bit, as if sharing a darker secret.

“And Daedric armor… extremely rare. Only a handful of smiths could ever forge it. Some say they needed special conditions like forging under a full moon, or making a pact with a Daedra… or other strange methods.”

Alex leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table while tapping his fingers thoughtfully.

“Then… what’s the strongest spell you’ve ever heard of? And can they cast it continuously?”

The innkeeper paused mid-wipe. He raised a hand to his chin and stroked his short, rough beard, his eyes lowering as he searched his memories.

Outside, a gentle breeze rattled the wooden shutters, carrying the faint scent of pine and morning dew into the room.

“The strongest spells I know,” he began slowly, “are chain lightning and fireball.”

He lifted his hand, mimicking a crackling gesture as if electricity danced between his fingers.

“I saw chain lightning once just once. When it hit a target, it didn’t stop. It jumped, leaping from one enemy to the next… like watching a storm snake across the battlefield.”

He then opened his palm wide in an explosive motion.

“And fireball… gods, that spell is like witnessing an entire room detonate. A huge fiery blast, heat and smoke everywhere terrifying but impressive.”

He squinted at Alex.

“As for casting them continuously… do you mean by chugging mana potions?”

Alex shook his head firmly, waving his hand dismissively.

“No. I mean firing the spell nonstop without stopping, without gaps.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows shot up. He let out a short, nervous laugh and scratched his cheek.

“Hmmm… from everything I’ve seen and heard? That’s not possible,” he admitted. “A mortal’s mana would run dry instantly. Even master mages need time, potions, or rest. Continuous casting? No way.”

Alex’s expression darkened slightly. He tilted his head, brows furrowing in thought.

“Maybe it’s because the world has been too peaceful,” he murmured. “The biggest conflicts were just wars humans versus humans, elves, or other races. Nothing like… true terror.”

He glanced toward the window where smoke still faintly rose from last night’s celebration fires.

“But now dragons are appearing out of nowhere. It’s like the world itself is telling us… it’s time to change.”

A cold shiver ran visibly across the innkeeper’s shoulders. He hugged himself, rubbing his arms as if trying to ward off a sudden chill. The atmosphere in the inn grew heavy, the early morning light paling slightly as clouds drifted over the sun.

“H-hey now… don’t say something like that, friend…”

His voice cracked a little.

Alex looked at him again, more serious this time.

“Well, uncle, you can see what’s been happening. Tell me when was the last time Riverwood was attacked by a dragon before this?”

The innkeeper’s face shifted from unease to full realization. His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly open.

Then

“AHHH!!! Damn it why in my era?!”

He clutched his head dramatically, pacing in small frustrated circles like a villager who just learned his taxes doubled.

Alex couldn’t help but grin. A small, victorious smirk crept across his lips before he burst out laughing.

“Hahaha! Maybe you’re just unlucky, uncle.”

He clapped the man on the shoulder, the friendly gesture making the innkeeper wobble slightly.

“But don’t worry. I’ll handle it. At the very least, I’ll try to reduce how often dragons decide to turn villages into charcoal.”

The innkeeper breathed out heavily, still gripping his head.

“You hero types are crazy…”

But Alex wasn’t done. He leaned closer again, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“One more thing. Do you know anything about Daedric artifacts?”

The innkeeper froze, his expression shifting as though he’d suddenly tasted something familiar. He snapped his fingers softly.

“Hmmm… Daedric artifacts?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded slowly.

“Yes… I think I’ve heard of them or read about them somewhere.”

He leaned his weight on the table and lowered his voice as if speaking about taboo secrets.

“They’re artifacts with powerful effects, right? Dangerous… strange… otherworldly. I’ve only heard stories never seen one myself.”

A faint breeze brushed past again, rustling a few loose papers on the counter. The innkeeper’s face showed a mix of curiosity and fear, as though simply mentioning such items carried a hidden risk.

They continued talking for a good while, trading information the way travelers exchange campfire stories. The inn grew quieter as the drunken guards kept snoring, and rays of morning sunlight warmed the dusty wooden floor. A faint breeze drifted in through the cracks in the window, carrying the smell of pine trees and fresh earth.

Then

creeaak…

The sound of the inn door opening sliced through their conversation.

Alex’s ears twitched first. He slowly turned his head, curiosity shifting into alertness. He pushed himself up from the chair, standing tall instinctively almost like preparing for danger.

But instead of danger, he saw her.

Astrid stepped through the doorway, framed by the morning light behind her. Her golden hair glowed softly, strands shimmering like liquid sunlight. Her elegant, sharp features were relaxed, yet her eyes normally calm were clouded with something heavy. Worry? Fear? Relief?

Alex blinked, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t ”

He didn’t finish.

Because Astrid closed the distance in two quick steps and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Alex stiffened in surprise, his heart tripping over itself. Her scent snowberries, steel, and a faint sweetness filled his senses. Her body was warm against his, almost trembling. For a moment, everything around them faded the snoring, the messy inn, the morning light until all he could feel was her.

Her grip tightened just a little, as if she needed to confirm he was real and safe.

Her voice came out soft, fragile… almost breaking.

“I don’t want to lose you….”

Alex’s breath hitched. She never sounded like this. Astrid the woman who faced danger without flinching was trembling against him.

Her voice was slightly hoarse, and Alex noticed the back of his shirt felt damp.

Tears?

His expression softened instantly.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” he asked gently, lowering his arms to return the embrace. He placed one hand on the middle of her back, brushing his thumb in slow, soothing circles. “You’re okay, right? You’re not hurt?”

He couldn’t reach her head she was taller, after all so he held her close, comforting her the only way he could. His touch was warm, careful, almost protective.

Astrid buried her face against his shoulder, her breath hot and shaky. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stayed there, clinging just a little tighter, as if she had been terrified of losing him.

The innkeeper glanced their way, eyebrows raised, but quickly pretended to polish a mug.

In that quiet morning, with sunlight painting golden lines across the floor and dust drifting like tiny stars, the two of them stood in each other’s arms not lovers, not yet but their hearts understood something unspoken.

They cared.

Deeply.

More than either dared admit.

And just like that…

Alex met her again.

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