Metalborn in Skyrim

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The morning after his nighttime experiment with duralumin, Kael woke to the soft light filtering through the small window of his quarters in Understone Keep. His body still ached from the exertion, and his mind buzzed with the lingering effects of the overwhelming surge of power. Duralumin was a tool, he thought, but one to be used sparingly—and carefully.

Kael sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, flexing his hand, now fully healed thanks to his gold metalmind. The raw strength he'd unleashed last night replayed in his mind: the boulder's shattering impact, the distant boom, and the way his body had felt like it might tear apart.

"Careful next time," he muttered to himself before standing and strapping his bag to his back. The day was young, and despite his lingering fatigue, Kael decided it was time to explore Markarth. He had seen the city in passing on his way to Understone Keep, but now he wanted to experience it more deeply, to immerse himself in its people and culture.

Kael's first stop was the forge he had passed the previous day. The clang of hammer on steel rang out even before he arrived, echoing through the narrow streets of Markarth. The blacksmith, a burly Nord with arms as thick as tree trunks, worked tirelessly over a glowing blade on his anvil. The forge roared, and sparks danced in the air like fireflies.

"Good morning," Kael said, raising a hand in greeting.

The blacksmith barely glanced up, his focus fixed on the blade. "Morning," he grunted, his voice rough but not unfriendly. "Need something fixed? Or are you here to gawk?"

Kael smirked. "Neither, actually. Just wanted to see the work of Markarth's finest."

That earned him a sharp laugh. The blacksmith finally looked up, his face smeared with soot. "Flattery doesn't buy you a blade, traveler. But you've got an eye for quality, I'll give you that."

Kael nodded toward the glowing sword. "Who's that for?"

"Guard captain commissioned it," the blacksmith said, lifting the blade to inspect his work. "Fine steel. Needs to be. The Forsworn don't go easy on Markarth's patrols."

"Good work like that might save a life," Kael said, meaning it.

The blacksmith gave a short nod, a flicker of respect in his eyes. "Maybe. But you can't save everyone."

Kael watched the man for a while longer, admiring his craftsmanship before moving on.

Kael's next stop brought him to The Hag's Cure, a small alchemy shop tucked beneath Markarth's imposing stone walls. The air inside was rich with the mingled scents of herbs and potions, earthy and sharp, tickling his nose. Shelves crammed with glass vials, dried plants, and unusual ingredients made the shop feel more like an apothecary's lair than a simple storefront. Behind the counter stood a sharp-eyed Breton woman, her hands busy organizing a rack of tinctures.

"Welcome to The Hag's Cure," she said smoothly, not glancing up. "Looking for something specific, or just browsing?"

Kael wandered closer, his eyes scanning the shelves. He hadn't planned to visit, but the assortment of oddities intrigued him. "Browsing," he replied casually. "You've got quite the collection."

The woman chuckled lightly, her focus now shifting to him. "That's the goal. If you're in need of remedies, potions, or a way to escape trouble, you've come to the right place."

Kael's attention fell on a particular bottle nestled among others on a central shelf. Its contents shimmered faintly, a silvery liquid that seemed to glow even in the dim light. The label, written in a neat hand, read Potion of Invisibility.

"Potion of invisibility?" Kael asked, tilting his head toward it. "How much?"

The Breton followed his gaze and gave a slight smile. "A rare one," she said. "Thirty seconds of invisibility—enough to disappear when it matters most. That one's three hundred septims."

Kael winced at the price. "Three hundred, huh?" he said, digging into his bag. His fingers brushed against the ruby he'd found in the chest outside Markarth. He pulled it free and placed it on the counter. "What about this? Would it cover it?"

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she picked up the gem. Turning it over in her hands, she examined it closely, the ruby catching the light and casting a deep red glow. "A Flawless Ruby," she murmured, a hint of appreciation in her tone. "Where'd you come across a stone like this?"

Kael shrugged lightly. "Found it on my way here. Didn't know it was flawless."

The woman smiled knowingly. "It is, and it's worth more than the potion, if I'm being honest. But I'll take it. Fair trade." She placed the ruby to the side and reached for the invisibility potion, handing it over to Kael.

As he carefully tucked it into his pouch, the woman paused, then turned to grab another vial from a nearby shelf. "Here," she said, sliding a minor stamina potion toward him. "Consider it a little extra for the trade. You never know when it might come in handy."

Kael raised an eyebrow at the unexpected generosity but took the potion with a nod. "Thanks."

"A pleasure doing business with you," she replied, setting the ruby in a secure box. "Remember, potions like this aren't easy to come by. Use them wisely."

The market square was alive with activity, a vibrant hub of trade and chatter nestled between towering stone walls. Merchants called out to passersby, their voices competing for attention over the general bustle of the crowd. Stalls overflowed with goods—fresh produce, intricate jewelry, finely woven fabrics, and raw ores glinting in the sunlight.

Kael approached a vendor selling gemstones and inspected the display. A diamond gleaming in the sunlight caught his eye.

"Ah, a fine choice!" the merchant exclaimed, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "That one's straight from the mines. Perfect for a gift or an enchantment."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "You've got enchantments here?"

The merchant chuckled. "Not here, no. You'd need a mage for that. But a gem like this? It's got the quality for it."

Kael didn't buy the diamond but engaged in some casual haggling over smaller items, more to learn the art than to purchase anything. The exchange left the merchant grinning and Kael a few septims lighter but with a pouch of useful supplies.

As Kael wandered farther into the square, he spotted two children darting between the stalls, their laughter cutting through the noise. One of them, a small boy with tousled blond hair, stumbled into Kael's leg while chasing his friend.

"Whoa there," Kael said, steadying the boy. "You okay?"

The boy looked up, wide-eyed. "Sorry, mister! I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Kael said, smiling. "You running from trouble or just trouble yourself?"

The boy grinned mischievously and darted away without answering. Kael chuckled and shook his head.

Nearby, an older woman sat at a loom, weaving intricate patterns into a length of fabric. Kael paused to watch, fascinated by the skill and precision in her movements.

"Something caught your eye?" she asked, not looking up from her work.

"Just admiring," Kael replied. "That takes patience."

"Patience and practice," she said, her hands deftly threading the shuttle through the loom. "But it keeps me busy, and it keeps the trade flowing."

Kael nodded, watching her hands move. "You've got a steady hand. Ever thought about teaching?"

She glanced at him, her expression softening. "Perhaps someday. For now, I weave. And you, traveler? What keeps you busy?"

Kael hesitated, then said, "Looking for answers. Maybe a bit of purpose."

The woman gave a knowing smile. "Well, Markarth has plenty of both—if you know where to look."

Leaving the market behind, Kael wandered toward the city's waterways. The sound of rushing water grew louder as he approached the aqueducts and channels that crisscrossed the streets. Bridges of stone arched gracefully over the canals, connecting different levels of the city.

Kael paused on one of the smaller bridges, leaning against the edge to watch the water cascade below. The chill of the mountain-fed river reached him even from this height, its misty spray refreshing in the midday sun. The intricate carvings on the bridge's stone surface caught his attention—ancient Dwemer designs, their purpose long forgotten but still beautiful.

As he stood there, a Nord fisherman nearby struggled with his line, cursing under his breath. The rod bent dangerously, and the man's boots slipped on the wet stone.

"Need a hand?" Kael asked, stepping closer.

The fisherman glanced at him, skeptical but desperate. "Aye, if you've got the strength to haul in whatever's on this line."

Kael flared a bit of pewter and grabbed the rod, his muscles surging with power. Together, they pulled hard, and with a final heave, a large fish broke the surface, splashing water everywhere.

The fisherman stared at the catch, wide-eyed. "By the Divines, that's a big one! Thanks, stranger. Name's Haldar."

"Kael," he said, shaking the man's hand. "Glad I could help."

"Drop by anytime, Kael," Haldar said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Next time, I might even have some fish for you."

As the afternoon wore on, Kael found himself drawn back to Understone Keep. Its grandeur loomed over the city like a sentinel, its ancient halls shrouded in mystery. Inside, he explored the vast stone chambers, marveling at the intricate designs and strange mechanisms left behind by the Dwemer.

One particular relic caught his eye—a massive, dormant centurion that stood motionless in a corner of the main hall. Its golden surface was tarnished with age, but its design was unmistakably formidable. Kael approached it cautiously, running a hand along the cold metal.

"Impressive, isn't it?" came a voice from behind.

Kael turned to see Calcelmo, the city's court wizard and a scholar of Dwemer artifacts. The older man adjusted his spectacles as he approached, his expression a mix of pride and curiosity.

"It's incredible," Kael admitted. "Hard to believe something like this was built so long ago."

"The Dwemer were unparalleled in their ingenuity," Calcelmo said, his tone reverent. "I've spent my life studying their creations, but they remain as enigmatic as ever."

Kael nodded, his eyes lingering on the centurion. "I'd hate to see one of these things active."

Calcelmo chuckled softly. "You're not alone in that sentiment. But if you're curious about their history, feel free to visit my laboratory. Knowledge is the key to understanding, after all."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kael said, offering a small smile.

As the day drew to a close, Kael returned to his quarters in Understone Keep, his mind buzzing with everything he had seen and heard. Markarth was more than just a city—it was a living, breathing testament to the complexities of Skyrim's history and its people. From the hardworking blacksmith to the bustling market vendors, the quiet weaver, and the eccentric wizard, every encounter had deepened his understanding of the world he now found himself in.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Kael looked out the small window at the stars beginning to dot the night sky. He felt a renewed sense of purpose. Markarth had given him more than a place to rest—it had reminded him of why he was here. There was work to be done, and Kael intended to do it.

Tomorrow, he would set out to scout the Reach for forsworn, but tonight, he allowed himself a rare moment of peace in the City of Stone.