Chapter 9: The Fire of the Forge
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"Life's a forge! Yes, and hammer and anvil, too! You'll be roasted, smelted, and pounded, and you'll scarce know what's happening to you. But stand boldly to it! Metal's worthless till it's shaped and tempered! More labor than luck. Face the pounding, don't fear the proving; and you'll stand well against any hammer and anvil."
―Lloyd Alexander, Taran Wanderer
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-Nicolas-
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Contrary to popular belief, combat is not Nicolas' favourite activity... No, Nicolas is a blacksmith at heart. The seed was planted when his grandfather brought him to the family's forge nearly a century ago.
He remembers one of his first discussions with Circe, when they were just friends, and how for only the second time in his life, a woman had genuinely listened to him, for hours, about the application of Aura during the smelting, forging and assembling process. Of course, if one did take into account transmutation and transfiguration, she is, by far, one of the best craftswomen he has ever met. She brought to him new methods, knowledge and much more. And through her, he got to meet two of his now best friends, two of the tallest men he has ever seen.
The red haired and bearded Hephaestus, or Vulcan as he prefers to be called nowadays, god of fire and metal, one of the patron gods of the smiths of Terra, weapons maker and armorer of Olympus.
And Eitri, the king of the "Dwarves" of Niðavellir, a race of blacksmiths and close allies of Asgard. For three-metre tall beings, the word Dwarf, somehow, takes on a new meaning.
Speaking of dwarves. The friendly slap in the back Nicolas just received, almost launched him to the ground face first.
" 'Tis good to seeth thee, Arc!" The (cough'Giant'cough) Dwarf says laughing (with his false accent).
"It's been a while Nick. How's it going kiddo?" Vulcan asks with a large, toothy smile.
"I'll be better once my ribs mend back together, old man. Eitri. Vulcan. Always a pleasure. And I see you brought friends." Says Nicolas, smiling and looking at the other four uncannily robed gentlemen.
Two of them are tall, dark-skinned men. Both are dressed and feel like warriors. One of them is a stoic man with shaved hair carrying a large and enchanted war-hammer on his back, and the other, with stringy white hair, judging by the sword he carries at his side and particularly by his posture, seems to be a formidable swordsman.
The two other men appear to have elven heritage, but with bright red eyes and grayish skin tones, and unlike their other friend, both seem to be Scholars.
All four seem to radiate... a form of mystical energy? It feels more like Aura than Mana, like a hybrid of the two, but something that has a much closer connection to the Soul than to the body's Life force.
"Aye, alloweth me introduceth you—" Before Eitri can speak further, the door opens and then closes abruptly.
His son Jaune leans his back and arms against the doors, and with his eyes wide, he looks like someone who has just been to war, and suffered severe losses.
"...Well, I wanted a better opportunity to properly introduce you to my son." Nicolas sighs. "Jaune, this Giant Dwarf here is Eitri, king of Niðavellir, and the one with the literary smoking and flaming beard is Vulcan, the weapon maker and armorer of Olympus. Eitri, Vulcan, makes the acquaintance of my son, Jaune." Nicolas says with a proud smile.
For a good minute, nothing is said, the six guests are too surprised by the sheer raw power that the child exudes. Jaune remains in the same position, more afraid of the terror that lies somewhere behind those doors than of the individuals in that room... Nicolas can swear that a faraway "𝙅𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙮𝙮𝙮!" echoes behind him.
"Holy Smokes, Arc! That's a mini-You!" Says Vulcan laughing, "Nice meeting you, kid!"
"Aye, greeting young Jaune. 'Tis good to finally seeth Nicolas having a son." The Dwarf greets after kneeling, holding his large hand for the child to shake.
"...Hello." Jaune timidly says before taking one of the large fingers in his small hand.
"That some strength thee has't th're, lad. So what art thee running hence from?" Eitri asks kindly.
"...Nora." Jaune murmures after looking around both left and right.
"Aye, that lass. Thorsdóttir. 'Can understand... That little minx is a real terror." The Dwarf says, bobbing his head. Eitri then stands up carefully and gestures to the four other men. "These art mine newfound companions, from a world called Nirn. I accidentally stumbled upon their planet with the Bifröst, after trying a new typeth of enchantment for the mould of a weapon I'm working on."
The two... elves? Bow slightly in greeting, the other two nod their heads in respect to the father and child. The four men look at each other, and after a silent agreement, one of the elves speaks.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, the guild of mages centered in northern Skyrim, which is itself in the northern part of the continent Tamriel. I am a Dunmer, more commonly known as Dark Elves, who I understand are different from the ones the Asgardians have faced before."
"I am Neloth, Master enchanter and a Wizard-lord of House Telvanni, one of the great houses of Morrowind, which is a province in the northeastern corner of Tamriel. My home and laboratory tower, Tel Mithryn, are situated in Solstheim, an island located northeast of Skyrim. And as you can attest, I am also a Dunmer."
"My name is Isran, I am a Vampire hunter, and a Redguard, that is all."
"Well that was short." Nicolas keeps a polite smile.
"Do not dwell too much on our friend, he is a man of few words. I am a proud Redguard of Hammerfell, my name is M'urgar." He taps his chest.
"I was born in the desert of Alik'r, and I am one of the last of the Sword-Singers. All my life I have sought lost knowledge, texts and training in the Shehai Shen She Ru, or the way of the spiritual sword, to become what I am today, an Ansei, or a "Saint of the Sword", in your language." He lightly bows his head in greeting. "When I spoke to Lord Eitri about what it was, the ability to manifest an ethereal sword named the Shehai from my very soul by sheer force of will and pure thought, he said that it was similar to what one of his friends was capable of. For the last decade, in vain I have searched for others like me, until today I hope." The tanned man says, his eyes locked with those of Nicolas.
With a nod, Nicolas, who is standing a few metres away from M'urgar, takes a slight breath, then gets into position, his two feet, parallel to each other, and with the gesture of taking out a sword from an invisible scabbard in front of him, a blade of an incandescent golden amber light comes to life and bath the room in its warm colour. The smile on M'urgar's face is that of someone who has finally reached his purpose, of someone who is no longer alone. And with his own movement, a greenish-white blade appears and casts its own light across the chamber. Then M'urgar start speaking,
"They appear to be similar, with only a few differences in their creations. Maybe after a few spars we can-" The Sword-singer doesn't have time to finish as another light blossoms next to them.
The glow is difficult to behold, as it is of the purest of whites. This light does not outshine the others... on the contrary, it appears to amplify and magnify their own many times over. They all look in surprise and wonder at where the light comes from. And here, held between the hands of a child, is an ever-changing and glowing-looking stick. The boy with a smile on his face, holds it like a part of himself, his gaze is lost into the construct born from the light of his Soul.
"... Bloody hell, Arc. That really is a mini-you." Says a smiling Vulcan, his keen eyes watching the child with much more intensity.
"Yeah... That's my son." Nicolas states proudly.
"So, you have the beginning of the emergence of Undead, both vampires and Draugrs. Some sort of insidious invasion by the Thalmor; a faction led by another race of Elves... or Altmer as you call them. And as if that wasn't enough, you have extra-dimensional beings known as Daedra also attempting to invade your world?" Asks Nicholas who is sitting behind his desk and with a humming Jaune on his lap.
"That is correct." Answers Savos, who was elected to be his people's Spokesperson.
"And exactly what sort of assistance are you hoping for?" Nicolas asks a little more seriously.
"Well yes, your world is much more advanced than ours, so perhaps we were hoping to get expertise to better protect us from creatures from other planes and Realms, education on various topics, and even skilled tradesmen to teach and help us improve the lives of the people of Skyrim, and to repair our infrastructures... our college and towns are... not in good shape." Finishes Savos.
Nicolas acquiesces with a nod, and takes a minute to mull it over before picking up his pen and a stack of papers, then begins to scribble down what they will need for such a venture.
"Architects, landscape architects and architectural technologists. Building and quantity surveyors. Building services, civil, structural and geotechnical engineers." He said to no one, and then stopped before curiously asking Savos; "Your world does not use electricity yet?" Savos sighs at the question,
"Alas, that knowledge was lost when the Dwemers vanished." The Arch-Mage said.
"The Dwemer? Another race of Mer I presume." Speaks Nicolas.
"Yes, and for reasons that are not really related to size, are sometimes called Dwarven. They are an ancient 'Lost Race' of Mer and were a technologically very advanced civilization. In many respects far ahead of the other races and civilizations of their and our times. They are well known for their skill and revolutionary developments in technology, engineering, crafting methods, metalwork, stonework, architecture, city-planning, science, mathematics, magic, and the academic arts."
"But for unknown reasons, and under circumstances still under investigation, the Dwemer seemingly disappeared. It is still not known who or what caused the disappearance of the Dwemer, nor if they all faded away at the same time or over a long period. Dwemer ruins, what remains of their settlements are scattered across Skyrim. After the disappearance of the Dwemer, their cities remained largely untouched and their buildings structurally sound. A few Falmer, who are now feral, reclaimed some of the ruins. And the Automata of Dwemer construction still patrols the halls of these ruins, these... machines present an immense danger to those who wish to traverse, navigate and explore." Savos explains.
"...That's good to know." says Nicholas, seeing a good opportunity to expand in a land filled with untapped resources and the nearly untouched vestiges of an old civilization. "Relics and loot, here I come!" He thinks, continuing to list and write what sort of workers he will need. Jaune seems to share Nicolas' thoughts if what the father can feel in his mind is correct.
"So... Aura masters, demolition experts, masons, plasterers, painters, decorators, plumbers, scaffolders, carpenters, woodcutters, thatchers, even glass workers. Hmm… What else? Ah, yes. Tailors, drapers, dyers, saddlers, furriers, chandlers, tanners, armourers and probably a lot of blacksmiths and trainers." Nicolas sighs. "That and a full contingent of Huntsmen and soldiers." He then looks to Savos, "This is going to be a costly venture. But you already knew that." he tells the Arch-Mage which in turn nods.
"The college and town, Winterhold, as you can imagine, has a lot of unused and untapped land. That and the large number of ruins that still contain a vast amount of treasure, loot, texts and lost knowledge. I have brought a wide range of samples if you are interested." Savos says, to which an interested Nicolas responds with a nod.
"I am curious, but what about whoever leads your lands? Won't they have a problem with us digging around?" Nicolas asks.
"That… Won't really be a problem anymore. The Jarl of Winterhold, Korir, died of sickness less than a month ago. Thaena, his pregnant wife who was also his Housecarl, assumed the mantle of Jarl upon his death." Savos took a few seconds to breathe before continuing. "She is far more proactive and driven than her late husband ever was. But... She, and even her husband when he was alive, have been ignored by the other Jarls, and even Torygg, the High King, has not entertained their missives, because apparently, Winterhold is not considered one of Skyrim's important holds anymore."
"And so she reached out to you for support." Nicholas finishes Savos' line of reasoning.
"Exactly. And at first she feared that you were all coming from a plane of Oblivion." Savos chuckles, "But, after Lord Eitri took time to speak and explained to her that most of our believed about our world were children's tales and nonsenses made to explain the 'metaphysics' simply and easily, and that the other Myths however, which are probably more accurate, are skewed with cultural and religious bias. Then add the fact that this happened during a period of a time known as the Dawn Era and well… You get the painting."
"After a half a day of explanation, she became much less apprehensive about working with peoples of other worlds." Savos said as he sighs. "But she will probably want to meet you personally. Give me a minute to show you the map of Skyrim…"
"There it is, Winterhold is right here, in the northern part of Skyrim. The land isn't the largest but it's still substantial, the mountain range and tundra contain large quantities of resources; Robust timber, good quality stones, rare metals, important Soul Gems deposits and plenty of wildlife for game. The Sea is also teeming with life and is a prime opportunity for a major commercial harbour. And like I said, there are a lot of ruins all over Skyrim, and no Jarl will interfere if, say, a few adventurers start visiting and plundering these abandoned places." Savos then turns to Neloth which nods to the Arch-mage before clearing his voice.
"After Savos and Lord Eitri visited Solstheim and met Lleril Morvayn of House Redoran, another great house of Morrowind, ruler of Solstheim and councillor of Raven Rock, a town along the southwest coast of Solstheim." Neloth takes a breath and continues. "Lleril Morvayn upon the advice of the Arch-mage and the missive of the new Jarl of Winterhold, decided, with the approval of Fanari Strong-Voice, the Chieftain of the Skaal Village in Solstheim, after she was chosen to become the leader of her people in the wake of her predecessor's death, to give me permission to enter into negotiations with the House of Arc of the world Remnant."
After an hour of discussion, Nicolas agreed to help after having sufficiently prepared his workers and soldiers, in a few months, with the financing, training and constructions of multiple businesses, boats, structures and fortifications.
Nicolas also decided that in several years, when his son will be old enough to accompany him, to come for a year or two to Skyrim.
"So you said you had 'samples'?" A smiling Nicolas asks.
"Yes, of course, there they are." Savos and Neloth then each take one of their bags before emptying their contents onto Nicholas' large wooden desk. Their bags seem to contain more space than they appear, "Probably a form of dimensional shenanigan." he ponders.
What comes out of them are various books, ingots, enchanted weapons, armors, gems, stones, dried or still potted plants. The three Forge-masters, Nicolas, Eitri, Vulcan and even Jaune, all become very interested. Savos takes one of the ingots, a yellow-cream one of "carved" appearance, suggesting that it is either quartz-like or stone-like.
"This one is what our people call an ingot of refined Moonstone, it is alloyed with other materials to create stronger products." He then takes another ingot that is similar to a black glass-like substance. "This is Ebony, a rare volcanic metallic glass, and is one of the most precious substances in Tamriel. A closer equivalent would be obsidian, though ebony is far tougher and more malleable than the brittle obsidian."
As Savos explains, a gem the size of Nicolas' fist, slowly rolls in his direction… He looks to Jaune who has his hands extended toward the iridescent crystal who has a bluish-green metallic sheen, varying from transparent to opaque from place to place. All men, even Savos, who stop talking, turn to the child to curiously watch the telekinetic event unfold.
Nicholas turns to Savos for an explanation, which the Dunmer does in turn.
"This is a Soul Gem, what we call a Morpholith, it is a naturally-occurring "magic" stone that can house the souls of the dead. It is used for enchanting weapons and armor or for recharging previously enchanted weapons."
"This one is a Greater Soul Gem, it is perfectly safe, and you will need a soul-trapping spell to capture a soul after... killing a living being, only souls of lesser or non-sapient creatures can be entrapped in this one, and yes, I am aware that it is as barbarian as it sounds, but thankfully, using a filled soul gem always results in its destruction, and releases the soul after using the energy it contains… Unfortunately it is the only way to fill them for enchan-" Savos doesn't have time to finish, as Jaune, who has already grabbed the Gem, begins to pour Aura into it.
The Soul Gem then starts to glow more and more, until it looks like it has become a miniature humming star. Jaune then hands over the shiny stone to Savos by making it levitate.
"...wha-" Savos is cut one more time as Neloth takes the Soul Gem from his hands.
"Fascinating! Even Black Soul Gems don't contain nearly half this magnitude of power! Do you have any ideas of how revolutionary this is?!" The master-Enchanter says as he looks at Savos. "Tell me Sir Arc, is your son alright? And does your "Aura" truly replenish itself after some time, like our own Magicka does?" Neloth asks the father who is busy analysing the Soul and Aura of his son.
"Yes, he is fine… And also yes, his Aura is already recharging, he barely tapped into his reserves. Seigneur, Jaune, don't do that to your old man, will you." Nicolas says with a sigh. "I am going to have to train you much sooner than anticipated kiddo." Tells Nicolas to Jaune who is gently rocking back and forth and still humming on his laps. "...You said that these Soul Gems don't trap sapient Souls… But do I have to assume that some do?" Asks a very serious Arc.
The faces of the four men of Nirn, especially the two Dunmer, are filled with emotions ranging from righteous anger to downright pure and utter hatred.
"...Evil." Says the little boy who went motionless as a statue and gazed, with glowing pupils, straight into the Arch-mage's very eyes.
"Yes, young one. With a significant portion of necromancy, mind and will-altering spells, this is one of the most evil and cruel fates anyone could ever suffer. The use of the Black Soul Gem is considered an abomination by most people, only heartless, power-hungry necromancers and mages make use of them." Savos says before sighing. He looks at the boy whose eyes are downcast and lost on his father's desk, he then picks up a decorated, copper-colored piece of metal and shows it to the child to try to lift his mood.
"Here, this is Dwarven Metal, a heavy, exotic metal that was used primarily and extensively, from architecture to cutlery, most notably for Animunculi, by the Dwemer. It is usually copper in colour, although it can also be yellow, grey, or green. To the other races of Tamriel, it is primarily of interest for use in smithing weapons and armor." Savos began his explanation and held out the ingot in the direction of the young boy, which with Savos' own use of telekinesis gently floated out of his hand and into the child's outstretched hands.
"Weapons made out of it are prized for their ability to resist corrosion and retain their edge, while Dwarven armor has distinctive impact-absorbing qualities. For this reason, Dwemer artifacts are highly prized by adventurers and collectors. The metal itself is rare and precious. Scraps which are prized both by lots of collectors of antiquities and students of metals and enchantments." Continues to tell Savos, as Jaune is Humming again and playing with the small but heavy piece of metal. "True Dwarven metal was made using an unknown process, now lost to time, that many metallurgists have tried to replicate unsuccessfully."
"The only way to obtain the metal is to melt down existing Dwemer items made from the substance." Savos then stops and takes a deep breath, however, before he could elaborate further the child's humming begins to gain a more profound intensity, so much so that odd echoes reverb in the room and vibrations are felt deep into their bones.
But that is not the most surprising. What is really strange, is that the piece of metal he holds starts to resonate to the child's tune.
"... It's singing." tells the boy as he stops his thrum, before handing the scrap metal to his father who doesn't look surprised by his son's anomalous behavior.
"You're right. It is vibrating, and not randomly." Says the patriarch before pouring a little amount of Aura into the piece of metal. "And its structure accepts Aura much more easily than most materials I know of." He then flings the piece to the Dwarf who effortlessly catches it.
"Aye. Some kind of Tonal phenomenon, which seemeth to has't a few effects on the quantum state of the metal." Eitri says, nodding before tossing the scrap to Vulcan who takes some kind of steampunk jeweller's eyeglasses to look at it more closely.
"Hmm, yes… It is where its properties to be impact-absorbing and to barely corrode seem to come. It even looks like some kind of Proto-Vibranium. Hmm. With the help of young Jaune, I am sure we could reverse engineer the method of creation." Vulcan says as he winks to the boy.
"He is only three years old-" "And I was in the forge only a few weeks after my birth, Arc." Says Vulcan as he taps his cane to the ground, "Thankfully, Dionysus saved my sorry ass." he ponders on the distant past.
"Your son isn't just smart and gifted. I can see his eyes moving so fast that they sometimes look like they vibrate, he probably can see and analyse deeper into the Electromagnetic spectrum than even some of my best toys. Hades! I am pretty sure he can see in a multitude of other Spectra as well. And that's only the tip of the iceberg. You know it, I know it and I am sure our friends know it too." The god of the forge seriously tells Nicolas as he takes off his spectacles.
"Aye the lad is going to needeth master-tutors, belike of our caliber, I shall sayeth." Tells Eitri as he smiles at Nicolas, and all men, with the exception of Isran, nod their heads.
"The boy has great potential." Savros confirms.
"Do any of you people have work to do? Or I don't know... a place to rule?" Asks Nicolas.
"I am a god of Olympus. I can take vacations the fuck I want. ...Sorry kiddo." Vulcan says to Jaune, after Nicholas' eyes begin to glitter dangerously.
"Mommy Circe said that "Swearing is an art form. You can express yourself much more directly, much more exactly, much more succinctly, with properly used curse words."" Recites the young boy.
"I am going to have... words, with Circe." Nicolas whispers. "Well, I have more than enough room for everyone... Shall I assume that you all have unfinished matters to tend to before we can begin a more in-depth analysis of what you brought and my son's education?" Dryly asks Nicholas.
"I must gather other Vampire hunters and followers first, that task will probably take a few years as I have to be discreet. I have given you the location of Fort Dawnguard, and outside of that I have nothing more to say." Says Isran, before looking at the child to then sigh. "Even with the boy's inability to learn your strange sorcery, I just hope that with the difference between your art and ours, and the few books on Sun Fire and other Restoration's spells I have provided, that he will be able to overcome those limitation or at least find a way to actually harness ours." The stoic man says.
"I will test him, with your permission and those of your wifes of course, to confirm whether or not it is the case. Talents like these should not go to waste. But I should go back to the college first, to warn the Jarl, my friends and the rest of the college's staff. And I will gather much more resources. Will you do the same, Neloth?" Asks the Arch-Mage.
"Yes, yes, of course. Sir Arc, may I bring some of my employees and apprentices?" Question the enchanter.
"Of course, but can I ask how many?"
"Well there is Ulves Romoran my cook, Varona Nelas my steward, Ildari Sarothril and Talvas Fathryon my apprentices, and Elynea Mothren, the best alchemist, apothecary and mycologist that I know of. So five others." Tells Neloth with a nod.
"This can be arranged, as well as several workshops and storerooms to keep materials, plants, books and other equipment." Nicolas states with his pen that is still held firmly over the papers.
"Thank you." Replies the surprised and pleased Telvanni.
"You're welcome. What about yourself, Savos?" Nicolas asks the Arch-mage who, in response, slowly shakes his head.
"No. But as I mentioned earlier, the Jarl will no doubt wish to meet with you. Also, it would make for a great opportunity to experience Skyrim for yourself." Says Savos.
"That is a good idea. Both Circe and Salem will surely want to come. I will have to bring some gold for trading. What about you three?" Nicolas asks Eitri, Vulcan and M'urgar.
"I'm going to go to Olympus to bring some items to improve your own workshop and forges." Vulcan tells him.
"I will follow you to Nirn and back. I left most of my own belongings there, as well as the texts and manuals on Sword-Singing that I will need to bring." Replied M'urgar.
"And I'll taketh thee there, and then I'll have to headeth over to Niðavellir to issue instructions and collecteth a few possessions as well." Tell the Dwarf.
"Good, but for now let's all say hello, from a distance, to the Ladies and other witches in the castle." Says Nicolas, all nervously agree and head to the door with the exception of Vulcan who grabs the shoulder of Nicolas before discreetly saying;
"Nick, you're going to meet goddesses and other powerful women, and therefore, do not lower your gaze, period... It's high time you embrace godhood, son." Vulcan warns The Arc-angel with a whisper.
"I only believe in one God, Vulcan. You know that." Vulcan nods to that before replying,
"I know, son. But you understand that's not what I meant, hmm?" The god of the forge asks Nicolas.
"Yeah, I know… Let's go." The Arc patriarch responds, as Vulcan, himself and Jaune, who is holding his hand, leaves the room.
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Chapter End Notes:
Yes! There will be some Skyrim later on.
The Sword-Singers of the Elder Scrolls universes are a interesting piece of lore that I will gladly use.
Magicka, Smithing Alchemy and Enchantment will also be used.
❗Warning❗: Not everything that is called magic is True Magic. This will be discussed in greater detail later on.