"The Aetherium Wars

by Taron Dreth

A treatise on the collapse of Dwemer city-states in Skyrim

Note: Taron Dreth plagiarized this work using his colleague's notes.

Dedicated to Katria,

my Friend and Colleague

The end, when it came, was swift. In the span of three short years, the great dwarven cities of Skyrim, from Markarth to the Velothi Mountains, fell before the armies of the High King. Cities that had held fast against the Nords for over a hundred years crumbled abruptly and without warning.

For centuries, scholars have marveled at the sudden collapse of the Dwemer city-states. Even the Nords seem to have been taken by surprise, though their chroniclers were quick to ascribe their success to King Gellir's inspired tactics and the blessings of Shor.

My research suggests a much different cause, however. In the decades preceding their fall, the dwarven cities of Skyrim had been decimated by internal disputes and infighting over a most surprising cause: Aetherium.

Modern scholars know Aetherium as a rare, luminescent blue crystal found in some Dwemer ruins. Most consider it little more than a curiosity, as it has proven all but impossible to work with: while it has a strong magical aura, it is alchemically inert, and no known process can enchant, smelt, mold, bind, or break it.

To the dwarves, of course, such problems were merely a challenge. In the years following King Harald's reign, the Dwemer discovered a considerable source of Aetherium in their deepest delvings. An alliance of four cities, led by Arkngthamz, the great research center in the southern Reach, was formed to oversee its extraction, processing, and study, and a new 'Aetherium Forge' constructed to smelt it under precisely controlled conditions.

If the inscriptions I discovered are to be believed, the results were nothing short of spectacular: the items produced by the Forge were artifacts of immense power, imbued from the moment of their creation with powerful enchantments. The dwarven alliance shattered almost immediately, as the four city-states and their rivals attempted to claim the Forge.

We can only speculate that none were successful. Decades of conflict merely weakened them all, allowing for King Gellir's subsequent conquests. And though the Dwemer reclaimed most of their lands a century later, there is no evidence that they ever resumed their research on Aetherium. Perhaps the costs had just been too great.

But nothing like the Aetherium Forge described in the inscriptions has ever been found within the borders of Skyrim. It may have been destroyed long ago, by the Nord invaders or the Dwemer themselves. Or perhaps it, like the secrets of Aetherium itself, still remains to be discovered."

Riften's air was stale, and tension hung in the air. Jarl Laila Law-Giver paced the floors of her throne room, deep in thought concerning the current events. She was uncertain, herself to whether or not there was something they had missed. Her heart was racing as thoughts of the Daedra flooded her mind like a shifted river. How long did they have? Were their defenses good enough to withstand such an onslaught?

"My Jarl." Unmid lowered his head respectfully, as he entered the throne room, accompanied by Anuriel and Maven.

Jarl Laila acknowledged their arrival. "Unmid." she nodded to the other two. "What's going on?"

Anuriel clasped her hands together. "We've gotten our barricades in place, my lady. But there is another matter..."

Maven stepped forward. "I have had an epiphany of sorts, Laila. Using my... contacts, I was able to procure some Dwarven Technology excavated from a Dwemer Trash heap known as Raldbthar."

"Excellent work, Maven. Your dedication to our cause is admirable!" Jarl Laila commended her, blissfully unaware of who these 'contacts' of Maven's are. "What can you tell me about this Dwarven Technology?"

Maven coiled her finger around her raven locks like a winding serpent. "Hm. Well, you see, that's where it all falls short. An external force will be needed to understand it. My contacts, as versatile and discreet as they are, lack the proper understanding of such weaponry." She snaked her finger out of her locks and held her hands behind her back.

The Jarl's light expression soured. "Oh..." Her mind wandered for a few moments as she ran through the faces she knew, one after the next. "Ah! Saerlund's new Imperial friend! What was his name, again? The blonde-haired fellow who accompanied the Dragonborn. The fresh-faced lad who seems to know everything."

"I believe you may be speaking of Lucien, my lady," Anuriel suggested with a practical tone, as she matched a face to her mental sketches.

Jarl Laila tried to recall, and it seemed familiar. "Yes, that's the one! Inigo's ally!"

Maven chuckled lightly, "I find it fascinating how you can recall Inigo's name, but not the Imperial lad's."

Jarl Laila raised a brow to her comment. "Well, Inigo is... unique, to say the least. He stands out quite well. And truthfully, I appreciate that. With all the faces I've been seeing as of late, I find it refreshing to have one whose name matches their face." She waved it off, bringing them back to the matter at hand. "At any rate, bring Lucien here. We will discuss these matters with him, and the Legion Captain, Hadvar."

"Er, that won't be necessary, Laila." Maven tried to dissuade her. "I can approach Lucien about it discretely. We don't want this to become known too quickly - not until we know if these mechanisms can even function." she added with a sly glint in her eye. "After all, do we want the Legion to perceive us as a weak link? Or the Thalmor?"

Jarl Laila sat upon her throne and leaned backwards, feeling the weight of her words. "No, no, you're right, Maven." She pondered the situation, and her gaze fell upon Unmid and Anuriel both before she settled. "All right - Have it your way, Maven. I think discretion would be a good idea. I will simply tell the Legion Captain that we're currently sweeping Dwarven Ruins for anything that could be of use, but as of the moment, it is inconclusive." It wouldn't be a lie, after all. Jarl Laila was a simple woman in that regard: she valued truth and transparency in a world where they were scarce commodities.

Lucien sat at a table in the Bee & Barb, enjoying a tankard of ale. He mused about the future of Skyrim, and tapped the solid cup with his fingertips. He chose to be positive in the face of the nerve-wracking circumstances that surrounded them. After all, if Mara's word was worth its weight, then the Divines were watching over everything. It was a comforting thought somewhat. If they were to die, they would have such a special audience. He chuckled to himself lightly at the absurdity of it.

In that instant, Hemming Black-Briar beckoned to him from the doorway. "You're Lucien, right?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Lucien responded in kind.

"Come with me; my mother wishes to see you." Hemming requested, beckoning with his folding and unfolding fingers.

Lucien asked, "What? Maven Black-Briar wants to see me? I can't imagine what for."

"You don't have to imagine. Just come with me." Hemming requested twice: a foreign concept to many with the Black-Briar name.

Acknowledging this, Lucien yielded, pushing his chair back. He rose to his feet, drained his ale, and set the tankard down on the table. He trailed Hemming outdoors, making his way to the Black-Briar Manor, housed within the wooden and stone edifice set beside the Temple of Mara and on the corner of the block, across the stone path from Mistveil Keep.

As he stepped inside, Maven fixed him with a piercing glare, her eyes shining like beacons in the dimly lit living room. "You don't look like much, but perhaps you can be useful. State your price, and we'll begin."

Lucien was taken aback by the suddenness of her request. "Er, what?"

Maven took off like a Cliff Racer. "This is a matter that requires discretion. I take it you can keep your mouth shut? At least for your sake, I hope you can."

Lucien asked, "So I take it this is business of the less-savoury sort? You've got the wrong man. I don't deal in-"

Maven stepped forward, closing the distance between them and intimidating the young wizard. "You will now." she began, "I have... associates beneath the city. They've gone on my orders to Raldbthar-"

"A Dwemer Ruin?" Lucien perked up, hearing the name.

Maven was surprised for a moment. "Why, yes." She unfolded her arms from her chest. "It appears I have chosen the right man for the job."

Lucien nodded, "I assure you I most certainly am! I aim to study the Dwemer. I have made quite a many observations about them."

Maven knew that time was short, but she was hopeful. "Excellent. What you're doing will aid the Jarl, and our war efforts against the Daedra, if that eases your conscience somewhat." she continued, "Come with me; I will introduce you to my contacts. We'll get this ball rolling soon enough."

Maven spun around Lucien and dashed outside before he had a chance to protest. He hastened after her through the narrow back alleys, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. Who were these contacts that required such secrecy from her? Eventually they came upon the small graveyard.

Lucien inquired, "A cemetery? An interesting place of choice to meet your contacts, I'd think." He looked around, observing that none of the violet-cloaked city guards were around. Most were training in the designated area outside the city, and those who came back in their rotation tended the gates and the marketplace mainly, making this a blindspot for potential crime.

Maven laughed with mild amusement. "Oh, we won't be meeting them out here in the open, dear boy." She entered the small crypt embedded in the wall and moved toward a sarcophagus nestled within. There was a sigil etched on the side of the coffin: a diamond with a circle at its heart. Slipping her finger beneath the lid, she flicked a switch. The sarcophagus shifted and withdrew into the wall, unveiling a secret staircase below. Maven started her descent, with Lucien following closely. Reaching the bottom, she pulled a chain on the wall, and the sarcophagus closed, obscuring the sunlight from above.

Maven descended a ladder and Lucien followed her down into the darkness. The smell of stale water permeated the air, growing stronger with their descent into the world of stone below the city.

The space he found himself in was bathed in a soft, ethereal light that filtered through an opening in the moss-covered arched ceiling, casting a weak, mystical glow over their surroundings. The architecture is robust, with ancient stone walls and floors that have clearly withstood the test of time.

A central stone bridge spanned across what appeared to be a shallow circular waterway, leading to an archway on the opposite side. To the left, a serene waterfall cascaded from an opening in the wall into a basin below, adding a tranquil element to the otherwise somber living space. Banners hang from the walls on either side of the waterfall, though their emblems were indistinct.

The dank air was filled with mist or dust particles that catch the light rays, enhancing the mysterious and ancient ambiance of this place.

"This is the true face of Riften." Maven said plainly as she led Lucien towards the center of the cistern. As Lucien followed her, he received strange glares from people in the surrounding area, clad in hard-boiled leather armour of some sort of padded fashion. Some donned hoods while others exposed their faces. Some of the armour sets were brown while others were dark gray.

At a desk some distance away, there were three figures clad in leathery black hooded armour, nearly bearing the countenance of phantoms. They bore symbols on their dark gray cuirass depicting a raven with open wings. The armour was intricately designed with layered plates and textures, giving it an eerie appearance.

The three phantasms seemed to be observing Dwarven Spiders and dismantled Dwarven Spheres. Nearby, half of a smashed Ballista lay against the stone wall. These were things that Lucien recognized.

Maven left no pretenses. She addressed the three dark figures, narrowing on the central one. "Brynjolf - I'll not waste any time. This is Lucien; he was friend to the Dragonborn, and has the expertise you're looking for. Perhaps now your efforts can add value to this conflict."

The figure standing between the other two pulled back his black hood, revealing himself to be a Nordic man with shoulder-length auburn hair and a suave moustache and light hair on his jawline. 'Aye, we could use a bit of help here from an expert." he gestured towards the heaps of Dwarven metal scattered in a large pile that stretched the length of the western walkway, some laying in the cistern water as well. "We found all this rubbish in Raldbthar, but we know that there's more to it than that. With the Dwemer, there always is."

Maven gave a firm nod. "Now that you're aware of the situation, state your price." she declared, arms crossed and foot tapping with impatience.

Lucien shrugged. "800 septims and I'll help assemble them all. We'll need to bring them elsewhere, though: the ballistae and Centurions would never fit through the nook we crawled down." He chuckled, recalling the awkward shapes of the mechanisms, as well as their movement patterns. It was clear that the Dwemer, with their sloped cities and ramped floors, had not taken ladders and small doorways into consideration when they built their constructs.

The figures flanking Brynjolf unmasked themselves; Delvin Mallory stood to his left and Karliah stood to his right. The Dunmer woman stepped forward. "Hmm. Enthir told me about you," she began. "you were friend to the Dragonborn, weren't you?"

"Wait; you know Enthir?" Lucien inquired, surprised by the revelation. He did not know the man quite well himself, but he knew that Enthir was the shady sort and had obscure connections. The Thieves Guild did not come as quite as much a surprise as he would have thought it would.

"This is all very heartfelt," Maven said dryly. "now, get to work. These contraptions will not build themselves. Your 800 septims will be covered for, if you're anything worth your salt, that is. Blunder this or breathe a word of the Guild to any of the authorities above and you will be sorry. I can promise you that." With that, she headed back towards the ladder, walking past a few Thieves who filed out of her way submissively as she approached.

Lucien raised a brow, unfazed by her threat. "I'm involved with the Guild now, I suppose. If anything, telling the Guards would merely incriminate myself in any case." In the past he would have possibly been intimidated, but after having gone through what he has over the past couple of years, Maven Black-Briar merely seemed like a petulant child with too much money.

In his own case, however, he was thrilled to bits to be able to work with Dwemer technology unabated, and to be paid to do it on top of it all. He was like a child in a Sweetroll Bakery.

"So, lad, what can ya tell us about these Dwarven creations?" Delvin Mallory inquired earnestly. It was clear that he'd seen the likes of these things before, but never from an academic perspective. Ever the learner, he desired to know. "It's clear you're the expert on the subject here; at least according to Maven."

Karliah added, "And if Enthir is to be believed, he spent a lot of time speaking with Arniel Gane concerning them. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to reach him. The times are weird and Dagon is all over the landscape."

Lucien asked, "Say, why do you Thieves seem to want to help us out against the Daedra? It's quite surprisingly... honourable of you to do this." he gestured towards the Dwemer bits and pieces in the room with them.

"Isn't it obvious? If Dagon wins, there'll be nothing left to steal." Brynjolf said with a playful chuckle.

Delvin added, "If the world goes tits-up, there's plenty o' coin to be made, sure. But if the world gets demolished, then, well... that's a whole different story."

Lucien Flavius, with his eyes gleaming with the fervor of scholarly passion, rubbed his hands together with enthusiasm as he turned to his task. He addressed the trio of Brynjolf, Delvin Mallory, and Karliah, who stood before him. He was ready to break into a presentation. "Behold, the ingenuity of the Dwemer," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the vaulted chamber. "These pieces you've recovered are not mere trinkets but keys to understanding a civilization that mastered the earth and stone." He picked up a twisted golden-hued, engraved metal shard, running his fingers along the intricate carvings. "The Dwemer, or 'Deep Elves,' delved into the secrets of the world in a way no other race has. Their technology," he said, holding up the shard, "was powered by steam and soul and harnessed the very essence of Aetherius."

He moved to a larger piece, a red sphere with ringed gears that still seemed to yearn for movement. "This, my friends, is a core element of a centurion dynamo. The Dwemer built automatons, not merely as labourers but as protectors of their great underground cities." Lucien's gaze met each of his listeners in turn. "And the tonal architecture," he continued, "is perhaps their most sublime achievement. With it, they manipulated the laws of nature, bending reality to their will."

The air was thick with the weight of history as Lucien spoke of the disappearance of the Dwemer, a mystery that tugged at the edges of his knowledge. "One day, they vanished, leaving behind their silent cities and cryptic machines. Some say it was their hubris, others, a catastrophic divine experiment gone awry." He sighed, a mix of admiration and melancholy in his voice. "But what they left us is a testament to their prowess. And now, with these pieces you've brought from Raldbthar, we edge ever-so-closer to unraveling the Dwemer enigma."

With a final, respectful nod to the relics, Lucien concluded his lecture, leaving his audience with a sense of wonder and a burning curiosity about the deep elves known as the Dwemer. The legacy of their technology and history was not just a tale of the past, but a continuous puzzle inviting all brave enough to seek its truths. Fortunately, Lucien was just such a person. Though, he wondered what a collaborative effort between himself, Sorine Jurard and Calcelmo would be like on this matter. However, discretion was his biggest impediment here. Maven made it clear that no mention of the Thieves Guild's involvement was to be made.

Lucien tapped his chin. "Have any of you heard of the Aetherium Forge?"

Delvin crossed his arms. "Aetherium-what, now?"

Karliah nodded. "I have heard of it before, in my travels. It was merely a whisper on the wind, but perhaps it could be worth looking into."

Lucien nodded; "Indeed - we need all the power we can get. I think we ought to find the Forge; it could provide the ideal workstation to assemble all these bits and pieces. This underground waterway truly isn't the ideal location, at any rate."

Brynjolf nodded, "Sure, Lad. And just where do you think you'll find it?"

Lucien tapped his chin, and dove into his bag, drawing forth a book with a silver cover, reading "The Aetherium Wars" right in front of them. He skimmed through the pages and traced his finger along the inscribed letters therein before falling upon "Arkngthamz." He looked to the shady figures before him. "Arkngthamz is in the Reach, I believe. It could be a good first lead."

Delvin Mallory nodded, "Then hop to it. We'll start transportin' this junk to the dock warehouse for the meantime for safekeeping." He nudged his head in the direction of the heap of scraps leaning against the wall.

Lucien nodded. He did not trust the Thieves Guild enough to have a member accompany him to the ruins, so he would seek out his friend, Inigo. Maven be damned. He left the cistern behind him for the meantime, activating the pull chain and ascending the small flight of stairs into the graveyard. The sarcophagus slid back into place behind him with a rolling noise.

He was navigating the back alleys when he encountered a pair of Thalmor operatives. He gave them a cursory glance as he passed, but one of them called out, "You there! Imperial. Turn around for a moment."

The chain of the Amulet of Talos, given to him by Nura Snow-Shod, peeked out from under his cuirass, catching the eye of one of the High Elves. Striving to keep his cool in front of these hostile figures, he responded, "Yes? How may I assist you gentlemen?" His gaze swept the area, hoping for Inigo to appear at any moment.

"What is that around your neck?" the first one inquired, gesturing towards Lucien's neck.

"Hm?" Lucien feigned ignorance. "Perhaps some Snowberry jam from the Crostata I ate earlier?" He touched his neck and examined his finger.

"Don't play dumb with us!" the first elf spat. "I recognize an Amulet of Talos when I see one. Just because we fight on the same side today does not mean you can go around flaunting such an abomination."

Lucien chuckled nervously, but decided to quip regardless. "Flaunting it? I'd say I'm doing quite the opposite, really."

The Thalmor agents were unimpressed by his attempt at humour. The first extended his hand, his palm outstretched and ready to receive the offensive icon. "Hand it over, now. It must be destroyed. Then, perhaps we will overlook this... transgression... in the name of the alliance."

Lucien stepped back and tightened his grip on the string. "No, I won't," he declared. It wasn't his to surrender. Indeed, the potential for this very scenario was why he had kept it. "There are more pressing issues to address. Perhaps we should tackle those first?"

The first Thalmor turned to his companion and shook his head, drawing his own conclusion. "You know what I think? I think he's holding onto this for somebody else."

The second one agreed. "Perhaps he needs to be sharply questioned. Then we'll know just who." The pair of them took a step forward, and Lucien quickly moved his hand towards the pommel of his sword.

The Thalmor agents began to conjure magic between their fingertips, readying to summon Bound Swords, when they were caught by surprise. A low growl came from behind them, and they turned to see a black wolf with flaming eyes some distance away in the alley. The creature's midnight countenance was aggressive and dangerous, and its fur bristled as its fangs were bared.

The two Thalmor agents, eagles cloaked in the arrogance of their power, attempted to stand their ground as fear plucked their feathers away.

The wolf moved with a spectral grace, its form a blur of midnight fur and bared fangs. The first agent lunged, only to meet the earth as the wolf deftly sidestepped, its jaws clamping down on the agent's arm with a force that speaks of the wild's untamed strength. The second agent, fear creeping into his heart, swung his Bound Sword wildly, his ethereal blade slicing only air as the wolf danced between reality and myth. The agents, once hunters, now find themselves prey, their spells rendered useless against a creature that seemed wrought from the very essence of horror itself.

The battle was swift, brutal, and without err. The wolf tore through their defenses and caused them to flee with bleeding bite wounds, down the alley.

Lucien's heart was racing and he drew his sword, taking a tentative step backwards as the black wolf slowly turned its gaze towards him. His hand was unsteady, shaking. The black wolf rolled its eyes and, in a shroud of darkness, morphed into Serana.

"You know, you really need to calm down." she raised an eyebrow.

"Serana?!" Lucien called out her name in shock.

The Vampiress grinned, revealing her bloodied fangs. "That's my name. Don't wear it out." she said playfully. After a few moments passed and the air was calm, she inquired. "So, are you all right?"

Lucien nodded. "I... I think so. Say, how did you do that? I've never seen such a thing before."

"Well, I don't normally shift forms, as you know." Serana began, justifying her actions. "But I figured it was necessary this time. Can't have the Thalmor recognizing me, after all. It could be a problem in the future if they ever come out and say 'Oh, that's the Vampire who mauled us in the back alley in Riften.'"

Lucien chuckled, "Fair enough. And good on not killing them. That would have opened up a whole other can of worms entirely."

Serana nodded. "So, what are you doing out here, anyways?"

Lucien began to explain his involvement with the Thieves' Guild at Maven Black-Briar's request, due to the discovery of Dwemer metals and scraps in Raldbthar. Serana was surprised to hear about Lucien being involved with those sorts, being the goody-two-shoes that he normally was. He explained also about the discretion he needed to maintain due to the shady nature of the Guild, and the need to find the elusive Aetherium Forge.

"I need a partner to accompany me to Arkngthamz. Would you...?"

Serana nodded. "Say no more. I'll go with you. Wouldn't want you falling in a ditch somewhere with nobody around." she said with a wink.

"Really? Thanks, Serana. It would be much appreciated." Lucien clapped his hands together.

Serana nodded and looked around them. "And, I think it would be a good idea if we leave. Now. Before those two buffoons decide to call for help. Best to be out of sight for that."

The pair prepared to Fast Travel to Markarth. Their previous visits made the process effortless for them. They reappeared with a blink at the stables in front of the stone city. Lucien drew out his map and his finger traced its many slopes and hills. "Arkngthamz is further southeast of Dushnikh Yal." His finger fell upon the high hills north of the Jerall mountain range.

Serana watched as he drew the path and nodded. "Ah, the call to adventure. I won't lie, I kind of missed this."

Lucien smiled and rolled up his map. "So have I."

The pair of friends relished in the nostalgia for a few moments as they took in the verdant scenery surrounding them before going on their way.