"Legend of Arkthzand

by Neramo, Scholar of Extraordinary Merit

A scholar's writings on the Library of Arkthzand

How does one chase a myth of a myth? Unlike the storied Dwemer cities of northern Tamriel—vast ruins whose locations are well known even if their secret depths remain unplumbed, and whose interactions with the Mer and Men who inhabited the lands above are recorded in many histories—Arkthzand remains a mystery. No one knows where it lies, and no stories about Arkthzand linger on in the writings of other peoples. All we know of Arkthzand comes from cryptic references in Dwemer texts that are themselves almost completely indecipherable. All I can say for certain is that a place called Arkthzand existed, and it was a center of lore and learning.

Alas! When certainty ends, we must turn to speculation.

As near as I can tell, Arkthzand was founded at the height of Dwemer civilization in the legendary cavern underworld known as Blackreach. Early in the First Era, four Dwarven cities formed an alliance or league to mine and study the arcane mineral known as Aetherium. Two of these cities, Arkngthamz and Bthar-Zel, supposedly lie under the western foothills of the Reach. My sources suggest that in an era of discovery and prosperity, these neighbors joined together to build a great library somewhere in the depths. Many Dwemer clans came to Arkthzand to study and share their knowledge. Yet in time, strife and war exploded in this hidden realm, and the peaceful library was abandoned.

Curiously enough, the city of Nchuand-Zel is very prominently not mentioned in stories of the Blackreach alliance or accounts of the so-called Aetherium War, even though it lies close to both Arkngthamz and Bthar-Zel. I can only wonder at the forgotten politics of the Dwemer clans. Was Nchuand-Zel a rival to these other cities? A neutral realm? Or did the internal politics of the Blackreach league make it impossible to include a fifth member?

The answer to that riddle may be critical to solving the mystery of the Library of Arkthzand. If nothing else, no one has yet managed to find either Blackreach or Bthar-Zel and Arkngthamz, at least as far as I am aware. Nchuand-Zel, however, is the city in the Reach we now call Markarth. I have yet to visit the place, but reports indicate that an extensive series of ruins may still exist beneath the city. Perhaps these may provide a path to the Library of Arkthzand, if it in fact truly exists.

Naturally, the prospect of an undiscovered and intact repository of Dwemer lore that has not yet been plundered staggers the imagination. Over the years, many dungeon delvers have sniffed out a hint or two about Arkthzand's existence and ventured into the Reach in search of a pristine Dwemer ruin. No doubt most of these scavengers thought only of treasure and riches beyond counting. Looters and vandals! The greatest treasure of all is knowledge. What secrets might be found there? The workings of aetherium crystals? Tonal architecture? The secrets of the stars? Who can say?

For the sake of posterity, I one day hope to make the trip and search for the Library of Arkthzand before some uneducated mercenary stumbles across the place and clumsily destroys something irreplaceable. When I finally visit Markarth I hope to convince the Despot to see reason. Perhaps he can be persuaded—or bribed—to let me attempt a descent into Nchuand-Zel. I am certain that the answers I seek lie somewhere beneath the infamous Understone Keep."

As they traversed the rugged terrain just north of Bthardamz, they encounter the storied Deep Folk Crossing, where the ancient Dwemer's ingenuity was showcased in a bridge arching gracefully over a cascading waterfall, flanked by stoic watchtowers. The air was filled with the mist of the falls and the echoes of water on stone, a testament to the enduring Dwemer craftsmanship that withstood the passage of time.

"How people could see the way up here for all these centuries and never go in to investigate simply baffles me," Lucien sighed. "can you imagine how awful it would have been if the Stormcloaks captured the Reach and found these Dwemer Ruins and actually cared to study them? The war would have been over in days."

"Well, isn't it just grand that we no longer have to think about that?" Serana scoffed. "Now, all we can do is give them both the means to fight back against the Daedra." she paused and leaned against the doorframe. "You and I both know that Dagon isn't one to give up easily. He's a Daedric Prince. When they have their mind set on something, they will go out of their way to get it."

Lucien nodded. "I used to wonder what sort of nightmare my ancestors in the Imperial City lived through during the Oblivion Crisis. Perhaps if I'd never asked, I wouldn't be dealing with it today. Hmph. Shame on me, I suppose."

Serana shook her head. "Never shame yourself for wanting to learn something. That's what makes you a scholar and not some pompous know-it-all."

They walked for a few moments before Lucien registered what she said, "Oh, gee. I think that was a compliment...?"

Ascending the hill from the architectural marvel, they found themselves before a large podium, a silent sentinel amidst the whispering grass. Here lay a Dwemer Convector, its purpose lost to history, now standing empty but for the stories it could tell. Opposite this relic, a glint of something extraordinary catches their eye - an Aetherium Shard, a fragment of the Dwemer's profound experiments with the mythical Aetherium.

"It can't be that easy," Lucien muttered as he quickly surveyed the area for a deadly trap waiting to be sprung. "it can't be that easy."

The shard simply lay there, a remnant of a civilization that mastered the earth's hidden veins, crafting wonders that challenged the maddest of imaginations. It was a piece of the puzzle that is Bthar-Zel, a city that once thrived under the moniker of 'allied city', a hub of innovation and alliance among the Dwemer. The very ground they walked on was hallowed by the echoes of the past, each stone a chronicle of the Deep Folk's aspirations and their abrupt departure from the annals of history.

Lucien and Serana's path was one of discovery, of piecing together the fragments of a story long forgotten, and an effort to bring hope to their presetn. Each step towards Bthar-Zel was a step backwards through time, a journey through the remnants of a society that reached for the stars and left behind a legacy etched in steam, Aetherium, and stone. To Lucien himself, their quest was more than a search for treasure; it was a search for understanding, a quest to connect with the echoes of the Dwemer, to hear the whispers of the ancients in the wind, and to touch the fabric of history that the Deep Folk Crossing so elegantly symbolized.

Lucien lifted the Aetherium Shard and examined it together with Serana. "I want to make sure this is the real thing, not a fake. Lucien Flavius would never be caught dead with counterfeit Dwemer technology in his pockets!"

Serana nodded, "It's real, all right. I can feel its power from here. You don't have to worry about your pristine reputation being sullied. At least, not today." she smirked at him, her glowing red eyes twinkling with mischief as she teased her friend.

"Oh. Jolly good, then!" Lucien sung happily as he pocketed the glowing cyan-hued stone.

"Wow, you found another one so quickly?" came the voice of the spirit of Katria, who manifested behind Lucien and Serana.

"YEEK!" Lucien cried out in shock.

Serana answered on his behalf, "Yeah; it was just kind of... sitting here? I don't know how else to put it."

"Really? Well, now, that makes things easier." Katria smirked with amusement.

Lucien shrugged. "Either the gods left it here for us to find, or some scoundrels dug it up and thought it wasn't worth their time."

Serana crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby stone pillar. "How did you find us, Katria? I thought ghosts were doomed to haunt the sites of their deaths?"

Katria nodded, "Usually, yes; but in taking Zephyr with you, I am bound to you. At least for now."

"What?" Lucien gawked.

"Just for the time being." Katria reassured him. "Remember; Zephyr was once my favourite bow. Its connection to me is more than physical. It's spiritual."

"Oh, that must be why Candle carries her mace, even in Coldharbour," Lucien pondered, recalling the Long Distance Call he made from the Bee & Barb, and previous ones, where he had seen Cura in her usual attire, armed with her customary weapons. He knew he could visit her body resting on a bed at Stendarr's Beacon at this moment if he wished, adorned in those very items even now.

"If my presence bothers you, I could retreat to the ether for a while." Katria offered.

"No; your presence is welcome here, Katria." Lucien reassured her. "Just try not to constantly pop up like that, please?"

Katria smirked at his sheepishness. "Sure. I'll pop up some distance away next time."

He felt as though he'd just had an epiphany regarding the machinations of their world and beyond, but shook it off, as they had business to attend to. Drawing out his map, Lucien laid it flat upon the stony surface of the pedestal which stood next to the Convector. He laid Katria's journal and moved his finger along an invisible path, trailing from the Aetherium site they were at all the way to one marked in Eastmarch, roughly southwest of Windhelm. "Let's see... the next place marked here, if I cross-reference with my map is..."

"Raldbthar." Katria answered.

"Raldbthar." Lucien said around the same time. Then something about that name struck him as oddly familiar.

"Raldbthar."

Lucien knit his brows together in recognition, and the name seemed to roll off his tongue.

"Raldbthar."

"Rald...b...thar..." Lucien slowly turned his head to look at Serana, who was looking at him cock-eyed.

"What?" Serana inquired.

"Those bloody morons!" Lucien growled furiously, clenching both sides of the map tightly in his hands. "They were in Raldbthar! Be-before they came to bother me! How did they not see it?!"

"They probably weren't searching for Aetherium." Katria consoled him.

"But... but... they could have saved us so much trouble," Lucien whined. "I could have had a Shard to begin with."

"Now, now; calm down. Maybe they did?" Serana suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I mean, for all you know they could have had it among the Dwemer parts they uncovered. You weren't looking for it either, so it's possible you might have missed it."

"By Zenithar, I hope you're right." Lucien clasped his hands together. "But if you're wrong, I will never let you hear the end of it."

"Please, all I have to do is show you my fangs and you'll stop." Serana scoffed with amusement.

"Er, probably." Lucien rethought the idea. He cleared his throat. "Well; we're going to Fast Travel to Riften and head to the docks, then. I hope you have a strong stomach, Katria."

Katria raised an eyebrow. "I'm a ghost, remember?"

"Oh, right." Lucien slapped himself in the forehead and then proceeded to cast Fast Travel upon the small group. They arrived in front of the Warehouse at the Docks: a small shack sat atop a winding pier overlooking Lake Honrich.

Maul stood guard, and his eyes widened with shock. "You! What are you doing here?"

Lucien cleared his throat. "I must look through the Dwarven Metal scraps. Maven Black-Briar commissioned me to help reconstruct them."

Maul nodded, having heard the orders concerning Lucien. "Right. Fine, you can go in. Don't set the place on fire or I'll tear you in half."

"Duly noted." Lucien responded as Maul unlocked the door for him and allowed him inside. If the Thieves Guild truly tore Raldbthar apart, then it would surely be there.

As Lucien entered, he marveled at the shocking development that he, Lucien Flavius, a member of one of the most upstanding Imperial Noble Families, would find his fate intertwined with the Thieves Guild of Riften for anything.

Serana was made to stay outside by Maul, and Katria vanished. Lucien was on his own in the dark warehouse. He reached into his bag and withdrew a torch, and lit it with a fire spell to shed light on the darkness.

Lucien Flavius' eyes shot open wide when he saw the great piles of history contained in the warehouse. Surrounded by the cold, hard legacy of Dwemer ingenuity, he delved into the mountains of metallic artifacts that the Thieves Guild had amassed. The air was thick with the scent of oil and ancient rust, a testament to the long-forgotten era these metals had witnessed. His hands, though careful, were not immune to the treacherous edges that adorned the mechanical relics. Each piece he sifted through was a puzzle in itself, an intricate assembly of gears and plates, none revealing the prize he sought: the Aetherium Shard.

The warehouse was a labyrinth of metal, with pathways carved through the towering piles of dismantled Dwemer constructs. Lucien's eyes scanned every inch, searching for the telltale glimmer of Aetherium. His fingers traced the cool, jagged surfaces, pushing aside cogs and tubes, feeling the weight of history in his grasp. The Shard was imbued with a light that rivaled the stars, yet here it lay, obscured by the remnants of a civilization that had mastered the earth but not time.

As he ventured deeper, the light from his torch cast long, dancing shadows that played tricks on his eyes. The silence was occasionally broken by the clatter of a dislodged piece falling to the stone floor, a stark reminder of the precariousness of his search. It was in a deep, almost unreachable corner that he finally spotted it - the faintest hint of a blue hue, ensconced within a tangle of brass and iron.

"That can't be..." Lucien had to narrow his eyes at first, uncertain as to whether it were a trick of the shadows or not. However, the orange glow of his torch made its presence all the more apparent by its contrast in colour.

The excitement surged within him, but it was quickly tempered by the realization of the Shard's entrapment. It was wedged between two massive gears, their edges sharp as the broken dreams of its creators. With a mixture of reverence and urgency, Lucien reached for the Shard, his hand slipping between the cold metal teeth. A sudden pain shot up his arm as a burr sliced his skin, a small price to pay for the treasure he now held.

Blood mingled with the dust of ages as he carefully extracted the Shard, its surface catching the light of his torch and scattering it in a kaleidoscope of azure and silver. The cut was superficial, but the victory was profound. Lucien Flavius had unearthed a piece of history, a fragment of magic that had survived the fall of empires and the ravages of time; and the careless hands of the brutes that tore its resting place apart. The Aetherium Shard, once lost to the annals of the Dwemer, was now in the hands of a man driven by curiosity and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. And as he stood there, the weight of the Shard in his palm, he knew that this was but the beginning of a greater journey.

Lucien's gaze scanned every corner; every flat edge of the crystalline material. His mind began to race with possibilities. The cut on his hand was a mere distraction compared to the whirlwind of thoughts about the potential applications of this ancient technology. "With this Shard, the boundaries between magic and machinery could be blurred," he mused. The Dwemer were known for their unparalleled craftsmanship and ingenuity, and now he had another piece of the key to unlock one of their secrets. He envisioned creating devices that could harness the magical properties of the Aetherium, perhaps even amplifying them.

He pondered the creation of an automaton, not just any rudimentary construct, but one imbued with the essence of the Aetherium, capable of actions beyond mundane tasks- perhaps it could think, learn, or even feel. "Could I bridge the gap that the Dwemer could not?" he wondered, the idea both thrilling and daunting. The Shard in his hand was not just a piece of metal; it was a conduit to the past and a gateway to the future.

He recalled how Sorine Jurard, Calcelmo, and Gunmar's efforts bore fruit in a fully-functional prosthetic arm for Cura, formed entirely by Dwemer technology. If such a thing were possible, what more could they accomplish with this arcane knowledge?

Lucien's thoughts drifted to the potential of enhancing his own abilities. The Aetherium could be fashioned into a set of armor or a weapon, something that would make him not just a wizard,, but a formidable force in his own right. "Imagine the protection it could offer, the power it could bestow," he thought, the Shard's light reflecting in his eyes, igniting a spark of ambition.

But then, a more altruistic vision surfaced, spurred forth from that very memory of Cura's prosthetic. What if this technology could be used for the greater good? Healing devices, structures that could withstand any assault, or even creating sustainable energy sources - the possibilities were endless. "This could change the world," he realized, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. "the Aetherium Forge... when we find it... who knows what feats we will be capable of?"

The Aetherium Shard represented a legacy of a lost civilization, but to Lucien, it was a challenge, an invitation to surpass the limits of current understanding. "This is not just about what I can build, but what should be built," he contemplated. The potential to improve lives, to prevent the kind of suffering that wars and conflicts brought, was within his grasp.

As he cast a Healing Spell around his bleeding hand, Lucien knew that the path ahead would be fraught with trials. The knowledge of the Dwemer was not easily deciphered, and there would be those who would seek the Aetherium Forge for less noble purposes. Yet, the determination in his heart was as solid as the metal that surrounded him. "This journey to the Dwemer will require all that I am, and more," he acknowledged, "but the future is worth the price."

With the Aetherium Shard secured in his satchel, Lucien Flavius stepped out of the shadows of the warehouse, his mind ablaze with the blue fire of inspiration. His dreams were firmly fixed on the horizon, on the dawn of a new era that he would help forge. The journey of the Shard was over, but for Lucien, the adventure was just beginning.

"So? Did you find it?" Serana inquired.

Lucien nodded. "I did! It was buried under a sea of metal. Figures these brutes would have no discernment for historical things beyond the coins they fetch." he quickly turned to Maul. "Er, no offense, of course."

"None taken. Now, piss off." Maul sneered and gestured to the docks with a head thrust.

Lucien and Serana found a discreet bench behind the Riften Fishery and looked over the map. "Only one place left for us to go, then." Serana pointed to another spot on the map southeast of Windhelm. "The Dwarven Storeroom, in Mzulft."

Immediately, the two of them stared at one another. Lucien gulped. "Mzulft? That name sounds awfully familiar." he opened his personal journal and began to turn through the pages. He found Fort Dawnguard, the Forgotten Vale, Auri-El's Chantry, some sketches of Cura, the College of Winterhold, more sketches of Cura, Saarthal, the Eye of Magnus...

"You really have a thing for Cura, don't you?" Serana giggled lightly as she peered through the Journal, causing Lucien to blush.

"She's the Dragonborn! You don't travel with a figure out of History and never show the world what they looked like!" Lucien barked instinctively.

"Uh-huh." Serana muttered, unconvinced.

Lucien continued to sift through his notes, and then it hit him like a slap to the face when he found his rough drawing of a Dwemer Oculory. "Mzulft. The place where Cura found information about the Staff. Remember? The... the Synod were there doing research, too. The Oculory. I remember it now. It's all coming back to me."

Serana smiled and nodded, feeling a sense of Nostalgia wash over her. "It was an interesting time, to be honest. Let's look at this as a chance to relive that."

Lucien nodded in agreement. "I relish the past. Things seemed to much... simpler in those days, when it was us and the other students of the College."

Serana nodded. "It was a blast. But things change. Even as an eternal Vampire, I found room to change. I suppose it's inevitable where our world is concerned."

Lucien pondered, "Well; if Time is linear, perhaps there is a way to travel back through it. If Alduin could be propelled into the future..."

Serana shook her head. "How about let's focus on the here and now? Hmm? Better than accidentally causing a singularity and breaking the Dragon."

Lucien chuckled sheepishly. "Fair enough, Serana. The Alessian Order messed with time, and look at what they caused."

"Maybe the Dwemer did something similar and erased themselves from existence. Who knows?" Serana proposed before standing up and dusting off her lap. "Anyways - it's our last stop before we try to find the Forge. Are you ready?"

Lucien nodded and closed his journal. "Ready as I'll ever be." He pocketed the book and walked with Serana.