Kael dropped his bag onto the bed in the small room he’d been given at Understone Keep. It was modest—a cot, a sturdy wooden table, and a single candle flickering faintly in the corner. Still, after days of harsh travel and tension, it felt like luxury. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Kael reached for his bag, pulling it closer to unpack his few belongings.
As he dug through his things, his fingers brushed against a piece of paper that hadn’t been there before. Frowning, he pulled it out. The note was folded neatly, the parchment smooth and almost too clean, as if it hadn’t been crammed into his bag at all but rather had simply appeared there.
Unfolding it, Kael’s frown deepened as he read the handwritten message scrawled across it in a looping, almost playful script.
“Well, well, look at you. All important now, working for Jarls and saving villages. This world seems to suite you huh? Guess you’re making quite a name for yourself, Kael. Not bad for someone who started as little more than an angry pewterarm being chased by wolves.
Oh, I saw that you found the aluminum from the chest. Yes, I orchestrated that—it’s not like I’d leave you with nothing to work with. Good of you to dig it up, though a bit unfortunate that you ended up with, in my opinion, one of the useless metals. Useless on its own, at least. But hey, I’m not heartless. As compensation, I’ll toss in a little extra to sweeten the deal.
Inside your bag, you’ll find a small bag of Duralumin Beads. This one should help you a lot more than aluminum, but—fair warning—be very careful which metal you burn while using this one.
P.S. You’re welcome.”
Kael stared at the note, his mind racing. The signature was absent, but the tone and knowledge of his abilities left no doubt that it came from the man who had sent him to Skyrim in the first place. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.
Setting the note aside, Kael rummaged through his bag again, his fingers eventually brushing against a small, cold object in cloth. Pulling it free, he unwrapped the bundle to reveal a little bag of beads, about the size of a small grape. It was silvery, with a faint yellow sheen that set it apart from pure aluminum.
“Duralumin?” Kael muttered aloud. He turned the note over, noticing additional text scrawled on the back in the same playful handwriting.
“Fine I wont leave you in the dark again. Let me explain.
Aluminum: When burned Allomantically, aluminum wipes your reserves of every metal you’re currently carrying. Yep, that means all of them. Pretty useless in most cases, but hey, if you’re ever poisoned by a metal you don’t want in your system, it might save your life. Feruchemically, it stores identity. Don’t worry too much about that yet—it’s more abstract than practical for now.
Duralumin: Now this is where the fun begins. Burn duralumin Allomantically alongside another metal, and it supercharges the effect. For a brief moment, you’ll unleash the full, unrestrained power of that metal. Think ‘blow the roof off the building’ kind of power. The downside? It burns out all the current burning metals in the process, so use it wisely.
Feruchemically, duralumin stores connection—your ties to the world, people, or even certain magics. I’d say you’re a long way from mastering that, but, hey, everyone starts somewhere.
P.S. Don’t forget: Duralumin is made by combining 96% aluminum with 4% copper.”
Setting the beads carefully on the table beside his bed, Kael leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The note had rattled him, not just because of the new metal, but because of the implication that the man who had sent him here was still watching. This wasn’t just some cosmic accident—his steps were being guided, manipulated even. It left him with a sour taste in his mouth.
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He glanced at the ingot, remembering the description of aluminum’s Feruchemical property. Identity. The word lingered in his mind, its implications vague but unsettling. What exactly did it mean to “store identity”? Would it change who he was? Make him… less of himself? The thought was uncomfortable.
And duralumin—connection. The ability to amplify his bonds with people or magic, to forge new ties. It sounded powerful, but also deeply personal.
————————————————————
Kael tossed and turned in the small cot at Understone Keep, the darkness of the room doing little to calm his restless mind. The note and the duralumin weighed heavily on him. What was the man playing at, leaving him something so powerful but so dangerous? His body ached from days of travel, but his thoughts churned like a storm. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he sat up, his breath heavy in the still air.
Kael slipped his boots on and grabbed the small pouch holding the duralumin beads. He opened it carefully, its faintly golden sheen glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the tiny window. He swallowed the bead along with a pewter one, feeling the familiar metallic warmth settle into his stomach. Burning them in tandem would be risky, but he had to know the extent of its power.
Quietly, he made his way out of Understone Keep, the night air cold and biting against his skin. The streets of Markarth were silent, the towering stone buildings casting long shadows under the light of the moon. Kael didn’t linger; he moved quickly, slipping through the gates and into the wilderness beyond the city.
The chill of the Druadach Mountains bit into his skin, but Kael tapped some warmth stored in a metalmind to keep the cold at bay. As he jogged further from the city, he felt the pewter in his stomach burn, his body surging with energy. Eventually, he found what he was looking for—a large boulder nestled near the edge of a clearing.
Kael approached it cautiously, his heart pounding in anticipation. He flared the pewter, his body vibrating with barely contained power. The boulder loomed in front of him, an immovable object waiting to test his limits.
“All right,” he whispered, clenching his fists. “Let’s see what you’ve got, duralumin.”
With a deep breath, Kael burned the duralumin.
The effect was instantaneous. His body surged with strength so intense it felt like it would tear him apart. Every fiber of his being screamed with energy as he reared back and punched the boulder with everything he had.
The impact was explosive. The boulder shattered, pieces of it flying into the distance like a cannon shot. The sound of the strike echoed across the mountains, and moments later, a distant BOOM reached his ears as the debris landed. Kael stood frozen, his jaw slack as he processed what he’d done.
The adrenaline rush faded as quickly as it came. Kael staggered backward, clutching his hand. Pain shot through him like fire—his hand was mangled, fingers twisted at odd angles from the force of the punch. His entire body felt drained, his knees buckling as he dropped to the ground.
“Well,” Kael gasped, staring at the dark sky above him. “That answers that.”
Kael sat on the cold ground, cradling his mangled hand and wincing with each throb of pain. The sight of his twisted fingers made his stomach turn, but he didn’t panic. He knew what to do. Reaching into his pouch with his good hand, he pulled out a small gold bead, already prepared for moments like this.
Without hesitation, Kael popped the bead into his mouth and swallowed. The familiar warmth spread through his chest as he burned it, the gold metalmind releasing its stored health into him. The sensation was intense—heat rushing through his veins, tingling in his skin, and a deep, almost electric hum in his bones.
He watched as his mangled hand began to straighten, the broken fingers snapping back into place with a sickening but oddly satisfying crack. The swelling subsided, and the torn skin knitted itself back together seamlessly. Within seconds, his hand looked and felt as though it had never been injured.
Kael flexed his fingers, rolling his wrist to ensure everything worked properly. “Good as new,” he muttered, slipping the pouch of metalmind beads back into his bag. He let out a heavy sigh, his energy still sapped from the earlier duralumin flare.
Pushing himself to his feet, Kael glanced back at the clearing and the shattered remains of the boulder scattered in the distance. He shook his head, a mix of awe and caution in his expression.
“Note to self,” he murmured. “Duralumin’s not for casual use. Lesson learned.”
He adjusted his bag and began the trek back to Markarth, his steps slower and more deliberate as his body recovered from the ordeal. The power of duralumin was undeniable, but it was also dangerous—something to use only when absolutely necessary.