Finally, after hours of walking, he saw it: Riverwood.
Nestled along the banks of a wide, rushing river, the village was small but lively. Smoke curled from the chimneys of wooden cottages, and a large waterwheel turned steadily in the current. Villagers bustled about, hauling firewood, tending to livestock, and chatting by the well in the center of town. It was humble, but after the emptiness of the forest, it felt like paradise.
"Civilization," he breathed, quickening his pace. His stomach growled in agreement—he hadn't eaten since arriving in this strange world.
At the far end of the village, a wooden sign creaked in the breeze, marking the entrance to the Sleeping Giant Inn. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a wave of warmth and the rich smell of roasted meat and spiced mead. The common room was modest but inviting, with a roaring fire in the hearth and a handful of patrons scattered at tables.
The bartender, a stout man with a friendly face, looked up from the counter. "Welcome to the Sleeping Giant. Looking for food, drink, or a bed?"
"Room for the night," he said, digging into the bag. His fingers closed around a small pouch of coins—septims, as he'd read on the card. Counting them out, he had twenty-five in total. He slid ten coins across the counter. "And dinner, if that covers it."
The innkeeper nodded, pocketing the money. "Room's on the side, second door on the left. I'll bring your food over."
"Thanks," he said, taking a seat at an empty table. He set his bag on the floor, resting his arms on the scarred wooden surface. For the first time since arriving, he allowed himself to relax. The warmth of the fire seeped into his bones, and the quiet hum of conversation around him felt comforting.
When the bartender brought his food—a steaming plate of stew and a thick slice of bread—he dug in without hesitation. The stew was hearty, filled with chunks of meat and root vegetables, and the bread was crusty but satisfying. He devoured it in minutes, washing it down with a mug of water.
His hunger sated, he pulled the card from his bag and reread the descriptions of the metals. Each one was fascinating, but he'd barely scratched the surface of what they could do. With the safety of the inn around him, he decided it was time to experiment.
The first metal he tried was copper. Burning it sent a strange warmth through his body, like a protective shield. The card mentioned it would hide his Allomantic abilities from detection, though he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Still, it seemed harmless enough to leave burning for now.
Next, he burned iron. Blue lines sprang into existence, connecting him to every piece of metal in the room. The nails in the walls, the hinges on the doors, the coins in the innkeeper's pocket—all of it seemed to hum with potential energy. He focused on one of the lines leading to a pot hanging over the fire and pulled.
The pot clanged loudly as it flew off the hook and hit the floor, spilling stew everywhere. The sound echoed through the room, drawing the attention of everyone present.
"What in Oblivion—?" the bartender exclaimed, rushing to pick up the pot. Several patrons murmured in confusion, craning their necks to see what had caused the commotion.
He kept his head down, pretending to be deeply interested in his empty plate. No one seemed to suspect him, and the moment passed as the innkeeper grumbled and returned the pot to its place. Inside, he was grinning. Okay, that was awesome.
He tried steel next. The blue lines reappeared, but this time, he focused on pushing. A knife on a nearby table slid across the wood, clattering to the floor. A patron glanced at it, scratching his head in confusion but otherwise ignoring it. He stifled a chuckle. With iron and steel, he could manipulate any metal around him. The potential for chaos—and survival—was enormous.
Zinc and brass were next. Burning zinc let him riot emotions, and he chose a surly-looking man sitting by the fire as his target. The man's expression twisted into anger, and he slammed his mug on the table, shouting at the woman sitting across from him. Burning brass let him soothe, and he quickly calmed the man down before things escalated.
"Interesting," he murmured. "So I can mess with people's feelings. Dangerous, but useful."
His curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled out one of the metal studs from his bag. The card had mentioned Feruchemy allowed him to store attributes—speed, strength, health, or vision. He focused on the idea of storing speed, holding the stud tightly.
At first, nothing happened. Frustrated, he concentrated harder. Suddenly, his body slowed, like he was moving through thick molasses. His arms felt heavy, his legs sluggish, and even his thoughts seemed to drag. Panic flared, and he stopped storing immediately. The sensation vanished, leaving him gasping for air.
"Okay," he muttered, his hands trembling. "Don't do that again."
He tried again, more cautiously this time. This time, he stored a small amount of speed, enough to feel the difference but not overwhelm himself. The stud grew warm in his hand, and he grinned. This could be useful.
Encouraged, he tested other metals. Burning pewter gave him an incredible surge of strength. He gripped the edge of the table, and the wood creaked alarmingly under his fingers. Burning tin sharpened his senses, letting him hear every creak of the floorboards and smell the faint pinewood scent of the fire. The room seemed to come alive, every detail magnified.
But with his senses enhanced, he couldn't help but notice the chaos brewing near the hearth. The man he'd rioted earlier had gotten into a heated argument with another patron, and a fistfight broke out. Chairs toppled, mugs shattered, and the innkeeper shouted over the noise, trying to restore order.
He slid further down in his seat, smirking. His experiments had caused more chaos than he'd intended, but no one seemed to connect him to any of it. Feeling satisfied, he gathered his bag and headed over to his room.
The room was small and simple, with a wooden bed pushed against one wall and a sturdy table near the window. A crackling fire in a stone hearth provided the only light, casting flickering shadows on the walls. It wasn't much, but it was safe and warm, and that was more than he could ask for after the day he'd had.
Dropping his bag onto the bed, he fished out the card one more time, flipping it over to the back. The descriptions of Feruchemy caught his eye again, specifically the mention of storing attributes. He'd barely scratched the surface of what that meant, and now, with some peace and privacy, it was time to figure it out.
He pulled out one of the small metal studs and rolled it between his fingers. It was iron, if he remembered correctly. Holding it tightly, he focused on the idea of storing weight, as the card suggested. At first, nothing happened, but then he felt a strange sensation, like a subtle tug deep within his body.
The effect was immediate and startling. His body felt lighter, his limbs almost weightless. He stood, testing his movements, and found that every step came with an effortless bounce. The floor creaked faintly as he pushed off with his toes, and he grinned.
What happens if I jump? he wondered.
Crouching low, he leaped into the air. The world seemed to slow as he soared higher than he ever thought possible—straight into the wooden ceiling. His head smacked the beams with a loud thunk, and he landed awkwardly on the bed, clutching his head.
"Ow," he muttered, rubbing the sore spot. "Okay, maybe not that light."
Sitting on the bed, he adjusted the amount of weight he was storing, dialing it back to something manageable. He noticed that the stud in his hand felt warm, almost alive, as if it were absorbing a piece of him. When he stopped storing, the warmth faded, and he felt the weight return to his body in a rush. His muscles groaned under the sudden pressure.
"That's... bizarre," he murmured, holding the stud up to the firelight. The possibilities danced in his mind. If he could store weight, could he make himself heavy enough to pin someone down? Could he jump higher in a fight or land softer from a great height? His lips curled into a grin. This is going to be fun.
Next, he picked out a brass stud. The card mentioned warmth, so he focused on the heat of the fire nearby and imagined storing it. A shiver ran down his spine as the warmth drained from his body. He tugged his tunic tighter, the air around him suddenly feeling icy despite the roaring hearth.
His breath misted in front of him, and his fingers grew numb. "Great," he muttered through chattering teeth. "So this one makes me a human popsicle."
He stopped storing warmth, and the heat rushed back like a flood. He sighed in relief, flexing his fingers to shake off the chill. The stud in his hand had grown hot to the touch, as though it had absorbed the fire's heat directly.
What good is this one? he wondered, frowning. It wasn't immediately useful unless he planned to chill himself to death. Then a thought struck him. What if I can burn it later? Could I release all that stored warmth at once?
His imagination painted a vivid picture of flames bursting from his skin or a sudden heat wave scorching his enemies. He grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere."
The next stud was pewter, the one that let him store strength. He hesitated for a moment, then focused on the idea of becoming weaker. The change was slow but noticeable. His muscles felt smaller, his limbs frailer. He stood and found his legs shaky, his movements sluggish. His tunic hung loosely on his frame, as if he'd lost weight in an instant.
"Wow," he murmured, staring at his hands. He could see the bones in his wrists more clearly, his fingers trembling from the strain of holding the pewter stud.
He let go of the metal's power, and the strength flowed back into him. His body filled out again, his muscles tightening with renewed energy. He clenched his fists, marveling at the sensation. Storing strength might have been inconvenient, but the ability to release it later—when he needed it most—was invaluable.
"What happens if I store too much?" he muttered. A part of him didn't want to find out. If this experiment had taught him anything, it was that these powers came with risks. Still, he couldn't deny the thrill of discovery.
Tin was the last basic metal he hadn't tried. The card said it could store senses, though it didn't specify which ones. He picked up the tin stud and focused, imagining his vision dimming. The world around him blurred, the firelight fading into a dull glow. He blinked, straining to make out the edges of the room.
His other senses dulled as well. The crackle of the fire grew faint, the scent of pine smoke barely registering. It was disorienting, like being trapped in a fog. He stopped storing and let out a breath of relief as the clarity of his senses returned.
"This one's tricky," he muttered. "Why would I want to make myself blind and deaf?" But the more he thought about it, the more he realized its potential. In a moment of danger, he could store his senses to avoid being overwhelmed, then unleash them when he needed hyper-awareness.
He set the stud down, his mind spinning with possibilities. Each metal opened new doors, but they all came with risks. The wrong move could leave him helpless—or worse.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the collection of metal studs on the table. Each one glinted in the firelight, charged with pieces of himself—his weight, warmth, strength, and senses. The experiments had answered some questions but raised a new one that nagged at the back of his mind.
What if I burned them?
The card hadn't mentioned anything about burning stored metals, but the idea was too tantalizing to ignore. If storing attributes let him weaken himself in the present to use them later, then burning might amplify the effect. He imagined burning the iron stud filled with weight, turning himself into a living cannonball. Or burning the brass stud, unleashing a wave of heat that could melt the snow around him.
But what if it didn't work? What if burning them overloaded his body, or worse, destroyed the metalminds completely? He had no idea how this system worked. It was like playing with fire—literally.
"I need to be careful," he muttered. "Experimenting's fine, but I can't afford to mess this up."
Still, the thought lingered. If burning the metals worked the way he imagined, it could make him unstoppable. But if it backfired, it might leave him crippled—or dead. The stakes were high, but so was the potential.
"I'll figure it out," he said, his resolve hardening. He wasn't sure how, but he'd test the theory eventually. For now, he gathered the metal studs, slipping them back into the bag. Tomorrow, he'd venture out into Riverwood and see what else this world had to offer. The experiments had given him a glimpse of his potential, but there was so much more to learn.