The Jarl's task might take days, even weeks, and Kael didn't want to be caught unprepared. His existing metalminds—the small beads strung on his makeshift bracelet—were already full. But that wasn't enough. If the strange disturbances in the western plains were as dangerous as they sounded, he'd need more reserves than ever before.
Kael headed to Warmaiden's, the comforting sounds of the forge reaching him before the building itself came into view. The sharp tang of burning coal and molten metal filled the air, mingling with the rhythmic clang of Adrianne Avenicci's hammer. She stood by the anvil, her brow furrowed in concentration as she shaped a glowing sword. Sparks flew with every strike, illuminating her soot-streaked face in bursts of light. Kael paused for a moment, watching her work. There was a certain beauty in her precision, in the way she moved with the fluidity of someone who had mastered her craft.
Inside, Ulfberth War-Bear stood behind the counter, organizing a set of freshly sharpened blades. He looked up as Kael entered, flashing a broad grin. "Back again? What can we do for you this time?"
Kael approached the counter, pulling out a small leather pouch. He loosened the string and let a handful of gold coins spill onto the wood. "I need a golden armband. Simple design, nothing fancy, but sturdy. Also about five polished round gold beads, half the size of a septim each."
Ulfberth raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting to a look of curiosity. "Gold, huh? Not exactly a practical choice for armor. Why not steel or even silver? They'd hold up better."
Kael shook his head. "It's not for fighting," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Just… something personal."
Ulfberth studied him for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to press further. Finally, he shrugged. "Your gold, your choice. Adrianne can have it ready by tomorrow. That'll run you 125 septims."
Kael nodded, counting out the coins without hesitation and sliding them across the counter. "I'll pick it up in the morning."
"Fair enough," Ulfberth said, sweeping the coins into a pouch. "See you then."
Back in his room, Kael locked the door and settled into the quiet, determined to maximize his reserves. He started with the golden coin on the table, focusing on storing health. As he concentrated, a faint weakness spread through his body, a sensation akin to a mild fever. It wasn't debilitating, but just enough to be annoying. As he held the gold coin in his hand, he switched out all the small beads in his bracelet for empty attribute ones. Kael spent the rest of the day in his room, only venturing out for meals. He focused on recovery, sipping water and nibbling on bread as he prepared himself for the journey ahead. The anticipation gnawed at him, but he forced himself to rest.
The next morning, Kael woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the wooden shutters. As he opened his door, he noticed a scroll tied with string, attached to the outside handle. Breaking the seal, he unrolled it to reveal detailed instructions about the disturbances in the western plains.
The scroll described strange sightings near a set of rocky hills two days' walk from Whiterun. Travelers reported flashes of light, unnatural sounds, and mysterious disappearances. It included a crude map, marking the location of the last known attack. Kael frowned as he traced the route with his finger. It would take most people two days to reach the site, but with his abilities, he hoped to cut that time significantly.
Kael left the city after breakfast, his bag packed with supplies and his freshly commissioned golden armband gleaming on his wrist. He walked far enough from the city gates that the guards couldn't see him before stopping in a small clearing. His heart raced as he prepared to test something new.
Swallowing a steel bead and an iron bead, he burned steel. A series of glowing blue lines connected him to every piece of metal around him—his armband, the coins in his bag, the nails in a nearby fencepost. Choosing a small steel coin, he pushed against it with steel, sending himself soaring into the air.
Kael grinned as he soared through the cold air, the ground dropping away in a rush. Skyrim stretched out below him, rugged and untamed, its beauty raw and beautiful. The plains rolled out in every direction, frosted grass glinting in the pale sunlight. Jagged mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks dusted with snow. A river cut through the land far below, its water shining like molten silver as it twisted and turned through the rocky terrain.
Each leap sent a rush of adrenaline through Kael's veins. He pushed against a steel coin, feeling the familiar tug of power as it launched him skyward. The wind whipped past his face, pulling at his hair and stinging his cheeks, but he didn't care. Up here, with nothing but open sky around him, Kael felt unstoppable. His body moved on instinct, timing his pushes and pulls with modest precision, his feet barely grazing the ground before he was flying again.
Even when he stumbled, landing hard and rolling through the frostbitten grass, Kael couldn't help but laugh. He wiped dirt from his hands, shaking off the sting in his knees, and pulled himself up. The aches and bruises were a small price to pay for moments like this. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a steel coin flying forward, and before gravity could even take hold, he was leaping again.
Even with the power of pewter helping with his balance, the journey wasn't without mishaps. More than once, Kael miscalculated a landing and tumbled to the ground, the impact jarring his bones. Flaring pewter just before hitting the ground softened the blows, but it wasn't foolproof. One particularly bad fall left his arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Kael swallowed a gold metalmind bead, that he started storing health in before leaving Whiterun and burned it to tap into his stored health. The sensation was instantaneous—a sharp, searing heat followed by a tingling numbness. And as though it had never been broken, his arm snapped back into place just as the gold bead disappeared.
Kael stared at his hand in disbelief. "That… was incredible," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that."
After five hours of leapfrogging across the plains, Kael arrived at the location marked on the map. The site was desolate, a patch of barren, rocky terrain nestled among the rolling hills. The ground was uneven and cracked, dotted with tufts of dry grass that swayed faintly in the cold wind. Sparse shrubs clung stubbornly to the landscape, their gnarled branches twisted like skeletal hands. The air smelled faintly of soot and decay, a lingering reminder of whatever had transpired here.
Kael slowed as he approached the remnants of a campsite. A half-collapsed tent flapped weakly in the breeze, its fabric shredded and stained with what looked like dark, dried blood. Nearby, the remains of a campfire sat in a ring of stones, the charred wood blackened and brittle. Scattered around the site were broken crates and overturned barrels, their contents spilled and long since scavenged. A single wheel from a shattered cart lay partially buried in the dirt, its wood splintered and warped.
Kael knelt by the firepit, running his fingers over the charred wood. The ash crumbled easily beneath his touch, and he noted that it was cold—this fire had burned out days ago. He sifted through the debris around the fire, finding nothing of use. No weapons, no discarded armor, not even a stray piece of jewelry or coin. Whoever—or whatever—had attacked the caravan had been thorough.
His gaze drifted to the ground around the camp. He searched methodically, moving in slow, deliberate steps, but the area offered few clues. There were no clear footprints, no drag marks, no signs of a struggle beyond the scattered belongings. Even the bloodstains he had spotted on the tent and a nearby rock seemed random, as if the violence had erupted without warning and left no discernible pattern. It was as though the attackers had vanished into thin air, taking their victims with them.
Kael's frown deepened as he crouched near a broken barrel. He tilted it slightly, noticing deep gouges in the wood that looked like claw marks. He touched one of the grooves, running his thumb along its edge. It wasn't the work of a blade or any tool he recognized. Whatever had made these marks hadn't been human.
Standing, Kael scanned the horizon. The rocky hills stretched out in every direction, their jagged peaks silhouetted against the pale blue sky. The openness of the plains felt unsettling—too exposed, too empty. He needed a better vantage point to see if anything in the distance might provide a clue.
Kael pulled four steel coins from his pouch and arranged them in a square around him, pressing each one into the dirt. Burning steel, he pushed against all four anchors simultaneously, launching himself high into the air. The ground fell away beneath him, and the cold wind whipped past his face as he soared upward. From this height, the desolation of the site became even more apparent. The camp was an isolated scar on an otherwise unbroken expanse of rock and grass.
Turning slowly in midair, Kael's sharp eyes scanned the horizon. Far to the north, at the base of a distant hill, he spotted something—rooftops. A small village, its buildings clustered together like a fortress against the surrounding wilderness. The sight sent a flicker of hope through him. Perhaps the locals had seen something or heard rumors about the attacks.
Kael adjusted his trajectory, pulling himself toward one of the coins to lower himself back to the ground. As his boots touched down, he brushed the dirt from his hands and tightened the straps of his bag. With the unsettling camp behind him and the village ahead, he set off, determined to uncover the truth.