*COLLEGE OF WINTERHOLD*

WINTERHOLD
SKYRIM

"Alesan!" Llewellyn Dragonborn laughed, being dragged along the College's passageways by the hand. "What in the world is going on?"

"This way, Father!" Alesan answered, beaming at his adopted father. "Sarai said it was a surprise!"

Navigating the maze of the College's lower levels would have left others hopelessly lost. But Llewellyn and his children had spent many months here, splitting their time between each of the eight holds that remained in Skyrim, while the Dragonkeep in Helgen was being completed. Sofie and Alesan knew every inch of the College like the back of their hands, much to the chagrin of whatever housecarl or college student assigned to keep an eye on the children.

Finally, the door ahead of them opened, and two figures turned toward the newcomers. Enthir and Sarai Gellarus both bowed in respect as Llew approached. He waved aside their gestures of obeisance. Enthir had been his friend even when the Bosmer had been a lowly fence for the Thieves' guild, long before he had even known he was the Dragonborn, much less been High King. And Sarai was of course, his most trusted friend, confidant, and lover.

"We have a surprise for you, my king," she smiled, and the grin was like predatory wolf eyeing a staked goat.

Enthir shot him an equally smug grin. "It took us a long while," he said, "With much trial and error. Well, mostly error, if we're honest."

"But we've finally got it," Sarai finished. Excitement was blazing in both of their eyes, and the enthusiasm in the room was palpable.

"What?" Llew asked after a long and pregnant silence.

Sarai stepped aside, and lifted the cover off of the table.

Llewellyn Hereon gasped, and stepped forward to grasp the long weapon that Sarai now offered to him. The long barrel was cast in Dwarven Metal, but the stock was beautifully carved out of walnut. Magical runes hummed along seemingly every inch of the barrel, and in strategic points of the stock as well.

"This is… It's… Is this what I think it is?" he stammered breathlessly.

Sarai indicated a wicker target set up on the far side of the long room.

"It's loaded and ready to go… if you can remember how to work it?"

Lewis Heron smiled and closed his eyes, remembering the movies of his youth, before he had been pulled across the threshold of death into a realm he had known only as a game. He planted the butt-stock against his shoulder, casting his eye down the long barrel. A crude sight had been placed on the top, with a single dot on the end of the weapon, to be lined up with the two dots closer to him.

"Here goes nothing," he grinned, and took long aim.

It would be very bad form for the High King to miss his first shot, he thought to himself, and then pulled the trigger.

For a half-moment, he thought he had done something wrong: the hammer moved, and there was a small flash of sparks, then nothing. Suddenly, a thunderous BOOM sounded, and the weapon kicked against him like a mule that had been wronged. Recovering his balance, Llewellyn peered through the black smoke that now filled the room to see the distant target now wreathed in blue magical flames.

"Every musket-ball is enchanted with a Fire-Rune," the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold explained with a satisfied grin.

The High King of Skyrim gaped openly, and turned back to the other three figures in the room: his friend, his adopted son, and his lover.

"Not a word of this gets out, before we can put them into mass production," he said in a low voice.

"We are already quietly putting the word out for blacksmiths across the eight holds," Enthir nodded in confirmation. "The College will be the only ones capable of producing the weapons, have no fear, Majesty. Without the hidden runes, the weapon will fly apart in an explosion that will kill whoever attempts to recreate it."

"Muzzle-loader?"

"Easiest to make," Sarai nodded. "But with enough training, it can still fire three to four times a minute, at nearly double the range of any crossbow or arrow. And," she placed a hand on the barrel, and a row of runes gleamed along the barrel, "it will hit what you point it at, if it's within range, which is an improvement over… earlier models."

Lewis nodded. "The muskets from our world," had been what Sarai had almost said, but held back for Enthir and Alesan's sake. "This," he marveled, "this could alter the balance of power in Skyrim."

"No, my king."

At his puzzled expression, Sarai stepped forward and took the weapon from his hands.

"This will alter the balance of power for the world."

Author's Note:

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-Tusken1602