Rise of the Living Forge - Chapter 166 & 167 (Patreon)

Dang it. I screwed up, as you have probably gotten used to. Have both chapters.

OMG. I DID IT AGAIN. I -- you know what? I'm going back to bed.

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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arwin said through a groan.

“I take it that means you have,” Reya said. She looked back down at the letter in her hands, then let out a curse. “Well, shit. That means Charles wasn’t lying. I know being blacklisted is bad, but I’m not sure as to the extent. Can we just… stop working with this guy?”

“I don’t think it works that way.” Olive tapped her fingers on the hilt of her sword and let out a sigh. “Does the letter say we’ve already been blacklisted? Or we were going to be?”

“Already,” Reya said.

Blacklisting someone was a drastic measure to take when someone had completely disrespected a guild or was standing in complete opposition to them. It wasn’t something that should be happening to someone that literally spoke to another person a single time.

Makes me wonder why they hate Madiv so much. He said his class changed… I wonder if he kept any abilities from his former combat class. If he did, I wonder if he went around killing a bunch of their members for some reason.

“So what do we do?” Reya asked. She pulled her hood back and chewed her lower lip. “I could try to ask Charles to help us get out from under the blacklist.”

“Why?” Arwin asked. “They’re the ones that decided to start shit with us. Talking to somebody isn’t justification for blacklisting them. I’m not going to let assholes throw their weight around and control what we do. It’s not like they were supplying us before. All we have to do is make sure our own supplier can get the materials we need and we’ll be fine.”

“Am I making too much of a stretch in assuming that our supplier is the merchant you spoke to yesterday, who also happens to be named Madiv?” Reya asked, squinting at Arwin. “The same merchant that got blacklisted himself for doing something so heinous that the Ardent Guild blacklists anyone he speaks to? The one that’s so horrible at his job that he needs me to somehow teach him how to sell stuff?”

“Sounds about right,” Arwin said with a nod. “I take it the Ardent Guild is Charles’ gang?”

“I don’t know enough about them to call them a gang, but yes.”

“Then you’ve got everything right.”

Reya puffed up her cheeks and let out a slow breath of air. “Right. Okay. I’ll do my best. Do we know when I’m meant to meet him the first time? I might have to take some time to get my thoughts together. Something tells me this isn’t going to be easy.”

Well, at least nobody can say that the streets didn’t hone her instincts.

 “I have no idea,” Arwin admitted. “I imagine it won’t be long, though. He’ll probably show up soon enough. I don’t know if it’ll be before we head out to the dungeon. I’ve only spoken with him once, and he’s a bit… difficult to read.”

“That’s usually a polite way to say someone is insane.”

“Is it, now?” Arwin asked innocently. “Well, I’ve got a fair amount of work to get done today. Now that we’ve put in the application to get the guild formalized, there’s nothing to keep me from getting to work on some armor for Anna. Before I can head back, I’m going to need to look around a little. I need to get my hands on a feather.”

“I suppose we’ll head back to the tavern, then,” Olive said. She blew out a breath and shook her head. “Maybe that dungeon is going to end up being safer than sticking around Milten.”

“Let me know if you need me or if you find Madiv,” Reya said. “I’ll be in the tavern with Olive brushing up on just about every dirty trick in the book I know.”

“I want you to teach him how to be a merchant, not a thief.”

Reya flashed Arwin a grin. “I’m thinking there might not be too much of a difference between the two. I suppose we’ll have to find out.”

With that, she pulled her hood back up. She and Olive nodded to Arwin and headed off to make their way back to the Devil’s Den. Arwin tapped his fingers against his greaves in thought as he watched them leave.

I could probably find a feather on the ground somewhere, but that would take forever. Maybe it would be faster if I just went and found a store that sells bits and bobs. There should be a place for apothecaries or the like. Weird stuff goes into potions. A bird feather should be on the list — and maybe I can get something fancier than one of the disease-ridden creatures that live in Milten.

That actually seemed quite promising. A store that sold random bits and bobs from monsters would actually be perfect for him. He doubted it would have anything particularly rare or powerful, but it would be a good spot to start.

Now all I have to do is find one. Milten isn’t a huge town, but it’s far from small. I’m sure there should be a store that sells what I need somewhere in it.

***

Arwin stood before a rickety old door and squinted suspiciously at the cracked sign hanging above it that pictured a cauldron, so faded by time that it was little more than a brown smudge.

The building around the door wasn’t in much better shape. It was almost entirely made out of rotting wood with a few bricks scattered haphazardly throughout it to give the semblance of some structural integrity. A slanted roof with shingles that stuck in every direction but the right one was perched precariously at the top of the house, threatening to pitch forward and fall off at the first opportunity. 

As far as Arwin could tell, the entire house’s greatest enemy would probably be a slight gust of wind. Its only saving grace was that the ratty hut was so short that the wind would probably break on the larger stone buildings long before reaching its shoddily constructed walls.

And yet, as awful as the building was, Arwin could just barely make out shelves stuffed full of a huge assortment of random items through the single dirty window at the shop’s front. It was the closest thing he’d seen to what he was looking for in the last hour of wandering around Milten.

Sure, it was tucked into the darkest alleyway he’d passed through and the only reason Arwin had even spotted it was because a shingle had nearly nailed him on the top of the helm as he’d passed, but it was there nonetheless.

Huh. Lucky me.

Arwin pushed the door open with a loud creak and stepped inside. He was forced to duck as he stepped into the building to avoid accidentally tearing off the top of the doorframe. The smell of musty books and stale air hit him like a hammer, joined by the distant acrid scent of what might have been burnt hair.

He carefully stepped over a pile of assorted garbage and scanned over the shelves in search of a feather. Preserved flowers, bottles with insects preserved within murky brown fluid, and everything from cups to old swords littered the shelves. There was certainly no shortage of trash.

There has to be a good feather in here somewhere.

He stepped around a shelf blocking his view of the rest of the shop and nearly slipped on an open book. Arwin caught himself at the last moment, then realized he wasn’t alone in the shop. An elderly woman sat on a stool in the corner, behind a counter covered with more random items and cast in the shadow of a shelf.

Her face looked like it had been the scene of a bloody battle that nobody had won. It was covered with pockmarks that ran all the way down her pointed nose. Her lips split apart to give him a grin, revealing a mouth full of crooked, uncomfortably thin teeth.

“Well, hello there,” the woman croaked. She coughed into a fist, then slowly rose from her stool. Her hand found a cane resting against the wall beside her and she leaned against it, hobbling forward and out of the shadow. “It has been far too long since someone has graced the walls of my humble abode with their presence. Would you tell me your name so I know to whom I speak?”

You live here?

“You can call me Ifrit,” Arwin said idly, his eyes still focused on scanning the rickety shop for a feather. He had strong hopes of finding one before the roof came down on top of both him and the old woman. Even though he was pretty sure his body was more than resilient enough to withstand the rot-ridden wood if it fell on him, it wasn’t an experience he was hoping to partake in.

“The visage of a demon? A bold name,” the old woman said with a mixture between a cough and a laugh. She stepped out from behind the counter, moving one laborious step at a time. “My name is Esmerelda. Tell me, Ifrit. What is it that you seek? Magi—”

“A feather.”

Esmeralda blinked, then let a smile crawl across her weathered features. “Ah, yes. A tale as old as time. I have what you desire, young man. I have all you desire.”

Poor old lady sounds like she’s had a rough time of things. People must not come by here too often, and the way she speaks is ridiculously outdated. I wonder how old she is. Seems nice enough, though.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Where’s the feather?” Arwin asked.

Esmerelda hobbled over to a shelf and stuck her hand into it, rooting around the pile of junk for a few seconds before pulling it out with a flourish. A long, glistening red feather was pinched between her fingers. It was trimmed with bright yellow that rippled in a mesmerizing pattern like an illusionary flame.

“The feather of a phoenix,” Esmerelda breathed, holding her prize aloft. “A rare, powerful item that was once gifted as a gesture of luck. I suppose this one didn’t quite bear all that much of it, as it found itself in these dusty old walls after its master fell.”

 Ah, damn. That does look like quite the feather… but anything that powerful is going to screw over Anna’s armor. I don’t need phoenix traits. It would probably end up being fire related or something, and then Anna wouldn’t be able to wear it. I need a normal feather.

“It’s very nice,” Arwin said politely.

“It could be yours, my dear child,” Esmerelda said, her grin widening. “And all I ask in return is—”

“I don’t need that, though.”

Esmerelda blinked. She lowered the feather slightly, a frown crossing her lips. “You don’t? What feather could be better than that of a phoenix?”

“That’s the problem,” Arwin said. He walked closer to her and gestured to the feather. “I kind of just need a normal feather. A nice one, but a normal one.”

Esmerelda stared at him. “You would choose an ordinary feather over a plume plucked from a legendary phoenix?”

“Well, yes. I need it for a purpose. That one is too fancy.”

“I see. A difficult customer, but I know your desires,” Esmerelda said. She slipped the feather back into the shelf and turned toward another one. The shelf wobbled with a creak and a pot perched at its top slid off, plummeting straight for the old woman’s head. Arwin’s hand shot out and he grabbed it an inch before it could land on top of her.

“Whoa,” Arwin said. “Careful. You don’t want to get brained.”

I don’t think you’d survive a light breeze any better than your house would, forget a falling pot.

Esmerelda flinched back and stared at the pot in Arwin’s hand. She looked from it to him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The pot didn’t actually end up hitting her, did it?

“Are you okay?” Arwin asked.

“I — yes. I am fine,” the woman said in a befuddled tone. She slowly took the pot from Arwin’s hands and stared down at it. “You prevented this from striking me.”

“Yeah. You should be careful. You might get injured if you walk around this place without paying attention. There’s a lot here.”

“I… have collected great riches in my times. More than what most could ever comprehend,” Esmerelda said, but her voice didn’t sound in it. She set the pot down and hobbled over to another shelf, pulling out a plain white feather. Her eyes bored into it. Then she turned to Arwin. “A feather.”

“A normal one?”

“The plainest feather of the plainest dove.”

“Perfect,” Arwin said with a grin. “You’ve got more feathers than I thought you would. How much for it?”

Esmerelda looked from the feather to Arwin. Her brow was so furrowed in confusion that he feared that she might accidentally squeeze her eyes out. He hurriedly pulled out a gold coin from his pouch. The last thing he wanted was the old woman getting a heart attack in front of him.

“Here. This should be enough, right?”

Arwin pressed the coin into her hand and took the feather from her fingers. Esmerelda gave him a mute nod of agreement and he grinned.

“Perfect. Thank you, Esmerelda. Have a good day. Oh, by the way, do you have more feathers?”

“I — yes. Do you seek one of great power?” Some of the energy returned to her tone. “Simply speak it and—”

“No, nothing like that. I just might need more plain ones later.” With that, Arwin raised a hand in farewell and headed out of the store, shutting the door gently behind himself so as to avoid mistakenly causing an avalanche and burying Esmerelda in her own goods.

She seemed like a nice lady. I’ve never met a store owner so eager to help before. If this feather actually works the way I hope it will, I’ll give her another visit. I’ve heard people get really lonely when they’re older, so she might appreciate the company.

Arwin looked down at the feather in his hand and grinned.

I can worry about that later. For now, I’ve got what I need to get started on Anna’s armor. This should be fun.

Arwin returned to his forge and quickly set about getting everything ready to start working. He’d already spent a good portion of the day handling things other than crafting. Necessary they may have been, but they’d still taken a chunk out of the hours left before they went to the dungeon tomorrow.

He threw [Soul Flame] into his hearth and set the feather he’d gotten from Esmerelda down on top of his anvil. He turned to look at what metal he had to work with and, in the process, kicked up a faint wind that lifted the feather off the metal.

Arwin lunged and snagged it out of the air with two fingers just moments before it drifted off in the direction of the hearth. It hadn’t been anywhere near it, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. It would have been exasperating if the feather went up in flames after he’d had to go hunting around for it.

He set the feather back down on the anvil and rested a chunk of scrap metal on top of it to pin it in place. Arwin then went back to what he’d been doing in the first place. He had a fair amount of material to work with, but he was notably almost entirely out of Brightsteel.

There was still some left over from when he’d made the sets of armor, as well as three sets of non-magical armor sitting out in the front room of the smithy. Destroying them to make Anna’s armor felt rather wasteful, though.

It wasn’t like Brightsteel was the only material he could work with. In addition to the plates he’d taken from the spider and the centipede back in Olive’s dungeon, he also had Jessen’s spiky black suit of armor.

A small grin pulled across Arwin’s face. It would be an amusing note of irony to take the tyrant guild leader’s armor and reform it into a set for a healer. Jessen had been large, so he had more than enough to work with.

The more Arwin thought about it, the more the idea actually appealed to him. It would all boil down to if the feather could actually lighten the armor enough for Anna to use it and there was only one way to find out.

He moved the feather and the scrap holding it down over to the corner of the room before retrieving Jessen’s chestpiece and placing it on the anvil. It just seemed like normal metal, but that wasn’t saying much.

Arwin didn’t have any way to identify items when they were being worn by someone else, and he’d done some massive damage to Jessen before the man had died. The massive hole in the chest armor was proof enough of that, and it was severe enough that any magic the chestpiece may have once had would almost certainly have been destroyed by the time Jessen died.

Fortunately for me, metal remembers. Even if the magic isn’t there anymore, it’ll remember. I can’t be working with some evil metal that rejoiced in everything Jessen did. The set is for Anna, after all. Don’t need a bloodthirsty healer.

He set his hands on the rough surface of the warped black metal and drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to steady himself. Arwin opened his mind and reached out to the chestpiece.

Its response was slow. The metal was sluggish and weary, as if it had been woken from a long sleep. Distant scenes flickered through the back of Arwin’s mind. It had seen so many battles that they’d blended together into a blur.

There had been a point where the armor had once been excited for its purpose. It had been a suit of armor for so long that it didn’t even show Arwin any memories of what it had been before.

Jessen hadn’t been its first owner. That was certain. Arwin watched the chestpiece pass from hand to hand. It protected. It broke. It was rebuilt, and it served. Over and over again, it was worn through battles.

The distant scent of fresh earth reached Arwin’s nose, and it took him a second to realize that the smell wasn’t coming from around him. It was from the metal itself — or rather, the memory of magic that had once been within it.

Magical Olfactory works within visions and when speaking to materials? Now that’s good to know.

Arwin didn’t let himself get caught up in it. He rode out the wave of imagery, feeling the metal out. It didn’t seem like it had been either bad or good. It had simply been. It was weary, but it was willing to serve.

The magic within it hadn’t seemed to be evil or rancid either. Granted, Arwin had yet to figure out exactly what the scents of different items actually meant, but nothing in the visions had given the indication that working with Jessen’s old armor would be a detriment.

There was a thin undercurrent of fear within the metal’s desires. It didn’t want to be forgotten. Every one of its owners had fallen and it had never reached its goals. Arwin couldn’t quite determine what those goals were, but he could tell that the chestpiece had no desire to be anything but a chestpiece.

“Well then,” Arwin said, pulling his mind back and looking back down at the armor resting on the anvil before him. “I think we can work together. I’m making a suit of armor for someone pretty different than everyone you’ve served before. Not a warrior. A healer. Someone who protects. How do you feel about that?”

The metal brushed against his thoughts. It wasn’t magical and its desires were already weak and muted, but the faint flicker of acknowledgement it sent him was all he needed. This was no fresh and excited ingot of metal, unaware of the world before it and full of energy.

The chestpiece was weary and experienced. It wanted purpose but had yet to find it, and now it was up to Arwin to find a way to offer a path forward. He extended a hand and summoned Verdant Blaze.

“Let’s do this,” Arwin told the metal. “Help me make you into something great.”

Then he brought the hammer down. It felt a bit rude to start whacking away right after speaking to the chestpiece, but it was too large and spiky to fit into his hearth as it was. He needed to break it into smaller pieces. Besides, metal didn’t see things the way humans did. It wasn’t like it got hurt when he struck it. There was only desire — and desire unfulfilled.

It didn’t take Arwin long to break the armor up. Once he had it split into several large, plates and a number of smaller ones, he put the biggest pieces into the hearth to heat. Arwin raised the temperature of the [Soul Flame] within it, pouring more magical energy into it.

A dull red started to spread across the black metal’s surface. That red started to take on faint spots of yellow as the former pieces of armor grew hotter. Arwin tilted his head to the side as he watched the hearth.

I wonder if I could heat stone enough to create lava. It’s been a while since I triggered [Molten Novice]. I really don’t know anything about dwarven forging, but I’d love to learn. I just don’t know where I’d actually put lava without destroying something. If I could get back to that room in the dungeon with the lava pool, it would make everything a lot easier. I’ve still got the key.

Minutes passed. Arwin turned his attention back to the armor as it continued to heat, watching it to make sure the [Soul Flame] didn’t take things too far. He pulled back on the energy he was feeding it as the metal reached a wheat color and took the first piece out. He set it on the anvil and raised Verdant Blaze, a smile pulling across his lips. Then the hammer fell. Embers flew into the air as [Soul Flame] curled from Verdant Blaze’s head.

The clang of metal filled the smithy. Arwin hammered away at the piece, flattening it into a workable plate before doing the same to the next part of what had once been Jessen’s armor. With every strike, he washed away the dead man’s influence and brought it closer to its new life.

He worked quickly but without rushing. There was no point rushing the piece out in nine hours and getting a subpar result when he could just spend three more hours and get something far better.

Deadlines were important, but not more important than making a chestpiece that would last Anna for as long as she needed it to. The last thing he wanted was a flawed piece of equipment that would fail to hold up under an attack.

Hours ticked by. Progress moved along steadily. Arwin already had an image of the armor he wanted in his head so while the work didn’t go as quickly as it would have if the Mesh had been guiding him, it still went quickly. The [Soul Flame] empowered strikes made working the metal a simple matter.

It wasn’t quite as malleable as Brightsteel, but it wasn’t as resistant as Maristeel. Arwin didn’t know what the black metal’s name was, but it felt like a solid middle ground between the two.

Piece by piece, the armor started to take form. He followed a similar idea to how he’d made Lillia’s armor, creating several moving segments near the stomach area. Anna probably wouldn’t need quite as much mobility as Lillia did, so he made fewer of them to give her more protection overall.

That would mean the armor would end up being heavier, but he had high hopes that the feather would solve that particular issue. If it didn’t, Anna wouldn’t be able to use the armor regardless of how mobile it was.

He took care to avoid getting too caught up in any one part and focused on getting everything made and roughly shaped. Calling on the Mesh to show him Anna’s sizing would result in a weakened final result, so he’d have to measure everything himself once it was formed.

It was dark out when Arwin finished the majority of his preparation. Half a dozen pieces sat on the ground before him, laid out and cooled in wait to be tested out. He hurried out of the smithy and over to the tavern in hopes of catching Anna before she went to bed.

Several heads turned to him as he stepped through the door — he’d caught the others right as they were eating dinner. Arwin grinned. “Ah, perfect. I was worried it would be too late.”

“Too late for what?” Rodrick asked, lowering the fork from his mouth. “Did something happen?”

“No. I just need to borrow Anna to measure her sizing for the armor for a moment,” Arwin replied. “Do you have a moment, Anna?”

“Sure,” Anna replied. She slipped down from her stool. “How long will it take?”

“Only a few minutes.” Arwin nodded to the others, then held the door open for Anna before following her out onto the street and back over to his smithy and into its back room.

“So what do I do?” Anna asked, looking at all the pieces laying on the floor. “Is there a way to fasten them on or something?”

“No, we don’t need to do that. Just hold still. I should probably get a measuring stick or something at some point, but this’ll do for now,” Arwin said idly, picking up the front plate of the chestpiece and holding it up to Anna’s chest. “Hold this here.”

Anna obliged, grunting slightly at the weight. While she held it up, Arwin gathered a mote of [Soul Flame] at his fingertip and increased its temperature. He used it to make markings along the outside of the armor, then took the plate of metal from Anna and handed her the next one.

In that manner, they went through the rest of the armor pieces. Arwin marked each one of them, and they’d gotten all the measurements he needed just around twenty minutes later. It wasn’t the most efficient way of doing things, but it worked.

“What’s next?” Anna asked.

“That’s it,” Arwin replied absent-mindedly, his mind already back on the chestpiece. “Thanks for your help.”

“I think I’m the one that should be thanking you,” Anna said with a laugh. “But I’ll do that when you’re fully present. See you tomorrow, Arwin.”

Arwin nodded, her words only barely reaching his head. The door closed behind him as Anna left, but he barely even heard it.

He scooped the single feather off the ground where it had been pinned beneath a rock and placed it upon the anvil, a flicker of excitement coursing through him. He had everything he needed. The chestpiece was ready to move into its final step.

It was time to add in some magic.