Rise of the Living Forge - Chapter 185 (Patreon)

Arwin studied the single gauntlet that rested on the anvil before him. He’d made it by letting the Mesh guide his work but hadn’t allowed any magic into it. The gauntlet was made from Roughsteel and was, for lack of a better word, functional.

The fingers were made out of connected segments, as was a single piece near the wrist to allow for lateral movement. He’d used a similar strategy to the way he’d made Lillia’s armor. And, as he put the gauntlet onto his hand and flexed his fingers, he had to admit that the Mesh had led him well.

The gauntlet wasn’t padded so he wouldn’t have called it comfortable, but it was movable. He rolled his wrist and flexed each of his fingers to make sure everything could move without impediment.

“I think I’m starting to see exactly how my class is meant to work,” Arwin mused to himself. “The Mesh shows me the basic way to craft something and guides my hands when making it, but if I want the best result, I just use that piece as a reference, not the final result. It’s a prototype. Then I get fancy and get the proper materials and traits by making it myself and putting in my own magic.”

 He studied the gauntlet for a few more minutes, then pulled it off and set it to the side. There were already a number of changes he wanted to make when it came to crafting something for himself and his allies, but he still needed more practice making gauntlets before he could set about dealing with those.

It was one thing to make a piece when the Mesh literally guided his hand and showed him what to do. It was entirely different when he had to do it on his own, and making any significant changes to its form would further complicate things.

Fortunately, he had a whole lot of time to practice. Even though he was a little low on Brightsteel, he had a ridiculous number of scales to work with. Having some Wyrm armor would definitely help him make more of an impression on the adventurers that showed up tomorrow than plain metal would.

The heart from Jessen’s room thumped away in his bag, drawing his attention for a brief moment. Its time would come soon, after he’d cashed in on all the seeds they’d planted by clearing the dungeon. Intentional or not, opportunity waited for no man.

Arwin got to work, using a mixture of the Mesh’s guidance as well as his own steadily growing knowledge as he worked to make suits of armor as quickly as he could. Even with the power of [Soul Flame], making armor wasn’t fast and he didn’t have much time.

His world was the song of hammer and the roar of fire. He worked scales together, pressing them together within the hearth and pinning everything in place. Time swirled past like a rushing river and pieces of armor steadily came together.

Arwin made sure that no magic managed to manifest itself within them. Every single piece was an opportunity to try to push himself farther. To improve upon the last one or to further his understanding of the materials he worked with.

The scales were surprisingly receptive, though Arwin suspected a large portion of that was the heat of the [Soul Flame]. Wyrms were already fire-attributed monsters, and he soon found out that the scales saw being made into the armor as the equivalent of a nice spa trip and a massage.

It wasn’t long before the day slipped away and turned to night. Pieces of armor took form around him. There was no way an ordinary smith would have been able to keep up with his speed, but it just wasn’t enough. He had no clue how many adventurers would show up on the morrow, but there was just no conceivable way he’d be able to outfit everyone that came into the Smithy.

On top of that, he’d promised Lillia that he’d try to make it back for bed. Arwin’s jaw started to clench. He wished he’d told the adventurers outside of the dungeon to come a few days later, but he knew that wouldn’t have worked.

When an opportunity made itself known, one couldn’t meet it on their terms. He had to strike when the iron — both metaphorical and literal — was hot.

Arwin pushed himself to work faster, but he didn’t let the quality drop. There was no point making suits of armor that looked good but crumpled under the first blow. He had a responsibility to everyone he sold an item to.

Stress built in his back, working into his muscles, stiffening his spine. His jaw clenched. There was only so much he could push himself to work faster. Not every limit was completely surmountable without far more practice than he had time to achieve.

Arwin pressed the scale between his fingers flat as the annoyance at his lack of speed started to build. There was no way he was going to —

A shadow moved. Arwin glanced over his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the dancing [Soul Flame]. Lillia sat in the corner of his smithy, a pair of knitting needles in her hands and what appeared to be the beginnings of a blanket coiled in her lap.

She smiled up at him, then nodded back to the hearth. “What are you doing? Get back to work. The night is already half-over.”

 The tension pulled back and Arwin’s shoulders loosened as a small grin crossed his own lips. He couldn’t make it back to the room on time, so Lilia had come to him instead. He nodded, then turned back to the hearth and got back to work.

There was a lot they had to accomplish before the morning arrived.

***

Reya stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She rubbed her eyes as she headed down the stairs and into the common room of the tavern, still blinking the sleep away. It was as dark as ever, but she’d gotten used to it. Her body had learned how to tell the time instinctively, and she was quite certain it was probably somewhere an hour or so until sunrise.

  Olive sat at the counter, pushing some eggs around on a plate in front of her. Small bags had formed under her eyes and her hair was ruffled. She looked over to Reya and gave her a small nod.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Reya replied as she pulled a stool out and sat beside Olive. “You look tired.”

“I am,” Olive admitted. “I didn’t sleep to well and had a lot on my mind. You… know about Arwin and Lillia?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” Olive lowered her voice slightly.

“And what?” Reya asked.

“Well… how’d you come to terms with it?”

“I don’t know what I have to come to terms with,” Reya admitted. “They’re just Arwin and Lillia.”

“But that’s the thing. They aren’t,” Olive said. “Arwin was the literal hero of the kingdom. Lillia was his greatest enemy. Even with everything that happened to them, that doesn’t change the facts.”

“I guess,” Reya allowed. “But that’s not who they are now. I used to be a thief — and if I’m being honest, I think I’m more of a thief now than Arwin is the weapon of the Adventurer’s Guild.”

A small smile passed over Olive’s lips and she snorted. “Yeah. Probably. I just don’t get how you can look at them like they’re the same as us. They aren’t.”

“I spent years on Milten’s streets,” Reya said after a few seconds of silence. “And you come to learn that it really doesn’t matter who people used to be. All that matters is who they are now. I never had the liberty to pick and choose more than that. Besides, Arwin and Lillia only ever wanted to protect people. It’s not their fault.”

“I know that.” Olive set her fork down and her hand clenched. “And I feel even worse about thinking like this because of it. Isn’t it unfair that I can’t see them the same after all they lost?”

Reya sent her a concerned frown. She had absolutely no idea what she was meant to say to help Olive feel better. She wasn’t a fancy talker. She was a street thief.

Is this how Arwin felt when he was trying to give me advice about how to speak to Olive?

“Perhaps you are approaching the issue from the wrong angle.”

Reya and Olive spun as Madiv emerged from a shadowed corner of the inn.

“Godspit. Where did you come from?” Olive asked.

“I took refuge in the corner since last night, so I would not need to request re-entry to the tavern. I am not at fault that your conversation reached my ears unbidden.” Madiv adjusted his frilly coat and his thin lips flattened. “But it seems you believe that your logic and emotions must align.”

Olive’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“From what little context I have, it seems you recently learned the truth of the Hero and my Mistress. It has changed your view of them. You know that their actions were just, but you feel that it has distanced you from them. This causes you to feel worse, as it is disrespectful to feel in such a manner when they appear to have done no wrong. You feel like you are being unfair.”

Blinking in surprise, Olive gave Madiv a small nod. “Yeah. That just about summarizes it, I guess. How’d you figure all of that out from just this talk?”

“Less the talk and more the eyes. They hold great power. Power that I once held influence over, but no longer,” Madiv said with a small smile. “But even now, there is much information that can be gleaned from a simple glance.”

Reya squinted at the vampire. “What, you’re saying you can tell what I’m thinking just from looking at someone’s eyes? How in the Nine Underlands were you so horrid at selling things then? You should have been a genius!”

Madiv grimaced and blew out a puff of air. His features grew serious. “I exaggerated. In truth, I understood Olive because I recognize her thoughts as my own. There was a time when I found myself on the same path. The exact same one.”

“About Arwin and Lillia?”

“Lillian,” Madiv corrected, almost automatically. “Yes. I served in her army faithfully for years. I killed for her. I slaughtered for her. I never expected to meet her in person. And, when I did, I found that she had taken on our greatest enemy as her consort. She betrayed everything we fought for.”

“I don’t think the war was what you thought it was,” Reya said slowly. “Arwin—”

“I am no fool.” Madiv raised a hand to forestall Reya. “It is clear to me that the war reeks of falsehood. There is much I do not know. That understanding does nothing to change what I have seen. What I have done. No matter the cause, thousands on thousands lie dead. I have seen things I do not wish to see. Done things I do not wish to do. It is a feeling that only one who was there themselves could understand. A part of me hates Lillian for taking the Hero on as consort upon the bodies of all those that died in attempt to kill him.”

“And?” Olive asked, her eyes firmly affixed on Madiv. “What did you do about it?”

A small smile played across the vampire’s lips. “Nothing. I am far older than you, and I have come to realize that my emotions and my logic must not always be in agreement. It is acceptable for me to feel distress at the loss of my companions. I understand that the Hero of Lian is not who I thought him to be, but it does not make the feeling any softer. Only time will do that.”

“You just ignore everything other than logic?” Reya asked.

“No,” Madiv said. “I do not ignore my feelings. Such a thing will tear you apart from within. You must understand your feelings, and then make the choice not to let them control you. The truth is a riverbank and emotion, the water rushing through it. Attempting to stem the river will only cause it to overflow and find its own routes. Only by allowing emotion to flow can you choose the path of the river yourself.”

“And how do you do that?” Olive asked, her voice soft.

“By making a choice. Regardless of what I feel, Lillian has the best interests of our kind at heart. In the end, I choose to serve my Queen.”

Olive’s cloudy features were unreadable, but something in her eyes had shifted. It wasn’t quite a decision, but it wasn’t the lack of one either. “That’s… insightful. Even if I’m not sure I fully understand it.”

“It is a river, not a lake. The only way to truly feel flowing water is to be within it,” Madiv said with a wry grin.

Before any of them could say anything else, the door to the tavern swung open and Anna strode inside. She spotted them sitting at the counter and blew out a relieved breath.

“I need all of you. Now.”

“Why?” Reya leapt off the chair, her hand flying to the hilt of Wyrmhunger. “What is it? Is someone in danger?”

“Danger? No. We’ve got a horde of adventurers trying to get into the Devil’s Den and the Infernal Armory, and Rodrick can’t hold them off much longer. Arwin is still working the forge to make as many suits of armor as possible. Can you manage running the front of the shop? Arwin can’t do both at once. We also need backup at the Inn in case people get rowdy.”

“I can help with the inn,” Olive said, a determined look setting in over her face as she slipped out of the chair and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Reya looked over to the Madiv, then back to Anna. A small smile stretched across her lips. “I think we can do a whole lot more than just man the Infernal Armory. Let’s put that practice of yours to work, Madiv.”