Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 205-206 (Patreon)

Arwin held his breath as he gazed upon the results of his and Lillia’s work as the Mesh scrawled words through the air before him.

[Millstone Maw: Epic Quality]

[Reaving Stone]: The insatiable hunger of a Wyrmling has been imbued into this item, causing the grindstone to have increased friction against the plate when rolling across it. This effect will be magnified when it is grinding organic matter.

[Inanimate Hunger ]: While not alive, this item has been imbued with endless hunger that can never be sated. Any organic magical objects that fit within this item and have a Tier equal to or lower than this item’s tier can be ground into paste within it. The duration this takes is increased the greater the target magical item’s tier is.

[The Soul of the Forge]: This is a set item of [3] pieces forged by Arwin Tyrr and Lillian Los. When the entire set is connected, it will gain the [Awoken] trait and become active.

Arwin pulled his eyes away from the millstone to meet Lillia’s. They exchanged a delighted grin and she grabbed his arm in excitement.

“You did it!” Lillia exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. “And that description — creepy. I’ve seen some weird shit, but a bellows that’s guaranteed to come to life once it’s finished… I can’t wait to see what that’ll look like.”

“Not just me,” Arwin corrected. “Your name is right there. Your intent was easily half of the work. I was just the tool.”

Lillia rolled her eyes and flicked him in the chest. “Don’t give me that humility shit. I’m not a little girl anymore, Arwin. I’ve lived long enough to know when someone did something impressive. I helped, but you did the brunt of the work. Wipe that look off your face. You might regret showing me this.”

Arwin blinked in confusion. “What? Why? Do you think the heart might be dangerous?”

“The heart? Eh, it might be, but that wasn’t what I was talking about.” Lillia’s tail released Arwin’s leg only to dart up around his right arm and pull him down so they were nose-to-nose. Her lips parted in a dangerous grin. “Now that I know you can make things like this, you better believe I’m going to be putting you to work in the Devil’s Den. There are so many things we can do that I can’t even figure out where to start.”

“I thought you couldn’t take gifts or payment with regard to the inn without paying for them because of the Mesh,” Arwin said. “Will it allow for that?”

Lillia’s grin grew wider. “I was looking into that. Turns out, while I can’t charge ludicrous prices for rooms or find other ways to game the system, my own room is different. It’s my closest sanctum and the Mesh doesn’t seem to mind when I decide the rent to stay in it is a whole lot higher than everywhere else.”

Arwin nearly choked on his own saliva. “Hold on. Are you telling me you’ve been charging me rent for sleeping in your bed? That’s cold.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I had to figure out some way I could afford your work. And don’t worry so much. The Mesh still makes it so that any price I charge has to be reasonable.”

“Then how—”

“You’re staying with me,” Lillia said. She fluttered her eyes at him, but Arwin could see the amusement behind them. “You’d agree that I’m worth it, wouldn’t you?”

“That is a nasty trap,” Arwin informed Lillia with a laugh. “I suppose you are.”

“Suppose?” She arched an eyebrow in mock anger. “Now who’s cold? Don’t make me take away your pillow privileges.”

“Something tells me you aren’t going to do that.”

Lillia coughed into a fist and her cheeks colored slightly. “No, I wasn’t. You weren’t meant to call my bluff, though.”

The heart thumped in the corner of the room. Arwin and Lillia both jumped, then exchanged an embarrassed look. They’d gotten slightly waylaid from their original task. Arwin was glad the back room of the Infernal Armory was so isolated. It would have been embarrassing if anyone had been watching their relatively poor attempts at flirting. He shook his head to clear it.

There was still too much to be done to stand around like school children.

It’s nice to just… spend time together, though. Maybe a little standing around is okay. Just so long as we get work done as well.

He tapped the Millstone Maw. “Shall we start working on the next part of this? The third one will be housing for the heart, but we’ve still got to make the system that takes the chewed-up food and turns it to pure magic.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Lillia’s tail released Arwin’s hand and she nodded sagely. “We’ll need some form of medium to carry the magic. What do you think would work best?”

“No idea,” Arwin replied with a shrug. “I don’t think we should make the medium something that’s part of the actual item. That would make it a little limited. It would be better if we just had a spot to add it in. Then we could figure out what liquid worked best.”

“Good idea. Then I guess we just have to make the housing and keep the right intent, right?” Lillia walked over to a piece of Brightsteel and nudged it with her foot. “Guess we should start by preparing this stuff, right?”

   “Look at you,” Arwin said as he picked the Brightsteel up and set it on the anvil. “Are you trying to put me out of a job or something?”

Lillia rolled her eyes and took a few steps back before flashing him a smug smile. “Trust me, I have absolutely no desire to swing a hammer around for hours on end around if I can avoid it. I am more than happy to watch you do it, though.”

Arwin laughed and shook his head. Lillia gestured — possibly a little too eagerly. He didn’t mind. Getting to show off just how fast he could smack a piece of metal into shape definitely fed his ego on some primal level, and he was more than happy to indulge it.

***

Melissa’s feet pounded against the ground in rhythm with her racing heart. Sweat soaked the back of the fine linens on her back and the hilt of her short sword bit into her hand as she sprinted down an alleyway, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to round the corner.

A clang rang out behind her as a blade slammed into the wall and spun free. The setting sunlight flashed off the weapon’s blade, momentarily blinding her as she threw a panicked glance over her shoulder.

Melissa’s senses screamed a warning and she spun, lifting her sword as a shadow arced for her. A ringing crash echoed down the streets as a dark sword darted out, nearly ripping Melissa’s weapon from her hands as the weapons collided.

The shadows peeled back like a blooming flower to reveal a man clothed in dark grays, his face completely covered by a mask. Melissa jumped back as the man lunged at her again. She twisted her sword and braced her hand against the flat of the blade.

A second crash split the evening air and Melissa stumbled under the force of the blow, just barely managing to keep her grip on her sword. The man’s eyes were flat and cold, completely emotionless. They eyes of an assassin.

Melissa drove her knee toward the man’s groin. His free hand drove down, striking her in the kneecap. Violent pain ripped through Melissa’s body and she screamed. The assassin thrust his sword for her throat.

She dropped to the ground, drawing on every scrap of training she had to push through the agony. The sword carved through the air above her and she thrust her blade for the man’s leg. Melissa earned herself a flicker of satisfaction as she felt her blade carve through flesh.

It was short lived. The assassin didn’t so much as flinch. He’d already adjusted his grip on his sword. His foot slammed into Melissa’s stomach, driving all the air from her lungs in a pained wheeze and pinning her in place. Her sword fell from her fingers and clattered to the ground at her side.

There was no smug laughter. No offer for last words. The only thing the assassin did was plunge his sword down. Melissa desperately twisted her upper body in an attempt to free herself, but the man was just too heavy.

The blade flashed down and bit into her chest, straight on a path for her heart — and then it slammed to a halt. Melissa laid frozen on the ground, blood slamming so violently in her ears that she could barely hear, as she looked up in disbelief.

A pale hand had wrapped around the pommel of the sword. The assassin’s hands trembled as he tried to push the blade down, but the weapon didn’t budge an inch. Melissa’s eyes trailed the hand back to the body it belonged to.

His other hand held a half-finished tankard of ale and his eyes were glazed over in a drunken stupor. Long, ragged white hair hung around the man’s face and he swayed back and forth as if he were a single sip away from passing out.

“Who are you?” the assassin snarled, furiously trying to rip his sword free of the man’s hand. The blade wouldn’t budge from its spot. Melissa didn’t dare even try to move. The tip of the sword was lodged in her chest. A single twitch was all it would take to end her life.

 The drunkard didn’t reply. He stumbled forward, his foot slamming to the ground just beside Melissa’s hand. Then he blurred. The man moved so fast that Melissa momentarily lost track of him.

One moment, he was standing directly above her. The next, he was behind the assassin. Melissa’s would-be killer let out a strangled gasp and released the sword as his hands shot up to his throat, clawing at it as blood started to race down his neck.

Melissa slapped the sword away before gravity could push its point any deeper and rolled to the side. She scrambled to her feet, her breath coming out in ragged gasps, and stared in disbelief as blood poured down the neck of the assassin that had nearly killed her.

The drunkard had pulled the man against his back and leaned forward to lift the assassin off his feet, suspending him entirely by the garotte tearing into his neck. Melissa grabbed her sword from where she’d dropped it and prepared to run the assassin through before he managed to overpower her mysterious savior.

She didn’t get a chance to. By the time she’d grabbed the blade and straightened again, the assassin’s struggles had ceased. The drunkard held the now-dead man by the hair, a huge gash in his throat still weeping.  

Melissa’s blood turned ice cold as she met the drunkard’s gaze. His eyes had lost the drunken glaze and were as cold as the ice-blue sea. Her hair stood on end and she took a step back. Then she stopped herself.

It doesn’t matter what he looks like. This man just saved my life. Is he one of Father’s old warriors? Maybe I got a little lucky for once. Gods know I deserve it... but I don’t recognize this man.

Her father’s words rang through her head.  

Assume nothing. Trust nobody but yourself and your word. Others lie, but a noble is nothing more than their word and the actions they take to enforce it.

“Thank you,” Melissa said, bowing her head. “I owe you my life.”

“Just get off my street. It’s been too damned loud as of late,” the ragged man said, slinging the dead assassin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I’d offer you something, but I don’t have anything to give. Not yet.

Melissa opened her mouth to thank him once more as she went to oblige his request. The words she was trying to form caught in her throat as the icy feeling in her skin spread, stretching fingers into her chest.

She froze. Her lips felt gummy and thick. Her gaze jerked down and she ripped the hole in her shirt open wider, staring down at the point where the sword had bit into her. The small wound was a sickly gray.

Poison. A strong one. Fuck.

Somewhere in the back of Melissa’s head, she dimly heard her father admonishing her for using words unsuitable to a noble. She barely registered it. Her eyes darted back to those of the drunkard as her throat tightened and started to close in on itself.

“Poisoned,” Melissa wheezed. She struggled to swallow, but her body rebelled against her. Saliva dribbled down the corner of her mouth and she wiped it with a shaking hand.

I need to find a healer.

She tried to take a step, but the poison spread at a rapid pace and had already ripped the strength from her limbs. The assassin must have been paid well. Nothing cheap worked this quickly or effectively.

Melissa pitched forward. She braced herself to land face-first on the cold stone, but steely hands caught her before she could hit the ground. The world swam around her. A muted curse echoed in the distance. Melissa wheezed as she tried and failed to draw in a breath. Her muscles seized and clenched as a massive cramp crushed her entire body in a vice grip.

She felt herself get hoisted into the air and slung over something — and then the world was gone in a blur of pain and confusion.

Chapter 206

The back door of the smithy slammed open while Arwin had a pool of metal cupped in his palms, nearly causing him to fling it straight into the air. He and Lillia spun to find Reya standing in the doorway, her features pale.

“An old dude just showed up with someone really sick and broke the door on the way in,” Reya said, speaking so quickly that her words overlapped each other. It took Arwin a second to decode what she meant.

“He showed up with what?” Arwin asked.

“Did you say he broke my door?” Lillia demanded.

Arwin sucked the [Soul Flame] from his hearth and dropped the pool of metal to the side. The look in Reya’s eyes told him that there was no time to sit around talking. He and Lillia practically sprinted out of the smithy as they followed Reya back to the Devil’s Den.

The door was indeed broken. It had cracked right down the middle. One half of it laid on the ground while the other hung crookedly from the hinges. Arwin shoved it out of the way as they all rushed into the inn.

A young woman laid on the top of Lillia’s counter, her chest rising and falling with weak, wheezing breaths. Anna stood above her with her features twisted into a mask of concentration. Soft white light poured from her hands and into the girl’s body, making it glow like a torch in the night.

The rest of the Menagerie was gathered around the table, watching her with concern — but they weren’t alone. Standing in the corner of the room, out of the way, was the drunkard. It was the first time Arwin had ever seen him hanging around in a group.

“What happened?” Lillia asked as she rushed over to the table, her door completely forgotten.

“He just showed up with this girl,” Rodrick replied, nodding over to the drunkard without taking his eyes off the girl. “Anna’s doing everything she can to stabilize her. The girl’s poisoned. She’s got Cure, but if it hasn’t fixed the issue yet, then it’s something really nasty.”

“Who did it?” Arwin asked. His hand flexed and Verdant Blaze appeared in his grip. “Are they still in the area? Do we need to prepare for an attack?”

“No,” the drunkard said, his raspy voice cutting through the room. “The assailant is dead. He was alone.”

There was no room for doubt in his words. Arwin hesitated for a second. Something about the way the white-haired man spoke felt almost familiar. It wasn’t that he recognized the person — Arwin was certain he’d never met the drunkard before they’d run into each other on the street. This definitely wasn’t the time to dig deeper. Not yet, at least.

“Can we do anything to help Anna?” Olive’s face creased with concern and she nervously tapped on the hilt of her sword as she shifted from foot to foot. “Is there something we could get her?”

“Just time,” Rodrick replied. “And don’t distract her. I didn’t see any serious physical wounds on the girl, so this is something really nasty she’s got stuck in her. If Anna loses concentration, it could be all over.”

A low groan slipped out of the girl’s lips in between her wheezes for air. Arwin’s jaw clenched and he glanced around the room in search of something he could do to help. He had no desire to watch a teenager die right in front of him while he stood around and twiddled his fingers.

Thankfully, Lillia was less lost. She grabbed Arwin’s arm and dragged him toward the kitchen. “Come on. You’re helping. We need to make something for her to eat that’ll give her some strength. It’ll help Anna stabilize her.”

Arwin hurried after her, grateful to have something to do. Lillia thrust a finger at the stovetop. “Fire. You can get it hot faster than I can.”

He obliged, summoning a ball of [Soul Flame] and setting it into the stove. Lillia shoved a pan onto the flame and hurried over to her ice chest, where she grabbed a large piece of marinating Wyrmling meat. She shot back over to the counter and slapped it down.

Arwin grabbed the knife from the other side of the counter and handed it to her before Lillia could even reach for it. She nodded to him as she held the meat down and whacked the knife down on it.

“I need oil. It’s near the ice chest,” Lillia said as she started to dice the meat with practiced, heavy cuts. Every swing carved straight through it and struck the wood below with a thunk.

Arwin rushed to oblige. He grabbed a metal pitcher, giving it a quick sniff before bringing it back over to Lillia. She took it from him and poured some into the pan. Lillia brushed a hand along the handle and a shimmer of pale gray energy slipped from her fingers into it.

She’s putting magic into the tools, not just the food. Lillia did say she did that before, but I never really thought about it.

Lillia tested the pan with the back of a hand, then nodded. She grabbed the diced meat and dumped it into the pan. It instantly started to sizzle and hiss as it met the hot metal. Lillia glanced back at him.

“Do the same thing we did a bit ago. It worked then, and we need all the power we can get with a poison that badly. Focus on strength and robustness. Think of how healthy and strong the Wyrmlings were.”

Arwin nodded. He put his hands on Lillia’s waist, pushing her shirt up just enough to make contact while she tended to the pan. He hadn’t tried imbuing another person with his energy before, but it couldn’t have been that different from working directly with metal.

He focused on what Lillia had suggested, filling his intent with visions of the Wyrmlings’ terrifying muscles and powerful tails. Magical energy poured through his hands and into Lillia’s back. His palms tingled with rushing power, but Lillia didn’t react.

She was completely focused on the food in the pan. She sent her and Arwin’s energy into the plate and occasionally moved the chunks of meat around, somehow knowing exactly when to turn them so that every side was charred to the perfect color.

It wasn’t long before the room was filled with a tantalizing scent that really didn’t seem to fit the mood in the slightest. Tension stiffened Arwin’s back like an iron rod. He had no clue how things were going in the other room. He didn’t know if the girl was still alive, or if she’d even be able to eat.

They didn’t have time to wonder. Lillia didn’t waste a single move. She worked with practiced efficiency, her face tight in complete concentration. It only took her a few minutes to finish cooking the meat.

“Plate,” Lillia ordered, nodding to a shelf at their side. Arwin took his hands off her and grabbed one, setting it down even as she shifted the meat from the pan onto it. He sucked the [Soul Flame] back from the stove as Lillia picked the plate up, snagging a fork as they hurried back into the main room.

It had been nearly ten minutes since they’d entered the kitchen, but Anna and the girl were still in the exact same position. A droplet of sweat rolled down Anna’s concentrated face and Arwin could see the muscles in her jaw and neck taut with tension.

Her efforts weren’t for naught. The girl on the counter was breathing noticeably easier than she had been before. The wheezing had lessened, though her face was still twisted in pain.

“I’m running out of energy here,” Anna said through gritted teeth, speaking for the first time since Arwin and Lillia had returned with Reya. “I think I’ve got the worst of it out, but this is beyond what I’ve dealt with before. She’s not going to be fully recovered.”

“We’ve got something that might help. Will she be awake?” Lillia asked.

“She’s already awake. She’s just doing nothing to conserve energy,” Anna replied. The energy pouring from her hands started to fade. Her eyes narrowed and the light intensified again, but it was clear she wasn’t going to be able to continue for much longer. “Someone’s taught this girl what to do when she was poisoned. That’s not common training.”

“We can deal with who she is later,” Rodrick said. “Can we help in any way?”

Anna nodded to Lillia’s food. “That. Her body needs energy. I just hope she’s got enough strength to eat. I’m going to rest as much as I can and then get back to work. The poison is still in her system, not to mention the damage it’s done to her body. I was focused on keeping it from spreading farther.”

Lillia speared a piece of meat with her fork and held it out before her like a torch. “I’m ready. I’ll feed her.”

The light pouring from Anna’s hands faltered. She stepped back, stumbled, and fell into Rodrick’s hands. She barely even seemed to notice. Her eyes were completely fixed on the girl on the countertop.

The girl’s lips parted. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned, trying to form words.

“Don’t talk. Just focus on eating. We’re going to help you sit up,” Reya said. She and Olive moved as one to help support the girl’s back and prop her upright. Lillia held the piece of meat out.

To all of their relief, she seemed to have enough energy to eat. She opened her mouth and Lillia pushed the chunk of Wyrmling meat into it. The girl chewed, then swallowed. Her body stiffened in surprise.

Then she opened her mouth again. Arwin and Lillia exchanged a glance. Then Lillia stabbed another chunk of meat and delivered the payload. The rest of the food followed in rapid succession. With every bite the girl took, more energy returned to her posture and color to her skin.

Lillia’s food is really something else. Anna too. I don’t want to imagine how dangerous this poison was if their combined efforts are only barely keeping this girl alive.

Once the plate was cleared, Reya and Olive lowered the girl back down. Her breathing had steadied and the wheezing had stopped completely. Anna got back up, waving Rodrick’s worried look away with a hand, and summoned healing light forth once more.

“Where am I?” the girl asked, her voice still weak. “Who are you?”

“Just rest,” Arwin said. He glanced over at the drunkard, who still watched quietly from the shadows. “You’re safe. Someone brought you to us. There’s a competent healer looking over you. You’re going to be okay.”

I’m not sure if that’s true, but it’s not like I’m going to say anything else.

“Thank you,” the girl murmured. “Is the white-haired man here too? He saved me.”

“Yes,” Arwin said. “He’s here.”

Her lips twitched in a smile and she let out a small sigh. “Good. I owe him. I owe you too.”

“Don’t talk so much,” Anna said. “Rest. There’s just one thing that matters right now. Who are you, and why is someone trying to kill you? Should we prepare for them to try again?”

A flicker of pain passed over the girl’s features. She hesitated for a second before answering.

 “My name is Melissa. I am… important. And yes. If my body isn’t found, more assassins will come. I’m sorry. You’ve done enough. I think I can move again. I won’t bring you any more trouble.”

Melissa started to shift forward.

“Lay down,” Anna barked with such authority that Arwin nearly followed her orders himself. “Anyone I am treating will not move until I have given them leave to do so.”

Even as she spoke, she looked up to Arwin and Lillia with a question — and a command — in her eyes. It wasn’t her guild and it wasn’t her inn… but it didn’t matter. Arwin and Lillia nodded in conjunction.

I’m not about to send someone out in this condition. It’ll take time for people to figure out she’s not dead yet if the assassin died as well. We can let her stay for at least a while, until we figure out what the hell is going on.

“But—” Melissa started.

“No questions. Lay down,” Anna said curtly. “I’m not done with you yet. If you want to kill yourself for the assassins after you, you can wait until after I’ve finished. Anyone that interferes with my work is welcome to get in line to receive it next.”

Melissa swallowed. Then she laid still and argued no more. Arwin would have done the same. In that moment, he was pretty sure absolutely nobody in their right mind would even so much as consider arguing with Anna.  

Arwin’s eyes flicked to the drunkard in the corner of his room. They held each other’s gaze for a second.

The drunkard didn’t strike me as the type of person able to defeat an assassin with an assassin this strong without getting so much as a scratch.

 Just who is he… and who is Melissa?

-----

It is time. The cards must fall