Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 225-226 (Patreon)

Somehow, out of every outcome that had been possible, the one that Arwin hadn’t actually considered was the workshop actually belonging to someone that was still alive. That certainly made things a little awkward. Grave robbing was one thing. It was practically half of adventuring.

Things got a little murkier when it came to taking the belongings of people that were still alive. Some adventurers would just fix the state of their target so things went from robbery to very fresh grave robbing, but Arwin wasn’t about to go murdering random people.

“Who are you?” the short man demanded, his grip tightening around his hammer with a creak. Magical energy thrummed in every part of his armor. Even though Arwin couldn’t see their stats, he didn’t even need Dragon’s Greed to detect it. The smith on the other side of the portal was powerful. He was wearing equipment that was at least as good as a lot of Arwin’s — if not better.

“It’s not our fault,” Reya said hurriedly. She paused for a second, then cleared her throat. “Do you mind if we take that anvil, though? For our troubles.”

“You seem to think this is a joke,” the smith growled. A ripple of energy roiled across the head of his glowing hammer. “If you want to keep your head undented, I suggest you speak the truth — and quickly.”

“Drop the threats,” Arwin said, his tone as flat as a metal plate. “We apologize. I wasn’t trying to make a portal into your workshop, and we didn’t mean to disturb you. A door showed up before us and we opened it. If we’d known it led somewhere with a person inside, we wouldn’t have opened it.”

 “You don’t get to give me orders when you’re the one that came looking to steal from me, you big lout,” the other smith replied. He pointed the head of his hammer at Arwin. “And don’t act as if you did this on accident. Opportunistic thieves, you are. Nobody is openin’ a portal into my workshop on accident, I tell you that.”

“That’s exactly what happened, actually,” Olive said.

A pulse raced through the veins running throughout the Infernal Armory. The edges of the black flame making up the door started to dim and turn translucent. It didn’t look like the portal would last much longer.

Arwin was pretty sure their unintended victim wasn’t stupid enough to jump through the portal and into a room full of armed adventurers, so all they had to do was wait —

Red energy flared around the head of the other smith’s hammer. It rolled out in a wave, passing into the portal. The black fire along its edges roared as if someone had poured oil into it. He had a way to keep the portal open.

Goddamn it. Why did my building open a bloody portal into some ornery asshole’s workshop? I can’t even blame him for being pissed.

“I don’t think so,” the man ground out. “I’m running out of patience. You lot best start talking if you don’t want me to start swinging. You aren’t the first fools to try to steal from me. Tell me who gave you the way in and I’ll let you off with a light ‘bruisin. And, if you don’t…”

He lifted his other hand. The glowing pool of molten rock behind him bubbled. Arwin’s eyes widened as a thin strand of lava snaked out from it and slithered across the ground. The smith’s fist erupted in bright white flame. He pulled it open and the lava pooled in his palm.  

And, despite the heat washing out from the portal, the hair on Arwin’s neck and back stood on end as realization slammed into him. The man’s height probably should have been a good indicator, but this just made it obvious.

Arwin summoned the description of [Molten Novice] to the air before him with a thought.

[Molten Novice] (Passive) – You have spent enough time working immersed in fire that you have begun to understand it. Unlock your potential to prepare for the first steps in the path of Dwarven forging.

“I’ll be damned,” Arwin said, his eyes going wide. “You’re a dwarf.”

“I’d be more concerned with the hammer I’m ‘bout to ram up your ass,” the dwarf barked. “Answers, trollop. I’m running out of patience.”

“I already told you,” Arwin said, keeping his voice measured. “We didn’t mean to break into your workshop. A key I found in a dungeon opened a portal here. There were a few more steps involved, but they hardly matter. We aren’t looking for a fight, but we’ll give you one if you keep pushing.”

The dwarf studied Arwin in silence. It was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking with the helm covering his face. Finally, he spoke once more.

“Where’d you get that gear, oaf? Who’d you take it from?”

“Take?” A note of offense entered Arwin’s voice. “I made it.”

“He made all of our equipment,” Anna added. “Perhaps we should talk this out if you aren’t going to let the portal close?”

“Did he, now?” The dwarf ignored Anna’s offer completely. “A big lumbering idiot like this? I doubt it. You lot are adventurers. I know your kind. Sniffing little rodents, you are. Not nearly scared enough for your own good. All you do is lie. Lie about your armor. Lie about your goals. Everything. Mere smith I may be, but all your fancy magic won’t keep you from melting alive.”

“I think I’ll fare just fine,” Arwin replied. The tension in the air was rising together with the heat, but he really didn’t want to get into a fight here. If they’d just stumbled into the dwarf randomly, then he would have had far more right to take the offensive.  

As things stood now, they’d basically just broken into his house. If Arwin could avoid a fight, he’d do whatever he could. And if he couldn’t — well, there was still a new anvil he could get his hands on.

Arwin summoned [Soul Flame] over his right hand. It covered his fingers and palm completely, matching what the dwarf had done. To his surprise, the other smith’s hammer lowered slightly and a bark of laughter escaped his mouth.

“Arrogant, overgrown brat. You think your pathetic human magic will do anything against lava? Copying me does nothing but show how foolish you truly are.”

“I’ve got the same magic you do,” Arwin said. He extended his hand. “But I doubt you’ll believe me, just like everything else. So let’s start here, shall we? Try me.”

The dwarf tilted his head to the side, but it took him a remarkably short amount of time to decide he had absolutely no problem calling Arwin on his supposed bluff. He held his hand out, stretching it just through the portal, and dumped the bubbling lava straight into Arwin’s palm.

Arwin didn’t so much as flinch. The lava’s heat washed across his arm and bit at his face, but it couldn’t penetrate his [Soul Flame]. Seconds ticked by. The dwarf’s hammer lowered even further.

“That’s impossible. You’re using [Soul Flame]? How do you have dwarven magic?”

“It’s part of my class,” Arwin replied with a half-shrug. “And I’ve got more than [Soul Flame]. I’ve got [Molten Novice] as well. I wasn’t lying about that, and I wasn’t lying before either. Just let the portal drop. We apologize for intruding on your space, but it won’t happen again.”

The dwarf was silent for another second. Then he let his hammer lower completely. He flicked his fingers and the lava in Arwin’s hand coiled up, sliding back through the portal and working its way over to the pool.

“Can’t do that either,” the dwarf said, but the anger had left his tone and been replaced by curiosity. “Let’s say I believe you for a second. There’s some portal just magically shunting you big oafs into my smithy. Can’t have that lying around. How’d you open the portal?”

“A key,” Arwin replied. “One that I’m not sure I’d be willing to give up. It opens more than just one door. I can give you my solemn word that we won’t use it to attempt to return to your workshop.”

The dwarf reached up to his helm and pulled it off, revealing a tanned face covered with equal parts scars graying hair. A thick, bushy beard rolled out from the helm like an ocean wave and unfurled all the way down to his feet. Beads, gemstones, and other pieces of glimmering metal had been woven into it like a tapestry.

“That could be acceptable, but not yet,” the dwarf said as he tucked the helm under his arm. “Tell me how you got dwarf magic.”

“I think that may be a story too long for the time we have.”

The dwarf smirked. Then, to Arwin’s disbelief, he stepped forward. He passed through the portal and emerged into the smithy, glancing around the room without even the slightest amount of concern.

There’s no way he trusts me that much yet. It would be stupid… which means he’s so confident in his own abilities that he doesn’t see us as a threat. How strong is this dwarf?

 “I can open a way back any time I please,” the dwarf said as the glow of the hammer at his side faded. The black flame making up the doorway sputtered behind him. It vanished, and the key clattered to the base of the hearth at his feet.

Kneeling, the dwarf picked the key up. The rest of the Menagerie watched the dwarf, readied to spring into action if he made any sudden moves. Arwin tensed, but instead of trying to pocket it, the dwarf held the key out. “Name’s Wallace. I’m no thief. You say the story is long, but I’ve got time. I can’t pass up on hearing how a human got dwarf magic.”

“Not all of it is something I’m at liberty to share,” Arwin said as he took the key back from Wallace.

“I reckon you can find something. I want to pick ‘yer brain about how this happened in the first place,” Wallace said in a gruff tone. “Some answers and a drink are the least you could do after trying to break into my house.”

Arwin exchanged a glance with Lillia. He was more than willing to talk things out if that was the alternative to a pointless fight.

And, perhaps, there was a chance they could do more than just avoid a fight if Wallace got a taste of her cooking. It wasn’t like they had anything to lose. Arwin let a small smile drift across his face as he banished his helmet.

“I think we might be able to arrange something.”

Chapter 226

And thus, Arwin found himself back in Lillia’s tavern. The rest of the Menagerie had vacated the immediate area, but they were all positioned close enough that they could return within seconds if a fight broke out.

Reya and Olive were both just at the top of the stairs, whose creaking gave their positions away rather effectively. Anna had taken to helping the imps clean some of the other tables while Rodrick stood outside discussing funds with Madiv, who had returned from whatever it was he had been doing with Esmerelda.

Wallace didn’t seem to care. He leaned his hammer, now devoid of its glow and nothing more than a plain weapon, against the edge of the counter as he drummed his fingers impatiently in wait. The chair was more than a little too short for him, leaving only his head visible above the counter.

“Sorry,” Lillia said apologetically as she set two tankards down before them. She took a bottle from the wall behind her and started to pour Wallace a drink. “We haven’t really had dwarves pass through before.”

“Most places aren’t worth passing through,” Wallace replied with a grunt. “We can do better than what you can. I’m here for the story, not human tavern food.”

There was no insult carried in his words. Wallace just seemed to be stating a fact. That didn’t stop the flicker of irritation from passing over Lillia’s features. She finished pouring the drink and pushed it over to Wallace before pouring one for Arwin and herself and sitting down at the counter beside them.

I think he’ll change his tune soon enough. I don’t care what kind of stuff dwarves normally get to eat. I’ve never had anything that matches up to what Lillia can do.

“There isn’t much of a story to give,” Arwin warned as he lifted the tankard to his mouth. “I got a class through a set of extenuating circumstances that I doubt can be repeated. I’ve been learning to be a smith ever since.”

He took a sip of the drink and nearly choked in surprise. It tasted like biting into a fresh apple — Bright and sweet, without even a hint of bitterness. It somehow managed to encapsulate the feeling of a warm hug beside a fireplace in the crisp winter. Even though he’d only had a small amount, the flavor filled his entire mouth and threatened to flood his senses. There was more than a little magic in the drink. Warmth spread through Ariwn’s body and filled him with energy.

“That’s hardly an explanation. I’m not going to be satisfied with a half-answer,” Wallace said. He brushed his beard down and tipped the mug back. His back and shoulders stiffened in surprise. A proud grin pulled across Arwin’s lips as Wallace leaned back, draining every last drop in the tankard before slamming it down to the counter, his ruddy eyes wide with shock. “What in the Nine Underlands is this? Where did you get it?”

“I made it,” Lillia replied. She didn’t bother hiding the smugness in her tone.

“You made it?” Wallace asked, aghast. “Have you taken me for a wander? A normal tavern has something like this?”

“Does this look like a normal tavern?” Lillia asked, casting her gaze around the Devil’s Den. Wallace followed it, then gave a half-shrug in response.

“Tastes are tastes. I’ve seen odder. I figured you just liked demons a bit too much. It doesn’t explain why you’ve got something like that just lying around. I’ve never tasted anything like that in a human tavern before. Haven’t had it in half the dwarf taverns I’ve been through either, and I’ve been through a fair number of ‘em. Tell me true now — did you really make that?”

Wow. We didn’t even have to lie about Lillia’s past. He just assumed it entirely on his own. That makes things easier.

“I can show you if need be, but it’ll cost you extra,” Lillia said.

Wallace studied her for a second. Then he looked back into his empty tankard. Lillia smirked and grabbed the bottle, refilling the rest of his drink while Arwin took a sip of his own and watched on in amused silence.

“Are you married?” Wallace asked.

Arwin nearly spat his drink out.

“Betrothed,” Lillia said smoothly.

Wallace followed her gaze over to Arwin. Then he grunted. “Damn. Stone’s toss too slow. You could make a shiny one selling this in the caverns. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“A possible business venture at some point in the future,” Lillia allowed, her smile growing. “I’m glad to hear you like it, though.”

Wallace downed the rest of his tankard again, then shot Arwin a sharp glance. “What are you doing, letting it sit? Trying to offend your lass, are you? Drink.”

Arwin didn’t have to be told twice. He drained the rest of the tankard before setting it down on the counter with considerably more care than the dwarf had used.

“Now we can get to business,” Wallace said. “How’d you get dwarf magic? I’ve never seen a human with it that hasn’t been taught — and you haven’t been taught.”

“How do you know?” Arwin asked, blinking.

Wallace sent him a flat stare. “I see your equipment, boy. Cobbled and squeezed together, it is. Not a single speck of proper heat in it. You’ve not worked with lava. What did you do, use [Soul Flame] as the heat for a hearth?”

The dwarf laughed at the question, but his laughter quickly trailed off when he spotted Arwin start to nod.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” Arwin said. “I don’t know how to use [Molten Novice]. Nobody taught me. I’ve been flying a bit blind.”

“I believe you, if only because no self-respecting dwarven smith would ever let their student hobble around making this songless shite,” Wallace said, thrusting a finger into Arwin’s chest. A small frown passed over his features. “But you’ve done a surprisingly good job for cold metal. I saw those gloves of yours. Got more than a lick of magic in them. A fair bit more. Not bad for a blind whelp. You really just figured it out yourself?”

“Just about.”

“Then how’d you get that portal into my workshop? You definitely didn’t craft it.”

“Mostly on accident. As I said before, we got the key off some adventurers in a dungeon. It led into an old, abandoned workshop. An item I was working on ended up gathering a bunch of fire and opening a portal that looked quite similar to the first door the key opened, so we tried it out.”

“You’re telling me an item you made opened a portal past my defenses on accident?” Wallace asked, arching a bushy eyebrow. He looked down at his tankard and let out a regretful sigh. Lillia filled it again.

“Yes,” Arwin said.

Wallace drained the drink, then slammed it back down on the counter. He hopped down from the stool and nodded to the door. “Come on, then. Let me have a look at it. I’ll set aside the rest of my grievances if you’re telling the truth.”

“I think you’ll set them aside if Lillia gives you another tankard,” Arwin pointed out.

“Do I look easily bribable to you?” Wallace scooped his hammer up and rested it on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

A wry smile crawled across the Dwarf’s features. “Damn right I am. That’s why I’m choosing to leave now. Are you going to let me have a look or not?”

Arwin exchanged a glance with Lillia. Then he shrugged. He wouldn’t have said that he trusted Wallace, but the dwarf had seen his equipment and barely even flinched. Unlike everyone else in Milten, Wallace saw magical armor as something to be expected.

That means he’s almost certainly stronger than us by a fair margin. I wish I knew what Tier he was, but for the time being, he hasn’t really done anything that I can complain about. I’d have asked everything he has if someone opened a portal into Lillia’s tavern.

“Don’t know how much you’ll be able to see,” Arwin replied as he and Lillia both rose to their feet. “But so long as you don’t go sharing everything with everyone you meet, I don’t think we can object.”

Wallace tilted his head to the side. “You’re makin’ demands? Of me? What leverage do you think you’ve got?”

“Good luck getting a drink like the one you just had anywhere else in the world,” Arwin replied with a smirk. “Lillia’s one of a kind, and the only thing better than her drinks is her food. If you don’t ever want to get a taste of either again, feel free to do what you want.”

Wallace stared at Arwin. Then he snorted. “You bargain like a dwarf. Come on, then. Let’s see it.”

They headed out of the tavern and back to the back room of the Infernal Armory. Arwin gestured vaguely around them.

“Here. It’s the whole building. The stats are disguised, so you’re not going to find much just by looking.”

“You made an enchanted building? The whole thing?” Wallace’s tone shifted, gaining a slight measure of interest. “Without song in your hammer?”

That’s the second time he’s mentioned something about song in a hammer. What is he talking about? I’m not sure if I want to go sharing how Lillia and I worked together. I don’t know how widely spread that technique is.

“No idea what that means, but I did it without any tutelage,” Arwin said, choosing his words carefully to avoid flat out lying. He hadn’t had tutelage — but he’d had a lot of help from Lillia.

Wallace rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he studied the maw-hearth. The Infernal Armory didn’t seem to mind the scrutiny because it remained perfectly still.

 “What is this?” Wallace muttered, running a hand along the black veins on the ground.
His eyes lifted to the protrusion at the back of the room and his wide narrowed. The dwarf rose to his feet and walked over to it. “What’s in here? The veins lead to it.”

“A monster heart I used as a basis for the building. I just wanted it to power the bellows, but it ended up kind of taking over my smithy a bit. It was not entirely intentional.”

Wallace spun away from the wall to face Arwin. “A monster heart? You used soft flesh? Not stone and metal?”

“Yeah,” Arwin said with a slow nod, not seeing any reason to lie. He still had absolutely no idea why or how his building had opened a portal into Wallace’s smithy. If the dwarf had some way to find out, it would help the both of them. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re tugging my stones,” Wallace snapped. “That’s impossible. You can’t forge flesh. It’s impossible.”

“Well, it would be if you hit it with a hammer. I just kind of made a cage for the heart,” Arwin said with a small shrug. “It was a pain in the ass, but it isn’t that hard. Maybe you can’t forge it because you use lava?”

Wallace’s eyes bore into Arwin. “I’ve been smithing for longer than you’ve been alive, boy. I know how to do more than just sling lava around. You can’t forge the living. It’s impossible.”

“Why would I lie about something like this?”

“A ruddy good question,” Wallace agreed. “Which makes me inclined to believe you. Let’s say I pretend you’ve found a way to do what decades of dwarven smiths couldn’t. What kind of heart did you use? How did you make a building that has the ability to open dwarven portals when you yourself can’t?”

“I don’t really know exactly what it was from. I got it from a flesh golem,” Arwin replied. “The Mesh didn’t have a description for it. It was just a giant beating heart. Kind of creepy. I doubt you’ve heard of…”

Arwin trailed off as Wallace’s eyes widened and his lips parted in disbelief.

“Dungeon heart,” Wallace breathed. “You found a dungeon heart and forged it into your own smithy?”

“I’ve got no idea what a dungeon heart is,” Arwin admitted. “Perhaps you can enlighten me?”

Wallace muttered something under his breath in a language that Arwin didn’t understand, but the tone told him that it was almost certainly a curse.

“No idea what it is,” Wallace mimicked, shaking his head. “Now it all makes sense. My master always told me that the only thing more capable and dangerous than a master of his craft was a fool in it. It seems he was right.”

“I’d say I’m not following, but I think that would just make me play into the whole fool bit even more,” Arwin said dryly. “Care to enlighten me as to what it is that I’ve mistakenly done?”

“I’m going to have to do a whole lot more than that. You’re a loose cannon that has managed something that a no dwarf has,” Wallace said, tapping the haft on his hammer on his shoulder as he locked his gaze with Arwin’s. “And it’s my duty as a smith to determine if you can be trained — or if you have to be destroyed.”