Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 260-261 (Patreon)

The Infernal Armory rested. Its tendrils had pulled back from Arwin and the red mist was nowhere to be seen. Heat still gripped the air and Arwin, who stood in the center of the room, was covered with a layer of soot, sweat, and grime. Verdant Inferno leaned against the anvil before him and he held a knife in the air before him, examining the results of the last few hours of his work.

His knife had a smooth bone handle that gave way to a matte black blade the length of his hand from base to fingertip. He’d gotten the bone from the Infernal Armory and had opted not to ask where the building had sourced it. Arwin got the feeling he didn’t want to know.

The center of the handle had a fang embedded in its center, the metal molded around it seamlessly. Arwin tilted the knife from side to side, examining its blade as magic tingled against his palm.

When it caught the light just right, he could just barely make out dim orange lines running down the blade and gathering at its hip like veins buried within the metal. Arwin could feel a faint pulse against his palm from the knife’s handle — one that wasn’t quite a heartbeat but wasn’t quite far enough one from one to be called otherwise.  

The knife’s blade hadn’t always been black. Arwin had made it from Brightsteel, but the moment he’d quenched it with the aid of the Infernal Armory and applied the finishing touches to his project, the dark sheen had spread through the water like drops of oil. They’d slowly expanded to completely consume the glistening silver until nothing but darkness remained.

Arwin was less concerned with the item’s appearance than he was with its attributes. He wasn’t about to give Lillia a cursed knife that wanted to rip her own throat out or tried to ruin her food whenever she cooked it.

And thus, when the Mesh bubbled up to form into molten red words and reveal the results of Arwin’s efforts, the breath remained lodged in his throat like a stone.

The Chef’s Kiss [Cursed]

[Bloodthirsty]: This item has been imbued with the desires of a starved wyrmling, its power smothered under the immense hunger of the smith that forged it. It cuts living and formerly living material with increased efficiency.

[Will of the Wyrm]: The Chef’s Kiss possesses a fragment bound from the soul of a wyrmling, granting it the ability to act on its own. So long as it has been properly fed, this item will follow its owner’s orders. Should it grow too hungry and be offered no food, the blade will turn itself against the one that has used it most recently until it is sated.   

“Well then,” Arwin said, studying the knife. He’d just been thinking he really didn’t want to give Lillia a knife that was going to try to run her through, but as far as drawbacks went, this one didn’t seem too bad. All it needed to do was get a little to eat every once in a while. Arwin couldn’t think of a place where that would be easier to accomplish than Lillia’s kitchen.

The knife remained inactive in his hands. He wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn’t fed it yet or if it knew he wasn’t meant to be its owner. It was difficult to tell exactly how far the intelligence of Cursed items ran.

Verdant Inferno buzzed in the back of Arwin’s mind. The hammer sent him a series of contented feelings before pulling back from him. It vanished from where it had been leaning against the anvil, returning to wherever [Arsenal] sent it of its own volition.

Arwin stared at where it had been for a moment.

Since when could Verdant Inferno summon and dismiss itself? I’ve been thinking that the Infernal Armory is the only one of my items that has a full level of comprehension as to what’s going on, but I’m starting to wonder just how true that is. The hammer might not be able to talk yet, but it’s definitely aware.

I should really make sure I can get that core for it soon. I don’t know what Verdant Inferno will be able to do once it’s actually completed, but I’d really like to find out. I bet I could make that heat-based core with Dwarven Smithing — but not today.

“That’s all for today,” Arwin said as he let his hand lower. “Do you have some oilcloth or something that I left behind? I need to wrap this.”

A section of stone in the wall slid open and a rolled up ball of oilcloth launched out like it had been shot from a cannon. Arwin grabbed it out of the air and started to wrap the knife, giving the armory an appreciative grin.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I don’t suppose you know what time it is?”

“It is late in the evening.” The Infernal Armory’s voice sounded weary, like it had been drained and left with only scraps.

Arwin supposed that was basically exactly what had happened.

“Perfect. I hope I didn’t miss dinner,” Arwin said. He rolled his neck and ran a hand along his face, wiping away a layer of soot and grimacing “Thanks again for the help. I really need a damn bath.”

“Most likely. Do not forget my food tomorrow morning. I desire power.”

“I won’t,” Arwin promised. He took a step toward the door, then paused. His head tilted to the side. “Hey, I just realized something. How exactly is it that you can tell the time? Can you leave the building?”

“I am the building. I am aware of the world around me. Particularly the world in the immediate area of my body,” the Armory replied. “Lillia’s tavern is cloaked to my sight, as is the small building between it and me. My senses do not extend far past this street yet.”

That gave Arwin another pause. He supposed it made some degree of sense that Lillia’s building was somehow cloaked from prying eyes. That sounded like something that her class would have given her — and if he had to guess, it probably had something to do with the darkness that enshrouded it.

He was more focused on the second half of the Armory’s statement. Arwin hadn’t known anything about another, smaller building that should have had any relevance on the street. His brow furrowed.

“Small building?” Arwin repeated.

“Yes. It arrived several days ago.”

That only deepened Arwin’s confusion. “What do you mean, arrived? Buildings don’t move.”

“This one did. It is frequented by an old woman. One who is currently waiting in my main room.”

Arwin looked over to the door. His ears strained. He couldn’t hear the slightest amount of noise. It was perfectly silent. Now that he thought about it, the room was too silent. He couldn’t hear anything from the street outside at all.

“Why can’t I hear anything?” Arwin asked.

“That would be because I have muted the sound entering and leaving this area of the smithy to protect our efforts.”

“I see. And how long is it that the old woman has been in the main room trying to get my attention?”

“She has been knocking on the door for the last hour and a half.”

“For an hour and a half? What old woman is this? Esmerelda?” Arwin exclaimed. “Why didn’t you do something?”

“I have kept the door locked to avoid you being disturbed. She did not have anything important to say.”

“How do you know? And why didn’t she leave if she didn’t have anything important to say?”

There was a moment of silence. Then a gentle cough echoed through the room. “Because the main door is also locked.”

Arwin’s eye twitched. “Why is the main door locked?”

“Because Rodrick is waiting outside it. His information is important, but it is less important than the work we were doing. Being interrupted would have wasted my energy and caused your efforts to fail.”

Arwin looked down at the bundle he held in his hands. Then he looked back up. He wasn’t actually sure where to look. It wasn’t like the Infernal Armory had a face he could stare at, so he settled for the wall.

“I may not like getting disturbed, but what if someone was in trouble? You can’t just—”

“Nobody was in any immediate danger.”

Arwin blew out a curt breath. He wasn’t about to get through to the armory. The only thing it cared about was crafting. All he could do was find out if it had been telling the truth about the lack of importance Rodrick and Esmerelda’s messages bore.

“Open the door,” Arwin said. He hesitated for a moment, then pinched his nose between two fingers. Being an asshole wasn’t going to help him and it wasn’t going to change the past. “And in the future, please don’t trap anybody without me giving you permission to, okay?”

“Very well.”

The door cracked open.

A fist whooshed through the air where it had been.

Then, to Arwin’s horror, it continued on its path, devoid of an arm behind it. The fist hit the ground with a thunk and rolled to a stop at his feet. Its fingers fell limp.

Esmerelda’s head poked in from beyond the door, exhaustion and zealotry mixing in her features. She looked from Arwin down to the hand at his feet.

“Your hand!” Arwin exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, it’s quite fine.” Esmerelda adjusted her clothes with both hands. Neither of them were missing. “That one was an extra. I got tired of knocking.”

“An extra — oh, I don’t care at this point,” Arwin said through a defeated sigh. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“What happened? What happened?” Esmerelda exclaimed, her voice raising in octave as she hurriedly shuffled over to Arwin. “What happened is I felt flows of Cursed energy gathering in this building. Not just once, but twice. There’s someone here. Someone looking to steal my business. I smell it.”

“What?” Arwin asked, more from surprise than from confusion.

Esmerelda lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “Someone is making Cursed items, smith. And I’m going to—”

The words caught in her throat and her eyes flicked down to the bundle in Arwin’s hands.

Ah, shit.

Chapter 261

Arwin went to move the bundle behind his back. It was a childish strategy, but it was the best idea he could come up with. The second best one would have been pelting it through the window and pretending he had no idea what Esmerelda was talking about.

He got time to do neither.

With impossible speed, the old lady grabbed the bundle from him. Her hands flew as she unfolded the oilcloth. Esmerelda’s eyes widened. Her lips parted and her arms lowered, her gaze lifting from the sword bundled within the cloth to meet Arwin’s gaze. Her lips worked as she tried and failed to form a word for several seconds.

“…you?” Esmerelda asked, swallowing heavily. “You made this?”

“Don’t steal things from people,” Arwin said firmly, plucking the bundle from Esmerelda’s hands and re-wrapping it. He paused and frowned. “Wait. I thought you sold magic items. What’s this about Cursed—”

“Never mind that,” Esmerelda snapped. She thrust a finger in Arwin’s direction. “You. This. You made this?”

“And you are not to breathe a word about it,” Arwin said. Esmerelda wasn’t a member of the Menagerie. He had absolutely no idea how she’d moved so quickly, but he wasn’t going to take any risks no matter how much the old woman needed some people to speak to. “If you do, we’re going to have a problem. A big problem.”

“Tell? Why would I tell anyone about this?” Esmerelda exclaimed, aghast. “I’m not trying to eat into my own business here!”

“So you do sell Cursed items.”

“You stay in your lane, devil. This street isn’t big enough for the two of us.” Esmerelda squinted at Arwin, then cleared her throat. “Actually, it is big enough. I just moved in down the road. But that’s despite the point.”

Arwin squinted at her. The armory had mentioned a moving building suddenly showing up. One that it couldn’t see inside. Esmerelda’s shop had been rather small as well, now that he thought about it.

“You moved in? Into what building?”

“Oh, I brought my own. Don’t try to change the topic,” Esmerelda said. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m trying to earn an living here. You’re stepping on my toes. I thought we had something good going.”

“Just… slow down for a second,” Arwin said, holding a hand up to keep Esmerelda from saying anything else. “I don’t think I follow anything anymore. What the hell are you selling, and how am I infringing on it? I don’t plan to be making items like this.”

Esmerelda blinked. “You don’t?”

“No. They’re too dangerous for random adventurers. This is for members of the Menagerie only.”

Esmerelda’s expression shifted in a flicker of an instant. All the affronted anger vanished, replaced by a beaming smile and a cackle.

“Well, why didn’t you say so, you big lunk? I’ve got some commissions I want to make.”

“I — what? Hold on. You can’t just skip past everything. You still haven’t even said why you think Cursed items are going to step on the toes of your business.”

“Sure I did. I’m making an living.”

“Is there a reason you’re saying it wrong?” Arwin asked with a frown. “I feel like I’m missing something. Did you mean you’re making an honest living? You dropped a word.”

“No, I definitely didn’t,” Esmerelda said. “Next question.”

“That is not how this works.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Esmerelda grinned and clapped Arwin on the shoulder, reaching up above her head in order to do so. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a white feather, popping it into Arwin’s pocket. “That’s for you, hon. All yours. When can you take my commissions?”

“You aren’t part of the Menagerie.”

“Yes, I am.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“I just decided to join,” Esmerelda said. “I did just move all the way out here, after all. You wouldn’t leave an old woman out in the cold, would you?”

“I… don’t think I’ve followed any part of this conversation, and I don’t follow this one any more than the last ones. You haven’t answered a single question I’ve asked, and you definitely insinuated that you’re selling Cursed items. Have you been trying to sell us cursed stuff this whole time? Are the feathers I bought from you cursed?”

Esmerelda slid another feather into his pocket and gave it a pat. “There you go.”

“Is this cursed?”

“No. It’s a normal feather. Just like the other ones you insisted on.” Esmerelda’s eye twitched slightly.

“So you’re trying to bribe me with normal feathers?” Arwin wasn’t sure if he should be offended at that.

“Yes,” Esmerelda replied. “Is it working?”

Arwin looked down at the feather. “No.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll sure you’ll come around. Let me know when you’re ready to take my commissions. I’ve got quite a number of them, you know. Say, do you know how to fix existing Cursed items as well? I’ve got a few broken ones that could use a bit of tuning. A few of them are getting bloodthirsty.”

Arwin had to pause for several seconds to actually process the conversation — if it could even be called that — he was having with Esmerelda. Even though she hadn’t actually answered any of his questions, she’d given him more information than he’d initially thought.

Esmerelda has a class that lets her work with Cursed items as well. She doesn’t actually seem all that evil, either. She’s definitely a bit odd and she keeps trying to sell us crap we don’t need. But she hasn’t hurt anyone despite her complaints we won’t purchase her stuff. Beneath everything, she really is just an old lady that wants to spend time with people. If she wasn’t, she’d have left after realizing we weren’t going to buy her magic items.

I’m not sure if that’s enough to let her into the Menagerie, but I could use the council of someone who has a class with any relation to mine. If Wallace can help me with Dwarven Smithing… maybe Esmerelda can help with the Cursed elements.

“I’ll… consider it,” Arwin said slowly. “No promises. And absolutely no deal if you hurt anyone.”

Esmerelda slipped Arwin another feather.

With that, she spun on her heel and strode toward the front door. It opened as she drew up to it and she stepped past Rodrick, who had his fist raised to knock, and headed off down the street.

Rodrick blinked, then looked from her retreating back to Arwin, the question clear in his eyes.

“Don’t ask. I’ll deal with it later,” Arwin said with a shake of his head. “Sorry for the delay. I was a little wrapped up. What’s going on? Nothing bad, I hope.”

Rodrick grimaced. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Is anyone dead or hurt?”

“Nothing that bad,” Rodrick said. “But we’ve got some trouble on the horizon.”

“When don’t we?” Arwin rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Out with it, then. Fill me in.”

***

They headed back to the tavern so they could speak without worrying about someone listening in.

There, Rodrick told Arwin everything that had happened back in the inn, including his suspicions on Twelve’s relation to Jessen. The conversation didn’t take long, and by the time it was over, all Arwin could do was cross his arms in front of his chest and tap his heel against the foot of the chair he sat in.

“Well, shit,” Arwin said. “I can’t say I’m completely surprised. We did suspect that Jessen had some form of tie to someone. That room in the dungeon was definitely too advanced for any Journeyman level adventurer to pull off.”

Rodrick nodded. “The good news is that Twelve doesn’t seem to care about Jessen at all. Just the Dungeon Heart.”

“And the bad news is that he’s in an organization that doesn’t care how much of a raging piece of shit Jessen was, and they’re almost certainly far stronger. How long do you think it’ll be until you can determine what guild Twelve is from?”

“I don’t know,” Rodrick replied. “I’ll be getting to work immediately. But I don’t think Twelve is someone we can fight in the same way that we fought Jessen. He’s almost certainly too powerful for that.”

 Arwin nodded his understanding. “I’m all too aware. Fortunately, we have the advantage right now. Twelve was literally on the street and he didn’t notice the Heart. Nobody knows of its existence other than Wallace, and he definitely isn’t going to spill the information.”

“Not if he wants to ever taste anything I’ve made again,” Lillia said from where she leaned against the kitchen doorway. “I think the real question we need to answer right now is how we deal with the Ardent guild. If they’re scouring the city for the Dungeon Heart, it won’t be forever until they connect the dots. People already probably know we killed Jessen.”

“Because we started selling all the Wyrmling armor,” Arwin said with a nod and a grimace. “Can’t avoid that. Would have been stupid to waste the material. And we cleared the dungeon first. Twelve should have known that, though. Did he bring it up?”

Rodrick shook his head. He rocked back in his chair, chewing his lower lip as his brow creased in concentration. “No. He didn’t. He almost certainly knew, though. He was likely telling us he doesn’t give a shit who killed Jessen.”

“Even if Twelve doesn’t care who killed Jessen, I bet he suspects we know or have an idea of where the Dungeon Heart might be,” Lillia theorized. Her tail swayed from side to side in a slow arc as she thought. “Well, it’s not like he can actually get it.”

“Definitely not,” Arwin agreed. “Even if we wanted to give it to him, the heart is otherwise preoccupied right now. I don’t think the Infernal Armory would be willing to give it up. What we should be more concerned with is figuring out who Twelve is and why he cares so much about the Dungeon Heart.”

“I’m on it,” Rodrick promised. “I figure I should be able to root some information out of the Ardent Guild given how panicked they’ve been of late.”

“Perfect,” Arwin said. “Thanks. In the meantime, we’ve got no reason to do anything differently. I’ve got a lot of work to do crafting, both to outfit ourselves and keep my level up. I’m also thinking it may be wise to continue expanding our network.”

“You mean find someone else to make some magic items for?” Lillia asked.

Arwin nodded. “Yes. I’m in no huge rush, but we’ve already got backup from Melissa’s family once she gets things under control. The more small guilds and groups we have on our side, the more official we’ll become. Selen — the Secret Eye representative we met before — found me some time ago to warn me that there would be guilds that don’t take kindly to us getting ranked and aim for our spot. I don’t know if Twelve has any relation to that or not, but we’ve made ourselves known to the public. We need backup and money to build the street bigger and make sure people think twice before coming after us.”

“Not a short order,” Rodrick observed. He rose from his chair, pushing it back across the floor with a scrape. “But I’m all for it. Lillia’s already halfway through the bigger and better bit. More money would definitely smooth things out a bit. But how are you going to find more customers that we can actually trust with magic items?”

“Just leave that to me,” Arwin said. “I’ll figure something out.”

Rodrick shrugged. “I’ll be happy to. In that case, I’m going to get started immediately. I’ve got a lot to look into. Make sure you don’t mention anything about the Heart where other people can hear us.”

The others both nodded. Rodrick raised a hand in farewell and headed out of the tavern. Arwin and Lillia watched him leave.

Then Arwin turned to Lillia, lifting the oilcloth wrapped bundle in his hands. Her gaze drifted down to it and she tilted her head to the side.

“What’s this?”

“A gift,” Arwin replied, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “Perhaps now isn’t the best time given the discussion we just had, but it’s already made. No point just sitting on it.”

Lillia blinked in surprise. “It’s for me?”

“Do you see anyone else here right now?” Arwin asked with a chuckle. He held the cloth out to Lillia. “It’s a test of my new abilities. Just… don’t let anybody else see it. That might go poorly.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Arwin. I didn’t realize you were making something for me.” She took the bundle from him, confusion mixing with appreciation on her features.

Lillia opened the oilcloth.