Rise of the Living Forge - Chapter 50 (Patreon)

Arwin wasted no time in trying to bond Verdant Flame to himself with [Arsenal], only to be reminded that he still had his other smithing hammer bonded to him. He found the mental bond to the weapon in his mind and severed it without a second thought.

His armor instantly snapped into place around him as [Arsenal] faded. According to the skill description, it wouldn’t come back until the following day – which meant Arwin wasn’t going to let his new weapon out of his sight for just as long.

He reached up to his armor, frowning slightly as his hands ran along a rough gouge in its center. He’d still yet to actually get around to fixing the damage he’d taken during the dungeon. And, as much as he wanted to show off his new creation, it was more important to make sure he didn’t have a glaring ‘stab me here’ target right in the middle of his chest.

Arwin set his hammer down by his anvil and worked himself out of his armor, setting the scale mail down beside the hearth. He still had enough scales to patch the damage his armor had taken, but he did pause for a moment to consider if he should make himself a plate chestpiece rather than a mail one.

No. Not yet. I promised myself I’d try to sell some shit today, and that’s what I’m going to do.

He gathered some scales and brought them into the hearth, letting his [Soul Flame] heat them before setting about patching the damage to his shirt. He’d gotten pretty decent at working with the scales, so the entire process took him less than an hour.

Arwin pulled the [Soul Flame] from the Hearth and donned his armor once more. Nodding to himself, he slung his hammer over a shoulder and paused to hide its properties from any prying eyes before scooping up the armor he’d made to sell and striding outside, balancing it on his shoulder in a large pile.

He was a little weary for having missed sleeping, but something about forging almost seemed to sustain him. It definitely wasn’t the same as getting a good night of rest, but he didn’t feel anywhere near exhausted as he should have.

I wonder if energy from the Mesh counts as energy for your brain as well. That’s an interesting thought. Could you hypothetically make so many items that the Mesh just gives you endless energy and you never have to sleep?

Arwin let out an amused huff and locked the door to his smithy behind him, double checking the handle before setting off. It wasn’t like anybody was going to break into the smithy, but it was still his, and it was the first of many steps into turning the drafty old building into a home.

Once I get these things sold, I’ll go spend some of the money getting materials to patch the place up. I think it’s about time those cracks go. I need a cart as well. Hm. Need a cart to sell the goods, but need to sell the goods to get the cart.

That’s bothersome.

He arrived at Lillia’s tavern and stepped inside, blinking to let his eyes adjust. Arwin wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it being darker inside the building than outside, even when the sun was literally sunning right beyond the doorway.

“Morning,” Reya said through a mouthful of food, raising a hand in greeting from where she sat by the counter. “Lillia made pancakes.”

“Finish chewing before you speak,” Arwin said automatically, joining her by the counter. He’d been taught a lot of things in his training as the Hero, one of which being the proper way to conduct himself amongst others. And, while some of that training had eroded over the years, a few bits still stuck around like stubborn specks of dirt.

Reya started to nod, then froze as she caught a glimpse of Arwin’s hammer in the dim lantern light. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She swallowed her food. “You’ve got a new hammer. Did you…”

“Find it in the gutter? Yeah.”

Reya frowned. “Oh. I thought–”

“I lied,” Arwin said with a sigh. “It was a joke. I thought it was funny.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there,” Reya said, not even paying attention. Her eyes were transfixed on the dull gemstones in the hammer’s head. “Is it magical? Did it work?”

Arwin chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Best weapon I’ve ever made, without a doubt. Not that I’ve made many, but still.”

“Best?” Reya’s eyes widened. “Even compared to my dagger?”

“The one that’s currently inside a Wyrm? Yes, I’d say so,” Arwin said with a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you a new weapon at some point. I’m not sure if a dagger fits your new Class anyway.”

“I don’t want a new weapon,” Reya muttered, sticking out her lower lip and crossing her arms. “You made me that one. I want that one.”

Arwin repressed a laugh at her expression. She looked like a child whose birthday present had just been confiscated – which, now that he thought about it, really wasn’t all that funny.

“We’ll kill the Wyrm and take the dagger back,” Arwin promised. “Besides, I’m sure it’s probably not actually in the Wyrm anymore. It’s probably, well… out.”

“As long as I get it back one day, I don’t care where it is,” Reya said. “What’s the hammer do?”

“A lot,” Arwin replied honestly. He hoisted the armor he was carrying. “But, for the time being, I want to follow through with what I was talking about yesterday and get to selling this stuff. It’s starting to get heavy.”

“You really think it’s going to go any better than last time?” Reya asked doubtfully. “There isn’t anything magical in there, is there?”

“Just plain old armor,” Arwin confirmed. “But I’m thinking this time we go buy a cart first. I’ve still got 22 gold, which should be more than enough to get one. With that, we’ll look more legitimate.”

“A sign would probably help.”

“Well, I don’t have a sign. Maybe I’ll buy one of those too,” Arwin said.

Lillia poked her head out of the kitchen. “Do you have a name for your smithy yet?”

“Well, no.”

“Then why would you get a sign?”

“Because Reya told me to,” Arwin said irritably. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call it Arwin’s Smithy.”

“No,” Reya and Lillia said in unison.

“What?” Arwin asked defensively. “It’s a good name.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Reya said. “And if you’re going to sell stuff, don’t you need a smith’s mark or something?”

Arwin frowned. “A smith’s mark?”

“You know, the little badge or stamp that shows you’re the one that made something,” Reya said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You put it on all the equipment you make so when people travel out with it, it’s easy for them to figure out that you’re the one that made something. It’s good for brand recognition.”

“Brand?” Arwin raised an eyebrow.

“I dunno. I just heard it somewhere. Do you want advice or not?”

“Please, continue,” Arwin said. He would have raised his hands in surrender if doing so wouldn’t have caused him to drop everything he had on the floor. The idea of marking his work was actually rather appealing, and it made a lot of sense.

It’s like free marketing. I just need to make sure the mark doesn’t look stupid. Well, that and I also have to get around to actually making a brand of some sort to put my mark on anything I make.

“That’s kind of it. I didn’t think of anything beyond that,” Reya admitted.

Why stop at just a mark, though? One of my biggest concerns has been that the guild could bring me trouble before I’m ready to handle them if they figure out who I am. What if I get a whole persona, mask and everything? People love masks. I could make it as well, from a sheet of scrap metal or something.

“You’re a genius,” Arwin said. “I can’t just be Arwin. I should pretend to be someone else.”

“I didn’t say anything about that at all,” Reya said, staring at him in befuddlement. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly,” Arwin replied with a grin. He laid the armor on the ground beside Reya, then nudged it with his foot. “Watch over that, would you? I need to make something really quick.”

Before either she or Lillia could respond, Arwin was out the door and down the street. He shot back into the smithy and hurried over to his forge, throwing some [Soul Flame] into it and pumping the bellows.

While they heated, Arwin let his eyes drift over the room. He didn’t have any of the metal that Reya had gifted him left over – he’d used every single piece of it in making his hammer. He still had some of the other stuff she’d brought over, though – and that would be more than enough for his purposes.

Arwin gathered some of the scrap and tossed it into the hearth, more occupied with figuring out exactly what his seal would be.

Something catchy. Maybe something to do with fire. Flame, perhaps?

No. Too generic.

What about… Black Flame?

Wait, that definitely won’t work. It sounds badass, but I don’t use Black Flame. Also, something tells me someone else is already using that. I mean, isn’t every branding of flame on a piece of armor going to end up being black?

As Arwin mused, a thought struck him. A snicker escaped his lips, but the longer he thought about it, the more tempting it became. It was a bit on the nose – more than a bit, if he was honest with himself.

I could be Ifrit. A monster known for immense magical power and the ability to grant wishes, though it twists them to make sure the result is always as horrible as possible. Calling myself a Genie would be too arrogant – but this fits perfectly. And, once the guild learns who I am, I imagine it won’t be long before they start calling me a monster as well. Might as well lean into it.

Arwin took a piece of metal from the hearth and set it on the anvil. He hoisted Verdant Blaze and brought it down on the burnt orange metal with a ringing crash. It was a bit awkward to hold because of its size, but after a few more swings, Arwin started to pick it up.

Flakes of metal fell away from the piece as he worked, shaping it into a rough circle. It didn’t take long before he had a several-inch thick disk resting on the anvil before him.

For the design, something simple and clear should work great. But how do I actually put the design in? I’ll have to make it stick out so it gets pressed into whatever I’m marking, but I don’t really have any small tools.

Arwin looked around the shop, half-hoping he’d find a Jeweler’s kit lying around somewhere, but there was no such luck. Huffing, he brought the disk he’d made back to the hearth to re-heat it.

Guess I’ll do this like a kid. It’s finger art time.

Once the puck was glowing, Arwin pressed a finger into the softened metal and started to – very slowly – press a design into it.

It was slow, borderline infuriating work. Arwin had never been a master artist, though art had always fascinated him. Fortunately, the design he was hoping for was far from complex. But, even still, it took him nearly five hours before he actually managed to get the disk to look the way he wanted it to.

His Ifrit design consisted of two symmetrical pieces that made up two halves of a mask, each roughly in the shape of the letter F. The letters were stylized so that the holes in the top of the letter were the shapes of the mask’s eyes, and their tops curled off to the sides at a slight slope to form the bridge of a face. Arwin then added in a few flowing lines running out from either side of the mask to give the vague impression of fire.

Far from beautiful, but it looks how I wanted it to. Definitely recognizable.

Most people probably would have had to stick a handle onto the disk so they could handle it properly when it was hot, but Arwin wasn’t most people. He stuck the disk into a pocket, satisfied with his creation.

Perfect. Now I just need to make a matching mask and I’ll be good to go. Then I’ll definitely gather a lot of attention – everyone is going to want to know what the creepy smith with the metal mask has for sale. This is flawless. I can’t wait to see what Lillia and Reya think.