Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 131-132 (Patreon)

For the first time in a while, Arwin spent the night in his own room. Lillia had been fast asleep when he’d gotten back and it sounded like she was actually resting peacefully. He didn’t want to wake her up on accident, so he’d crept up the stairs and into his bed.

It was a strange feeling in multiple ways. At first, it felt strange to be sleeping alone in his bed again. Then it felt even stranger due to the realization that he felt more comfortable in Lillia’s bed than his.

Some miracle let Arwin drift off, but when he woke the following morning to bright light streaming through his window and straight into his eyes, he was promptly reminded of the previous night’s thoughts.

His features twisted in annoyance. Arwin held a hand up, blocking the sun as he rolled out of bed and let out a huff.

This is seriously getting out of hand. I can’t let myself keep dwelling on her like this. It’s… just not right.

That probably meant the logical move would have been to somehow crush the feelings so they’d stop interfering with him. But, then again, they weren’t exactly interfering either. They were just kind of… there.

Perhaps I’m just trying to convince myself of things again.

The alternative would have been mentioning his thoughts to Lillia, but the thought sent a shudder down his spine. There was too much relying on their continued partnership. He couldn’t afford to sour anything when the stakes were so much bigger than just him and Lillia.

Arwin shook his head to force the thoughts from them. This wasn’t the time or the place. He’d just have to do something to make his room somehow become more appealing than Lillia’s – starting with some bloody curtains.

A quick trip brought him downstairs, where he could hear Lillia preparing for the day in the kitchen. He nearly tripped over an imp that was busy polishing the bottom stair with a cloth. He stumbled, cursing to himself and barely avoiding accidentally squishing the monster.

Who polishes stairs first thing in the morning?

Lillia poked her head out of the kitchen. “You okay?”

“There was a hazard on the stairs,” Arwin said, sending a cross look at the imp. It stared back at him blankly, holding the rag in one hand.

“Oh, was there?” Lillia sent him a blank stare. Something about her tone felt off, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. Her gaze flicked from him to the imp. “Don’t do that. It can be dangerous.”

The imp blinked, then looked from its rag to Lillia. It tilted its head to the side as if to ask a question. Lillia quickly stepped back into the kitchen, leaving Arwin even more befuddled than before.

What’s up with her?

Arwin stepped into the kitchen after Lillia. “I think I missed something.”

“What?” Lillia looked over her shoulder, her cheeks slightly redder than normal. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. That’s the problem,” Arwin said, his brow furrowed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Lillia said with an embarrassed cough. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s fine. I was just talking to the imp.”

“About cleaning the stairs?”

“Oh, drop it. Please.” Lillia massaged her brow. “It’s nothing. Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, I suppose,” Arwin said after a moment of hesitation. “Brighter than I was used to.”

“It was,” Lillia agreed. They both fell silent for a few seconds. Arwin typically didn’t mind the silence, but something about it felt considerably more awkward than he was used to. Mercifully, Lillia broke it.

“Why’d you go to your room?” Lillia asked.

“Last night?” The back of Arwin’s neck heated. He wasn’t even sure why it was embarrassed – it was a perfectly reasonable question. “You were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh,” Lillia said. Neither of them said anything else for a little while longer. Lillia turned back to the board of vegetables she’d been chopping. “Next time, wake me up.”

Arwin blinked. “Are you sure? I–”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, please,” Lillia said, not looking back at him. “Just wake me up next time.”

A warm feeling wrapped around Arwin’s chest. He tried to push it back, but it was like trying to scoop the ocean away with a bucket full of holes. All he could do was intently study the wall.

“If you’re sure. I get back pretty late sometimes.”

Lillia’s knife smacked into the vegetables and she let out a snort. “I know. Just… wake me up.”

“I’ll do that,” Arwin promised. His best attempts to keep his voice even definitely didn’t do nearly as much as he’d hoped. Lillia didn’t seem to take notice of it, which he was grateful for.

She must be too focused on her cooking. I get that.

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a few seconds, then cleared his throat. “I’m going to go work. I’ve got the bottom half of a set made for Rodrick, but I’m going to try to make him the top as well and finish the whole thing today before giving it to him. Do you think you could keep an eye on it?”

“Sure,” Lillia said, still not turning from her work. “I’ll send an imp up.”

Arwin nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him because she was facing the wrong way. The urge to smack his forehead against the wall gripped him. He managed to ignore it and let out a huff, striding out of the kitchen and setting course for the forge.

His mind needed to be focused. There was no time for this. Fortunately, the forge was calling his name.

***

Lillia stared at the knife embedded into her makeshift cutting board, her cheeks burning so red that she feared they were going to pop off and run away on their own. She could barely believe the words that had come out of her own mouth.

What is wrong with me? Did I really just tell him to wake me up if I fall asleep before he gets back?

She yanked the knife out of the cutting board and brought it down again. It struck the board too hard and embedded itself in the wood. Lillia repressed a curse. She’d never been more grateful to have remembered to tuck her tail into her pants that morning. If she hadn’t, it would have been swaying around like mad. It was already doing its best to defy her orders and escape its containment. If it had been free, the results would have been catastrophic to her ego.

I will not let my tail wag like some stupid little schoolgirl.

She yanked the knife out of the cutting board again. Something had been seriously wrong with her. Lillia pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, making sure it wasn’t hotter than it should have been.

Forget not being able to get sick. I have to have come down with something. This sounds exactly like the stories I was told of what happens to humans when they come near a miniscule monster that enters their body and corrupts them from within for a short period of time.

Lillia brought the knife down once more, this time managing to avoid embedding it in the wood. She pushed some of the vegetables to the side and pressed her lips together. Her body felt like it had been fighting her for days now.

The way she was acting around Arwin made absolutely no sense. He had no reason to have to lull her to sleep like a doting father. Arwin already had enough to worry about, and he’d done more than he’d needed to. If he wanted to get some rest in his own, considerably more comfortable bed, she had no right to interfere.

Even wanting to interfere was childish. Lillia’s cheeks started to redden again and a memory of his hands running up her face and covering her eyes flickered through her mind again.

The knife fell, splitting the cutting board in two. Lillia cursed and set it to the side, pulling at her hair as she repressed a groan. Something was seriously wrong with her. This wasn’t the way that the demon queen was meant to act.

Even if she wasn’t truly the demon queen anymore, that didn’t mean she should be reduced to a sniveling child longing for comfort the moment she got an iota of it. She was more capable than that.

I need to go tell him that he doesn’t actually have to come wake me up. We’ve all got our own roles to play and he can’t spend his babying me. Besides, I have work to do. Wasting time thinking about this is just going to hinder me.

Lillia nodded to herself. She pushed her broken cutting board to the side and turned toward the entrance to the common room to follow after Arwin. It hadn’t been long enough for him to actually get started on his work, so she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be interrupting anything.

Her legs wouldn’t move.

Lillia couldn’t bring herself to step out of the kitchen and take back her words. The idea made the back of her spine prickle and her stomach clench with the same sickly, painful feeling that had been haunting her for the past few days.

I don’t want to tell him to stop and sleep in his own bed. It’s more comfortable when he’s there.

Lillia stared at the wall, her hands twitching at her sides. There had to be a logical reason she was so confused. She turned back to the kitchen, shaking her head. It was a bad idea to go looking for Arwin when she didn’t even know what she wanted to say.

I wonder if he was having similar problems. He can’t have, because he went to bed without me. Gah. I’m so annoyed.

Why am I annoyed? What is wrong with me?

Lillia pulled at her hair again. She nearly put her head through the wall in an attempt to clear it, but the idea of damaging her inn was so vile that she couldn’t even fathom it. The chopped cutting board had already been enough.

It just makes no sense. The way I’m acting is completely illogical. For the sake of our entire guild, I need to figure out what my problem is and fix it before it impacts my effectiveness. What is it with him that’s causing me so much trouble?

Lillia drummed her fingers on her thigh as she thought. It wasn’t just someone in particular. She’d tried calling her imps to her last night. Their presence, while welcome, hadn’t done the slightest bit to make her feel differently.

She considered asking Reya to spend the night but dismissed the idea. Reya was a nice girl, but she wasn’t exactly comforting. No, this had something to do with Arwin in particular. Lillia chewed her lower lip, her brow furrowing. It felt like she wasn’t that far off. There was no reason for this to be as difficult as it was. There had to be–

And then, like a hammer blow, it hit her.

Godspit.

I have romantic feelings for Arwin.

Chapter 132

Arwin scrubbed at a plate of Maristeel. He’d been at it for the past hour or so, and it was just finally starting to clear out. The grime covering the metal was beyond stubborn. He’d tried burning it to see if that would work faster, but the result was the vilest black smoke that he’d ever smelt or seen.

Even being near it felt like it would somehow twist Arwin into an undead. That idea was quickly abandoned and he returned to the tried-and-true method if scratching at the metal. And now his efforts had finally paid off.

After working for a few more minutes, Arwin brushed the flecks of grime away and held the newly polished Maristeel up to the light of the hearth. Blue ripples swirled across its surface in greeting.

It was ready to use and it was about time. He’d spent a lot more time than he’d thought yesterday working on Rodrick’s greaves, and he hadn’t had a chance to make himself any food. The time was getting a little tight before he had to make something else.

I know I can make some bracelets with no problem, so that shouldn’t be a big problem yet. I can make two if I really need to. That’ll come after I make the chestpiece, then. I think I should be able to get it done today before nightfall since I already have a pretty good understanding of what I need to do.

It would follow a similar pattern to the greaves, focusing on light but effectively protected vital areas. He already had all the Brightsteel and Maristeel he needed. The leather was another story. There was almost none of it left.

He headed out, pausing as he spotted his old smithy. Ridley had been hard at work, and it was showing. The stone walls were already up to his head in height and the building was starting to look like, well, a building.

It seemed like it wouldn’t be long before the mason was done. Arwin continued on to the tavern, his mood considerably heightened. He stepped through the door to the clink of cutlery and was pleased to find Reya and Rodrick eating breakfast.

“You’re back early,” Rodrick said. “What happened? Don’t tell me you burned down your smithy.”

“No, though it’s definitely far from the ideal working environment,” Arwin admitted. “I realized I was out of leather and came looking for Reya.”

“Oh, I can get you some more,” Reya said. “When do you need it by?”

“Anytime in the evening would be fine.”

“Great,” Reya said. “That’s no problem.”

“Thank you.” Arwin went to turn but paused. “Where is Anna?”

“Oh, she’s out shopping for Lillia with Olive. They’re looking for some specific ingredients for Lillia in the market. They should be back soon enough.”

“Ah,” Arwin said, keeping the surprise from his voice and suppressing a laugh. He’d somehow forgotten that Olive had joined their guild, if only for the time being. “Right. That makes sense. I’ll be in the smithy, then.”

He headed out of the tavern and across the street to his workshop, where he tossed his [Soul Flame] into his hearth. His heart ached for his real smithy.

Arwin could hardly wait, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. The smithy would be done in a few days. It could be his reward for dealing with the Wyrm horde… assuming they managed to pull it off. If not, then it could be his consolation prize.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Those weren’t the kind of thoughts he could afford right now. They had a plan to deal with the Wyrms. It was as good of a plan as they could get, and they were all getting rather powerful for their tier.

Between a new member, the gear he was making, and their other abilities, Arwin was confident they could handle the threat.

But, if they were going to do that, he needed to make this armor. He picked up the Maristeel and set it into the hearth to let it heat. He put in his last bar of Brightsteel along with it. The Brightsteel, as usual, drew up to temperature first.

Arwin removed the metal and brought it to the anvil, setting to work. It was a process he’d done many times before. He’d started to get quite used to working with Brightsteel and Verdant Blaze made short work of the process.

As usual, he broke it off into pieces once the impurities had been worked out of it. He tested each one to make sure he was only working with components that were interested in being a chestpiece, then set everything aside to work on the Maristeel.

He hammered it out and broke it off into pieces, testing each one. There really wasn’t a need. The blue metal was as open to suggestion as always. It was just happy to be used. That was a stark contrast to the vision that had struck Arwin when he’d been making the greaves.

I wonder at what point the Maristeel and Brightsteel both went from being easily workable to resistant. Is it because they were instantly Awoken because of my achievement, or was it because I upgraded the [Awaken] ability? Or maybe it’s that adding magic into materials can cause them to change… personalities? I’m not sure what else to call it.

He wasn’t going to get the answers sitting around and wondering. Arwin shook his head and got back to work. He cleared his anvil of the Maristeel and re-heated some Brightsteel before getting to work hammering it out.

There was a lot of work left to handle before night fell.

***

A chill ran down the back of Rex’s spine as a cold wind blew through the alleyway and made his hair stand on end. Even though it was nearly midday, the clouds hung stubbornly in the sky and blocked out the sun, casting the world in dull gray hues. He sent a superstitious glance over his shoulder as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Damn Jessen. I joined the Iron Hounds to hunt monsters and become powerful, not run errands and poke around a shitty ass street.

The curses remained within Rex’s mind. He wasn’t nearly stupid enough to consider voicing them. When Jessen told you to do something, you did it. If you didn’t, you were liable to meet a gruesome end at the end of a dungeon you were ill-prepared for.

Jessen had been even more maddening in recent days than Rex could recall. The man’s ire had been at an all-time high. It didn’t take a genius to tell that it was a result of the guild’s co-leader and two other members all going missing on the same day.

Rex shook his head and continued down the street. It wasn’t a surprise that they’d picked up enemies, but Jessen had never cared this much about death before. They’d gone through three co-leads in the time he’d been in the guild.

Who gives a shit about them? Erik was an asshole anyway. We’re better off without that idiot. It won’t be long before we can finally get out of this shithole city and move on. Just a few more days.

This is the last shitty assignment I’ll have to deal with. It’s all riches and women from here on out.

Rex drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Once they were all at the peak of Journeyman tier, they’d be strong enough to get a spot at the bottom of the Guild Rankings – and then they’d do everything again.

The wind picked up and a shingle fell from a house behind him, clattering to the ground. Rex spun toward it, his sword flying free of its sheath. He stared at the broken shingle, then let out a quiet laugh and sheathed the weapon again.

My nerves are shot. The street isn’t haunted. And, technically, I’m not even on the street. Jessen was really clear about that. Don’t go on the haunted street. It goes against the rules. Blah, blah, blah.

Rex worked his way through the alleys. His job was easy. All he had to do was find a house near the haunted street and head up to the roof to spend a day studying what the idiots squatting on it were doing.

As if a smith and a group of thieves would be doing literally anything of note. I swear he only gave me this job because I was late to a guild meeting. I’ve got half a mind to just head back now and say there wasn’t anything worth watching, but that crazed bastard would probably somehow figure me out.

Rex rubbed the back of his neck as a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn’t sure what it was about this area of the city, but the wind was damn cold. And, even if he wasn’t on the actual haunted street, it didn’t help that the entirety of this area felt completely abandoned.

He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of so much as a mouse in the last few minutes. Rex ground his teeth and pressed onward. He wasn’t far now. The street was just a block down, so any house nearby would be more than suitable for his purposes. He just had to –

Rex’s foot caught on something and he stumbled, taking several steps forward and letting out a slew of curses as his heart jumped in his chest. He spun, drawing his sword, only to find a drunkard slumped against a wall, his legs spewing into the alleyway and a half-full mug resting in an open hand.

“You idiot,” Rex growled. “Watch where you’re passing out.”

The drunkard’s head tilted up to meet Rex’s eyes. His eyes were watery and unfocused, swallowed by the haze of alcohol. The man hiccupped and lifted his mug, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

Rex’s lips curled in distaste. He’d gotten so lost in his own thoughts that he’d somehow missed a man passed out right in front of him.

I need to focus.

“Just screw off,” Rex said, turning and striding toward an alley. He was close enough to the street – he didn’t even give a shit what building he chose anymore. The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

Rex turned the corner and skidded to a stop. The drunkard was leaning against the wall in front of him and drinking from his tankard. The hair on Rex’s neck and arms stood on end.

“What in the Nine Underlands?” Rex asked, taking a step back and pointing his sword at the drunkard. “Who are you? What are you playing at?”

The man lowered the tankard, looking at Rex through furrowed eyebrows. “Me? You’re asking my name?”

“I’m asking what your game is,” Rex snarled. “Take one step toward me and I’ll slice you open.”

The drunkard took another drink from his tankard and let out a belch. “You’re the one that tripped over me, you know. You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

Rex’s grip tightened on his sword. Something was off. “You just stay over there. I swear to any god that’s listening, I’ll run you through if I see you again.”

He took a step back, then slipped out of the alleyway. Rex could practically hear Jessen’s laughter mocking him in the back of his mind. Words echoed through his skull.

What, are you scared of a drunk? What’s he going to do, throw up on you?

Rex gritted his teeth and shoved Jessen’s voice out of his head. He must have been more tired than he’d thought if his guild leader’s voice was haunting him. Jessen didn’t give a shit about how things were done as long as they were accomplished.

I’ll just find another building.

He poked his head into the next alleyway over and was relieved to find that there was no trace of the drunkard. The man had gotten scared off by his warning. Rex couldn’t keep himself from throwing one last glance over his shoulder, but the street behind him was empty as well.

There’s nothing to be scared of.

Letting out a small sigh, Rex turned to step back into the alley – and found himself staring into two burning blue eyes, as deep as the ocean and as cold as ice. A spike of terror slammed into him despite his self-assurances. It drove into his chest with such intensity that his surprised cry came out as nothing more than a strangled squeak. The drunkard stood just inches before him.

There was a faint flash of silver, so fast that Rex barely even managed to pick up on it. Something jerked taut around his throat and dug into his skin. A garotte.

Rex thrust his sword forward to run the man through, but it passed clean through his body as if nothing was there.

Wisps of blue swirled away from the drunkard where the blade had struck him. Rex wheezed, dropping his blade and trying to grab at the thin wire choking the life out of him. He tried to bat the man’s hands away, but his arms passed through his body just as easily as the sword had.

The terror built into a storm in Rex’s stomach. The wire seemed to grow tighter by the instant, but he couldn’t so much as touch the man holding it.

“Ghost,” Rex wheezed, his eyes bulging.

The drunkard’s face was expressionless. His ghastly blue eyes bored into Rex’s as the world darkened around them until only they remained in a sea of endless black.

Rex’s body ached and screamed for air. He desperately fought to draw in a breath, his hands batting the air desperately to no avail.

A chill swallowed him. The blue lights blinked out, leaving only a sea of nothing.

Rex saw no more.