Rise of the Living Forge

[Master Thy Sword] – You have sought mastery over the sword for your entire life, striving to achieve it with such intensity that all other aspects of your life have been left to fester. Here’s a chance to claim that power you so desperately desire. Rewards: Variable depending on level of success.

Milestone 1: When the time comes, restrictions will be placed upon you by the Mesh. Defeat an opponent the Mesh selects to remove the restrictions and advance upon the path of the blade.

If the Challenge put restrictions on her in the middle of the tournament… it would be bad. Very bad.

But that was a problem to deal with later. Worrying about it now would change nothing and decisions made in panic would only cause damage. The day had been a long one, and the entirety of the Menagerie was long overdue a rest.

Arwin only managed to stay awake for just long enough for Lillia to join him in bed before the two of them joined the others in sleep.

When the following morning dawned, everyone gathered in the common room once more. Even in the dim orange light from the lanterns, something about the Devil’s Den felt lighter. A weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders, and it was palpable.

Elias and Maeve were among the last of them to rise, and arrived just as Lillia was handing out breakfast to everyone. She offered some to them, but the two politely declined. Elias didn’t eat anymore for obvious reasons, and it seemed that Maeve’s diet didn’t exactly line up with Lillia’s cooking.

The two members of the Phoenix Circle introduced themselves to the members of the Menagerie that they hadn’t met yet before they set out, promising to return early in the afternoon to hear out Olive’s answer on if she would join them. The other guests that had stayed the night cleared out of the common room as they finished their meals as well.

It wasn’t long before the Menagerie were the only ones within the tavern once again — at least, for a short while. Arwin suspected that would be increasingly frequent. It wouldn’t be long before the common room was never empty. They were going to have to look into building some private meeting rooms the next time they expanded the Devil’s Den.

I think we’re going to become Ridley’s favorite customers pretty soon between our efforts to rebuild the street and improve our existing buildings.

“I’ve… done some thinking,” Olive said once everyone had finished eating. They all turned in her direction. The topic of her Challenge was the one thing everyone had been avoiding through breakfast.

“Whatever you decide is fine with us,” Rodrick said as he wiped his face off with a napkin. He’d gotten a little bit too excited shoveling eggs into his mouth and a fair portion of food had attempted to take up residence on his lips. “Nobody’s going to force you, so don’t do something you don’t want to just because you feel pressured into it.”

“I know,” Olive said. She rubbed her wooden arm. “I thought about it for a while. Last night, I really wanted to say yes immediately. A tournament feels like the perfect way to prove myself. To prove I’m not the same person I was before. But then the Challenge showed up again, and it’s the same one that cost me my arm. The same rules and everything. It could ruin everything.”

“But it’s not the same one,” Arwin said. “Part of that Challenge was unspoken, Olive. You didn’t warn your team about it, but things are different this time. At least — they can be if you want them to.”

Olive nodded, a small smile crossing her features. “I know. And that’s why I want to do this… but if I do, I need to warn Elias and Maeve about the Challenge. I won’t make the same mistake again. They might want someone else. The Challenge could make us lose in the tournament.”

“It could,” Lillia said. “It’s a risk. Possibly not ideal, but I think you’ve made the right call. When people know what they’ve got to work with, they can account for it.”

“Exactly,” Olive said. “Which is why I want to ask them what they want. We’ve got one of their secrets, so I think I can give them one of mine. Then they can decide if they want me on the team or if they’d prefer someone who doesn’t have a Challenge waiting for them. And who knows — maybe I’ll be in a dungeon with you all when it activates.”

“Maybe,” Anna said. She stood up and made her way over to Olive to put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “But it won’t happen the same way it did last time. We’ve got your back.”

“I know.” Olive smiled. “And I’m not going to fail the Challenge this time around. The Mesh is giving me another shot, and I’m going to take it.”

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Imps emerged from the kitchen to gather up everyone’s plates. There were definitely more of them than Arwin recalled there being. He was pretty sure he counted at least five, though it was a bit hard to tell. They were all wearing the same frilly black and white maid dresses.

Rodrick and Anna headed out shortly afterwards. Even though Twelve had been dealt with, there was still a lot more to be done — especially with regard to the Ardent Guild. If they were going to complete their promises to the Dawnseekers, they had to begin making some moves.

And, as if the mere thought of the matter had summoned it, Raen stepped through the door of the Devil’s Den no more than a few minutes after Rodrick had left.

The Guildmaster’s expression was unreadable as he strode into the room, his hands crossed behind his back. He made his way over to Arwin, who stood at the counter, and stood in silence across from him for nearly a second before speaking.

“Ifrit,” Raen said in a flat tone.

“Raen,” Arwin replied, inclining his head. “I was waiting for you to make your way back.”

“I find myself having difficulty determining what to think of you,” Raen said. He studied Arwin through narrowed eyes. “You confuse me.”

“Do I?” Arwin asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why is that?”

“Would it be a surprise to you that I recently heard news of Twelve’s death?” Raen asked. “All twelve of his clones. Dead, at the hands of some mysterious assassin. Assassin guilds everywhere are claiming credit for the death. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”

Arwin fought to keep a grin from crossing his features. “I’m afraid not. That’s news to me. We were rather occupied yesterday.”

“So I had heard,” Raen drawled. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “A crafting guild defeating a demon. Quite the feat. They are not simple opponents. I would congratulate you, but unfortunately, I have come for other matters. We had a deal, Ifrit.”

“Had?” Arwin arched an eyebrow. “I was unaware that anything had changed.”

Raen blew out a breath and shook his head. He gestured around at the common room, occupied only by the remaining members of the Menagerie. “Come now. The only people here are your own guild, Ifrit. How is it you plan to complete your end of the deal when Twelve is gone?”

“We have alternative ways to fulfill our end of the agreement, and half of it is already done.”

Raen blinked and the wind left his sails. For an instant, something flashed through his trained eyes.

Hope.

Then it was gone, and his features were unreadable once more.

“The item?”

“Yes. Perhaps the rest of this conversation would be better conducted in my smithy,” Arwin suggested, starting for the door without waiting for a response. “There will need to be some final adjustments to ensure it works, but I have it prepared.”

Raen followed after him without another word. They headed into the Infernal Armory and Arwin pulled the bracelet out after he’d closed the door behind them.

“Is that it?” Raen asked. A tiny flicker of eagerness broke through his tone and his hands twitched. “It works as you said it would?”

Someone’s impatient. Why is this so important to him?

“It will,” Arwin replied. “A complete change of appearance… but I need to know what it is I’m changing. Until I do, I can’t finish the item.”

The eagerness fell away from Raen’s expression. “Can’t you just make it turn someone… plain? Remove any extra features that make them stand out?”

“Not unless I know what the features are. This isn’t for argument,” Arwin said. “I don’t know what you’re trying to hide, Raen, but I’m not trying to play games here. We aren’t backing out of our deal — either part of it. We have connections to the Montibeau family that we will be using to get you a foothold in the city. That’ll save you a huge amount of money that you would have spent Twelve’s reward on. We’ll pay you the rest of the gold ourselves… but if you want this item, then you need to give me what I need.”

Raen’s eyes widened. “Wait. What? You have—”

“The item,” Arwin ground out. “As I said. We’re not backing out. But I don’t have all day, Raen. You knew what I would need. Either work with me or don’t.”

Raen hesitated for several long seconds. Then his jaw clenched. “Is there truly no other way?”

“None.”

“You must agree not to say a word of what you see,” Raen said. “Swear yourself to secrecy.”

What kind of disfigurement is so bad that he needs me to swear that I’ll never reveal it? That seems a bit extreme.

“If I went around blabbering about what my customers bought from me, I’d never have customers,” Arwin said. “I swear to keep your information confidential.”

“No matter what you see?”

“You could be the Demon Queen herself and the only thing I would ask is if you wanted freckles or not.”

The corner of Raen’s lips quirked up. “Very well. I will hold you to this secrecy, then. Allow me a moment. The person is nearby.”

It’s not for Raen?

Arwin blinked, then nodded.

Raen headed out of the smithy at a brisk pace. Several seconds passed. It had nearly stretched to a minute by the time the door swung open again and Raen returned with a cloaked figure at his side.

The figure loomed nearly a head taller than Raen. Even beneath the loose robes and the thick gloves that covered their hands, Arwin could make out bulging muscles. Whoever this was, they were no stranger to combat.

Maybe they’ve got an embarassing battle wound they need me to cover?

“Here is the one I need you to help,” Raen said, reaching up to put a hand on the figure’s shoulder. “Please remain calm. I can assure you, there is nothing to fear.”

“Fear?” Arwin asked, blinking. “Why would I be scared?”

“Go on. It’s okay,” Raen said, his tone softening. “We have no choice.”

The figure hesitated for a long second. Then they reached up and pulled their hood back. Thick, woven hair hung behind their head. A mask covered the bottom half of their face, but the top was exposed — and their skin was a dull green.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Hesitantly, the figure reached up to their face and pulled down their mask to reveal a mouth with two small fangs jutting up from her mouth.

She was an orc. Her lips parted in what was likely meant to be a smile but looked far closer to a snarl.

“This is Monica,” Raen said, raising his hands to forestall any reaction from Arwin. “My wife.”

And, at the sight of the orc, there was only a single thought that passed through Arwin’s head.

Is every other person in this town a monster?