Rise of the Living Forge

Chapter 55: Iron Hound

When Arwin got out of bed the following morning and stepped into the common room after pulling on his mask, he found he wasn’t the first. In fact, it seemed like he might have been the last.

Rodrick, Anna, and Reya all sat at the counter across from Lillia, who was busy trying to fix up the weathered wine rack with Zeke’s help. Even though the shadows in the inn were just as dark as they always seemed to be, it felt brighter than normal.

“Were you hibernating or something?” Rodrick asked with a chuckle as he saw Arwin. “Also, what’s with the… well, ugly thing?”

“My mask is not ugly,” Arwin said curtly. “It’s intimidating.”

“It’s ugly,” Rodrick said.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. It’s to protect my identity. I’m well aware it’s far from the most effective way to handle things, but even a small layer of defense is better than nothing.”

“I think you just like wearing ugly masks.”

“Oh, stop it,” Anna said, shoulder-checking Rodrick and nearly knocking him out of his chair. He grabbed onto the counter to balance himself, chuckling.

“No rough housing,” Lillia said, glancing over her shoulder at them. “Not unless you plan to replace my barstools. In that case, feel free. They’re kind of rickety. I’m honestly hoping someone breaks one so I don’t have to pay for an upgrade. Victor’s Blood.” Everyone sent confused glances at Lillia and she blinked. “What?”

“What’s Victor’s Blood mean?” Rodrick asked. “I’ve never heard of that saying.”

“Oh.” Lillia’s cheeks reddened and she rubbed the back of her neck. “It means whoever wins the fight has to pay up for the damage done by it. It’s a deterrent to keep people from getting into shit because nobody wants to lose, but nobody wants to foot the bill.”

Demon culture is pretty interesting. That’s actually a really clever way to keep people from fighting too much. It’s a lose-lose situation.

Anna and Rodrick hurriedly straightened back up, taking on the posture of model adventurers and returning to their meals.

From what Arwin could tell, everyone seemed to be getting on pretty well with each other. Zeke clearly knew his way around a toolset, and Arwin couldn’t help but notice some of the tools he’d bought to fix up his smithy were in the boy’s hands.

He didn’t bother saying anything. Zeke was using them to fix up the tavern, and the kid seemed to have his head screwed on right. If he’d wanted to steal, he could have done that in the night.

Guess the guild has another member. Faster than I expected, but I can’t complain. We need someone to hold the fort down while we go to the dungeon. And, judging by the presence we’ve got around today, I think that’s looking pretty likely.

“Is today good, then?” Anna asked Reya.

“I think it should be.” Reya sent a look at Arwin. “Is it?”

“Good? For what?”

“Heading to the dungeon.”

“Oh,” Arwin said, shaking his head and laughing. “Yes. I was just thinking about that, actually. I’m prepared, so long as the rest of you are.”

Zeke sent Arwin a surprised look. “You go into the dungeon? You’re a smith!”

“I don’t do any fighting,” Arwin said as he raised his hands, showing his lack of a weapon. “I just travel along and pick up the supplies that look useful. I bought a bag yesterday for that exact reason, actually. Stuffing my pockets got a bit old.”

“Oh, yeah. Tell me about it. You can barely fit half a loaf of bread in,” Zeke said with a knowing nod.

“You can fit half a loaf into your pockets?” Reya exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “I can barely get a pouch of coins in mine!”

“That’s because you’re wearing skinny women’s pants. You gotta get the good stuff, not the pretty stuff.”

“I didn’t realize there was a difference. I stole these,” Reya said, looking down at her pants with a frown. “Where’d you get yours?”

“Oh, I stole them too.”

They both snickered, and Arwin was struck with the realization that bringing two thieves together might not have been the best idea if he wanted to keep his guild strictly above the board. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

“No more stealing, please,” Arwin said. “I’d prefer to avoid any trouble with the authorities.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “As if I’d get caught.”

“And as if they care,” Reya added. “It’s all just a front, you know. They pretend to care, but Milten is one of the crime-ridden cities in the kingdom. Even if you do get caught doing something, as long as you bribe them, it’s fine.”

“Even so, I’d prefer to keep our activities legal,” Arwin said firmly. “At least, whenever possible.”

“Aren’t you technically squatting?” Reya asked.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Arwin opened his mouth, then closed it and crossed his arms. “You may have a point, but it is a point that I am going to choose to ignore because I don’t have a good argument for it. If we can’t keep all our activities legal, what if we do our best to minimize the illegal ones?”

“Buddy, I think you’re losing the argument,” Rodrick put in.

“You’re on my side if you want more armor.”

“No doing illegal shit, kids,” Rodrick said.

Anna smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t curse in front of children.”

“I’m not a kid!” Zeke protested. “I know a whole bunch of curse words, like–”

“We don’t need a demonstration. I believe you,” Anna said curtly, cutting Zeke off while he was mid-breath, likely preparing to launch into a long list that he’d been waiting to share for who knew how long. “But Rodrick certainly isn’t going to be encouraging you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yup. I’d never do something like that. What’s the kid going to be doing, Ar–” Rodrick caught himself as Anna pierced him with a sharp look. He cut himself off before continuing, “doing with us? Surely not dungeons.”

“He’s not ready for that,” Arwin said. “Zeke will be helping me with some smithing activities as well as with the repairs for the smithy and the inn.”

“Seems useful,” Rodrick said. He finished the rest of his plate and slid out of his chair, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “In that case, should we get moving? No point letting good hours slip away, and I want to test out some moves.”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll just check up on the smithy before I leave,” Arwin said. “You made sure to lock it, right, Zeke?”

Zeke glanced at the tools in his hands and his cheeks reddened. “Yeah, I did. All locked up.”

“Good enough for me. I’ll just see if there’s anything that strikes me while I’m there. I haven’t had a chance to make a helmet yet – I do want to get around to that, but it can wait for after we’ve gotten back. I just need to grab my bag and I’ll be good to go.”

The others nodded and Arwin headed out, crossing the street and making for his smithy. He paused at the door, taking a moment to appreciate his newly built walls, all devoid of cracks and damage.

Sure, the building still looked old, but it was in one piece. The next step would be to get some furniture and really spice the place up, but that could come after he’d forged enough to really fill the shop out and draw customers.

Arwin unlocked the door and headed inside. Zeke had barely disturbed the locations of anything he had, so it only took him a second to find the old tarp bag he’d purchased along with all the repair supplies.

He slung the bag over a shoulder and did one last check over the smithy to make sure nothing was out of place before heading back outside. He went to lock the door behind him, but paused as the key entered the lock.

A middle-aged woman was standing across the street, leaning against the wall of a crumbling building. It took Arwin a moment to realize he recognized her dark hair and blue eyes. It was Tix, the adventurer who had purchased some of his work from him at the tavern.

“Can I help you?” Arwin asked, locking the door and pocketing the key. He didn’t even have to work on deepening his voice – the mask muffled his words enough that they already sounded quite different.

“I believe you can,” Tix said, walking over to stand before him. “I’ve been looking for you. You’re Ifrit, right?”

“I’d hope there aren’t other people running around with my design on their masks,” Arwin said dryly. “Yes. I’m Ifrit.”

“Great. You have no idea how damn hard I’ve been looking around to find you,” Tix said, holding a hand out to shake. “My name is Tix. I’m with the Iron Hounds.”

Arwin took it. “Pleasure. What is it that you need me for? I didn’t realize I was worth drawing that much attention.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t downplay the value of the work you put out. I’ve heard of people working with scales for armor, but not in the way you have. My people got their hands on some of the gear you put out yesterday, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

It really isn’t all that special. I know I’ve seen similar before when I was the Hero… which either means this place is much farther out in the boonies than I thought, or Tix is trying to butter me up for something.

“You overpraise me,” Arwin said. “And you still haven’t said what you want.”

“Not one for small talk, are you?” Tix laughed and shrugged. “Fine with me. Neither am I. Look – the Iron Hounds need someone like you. We’ve been working our way up the guild ranks, and we’re starting to get access to some pretty big jobs, but it’s really hard getting everyone outfitted. I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir here, but you have to know how hard it can be to outfit a raid group. Getting good quality armor that isn’t magical is like ripping nails out.”

“Why not just get magical armor?”

Tix burst into laughter and slapped Arwin on the shoulder. “Jokester, are you? I said that we were up and coming, not filthy rich. We can’t afford magic armor for everyone but the top of the guild. Buying enchantments and gathering the materials… we aren’t anywhere near the point of that for anyone but our main group. That doesn’t mean we want everyone else getting cut down left and right, though.”

“Sure,” Arwin allowed with a shrug. “That makes sense. But I’m not sure what your question for me is. You’re welcome to buy my work whenever it goes up for sale.”

“That would be great, but we need a lot more than that. Our guild has fifty members,” Tix said. “Do you have any idea how long it would take to get individual sets from you that fit all of them?”

“You’re asking for custom commissions?”

Tix waggled a hand in the air. “That would be nice, but then you’d still be able to make gear for other guilds.”

Arwin blinked in confusion. “Why would that matter?”

“Because they’re our competitors,” Tix said, the smile fading from her lips as her eyes darkened. “And they’re the ones we’re fighting. If you make us armor, and then you make them armor, it’s no different than where things were before, isn’t it?”

“I see your issue,” Arwin said, grateful for his mask once more as it concealed the disgust on his features.

Why the hell are you fighting other guilds? That’s not what guilds are meant to do.

“Fantastic,” Tix said. “Then you can imagine why I came here. We’d like to offer you a position among the Iron Hounds. You’d be well paid, and we’d provide all the material you could ever–”

“I refuse.”

Tix blinked. “What?”

“I have no interest in joining a guild,” Arwin said. “Not yours, and not someone else’s. I’m sorry you came out here for nothing.”

“You’d better put more thought into this,” Tix warned. “You aren’t going to get another offer, and if you aren’t with us, you’re against us.”

“That sort of attitude is going to cause you a lot of problems,” Arwin said, unable to contain his distaste any longer. “I am a smith. If you wish to purchase gear from me, you may join the line whenever I arrive at market. Just like all the other guilds.”

“Final answer?” Tix asked.

“Ah. By asking again, you have changed my mind.”

“I did?” Tix asked, her face brightening. “Great. I–”

“I lied,” Arwin said flatly. “I appreciate your invitation, but I am unable to accept it. If it makes you feel any better, any other guilds that bring me the same offer will receive the same answer. It won’t impact the Iron Hounds.”

Tix’s jaw clenched. For a second, Arwin thought she’d start insulting him. But, instead, she just shrugged and turned, heading down the alleyway she’d come from.

“Suit yourself. Have a good day, Ifrit.”

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