Rise of the Living Forge - Chapters 584-585

“Black, of course. The armor absolutely has to be black.,” the Infernal Armory said, crossing its arms behind its back and pacing across the room in front of Arwin. Or, at least, it was trying to pace. The motion couldn’t be quite called pacing when its legs just melded with the ground. Really, it would have been more accurate to say it was sliding around with intention — but Arwin digressed.

“Her current armor is silver,” Arwin pointed out. “She likes it just fine. She’s already got a bunch of dark-adjacent magic and other shadow powers. Wouldn’t something that contrasts with that fit better?”

The Armory’s faceted head turned to pierce him with a ruby stare. It didn’t say anything for a second. Then it started to pace again.

“As I was saying,” the Armory continued. “Black. Nothing else is suitable for the former Queen of Demons. Not to mention it would blend in with her magic to let her be harder to spot during fights. She’s not a front liner. Something that lets her avoid notice would be best.”

Arwin pursed his lips. “I suppose that’s true, but I’m not sure if she wants to keep looking like the Demon Queen any more than I want to resemble the Hero.”

The Armory paused at that. Then its head tilted to the side. “That is a fair argument. I do not wanter to dislike our armor. That would make me displeased. But silver is so… tripe. Boring. This must be something far greater than that.”

“We could always ask her,” Arwin offered. “Can’t you speak to the Devil’s Den? Have it see if Lillia is busy and find out what color armor she’d like.”

“But that will ruin the surprise,” the Armory said. Its face fell slightly. “The reveal will be gone. How can a truly great piece of armor be properly delivered if the recipient already knows it is coming? The impact will be gone.”

What are you, a gossipy noble? Has the Armory always loved drama this much?

“If we make a good enough piece of equipment, then it’ll be more than enough of a surprise even if Lillia knows it’s coming,” Arwin pointed out. “It’s not like we’re making some plain piece of equipment here. This is something that needs to be at the level of the Gehenna armor. Anything that powerful isn’t going to just blow over like a light wind no matter how it gets presented.”

The Armory started to nod. “Yes. That is true. Very true. And she would need to be involved at some stage anyways to ensure that the equipment is properly bonded to her. Perhaps we should simply bring her in now. It would speed our work up immensely if she was here to participate in the creation of her own gear, and she has already had experience in the smithy. And she will confirm that black is obviously the more suitable color.”

“That’s definitely a good idea, but I think you’ll find that she doesn’t want something black. That’s too on the nose. She’s definitely going to want armor that lets her be herself,” Arwin said. “But we’ll find out so long as she has time to actually come over. She might be working on something right now. If she is, we’ll just have to wait until she’s done.”

“Wait?” The Armory’s eyes narrowed. “I do not want to wait. I want to make armor. What is the use of waiting when I am prepared to act as we speak? If she is not prepared, then we will make armor for someone else. Or I will make a bath for Uriel. She has been complaining about not having one.”

“Just ask,” Arwin said with a laugh. “We can worry about what to do if Lillia is busy if the situation occurs. Something tells me she’ll make time for this.”

***

Arwin was unsurprised to find that Lillia was, in fact, more than willing to make time in her busy schedule if it meant getting an upgraded version of her armor. She arrived at the front door no more than a few minutes after the Armory reached out to the Devil’s Den.

He had no idea how she’d managed to make it past the crowds of teeming people that were probably all trying to figure out what in the world had just happened to the smithy, but he didn’t get much of a chance to ask. The moment the Armory’s door closed behind Lillia, she darted over to the back room with a small leather sack slung over her back shoulder.

“The Den said that you’re going to make me a Soul set. Is that true?” Lillia asked, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Do you really have the time? I know how hard those are to make. And — oh, Godspit. What happened in here? And is that the Armory? It has a body now?”

“Hello,” the Armory said, raising an obsidian hand and waggling its fingers. The dark obsidian shimmered in the dim red light, sending faint shimmers dancing across the glossy room. “It is not a true body. Arwin must still find a way to arrange for that. But this will do for the time being.”

“I fed it the Dungeon Heart we got from the auction,” Arwin explained. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “The Armory has been instrumental in just about everything I’ve made. I figured it was about time to upgrade it a bit more. It’s looking like that was a good investment.”

“No telling,” Lillia muttered, walking around the Armory’s new form. Then she shook her head and let out a slow whistle. “It’s beautiful. The whole room is. Kind of intimidating, though. It feels like I’ve walked into some ancient monster’s lair.”

“Just wait until you see what I am capable of in a short while,” the Armory said. Its lips pulled into a hungry smile. “Now that I can craft on my own, the opportunities already unfold before me. I no longer need Arwin’s hammer to create. I can craft as I will.”

That… is that concerning?

Nah. I’m sure it’s fine.

“Really not helping with the whole villain motif,” Lillia said with a dry smile. Then her eyes flicked back to Arwin. “I can see why you’re looking to test the Armory’s new abilities out. So you really do have time to make me new armor?”

“It’s not just me,” Arwin said. He nodded to Lillia. “You’re getting pressed into work as well. We’ve got great synergy because of the Title I got before Sunsetting, and you’ve worked in the smithy before. The Armory and I are pretty sure that the way to maximize your armor would be if you worked with us on the entire thing. So the real question is… do you have time?”

Lillia let out a snort of laughter. “Do I have time? Arwin, my kitchen literally runs itself. If all I need to do is step aside for a while to lend you my power and help make myself an incredible set of armor, then damn right I’m doing it. How long will it take?”

“A day. It is unlikely to be much longer,” the Armory replied. “Provided you have sufficient magical energy and brought food for us. Particularly for me. Arwin eating is optional.”

“Of course I brought food,” Lillia said, opening the leather sack and pulling out two sandwiches. “One for each of you. I figured the extra magic would be helpful either way.”

The Armory extended a hand toward Lillia. Black tendrils rose up from the ground, winding around one of the sandwiches and pulling it over to its body. There was a cracking noise as its mouth yawned open. Molten ruby light poured out from within it as it shoved the entire thing into its mouth. Without so much as a single chew, the Armory swallowed the sandwich whole.

“Delicious,” the Armory said. It flexed its fingers. “Bring more next time. But this will be sufficient for a single set.”

“That was somehow odder than feeding you the old way,” Lillia said. She walked over to Arwin and handed him the second sandwich. “So how do we start? Is there a draft or something already?”

“I think we can base the general style and structure on the Flowing Water set you already have,” Arwin said. “But we can improve all the spots where it’s lacking and actually make it tailored to you. So the first thing to do would be figuring out what kind of armor you actually want. Any thoughts?”

“Something sleek,” Lillia said immediately. “I love how easy it is to move around in the Flowing Water armor, and it’s not bulky at all. I can toss a cloak on and nobody can even tell what I’m wearing. It’s very useful.”

“All simple. The important question is what powers you seek,” the Armory said. “We have a host of materials powerful enough to create nearly any manner of item. You must determine what powers you desire. And remember. The purpose of this armor is to be the last one you ever wear. Do not choose lightly. ”

“That’s… ominous,” Lillia said. She glanced at Arwin.

“It’s just dramatic,” Arwin said with a roll of his eyes. “And too egotistical to admit we might be able to make something better in the future. Don’t worry about it. But the Armory is right about thinking about the powers you want. This will be your equipment for the foreseeable future, so I want to get it right. Is there anything we could add that you feel would really benefit you?”

Lillia didn’t respond immediately. She thought in silence for a few minutes before saying anything else.

“Defense,” Lillia said. “That’s the most important thing to me. My class is very grounded, for lack of a better word. All my abilities are about controlling people or melding shadows. I don’t have much in the way to actually defend myself   if someone manages to get to me. Mobility would be good too, but the ability to withstand a serious blow is probably what I lack the most right now.”

“Simple,” the Armory said. “We can do that without even needing this to be a Soul Item. But that gives a good direction. We can work with that. That narrows the materials we can work with down a fair bit. Something light and flexible to maintain the full range of mobility that the Flowing Water armor grants you. We can focus on adding the resistance magically.”

“We could work your shadow magic into the armor,” Arwin offered. He thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. “If people can’t see you, then they can’t hit you. You can already kind of blend in with the darkness, so we could take that to the next level.”

“Improved shadow control?” Lillia tilted her head to the side. “That would be very useful if it’s actually possible.”

“It is more than possible,” the Armory said. It tapped two fingers together as it thought. “Yes. Simple. I can think of some further applications, but your song will shape them more than my thoughts. I believe we have some materials that are more than suitable for this task. But… before we can go further, we must find the answer to this project’s most integral question.”

“What’s that?” Lillia asked.

“What color do you want the armor to be?” The Armory asked.

Lillia blinked. She started to smile, then stopped herself as she realized the Armory was dead serious.

It wasn’t messing around at all about making sure this armor was perfect for her. Down to even the smallest details, the Armory didn’t plan to let a single thing past it.

Well, that or it just really wants to win the argument against me.

It was probably some mixture of the two.

“Color?” Lillia asked. She pursed her lips for a moment. “If it’s purely from a preference perspective… maybe a mixture of black and silver? Something sleek but intimidating?”

Arwin and the Armory exchanged a glance.

I think that counts as a tie.

Then they grinned as one.

“I think we can do that,” Arwin said.

Chapter 585

Ida stared into the depths of her mug as the dull roar of magically muted conversation echoed all around her. The darkness of the Devil’s Den made it easy to feel like one was entirely alone even if there was someone just a table away. Even though a dozen people around her were all speaking, she couldn’t make out what a single one of them was saying.

And there was something nice in that. The solitude. It was peaceful. All the people around her and yet not a single one paying her any mind. It was just her and the drink. She couldn’t even make out her own reflection within it. Froth did tend to be less than ideal for the purposes of reflections.

Ida blew out a slow sigh. Her nerves were still shot. Somehow, by some miracle, the auction had worked. And maybe that was an understatement. It had done far more than just work. The Menagerie had actually pulled it off without so much as a single apparent misstep.

It wasn’t even just about the sheer amount of wealth they’d earned. Ida barely even registered that. She’d been around her mother for far too much of her life. Wealth and materials meant little. But the Menagerie had dealt with the Dwarven Council — and they’d won.

Sure, the Council felt like everything had gone great. Indrana had filled her in on everything. They were whistling to themselves, patting each other on the back on a perfectly executed deal. A whole bunch of new legendary weapons for their smiths to study at the cost of some rare materials. Materials that were relatively cheap to them when compared to powerful items.

But they weren’t here. They didn’t see what the Menagerie have been able to make with far, far less than what they just earned. That golem guarding Ifrit’s smithy… could he make a stronger version of it, now? An entire troop of them? A battalion?

Her lips twitched as she raised the cup up and took a long drink. It hardly mattered. Her allegiance to the Dwarven Council had long since worn away. It had been nothing but the threads that her mother dangled her by up until recently. Now, there was nothing left in Ida that could even resemble loyalty to the council at all.

It was funny. She’d somehow gotten just about everything she’d wanted with nearly no effort on her own part. Her mother’s own schemes had strangled her. Now Indrana was nothing more than the Menagerie’s pawn and Ida had more freedom than she ever did before.

All the Menagerie expected of her was to keep tabs on her mother.

And that was it.

Ida didn’t even mind the task. Giving her mother a taste of what it felt like to be someone else’s pawn felt… poetic. But it wasn’t exactly what she would have considered fulfilling. There was no worth at all with anything that related to the council. It was old and rotted. A group of sour, angry old relics that hoarded wealth that they would never spend.

She blew out a slow sigh and stared at the bottom of her now empty cup. The Menagerie had been surprisingly good to her. Perhaps too good. For all of the newfound freedom that Ida now possessed, she didn’t have the faintest damn idea as to what to do with it.

Do I just sit around, rake in the coin from keeping tabs on Indrana, and wait for something to happen? It’s not like I can wander off. They still need me to report in on Indrana, and I can’t do that if I’m not in Milten anymore. And I can’t say I hate Milten.

The food is great. Drink is too. And it’s quiet. The council has no power here. They don’t care to, I guess. No signs of the Adventurer’s Guild either… though I’m sure the Auction will change that. The town is definitely getting more busy.

But Godspit, what do I do?

She hadn’t touched a smithy in weeks. The desire to make much at all had drained out of her. That wasn’t even to mention how laughable it would have been to ask Ifrit if she could use his smithy. But even if she’d wanted to… Ida couldn’t quite bring herself to garner up the motivation.

The idea of making another weapon or piece of armor just made her feel tired. After all the time she’d spent wanting to get out from under her mother’s thumb and get the opportunity to make anything she wanted to, Ida now couldn’t be bothered to try making anything at all.

Maybe she was right. I’m a poor excuse for a smith.

“You’re not going to find many answers at the bottom of that mug.” A weathered voice came from behind Ida. “I’d know. I’ve spent enough time looking myself.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Her heart nearly leapt up into her throat.

Standing behind her was Koyu.

The man’s brilliant ice-blue eyes managed to stick out even in the shadow of the Devil’s Den, framed by the scruffy, long white hair that hung around his face. If not for his eyes, he might have just looked like an old man. Unfortunately, Ida knew far better. It was tough to forget that he’d frozen someone into a solid block of ice with nothing more than his presence just a short while ago.

“I have nothing new to report right now,” Ida said stiffly. “As far as I can tell, everything is going—”

“I’m not here for business,” Koyu said with a huffing laugh. He extended his hand, taking a mug from a scurrying shadow imp, then lowered himself into the seat across from Ida without invitation. The old man looked down into his mug. Then his lips thinned. He pushed the mug over to Ida. “I was just stopping by for a short while. It got too loud outside, and now the smith is flirting. I wasn’t going to sit around for that.”

The corner of Ida’s lips twitched in amusement. “So what can I do for you?”

“You?” Koyu nudged the beer closer to her. “You can do what you’re meant to do with a drink. Drink the damn thing. Lillia doesn’t like when people waste food.”

Ida didn’t see any reason to argue with that. She took a drink from the mug. It was, unsurprisingly, quite good.

“So you’re just here to talk?”

“No,” Koyu said. His gaze drifted across the room.“I am here to avoid being somewhere else. You just happened to be at a table without anyone else sitting at it, and someone else has taken up my spot standing ominously in the shadows.”

Ida followed the old man’s line of sight to find Thane standing in the corner of the room, his arms crossed in front of his chest and back rested against the wall. It looked like he was trying to pretend not to pay attention to the room, but the darting of his eyes made it abundantly clear that he was looking for something.

“He’s not very good at being sneaky.”

“Did you notice him before I pointed him out?”

“I wasn’t looking,” Ida said.

“Most aren’t,” Koyu replied. “But yes. He is not very good at being sneaky. He does try, though. I imagine he’ll get there one day or another.”

“Maybe,” Ida said. She took another drink from her mug. Then she paused. “Do I have to pay for this?”

Koyu smiled. “No. I will cover it. Handing someone a drink and making them pay would just be cruel.”

“Thanks,” Ida said. She tipped the mug back, draining the rest of the beer within it in a single gulp before setting it back down on the table and letting out a long breath. “Well. That was good.”

“No answers this time around either?” Koyu asked.

“What?” Ida’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You were looking pretty intently in that last mug,” Koyu said. “But you didn’t bother with this one.”

“Well, you were the one that said there weren’t any answers there.” Ida snorted. “I’m not one to ignore advice.”

“That’s good,” Koyu said. “I’m going to ask you a question, then.”

It didn’t sound like Koyu was requesting permission.

“Feel free. You did just buy me a drink.”

“Why are you just sitting around here?” Koyu asked. “The auction is done. We still need to keep tabs on your mother, but that hardly means you have to idle around the tavern drinking the day away. And you don’t strike me as the type to be traumatized by death. I don’t imagine your close call had anything to do with this.”

“I’m just drinking,” Ida said. “That’s all. Nothing more to it. I’m a dwarf, you know.”

“You may be a dwarf, but just drinking is exactly what I am questioning,” Koyu said. “I am not unaware of your situation. Your shackles are lifted. So why do you remain in the cage, holding the bars there with your own hands?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Ida said with a small huff. “What are you suggesting? That I go back to smithing because I so proudly announced my status as a Dwarven Master Smith shortly before Ifrit literally ate my item?”

“Yes,” Koyu said. “That might be it.”

“Why would I?” Ida shook her head. “I don’t want to make more weapons and armor. I’m done with it. And does the Menagerie really need a second, sub-par smith to support them?”

“Most certainly not,” Koyu said. “And you wouldn’t even be our third smith, much less the second.”

Ida snorted. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Did I give the wrong impression?” Koyu asked, his head tilting askew. “I am not here to comfort you. I simply dislike when people waste their potential. Not everyone has the freedom of choice.”

“I’m not exactly—”

“Every choice that you can make is more than those who have no choice at all,” Koyu said. “But you are right. The Menagerie has no use for a second rate smith. Your equipment is not inspiring. It wouldn’t be worth giving you the time in the Infernal Armory. I have seen a great deal of weaponsmiths in my time. I have seen the weapons and armor they have made. Yours do not compare.”

The sudden attack was so out of nowhere that Ida nearly choked on her own saliva as something between a laugh and a cough slipped out of her.

“Appreciate it. You aren’t saying anything I didn’t know, though.”

“Good,” Koyu said. He rose to his feet. “But if you know that, then why are you sitting here? You clearly have no talent for warsmithing at all.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Ida asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m asking — why are you sitting around and pouting about not wanting to make armor and weapons? Do you see a mage complaining that they cannot swing a sword?” Koyu’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Who ever said that a smith had to make such things?”

Ida opened her mouth. Then she slowly closed it.

“What?”

Koyu’s brilliant gaze into her for a second longer. Then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but two fading motes of pale blue light in the air where his eyes had been. Ida stared at the air where he’d been a moment before. Then her own brow furrowed.

Make something other than weapons and armor?

Huh.

I never thought about that, actually. I wonder…

She sat there for a second longer. One of Lillia’s imps paused by her table as she accidentally caught its gaze. The magical shadow tilted its head to the side in wait for an order.

Ida shook her head. She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.

“I think I’m good,” Ida said. “Thanks.”

I wonder if there’s a spare anvil lying around somewhere.

Then she stepped around the table and headed for the tavern door.