Chapter 61: Good week

Chapter 61: Good week

Tix pulled a seat out across the table from a balding man, sitting down and letting out an exasperated sigh. The rest of the tavern around them was a dull roar of hushed conversations that mixed into a soup that made it impossible to make out anything farther than a few feet away from her ears.

“He refused, Erik. Told me to kick rocks,” Tix said.

“You’re kidding. Did he cut you off before you could say anything?” the bald man asked, pausing to take a sip of ale from his wooden mug. Tix’s throat was parched. She would have ordered something for herself if the tavern had anything other than swill.

“Yeah, he heard it. Said we could wait in line like everyone else.”

“Cocky bastard,” Erik said. “That was a deal to die for. Most smiths would jump at it.”

“Well, not this one.” Tix grimaced at the rough wood digging into her back and shifted, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable on the poorly made chair. “And I don’t think knocking on his door again is going to change anything.”

“That’s fine. He didn’t follow you here, did he?” Erik asked. He wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his head and Tix grimaced again. The room wasn’t even hot. Erik might have been the most terrified man she’d ever met. But, for some reason, Jessen had chosen him as second in command of the Iron Hounds.

It makes no sense. This idiot’s paranoia isn’t even effective. He just jumps at every shadow and thinks everyone’s out to kill him. Nobody even knows what your ugly bald face looks like, moron.

“What do you think he is, Erik?” Tix asked, trying to keep her features patient. Stupid or not, Erik was still the second in command of the guild. And, as bad as he was at tactics, he was a filthy good mage. “He’s a smith, not an adventurer. He might make good armor, but he’s not going to start playing detective and track me down after a rejected offer.”

“That’s true. That’s true,” Erik said, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. He nodded along with his words, then licked his lips. After draining the rest of his drink, Erik spoke again. “No matter. There are other smiths. He would have been useful, but we can find someone else.”

That’s... surprisingly reasonable of you. Maybe Jessen finally gave you the talk I’ve been begging him to do.

“How are things going with the Wyrm?” Tix asked, lowering her voice even in spite of the noise in the tavern. Nobody was close to their table and she highly doubted anything would get overheard, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Erik’s features darkened. He peered into his finished mug, then set it on the table and sighed. “Not good. Someone has been trying to screw with us.”Upstodatee from n(0)/ve/lbIn/.(co/m

Sure they are. Just like someone was poisoning your food last week. That definitely wasn’t because you eat like a pig and forgot to wash your hands after taking a shit.

“How so?” Tix asked. “What’s happening?”

“Jessen’s Wyrm is acting off. It’s barely listening to his orders and has basically been laying around in the forest doing nothing for the past few days. It even snipped at him when he went to try and figure out what’s going on.”

“Maybe it’s having a tantrum. Have you fed it well?”

Erik’s glare bored into Tix’s skull. “It’s in a damn forest full of food. Of course it’s fed. I think it’s been poisoned.”

I’m sure you do.

“Why would anyone bother poisoning a Wyrm?”

“I don’t know,” Erik said with a shrug. He narrowed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder – as if Tix wouldn’t have noticed someone standing right behind him – before leaning in and lowering his voice. “But what if they figured it out?”

Arwin hummed to himself as he worked, the clang of his hammer and the roar of the flame filling the air around him. He’d already worked the gemstones deep into the pauldrons, working the metal up and around them to only leave their tips exposed.

The result was a set of ridges that ended in spikes jutting out from the end of the pauldrons, their blackened tips actually heat-treated crystals. Arwin had worked some of the crystal into the chest and back as well.

He’d quenched every piece of armor as he’d made it and was now onto the last part – the front of the chest piece. He could feel everything coming together, but it still wasn’t quite there. Even as he smoothed out the metal and coaxed it to its finished state, there was one final piece missing. Fortunately, he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

The purple crystal that he’d taken from the Orc Shaman had been whispering at the back of his mind, waiting for its time. And now that he’d finished just about every other piece of the chest plate and could hear the Mesh tingling at his fingertips, he was ready for it.

Arwin didn’t know the proper way to slot a gem into armor. He was pretty sure there was a more elegant way to do it than sticking the entire piece into the flame and using [Scourge] to shove the stone in and push metal over its top, but that was the only way he knew – and so that was what he did.

He smoothed the rough edges of the metal around the gem out, then shifted it slightly to the side to make sure it was centered right in the middle of his chest. The fire dulled the sheen of the gem to a faint purple that was only an inch past grey, but that suited him just fine. If anything, it suited the ivory armor even better.

The forging was complete – but Arwin wasn’t finished. He grabbed his Forest Lizard Scale Mail and tossed it into the [Soul Flame] burning within the hearth, letting it join the newly finished piece.

Tingles raced down Arwin’s arms and neck, but the Mesh held off as if it could sense what he was doing. In all likelihood, it probably could. Arwin extended his senses to the flames, and they responded instantly.

A tiny mote of glowing light lifted out of the scale mail, so faint that he could barely see it within the fire. It drifted out, then sank into the new plate armor he’d just made. Grinning, Arwin reached into the fire and took the armor out, setting it on the anvil to cool.

He’d already cut some leather into the right shapes, so Arwin hammered it in place with some pins he’d made. He returned the armor to the fire briefly, just to make sure everything was completely set, and then finally laid it out once more.

The Mesh surged, finally freed from its reins, and flooded into the armor with such intensity that Arwin had to yank his hands back to avoid getting burned. Energy swirled before him and twisted into golden letters.

Ivory Executioner Chestplate: Unique Quality

[Resonant]: The crystals buried within this armor sing with every magical attack it takes, absorbing a small amount of the attack’s energy and storing it within the gem at its center. When the gem has filled, the bearer of this armor can infuse its power into their next attack.

[Smelted Fury]: This item was born again within the flames of [Soul Flame]. The wearer of this item gains heat resistance. Upon being struck, this item may forcibly draw magical energy and release a whip of [Soul Flame] at the attacker.

[Unique]: Once donned, this item will bond with its owner. It will change sizes so long as material permits to fit them perfectly, and anyone else who attempts to wear it may suffer retaliation. Information about this item may be hidden from others after it has bonded.

It possesses [1] concealed property.

Arwin wished he could use [Arsenal] to bond with the armor on the spot, but it was still bound to his old Scale Mail armor. He broke the bond and the ability instantly deactivated, turning itself off for the remainder of the day. That was fine – Arwin didn’t plan to let the armor out of his sight any time soon.

He scooped it up with a huge grin, already anticipating testing the armor out on their next trip to the dungeon. There was still a lot of metal left to work with, so he could make a helm next. After that could come gauntlets and boots – and then he’d have a full set.

I kind of want to hide this until the dungeon. That might be a bit petty of me, but the looks on everyone’s faces will be so much better if I can pull out a whole set.

Arwin stuffed the armor into a tarp bag. In a day, he'd be able to bond with it. He then adjusted his mask and left the smithy to return to the tavern, humming to himself as he pictured what his full set of armor would look like. This was going to be a good week.