Rise of the Living Forge

A fist pounded against the door of the Devil’s Den like the thunder of crashing hooves. It split through the night incessantly, and it brought a small frown to Lillia’s lips. The inn was already at max capacity tonight. It was too late to keep cooking and the kitchen had been shut down; the common room was empty.

Everyone who had been waiting in the crowd had already been informed that they’d closed for the day. There shouldn’t have been anyone waiting around at this hour of the night. There were even signs that Reya had made a few days ago set up to inform any potential customers that they didn’t have any more room.

I just expanded, but I really need to expand again as soon as I can. I can’t keep up with capacity and we’re pulling in money by the shovelfuls. Still, I suppose I should go let whoever that is know that we’re closed for the day.

Lillia set the feather brush she’d been using to clean off the countertop down and wiped her hands off on her apron. She stepped around the countertop and made her way past neatly arranged tables, already tidied up and prepared for the night.

It was well into the evening hours and, even though she couldn’t see outside, she knew the moon hung high above Milten. Half the reason she was even still awake was because she was waiting for Arwin to finish up with Olive and Phoenix Circle. They’d all been in his smithy for the latter half of the day.

I can’t wait to find out how things have gone. There can’t be that much time left before the Secret Eye announce the tournament’s dates. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t done it already. There must be something holding them up for some reason.

Lillia shook her head and made her way across the common room to the door. Whoever was on the other side still hadn’t stopped knocking. She pulled it open, half expecting a hand to whistle through the air where the wood had been a moment before.

Instead, she found herself standing face to face with a hunched, dirt-covered man. His clothes were marred with stains and blood; hung from his body like the ragged scraps of a flag. Dark hair framed his face and his features were so sunken that he almost resembled a corpse.

Lillia might have taken him for a beggar at the pits of his luck if it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes. There was a darkness deep within them — a determination like that of a falling blade.

“I seek the smith,” the man said, his voice raspy from lack of use. “Where is he?”

“I think the thing you need to seek is a bath,” Lillia said flatly. She took a step back into the darkness of the tavern, keeping her powers at the ready. The Mesh hadn’t identified any information about the man and he hadn’t stepped into the premises of the Devil’s Den yet, so she had no way to know just how strong he really was.

He’s seen battle. That’s for sure. The look in his eyes is of someone who knows all to well what it feels like kill.

“A bath can wait,” the man rasped. He coughed into a clenched fist, then wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve, smearing blood across his lips. “The smith. I was told he lives here.”

“There’s a long line of people waiting to see him. I’ll put your name down if you want me to.”

“I don’t have time to wait,” the man said, doubling over as another raspy cough shook his body. He straightened again, grabbing onto the doorframe to steady himself. His gaze lifted up to meet Lillia’s and his lips pulled back in something between a snarl and a grimace. “He can fix me.”

The hair on the back of Lillia’s neck stood on end. Even though the man had entered her domain, she couldn’t feel anything from him. The Mesh revealed no information about his abilities or level. It didn’t even say his name.

It’s like there isn’t even anyone in front of me. Even a person that hasn’t unlocked a class from the Mesh should have something about them. Is this guy even alive? He’s like a void.

“What are you?” Lillia asked. She took a step back despite herself. It wasn’t right to just attack someone purely off the fact that they made her unsettled, but a little extra caution went a long way. Every single one of her senses warned her that this wasn’t someone to take lightly.

“A monster.”

A surprised laugh slipped from her lips before she could help it. The man blinked in surprise as Lillia let her hands lower.

How ironic.

“A monster?” Lillia repeated. “I doubt it. Come inside.”

The man stepped into the Devil’s Den. Fully immersing himself within the building did nothing to reveal his status — and Lillia didn’t miss the fact that he waited to enter until she gave him permission to.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

There’s something wrong with him, but he’s polite. Point in his favor. I need to do something to kill some time tonight anyway. Something tells me I should at least hear this guy out.

“Where’s the smith?” the man asked.

“Busy,” Lillia replied. She pointed to the bathroom. “And so are you. Go wash up. I’ll have someone bring you a spare change of clothes.”

“I need—”

“A bath. As aforementioned.”

“No,” the man shook his head. He coughed into his fist again, staggered, then caught his balance in a flash. The man swallowed heavily before speaking again. “I do not have time for—”

“Let it be said I tried the easy way.”

Lillia snapped her fingers.

The Devil’s Den came to life.

A chair shot out beneath from a table to the man’s side. He twisted, dodging out of the way — and another chair shot into the back of his legs. He fell back into it with a grunt.

Before he could even try to move or stand, the chair scooted off across the floor, galloping upon wooden legs. The door to the bathroom flew open of its own accord and the man, along with the chair, vanished within it.

There was a loud splash a few moments later. A slew of raspy curses followed after it, but those were quickly muted by the sound of aggressive scrubbing. Water crashed over the sound of man’s muffled voice. His curses changed to pleas for help, but the Demon Queen waited in cold stoicism.

A few minutes later, a chair walked back out of the bathroom. The man sat upon it, wrapped tightly within a fuzzy towel. His long, ragged hair was plastered to his face and a second towel had bound itself around his head.

The edges of a fresh outfit stuck out from beneath the towel holding him in place. It was one of Arwin’s — Lillia had bought so many extras for when he inevitably ruined them in the smithy that she could afford to spare one.

All the grime and muck was gone from the man’s body. He had been thoroughly scrubbed… and traumatized.

“There,” Lillia said. “Isn’t that better?”

“What manner of mage are you?” the man asked, staring at her in disbelief. His voice sounded considerably less pained than it had a few minutes ago. For him, it might have just been a bath, but the longer anyone stayed within the Devil’s Den, the more it passively worked to strengthen them. Taking a bath within the inn was a good way to accelerate that.

“One who doesn’t like her customers tracking dirt and blood across her floor,” Lillia said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re thin as a rail. When’s the last time you had food?”

“I cannot afford to waste time—”

“Right. You don’t get to make demands when you come banging on my door this late at night. You’ve got two options,” Lillia said. “I unwrap you and you feed yourself — or I shove a sandwich down your throat. Which is it going to be?”

The man stared at her for a long second. Then he swallowed.

“I am capable of eating myself.”

“Good. Stay there.” Lillia snapped her fingers and the towel unwound from the man, spinning him from the seat like a dancer. He staggered, stopping himself against the counter.

Before the man could say anything else, she strode into the kitchen. It would be easy enough to toss some food together for him quickly. There was definitely something damaged in the man, and she wasn’t going to have him dying on her before she could figure out why it was he wanted to see Arwin so badly.

It doesn’t hurt that I get more control over anyone that eats my food. If he’s a threat… then he’ll be simple to deal with after he’s eaten my cooking.

Lillia got to work.

She emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later, armed with a simple ham sandwich. The man’s eyes tracked her as she smacked it down on the counter before him, then arched an eyebrow.

This time, he didn’t waste energy arguing. He wordlessly picked the sandwich up and took a bite. Then he froze. His eyes widened and he stared at it for just about half a second before shoving the rest of the food down his gullet in record time.

It was gone within moments.

“Hungry?” Lillia asked, unable to hide the flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“That was the best sandwich I’ve ever tried,” the man said, staring at the empty plate in awe. “What is this place?”

“The Devil’s Den. We aren’t exactly serving dinner at the moment — you owe me a silver by the way — but you’re welcome to swing by for a proper meal any other day.”

The man hesitated. “I… don’t have any money right now.”

What a surprise.

“Then perhaps you can pay by answering some of my questions,” Lillia said with a sly smile. “Starting with why you’re looking for Ifrit. If you’ve got a really good reason, I’ll introduce you to him.”

“He’s here?” the man nearly leapt up from the table, but his chair shot back into his legs and pushed him back into a seated position.

“I’ve bathed and fed you. You aren’t doing anything other than answering my questions.”

The man stiffened. Then his shoulders slumped — not out of defeat, but exhaustion.

“I need a healer,” he said. “I am dying. Every healer I have been to is helpless to aid me.”

“We have a pretty good healer,” Lillia said. “She might be able to do something. Just what is it you need fixed?”

“My heart.”

“Okay. That might be slightly difficult,” Lillia admitted. “You’re certain it needs to be replaced? It can’t be healed?”

“It is already healed,” the man said with a shake of his head. “And it is worthless. My power. My body. My soul. It is all gone, and it is tied to my heart. I need the smith. Perhaps, should he know who I am, he will help me.”

“You knew each other?” Lillia asked in surprise.

“No,” the man replied with a shake of his head. “But perhaps he knows me.”

“Who are you? You’ve still yet to say.”

“You must not share my name with anyone other than the smith. Can you swear that? If you do, then I will tell you. If you cannot comply, then it is likely that everyone here will die.”

Lillia blinked. Then she shrugged. Keeping secrets was nothing new to her.

“We can do that. I swear I won’t share it with anyone outside this guild.”

“That… will have to be acceptable.” The man looked at her with his dark, empty eyes. Deep within them, sorrow and hatred burned like dying flames sputtering in a stormy night. “I am nothing but an empty shell. But just a few mere passings of the sun ago, I was known as Kien of the Twin Blades.”