Demon's Virtue

781  Beo

Eiro stepped down into the manor's basement, approaching the door to Armodeus' workshop. To his surprise, though, it was open. Usually, Armodeus kept it closed so that nobody would come and bother him.

"I'm tellin' ya, I ain't doing it," the dwarf said with a loud groan, "I'm happy here, so why'd I ever leave?" Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Eiro raised his brow. Armodeus' workshop was usually one of the 'blackout zones' that Eiro stopped himself from peeking into, but when he was this close, it was literally impossible for him to not hear the conversation. Since it seemed like a sensitive conversation, Eiro was about to turn around, when he heard Shimour's voice.

"Listen, I get that things weren't great there, but don't you think you owe it to him to go back? To at least give it all a shot? He asked you to take care of the town, but you just left," Shimour pointed out, "And I'm not in the business of telling others what to do, so if you say you don't want to do it, then don't. But Beo was my friend as well. I just don't want you to regret not doing the last thing he asked of you. That's just not like you."

Armodeus was silent, clearly thinking. Eiro was a bit taken aback, though. Beo? Who was that? If it was someone important to Armodeus, how has he never heard about him?

"I won't. End of discussion. Now leave, and shut the door behind you," the elder dwarf's voice sounded rougher than usual, though an unusual quivering laid underneath it. Shimour came outside with heavy footsteps, closing the heavy door behind him. As he turned around, he noticed Eiro standing there at the end of the hallway.

Shimour sighed loudly and started walking toward the stairs, "I'm guessing you heard that, huh? Just ignore it."

Eiro was about to do as he asked, since really, it was none of his business, but maybe his curiosity got the better of him in the end, "... Who was Beo?"

"Ask Armodeus if you want to know, I don't have the right to tell you," Shimour replied, and Eiro looked over toward him.

"Will he really tell me if I ask?"

"... You've got a convincing side to you, so I'm sure you can figure something out," the master shrugged, walking up the stairs. Hesitant, and trying to consider what exactly he should do, Eiro looked over at the door. Either way, he came down here to talk to Armodeus, whether it was about potentially making bone weapons for Krog, or about this 'Beo' person.

As he approached, Eiro used magic to pull the door open, and Armodeus immediately snapped his head away from his workbench and over toward him, "I said to- Oh... it's you, I'm sorry, lad, I thought you were..." the dwarf let out a long sigh, trying to act like he wasn't still upset, "What can I do ya for?"

"If you want, I can come back later," Eiro said, and Armodeus' fake smile dropped.

"Ya heard us?"

The demon nodded, "Yes, I did. And... I do want to know what it was about, of course, you know how curious I am about anything at all. But if this is something that you want to keep to yourself, then that is something that I will not take from you."

It seemed like Armodeus was thinking about it for a while, "I..." he let out a long breath, "Ya know what? Aye, I'll tell ya. Though, before ya do, just grab a bottle of liquor from upstairs. This ain't a conversation I'd like ta have sober."

Eiro smiled lightly and nodded, "Sure, of course. Would you like that Gin we have stored away? Whiskey? Some wine?"

Armodeus considered it for a moment, "Gin, if ya can."

"Of course," the demon said, snapping his finger. As he did, something stepped out of his body. A duplicate created from the power of the mirror that he had absorbed not too long ago. Absorbed, the power only let him duplicate himself, but it was much more efficient than before when it came to creating exact copies.

The duplicate stepped out of Eiro's body and used the power of the 'Ultimate Agility' card, rushing upstairs. By the time the duplicate had made it back, even Shimour had barely made it up the stairs and was absorbed back into the demon's body while handing over the bottle of gin and two glasses.

Armodeus let out a laugh, "I was hopin' ya could give me some time ta think about what I was going to say, but I guess that's one thing I shouldn't expect from ya."

The two sat down at the table in the side of the room, and Eiro quickly poured the elder dwarf a drink, before pouring one for himself, "If you want me to chill it for you, just say it."

"Aye. Thanks," he said, taking a sip of the gin before quickly shaking his head with a satisfied expression, "All's good. It's perfect."

"I'm glad to hear it," Eiro said, taking a sip himself. He wasn't the biggest fan of hard liquor. The taste was too strong even without his enhanced senses, and with them, it was almost unbearable sometimes. But by adjusting his senses a little bit, he could reduce the strength of his sense of taste to a point where it wasn't way too much for him. Like that, he could at least enjoy it a bit, but blocking his senses like that was always a weird sensation. But well, this moment wasn't about drinking anyway. It was about the time he was spending with Armodeus.

"Beo... I mean, Beowulf was a man I met when I was still quite young. A normal dwarven boy, cocky as can be. Was half the height I'm now, cause I was still not an Elder Dwarf. I had set up a shop somewhere for a while. There was a mine nearby that I wanted to explore. Built um some rapport with the village folk. And then one day, in the middle of winter, a wandered came to me, in search of a new weapon..."

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A cabin's door was kicked open. Treading in the snow from the outside, a tall man stepped inside. He almost scraped the doorframe with his head as he came in. His entire body was covered in a torn-up cloak. He stepped up to the counter on the other side of the room, "I'm looking for someone. A dwarf. Craftsman."

"Huh. That's an unusual combo. Ain't gonna be easy to find one of those," the other man across the counter said, scruffing his beard while suppressing a slight laugh.

The wanderer glanced over the counter, taking a closer look at the man behind it, "Are you him?"

"Who's 'him'? Gonna have ta be a bit more specific."

"... Armodeus. The craftsman."

With a grin on his face, the dwarf nodded his head, leaning forward on his stool, "Aye, the one and only. What can I do ya for?"

"I heard you're the best around here. That the weapons you make are capable of slaying anything," the wandered pointed out, and the young Armodeus grinned lightly.

"I do like flattery, but I'll have ya know that it ain't the weapon that does that. If ya want to slay, say, a dragon, you have to be able to slay a dragon. The weapon ain't gonna do it for ya," he replied, seeing the wanderer's slightly annoyed expression from under his hood before leaning forward, "But I promise ya, I can make a weapon that will stay by your side even after a dozen slain dragons."

"... That should do," the wandered said, seemingly a bit relieved. He grabbed the weapon from his back. It was an old sword, basically just a shaped iron pillar that was so dull that you couldn't even cut an apple with it. The moment Armodeus saw it, he jumped up from his stool and walked in front of the counter to get a closer look.

"You- How long have ya had this for, a thousand years?! How could ye do this to this beautiful child?" he said, snatching the weapon from the wanderer's hand. The weapon was longer than Armodeus was tall, but he still handled it as if it were made of paper, "The hell've you been fighting with this?"

The wandered looked down at Armodeus, huffing slightly, "Dragons."