Rise of the Living Forge

Kien, Art, and Vix didn’t have to wait long for the introductions that Arwin promised them. The inn started to wake just a few minutes after their conversation had finished.

Lillia informed them that people were already heading down from their rooms and entering the common room. She, as such, had already started on breakfast — even though she hadn’t budged a foot from where she stood in the basement.

“I’ve sent for Monica,” Lillia said absently. “Rodrick too.”

“Why Rodrick?” Art asked suspiciously.

“Because he’s an expert on this plotty-schemey shit,” Lillia replied without missing a beat. One of her hands twitched and her head tilted to the side. Her lips pursed in concentration for a moment before she continued as if nothing had happened. “And if you’re planning to ally with us, then you better accept him.”

“It is not that I do not accept Rodrick,” Art said. “I respect him.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Lillia asked.

“The problem is that I respect him.”

Arwin hid a smile. It looked like Art wasn’t much a fan of getting outmaneuvered. He supposed that he wouldn’t have been either, had he stood in the boy’s shoes. It was a tough comparison. Unfortunately for Art, Rodrick had quite a bit of experience — and an entire library of magical, forbidden knowledge — up on him.

“Then you should use this opportunity to learn,” Arwin said. “Holding grudges will get you nowhere. If someone’s better than you at something, you shouldn’t endeavor to avoid them… unless you have something to hide.”

“I do not have any plans of betraying you.”

“Does me include the Menagerie?”

“It’s your guild,” Art said. “And as long as that remains true, I would not seek to directly go against you. It would be the act of an unfathomable fool. Even before, I only planned to maneuver around you. If we were enemies, I would lose.”

“High praise from one as arrogant as you,” Kien observed. He studied Art’s face for several moments, peering at him from beneath his ragged hair. “Why?”

“I will not answer that question,” Art said. “Even if we are on the same team. It was an order given to me by the very same person that brought us together.”

Kien’s gaze shifted to Arwin. “Interesting. Something tells me that your goals and the boy’s goals for the long run do not align.”

God, I hate all this lying bullshit. It’s so hard to keep track of who knows what and who’s on who’s side. I trust Kien. We have a common enemy. He has more reason than anyone else to throw in with us.

Art… I’ll leave that to Rodrick. The kid is on our side for the moment. He’s a bit too squirrely for me to trust him any more than that, but it seems he has no plans of revealing who I am anymore.

That, at least, is all I really need.

I think.

“Well, well. Art. Look who it is. I can’t believe you showed up in the morning!” Rodrick’s voice rang through the basement. They all turned as he stepped into the darkness, arms crossed in front of his chest and a frown on his features. “We specified dinner! I had a whole plan ready for it. Did you think it was a trap or something?”

“Rodrick,” Art greeted, his features growing guarded. “No. I knew it wasn’t a trap. That wouldn’t have made any sense. I was planning on coming for dinner. I just got waylaid in preparations. By the time I was done, it was morning.”

Rodrick let out a grunt. “The one thing I forgot to account for. Teenage distractions.”

“I was not distracted. I was preparing.”

“Right,” Rodrick said. He looked to Kien and scratched at his chin. “Who’s this?”

“I am Kien.”

“You’re more than that, I’d say,” Rodrick said. “The way you carry yourself… you’re a warrior. No sword, though. You have a similar look to Arwin. You’re their final teammate, then?”

“Showoff,” Art muttered as he scrunched his nose up. “It wasn’t that hard to tell. I could have figured the same thing out if I were in your shoes.”

A flicker of a smile pulled at Vix’s lips. She averted her gaze to make sure Art didn’t notice it.

Arwin fought to hold back a laugh.

He’s jealous. Or embarrassed that he’s getting shown up a bit. Better now than later, Art. It builds humility… and I wish I’d gotten the wakeup call that I was nowhere near the strongest a long time ago. If I’d known, then maybe I’d have looked more closely at the actions of people around me.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Maybe I would have figured out what was going on in the guild before my friends all paid the price for it.

Before anyone could say anything else, another set of steps echoed through the dark basement. A towering form ducked into it, practically bursting out of her maid uniform as she approached the group gathered around the Ashleaf Tree.

Kien’s eyes went wide and he jerked to his feet. “Orc!”

“In a maid outfit,” Art said flatly, his eyes not even leaving Rodrick. “It’s a costume. Obviously. Do you actually think a real orc would be strolling around in a pretty black and white dress?”

It’s interesting. Art is talented enough at gathering information that Rodrick was worried about him, but he’s clearly still a kid. A sheltered one. Making such ironclad decisions is a dangerous game. Gets you locked into a worldview so tightly that you’ll disbelieve what your own eyes tell you.

“That’s sweet of you, honey,” Monica said, giving Art a wide grin. “I quite like the uniform myself. Never thought I’d go around wearing one of these, but as it turns out, it makes bashing the brains out of idiots a whole lot more fun. I’m sure glad I don’t have to wash the blood off it, though. That would be a hassle.”

“That’s what the imps are for,” Lillia said. “I’d like you all to meet Monica. Our bouncer.”

“Pleasure,” Monica said.

Kien squinted at her. Then his eyes drifted to Lillia. Suspicion etched itself into his features. He was not nearly as easily convinced as Art was. “Would you be offended if I requested to touch your makeup?”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“I would not be offended, but I would have to refuse the request,” Lillia said with a sly smile. “That’s a privilege reserved for my partner, I’m afraid.”

“I’ve got a husband,” Monica said, raising her hands. “No touching the fangs. You can give me a handshake, though. Or a good sparring match. I’ll go for either.”

“How’d you get the fangs in there, anyway?” Vix asked curiously. “They’re so realistic! Aren’t they uncomfortable?”

“I’ve bit myself a few times,” Monica admitted. “But you get used to them after a while.”

“Does your tavern require all its employees to dress up as monsters?” Vix asked Lillia.

“It fits the theme, don’t you think?” Lillia asked.

“I suppose it does,” Vix allowed. “It’s nice to meet you, Monica. I’m Vix. This is my brother, Art. And—”

“Kien,” the former hero said flatly. “I am Kien.”

Monica started to nod. “Pleasure. I don’t see anybody here in the need of a thumping, so I’ll take it that you want an introduction to Raen? I’d been wondering when you were going to follow up on that. Let me guess—”

Then she froze.

“Gut a hog and call it mother,” Monica breathed. She strode forward in a blur, slamming to a stop a few feet away from Kien and crouching to be at head level with him. He didn’t so much as budge as the two of them stared at each other. Monica let out a delighted laugh. “Kien? Of the Twin Blades?”

“I am just Kien. You have me mixed up.” The ragged man’s features were indecipherable.

“No, I most certainly don’t.” Monica shook her head firmly. “I recognize you! Raen has a poster of you in our room. We’re huge fans. What an honor! Where are your swords? I’d love to try my hand against you! You’re not on a mission right now, are you? Is there something you’ve been sent to exterminate?”

Kien was perfectly still for several long seconds. Arwin expected the slew of questions to annoy him even further. But, to his surprise, the faintest flicker of a smile graced the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry to disappoint. There is no quest, and I am not Kien of the Twin Blades. Not anymore. I have to admit that this is a first for me.”

“Twin Blades?” Art muttered under his breath. His features creased in a frown and he pulled his deck of cards out, rifling through them. He pulled one free. Then his eyes went wide and his gaze snapped back to Kien as he repeated himself, his tone of voice shifting to shock. “Twin Blades? You’re supposed to be dead!”

“I am.”

“Oh no,” Monica said, her features twisting in horror. “Did you retire?”

“Nothing like that,” Kien said softly. “I just never thought that one of my fans would be a monster.”

“Don’t be rude,” Vix said. “The tavern has a unique idea. I think it’s cute.”

“I was not being rude,” Kien said. “Monica’s bodily proportions are not human. She handles herself too gracefully for it to be prosthetics — and she moves like a trained warrior. There is no costume. Monica is an orc.”

“I thought you were using that name as a pseudonym or you simply went by it to avoid using your real one,” Art said, staggering to his feet and leaning heavily against his crutch. “You’re actually Kien?”

“Wait. You’re a hero?” Vix exclaimed. Her eyes darted from Kien to Monica. “And you’re a monster?”

“No! This is definitely a costume,” Monica said hurriedly, sending Arwin a panicked look.

“It’s fine,” Arwin said, stepping forward before the situation could devolve any further. “Monica is Monica. That’s it. If you’re going to be working with us, then you’ll be finding that there’s a whole lot more to most things than what they seem.”

“So I have already seen,” Kien said. His eyes locked on Lillia. Then they sharpened. Arwin could practically see the lines connecting in the man’s head. He was intelligent — and the betrayal of the guild had shattered the basis his opinions had been built on.

“Only when what you believe to be true is shattered can you witness the world for what it is,” Rodrick said softly. “Read that in a shitty, pompous book a while ago. Welcome to the Menagerie’s inner fold.”

“Impossible,” Art muttered. His features were pale as he stared at a card in his hand, eyes darting from it to Monica and back again.

“What does it say?” Vix asked urgently.

“They’re telling the truth,” Art said, his words barely above a whisper. “Monica is an orc. A talking orc. In a maid costume.”

“Why don’t you celebrate your new induction with some frivolous spending?” A new voice asked. They all turned as Esmerelda ambled into the room alongside Madiv. A massive bag clinked and rang with every step she took. She held a wicked-looking sword sheathed in obsidian aloft before her. “Anyone want to buy a sword? Only the best prices for friends of the guild.”

Art, Kien, and Vix all stared at her, their shock momentarily robbed by confusion. A second of silence passed.

“That’s definitely cursed,” Vix said.

“No doubt about it,” Art said.

“Cursed,” Kien agreed.

“…only a little?” Esmerelda tried weakly.

Kien squinted past her at Madiv. Then his eye twitched.

“Is that… a vampire?”

“What?” Madiv asked, pressing an affronted hand to his chest. “Me? No. Of course not. Does a pristine sense of style make a man a vampire?”

“No. The blood on your collar does.”

“Tomato juice,” Madiv said. “I have a fondness for spherical red fruits.”

“That’s a vampire,” Art said flatly.

“Definitely a vampire,” Vix muttered. She pinched the bridge of her nose, looking faint. “What is going on?”

“Welcome to the Menagerie’s inner fold,” Arwin said with a laugh. “We do things a bit differently here. You’ll get used to it. Probably.”