Rise of the Living Forge

“I don’t suppose there’s a way for all of us to go so we can cheer our people on, is there?” Arwin asked. “I know we can’t go to the fights themselves, but surely there’s some form of arena seating.”

Selen’s lips quirked up in amusement. “There is, but getting access to that is not simple. A seat that lets you witness the strength of ranked guilds and see new talent emerge is a highly desirable one. The Secret Eye does not sell spots to the tournament lightly.”

You bastards. I should have known. They must be rinsing the shit out of all the rich buggers that want to find people to invest resources into and recruit. Actually, I bet there’s some great betting going on as well. I wonder if I can get in on that.

“What if we were to ask politely?” Reya asked, interlacing her fingers and making herself look as small and hopeful as possible.

It struck Arwin that Reya really was quite young. War had aged him faster than most things, but even compared to his 25 years of age, Reya was only in her late teens. It wasn’t like that was new information. Reya didn’t often act her age, but it certainly helped her do a remarkable impression of a young child begging for a sweet.

Selen coughed into her fist. “Stop that.”

“No,” Reya said. “Give us seats or I’m going to start crying.”

“You can’t think that would work on me. And you’ve admitted that the tears would be fake. That completely defeats the purpose of such a threat.”

Reya sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so stiff about it.” Reya’s expression evaporated like summer rain and she took a step forward, prodding Selen lightly in the shoulder. “You owe us. You can’t tell me there isn’t somewhere we could sit around and watch from. I’m sure you’re making more than enough money from all the other people attending.”

“It would be expensive. The Secret Eye do not make exceptions. The cost of seating in the stands is fixed. We are nothing but our word. That is the purpose of the Secret Eye. We have told the others in the stands that the price is fixed, so do not even attempt to bargain.”

Reya slumped. She turned around and took a step away. Then she turned back, an eyebrow arching. A smug look pulled at her lips as she lifted a hand. “How expensive? Would this cover it?”

Pinched between her fingers was a leather money bag. Selen’s eyes widened and her hand shot down to her waist, feeling for a pouch that was no longer there.

Selen snatched the bag back from Reya, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “How’d you manage to pull that off? I didn’t even see you grab it.”

“Does this count as you accepting my payment?” Reya asked, completely ignoring the question and sending a pointed look at the pouch in Selen’s hand. “Because you just took money from me.”

“My money. What kind of childish attempt is this? You cannot pay me with my own money. Now—”

“Actually, there’s more than your own money in there.”

Selen paused. A frown pulled at her lips. “What?”

Reya nodded to the pouch. “I put an extra gold in there when I was turned around. You accepted payment from me. Didn’t you just say you were nothing but your word?”

Olive coughed into a fist, but Arwin was pretty sure she was doing her absolute best to avoid laughing.

“You cannot seriously expect this to work,” Selen said. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Do you think this is a game?”

“I mean, if we’re being really technical, am I wrong? You did accept payment from me. Just unintentionally. Sure, that won’t get us seats in your fancy stands, but with what I’ve learned about the Secret Eye, I’d stick a dagger in my asscheek if you didn’t have some out of the way viewing room.”

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Selen stared at Reya for a second. Then she let out a huff of air and shook her head, fishing a gold out of her purse and flicking it to Reya. “Keep your coin. There is a location you can watch from, but you will need to remain out of the way. It will not be as nice as the spots in the stands.”

Arwin grinned. He’d been about to ask how much the stand seats were — the Menagerie had been making quite the decent amount of money as of late. He was pretty sure they could afford seating, but there was no reason to waste money if they could save it.

“We appreciate it,” Arwin said.

Selen just shook her head. “Unless you’ve got any other delays, I would like to depart now. The combatants need to be brought to their rooms. How many of you will be attending? I could accommodate up to three.”

Arwin glanced at Lillia, but she shook her head. She couldn’t leave the Devil’s Den. They didn’t know how long the Proving Grounds would last, and not having a way back to Milten without the Secret Eye was a huge risk.

“Just Reya and Arwin, I think,” Rodrick said. His voice seemed a bit deeper than normal, and he’d positioned himself behind Monica in a way that concealed most of his body. “The rest of us will stay back. We’ve got a business to run over here, you know. We can’t be waltzing off constantly.”

For a moment, Arwin almost asked why Rodrick hadn’t suggested sending Anna. Having a healer in case things went wrong felt wise. Then he remembered their history with the Secret Eye. Even though Selen didn’t recognize them, Rodrick definitely wanted to keep himself and Anna away from them.

When it comes to plotting shit, I’m never going to question him or Lillia. If he thinks the two of us are the best, then that’s probably the best.

Selen inclined her head. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a small stone disk covered with carvings that shimmered with faint white energy. She tossed the disk to the ground, where it shattered apart like a ceramic plate.

Threads of magic rose up from the broken disk, binding together and weaving themselves into a glowing disk. Within moment, an opaque portal hung in the air before them.

“Fighters, through here,” Selen said with a nod to the floating disk. “Arwin and Reya will come with me. The Proving Grounds await.”

***

Art emerged from the Secret Eye’s portal into a spacious waiting room.

Red velvet padded chairs were lined up before a wooden table. Beyond it was a wide rectangular window that looked out into a massive arena. What must have been hundreds of seats stretched out before him, looping around to presumably continue above their room.

At the very center of the arena was a large stone platform. It was around one hundred paces in width and ringed by dozens of rooms that appeared identical to the one he’d just arrived in.

Many of the other rooms already had people in them, but he couldn’t make out anything other than their vague shadows. It seemed that the Secret Eye had used magically modified glass to ensure nobody would get too much of an advantage by spying on their opponents.

He reached up to the armor that Arwin had made for him. It wasn’t uncomfortable — and that alone made it feel out of place. He’d never worn armor before. Not for long, at least. It was just too difficult to move around in with his leg.

Arwin had managed to find a way around that. The armor was a mixture of silver and white, composed of Brightsteel and Ivorin. It fit perfectly on him — and the new cane at his side was surprisingly light for being made from solid metal.

That man… he’s something else. Making equipment like this for his opponents is ludicrous. The Menagerie as a whole are fascinating. Such a mixture of ruthlessness and honor. Not something that I would have thought would work, but it does.

“What are you thinking?” Vix asked, stepping up behind him. Her armor was pitch black. Something about it made Art squint — even though he was looking right at her, his sister’s form seemed to be bleeding into her surroundings. It was vaguely uncomfortable to stare at.

“Nothing,” Art replied, turning back to the arena. “We have not had any true practice working together as a team.”

“No,” Kien agreed. “But a day or two would not have made a true difference. It is fine. I am capable of adapting to your styles.”

“Of course you are,” Vix muttered. Behind them, the white portal sealed shut with a pop. Vix just shook her head, her eyes drifting to Kien’s weapon. “You’re probably the best fighter in this tournament. I mean, you’re so good that you’re intentionally not even using a real weapon.”

Art wasn’t so sure that was the case. He considered himself rather apt at reading people — and there was absolutely nothing about Kien that told him that the man was planning to take this tournament easily.

Kien’s gaze held death, but his features were perfectly calm.

He simply adjusted his grip on the inexplicably plain weapon that Arwin had gifted him. And, out of everything that Art had seen the smith make up until now, it was the thing that set him the most on edge.

Everyone else had gotten armor. Weapons. Magical artifacts whose power was evident, even if their abilities were not — but in Kien’s hands was no weapon at all.

The only thing he’d asked from Arwin was a mere broom.

“There’s no need to speak so highly of me,” Kien said quietly. “I’m just here for a spring cleaning.”

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