Rise of the Living Forge

The tension around the wooden table was so high that Arwin could practically taste it in the darkened air. Thick shadows gathered around their table and the noise from the rest of the tavern faded into little more than a distant buzz as Lillia’s magic worked to mute their conversation from anyone who might have been trying to listen.

Vix stood at the end of the table, her hands clenched tight at her sides. Rodrick observed her, leaned back in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together in silent confidence. There wasn’t a flicker of worry or fear in his posture.

Finally, Vix moved. She took a step forward and grabbed the back of a chair. She dragged it out and flopped down in it with a thump.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But just so you know, I hate this shit. I’ve never been good at the political crap. It’s Art you should be talking to. I’m just the hand to the mind. Don’t get pissy if I end up saying something rude. You’re the one who told me to sit.”

“We can appreciate being blunt a whole lot more than bandying words,” Rodridck said with a smile. “I’m glad you decided to speak with us. I much preferred this to the alternative.”

“Just tell me what you want. And what were you saying about Art playing dirty cards? All we’ve done is observe you. That’s hardly anything special. You’ve been doing the same to us.”

Arwin wasn’t sure if Vix was telling the truth or not, but she sounded sincere enough. That analysis would have to be left to Rodrick, but it was impossible to tell what the man was thinking.

“Just observing? I’d say it was a bit more than that,” Rodrick said with a shake of his head. “But it’s no matter. I prefer you make it to your father in time, so I’ll lay everything on the table in a moment. But first I want you to tell me something. What do you think Art is thinking right now?”

“What?” Vix blinked. “How would I know? He’s the genius, not me. I just stab things.”

“You’re his sister. I’d imagine you’ve spent enough time around him to figure out a bit of how he approaches problems,” Rodrick said. “I’m not trying to ask you a trick question here — and you are not as stupid as you’re trying to act. Answer the question.”

“He’d be trying to leverage any information we have to weaken you in the tournament,” Vix said after a moment of hesitation. “But that’s not illegal. Mental warfare is just as important as physical.”

“So it is,” Rodrick agreed. “And Art thinks he’s found something he can use, doesn’t he?”

Vix nodded. “Yes. He told you as much.”

“So he did. And I wouldn’t have any issue with that in most situations. I’d do much of the same, to be frank. But there’s one problem. He’s not planning that against a member of the tournament. He’s planning it against Arwin, who is not participating as anything but a smith. Now wouldn’t you say that’s a little dirty?”

Vix shifted uncomfortably. She was clearly unused to being questioned so closely. Her eyes flicked to Arwin. “I don’t know. You’re still in the tournament, aren’t you? There are a lot of rumors. About your weapons. They could sway the battle a lot if even half of what has been said is true. I’d say it’s fair game.”

“And where does that end? Are you fair game? What about Art himself? He doesn’t plan to fight himself, just to direct you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at. Is that a threat?”

“Not the kind of threat you’re thinking of,” Rodrick said. “Anna, would you please—”

Before he’d even finished speaking, Anna walked over from where she stood in the crowd and held out a sheet of paper along with a quill and a pot of ink. Arwin wasn’t sure how she’d heard him from where she stood — which meant this had probably been rehearsed between the two of them at some point.

How much has Rodrick prepared for? I almost feel like I’m getting pulled along for the show just as much as Vix is.

Rodrick took the paper with a nod and started to write. It took him nearly five minutes to finish. He’d written quite a lot. The former paladin picked his work up and read over it briefly before blowing on the ink, folding the paper up, and sliding it over to Vix. ℞Ã₦𝙤𝐁ËS

She raised an eyebrow.

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“Really?”

“I have a flair for the theatrical at times,” Rodrick said. “That paper has everything you need, including all the information I have about the plot against your father. Take a look — and burn it when you’re done, if you would. I don’t want to be connected to this.”

Vix’s eyes widened. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Rodrick said. “There’s more than just one thing on there. You aren’t going to like everything. Go on. Take a look.”

Vix unfolded the paper. Her eyes flicked as she followed Rodrick’s suggestion. Seconds ticked by. Her features paled and she looked back up at Rodrick, her expression having gone completely flat.

Arwin resisted the urge to lean over the table to read whatever it was that the other man had written.

“What is this?” Vix demanded, slamming the paper into the table.

“The truth,” Rodrick replied. “Research it yourself if you want — but you’re running out of time, now. Your father is in danger.”

“I can’t make it back in time!” Vix snarled. She shot to her feet. “If this is true, it’s already too late! It takes more than a few hours to travel between Thornhelm and Milten, and the plot is set for dawn! Why didn’t you warn us?”

“You only arrived a short while ago,” Rodrick said expressionlessly. “And you came here to threaten us out of the tournament. Why would we help someone that sees us as an enemy?”

“Fuck,” Vix said, panic gripping her features. She made toward the exit of the tavern. “I need to find Art. We have to send a message. I—”

“It won’t make it,” Rodrick said. “You don’t have time.”

Vix spun back to him. “What would you have me do? Nothing?”

Rodrick shrugged one shoulder. “You know, I’ve known about this for some time. Long enough to set measures in place. After all, you never know who might turn into an ally.”

Vix’s eyes went wide. “What are you saying?”

“I have people ready to act,” Rodrick replied. “Your father’s mansion is under watch. One word from me and they’ll interfere with the assassins. He’ll be safe… but I’m not going out of my way to help an enemy.”

Vix’s jaw clenched. “This is blackmail.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re asking me to put people’s lives on the line for someone trying to blackmail my guild leader.” Rodrick’s tone darkened. “And I’m not doing that for an enemy. I’m no saint, Vix. And neither are you or your brother.”

The woman stared at him for several long seconds. Then her shoulders slumped.

“We’ll drop out of the tournament. Save my father. But if I find out you’ve lied to me, I swear on every god that’s listening that—”

“Whoa there,” Rodrick said, holding his hands up. “That is not what I’m after.”

Vix blinked. “What?”

“I don’t want you to drop out,” Rodrick said firmly. He pressed his hands against the table. “We don’t want to cheat our way to a victory. That’s some scum bullshit. The only thing we want is for you to stay the hell out of our business. Take the information you and Art found with you to your graves. It can never get out. Do that for me, and I’d consider you a friend.”

Vix stared at Rodrick in disbelief. “That’s all you want? Just that we don’t reveal anything that we found about the smith?”

“Correct,” Rodrick said. “Godspit, I’m sure Lillia would toss in a nice meal for you and Art while you’re at it. Her food is famous. I wasn’t lying when we spoke earlier. If we can be allies, I’d like to be. Art is a very capable individual. I’d love to work with him. But it’s your choice. Feel free to go try to find someone else.”

“Done,” Vix said without a second of hesitation. “If that’s all you’re asking for, then it’s done. I swear on my life that we’ll never share the information Art found. Save my father. Please.”

“Go give that note to Art, then come back for dinner if you want it,” Rodrick said, rising to his feet. “We can all have a meeting under better circumstances. I’ll pass the orders along.”

Vix gave him a sharp nod. She grabbed the paper and turned, nearly running for the door. Arwin stared at her back until she was gone, then slowly turned back to Rodrick.

“What the fuck was all that about? Is anyone else confused?”

“I’ll be happy to explain later,” Rodrick said. “At the moment, I need to send word to deal with some assassins.”

“Wait. You weren’t bluffing?”

“Oh, no,” Rodrick replied. “I was dead serious. No pun intended. Having a real threat is far more effective than a fake one. There are assassins that plan to kill Duke Aleric by next dawn.”

“Then when did you get warriors strong enough to fight off assassins?” Arwin asked, baffled. “How much have you been hiding from us?”

“Too much, but I don’t have warriors strong enough to fight off assassins.”

“What? Then how…”

Rodrick turned to fully face Arwin. The man’s features were as flat as stone, and there was something deep within his eyes that sent a coil of unease twisting in Arwin’s soul.

“I’m the one that hired the assassins,” Rodrick said. “And every morning, unless they get word from me otherwise, they are to execute the duke.”

It took a moment for Arwin to process that. By the time he could, he could only muster a single word.

“Why? I thought Aleric was a good man.”

“He is. I had no plans of actually killing him,” Rodrick replied. “But the contract is real. The threat was real. I know how you think, Arwin. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Peace can’t be achieved through entirely peaceful ways. Sometimes, there has to be a monster in the shadows. I’d be happy to continue this conversation later, but I have to go make sure Aleric doesn’t accidentally get offed.”

With that, Rodrick strode away from the table and headed out of the Devil’s Den, leaving everyone watching after him with a mixture of awe and horror in their expressions.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. He’s not wrong... but I only know one thing for certain.

Rodrick is terrifying. I’m glad he’s on our side.