Before Arwin could even respond to Wallace, Lillia’s expression went flat. Her lips thinned and the light in the smithy dimmed as shadows gathered around her and rose up the walls. Out of the corner of his eyes, Arwin spotted Reya and Rodrick through the door in the main room of the smithy as their hands shot to their weapons.
“I’d reword that statement, because it sounded an awful lot like a threat,” Lillia said, her voice as cold as ice. “And I’m not much of a fan of anyone that threatens the people I care about.”
“No point mincing words, lass,” Wallace replied with a shrug. He tapped his hammer on his shoulder and shook his head. “I got a duty to my people. We keep our teachings under wraps for a reason. Can’t have a madman running around and making dwarven weaponry — even if it’s just a poor replica of it. Too many people can get hurt.”
“He’s not a madman,” Lilia said.
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, do you?” Wallace asked. He glanced over his shoulder at the heart, then let out a grunt. “And I’m not so sure about that. You tellin’ me anything but a madman would make an abomination ?”
“What’s so weird about it?” Arwin protested. He wasn’t nearly as offended at Wallace’s concern about this abilities as he was with the insinuation that he and Lillia had made something that revulsive. “It was a perfectly logical idea. Are you saying you’d waste a magic heart that beat on its own? Anyone in their right mind would try to use it as an engine if they could.”
“It was a still-beating heart! Outside of a body!” Wallace exclaimed. “Do you even know what this is?”
“No,” Arwin admitted. “But you clearly do. Care to enlighten me?”
“A dungeon heart is a part of a monster that was severely corrupted by magical energy after they died. The heart continues to absorb magical power, the desires of the monster imprinted on it keeping it alive but has no way to actually advance or accomplish anything on its own. They’re functionally immensely powerful magical amplifiers. Dungeon hearts are generally attached to or consumed by depraved fools willing to bond themselves with monsters to gain great strength. I’ve never heard of one getting attached to a blasted building.”
“Me as well,” Rodrick added, poking his head through the door.
Olive and Anna both squeezed through the entrance of the smithy at the exact same time and added their own voices into the mix.
“I did not invite the lot of you,” Wallace snapped. He pointed his hammer at them. “Off with you, rats. One spectator is already breaking tradition. I will not be allowing four more.”
“Five, actually. I would rip my own heart free of its cage if I allowed Lillian and her consort to wander off with a creature such as yourself.” A new voice cut through the air, words prim and proper.
Everyone turned to the entrance of the smithy to find Madiv standing by the open door, his arms crossed before his chest and eyebrow arched.
“Seriously?” Wallace asked. “How many of you are there? Do you just grow from the floor boards like moss?”
“Please let me in,” Madiv said, his tone considerably lower.
“You can come inside,” Olive said.
Madiv stepped inside and gave Olive a short nod before turning his attention back to the dwarf.
“We will not allow you to leave with our guild leader. What’s the difference between one spectator and a few more?”
“You and I have very different definitions of few,” Wallace replied. He squinted up at Arwin. “Do you have any more? Or is this the lot of them?”
Before Arwin could answer, yet another person skidded up to the door. They were all already conveniently looking in the right direction as Esmarelda braced her arm on the side of the doorframe and leaned against it, breathing heavily to catch her breath.
“I heard a commotion and Madiv went running. What’s going on?” Esmerelda rasped.
“Another one!” Wallace exclaimed. “How? Where are you all coming from?”
Esmerelda’s eyes snapped over to the dwarf. They widened and she hurriedly straightened up, brushing her clothes off and clearing her throat as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
“An old bag,” Wallace replied.
“That I may be, but I’m an old bag with wares,” Esmerelda said, a wry smile splitting her features. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of your kind, but I vividly recall you have quite a taste for liquor. I happen to have some old dwarven mead. Sealed. Not touched in nearly a century. Perhaps I could—”
“Tempting, but I must pass. I have a duty to attend to,” Wallace said. He glanced at Lillia out of the corners of his eyes. “And I believe my tastes may have been permanently spoiled.”
Esmerelda gaped at him. She looked from the dwarf to Madiv, then back to the dwarf. Then she rubbed her eyes.
Lillia nodded to the portal. “There’s a bottle with your name on it if you just teach Arwin and skip all the other crap.”
“That would be a bribe,” Wallace said, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think my honor so weak?”
Wallace hesitated for an instant. Then he swore under his breath and coughed into his fist. “Let’s just get this over already. You’ve ruined the weight of the process, you know that? The sanctity of the ritual is destroyed. It is meant to be revered, not mocked.”
“Does that mean we can all come?” Reya asked hopefully. “If it’s dead, it can’t hurt to beat the corpse.”
“No.” Wallace leveled a glare at her. Then he stepped through the portal and sent an expectant look back at Arwin and Lillia. “You two. That’s it. Nobody else.”
“Can you even come?” Arwin asked with a frown. “I mean, leaving your tavern—”
“As long as it’s not for too long, I’ll be fine,” Lillia said.
The rest of the Menagerie looked prepared to argue, but Arwin lifted a hand. She’d made her decision, and having all of them pile in after him would just leave their street undefended.
“It’s fine,” Arwin said, giving them a smile. “Don’t think so poorly of me. I’d like to think I won’t have any trouble passing. Wallace isn’t going to have a reason to fight, so there’s nothing to be concerned about.”
All the wind left everyone’s sails in a fell swoop.
“Fine,” Reya muttered. “But you better come back, okay?”
“Do you really think he could keep us from coming back to you guys?” Arwin asked with a smile, ruffling Reya’s hair, much to her annoyance. “We’ll be back soon enough.
“I’m right here, you know,” Wallace said.
“You’re the cause of the problem,” Lillia said, crossing her arms. “You don’t get to complain. Not if you want to dine at my inn again.”