As it turned out, people forgot about nearly dying quite quickly when free food and drink was involved. It only took minutes for the entirety of the Devil’s Den to devolve into a party. Drunken adventurers staggered around, tankards sloshing with drink, as loud conversation rang through the air.
The entirety of the kitchen had come to life to help Lillia cook, and even that didn’t seem like it would be enough to keep up with demand. Knives chopped, pans sauteed, and bowls of ingredients stirred themselves.
Arwin tried to go in to offer his help, but a stray broom shooed him out before he could say anything. It seemed that the Devil’s Den was just as jealous of its master as the Infernal Armory was of him.
He was relegated to a table in the corner of the room, but Arwin couldn’t complain. They could finally rest. The Mesh itself had confirmed that Twelve’s death had gone unnoticed. His guild would doubtlessly look into what had happened, but their alibi was ironclad.
A shadow fell over Arwin. He glanced up as Rodrick lowered himself into the chair across from Arwin. His hands were wet with water, having been freshly washed.
The warrior wordlessly slid a metal bracelet across the table to Arwin. It had two prongs that curled up to hold a gemstone that no longer resided within it.
“The Infernal Armory has been fed,” Rodrick informed Arwin, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony.
Arwin’s shoulders relaxed. The last dredges of tension that had been gripping him slipped away as he picked the bracelet up and slipped it into a pocket. Rodrick had executed the very last part of their plan. Twelve’s body had been disposed of, as had the gemstone that had turned his appearance into that of a demon. There was nothing left to tie him to their guild. They were free.
“Good,” Arwin said, taking the bracelet and putting it into a pocket. He nodded out to the party. “You might as well go find Anna and relax, eh? I think we’ve all earned a day off.”
“You do if you want the arm to work exactly how a normal one does.”
The dwarf stared at Arwin for a moment. Then he swallowed. “Arwin. You made a working arm? A complete replacement?”
“Yeah,” Arwin replied, catching onto the shock in Wallace’s tone and shifting in his chair so he could completely face the dwarf. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me there’s some stupid dwarven law about this.”
“Do people know?” Wallace demanded, grabbing Arwin by the shoulders.
“I — what? Yes. They probably saw Olive use it just a few hours ago when she grabbed the demon we accidentally let escape.”
“You let a demon escape?” Wallace blinked, then shook his head. “Why did you — actually, I don’t care. You can give me that story later. Do people know Olive was missing an arm?”
“Some do. She’s been missing an arm for a while and she’s lived in town for a bit. Would you tell me what the problem is with giving someone back a missing limb? Am I about to have a problem or not?”
“With the council? No. And I’m not sure if problem is the word I’d use either.” Wallace said slowly. “For your sake, I hope this is something you can replicate. Healing magic can do a lot of things, but it can’t regenerate what isn’t there. It can’t bring back missing limbs. But if what you’re telling me is true… you can. I forgot about your baffling method of forging and that strange smithy of yours. Can you do more than just an arm?”
Arwin stared at Wallace for several long seconds. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I should be able to.”
Wallace swallowed heavily. “Prepare yourself, lad. Once word spreads about this — and spread it will — You’re going to have a lot of attention at your door. Every single adventurer with a missing limb, every single person with a bodily ailment that healing magic can’t fix, they’re all about to be knocking at your door. You’ve made yourself into the most specialized healer in the kingdom.”
Arwin’s skin prickled.
Oh, shit. I did not think this through.
“That was quite the showing, wouldn’t you say?” Selen asked, leaning against the wall of the Devil’s Den. The shadows hung over her shrouded form like a second cloak, and not a single one of the adventurers near her or her companion noticed them.
Xiodan smiled. “Quite. I thought they might be something interesting the first time I laid eyes on them, and it seems my instincts were correct. You were right to call me here. I wish I could have seen the fight against a demon. Can you really believe that they fought one in the middle of town?”
“I did not witness the fight, but the rumors seem accurate,” Selen said. “The Menagerie’s Guildmaster is… interesting. The entire guild is.”
“So they are,” Xiodan said. “I wish to see more of what they are capable of. I approve of your request. The rumors have made it evident that several of their members have potential to be individually ranked, and I want to see their strength for myself. Invite them to the Proving Grounds.”
“As combatants?” Selen asked.
Xiodan snorted. “No. As amusing as it would be to watch a crafting guild go up against combat ones, I am more interested in their true capabilities. Invite them as what they are. A crafting guild. They will be partnered with a combat guild.”
“It will be as you ask.” Sellen bowed her head. “Which guild? I suspect they will ask to know before they agree to anything.”
“I want to see what they’re truly capable of. We need a suitable challenge.” Xiodan tilted his head to the side and tapped a finger against his thigh. “Who got last place in the last tournament?”
“I believe it was the Phoenix Circle.”
“Ah, yes. I remember them. They were painful to watch. Remind me why they were allowed in the tournament in the first place?”
“They were considerably more talented before their Guild Leader died. They are likely to lose their ranking this year. The only reason they didn’t the last time was due to a technicality.”