Rise of the Living Forge

Chapter 166: Feather

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arwin said through a groan.

“I take it that means you have,” Reya said. She looked back down at the letter in her hands, then let out a curse. “Well, shit. That means Charles wasn’t lying. I know being blacklisted is bad, but I’m not sure as to the extent. Can we just… stop working with this guy?”

“I don’t think it works that way.” Olive tapped her fingers on the hilt of her sword and let out a sigh. “Does the letter say we’ve already been blacklisted? Or we were going to be?”

“Already,” Reya said.

Blacklisting someone was a drastic measure to take when someone had completely disrespected a guild or was standing in complete opposition to them. It wasn’t something that should be happening to someone that literally spoke to another person a single time. Granted, he wasn’t particularly concerned about being blacklisted — it wasn’t like the Ardent guild was that powerful, but it was still a major annoyance that could cause problems in the long run.

Makes me wonder why they hate Madiv so much. He said his class changed… I wonder if he kept any abilities from his former combat class. If he did, I wonder if he went around killing a bunch of their members for some reason.

“So what do we do?” Reya asked. She pulled her hood back and chewed her lower lip. “I could try to ask Charles to help us get out from under the blacklist.”

“Why?” Arwin asked. “They’re the ones that decided to start shit with us. Talking to somebody isn’t justification for blacklisting them. I’m not going to let assholes throw their weight around and control what we do. It’s not like they were supplying us before. All we have to do is make sure our own supplier can get the materials we need and we’ll be fine.”

“Am I making too much of a stretch in assuming that our supplier is the merchant you spoke to yesterday, who also happens to be named Madiv?” Reya asked, squinting at Arwin. “The same merchant that got blacklisted himself for doing something so heinous that the Ardent Guild blacklists anyone he speaks to? The one that’s so horrible at his job that he needs me to somehow teach him how to sell stuff?”

“I don’t know enough about them to call them a gang, but yes.”

“Then you’ve got everything right.”

Reya puffed up her cheeks and let out a slow breath of air. “Right. Okay. I’ll do my best. Do we know when I’m meant to meet him the first time? I might have to take some time to get my thoughts together. Something tells me this isn’t going to be easy.”

Well, at least nobody can say that the streets didn’t hone her instincts.

“I have no idea,” Arwin admitted. “I imagine it won’t be long, though. He’ll probably show up soon enough. I don’t know if it’ll be before we head out to the dungeon. I’ve only spoken with him once, and he’s a bit… difficult to read.”

“That’s usually a polite way to say someone is insane.”

“Is it, now?” Arwin asked innocently. “Well, I’ve got a fair amount of work to get done today. Now that we’ve put in the application to get the guild formalized, there’s nothing to keep me from getting to work on some armor for Anna. Before I can head back, I’m going to need to look around a little. I need to get my hands on a feather.”

“I suppose we’ll head back to the tavern, then,” Olive said. She blew out a breath and shook her head. “Maybe that dungeon is going to end up being safer than sticking around Milten.”

“Let me know if you need me or if you find Madiv,” Reya said. “I’ll be in the tavern with Olive brushing up on just about every dirty trick in the book I know.”

“I want you to teach him how to be a merchant, not a thief.”

Reya flashed Arwin a grin. “I’m thinking there might not be too much of a difference between the two. I suppose we’ll have to find out.”

With that, she pulled her hood back up. She and Olive nodded to Arwin and headed off to make their way back to the Devil’s Den. Arwin tapped his fingers against his greaves in thought as he watched them leave.

I could probably find a feather on the ground somewhere, but that would take forever. Maybe it would be faster if I just went and found a store that sells bits and bobs. There should be a place for apothecaries or the like. Weird stuff goes into potions. A bird feather should be on the list — and maybe I can get something fancier than one of the disease-ridden creatures that live in Milten.

That actually seemed quite promising. A store that sold random bits and bobs from monsters would actually be perfect for him. He doubted it would have anything particularly rare or powerful, but it would be a good spot to start.

Now all I have to do is find one. Milten isn’t a huge town, but it’s far from small. I’m sure there should be a store that sells what I need somewhere in it.

***

Arwin stood before a rickety old door and squinted suspiciously at the cracked sign hanging above it that pictured a cauldron, so faded by time that it was little more than a brown smudge.

The building around the door wasn’t in much better shape. It was almost entirely made out of rotting wood with a few bricks scattered haphazardly throughout it to give the semblance of some structural integrity. A slanted roof with shingles that stuck in every direction but the right one was perched precariously at the top of the house, threatening to pitch forward and fall off at the first opportunity.

As far as Arwin could tell, the entire house’s greatest enemy would probably be a slight gust of wind. Its only saving grace was that the ratty hut was so short that the wind would probably break on the larger stone buildings long before reaching its shoddily constructed walls.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

And yet, as awful as the building was, Arwin could just barely make out shelves stuffed full of a huge assortment of random items through the single dirty window at the shop’s front. It was the closest thing he’d seen to what he was looking for in the last hour of wandering around Milten.

Sure, it was tucked into the darkest alleyway he’d passed through and the only reason Arwin had even spotted it was because a shingle had nearly nailed him on the top of the helm as he’d passed, but it was there nonetheless.

Huh. Lucky me.

Arwin pushed the door open with a loud creak and stepped inside. He was forced to duck as he stepped into the building to avoid accidentally tearing off the top of the doorframe. The smell of musty books and stale air hit him like a hammer, joined by the distant acrid scent of what might have been burnt hair.

He carefully stepped over a pile of assorted garbage and scanned over the shelves in search of a feather. Preserved flowers, bottles with insects preserved within murky brown fluid, and everything from cups to old swords littered the shelves. There was certainly no shortage of trash.

There has to be a good feather in here somewhere.

He stepped around a shelf blocking his view of the rest of the shop and nearly slipped on an open book. Arwin caught himself at the last moment, then realized he wasn’t alone in the shop. An elderly woman sat on a stool in the corner, behind a counter covered with more random items and cast in the shadow of a shelf.

Her face looked like it had been the scene of a bloody battle that nobody had won. It was covered with pockmarks that ran all the way down her pointed nose. Her lips split apart to give him a grin, revealing a mouth full of crooked, uncomfortably thin teeth.

“Well, hello there,” the woman croaked. She coughed into a fist, then slowly rose from her stool. Her hand found a cane resting against the wall beside her and she leaned against it, hobbling forward and out of the shadow. “It has been far too long since someone has graced the walls of my humble abode with their presence. Would you tell me your name so I know to whom I speak?”

You live here?

“You can call me Ifrit,” Arwin said idly, his eyes still focused on scanning the rickety shop for a feather. He had strong hopes of finding one before the roof came down on top of both him and the old woman. Even though he was pretty sure his body was more than resilient enough to withstand the rot-ridden wood if it fell on him, it wasn’t an experience he was hoping to partake in.

“The visage of a demon? A bold name,” the old woman said with a mixture between a cough and a laugh. She stepped out from behind the counter, moving one laborious step at a time. “My name is Esmerelda. Tell me, Ifrit. What is it that you seek? Magi—”

“A feather.”

Esmeralda blinked, then let a smile crawl across her weathered features. “Ah, yes. A tale as old as time. I have what you desire, young man. I have all you desire.”

Poor old lady sounds like she’s had a rough time of things. People must not come by here too often, and the way she speaks is ridiculously outdated. I wonder how old she is. Seems nice enough, though.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Where’s the feather?” Arwin asked.

Esmerelda hobbled over to a shelf and stuck her hand into it, rooting around the pile of junk for a few seconds before pulling it out with a flourish. A long, glistening red feather was pinched between her fingers. It was trimmed with bright yellow that rippled in a mesmerizing pattern like an illusionary flame.

“The feather of a phoenix,” Esmerelda breathed, holding her prize aloft. “A rare, powerful item that was once gifted as a gesture of luck. I suppose this one didn’t quite bear all that much of it, as it found itself in these dusty old walls after its master fell.”

Ah, damn. That does look like quite the feather… but anything that powerful is going to screw over Anna’s armor. I don’t need phoenix traits. It would probably end up being fire related or something, and then Anna wouldn’t be able to wear it. I need a normal feather.

“It’s very nice,” Arwin said politely.

“It could be yours, my dear child,” Esmerelda said, her grin widening. “And all I ask in return is—”

“I don’t need that, though.”

Esmerelda blinked. She lowered the feather slightly, a frown crossing her lips. “You don’t? What feather could be better than that of a phoenix?”

“That’s the problem,” Arwin said. He walked closer to her and gestured to the feather. “I kind of just need a normal feather. A nice one, but a normal one.”

Esmerelda stared at him. “You would choose an ordinary feather over a plume plucked from a legendary phoenix?”

“Well, yes. I need it for a purpose. That one is too fancy.”

“I see. A difficult customer, but I know your desires,” Esmerelda said. She slipped the feather back into the shelf and turned toward another one. The shelf wobbled with a creak and a pot perched at its top slid off, plummeting straight for the old woman’s head. Arwin’s hand shot out and he grabbed it an inch before it could land on top of her.

“Whoa,” Arwin said. “Careful. You don’t want to get brained.”

I don’t think you’d survive a light breeze any better than your house would, forget a falling pot.

Esmerelda flinched back and stared at the pot in Arwin’s hand. She looked from it to him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

The pot didn’t actually end up hitting her, did it?

“Are you okay?” Arwin asked.

“I — yes. I am fine,” the woman said in a befuddled tone. She slowly took the pot from Arwin’s hands and stared down at it. “You prevented this from striking me.”

“Yeah. You should be careful. You might get injured if you walk around this place without paying attention. There’s a lot here.”

“I… have collected great riches in my times. More than what most could ever comprehend,” Esmerelda said, but her voice didn’t sound in it. She set the pot down and hobbled over to another shelf, pulling out a plain white feather. Her eyes bored into it. Then she turned to Arwin. “A feather.”

“A normal one?”

“The plainest feather of the plainest dove.”

“Perfect,” Arwin said with a grin. “You’ve got more feathers than I thought you would. How much for it?”

Esmerelda looked from the feather to Arwin. Her brow was so furrowed in confusion that he feared that she might accidentally squeeze her eyes out. He hurriedly pulled out a gold coin from his pouch. The last thing he wanted was the old woman getting a heart attack in front of him.

“Here. This should be enough, right?”

Arwin pressed the coin into her hand and took the feather from her fingers. Esmerelda gave him a mute nod of agreement and he grinned.

“Perfect. Thank you, Esmerelda. Have a good day. Oh, by the way, do you have more feathers?”

“I — yes. Do you seek one of great power?” Some of the energy returned to her tone. “Simply speak it and—”

“No, nothing like that. I just might need more plain ones later.” With that, Arwin raised a hand in farewell and headed out of the store, shutting the door gently behind himself so as to avoid mistakenly causing an avalanche and burying Esmerelda in her own goods.

She seemed like a nice lady. I’ve never met a store owner so eager to help before. If this feather actually works the way I hope it will, I’ll give her another visit. I’ve heard people get really lonely when they’re older, so she might appreciate the company.

Arwin looked down at the feather in his hand and grinned.

I can worry about that later. For now, I’ve got what I need to get started on Anna’s armor. This should be fun.