Beelzebub is the Demon of Plague and Poison. The demon, while one of the weakest demons in combat amongst the original Demons of Solomon, is considered the deadliest. Its powers allow for it to create the most dangerous and virulent toxins that can debilitate mighty Ego Beasts with ease. Beelzebub's poisons and diseases have numerous effects, from a slow decay of one's bones to a hallucinatory poison that puts the victim in an endless nightmare. Most transcendent fighters possess some form of defense against such poisons, but even they would require the support of specialized healing spells and extensive recovery to deal with the various ailments Beelzebub can produce.

~ Deep Dive on the Infamous Demons of Solomon.

"So, what's it like guarding a big ol' vault? Any funny stories you've got for me?"

Alda turned to the curly-haired illusionist with a deadpan look. "Look, I thought it was implied, but you do realize last night was a one-time thing, right? I'm married to my work and not really looking for anything serious right now."

"Oh, no, no, no! I didn't mean it like that. I agree with us not being anything more than friends with benefits. I'm just genuinely curious about what you guys do in a place like this."

He had tagged along with the half-dwarf as she went about her duties after being rudely dismissed by Arber Fistpig. Most of it consisted of paperwork and an occasional meeting, but having Chester consistently pester her had made her somewhat irritated. As a guest of honor along with the prince of Wisperium, she couldn't do anything overtly rude to kick him out.

"Well not much apart from that. Any threats making it into the palace is rare, but that's no excuse for our soldiers to slacken. You've seen the barracks. We often have tournaments between our soldiers, regardless of whether or not the vampires are superior. Iron sharpens iron, as they say."

Alda was currently filing away paperwork and wearing her hair in a much simpler bun. Her eyes scanned the documents, multitasking as she entertained the illusionist. He leaned back into the office chair, stretching his arms above his head and showing a glimpse of his lower stomach.

Chester noticed her subtle stare; an instant flick of her eyes that could be mistaken for her simply glancing off to the side of her paperwork. But he knew better.

"You like what you see?"

"You wish."

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Damien browsed the collection of works before him. Helmets of various shapes and sizes are proudly displayed and hung on the wall. The heat was sweltering inside Welton's Furnace; the iconic building which gave the kingdom its namesake. From afar he could see a massive pillar of flames rising to the ceiling. Dwarves worked tirelessly, with the clanging of hammers on anvils desensitizing the vampire's ears to the sound of metal on metal.

"These are all your creations? For an apprentice, you've surpassed every expectation I had, sir Gannon."

An older dwarf rubbed his hands together, whose face and hair looked aged compared to his compatriots. Even with his slimmer physique, the dwarf was still possessing some muscles that flexed with every move.

"I'm an apprentice only to lord Arber. I've been working tirelessly over the decades and can confidently say I am a master blacksmith. Have you made your choice?" Gannon said. He looked positively ancient compared to the boisterous Arber Fistpig, but from Damien's understanding, the man's aging had slowed after reaching transcendent heights as a blacksmith.

"Well, I'll opt for an open helmet. The closed ones are more protective, but it doesn't seem as wieldy for my style." Damien replied. He knew that the closed helmets which covered his face entirely blocked his peripheral vision, and he didn't enjoy the idea of sacrificing vision for added protection.

The boy picked one at eye level, an open helmet that covered his forehead in a V-shape. The structure protected his ears without obscuring his peripheral vision. It was heavy and a tad bit oversized, but Gannon nodded his head.

"This will form the core of your helmet then. Any additional requests you'd like me to take on?"

"Other than it being made of cold iron, I was wondering if you could design it with cheek guards as well?"

Gannon acuiscesed and began taking measurements. Just as the dwarf was finishing up, Chester walked in from the top of the stairs and thanked the dwarf beside him for leading him there.

"Oh, Damien! You're getting your weapons done?"

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"I'm getting two pieces done. A helmet and a sword once he's done with it. Both cold iron."

"They did say I could get one done as well right? Any idea where I can get it commissioned?"

Gannon was busy creating a blueprint, skillfully drawing with a quill on a piece of parchment for a rough design of Damien's new helmet while they talked. Chester took a subtle glance and raised his brows in respect. The speed at which the man went about sketching the equipment was impressive.

"This top floor is reserved for the master blacksmiths. Just ask around and see if anybody's willing to help you out."

The illusionist shrugged and traversed through the top floor of Welton's Furnace. The floor and walls were made of brick and mortar, capable of withstanding the sweltering heat for centuries without pause. He avoided touching any surface with his bare skin as it felt like a leather car seat during a summer heatwave. His boots gave him enough protection although his armpits and other crevices were perspiring at a steady rate.

"Ah, sorry mate. I'd love to but we're backlogged on some orders. Try askin' Jerry ova' there. He's a bit eccentric but he's a master like the rest of us."

All the dwarves on the upper floor had their own workstations, focusing completely on the tasks at hand. Chester had seen the floors below and they didn't look much different apart from the greater quality equipment and tools surrounding the floor. The illusionist fought the urge to steal the equipment lying around so callously, waiting for a better opportunity later on. Shaking his head, he followed the directions to Jerry's workstation.

What he saw was...interesting. To say the least.

Chester had noticed a pattern amongst the blacksmiths. Some were solely dedicated to armor, while others specialized in weapons. It was fairly easy to tell by their portfolio hanging on the wall. Jerry's previous works were very varied and all seemed eccentric in design and color. From brightly colored horns on a helmet to a flamboyant chest plate with a flower pattern at the center, the aesthetic of the equipment was extremely different from the hardy and simple sets that he'd seen so far.

"Hey, you're Jerry, right?"

A small dwarf turned his head from his work table, showing a full set of pink facial hair. Chester inwardly groaned, mentally preparing himself to deal with another troublesome character.

"Why yes, who may you be?"

"Name's Chester, I got a free commission from the Royal Family since we fixed the recent adamantium mine shortage. Ring a bell?"

Jerry's eyes gleamed in recognition. "Hohoho! I've heard about you lot! The vampire and his servant. Well, my name's Jerry Sharpax. Welcome to my workstation. I'd be glad to take upon your commission."

The man surveyed the pieces of equipment all over. None of them particularly interested him, as he had already made his mind up to get a set of gauntlets. Chester turned to the pink-bearded dwarf and asked him a question.

"You got any gloves or gauntlets?"

"Ah, I do in fact! It's an idea I've been tinkering with for quite some time now. Here, check it out."

The man went underneath his workstation, taking out rows upon rows of blueprints before unraveling one of them. The design was simple in hindsight.; standard metal gauntlets stopping halfway along the forearm. What set it apart from a regular one was a complicated mechanism along the bottom of the wrist.

"This one's got a grappling hook. If you press the button and flick your wrist, it'll fly out and latch onto the nearest surface and pull you towards it. It extends up to ten meters, so it has a lot of applications."

Chester whistled, looking at the design and imaging it clearly in his head. Although he judged Jerry beforehand, he was quite surprised to see the quality and intricacy of the gauntlets he had designed. He gushed over the design and added in some requests of his own, such as forging it from mithril to keep him light and agile. His style was heavily reliant on mobility, so he saw no need for undue weight on his arms.

"Where did you get that set from? It looks quite interesting." Jerry asked. He circled the curly-haired thief and inspected every inch, forcing Chester to flatten the Attainium along his back. He turned and met the man's eyes, trying to play it cool while he figured out a way to hide the Attainium on his body. Thinking quickly he melded it underneath his cloth shirt and secured it to his own body. By forming rings around his shoulders it prevented the liquid metal from falling off his back.

"The founder of Metropolis designed it himself. It's pretty lightweight and I can even fold it after I unlock the latch here." Chester showed off his tactical armor once he finished hiding the Attainium. He showed how convenient it was, being able to equip and unfold a full set of armor within a minute. Jerry seemed intrigued, handling the piece of equipment with a subtle gentleness and flipping it over to analyze the work.

"...I can make some adjustments on this if you'd allow me to. Nothing major. The design is amusing and unconventional. I suppose the blacksmith who created this is self-taught. Not much understanding of the basics."

Chester agreed and gladly handed him the tactical set. The man had told him he would finish it first before beginning his commission with the grappling hook gauntlets. This left the illusionist with only the hilt he used for his Attainium, which he fastened to his hip instead.

During the entire excursion, he had made sure to keep his Attainium under wraps. He was thankful that so far nobody had questioned or even recognized the material, and planned on buying a secondary weapon for himself to keep whenever he didn't want to reveal the Attainium as his true weapon. He figured there'd be no need as they were situated inside of the kingdom at all times.

The illusionist was certain no harm could befall them in such a well-protected fortress-like Welton. It gave him the perfect opportunity to do whatever he pleased.

'Let's see what I can do with this. I'd say...two weeks to see if I can find a way into that Vault?" The man cracked his neck, waiting patiently as the dwarven blacksmith measured his hands with a ruler to get a gauge of how large the equipment should be. Chester wanted to go visit Alda again to learn more but she had said that her duties wouldn't end until later in the evening.

With the measurements done and a short farewell from Jerry, he left with Damien as his next target to bother.

"So, what's your plan for today?"

"I'm going to do some training with Jensen and the others."

Chester groaned. "Are you serious? Always training, you know you can take a break, right?"

"Yesterday was my break. Now it's time to focus before we head onto Garbrandt. You shouldn't be too lax. Otherwise, you're going to get eaten alive there."

The man grumbled. Although he wanted to do something else, he was fairly limited in what he could do. He wanted to be at peak sobriety when doing any sort of intelligence-gathering. Both of them had removed their armor. Even Damien had requested for some adjustments to his armor to be made, showing that despite Elric's genius and talent, it couldn't defeat the skill and experience that these dwarven craftsmen had.

"Fine, I'll do your little training exercise. Don't get mad if I leave you in the dust, though."

Damien shrugged and turned his head away, leading the both of them to the barracks. But as he hid his face he fought back a smirk. He knew that Chester and his paltry END stat would fall to Jensen's training session. He had heard much about the combat veteran's work ethic and wanted to see how the illusionist would fare.