Chef was beginning to understand the excitement and annoyance involved in smithing. His problems were largely generated out of a lack of foresight or a complete absence of any and all patience, but that didn’t make them any less annoying. If anything, it being more than partly his fault made it all even more aggravating.

His breastplate was eventually finished and he made a second piece for his back without any issues. Then he realized that he had nothing to fasten the armor together and that his back and chest were very different shapes now. It was probably all the milk, cheese, and cream he’d been eating lately.

Chef’s growing stomach aside, he had a lot to figure out before he could wear any armor. First, he tried his thatch ropes, but they simply lacked the strength to hold up the metal without breaking. His second thought was more metal, but that remained hard and inflexible.

Eventually, Chef accepted that he’d need to look over some human creations and ask more questions if he wanted to get anywhere. They had annoyed him, sure. Betrayed him, maybe. But they were knowledgeable on so many subjects. They knew so much about so many boring things that he couldn’t be fucked to learn the hard way.

So fine, he’d go feed those lazy shits, make sure they’re done or nearly done with the mill, and figure out how to fasten heavy things together without mortar. Otherwise, he’d have to go to his backup plan which was to use mortar.

He really didn’t want to do that. As nice as it sounded to have armor, he would like to be able to remove it at some point.

And so, Chef made his way back to the village, once again holding a cauldron filled with dead animals and wild onions. He walked slowly the whole way, constantly on the lookout for the fearsome predator he now knew was lurking within. Any shadow could be deadly. Each rustling of grass the last thing he ever heard.

When he finally passed the tree line, he heaved a sigh of relief.

That was a close one.

Not a single creature so much as looked at him during his entire trip which might make some people question his definition of “close.”

Regardless, Chef made his way to the town entrance while admiring the large brick structure that had nearly finished forming. In the distance he could see humans running around, yelling orders and directions to other running humans as brick and mortar were carted to the townspeople.

Wait. They’re using brick to build this thing. And mortar. I haven’t seen a single cart arrive in town since I got here. Those fuckers lied to me! They do know how to make mortar and where to find limestone! Just for that, they’re not getting any green stuff.

Resigning the townspeople to a fate worse than death, lunch without onions, Chef walked the rest of the way into town.

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“Lumber!”

Fresk was running as quickly as he could to ensure that the message reached every ear in town. They’d set up the code word days ago, making sure that everyone knew what it meant.

The beast returned. They had to make sure it suspected nothing. If they failed, they died. It was that simple.

Everyone responded quickly to the shouted code word, so much so that it actually made Fresk proud. They’d done a couple of drills this week to make sure that everyone could do their part, and today they got to reap the rewards.

A group quickly got to loading a cart with wood, the surface level request being met. Others went about disguising themselves to look like other people, prepared to eat two servings of food. But most importantly, a small welcoming group was heading over to usher the creature into town as quickly as possible.

A family had only left town a couple hours ago and they couldn’t risk the beast’s vision spotting them from the distance. It had to focus up on the distractions they had set up. They had to ensure that it saw the mill construction meeting schedule even if they’d lost a third of their workers to evacuation.

The cart filled with wood began to make its way over to the mill as Therace rushed to get in front of it. The cook had been making good on his promise, if it could be called that. They all had been. Longer work days, working harder each day, fewer breaks, why they were honestly working themselves to death.

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But the results were worth it. As Fresk finished warning the town and made his way back to the construction site, he could see it for himself. The structure had been finished, a large silo of brick built nearly fifteen feet high. It had been designed to serve as both storage and production, since keeping the flour and grain in a dry location had long been a problem for their community. If they were to be forced into building something for the monster, then they might as well get the most value out of it that they could.

They’d been waiting for the creature to arrive to execute the finishing touches, otherwise their code word would have been outed for the ruse it was. As Therace described the structure and design to the beast, the final sizing and cutting of lumber was being performed.

Pretty soon they’d be able to slot in the handle for grinding and get to work. The creature’s timing was quite good in that sense, but Fresk still wished for more time. They hadn’t managed to gather much of the wheat to feed the thing, and he was sure it would demand them to make flour immediately.

He’d finally gotten close enough to make out the conversation, barely in time to hear the tail end of it.

“…so we can show you the operation later, assuming you’re still around. It should only be a few hours until it’s ready to operate.”

The monster seemed happy with that, or at least pleased. Not that it was easy to tell through the bizarre animal skulls it always wore.

“Good. I will feed you as a reward.”

Its speaking had grown increasingly sophisticated as well, demonstrating a remarkable ability to learn. The creature made good on its offer, heading into the middle of town and cooking immediately. The food preparation and cooking took hours, a total of three passing by before the last bowl was handed out. He knew that some of the people that went up for a bowl of the second and third batches had already had a bowl or two, but admittedly even he couldn’t see through their disguises.

The technique seemed to work, fooling the beast. They’d realized that an hour simply wasn’t enough time to form a convincing disguise let alone purge the massive amounts of food they’d be expected to eat. But it was enough time to remove a disguise.

By now nearly everyone had gathered up from the entire town, whether the beast knew it or not. The first round had been over a dozen well disguised townspeople with the second round mostly being those same people sans the costume. Those not busy working on the mill peppered in here and there to help sell the disguises. When the final round came, they called in every man, woman, and child to ensure that the pot would be emptied.

And so, most everyone was present when it asked its question.

“I need to connect two heavy things. How would you do that?”

The crowd was quiet for only a moment before suggestions started pouring in.

“You could use rope to tie them together, depending on how heavy and how much rope you have.”

Cautiously at first since no one knew the nature of the questioning. Was this a test or did it have a problem in need of solving? Either way, the answers were given after deliberation.

“Or you could use mortar to stick them together permanently. That works even with heavy stone.”

The crowd seemed to buzz slightly, but ultimately the group was proud of their conclusion.

“Heavy and thin, so rope breaks from the weight. It must be loosened regularly and unfixed, so mortar cannot be used. What else is there?”

A genuine question then, Fresk suspected. From the sounds of it, the creature was trying to fasten armor. Armor it had likely taken from the corpse of that child it killed weeks ago.

His fist and jaw clenched together as the crowd quieted down to a murmur. They all knew that it was arming itself from that description. These people weren’t stupid, and they’d seen his armor often enough to recognize the description for what it was.

But they couldn’t not answer. It didn’t need armor to slaughter everyone here, that much was certain, but some of them still held out hope. Larese had taken Mirri to see the Church of Argens to the west, between Morrisville and Oakview. It was a week long trip for an adventurer, but for the mother and child that would take another two. In total, over a month had passed without word from the church and most had lost hope.

Most, but not all. It was obvious in the faces present that some still hoped for a group of believers to walk into town armed and ready to kill this monster.

Fresk had to make a decision, but he’d made up his mind weeks ago.

“You use leather chord for fastening then. It’s stronger than normal rope and can be loosened to take the armor off.”

He gave the answer himself, hopeful that would be the end of it. But his hopes had been crushed nonstop by this beast, and today would be no different.

“Good. Who can make leather chord? Show me, and I will give honey and garlic.”

Damn! This was bad. The tanners had been evacuated just three days ago, their services deemed some of the least likely to be missed this time of year.

No one here can tan and work leather to the degree needed to make fasteners for armor. I’ve lived here long enough to know that. But no town is without a tanner, not this far out. If we don’t have one, it will grow suspicious immediately. Meaning there’s no other choice.

“Sir Chef,” he said, voice catching in his throat. This was the hardest thing he’d done in years, the act of a complete coward. He knew that, but he also knew that there was no other choice. He couldn’t reveal their evacuation plans or they would all die. He’d just have to put his best defense on the line to save these people.

“I have armor held with leather chord fasteners. I can show you how they work and give them to you.”

The point of armor was to defend, after all. At least it would be able to do that job one last time.