The sight of teenagers carrying glass-cocooned soldiers took Siege by surprise. He didn’t realize Shelby could work that fast and he wondered how they coaxed her into securing the soldiers. Yesterday, only four of the soldiers were wrapped in their glass prisons. Now, it seemed all of them shared the same fate.

“Heading to Bountiful?” he greeted a familiar face. Was it Dylan?

“Yes, Mister Dwarf,” Dylan answered. “Duke sent a message — told us to pack ‘em up and send ‘em to the city.”

The trail of cocooned soldiers passed by the two as they talked. Siege noted an escort consisting of three snails the size of ponies — one with a small kid riding on top of it.

“The soldiers seem relieved,” he noted. Were they that quick to accept their fates?

“Prob’ly the Scourge put the fear in ‘em,” chuckled Dylan. “After making them use the Lifesavers™ — the wizard offered to drill a hole for their asses.”

Siege frowned. There were probably missing contexts to the kid’s story.

“Anyway, got to go. These things are heavy, ya know?”

The dwarf waved off the kid. He locked eyes with the soldier Dylan was carrying as the boy passed him. Siege saw the wide-open eyes and the hint of frothing at the mouth.

He wondered who would be left at the Corner Shop™. The wizard said they would be going on a trip for the enchantments and he heard one of the boys mention Sebas’ absence in passing.

Then again, the shop had its protector and it would take a small army to deal with that mollusk monstrosity.

He turned back to look at the kid riding the pony-sized snail. Maybe I should get myself one of those.

***

Lord Randson paced in his room, worry evident in his face.

His men arrived at the gates — defeated and bound in glass — headed to the duke’s estate.

He was sure at least one of them talked.

He imagined one of his men spilling their guts out to the Scourge. By the description of their faces, some of them were probably gutted and tortured.

To think they lost to a snail.

One of his contacts alerted them to the defeat almost immediately after it was reported to the duke. The Scourge didn’t even have to lift a hand — the accursed snail defeated his troops on its own.

A sliver of lucidity calmed him down.

The duke wouldn’t be able to tie the soldiers to him. He could simply deny knowledge of their actions or tell the council that what the soldiers did — they did so on their own. The duke would be suspicious, but he would not side with rabble — especially with other nobles watching.

The duke would preside over the council meeting tomorrow — and the Scourge would be brought in front of them. He could even justify his soldiers’ actions as a preemptive attack on the wizard, brought on by his impatience as the city hesitated to pass judgment.

Yes — tomorrow would be his day.

He would muster his connections to influence the rest of the council to make sure the Scourge was held accountable for his actions.

The council would strip him of his wealth and freedom — and soon his dignity and life.

Knowledge of the wizard’s miraculous healing drops would be shared among the council and his precious snail would likely be subdued or killed.

He craved to see the look on the Scourge’s face when he takes everything away from him.

“Alfonse!” he roared, knowing that his butler would hear him from the next room. “Send for the messengers.”

***

Jeremy winced at the thought of facing a council of nobles. The sound of prattling and preening elites were akin to the infernal voices in his head — no, they were far more irritating.

He doubted the duke would appreciate it if he just shut them off like he did the voices. He could just stand there and smile and let the duke do most of the talking.

Eager footsteps marked the arrival of the dwarf.

Jeremy chuckled — the dwarf would be a good distraction. He would dazzle him with displays of power and words of wisdom. Sebas said they needed more personnel, and the dwarf was a willing — albeit, temporary — minion.

“I’m here Mister Scourge, sir,” Siege bellowed, mirth clearly on his face.

Jeremy considered the dwarf standing before him. What was it about dwarves and weapons? Whatever it was — this one had it bad.

“Show me what you’ve forged.”

The dwarf carefully drops his pack, removing several ores before displaying a plain unadorned longsword.

Jeremy took the proffered weapon, noting its balance and keenness of edge. It was practical — devoid of the ornamentation that riddled most weapons. Even the hilt and crossguard were painfully bland and utilitarian.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Did you make this?”

“Most certainly!” answered the proud dwarf. “The weapon has a steel core with a layer of quicksilver for sharpness and durability.”

“No axes? I thought dwarves were all axes and hammers?”

“Bah!” Siege spat. “That’s an inaccurate misrepresentation.”

“Oh?”

“Yes! The hammers I could excuse,” the dwarf explained. “Some dwarves would carry hammers with them in battle, marking them as weaponsmiths or armorers — but those hammers are meant to strike metal, not flesh and bone.”

“And the axes?”

“Don’t get me started on axes,” warned the riled-up dwarf. “Why would any decent fighter choose an axe over a sword? Some adventurers probably saw a dwarf lord’s honor guard — they have bardiches, you know — not axes.

“I see.”

Now he knew something more about dwarves and their preferred weapons. And speaking of preferred weapons —

“So what kind of enchantment do you want on this sword?” Jeremy started to swing the sword, as if battling hordes of peasants.

He could hear their screaming in his ears, the lamentation of their women, and the helpless cries of the dying as they begged for death —

“You really shouldn’t do that,” the dwarf warned as he pried off the sword out of the wizard’s hands.

They struggled for a moment before the wizard eventually let go of the sword.

“Fine,” Jeremy pouted. The sword was too short anyway. He needed something longer if he wanted to strike at people while riding Shelby. Maybe a spear or a lance?

“The enchantment,” he turned back to the dwarf. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Something similar to the dagger,” Siege pointed.

Jeremy frowned. That dagger took a lot of work. He was toiling for almost a full day just compressing its components — no, he didn’t have the motivation or the time to make another weapon like it.

“That dagger is a bit special,” he confessed. “Maybe after a few more enchantments.”

He handed Siege a piece of stone.

“I need you to secure that to your sword — preferably somewhere it won’t get dislodged.”

“That’s easy enough,” Siege replied. “I’ll need a proper forge for some metalwork.”

“Fair enough.”

Jeremy led Siege out of the Corner Shop™. He saw Warden seemingly playing with Shelby and called him out to tend to the shop. Funny name — Warden.

He chuckled, remembering the boy’s father’s name was Wentworth —Warden seemed like a step in the right direction.

The two entered a small shack at the back of the house. The dwarf seemed aghast at having a forge in a plain wooden shack. Jeremy just smiled as he opened the door.

“Where’s the forge? The bellows? How do you even heat metal?” Siege complained. “All you have is an anvil and a… What is that a vase?”

Jeremy just walked to the vase — doing it slowly to hold the dwarf’s attention.

“There,” the wizard gestured and light erupted from the vase, flickering tongues of flame emerging from its opening.

“The forge from the fires of hell — that’s Nelindrak, or hell 784-a.”

Siege approached the strange vase. He disassembled the sword, separating the blade from the crossguard, hilt, and pommel.

“Is there any way to focus the heat? I might damage the entire blade.”

“Of course, of course,” Jeremy beamed. He touched the side of the base and made swiping motions. The fire narrowed with each of his swipes until only a thin line of fire remained.

“Small enough?”

The dwarf could only nod as he marveled at the strange forge.

He went to work — melting a tiny portion of the blade end to affix the stone. He then went to his pack for a small ingot of silver, using it after melting to cover the strange stone.

“That’s it?”

“No that was the easy part,” Jeremy answered. “I did say we had to travel, didn’t I?”

***

Siege battled a four-armed demon with pincers for hands as the wizard watched. He expected a supply run when the wizard mentioned traveling — which is why he brought all the ores and metals they could possibly need. He didn’t plan on taking a trip to the abyss.

“Die mortal!” Jeremy screamed as the demon roared. “You’ve met your end at the hands of Urdir the Wicked.”

“What are you doing?” Siege roared at the wizard. Did he want me to die in this place? But why? And who is this Urdir the Wicked?

“Oh?” Jeremy smirked. “I’m translating. Don’t you want to know what your opponent is saying?”

“Shut it!”

Siege would shake his head if he wasn’t trying to keep it. He heard the wizard roar at the beast — probably translating his words.

The demon stopped roaring and focused on its attacks — its face looking even grimmer.

“Did you just tell the demon to shut it?”

“Why of course. Translation goes both ways.”

Siege grit his teeth — there was no understanding the Scourge.

The demon kept pressing him — but Siege was getting accustomed to its attack patterns and variations. It would be over soon.

Desperate, the demon paused its attack. It reared its head, taking a deep breath.

“It’s going to breathe fire,” Jeremy warned.

Siege raised his shield — a loaner from the Scourge. He said it belonged to Sebas, but his butler didn’t need to use it in his daily activities. The shield was supposed to protect him from magic or its effects. He had no choice but to trust his words.

The demon spewed a line of fire directed at the dwarf. Siege blocked it with the shield and was fairly surprised at the outcome. He didn’t even feel the heat — as if the fire was sucked in.

“Ohhh, might and fire — check.”

Charging the fire-breathing demon, Siege stabbed his sword into its unprotected belly before carving his sword upwards nearly slicing the demon in two.

He collapsed almost as soon as the demon fell — lacking in strength to even check if it was still alive.

“So that demon will make your sword fiery and give you a boost in strength,” Jeremy started. “You want it?”

Siege just glared at him.

“Okay, next one then.”

The wizard tossed him a red drop before opening another gate. Instead of a fiery landscape, this one seemed more like a desert.

“What are you waiting for?” Jeremy prodded. “Eat your drop and get in. We don’t have all day.”

Siege could only eat the drop and head to the gate — a part of his being dying in the process.

After four demons, he was just about ready to agree on whatever enchantment the wizard offered.

Might and Fire, Hardiness and Corrosion, Regeneration and Water-Breathing, and now Immunity to Poison and a Poison Attack — he was ready to take one with knitting and singing if it would mean a stop to the battles.

“Enough. No more,” he pleaded.

“Just the one,” Jeremy insisted. “You’ll like this one.”

The wizard’s words left him in a daze. What kind of demon did he have in mind?