Wooden wheels rattled against old cobblestone. They ground to a halt, punctuated by a thunk as Arwin released the handles of the wagon and let out a weary sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of a hand.

His cart was completely stuffed full of materials. Brick, mortar, everything he needed to start construction on the smithy with even more reserved at the mason’s shop. In addition, he’d bought 3 ingots of Brightsteel and a whetstone for himself. He’d also brought back a barrel of oil and a large crate of ingredients for Lillia.

Reya hopped off the top of the cart. “Thanks for the ride.”

“I never offered one,” Arwin said dryly. Reya just flashed him a grin and headed into the tavern.

“Lillia! Come look what we got!” Reya called, her voice muffled as she headed deeper into the tavern in search for the former demon queen. “Arwin has a gift for you!”

“Oh?” Lillia’s voice joined Reya’s and the two of them poked their heads out of the tavern a second later.

Did Reya really have to word it like that?

“I got some ingredients while I was out,” Arwin said, stepping onto the cart and picking up the crate with a grunt. He dropped down and held it out to Lillia. “Mostly basic stuff. I think. Flour, fresh water, cured meats and spices, the like. Nothing perishable.”

A huge grin split Lillia’s lips. “Thank you. This is fantastic.”

“We’ll get you some more once you give Reya a list of exactly what you need,” Arwin said. “I got a lot of what I needed and we’ve still got 50 gold left over. I honestly might still be underpricing the armor a bit. Brightsteel isn’t cheap – but I made that stuff with what was functionally mixed scrap, and I don’t know if people would pay more for something made by an unknown smith.”

“Relatively unknown,” Reya corrected. “You got recognized!”

“You did?” Lillia asked. “In a good way?”

“Yeah,” Arwin said. “The brother of the first adventurer I sold something to told me that my armor saved his life. We sold the brother one of the chest plates.”

“That’s nice,” Lillia said with a smile. “What about the other piece?”

“Charity,” Reya grumbled.

“Not charity,” Arwin corrected, flicking her in the shoulder. “An investment. There was a one-armed warrior that clearly knew her way around a fight. I gave it to her for 80 gold, but she owes me another 120 for it and a sword once she earns the money.”

“Ah. Getting her hooked, are you?”

“Yep,” Arwin said with a nod. “Though that makes it sound pretty nefarious. I just think pulling in some repeat customers would be beneficial. I need a lot of money, after all.”

“Aside from the materials to repair the smithy and more metal, what else do you need?” Lillia asked.

“Well, money to fix up the tavern as well. Definitely lots of materials and the like as well,” Arwin ticked points off his fingers as he spoke. “I also want to get some guides on smithing. I’ve been bullshitting thus far, but things have slowed down enough for me to start really learning the proper way to do them instead of using the Mesh as a crutch.”

“That could be wise,” Lillia mused. “I wonder if there are any books on proper keeping up a tavern.”

“I’m sure there are,” Reya said. “I could keep an eye out for both, but I try to avoid going inside shops whenever I can.”

“We can ask Rodrick or Anna when they get back from their date,” Lillia said. “They’re still out getting dinner.”

“That’s cute,” Reya said. “Do you think they’re married?”

Lillia’s head tilted to the side, confusion passing over her features. A question seemed to rise to her lips, but it never made it past them.

“They could be,” Arwin said before the silence could turn awkward. “I honestly don’t know. Either that or going to be soon from the way they act.”

“I’ve never been to a wedding before,” Reya said. She paused for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Well, I was actually at one for a very short amount of time. About as long as it took me to nab a piece of cake and run out before they realized I wasn’t invited.”

“Somehow, I could have guessed that,” Arwin said with a snort of laughter. “I’m going to get to working on building up the smithy again. It’s probably going to take a while, and I’d like to move back in as soon as possible.”

“Maybe you should spend some money hiring someone to help you,” Lillia suggested. “You could probably afford it if you can keep making armor at the rate you are right now.”

“That’s a tempting idea,” Arwin admitted. He rubbed his chin. “I’ll look into it tomorrow. Maybe its arrogant, but I want to at least start on my own. The foundations from the old smithy are still there, so I think laying bricks shouldn’t be completely beyond my abilities. I suppose we’ll find out.”

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“Well, let us know if you need help,” Reya said. “In the meantime… Lillia, do you have anything to eat?”

“Yeah. Give me a second.” Lillia headed back into the kitchen. Arwin nodded to Reya, then set out himself. There wasn’t all that much time left in the day and he didn’t want to go and waste it.

He picked the handles of the cart back up and, using [Scourge], dragged it over to the plot of land where his smithy had once stood and would stand again. He set it down and brushed his hands off before climbing on to start ferrying materials over to a more accessible spot.

Arwin took extra care with the jugs of grout. It would have been really annoying if he broke one and had to waste time cleaning it up – not to mention the wasted material. Once he got everything set back up in the smith, he got to work.

The outside wall felt like the most logical spot to start with. It was also the easiest, at least as far as he could tell. It wasn’t like the area he had to build with was changing, and he just wanted a square building.

Arwin knelt on the ground and did his best to clean away all the dirt from the area before him before he started laying bricks with a thin layer of grout on their bottom. Time slipped by. The sun traced overhead and light faded, dipping into the night.

He finished several layers, spending more time than he cared to admit repositioning bricks that ended up being just slightly askew enough to catch his attention. It wasn’t exactly the most professional looking job he’d seen, but it didn’t look terrible.

At least, it doesn’t look terrible yet. I really don’t know that much about what I’m doing. Lillia was right. I should bring someone in that really knows what’s up to work on this tomorrow. I can help them instead of doing something stupid and having to restart.

Arwin brushed his hands and turned back to the tavern. Leaning on the wall of a crumbling building just to his side was the drunkard. He hadn’t even heard the man arrive.

“How long have you been there?” Arwin asked.

“A while.”

“Why?”

“I was watching.”

“That much is evident,” Arwin said. “Why?”

“Did you not want an audience?” the drunkard took a sip from his mug. “If not, you probably shouldn’t be standing around outside. Maybe you should build a house.”

Arwin looked around at the materials surrounding him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“How would I know?” the man took another long swing from his mug. “I wasn’t watching.”

“You literally just said you were.”

“Did I? I must have forgotten.”

Arwin shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or sigh. “Did you just come here to play with words? I was about to head inside and retire for the night, so if there was something you wanted, sooner might be better than later.”

“There are a lot of things I want,” the drunkard said. “I don’t think you can give me any of them, though.”

“Cryptic.”

“I’m a fan of intrigue. Makes things more interesting.” He took one last sip, draining the rest of his mug before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And much easier to forget. You seem to be better at doing that than I am.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the scattered materials behind him. Smudges of ash still marred the stone. No matter how hard he scrubbed, Arwin didn’t think they’d ever come off. “Forget? No. I don’t know if that’s possible. There’s a difference between forgetting something and moving on. Experiences shape you, not define you.”

The drunkard’s lips pursed. He checked his empty mug, then shook his head. “Sure thing. Say, you ever find that kid’s sword?”

Arwin frowned. “No. I assumed it was lost in the fire. How do you–”

The drunkard reached into his ratty coat and pulled out a short sword. Ash marred the handle and the blade was dented and warped. It only took Arwin one look to recognize it.

“That’s Zeke’s,” Arwin said. His eyes narrowed. “Why do you have it?”

“Pulled it out of the fire after things died down.”

“Why?”

“What a stupid question. To sell it. Just seems like it would be a stupid thing to do. Figure the only one that’s going to want this is you.”

He tossed the sword over to Arwin, who caught it by the handle. The Mesh still tingled within the weapon, but it was so badly damaged that its magic effects were nowhere to be seen. Any magic that remained in it was weak at best.

“Thank you,” Arwin said after a second of silence. “I appreciate it.”

“You aren’t all pissy that I took the damn thing?”

“It probably would have been even more damaged if you hadn’t taken it, and you brought it back. Why would I complain about someone righting a wrong? I’d have a problem if you never brought it back.”

“You know what?” the drunkard asked. He sniffled and wiped his nose off on a sleeve. “I’m getting fed up with all your philosophical bullshit. Why can’t you just be a prick? It’s easier that way.”

“I can be an asshole if you want me to be.”

“Bah. It’s not interesting anymore.” the drunkard shook his head and wandered off, muttering under his breath until he faded from view. Arwin looked down at the sword in his hands, a frown creasing his lips and wrinkling his brow.

That’s definitely someone who’s seen his fair share of shit. Wonder what his deal is or why he’s hiding out in a supposedly haunted street. Running from someone? He’s drinking every single time I’ve seen him, so maybe the one he’s running from is himself.

Arwin stepped away from the smithy and set the sword on his cart. He dragged the cart back over to the side of the inn and parked it in a thin alleyway before retrieving the sword and heading inside.

Lillia stood by the bar, her form just barely outlined by flickering orange lanternlight. A woman sat in a stool across from her. He almost mistook her for Reya in the darkness before he caught a glimpse of her arm – or rather, the lack of it. Even her bright red hair was barely visible in the shadows. Arwin’s armor sat on the ground at her side. Apparently Olive had arrived a bit before he’d expected her to.

“Ah. There he is.” Lillia nodded over Olive’s shoulder.

“Am I late?” Arwin asked. He wasn’t wearing his mask yet, but he wasn’t so sure it mattered. The mask had been largely to deal with the Iron Hounds and get some publicity. Figuring out his identity wouldn’t be all that difficult for anyone that was really interested. “I got distracted.”

“Only a little,” Olive said. “It looked like you were a little busy. I didn’t want to disturb you, and you mentioned there was a tavern in the area. I figured it couldn’t hurt to try it out.”

“Oh?” Arwin walked over to join her. A plate sat on the table before her, polished clean. “How’d you like it?”

“Incredible,” Olive said. “But that might have just been because it’s been a while since I last had a hot meal. Can we…”

“Get you your sword and fix up your armor?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the plan,” Arwin said with a nod. “Give me one second.”

He headed up the stairs to his room, setting the sword down by his bed before returning to the common area and waving for Olive to follow him.

“Come with me and we’ll see what I can do for you.”