Rise of the Living Forge

Anna’s satisfaction from helping the tanner’s girl only lasted a moment longer than the rush of magic that the Mesh sent her way. It had rewarded her quite well for the healing — more than some of the work she’d done in dungeons. She knew why. Purging the rot had been difficult. Straightforward, but difficult.

She would have liked nothing more than to trudge back into the Devil’s Den and flop down on her bed, sleeping until her energy returned.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be an option.

Even after the tanner had led his girl away, relief stamped into his features, the rest of the crowd that had been waiting for healing from Arwin all turned their attention straight to her. They weren’t going to want to go anywhere easily. Not after that display.

And as tired as Anna was, she couldn’t bring herself to wave them off. She still had some power left. Not enough to deal with a second wound as severe as the girl’s, but enough to deal with a few smaller problems.

The next man in line swallowed nervously as he stepped up to Anna. She didn’t even need to ask him what was wrong. His arm was poorly bound with white cloth and he clutched it gingerly to his chest, doing his best not to let any part of it move.

“You broke your arm,” Anna said.

“I was hoping—”

“Is it rotted?”

“No, nothing like that. I just saw people gathering here for a healer and thought you might be able to get it for me.” The man’s words were a little terse, but he wasn’t about to collapse from pain.

“I could, but I’m conserving power,” Anna said. “Healing severe wounds takes a lot. And as I told the last two, Ifrit isn’t going to be able to heal something like your arm. He can replace things. Not fix them.”

“What about you?” the man asked with a hopeful grin.

Anna shook her head. “No. Not unless you’re unable to find another healer. Your situation isn’t serious enough for me to spend the energy on it. And if you want Ifrit to handle your arm — well, be ready to remove it.”

The man grunted in annoyance. He opened his mouth to complain, but the words never made it past his lips. His gaze drifted up past Anna’s shoulder and he turned, striding away while muttering a hurried ‘thanks for telling me’, under his breath.

Anna turned to see what he’d been looking at.

Monica stood behind her. The orc’s burly arms were crossed in front of her chest and her fangs protruded from her mouth, curling up past her top lip and turning her confident smile into something far closer to a snarl.

“Doing alright?” Monica asked. “I don’t mean to tread on your toes. I’m sure you could knock a few heads together. Figured you could use someone to look big and scary behind you.”

“I appreciate it,” Anna said with a smile. “Thank you. I’m sure everything would have been more than fine, but cutting the problem off at the head before it can start is always nice.”

“That’s an incredible costume,” the woman that had been standing in line behind the man with the broken arm said. Anna didn’t see any overt injuries about her, but didn’t mean that she couldn’t be in need of healing. The woman, however, seemed more concerned with Monica than Anna. Awe filled her eyes as she peered up at the towering orc. “How’d you get the skin so realistic?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I grew it myself,” Monica replied with a huge grin. She held her arm out. “Want to touch?”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I would be too scared of damaging your hard work,” the woman said with a hurried shake of her head. She glanced to Anna and a sheepish smile. “I… uh, just wanted to see if there was another healer here. They can be quite difficult to get a hold of. I don’t actually need anything dealt with right now.”

I might have been mildly annoyed if I wasn’t so tired right now. As things are, I’m actually glad that I don’t have to do any more work.

“It’s fine, but I’m going to start charging if everyone just comes to watch. Is there anyone that actually does need healing? I don’t have a ton of energy left, but I’ll do what I can if it’s urgent. If not, I’m going to crash in bed for the rest of the day.”

The woman stepped out of line, joined by several others that had gathered just to watch the show. Anna nearly made to leave and head back into the tavern when she realized that there was one person that had made his way up to the front.

A boy so thin that she’d nearly missed him in the small crowd, with well-defined features and snow white hair, approached her with the help of a carved wooden crutch.

This time around, Anna didn’t have to wonder why he was looking for Arwin’s services.

The boy’s right leg was malformed. Even though a pant leg covered it, the wind passing through the street was enough to occasionally pull the cloth against the overly-thin limb beneath.

“And what of me?” the boy asked, taking a step forward. His staff rang against the stone as he came to a stop before Anna. Something about his gaze gave her answer pause. It was sharp — almost honed. He shifted his weight to his good leg and tapped the lame one with his staff. “Can you fix this?”

“I suspect I already know the answer to my question, but I’ll ask it anyway. Were you born like that?”

The boy nodded. “Yes.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry,” Anna said with a regretful shake of her head. “Healing magic can deal with injuries. I can try to remove malignant forces from your body, but that leg is part of you. Your body won’t register anything wrong with it. It’s the leg’s natural state, so healing magic will do nothing.”

“I’ve heard as much many times before.” The boy didn’t seem perturbed. “But I did not come here to seek you, as talented of a healer as you seem to be. I came to ask for the smith. I’ve heard he’s capable of doing things that even healing magic can’t do.”

“I gathered your purpose,” Anna said. This definitely wasn’t a job for her. But Arwin… there was a small possibility that he actually could do something about an issue like this. Arwin would probably be mad if Anna turned the boy away without even giving him a chance to lay out his request. “There is a chance he might actually be able to help you. But I’ll warn you upfront, even if he has time to see you, I don’t think it will be simple.”

“Oh?” the boy asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why’s that?”

“He can replace limbs,” Anna said. “Not repair them. Are you willing to lose your leg in exchange for getting a new one?”

“What kind of question is that? Who would choose a useless leg over a fully functional replacement?”

There was something in the boy’s voice that wasn’t just annoyance. His question wasn’t rhetorical. He actually wanted to see if Anna had an answer for him.

That’s interesting. Not the response I thought I’d get for a warning like that. Is he trying to test me? Well, even if he is, it doesn’t change my answer.

“I’m not trying to make your decision for you. If that’s how you feel, then perhaps Ifrit can aid you. Just remember that there is a lot of power stored in our bodies. Even a leg like that is still yourleg. A replacement is far better than nothing, but it may not be superior to what’s yours.”

“I can second that,” Monica said from behind Anna. “But personally, I think I’d go with the workin’ limb if I had a twisty one. Can’t beat the shit out of someone if my body doesn’t work right.”

The boy’s lips twitched in what almost made it into a smile before his expression went flat again. “I appreciate your council. I think I’d like to see the smith all the same. Does he do consultations?”

“I suppose we’ll find out. He’s out in a dungeon right now, so he’s not at the Infernal Armory at the moment, but he should be back fairly soon. Would you like to wait in the tavern? The line’s died down a bit. I doubt anyone would have much of a problem with it.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” the boy said as he started past Monica and into the dining room, his cane thudding against the wood. “Thank you.”

“No problem. What’s your name? I’ll find Ifrit when he gets back and send him your way.”

The boy paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done introductions. My dad had a shitty sense of humor. I’m Art.”