Chapter 102: Chapter 102

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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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…”