Chapter 18: Friendly Faces

The smell of blood was stuck in Vivi’s nose as she exited the dungeon. Her vision was blurry, likely from all the lost blood. Passersby and idle demons glanced at her wounds and bloody clothes. Nobody asked questions, and nobody offered help. They merely stared, assessing her purely by her threat-level. Vivi walked past, ignoring the looks.

Entering the hub, a commotion was taking place beside the dungeon entrance. A brawl, by the looks of it. A group of demons threw fists at each other, screaming curses. At least one was lying unconscious on the ground. The guards weren’t anywhere to be seen. Vivi passed discreetly, not wanting to get involved.

Turning away, the hub was littered with more demons passed out on the ground, beggars, and arguments ongoing in the middle of the streets where others tried to walk. The hub was like a miserable city street that politicians pretended didn’t exist.

A near-naked demon man was attempting to climb up to the roof of a food stall. Atop the stall sat a tiny demon with white hair and small horns. The little girl was munching on a meat-stick with one hand, carrying the man’s clothes in the other.

When guards came rushing to the scene, the little girl tossed the clothes onto the man’s face before hopping off. She ran toward the dungeon, passing Vivi. The girl was barely taller than Vivi’s foot.

“Catch her!” the guards shouted.

The little girl was already gone. Guards ran past Vivi, after the girl.

Vivi deemed the coast was clear. She moved past, ignoring the scene. What a place… she thought. The hub is a mess. I’m bleeding from the face, and I don’t even stand out.

“What are our plans?” Lucius asked. “We need to make progress sooner than later.”

Vivi considered her thoughts before answering. She had learned to be more selective with what she thought out loud. I want to talk to someone who is sane, she thought.

“You want friends?” Lucius asked.

That’s a strong word, Vivi thought. I doubt anyone can become a true friend here. But we need someone friendly enough to tell us what’s going on. There are a ton of unwritten rules we don’t know about Zand. Maybe some humans from the Greenwitch hunting family are still alive?

“Friends are a waste of ether,” Lucius said. “Searching for those corrupt idiots will be pointless.”

If someone can tell me where I can clean my wounds, that’ll be enough, Vivi thought.

She began aimlessly walking, pretending to look busy. Even this proved to be difficult. Everywhere she went, distractions took her attention. Beggars, arguments, sometimes just crazy demons shouting at her. Vivi was forced to alter her path multiple times just to keep peace.

Above, the daylight gems glimmered like dim stars of a clear night sky. The fortress reminded Vivi of snow-globes she admired as a child. The lowered sky was like a magical shroud—a globe to contain the facility inside. The world itself offered shelter from danger.

Or rather, the world itself contained Vivi in this mess.

A sound in the distance took Vivi’s attention. A familiar tapping sound. The clinging of a hammer. Vivi lifted her head toward the sound, suddenly curious. Uundref had mentioned workshops in Zand. Crafting existed in this hellhole. Vivi followed the sound like a hound sniffing food.

The hammers resounded from a hole in the hardstone wall. A large depiction of a hammer had been painted over the doors. The place was clearly a smithy.

There were no guards, and the door was open. Still, Vivi hesitated. Would she be allowed in? The demons had mentioned the need for a pass.

She took a deep breath. If craftsmen here aren’t friendly, nobody is. She stepped inside.

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The scent of hot steel was strong in the dark smithy. The scent of home. The smithy was large, reminding Vivi more of a warehouse. There were dozens of furnaces and anvils. Demons were hard at work, smithing blades. Most of the craftsmen were short horned dwarves. The clank of hammers echoed almost deafeningly loud.

“Your business?” a doorkeeper asked. He was a dwarf with a rough beard wearing light leather armor. His dagger-like horns were covered in knitted wool. He didn’t seem to carry the guards’ symbol anywhere, though he looked far more sane than the other nimrods Vivi had seen.

“I was hoping I could earn a blacksmithing pass,” Vivi said.

“This smithy is private. Out with you, bloody witch.”

“No, please,” Vivi said. “Give me half a minute. If you’re a blacksmith, you’ll understand.”

The dwarf frowned at her. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to clean my wounds,” Vivi said. “And I’d like to work. You have free anvils. I’m a practiced blacksmith.” And runesmith. Vivi left that part out. So far, mentioning runesmithing hadn’t brought her any success.

“If you’re looking for a get-rich-quick job, you’re already dead,” the dwarf said. “My smiths barely earn a hundred ether a week. You won’t earn anything by tomorrow.”

“I’m safe for tomorrow,” Vivi said. “The collection day won’t get me.”

The dwarf opened his mouth, about to tell her off again, but Vivi cut him off. Kind words and pleading wouldn’t get her anywhere.

“That smith there,” Vivi said, pointing at a dwarf a few rows off, who was working on a rainbow-colored metal called Ensium. “His forge is too cool. Ensium works best at twenty-eight hundred kelvin. His thermometer reads barely twenty-six hundred. His rhythm is also off. It looks to me like he’s working on a hammer that’s too heavy for him. The blade will be uneven and imperfect.”

The doorkeeper squinted to see what Vivi was looking at. He didn’t appear too happy. “He’s been working for seven hours. It makes sense to get tired.”

“I don’t mean to insult your smiths,” Vivi said. “The man has good form. He’s clearly practiced. But so am I. I want to hold a hammer again. Please. I’ll go insane if everyone in this facility is an enemy. I’ll smith swords and work for you in exchange for help and information. I need allies.”

The dwarf looked her in the eye. He studied her for an uncomfortably long time. “Let me see your hands,” he said.

Vivi held out her right hand, the hammer hand. The dwarf grabbed hold of it, touching her calluses. He took a deep breath and asked, “What’s your name, girl?”

“Vivi, sir.”

“Call me Master Axback,” the dwarf said. “I’ll give you one chance only. Good blacksmiths will survive in Zand. Assuming you are true to your word.”

Vivi bowed. “Thank you!”

Axback didn’t look any happier. “I don’t want blood all over my equipment. Follow me.”

Vivi was led toward the back of the smithy. For the first time in Zand, she felt like she wasn’t being glared at. The apprentices and smiths were far too busy with their work to pay mind to Vivi. The few looks she did receive were curious as opposed to hostile.

Axback led Vivi to a small basin full of water on top of barrels. There was a metal drain on the floor. “This place has pipes?” Vivi asked in surprise.

“Just sewers,” Axback said. “Clean yourself, and find me when you’re ready to start working.”

Vivi thanked him once again, then dipped her hands in the basin. She rubbed water on her wounds, trying not to waste water.

I told you the blacksmiths would be nice, Vivi thought.

“They seem ordinary to me,” Lucius said.

Ordinary is a blessing, Vivi thought.

“Well, let’s hope they won’t screw us in the back.”

Vivi had the urge to frown, but she struggled to disagree. Nobody in Zand was a true ally. Everyone wanted something.

However, if Vivi could provide value to a community, making allies would be a whole lot easier. Life had never been about friendliness and flowers. Even back in Fellwater, every citizen’s value was determined by their wealth and profession. How much ether one could earn was directly proportional to how nicely others treated them.

Vivi took care of her wounds swiftly. The dagger marks would likely heal on their own. The slash on her cheek, however, kept bleeding no matter how many times Vivi cleaned it. She frowned.

“Here,” Axback said, appearing beside Vivi with a roll of gauze. He tossed it to Vivi.

She quickly cut off a piece and taped it to her face.

“Thank you,” Vivi said. “You’re a blessing.”

“You promised to work in exchange,” Axback said.

Vivi bowed. “I’m at your service.”

“I expect you to smith one sword for me free of charge,” Axback said. “I’ll pay for materials. I trust you not to ruin them. Depending on the quality of your work, I’ll consider making a deal with you. You said you wanted information?”

Vivi nodded. “I have deals and questions in mind.”

“Better smith a damn good blade, then,” Axback said. He led her to one of the empty anvils. “Here’s your station. Here’s your steel. If the sword is good, I’ll feed you a meal. Now, get to work.”