Rise of the Living Forge

It was remarkably easy to walk right into people’s rooms when they were completely focused on the melee battles unfolding in the center of the arena. After all, the principal rule thieves followed was the exact same one that magicians did.

Distraction was king.

If you kept someone’s attention on anything but what was actually important, then they wouldn’t even notice you slip articles of their clothing off until they were buck naked.

And there wasn’t any distraction anywhere near as good as a good show. Normally, breaking into rooms of adventurers all jumped up and ready for a high-stakes tournament would probably be a poor idea. They were the exact type of mark that no thief would ever choose if they valued their lives.

But when they were all staring wide-eyed at the competition, trying to glean even the smallest advantage for a future fight, it was remarkably easy for Reya to stride straight through the walls of the fighters’ quarters and scan over the combatants.

According to Arwin, Arnold wasn’t in the fight right now. That meant he had to be in one of the groups watching — and she planned to find him before the next group got on stage.

Reya slipped in and out of her unsuspecting victim’s quarters, resisting the incredible urge to pilfer anything off the tables on her way. The last thing she needed to do right now was alert them that someone had been in their room.

Lifting some gold off an idiot that left their savings in the middle of a hallway was one thing. Straight up robbing someone in their own room was another. It would be a whole lot harder to track Arnold down if she had an angry horde at her heels.

Reya made good time. She didn’t have to spend more than a few moments in each room. All it took was a quick glance over the teams before she was back through the walls and on her way once more, leaving nobody in the rooms she passed by any wiser.

Many of the rooms were already empty. That really didn’t come as much surprise — so many teams had been eliminated by the melee rounds that had already passed that there was no longer any more need for their presence.

She supposed the Secret Eye didn’t let them just sit around and watch the rest of the tournament. That felt a bit rude, but nobody had ever claimed that the shadowy group was particularly considerate.

Reya stepped through the dozenth wall of the day, her hood low just in case someone did happen to be looking in her direction — and froze on the spot.

Like all the other rooms, this one was occupied by three people. Off the bat, Reya could tell that none of them were the person she was looking for. Two of them wore long, dark robes that covered their features completely… but neither held her attention.

All of that was completely focused on the third man, flanked by the others as if they were guards and he a prisoner. The man was raggedy, even from the back. His ratty hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. In stark contrast to that, he wore the fine silken clothing of a rich man. It looked remarkably ill on him. Like a child in his father’s robes.

Odder still was his choice of weapon. A single dagger on his hip was the only blade he had on him. The man didn’t seem like a caster, and he definitely wasn’t dressed to use a blade like that.

Daggers need mobility and distraction. Something to hide the dagger until the last moment. They aren’t weapons meant for drawn out battles. They’re for murder, and murder isn’t fancy.

Reya couldn’t exactly place what it was, but there was something deeply off about the man. She was fairly certain that she hadn’t seen him in any of the melee rounds so far, so either she’d been out during his or his team hadn’t been called to fight yet.

He also definitely wasn’t Arnold.

Bleh. They kind of look like they’ll try to convince me to join their cult if they see me in a dark alleyway. No thanks.

Reya slipped back through the door without a moment of hesitation. Of everyone she’d run into so far, the absolute last one she wanted to have to speak to was them. She stepped back into the hall and continued on her way, plastering a confident look over her features.

Weird. Better tell Arwin about that one.

She turned the corner to find a Secret Eye attendant heading in her direction, bearing a platter of sandwiches and drinks precariously on top of it. It didn’t seem like they’d trained him very well for the job.

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Every step he took threatened to send the liquid spilling from the glasses. Reya was willing to bet that it wouldn’t be long before everything came tumbling down.

She nodded in greeting to him. There was no reason to change up what worked.

“Good luck with that. Looks like a lot.”

“Thanks,” the man replied, his features flickering with a slight surprise at the acknowledgement. He tried to shift past Reya, but the hall was narrow enough that he couldn’t quite make it with his giant platter.

“Here. Let me help you with that,” Reya said, steadying the platter and ducking under the man’s arm.

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder, not daring to look back and risk the structural integrity of his disaster-in-progress.

“No problem,” Reya replied, raising the sandwich she’d pilfered and taking a bite out of it before continuing down the hall and out of sight.

Her nose scrunched almost instantly. It was awful. Whoever had made it had been a downright horrible —

Wait.

A frown pulled across Reya’s lips and she looked down at the sandwich. It even looked horrible. And, for that matter, she hadn’t seen the Secret Eye delivering food to anyone else’s rooms.

Well, well. Looks like I’m not the only one sniffing around for information. I wonder if we can use that to our advantage.

The corner of Reya’s lips twitched up in amusement before she plastered a professional expression over her features and turned on her heel, hurrying after the retreating ‘waiter’. It wasn’t hard to catch up with him. The man moved with all the grace of a brain-damaged gazelle.

Reya tossed her stolen sandwich back onto his plate before clearing her throat.

“Say, when you’re done with that delivery, would you pass a message along to The Observer for my unit?”

Don’t know what the shit an Observer is, but it sounds real official and Secret Eye-y. And if this bloke is as full of shit as I’m pretty sure he is…

The man stiffened like someone had shoved a block of ice against his back.

“Of course,” he said. “What is it?”

“That Menagerie team — the one that has the lady with the wooden arm? She struggled when people went for that side of her. It looks like she can’t control it nearly as well as her real arm. Don’t waste any more time. She’s not a competent warrior. Call off the recruitment plans.”

“Understood,” the man said, saluting in the wrong direction. Reya didn’t blame him. Turning around definitely would have sent his tray crashing to the ground. He really should have gone with a smaller one. The man cleared his throat. “I’ll get that passed along immediately after this.”

“Good,” Reya said. Then she strode off in the way she’d come, trying to hold back a laugh.

If he’s still around, then his team should be as well. Hopefully he passes that along and they get a nasty surprise when they try to focus on attacking Olive from the right side, only to find that her cursed arm is a whole lot scarier than her normal one.

With nothing else to distract her, Reya continued her search along the rooms. She didn’t have all that much time until the next melee started. If Reya wanted to have any chance to let Arwin know which team Arnold was with, she had to move fast.

I’m also starting to run pretty low on magical energy. I can’t keep sliding through walls like this indefinitely. Even if it’s an item, it’s still using my magic up. Where the heck is this guy hiding?

The next few rooms were duds. More melee round winners, more empty chairs, no Arnold.

But, finally, she found her target.

Reya wasn’t even sure how many rooms she’d gone through at this point. Her magical energy was badly drained and her patience was hanging by a thread, but she recognized Arnold by Arwin’s description instantly.

The boy sat in a chair beside his two teammates — another boy and a girl — and leaned forward eagerly, watching the fight as he rocked in excitement.

“I can’t wait to get out there,” Arnold said.

“Me neither,” the girl agreed. There was a slight tremor in her voice that spoke of either excitement, nerves, or both. “Some of those guys look really damn strong.”

“We aren’t slouches either,” the boy to the right of Arnold said, rolling his broad shoulders. Reya could see why he felt that way — he was built like a brick shithouse. If his voice hadn’t placed him somewhere around her age, Reya would have guessed he was in his mid-thirties just from sheer muscle mass. “We’ll do great.”

Reya stepped back out of the room before any of them saw her.

Found him. Now to go get Arwin and figure out what it is that he wants to —

“Thank you.”

Reya’s back stiffened and she spun, instinctively dropping into a fighting stance at the sudden voice from behind her. Esmerelda stood a few inches behind her. There was a wry smile on the old woman’s features.

“Godspit,” Reya breathed, pressing a hand to her chest and taking a step back. “When did you get there?”

“A woman has to have a few secrets. You know how it is,” Esmerelda said. “You found him?”

“I — yes. How did you know that?”

“You came out of the other rooms looking annoyed. This one you came out looking determined. Big difference.”

“You’ve been following me this whole time? Why didn’t you just do this yourself?”

“There are rules, dearie. And you’re much better at sneaking than I am. Now back to Arwin with you. I’ll handle things from here.”

Reya blinked. She’d never really been able to get a great read on Esmerelda. The old woman was dangerous. She knew that much — but that was about it. After a moment, Reya nodded.

“Sounds good. Don’t get us in trouble.”

“There’s nothing to fear,” Esmerelda replied, something in her smile growing sinister. She turned on her heel and started for the door Reya had just phased through. “Not for the Menagerie. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have tight margins. After all, dead men can’t sell their souls.”

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