With the key secured, the group made their way out of the dungeon. There were no more incidents and the rest of their trip went without hassle. The guards standing at the entrance barely even noticed them as they passed by and headed toward Milten. Their passage back through Milten’s gates was just as uncontested as their way out of it. They looked the part of a guild and didn’t even get so much as a second look from the men manning the entrance. Arwin fought the urge to shake his head in annoyance as they passed. He got the feeling it would be quite some time before the first guard’s words ever left his ears. Don’t have beggars my ass. You’ve got a crock of murderers and monsters instead. Suppose those are better for business, though. “If I’ll be running with you lot for the near future, is there lodging that you’ll be providing?” Olive asked. “I haven’t really worked in a guild before, but–” “You can stay in the inn with us,” Reya told Olive. “We just put in some new rooms.” “Would that inn happen to be the same one we got food in?” “Yes,” Lillia said, sending a glance over her shoulder at the shorter woman. “Why? Is there a problem?” “No. No problem at all,” Olive said meekly. “I might need a lantern, though. It’s a bit… dark.” “We’re killing some Wyrms,” Arwin replied. Olive whipped her head around to look at him, nearly tripping over her own feet in her surprise. “We’re what?” “The others can fill you in,” Arwin said. “I’ll be in the shitty building across the street if anyone needs me, but make sure it’s important. I like to work uninterrupted whenever possible.” He turned and headed off while Olive gawked at his back. “Come on,” Reya said. “I’ll show you your room. We’ve got some new ones, so you can choose. We can get to the Wyrm stuff later, but don’t worry too much. The last time we fought the Wyrm, Arwin chipped its knee.” “That was the last time. He’s got a bigger hammer now and we’re all way stronger. Also, we’ve got you and your new sword. That’s got to count for something.” “Yeah. A toothpick,” Olive said, their voices fading behind Arwin as he stepped into his temporary smithy, a small grin on his face. It sounded like Olive was going to fit in with the others pretty well. She wasn’t wrong, though. They weren’t ready to fight Wyrms. Not yet. They were definitely getting much closer, but just as Titles and Achievements made massive differences for humans, they did the same for monsters. That thing was no mere Journeyman monster. Even if we’ve taken out a fair number of pretty strong Journeyman enemies in the dungeons, assuming a Wyrm will fall just as easily is a great way for us to all get killed. We need more power. Arwin set the materials that Lillia had given him down on the anvil. They smelled slightly of spider guts, but compared to the uncleaned Maristeel that was still stinking his forge up more than he would have cared to admit, it wasn’t bad. Some spider webbing. Plates from a spider and a centipede. Enough to make a few pieces of armor if he didn’t waste too much of it. On top of that, he had his Maristeel and Brightsteel left to work with – not to mention just about 140 gold if he didn’t count the 100 he still owed Ridley. I think I’ll start with greaves. They’re the most logical option for something that fits into the Ivory Executioner set, and I’m now missing them. After those can come gauntlets and then boots, in that order. Hmm. I don’t have any more of that ivory-colored metal that I used for the helm and chest piece, though. Arwin rubbed his chin, then picked up the spider silk, running it between his fingers. He also didn’t know the faintest thing about weaving or properly preparing a string for a bow. It looked like he was going to have to take a quick visit into town. Finding a tailor to help with the silk and someone that could recognize the metal probably wouldn’t be too hard, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up too early. “Oh, sure I can! That’s a simple enough,” the elderly tailor said with a kindly smile. She rubbed the strands of webbing between her fingers and nodded to Arwin. “It shouldn’t take long at all. You just want this woven into a single thread?” “As strong as you can get it,” Arwin confirmed. “I need a big bowstring, but for a bow made for a giant. A very short, relatively human sized giant.” “Why don’t you just say it’s for someone strong?” The old woman cackled at the look on Arwin’s face and patted him on the top of the head before sweeping into the back room in such a smooth motion that he could do nothing but watch. That was… odd. At least she can help, though. That’s all that matters. The faster, the be– The tailer burst out from behind the door, a glistening silver strand in her hands. “Done!” Arwin nearly choked on his own saliva. “What? Already?” “I’m a tailor by Class and trade, son,” the woman said with a bark of laughter. “If I couldn’t weave together a few strands of spider poo, then I don’t think I’d be particularly good at either. How old do you think I am?” “I couldn’t say. I know enough not to try to guess at a woman’s age.” The tailor’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Good one you are. Wise choice. Either way, twenty gold for the work.” Twenty gold? Just to weave a bunch of threads when it took you less than a minute? Are you charging more for every year you live? He didn’t voice any of his complaints. The price was painfully steep, but it was wrong to complain about a service being done fast. All that mattered was that it turned out good – and judging by the faint shimmer in the thread between the woman’s fingers, that it had. Arwin handed over the gold and she deposited the string into his palm in a coil. He tucked it safely into a pocket with a nod. “Thank you. I appreciate the prompt service.” “Anytime, son. Come back soon.”