Melissa stared at her gauntleted hands, hardly able to believe that she was looking at her own body. Her ears rung faintly and she could hear the thump of the blood coursing through her head. A small part of her wondered if she’d somehow fallen into a coma from the first Falling Blade assassins’ poison and just hadn’t ever come out of it. She was no stranger to wealth. Her father had been a rich man and she’d seen more than her fair share of magical equipment. She’d even had a few pieces of it. The armor Ifrit had made her in just a single week was just an inch away from impossible. It was one of the strongest pieces she’d ever seen. Sure, Melissa had come across stronger or more dangerous traits, but having this many in a single set of armor, not to mention in the time it had taken Arwin to make it, was ridiculous. It almost made her wonder if he’d had the armor sitting around before she arrived. In fact, that was the only solution that Melissa’s mind could accept. He’d already had the majority of a set completed and had just taken advantage of the opportunity to modify it for her purposes. The only thing that held the set back was its time limit of a month. But, if anything, that only relieved Melissa. If Ifrit had truly been able to make something this strong and it hadn’t come with a drawback, it would have been among the top ten or twenty magical items she’d ever seen. I can’t believe a smith in a backwater town like Milten is capable of doing this, much less more. Did the gods guide me to him? Or was it something more sinister? That thought only chilled Melissa’s spine for about a second before she realized she didn’t give a rat’s ass who had brought her to Ifrit. If the smith gave her a chance to avenge her father and take control of her family back, she’d make a deal with anyone and anything willing to offer it. “Well?” Ifrit asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. They stood inside the smithy, with Reya, Olive, and Anna watching them from the far side of the store. “What do you think? Good enough? Need any modifications?” “Well, take a look at you,” Esmerelda said as she hobbled over to Melissa. “It’s great to see you on your feet again, lass. I’ve been quite busy these last few days. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten a chance to get to know you more properly. Are you feeling well?” “Oh, it’s fine,” Melissa said. “Anna took good care of me, and I wouldn’t expect anyone to drop all their responsibilities just because of my presence.” “Would somebody invite me in?” Madiv asked. “It’s just hospitality, dear,” Esmerelda said with a comforting pat on Melissa’s armored shoulder. “I know you’ve got a tough path ahead of you. Perhaps you could use some aid.” “Oh, Ifrit has given me everything I think I could possibly need,” Melissa said, the back of her neck reddening in shame. It was pathetic that she needed to rely so heavily on someone else’s power, but it was a shame she would bear if it let her survive. “I couldn’t bring myself to accept a single other handout.” “A handout?” Esmerelda clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Perish the thought. A gift, perhaps. One that comes at a small cost. Nothing too great. And in return, a powerful weapon to aid you on your journey. I have just what you need in my shop.” “You’re too kind,” Melissa said, wishing she could sink into the floor. The old woman felt so bad for her that she was offering discounts on her items. The Heir of the Montibeau family, reduced to begging for charity. Her cheeks flushed a bright red and she pulled her helmet over her head to hide her face. “I am honored by your kindness, but I would sooner lose a limb than I would prey on your thoughtfulness any longer.” Esmerelda’s mouth worked as she tried to find words. Oh, no. She’s trying to think of a way she can help me even more without making me feel bad. I won’t let that happen. I have my pride as a noble. If I accept a single extra thing from the Menagerie, I don’t think father will be able to look me in the eye when I meet him in the next life. “Can someone please invite me in?” Madiv asked again. Melissa took the momentary distraction to hurriedly switch the topic. “I’ll never be able to thank all of you for what you’ve done for me, but I should leave. Rodrick said the Falling Blades might strike again as soon as a week after the last group. I don’t want to bring any more danger to any of you.” “I — wait. You can’t go yet!” Esmerelda protested. Melissa shook her head firmly. “I must. This is my weight to bear, but you all have already given me so much to aid me. It will be enough. I will succeed.” “You will,” Ifrit agreed. He gave her an encouraging smile and a sharp nod. “I recognize that determination in your eyes. It isn’t our place to keep you from it. Be careful but do what must be done. I look forward to hearing of the Montibeau family’s rise.” “You will,” Melissa swore. She pressed a hand to her chest and bowed to Ifrit. “And, when you do, I will repay my debts. I swear it.” She had nothing but the armor on her back and the sword of one of the assassins that the Menagerie had gifted to her. It would be enough. Melissa strode out of the smithy. First, she would retake the Montibeau’s hold in Milten. She would kill the assassins that came for her — and then the Kererus Coalition would pay for what they had done. “I hope she succeeds,” Arwin said. “She’s got a strong mind. It would be useful to have an ally like that in power.” “Why doesn’t anyone want to buy my items?” Esmerelda muttered, staring at the palms of her hands with a distraught expression. “Would someone please invite me in?” Madiv asked from the doorway. “It’s fine, Esmerelda. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You just need the right customer. It’s better to sell one thing to the right person than ten things to the wrong ones,” Anna said, putting a hand on the older woman’s shoulders and giving her a comforting smile. “Did you want to buy something?” Esmerelda asked, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes.