“You sound awful confident,” Wallace drawled. “Did you forget the part where you had to do this alone? I can’t have someone interfering with this. It’ll taint the purity of the Mithril. Let’s be real with each other. I reckon I’ve gotten a damn good understanding of your lass — she isn’t one to sit around while you’re under threat.” “Probably not,” Arwin agreed. “But I’m not going to be in any danger, so there won’t be anything for her to be worried about. There’s only going to be an issue if I can’t pull this off.” “Spoken like a true dwarf,” Wallace said, a smile splitting his beard as he give Arwin a small nod. “Very well. I’ll humor you. Don’t reckon I have a choice, actually. My job’s to get you to properly smith that Mithril. If you need to go back to do that, then back we go. Just remember. You involve the lass — we’re all gonna have a problem.” The dwarf grabbed his hammer and walked to join Arwin, molten energy heating the tool’s head from within. It quickly turned a brilliant orange and a ripple of power washed out from it as Wallace carved a flaming portal through the air. Its center rippled and changed to reveal the back room of the Infernal Armory, dark and silent as if in wait. Arwin didn’t waste a second. He stepped through the portal and Wallace followed after him. The portal snapped shut behind them, sending a small curl of fire through the air before dissipating entirely. Wallace stepped to the side to give Arwin room, bracing his back against the door out and leaning against it. His meaning was clear enough. He was willing to give Arwin room to work, but he was quite serious about making sure Lillia didn’t interfere. There was a chance that would cause trouble if Lillia arrived before Arwin finished — which meant he didn’t have much time to work with. It was difficult to keep the smile from his face. Wallace was too late. The dwarf was worried about Lillia helping him during their little test, but she’d already given Arwin everything he needed to know. Arwin drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he approached the maw-hearth at the center of the room. Wallace’s gaze rested on the back of his neck with enough weight to make his hair stand on end, but he ignored it. He ignored the aghast expression on Wallace’s face as he worked to form a ball of lava he could work with. Arwin chewed, pushing his magical energy into the lava as he crushed it beneath his teeth. The ball of molten stone came together quickly. It wasn’t long before Arwin had it completely prepared and connected to himself. He dismissed the flames from his mouth to save energy, then held the molten ball in one hand as he pulled the steel out and put it within the ball. He focused his attention, feeling the song of the metal as he purged it of impurities over the next few minutes. After a few minutes of work, he was rewarded with a cube of purified metal ready and waiting to be forged. Arwin set the metal on the ground and then took the small bar of Mithril out from his pocket. For a second, he hesitated. He’d had a whole lot of practice with the rough steel. This was different. Warm light reflected off the gentle blue surface of the ingot. Arwin could see his reflection within it, muted and warped in the gentle swirls buried within the metal. From this point onward, he couldn’t afford any mistakes. He studied the metal for a moment longer. Then he plunged it into the ball of lava. Molten rock swallowed the beautiful blue metal, and Arwin had no more time to contemplate or think. All he could do now was act. Thoughts washed across his mind. He blocked them out. The time for the mithril to make its desires known would come, but it wasn’t now. Arwin stilled his breathing. He closed his mind to everything but the beat of the song traveling through the lava cupped in his hands. He felt it — and it felt him. Arwin responded to the song, pouring [Soul Flame] into the lava and purging the impurities from the Mithril without mercy. The longer he worked, the more he could feel it harmonizing with him. His actions were those of the lava, and the lava sung in synchrony with the mithril. Minutes rolled by with the droplets of sweat that traced down Arwin’s brow and soaked into his clothes. Concentration creased his features and gripped his chest in a vice to the point where he almost forgot to breathe. His focus was completely and utterly on the glowing orange ball of molten stone and the gentle blue metal within it. And then it was done. The Mithril was prepared. Arwin pulled it from the ball of lava, a small bar that fit perfectly in the center of his palm and set it down beside the prepared piece of steel. There wasn’t much material, but it was more than enough for what he had planned. He dropped the ball of lava back into the hole at the center of the hearth. It sank into the stone throat and vanished, sending another flicker of energy through the black veins in the ground. “Well done,” Wallace said from behind Arwin. “Good purity. I can tell. But what comes next? Have you figured out your dwarven smithing method?” “Nah. I figured I’d wing it,” Arwin replied with a small smile. “Good man,” the dwarf cackled. “I knew—” “But I did lie a little bit,” Arwin said as he drew on his magical energy and let it swirl through his body and gather at his right hand. A tremor ran through the ground at Arwin’s feet and the energy glowing in the black veins pulsated. The heart in the wall thumped. “Did you, now?” Wallace’s voice held a note of steel in it. “I said I wasn’t going to get help. And I won’t. Not from Lillia, at least,” Arwin said. He lifted right hand as the air around it started to shimmer with magical power. “But I’m more than a smith, Wallace. I’m a guildmaster. My power doesn’t come just from working alone. It comes from everyone around me.”