Arwin studied the materials laid out before him. His back was sore from hunching over an anvil and his jaw hurt from being clenched in concentration. He’d spent the last three hours poring over everything he had to work with, trying to figure out what the best way to make the bracelet for Twelve would be. He’d tested out every single type of metal that he still had pieces of, quizzing them mentally to run through their desires before eventually settling on Ivorin. While some of the other metals Esmerelda could have gotten him might have been stronger, Ivorin was so happy to be used for anything that it fit his needs perfectly. The most important aspect for an item was ensuring it did exactly what he wanted. There was no room for failure or deviation from the plan. Unfortunately, choosing the metal turned out to be the easy part. The real struggle was figuring out what components Arwin would add to it. There were three main things the bracelet absolutely had to accomplish. It had to be functionally impossible to remove, it had to change its wearer’s appearance to a pre-set monster, and it had to change or warp their words to ensure Twelve couldn’t reveal anything during the fight. There wasn’t a good way for Arwin to predict exactly what to put into the bracelet. He’d never made anything even remotely . There were so many separate pieces that had to work perfectly and in conjunction that he was tempted to rip his own hair out. Every component of an item affected the other ones. The more different desires and magical desires there were within the bracelet, the harder it would be for him to ensure it acted the way he wanted it to. Arwin held up several pieces of carapace that the Menagerie had collected over their time together. Pieces of spider, chunks of centipede, and a few extras that Rodrick had brought in from dungeon delves that Arwin hadn’t been on. He set the pieces down beside a pile of wyrm parts — teeth, claws, fangs, bones. And it wasn’t just that. There were parts from dozens of different monsters. If anyone had walked into his smithy, they might have suspected him to be a madman hording trophies of his victims rather than a smith. Esmerelda reached into her pant pocket and rifled around in it for a moment before pulling out a large vial that definitely shouldn’t have fit in where she’d pulled it. The vial was empty and had a thin glass wall running down its center, splitting it in half. “With this,” Esmerelda said. “Segmented vial.” Arwin decided not to ask where she’d gotten the vial. “What’s it do?” “Each half has a different potion,” Lillia guessed. “And when you fling it or drink it, they both activate at once.” “Exactly,” Esmerelda said. “When you’ve got something too complex, you have to think outside the magic. Who needs the two potions to be the same one? Just throw the bottle harder and they’ll both activate at once. Good old fashioned logic works just as well.” Huh. Two different potions basically taped together? It sounds stupid, but it’s so simple it’s genius. But how can I do that with items? They were all silent for several seconds. Then Arwin’s eyes lit up. He spun back to his materials, searching through the components for a gemstone. “Holy shit. Esmerelda, you’re a genius.” “I know,” Esmerelda said. She hesitated for a second. “What did I do?” “Gems,” Arwin said, plucking a clear crystal from the pile. “I normally use them like energy batteries in items.” “Isn’t that still part of the item?” Lillia asked. “How will that make it any easier to make?” “It won’t — but that’s only if I actually set the gemstone in the finished item,” Arwin said with a shake of his head. “Making a Set might help, but I don’t know how to control the set bonus, and that could ruin everything if it’s actually powerful or somehow helps Twelve in another way. But if I make two entirely separate items… a bracelet that shifts the wearer into the form of something set within it, and an item that contains the essence of a monster…” “It’s much easier to make each of the pieces since they don’t need to influence each other. They exist independently and just work together when you choose to connect them,” Lillia finished, her eyes lighting up. “Can you do that?” Arwin nodded. “Yes. That, I can do. I’m certain of it.” “What about the monster you’re going to shift Twelve into?” Lillia asked. “Have you figured out what it will be? You’ll need a piece of it, I’d assume.” He studied Lillia before slowly nodding. “Yes. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what might work. Would the two of you be willing to help me a little more?” Esmerelda shrugged. “Sounds fun. I’m in.” “You already know I am as well,” Lillia said. “I’ve finished the most important parts of my own preparation.” “Perfect,” Arwin said. The Infernal Armory rumbled to life around them. Black veins pulsed with power along the floor and tendrils reached out, driving into his back and connecting him to the building. A determined smile pulling across his features. “Then let’s get to making this, shall we?” Eight hours later, just as night started to set over the Menagerie’s street, the clang of metal within the Infernal Armory went silent. Lillia and Esmerelda both leaned against the wall, exhaustion playing across their features and their bodies drained of magic. Arwin wasn’t in much better shape. He leaned against his anvil, strength spent, breathing heavily and soaked with sweat. This was their third try, and Arwin didn’t think they had the strength for another in the time they had left. Two items — the results of all their efforts — sat within his hand. The first was a bone white band. It was entirely plain and unadorned, aside from two fingers that twisted up from its top in preparation to hold onto something. That something sat rested just beside the band in Arwin’s palm. A plain red gemstone trimmed on all sides with a band of Ivorin wrapped around it, sized perfectly to slot into the band. With trembling fingers, Arwin plucked the gemstone from his palm and slipped it into the band. It snapped into place. The results of all their efforts sat within his hand.