Next up was Kurobe’s forge.
I hadn’t seen our smith lately, busy as he was with the creative process. He hadn’t even appeared at the deployment speech I gave earlier. I knew he was doing fine; he was just the type to get totally absorbed in whatever he tackled. I did ask him to make weapon production his top priority, too, and he had apparently been spending well near every waking hour on the effort. Kaijin told me as much before our conference.
The door to the forge was open when we showed up. It was fully equipped with tools he brought over from Kaijin’s workshop, with the raw materials for his work kept in an adjacent storage room. I had granted him a pretty decent supply of magisteel; he had everything he needed along those lines, but he was a little nervous about the lack of other metals on hand. We needed to examine the nearby mountains for a permanent ore supply, but our lack of time and resources meant that had to wait. Until the construction frenzy died down a little, staff shortages were going to be a chronic issue.
I could hear banging from inside the forge, waves of heat wafting out from the door. This was the only high-temperature forge in town, run by a furnace made from clay blocks heated with Control Flame. It turned out better than I anticipated. We were planning to build more once we got to grips with this one. Lots of things in the works, not enough time to tackle them. A real pain.
So we went inside and grabbed Kurobe’s attention. Once he noticed, he greeted us with a smile. “I was expecting you!” he said. “There’s somethin’ I’d really like to show you all.”
I could tell he was eager to show off his latest work. A little too eager, in fact. He spent the next two hours talking about everything he had crafted, my eyes glazing over along the way. Yes, I know, it’s all great, can I get out of here, please? I almost said it out loud a few times before stopping myself—he just looked too happy.
I was hoping Shion would step in, always eager to have her say on anything, but she just sat there and stared at all the weapons lined against the wall, enrapt. Weaponry was a hobby for her, I guess, as it was for all the ogre mages. They carefully studied every inch of what they were given, grasping it in hand as they took in every word of Kurobe’s guidance.
Benimaru had an elegant, flowing longsword, Hakuro a large staff with a sword hidden inside, Soei a pair of ninja-style blades. They all looked happy with them, and I could see why—each one was a perfect fit for their owner.
One thing did bother me, though. Shion’s war blade… It’s kind of too big, isn’t it?
“Oh, it’s fine,” Shion said with a laugh. “The scabbard’s covered in magical power, so I can make it disappear with a moment’s thought.”
That’s great, but it wasn’t what I asked. Isn’t it kind of impractically large? But Shion’s smile informed me that further protest was useless. If she could handle it, fine, but it was far too large for a regular person to pick up. I doubted even Kaijin could’ve made that—dwarves were pretty strong, but they would need two hands just to move it. Shion, meanwhile, could unsheathe this massive hunk of iron with a single arm. I realized, at that moment, that angering her would never be a good idea.
“This is probably the largest weapon I’ve ever built,” Kurobe said, smiling confidently as he watched Shion. “I figured she could take advantage of it.”
And he was right. Shion couldn’t have looked happier.
Finally, it was time for my own weapon.
“For you, Sir Rimuru, I got this. It ain’t complete yet; this is just the beginning. You talked about a sword with magic ore in it, and that’s what I’m aimin’ for. Kaijin and I are doin’ some research, but we’re gonna need a mite more time for it. Until then, if you could get used to this sword…”
I was handed a long, straight sword. So he was actually going through with that idea? Sweet. It made me excited—and glad I offered the suggestion in the first place. Sitting through two hours of esoteric blacksmith discussion paid off after all.
“All right,” I nodded, storing the sword in my stomach. I could bend it to my will more easily in there.
Kurobe, with a nod, handed me another blade. “This is just a test run,” he explained, “something we were experimenting with. Feel free to use it for now, though.”
It looked like a plain old Japanese-style katana, but since it was made by Kurobe, I was sure it was a masterful piece of work. I’d want to take care of it. And besides, Hakuro was currently beating all his swordsmanship knowledge into me. It’d be nice to have one to carry around, I thought, and in a moment, I had it around my waist. That alone made me feel a little stronger, for some reason. Weird.
Finally, I asked Kurobe to make a shortsword for me. He looked a tad confused momentarily, but he smiled and nodded at the request. I didn’t know what he thought about it, but I didn’t really care, either. This would be Gobta’s weapon, after all. I could hand him a plastic fast-food knife and he’d worship me for it.
So he ventured back to the forge. We were all armed now.
✦ ✦ ✦
On our way out, Garm stopped us. Apparently, Benimaru’s armor was done. Without much ore at hand, iron was in very short supply, so he couldn’t provide him with a full-plate package. Ogres weren’t really into that sort of thing anyway, though. It didn’t go too well with kimono, besides.
Instead, Kurobe brought over a set of scale mail crafted from monster-harvested materials. The completed version of what he had given Kabal the adventurer before, and an outfit that melded with the wearer’s aura as well. Glad to see my magisteel was being put to such good use. It was much more sturdily built than the test run, designed exclusively for Benimaru and matching remarkably well with his red kimono. There were pieces for his chest and thighs, as well as gauntlets and shin guards. Benimaru instructed him not to bother with a helmet, as that wasn’t his style. It was flashy, but again, it worked perfectly with his good looks.
I asked him about armor for the rest of us. “Oh, I’ll have Shuna handle that for you all,” he replied—apparently, he’d deliver each piece to her once it was done. He really liked having an excuse to see her, I suppose. For now, though, he provided three sets of chainmail for Hakuro, Soei, and Shion. They would wear it directly over their base layers, so it would be well hidden. Garm and Shion had worked closely together on these, too, and they were designed not to distort the look of their outfits at all. Plus, Garm got to hang out with Shion more, which I’m sure was all the inspiration he needed to do such a great job. I kind of wished his work ethic wasn’t inspired by getting to hang with beautiful women, but I couldn’t complain.
I already had my dark jacket in hand, so I didn’t need anything else. I made sure to thank Garm while I had the chance.
✦ ✦ ✦
The next day, the goblin riders were by and large ready to roll, lined in a perfect row with a week’s worth of provisions strapped to their backs. We needed to be quick and decisive in this fight, so I gave them only the bare minimum of food. If I had to provide a full supply, it’d slow us down too much. Speed would be everything, and if it was called for, we’d need the ability to zoom outta there on short notice. Each rider carried enough food for themselves, and that’d be sufficient.
I figured we might as well get going so we could scope out the geography in advance.
“We’ve got an orc lord to take down!” I shouted at them. “Let’s make this quick!” I deliberately kept the pep talk short. No point getting too eager. We need to keep our eyes focused on the situation around us, and the simpler the objectives, the better. The riders, nonetheless, gave their war cries of approval in response, the deafening roar echoing across town.
Most of these hobgoblin soldiers were survivors of our first (and last) battle against the pack of direwolves. There were a few newbies, but all were elite troops, each entrusted with a tempest wolf of their own. Morale was high, and watching them prepare to ride helped relieve some of my own anxiety as well.
Maybe we could win this. Or at least escape unhurt if we couldn’t. It wouldn’t pay to be too optimistic, but there’s no need to assume the worst in this battle, either. So off we went, spirits lifted as we made tracks for the marshes.