Yeah you all know the drill. I do not own Diablo (beyond the purchased game). I do not own That time I was reincarnated as a Slime (beyond the purchased manga). I do not need to be reminded that I do not own them and not rich because of it. Carry on! (... waits till you leave before breaking down and crying because of the lack of ownership.)

Out of Place: Forced out the door

Chapter Six

Dwargon (Edge)

That feeling was back. Not as nagging as before but in a way it was worse in that I was keenly aware two forgotten memories were bleeding in with one another, if that made any sense. Not even the distinct fact that there was no snow was enough to banish the strange declaration that claims that there should be tanks at the front of the gate. Steam power tanks at that, I think(?). Adorned with animal motifs at the head that practically covered the top of a steam roller?

... heh. We never had much use for tanks, did we? In entrenched positions they had their uses, even in front line engagements that lasted for days on end before their arrival and sometimes after their deployment. But the overall mobility of the Host certainly did not work in their cumbersome favor, especially in ever shifting terrain. No, the battle barges, the dirigibles and the occasional bomber complimented the Host more and ensured our domination of aerial warfare was largely uncontested. In fact they were so preferred the only reason they had me constructing forts, outposts and the like was more to act as a warning system and stalling measure to ultimately protect the Pandemonium Fortress wasn't it? I'll have to consult the old maps to see if this hypothesis has any weight; all I can say is that after my tenure as the castellan that I hadn't seen an actual angelic war camp outside of the Aegis sieges.

"My lord, are you ready?"

... I'm never going to convince them to call me otherwise am I? Five days of travel seems like a sufficient time to at least try but nooooo.

Sigh.

"As ready as I'll ever be I suppose."

And thus our group departed to the line that was visible even from the forest's edge. A group of four, none of which are the wargs, while the rest stayed behind to maintain the camp, guard what remained of the unrefined materials and to hopefully try to convince traveling tradesmen into our little expedition if they wander close enough to camp. Failing that then they were to attempt to trade for any spare tools on them.

As for the rest of us the plan remained the same since the start of the journey: locate and try to convince skilled workers into returning with us to the village to either work or teach there. The only thing that changed was that in the free time provided by the fact that they needed to rest I was able to fiddle with some of the materials I had collected both before and during our journey. In short we're going to try to make a profit while we're here. If nothing else it should help buy supplies if and when worse comes to worst where I have to do the teaching.

Thankfully like most lines there was no fanfare of any sort in joining, just a few curious glances at most from humans and non-humans alike; good to know Gobta was correct in that Dwargon held a neutral stance in racial matters. Just wish it wasn't so long, or they at least had a guard tower or even a patrol out. With lines that get this long it's all but asking for some idiot to think there's an easy picking or two. To make things both worse and annoying is that this typically happened toward the back where security was the most pitiful; worse of course being that given we are at the very back it may ruin any chances of simply crossing the threshold without a special note on our party—only the most desperate of craftsmen would knowingly join a group the city guard are keeping an eye on and even they can be fickle at the best of times.

"Hey! What are monsters doing around here?"

... it would've been too easy to ask for nothing to happen, wouldn't it? Too easy!

Alright, now what are we—you daft bastards got to be kidding me. Two? Just—oh wait, there's a few more further back, just looking on it seems. How arrogant.

They are not going to enjoy having their sense of pride broken.

"They're not inside yet, so there's no penalty for killing them here—"

"Fran?"

"Yes milord?!"

"Would you all be so kind as to run ahead and tell the guards there's a group of bandits threatening to kill everyone who doesn't bow to their whims?"

"R-right!"

"W-what!? You want us to leave you here unprotected?!"

"At best it'll be more than a distraction. Now go."

"R-right!"

"HEY! WE'RE TALKING HERE! AND WHERE THE HELL DO YOU MONSTERS THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"

I didn't bother looking over my shoulder to see the hobs run for the front. From the sounds of shuffling it seemed like those directly behind me were having similar thoughts as well. The pair drawing weapons certainly didn't help matters in their own case. If anything it permitted me to be a little rougher than I would have had to restrained myself to otherwise.

Case and point: when both fools decided to outright ignore me in favor of chasing the hobgoblins, splitting up to run past both my sides to do so, it was only a matter of patience and precision to reach up with me free hand, grab one by the neck and proceed to choke him whilst the other's skull audibly cracked when I merely dropped Evos to the side to naturally fall on him.

"HEY! LET GO OF HIM!"

Ah yes, you lot move now that your 'friends' are shown to not be up to the task—

CHANK! CHINK-CHANK!

Good luck with that, idiot. I did not survive as long as I did without making some improvements on my armor over the millennia. Sadly it didn't really matter much against especially powerful enemies (if it can make a mountain scream in terror you'd be an idiot to think armor stood a chance against it) or those that managed to pack enough "oomf!" in their blow if their weapons were enchanted in some manner to kill someone like myself on principle. That little dagger you're trying to cut my wrist with? Not happening.

CHINCHINCHINCHINCHIN—

"BASTARD!"

Should I bother molding Evos?

CLANG!

... nah. They're not with the effort.

A simple whack to the side sent the one that looked like a knight tumbling to the side like a ragdoll, his armor severely cracked. Maybe a rib or two broken. Either way he wasn't an immediate nuisance as I continued to strangle the bandit in my hand, my attention turned to the closest they had to mages. Mages who were evidently charging up their version of spellcraft to assault me with.

"Wind Slash!"

"Fireball!"

Any pretense of them being threats died a violent death as both spells were ripped at the seams. The fireball rapidly sputtered and died whilst the visible blade of wind practically vanished. A part of me simply desired to take the energy within myself in hope of perhaps recharging myself, vain though it was given my observations with the 'magicules' of this world and my attempts to truly restore myself with it. But I was simply too annoyed to give it more thought: a bullet of energy and nothing more for the each of them, borne from their own squandered spells, was what I decided. Both were knocked off their feet and groaning aloud with pain and confusion.

Out of curiosity I looked over to the 'knight' I smacked earlier and found him struggling to stand up even as he used the axe he was wielding as a prop to help him. He was barely more than able to lean on it with shaking legs when the telltale scuffle of armored feet barreling their way toward us reached my ears.

"What is going on here?!"

"You there! Let him go!"

And so I complied as they began to surround me.

The last remaining bandit dropped from my hand and flopped onto the ground like a landed fish, blue in the face and grasping his throat as he greedily sucked air.

"Now what is going on here?" what I can only assume to be the one in charge growled out as the others not pointing their weapons at me spread out to look over what remained of the robbers, alive though they were.

"Would you believe me if I say that they were attempting to rob and kill my group?"

XVX

Dwargon Jailhouse

"After cross-reference with your party, witnesses and some interrogating we can safely say that your story checks out. You're free to go."

Good to know. At least it certainly helps keep matters from becoming complicated.

"Thank you." The horned helmeted dwarf, different from the one who had me brought into their guard house, perhaps jail given the bars if the two weren't interchangeable, nodded and got up from his chair with the stack of papers in hand. It didn't take him long to retrieve the keys from a hook out of sight from my cell...

I'll be honest I was actually expecting more outside of humoring them. Granted I made it my business whenever I was in Sanctuary to keep a low profile, and that certainly meant staying as far away from being interned in prisons and the like, but...

Hm. It didn't matter I suppose. I had my little kicks with seeing the dwarves learn the hard way just how heavy Evos really was, and of me waiting patiently for them to come to the teeth gnashing conclusion of untying me so I could carry my own weapon with me all the way to the jail cell that I was now being released from. That and seeing them practically wail when their own weapon racks dangerously creaked under Evos' weight when I set it upon it when the time finally came; it irked me a little to have to set it on the corner like a walking stick, but I couldn't really blame them.

"Just try not to cause a ruckus in the city, okay?" the dwarf drawled in a half-tired tone as he opened the cell.

"That was my goal in the first place."

"Uh-huh."

"By the way," I asked as I left the cell—

"Yeah?"

"Would you happen to know any craftsmen looking for work, even in another village?"

The guards face, while set in the tired sort of neutral, sharpened by a noticeable degree without losing the general fatigue. "Can't say I know any personally. Why do you ask?"

I hummed. "I came across a village during my travels that could use skilled hands to either help them or at least teach them. Given how close they are to the Forest of Jura can you begrudge them with trying to better their chances of living?"

"W-wait, Jura?!" His jaw worked up and down in disbelief before he schooled himself with a cough, plus a hand covering his mouth as he coughed and cleared his throat. "Why would anyone live there? Last I heard that place went a little crazy for some reason."

I merely shrugged. "Some folk prefer the company of beasts than civilization for all its faults."

"Hrm," he grunted. "Can't say I particularly blame them given how some countries operate." He then closed his eyes so he could take a breath in relative rumination I suppose. "Anyway," he said as he returned his attention to me. "At any rate, like I said I don't know anyone personally who would be interested. Most of the folk you're looking at are most likely gainfully employed in some fashion and those that would consider it are either fresh out of apprenticeship or are so old they probably couldn't handle the stress in living in a place like Jura."

Good thing my hopes weren't that high to begin with. Pessimism for the win!

"But it wouldn't necessarily hurt to ask around at the shops I guess. There's probably a couple who want a change of scenery."

"Thank you," I say as I step into the small armory and retrieve my little magnum opus.

"Just don't cause any more trouble now, will you?"

"In my defense I wasn't looking for it in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah," he said as he shooed me out of the guardhouse and, ideally for the both of us, out of his life.

When I stepped out I took a moment to get a genuine look at the slowly widening valley before me that would've otherwise been hidden away by both the mountain and the all consuming gate sitting at its mouth. Given its general lack of exposure to the elements the buildings and even the streets were fairly clean by medieval standards despite the ultimately limited space forcing many of the buildings to be clustered together, then again compared to most cities it wasn't special in that regard. That aside as far as I was concerned the only thing truly interesting to me in the canyon-like cityscape was how it was lit. The braziers, torches and lamps were to be expected either to provide light or warmth for most people who weren't close to more private lanterns hung along shop walls and what I assume to be private residences, but for every one lit there were dozens more that were inactive. The true source of illumination for it all came from the sunlight peaking over the gate, darkening though it was with the passage of time, and aided further by a series of mirrors to help spread the light. As such it was only in places where the mirrors couldn't readily provide light, particularly areas that didn't favor markets or large gatherings, that these active fuel burners were located.

Simple but innovative. I like it. A little pick me up for my mood.

XVX

Dwargon city

I need another pick me up for my mood.

Store after store, smith after smith, leatherworker after leatherworker and so on and so forth, each of whom functionally only had one answer: "no". The only real difference between them all was the varying degrees of politeness and vitriol with each response. It would've aggravated me more if the worst of it wasn't aimed at me: the local minister Vesta seemed to have ruffled more than a few feathers with a series of demands for armaments, some more burdensome than others. In short there weren't many who had either the time nor inclination to truly consider my offer given that they were on a commission which was further exasperated by a time limit of two weeks (four days of which had already passed); given that there was no impending war from what I gathered the time limit had people scratching their heads if they weren't stressed by it...

There was a twisted opportunity in it all though.

More than a few mutterings were heard, talk of needing supplies, who or where to get it from and gossip. With the sudden influx of commissions it wasn't hard to imagine that supplies would be in high demand once the regular stores and stockpiles were ravaged. But that wasn't the important part per se. Even if unverified on my part Minister Vesta kept himself a list of names whom he had something of a grudge against. And the sad truth of the matter, even if I make no effort to proof the veracity of it, is that no being that had ever existed didn't have some sort of umbrage against another regardless of its justification or logic. As such it stood to reason I may have unwittingly found my targets so to speak—they above all stood the highest likely to receive particularly demanding jobs if only to vex them if nothing else. With everyone scrambling to gather supplies it also stood to reason that they, these 'select few', would also be hurting and in turn would get desperate.

Desperate enough to negotiate I would imagine.

It was time to test this hypothesis with this "Kaijin" person... Odd name, that. Sounded almost like something that came from Xiansai. Maybe there was a similar place here as well and circumstances gave him the name?

Regardless, finding him wasn't all that difficult by virtue of simply asking for directions. I even found one of my companions who seemed to be in the process of haggling with a trio of dwarves along the way, all three seemingly interested in the ore he had. Tempted as I was to wander over there to see how well it was going I decided against it in favor of searching for the blacksmith.

"Oh? If you're looking to commission something I'm afraid I don't really have the time at the moment," said the one I can only suspect to be Kaijin who happened to be facing in the direction of the door when I opened it; he was sitting on a stool with a sword on his lap, a rag in hand so as to either provide protection in gripping it by the blade or to perhaps polish it. "You see I'm a bit busy with another one at the moment, and it's due at the end of next week."

"I've heard. It seems a very large number of craftsmen were hit with orders and materials are starting to run short because of it. Especially the more unique ones."

Kaijin breathed through his nose before setting the sword aside on a nearby crate before returning his attention to me, his hands on his knees. "Alright. Let's cut to the chase: are you here to sell me what I need or are you here to extort my services for them?"

I would wryly smirk if I could. It didn't stop me from chuckling though as I decide to act on whimsy. "Oh I'm here to extort you for a terrible, terrible price," I say as I withdraw my bag from my hip and begin to root around in it. Before long I produced the mana bearing ore samples I brought to sell. From the widening of his eyes it seemed the small supply I produced definitely caught his interest. It and his face grew more dour as a grim resolve began to set in.

"And what exactly is the price for this boon then?" he dryly rasped.

"A very terrible price."

"You said that already."

"One which you cannot back out of!"

"... you're just messing with me at this point, aren't you?"

Damn. I never was that great an actor. Doesn't help that the majority of people I had to speak to over the ages were literal minded angels for the most part. Still, this was fun in its own way.

"Yep."

He let loose an exasperated sigh, his head ducking downward for a moment. "Just spare me and get on with it will you?"

"Alright, alright," I sigh in return. "It's actually quite simple really. Or at least relatively simple."

"And that is?"

"In short there's a village within the Forest of Jura I'm helping to build. I am here to recruit either people willing to apply their trade for this village or at the very least try to teach the villagers their skills before deciding to return to Dwargon. So I offer you a choice in this: you can be a part of this group that can either stay or at least teach the people there your craft, or, if you want, you can help me find and convince others to go in your stead."

The dwarf hummed softly as he scratched his beard in that seemingly inter-universal thoughtful pose. "Is it alright if I give you my answer after this job is finished?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not," I admitted. "But given that this is my property I hope you understand that I am not exactly keen on letting it out of my sight till a condition is met, used to craft your order or not."

The dwarf scoffed. "Fine then," he grumbled as he hefted himself up. "But if you're going to hang around my shop I fully expect you to pull your weight around here. Hope you know a thing or two about blacksmithing."

I snorted at that. I wasn't the Grand Artificer for nothing. Every weapon of material origin in the High Heavens at least been under my supervision in its manufacturing process if I wasn't the one directly crafting it.

... I certainly hope my subordinates in the workshop can take care of them now that I'm gone...

"You could say that."

Perhaps it was my tone or perhaps he was in an overall bad mood to begin with and I just exasperated it, but I only got the standard hum of acknowledgement of the "I heard you talking but I just don't care" variety as he went to the pieces of ore on display. He took one to inspect it personally only for his eyes to widen. He then squinted as he brought it closer to his eyes and began to look at it from all angles.

"Is something wrong?"

Startled, his head snapped to me as if realizing I was there for the first time.

"Ah, no actually! I'm just surprised that you managed to get your hands on magisteel despite looking like it was plucked straight from the ground! I don't think I ever heard of magic ore being refined beforehand."

Ha! Bored tinkering strikes in my favor once again! Suck it!

"And it's so pure to boot!"

I wonder how effective those potions I made from those cave herbs are. Would it simply affect one's health? Provide them with mana? How potent are they in their current state?

... a curiosity to explore for another time, if ever I suppose.

"So, are you ready?"

Startled from his newfound interest in the rainbow cluster in his hands, the dwarf nodded with a hum before cracking me a smirk. "Hope you're familiar with how to use a forge then."

"You could say that."

XVX

Clang-clang-clang-clang—

"Hey Kaijin! We got really lucky and managed to procure some high quality stuff!" someone belted the second the door slammed open. "Huh? Who are you?"

"Kaijin can explain better than I." When not in the mood, delegate. This was just too interesting to bother diverting my attention. Trying to keep my own energies from functionally changing this blade in the making alone made this a rather fun endeavor in its own way.

"I got myself a bargain as well!" Kaijin roughly stated. "And at the moment he's helping me complete the order because he didn't want his materials leaving his sight! Not that I'm complaining at this point though."

Not with a three sword, fourth one in progress, lead over your one head start you won't! Grand Artificer was not a title for show boy! Hahahaha!

... to be fair it was just the blades themselves at the moment, but the guards were next.

"Oh, Lord Jack!"

Clank!

"Careful now!" Kaijin chided without looking up from his own work. Urgh either way though... nothing a little cheating can't fix.

"You know him?" some other dwarf spoke up.

... oh please don't—

"He's the lord of our village!"

You're lucky I'm generally too lazy to bother smacking people upside the head. That and this sword requires my attention more than exacting admittedly petty grudges.

"Oh ho! Now it's starting to make a bit more sense," Kaijin grumbled with what I can only imagine to be a sly grin on his face.

Sigh.

"I was wondering about your relation to this village of yours once you picked up the hammer. While I can get that you want people of different trades to help out your village, looking at you right now though something doesn't quite make sense."

I grunt. Saying nothing on my part would only make the inevitable bought of relative silence more awkward for me as I would have to await for him to either succeed in baiting me to speak up or him to ask that obvious question at his own pace.

"If you're so good at blacksmithing why would you want me or someone else to train your..." He paused, I didn't as I finally dip the sword into the nearby barrel of water. While doing so I nabbed another ingot of magisteel and toss it into the smelter to heat it up. "Goblins?"

"Hobgoblins," I corrected.

"Hobgoblins? Hrm." As I watched the ingot slowly grow hotter whilst inspecting the blade his hammer continued to pound away at his own project. "Anyway. If you can work metal why not teach them yourself?"

The only reason I bothered with the tongs to retrieve the ingot was because it would cause less of a ruckus for anyone paying attention to me at the moment. "Because the ability to do something doesn't exactly equate to the ability to teach anyone more than the basics. Especially since from where I stand I might not have enough time to devote to make a solid effort if I even tried."

"Hrm. Fair enough."

A bout of silence ensued as I placed the onto the anvil and began to preparatory work. In the meantime I began to do the math in my head: five samples on my own person, two of which used so far in their entirety for a total of four—no wait, five, which I'm working on right now—blades proper and their as yet made hilts/handguards. So it stands to reason that the current rate of the stock I brought there should be enough for somewhere in the area of seven additional swords. With the added addition of one of my underlings, without looking? Probably another five given I carried most of the magisteel samples we brought into the city. Assuming I'm correct that should leave us with eighteen, leaving us short... with the stock I have left at the camp it wouldn't necessarily hurt to put all my eggs into one basket in this particular case, especially if you account for margin of error.

"Brock?"

"It's Hat, sir!" the hobgoblin answered dutifully.

"Sorry," I spout out automatically. "Could you see if you can find the others and, if they haven't traded their own ore samples, bring them here?"

"Right away my lord!"

"Hey, wait! Don't forget your payment!"

I hear a fairly hefty thump of metal on wood, muffled only by canvas. Tools then I assume.

"Hm? What exactly did you agree to pay him with?"

"Ah, uh, well, we did have a number of spare tools, and he was bargaining for them when we didn't have the coin to spare..."

"Ugh..." Kaijin groaned. "Fine. As long as we got a few spares for ourselves. Though this does bring to mind. Hey, Jack was it?"

"Let me guess," I groused as I shaped the metal before me, "You want to know if I'll be adding onto your bill by bringing in extra materials on my part."

"Exactly."

"No I'm not. Consider it a payment of good faith of my part."

"Thanks," Kaijin grunted.

And that was it.

No words were needed at this point, at least between the pair of us. The new company we had in terms of dwarves had busied themselves with other tasks well out of view, but each relating to help further cultivate our current stock of swords with detail work and, evidently, making the handles I decided to neglect in favor of crafting the blades first. As such we all fell into our own rhythms, one of work and mutterings well into the night...

A/N: I wish I had a better ending than this but sadly I couldn't think of any that I considered a 'natural' stop. I could go ahead and went with the inevitable inclusion of the tavern and departure, but there's always a 'but'. :P

In this case I just felt it didn't quite mix with the current chapter.

For what it's worth I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Monkeybandit2, making off with your attention. No refunds.