“We seem to be in agreement on that.” The goblin, while not having a grudge as deep as Thoth's, had not forgotten the potential threat to his life. “You are more than welcome to peruse when you are not needed.”

  “Then I should don a form more appropriate.” The demon began to shrink down to the size of a regular person; the cloak of feathers wrapped around his body and changed into a strange yet fashionable shape; and the owl-like features reduced as the beak receded inside and a more human mouth took shape. After the transformation, he appeared like an elf with dark skin, dressed in a stylish suit, with a pair of glasses manifested over his hollow black eyes, hiding the horrid stare that was behind them. “What are your orders then, master?”

  “Armand is more than fine, Thoth.” The goblin was taken aback but well aware of the more fantastical features of demons. “I am of a similar mindset; I am but a servant and protector to this great dungeon. I seek knowledge to protect this place I love, and hopefully one day gain the means to take vengeance on the goblin who destroyed what I loved most.”

  “We are indeed of the same mind then.” The demon said, “Then I ask again, what do you plan to do?”

  “That’s a good question; I have not decided yet.” There was a lot on his mind; he really just wanted to read the books and work on shoring up his defenses. “What do you see as a viable threat as of the moment?” The goblin asked the demon.

  “This place is poorly guarded.” The demon immediately pointed out

  “Not entirely,” the goblin said defensively as he mentally called for Fenrir to come. The Warbeast sped over as fast as it could and sat before them; despite sitting, it still towered over them.

  “It is a mediocre start; you need far more of these to be a threat.” Thoth took one of his fingers and placed it on the metal construct's surface as it easily pushed through the metal. “While the enchantments are of quality, the base metal is pathetic.”

  “That is part of the reason I summoned you; I can only recreate materials I have seen so I need some of your hellfire to make hell-forged steel.”

  “Still a subpar material but for a pinch it would work.” The demon was looking around. “Do you have no way to transfer some power to me?”

  The goblin hadn’t considered this possibility. “I frankly do not know. Generally, I have to imagine something and in exchange for mana, I can then recreate it. When that happens, sometimes it is created a little off; I then have to try again till I achieve something like what I want. However, when I make something that I worked on with my own hands, I can create it exactly. Additionally, one time, we had another resident for a time here and her parents' tavern kitchen manifested. I had never seen that kitchen and yet it appeared.” Amand explained, “Additionally, it seems the better I understand something, the less mana it takes to create it.”

  “Curious.” Thoth reached over and tapped the goblin on the head, and within Armand’s mind appeared a demonic-looking vessel filled with sloshing blood. “Please try to create this…” The goblin saw no reason not to and imagined it as the demon asked; it took a fair bit of mana but it inevitably appeared within his hands. He passed it over to the demon in question. Thoth promptly popped the top off and brought the sanguine fluid to his thin lips. He breathed in deep and let out a sigh that contained a touch of disappointment. “It tastes as fabulous as I remembered; however, it lacks the effects of the original.”

  “Pray tell what I had just created.” The goblin was a little worried about what he may have just summoned for the demon in question.

  “I was so fortunate to grace a soiree at the demon king’s palace; they served a beverage there. Believe it or not we demons greatly enjoy the finer things, and the Demon King himself had brewed awe-inspiring wine. Aged for three thousand years and brewed from the finest ‘ingredients,’ each of us only got to taste one drop and archdemons all got a cup, while the demon king himself enjoyed a bottle just like this one.”

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  “Do I dare ask the ingredients?” The goblin asked, a little worried.

  “Well, the reason I could tell it was fake was the lack of subtle flavor mandatory for all wine.” And an evil grin spread across Thoth’s face. “Tormented souls.”

  The goblin shuddered at the reveal and did not really want to continue on that line of questioning. Shuddering every time he spied the bottle that the demon was holding like a prized possession. “Well, what do you think we can do to improve our Warbeasts?”

  “Mithril is not the most efficient mithral for your magic circles; you should be using alchemical gold. The hellforged trait is applicable to any type of metal, as long as you use hellfire to temper it.” Thoth gave out some direction: “I would make the base of the creature mithral; it will make your warbeast impossibly light despite its size.”

  “That is potentially a lot of mana for just one creature.” The goblin countered.

  “Normally I would suggest an inferior material since it would lead to your quick demise. It would destroy my newly reclaimed library.” The demon frankly replied, “Do the job right and it will lead to less work in the long run.”

  “True,” he thought for a moment. “What are the requirements for metal to be hellforged then?” The goblin had access to a living encyclopedia; he might as well use it. Thoth took another swig from the jar.

  “You need to melt it with hellfire and forge it by hand, infusing mana in with every strike.” The demon told him.

  “So I need to smith it.” The goblin surmised.

  “Indeed,” The demon took another swig, obviously intoxicated with the demon king’s wine.

  “Do you know how to smith?” The goblin inquired of the demon.

  “In theory, yes. In practice, no.” He succinctly replied, “Knowledge was always my obsession; I had no desire to apply it… Not unless it had a potential payoff.” A frog-like grin spread across the demon’s face. “More than a large number of people sought me for access to forbidden or lifesaving knowledge and I took great pleasure in availing them of their questions, for proper payment, of course.”

  “Okay so I need to figure out how to smith. What do I need?” The goblin asked. The demon lazily tapped the goblin on the head again and he could see the stuff needed for the undertaking: a forge, anvil, tools, the works. He created another room and filled it with everything Thoth showed him. The demon clearly felt done dealing with him as it wandered off into the endless library.

  Now, the goblin did know where to begin his studies; a previous hammer-wielding dwarf had unintentionally left behind many smithing books. Of all the things dwarves were known for, the excellence of their craft was definitely one of them. Luckily the contents of the library had not shifted too much and he easily located the books in question. He selected one that he had his eye on for a while, The Drunken Dwarf’s Detailed Smithing Manual. He also moved the books to the smithing room to prevent Thoth from moving them before he had completed his research.

  He created a worktable in his smithy and set the book upon it. Quickly flipping through the pages, he quickly absorbed the information. With the sheer quantity of books he had been reading, he had become quite the speed reader. Standard smithing required heating metal and shaping it with a hammer and tongs into the desired shape. He would need to practice working with metal before feeling confident enough to sculpt something of similar complexity.

  The goblin summoned a hunk of iron, set it upon the anvil and grabbed a pair of tongs. Grabbing the iron with the tongs, he then placed it within the flames of the forge. He stared at the flames, wondering how hard it would be to replace them with hellfire. It didn’t take long for the metal to become glowing hot. Grabbing them once again with the tongs, he placed the luminescent hunk on his anvil and grabbed his hammer. He prepared his first strike. He hit a bit too hard and the metal hunk nearly went flying off the anvil; it had flattened significantly. I should probably do this a bit lighter and hold onto it with the tongs, the goblin thought to himself. He kept hammering away, not really seeking to create something in particular but rather just trying to feel how the metal behaved.

  Every strike sent vibrations into him; the rhythmic clanking became a song. Each crescendo of the hammer was soon accompanied by the chime of deformed metal. No wonder the dwarves treated smithing as both art and entertainment. He hammered away till every part of his body ached, his stomach growled, and he was covered in a thick layer of sweat. The first day of smithing had passed, but it was only the first of many.