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  Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company.

  DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI

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  Act One:

  Homesteading, The Artificer’s Way

  Chapter Ten:

  The Delicate and Intricate Art of Gnollish Diplomacy

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  After scoring a bed at the Hostess of Fertility for the week, I went straight to the guild the next morning to take mister Mardeel up on his offer to help me purchase some land.

  The Guildmaster had taken no time at all to welcome me in and roll out a gorgeously drawn map of the city that was more a piece of artwork than a navigational aid; Reminiscent of the maps drawn during the Age of Exploration from my human side's own world. Complete with hand drawn and stylized crests of the major families used to denote the large swathes of territory they lay claim to. The buildings and city blocks were meticulously color coded by district and purpose. Orange for industrial, blue for residential, yellow for storefronts and so on.

  Which made the massive amount of black staining a good chunk of the north-west of the city and pock-marked throughout the map stand out even more.

  Royman and I had been going back and forth on the subject for more than an hour now, with him pointing out a building for sale that meets my needs and extolling its virtues. Inevitably however, either the insane price tag or the ridiculous demands of the seller would draw a derisive snort from me and he’d move on to the next listing without a word.

  “What about this area, is there anything for sale there?” I had finally interrupted his pitch for a basic ass two story residential home in the middle of nowhere, pointing with a single claw towards one of the large sections of strangely blacked-out squares on the map; Causing the rotund elf across from me to visibly flinch.

  While my attention was still focused on the map, I could still hear the man nervously lick his lips before answering me in a sigh. “How… How well versed are you in Orario’s history, mister Maddic?”

  Turning my attention back to Royman, I looked him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Just the basics, unfortunately. I focused more on modern history with the short time I had in Loki’s library.”

  His sea-green eyes got a bit misty as he forcefully broke eye contact to stare a hole into the map between us. “Modern history, hm? Then you would know of the group Evilus, and the horrors they unleashed on our city…”

  Feeling my own eyes widen in shock, I looked back to the map and poured over it with new eyes. And what I saw was… A horrific amount of black squares scattered throughout the city, the largest collection of which must have been hundreds of buildings spanning the entire north-western ‘spoke’ of the wheel-shaped city.

  Holy fucking shit.

  “Terrorists did this?” I gasped now that the gruesome truth was revealed. Those books had all been frustratingly vague on what had actually occurred between the mysterious group and the defending adventurers. The only thing they mentioned of note was that Evilus had a predilection for using explosives indiscriminately. But with the results of that conflict quite literally painted out before me…

  Royman’s brow twisted in confusion as he looked back up at me. “‘Terrorists’? I am afraid that I’m unfamiliar with the term.”

  “A catch-all word for cowards and monsters who attack the defenseless and innocent in order to indirectly hurt a nation or ideal that they’re too afraid to face head on. Then they have the god-damn gall to claim some sort of righteousness for whatever cause they kill for.” I’d have spit to the side… If I wouldn’t be hogging a loogie onto the Guildmaster’s fancy silk rug. Both Max and I are unfortunately well acquainted with the concept of terrorism.

  Fucking Ravangers.

  The elf stared at me in horrified shock before letting out another shaky sigh. “What a terrible thing to have to coin a term for… Apt, in this case- But terrible. Well, to answer your question mister Maddic, those black marks denote buildings that were destroyed, heavily damaged, or worse- Occupied by the enemy during the fight against Evilus. They’re left as-is, partly out of respect to the dead, but mostly because it was deemed that the cost to reclaim them far outweighed the rewards.”

  Seeing my confused glance, he elaborated. “Those… ‘Terrorists’ were dreadfully skilled at somehow turning monster stones into improvised explosives. All of the buildings they stayed in for any amount of time became death traps for any who dared to enter. To this day, we still lose several people a year to unexploded traps. By guild law, the site of any new construction that takes place within the city limits needs to be meticulously inspected by a specialized team for leftover bombs before the work can begin.”

  As the man continued to speak, I couldn’t help my paws from clasping into fists of white-knuckled rage. That all sounded very, very fuckin’ familiar.

  Swallowing back a building growl, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared down at the map as though it had personally offended me. I knew property would be expensive here in this so-called ‘Labyrinth City’, the unofficial capital of the world; But the truth was that good property wasn’t difficult to buy–

  It was all but impossible.

  And now I knew exactly why.

  With nearly one-tenth of the city rendered uninhabitable, both the economy and housing market would have tanked hard. With the desire for more land spiraling in freefall, along with what property was left becoming a priceless commodity that forced landowners to sit hard on it…

  Out of curiosity at the beginning of this little meeting I had asked Royman what he would value a place like the Hostess of Fertility at.

  For a decent sized three story tall business front situated right along one of the main thoroughfares and only a few minutes away from Babel? The guildmaster said he wouldn’t sell it for anything less than fifteen million valis. And if it went up for auction like most property does these days? That number would skyrocket far beyond anything I could hope to afford for the moment.

  Prices did become a bit more reasonable the further away from the city center or the main roads you got, but at the same time- So too would your profit margins shrink the farther your potential customers would have to travel in order to find your business.

  Drumming my fingers along my arm, I stared hard at one of the largest clusters of black buildings lining the western-most main road, highlighted in the enticing orange of industry. Overlaying the entire block was an emblem consisting of a stylized volcano mid eruption crossed by two riveting hammers.

  The official crest of the Hephaestus familia.

  “...Are there any laws against selling black-marked buildings?” I finally asked after a moment of contemplative silence.

  Royman’s faced twisted into a slight grimace after he followed my eyes towards the block I was focused on. “No, no- It’s more of a ‘buyers beware’ sort of market. With property already being so expensive, very few people want to bother with the cost of hiring specialists to clear out the bombs and bodies on top of the usual overhead associated with refurbishing damaged buildings. Though, you’ll most likely find that the predominant reason people might refuse to sell to you would be one of… sentimentality.”

  “You see, mister Maddic-” He then paused for a moment, with his hands clasped together and head slightly bowed, before continuing- A slight waver in his voice. “Evilus had a nasty habit of striking non-combat oriented familia’s directly in the heart… Usually by targeting them in their own homes. What you are looking at right now was the original home of lady Hephaestus- The Etna Volcano. While her familia may find their new home in Valka’s Crimson Chamber, I sincerely doubt the goddess of fire and blacksmithing would give up her old hearth and forge for anything. Let alone what trinkets we mortals could ever hope to offer in trade.”

  Staring at the still slumped elf until he was forced to look me in the eyes, I could only ask him the one singular question on my mind. “Why? Why the attacks, why the bombs? What the hell was their goal?”

  “Officially, Evilus was a rebellion and failed coup against both the guild, and the up and coming familias that were primed to take the places of the failing Zues and Hera familias. Five different gods and their children banded together in a secret alliance, hoping to take advantage of the power vacuum left in the wake of the ill-fated battle against the Black Dragon. When their initial ploy failed, they resorted to using partisan tactics in their war of conquest against the city.” He then took a deep breath while closing his eyes, his hands clasped tightly into twin fists of suppressed rage. “That is the official reason why Oario was forced to suffer ten years of hell.”

  “...And unofficially?” I quietly prompted in the pregnant pause that followed his speech.

  While I had no idea how old the elf before me actually was, at that very moment? I swear I could see in agonizing detail- Every single last year of his long lived life etched deeply into the lines of his face when he finally opened his eyes to meet my own. “‘Unofficially’, we have no idea what truly drove them to plunge Orario into a living nightmare. The few we were able to capture alive all gave conflicting testimonies, but most of them seemed to believe they were the holy vanguard of some new ‘Dark Era’. A time where the hedonistic and depraved would rule, living out whatever sick and twisted desires they wished.

  These accounts were understandably omitted from most of the history books. Out of respect for the dead, if nothing else. No one wanted to know that they’re loved ones were murdered just because monsters wearing the skin of men wanted to live out their vile fantasies. Although, even their reasons for fighting weren’t as wicked as their gods’ were.”

  The weary, aged elf didn’t even need urging from me to continue his thought after a short, distracted lapse. “It is an unstated, but widely held belief that the gods who instigated the rebellion did so for no other reason than that they simply thought it would be fun to play the role of the villain. That the world was too peaceful, too boring…”

  He petered off then, sinking into a choking, heady stillness before sucking back a gasping sigh. “Forgive me, mister Maddic, but some wounds need more than time to heal from. Almost a decade later, but sometimes I swear I can still feel the walls shaking...”

  I offered the man my own version of condolences by voicing with a growl the one thought bouncing around in my skull. “Fucking animals.”

  That seemed to startle the man back to the present with a surprised chuckle. He gave me a mirthless smile in thanks for shaking him out of bad memories. “Elegantly put, mister Maddic. ‘Fucking animals’, indeed.”

  With a sigh, I leaned back into my chair and threw my head back to stare at the intricately molded ceilings. How the hell did a simple errand to look at property listings turned into a discussion of terrorism and unrepentantly evil gods? Bitch of it was, it was looking like this meeting was going to be for nothing, and I wasn’t even going to be able to buy a store at all! With the current economic landscape, the city seemed to care far more about who you knew, rather than how much you had. There's no way in hell that Mama Mia could have scraped together the cash needed for her little bed and breakfast without Demeter footing both the economic and social bill.

  No helping it I guess, looks like I’m going to have to get down and dirty in the political trenches if I want to carve out a little slice of this city for myself.

  Giving the map a final once-over to commit a few interesting properties to memory, I gave the guildmaster my profuse thanks for both his help, as well as the crash course in local history before taking my leave.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  It was time to darken the doorstep of Orario’s premier craftswomen.

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  The suffocating, perpetual haze of smoke! The unending thunder of hammers striking metal! The roaring flames! The nigh unbearable heat! The several thousand person strong chorus of cursing, swearing, and haggling ringing out through the morning air!

  It all came together in a beautiful harmony. The ubiquitous symphony industry, a form of music known to all craftsmen across the endless multiverse.

  It felt like home.

  It was a struggle to keep a smile from stretching across my muzzle at the heart-achingly familiar sight. But I was here for Serious Business, so I couldn’t afford to be seen galavanting around with a goofy grin on my face gawking at all my fellow blacksmiths as they plied their trade.

  The transition from the city proper to Hephaestus’s crafting district was far from subtle. With the luxury mansions and high-class apartments suddenly changing into an seemingly unending chain of squat foundries and open-air workshops separated only by a single street. Block after city block reserved solely to the art of crafting, with each smithy representing seemingly every possible discipline under the sun. At this very second I was passing a glass-blower effortlessly spinning a small potion bottle into shape while his neighbor to his left worked with a sewing machine-like tempo riveting iron plates onto a leather jerkin, with the other to his the right hammering out horseshoe after horseshoe around the horn of his anvil; Rarely needing more than a single strike to force the steel into shape.

  The farther into the district and closer I got to Hephaestus mansion, the more exotic and specialized the work became. Iron and steel was replaced with adamantium and mithril. While war material like swords and spears became the norm rather than civilian goods.

  I drew more than a few eyes from craftsmen and customers alike as I strolled down the main street; Their expressions varying wildly from curious neutrality all the way to what might have been simmering hostility. But thankfully, none interrupted me as I passed.

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  Standing before the comparably humble abode of the Greek goddess of smithing, I could instantly tell that the proprietress valued functionality and practicality far more than she did mere aesthetics. Rather than the extravagant pleasure palaces that most of the gods I’ve seen lived in, Valka’s Crimson Chamber was a simple square brick and mortar building that took up an entire block. I could spy several large industrial-grade chimneys rising high into the sky from somewhere in the middle of the structure.

  While much of the building and its grounds were shielded behind a marble guardwall, I could still make out the elaborate iron muntins in each window that helped break up the harsh lines comprising the rest of the building and added some much needed flare to its strictly utilitarian design.

  Although the two pike-wielding guards flanking the gated entrance to the mansion gave me a side-eye as I approached, neither moved to stop me as I passed them with a shallow nod. Without so much as a single faltering step or wandering eye- I stomped down the cobblestone path leading up to the front door like a soldier marching to war.

  My softer, untested human side would not help me in the coming negotiation. No amount of HR mandated office etiquette seminars or PR training would aid me in this endeavor. Because none of the skills I’d cultivated over my short career of navigating twenty-first century office politics would be of any use in convincing an immortal being to sell me her ancestral home filled with terrible memories and the desiccated bodies of her loved ones.

  No, If I wanted any chance at all at this Hail Mary succeeding?

  Then I needed Max, and I needed him in his entirety.

  I needed his strength, his daring, his smithing acumen, his many and varied magical skills- Hell, even his equally varied and numerous neuroses!

  I need it all, but most importantly–

  What I needed was his audacity, and his irreverence.

  So, leaning back into the instincts of the gnoll within me- I, Instead of calmly opening the door or knocking like a normal, functioning adult- Shouldered it open with a resounding bang and just strolled on through like I owned the damn place.

  A rather plain looking human man, whose only distinguishing feature was a painful looking burn scar marring his left cheek, shot nearly a foot into the air in fright from his seat behind a luxurious wooden desk. What must have been one of Hephaestus’s secretaries gaped up at me in open-mouthed shock, the scroll in his hands instantly forgotten.

  Disregarding the human for the moment, I tilted my head back towards the ceiling and breathed in deeply, searching for any hints of the Goddess' distinctive scent. When the fresh tang of hot metal and burnt charcoal mixed with the indescribable yet unmistakable essence of divinity hit my nose, I started following it with the unerring accuracy of a bloodhound. The man and his startled cries of “Excuse me sir!?” continued to be ignored as I made my way deeper into the compound.

  With one very confused and alarmed pencil-pusher on my heels, I stalked down a crystal-lit corridor. Passing room after room filled with lavishly decorated offices in total contrast to the building's mostly pragmatic exterior. Up a couple of flights of stairs and a few more corridors later led me right up to a single unadorned wooden door.

  Continuing to trust in Max’s instincts, I knocked with a bit more force than what was strictly necessary rather than forcing my way in. When I heard Hephaestus’s muffled and slightly confused voice inviting me in, I muscled open the door to reveal the personal office of the goddess of the forge herself.

  True to the rest of the building, her office was far more utilitarian in design than luxurious. Bookshelves lined the wood-paneled walls, cramped with old books and dusty tomes. Two closed and shuttered windows framed each side of a modest desk- Behind which the Hephaestus sat; Her sole eye widening in surprise to see me taking up the doorway with my furry bulk.

  Surprise, which quickly bled away into excitement as she quickly stood up from her chair; A eager smile growing on her lips to match the joy in her eye. “Mister Maddic! It’s a pleasure to see you again! I tried to catch you earlier, but Lady Loki said you weren’t taking visitors until after the Denatus. But where are my manners! Come in, come in- We have much to discuss.”

  Leaving the utterly flummoxed secretary in the hall, I sauntered my way in before immediately freezing when I caught the briefest flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. There- sprawled out lazily across one of the two couches bracketing a small coffee table and staring at me with open mouthed shock was none other than The Goddess of Home and Hearth herself.

  Swiftly suppressing my own surprise at finding one of the few canon characters I could recognize on sight in Hephaestus’s office of all places- I took a second to scrutinize the deuteragonist of the setting before me.

  What immediately became evident was the implausible fact that she looked and dressed exactly as she was depicted in the show.

  The blue-eyed, shortstack goddess had the same pigtails, the same bizarrely shredded virgin-killer dress that looked like she got into a fight with a blender and lost, and of course- the same improbable proportions.

  Her poor back must look like a damned candy cane.

  Quickly shaking away the troublesome thoughts, I ignored the distraction for what she was and turned back to the only one in the room that mattered. Bowing slightly at the waist- just a hair shy of being truly respectable- I greeted the Matriarch seated behind the desk. “Hello again, Pack Lord Hephaestus. And yes, we have much to discuss.”

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  It was very, very quickly becoming difficult to keep a vicious grin from my lips as the creature masquerading as human across from me got visibly angrier and angrier; The previously welcoming and excited goddess gone with the wind. In her place was a scowling, red faced, and furious woman who had been forced to sit there while I flippantly rejected every single one of the reasons she believed I was here.

  No, I was not here to grovel at her booted feet, begging her for the privilege of having my soul magically seared with her divine cattle brand.

  No, I was not here to plead on my hands and knees to be the lesser party in a business partnership with her.

  No, I was not here to beseech her for an apprenticeship so she could grace my meager self with her divine skill at crafting.

  What I was here for however…

  “Let me get this straight!-” Hephaestus hissed out through gritted teeth, her sole eye glaring at me in righteous fury. “You barge into my home, throw my more than generous invitation into my familia back into my face- And then attempt to strong arm me into selling my ancestral home to you for a pittance! A home you openly admit you plan to turn into a rival workshop to my own?!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous-” I snorted, waving her words away with an errant paw as if they were a bad smell. “My workshop will be infinitely superior to this… Hovel you call your own. I mean, really? You’ve been down here for how many centuries again? And a single administrative building surrounded by a few crude foundries is the best you can do?”

  You know… Staring at the goddess across from me as she was practically frothing at the mouth, mere seconds away from having some sort of fit; I couldn’t help but wonder: Can gods get aneurysms?

  Because the scientist within me was eager to find out.

  The normally cool and collected Goddess of Fire and Craftsmen looked like she was all but about to leap across that table and strangle me herself. Propriety and appearance be damned. For I, the insignificant mortal that I was, had dared to come stomping into her office and claim I was the better craftsmen; To claim superiority over one of her core Aspects and Domains.

  Gods have done far worse than simply smite mortals for far less.

  But here, with her divine essence locked away as it was, all she could do was sit there impotently and grind her teeth as I layered injustice after injustice on to what was previously a nice and normal day to her.

  She was so close to breaking, all she needed was one last push. “-And I’m not looking to buy the whole complex; Just that ‘L’ shaped warehouse along the Western most road. Surely that old thing is worth a lot less than the fifteen million I’m willing to pay for it.”

  Hephaestus was at this point so livid that she had seemingly gone non-verbal. All she could do was level a look that would have curdled gasoline at my stupidly smug face. The coying, condescending smile playing upon my muzzle not dimming a wink in the face of her towering rage did nothing but drive her further and further up the wall.

  Damn… I mean did come in here fully anticipating on leaning into Max’s monstrous ego… But at some point during the conversation I seemed to have forgotten what was an act, and what was actually our, My, towering pride and competitive nature roaring to life in the face of who many in this world consider to be the undisputed greatest craftswoman.

  But easily the funniest thing about this whole situation, aside from Hephaestus' face steadily turning redder than her hair, was that Hestia had- for some ungodly reason- decided to stay and watch this shit show. With a pillow held out in front of her like a shield, her head bounced back and forth between the two of us as we all but screamed obscenities at each other; Looking as though she was watching a live tennis match where the ball had been replaced with a live hand grenade.

  And secretly enjoying every second of it.

  “I know!-” I suddenly shouted in the ensuing silence, happily pretending as if my next words weren't the goal all along. “I heard you gods have an interesting way of settling disputes here in Orario. If you really won't sell your old abandoned property to me for my more than reasonable asking price, then how about we settle this… With a Wargame! Hephaestus, I officially challenge you- to a Smith Off!”

  The goddess went slightly cross-eyed staring at the tip of my claw as I dramatically pointed my paw at her, before a ray of dawning comprehension lit up her face and blew away her prior rage.

  Totally ignoring my claw in her face, Hephaestus slowly rose from her chair- staring off into space muttering to herself all the while. “So that's your game? That's how you want to play it?”

  Her eye snaps back to my own as she slams both her palms to the desk, leaning forward as she did so until we were literally nose to nose. “Unfortunately Maddic, Wargames are regulated for familia versus familia conflicts only. Normal citizens cannot issue nor accept them. That does not mean, however, that the two of us cannot have an informal competition between the two of us-”

  As she spoke, a feral grin slowly grew across her face, matching my own inhuman simple tooth for tooth; While the oh so delicious fires of competition roared to life in her crimson eye. “So very well Max. I accept your challenge. We will meet in… Let's say three days hence at the Amphitheatron- Where we will both craft any one item of our choosing. Our creation will then be judged by an impartial panel of three randomly selected crafting gods residing here in Orario. Should they rule in your favor, I will give you the warehouse you seek for free. But- should I win, Maddic, you will join my familia- And the first thing I will teach you as my newest apprentice smith, is humility.”

  Her piece said, she held out a single dainty hand out with an expectantly raised eyebrow; Though her fierce grin had only grown in the ensuing silence.

  A silence that was quickly shattered by my own rumbling laughter. Reaching out, I engulfed her small hand in my paw and gave it a firm shake, fighting my own excited cackling to get a word in edgewise. “Sounds like fun, Hephaestus!”

  “May the better smith win!”

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  Author notes:

  Ya, im not really happy with this chapter either. Aside from feeling like many of the paragraphs are placed out of order; A part of me feels like I'm rushing to get to the meat and potatoes of the story I want to tell, while another part of me feels like I'm going too slow. This chapter should push me to somewhere around 54k words, and I feel like i’ve been stuck on the whole ‘still getting established’ thing for a bit too long. But IDK, thats also a big element of what I want my story to contain, the culture clash between a monstrous looking being and an entire society of people who do nothing but kill things that look similar and harvest their body for parts.

  Anyway, I can kinda rest easy now that the hard part is over. From here the story is really going to take off plot wise, and I cant wait to hear what you guys think of it!

  Please remember that I am primarily writing this fic to get better as a writer, so if you have any criticism or critiques, please feel free to share them; I cant get better without your feedback!

  Next time on Hyena Werks, the obligatory tournament arc!