Chapter 353: Beast

"The Leonard kid has been moving."

"So I’ve heard."

Andre tilted his head.

"That why ye came?"

"Partly. Came to see what’s happening with that."

"What’s happening is every other damn clan and guild is doing their best to fuck him over."

The Fist King sighed.

"It has always been that way in the Tower."

"Aye."

Andre filled both cups again.

"No one likes seein’ someone else move up."

"Especially when they think that person might reach somewhere they couldn’t."

"Or somewhere their old men couldn’t."

The Fist King gave him a look.

Andre shrugged.

"I’m a smith. Climbers gossip around me all day while I fix the shit they broke. I hear things."

"You encourage them."

"Course I do. Gossip gets better when folk are drunk."

"A respectable trade."

"I have standards."

The Fist King looked around at the cluttered workshop.

"No evidence of them."

"Fuck off."

That earned another laugh.

Andre leaned back farther, balancing the chair on two legs.

"What a shame, though."

"What is?"

"All of it."

He gestured vaguely with his cup.

"Clans. Guilds. Families. Every time someone starts climbin’ too quickly, half the Tower stops wonderin’ how far they can go and starts askin’ how to trip them."

"Competition."

"Cowardice."

"Usually both."

Andre grunted.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"Ye think the kid will make it?"

"Kael?"

"Who else?"

The Fist King thought about the question.

"With everyone looking for him?"

"They have yet to identify him."

Andre smiled.

"So I’d say he’s doin’ a good job."

"He’s difficult to track."

"That anonymous nonsense helps."

"Not forever."

"No. He’ll be mak’in waves too high"

Andre’s chair settled back onto all four legs.

"Someone will figure it out eventually."

"They always do."

"You’ll protect him?"

The Fist King answered without hesitation.

"Always."

Andre watched him.

That answer seemed to amuse him even more than the praise from earlier.

"Nothin’ special going on with him, eh?"

"Drink your wine."

"Aye, Master."

The Fist King’s eye twitched.

Andre laughed.

"He should be somewhere in the teens by now."

"Floor Eleven, around there."

"Fast."

"He’s slowing himself down more than the Tower is."

"That sounds like him."

Andre swirled the wine in his cup.

"Still can’t help him?"

The Fist King shook his head.

"He needs to reach at least Floor Thirty before I can offer anything meaningful."

"A lot of climbers stop before then."

"Yes."

The Fist King drank.

"Even more die before then."

Andre’s expression hardened for only a moment.

Then he reached for the clay pot again.

"I gave him some runes."

The Fist King looked up.

"Anything good?"

Andre shrugged.

"He liked them."

"That wasn’t what I asked."

"That’s what matters."

"You gave him garbage, didn’t you?"

"I gave him useful garbage."

The Fist King laughed.

"Then he probably did like them."

"That kid looks at a rune everyone else throws away and starts wonderin’ what he can bolt it onto."

"That is part of why I like him."

"Aye. Dangerous habit."

"Usually the useful ones are." The Fist king finished his cup.

Andre poured the last of the wine into his cup, then noticed the pot was empty.

His expression became personally offended.

"That went fast."

"You drank most of it."

"Yer bigger. Should’ve brought more."

"I’ll remember that next time."

"Bring the good stuff next time."

"No promises."

Andre placed the empty pot aside.

"Speakin’ of runes, I heard something recently."

The Fist King leaned back.

"What?"

"A rune."

"That narrows it down."

"Legendary."

The Fist King’s amusement disappeared.

"Where?"

"Don’t know yet."

"You just said you heard about it."

"Heard about it. Can’t get me hands on it."

"What rune?"

Andre rubbed one thumb along the edge of his cup.

"This one’s a bit unusual."

"Most Legendary Runes are."

"Aye, but this one has history."

The Fist King waited.

Andre finally looked up.

"It’s called Beast."

The room became quiet.

The Fist King’s cup stopped halfway toward his mouth.

"...Wait."

Andre nodded.

"Ye’re not talking about the broken rune?"

"Same one."

The Fist King set his drink down.

"That thing has ruined climbers. And made monsters into worse monsters."

"The fragments have."

"Some of them went feral."

"Aye."

"Lost their minds."

"Aye."

"One ate his own party."

Andre frowned.

The Fist King leaned forward.

"You’re saying someone found another fragment?"

"No."

Andre shook his head.

"That’s the point."

The dwarf’s expression had become far more serious than at any other point in their conversation.

"I found the original."

The Fist King stared at him.

Andre continued.

"The broken pieces affect the user. Change instincts. Twist thought. Push the body to whatever beast the fragment remembers until the person using it can’t tell where they end and the rune begins."

"I know what the fragments do."

"Aye, but this isn’t one."

Andre tapped one finger against the table.

"This one is whole."

The Fist King’s gaze sharpened.

"You inspected it?"

"Never could, but a reliable source did."

"And?"

Andre leaned back.

"The fragments are unstable because each one is tryin’ to express somethin’ that was never meant to exist alone. A claw without the creature. Hunger without instinct. Instinct without thought."

"And the original?"

Andre’s eyes narrowed.

"Complete."

The forge crackled behind him.

"Whatever Beast was supposed to be before it shattered, this looks like it."

The Fist King remained silent for several seconds.

Then his eyes shifted toward the workshop door, as if he could somehow look through floors and worlds toward the climber currently fighting his way through the Tower.

Andre noticed.

"Don’t."

"What?"

"I know that look."

"I didn’t say anything."

"Ye didn’t need to."

Andre pointed a thick finger at him.

"The kid already has Anchor."

The Fist King smiled.

"Yes."

"And now ye’re thinkin’ about what happens if the same lunatic who makes garbage runes useful gets his hands on one of the original Legendary Runes."

The Fist King picked up his cup again.

"It crossed my mind."

Andre groaned.

"Should’ve kept me mouth shut."

"Too late."

"Aye."

The dwarf sighed and looked mournfully at the empty clay pot.

"Definitely should’ve brought more wine."