Day 18: The Smith-Off

Tiny / Huge

It was a cloudy night. Melisse looked up from the tower balcony at the moon’s red glow. Above her, the star-speckled veil reached towards the horizon and beyond. From the top of the Demon Lord’s Castle the world seemed to roll out before her.
It was lonely up there.
She felt lonely all the time.
At least from that vantage point, the world seemed lonely too. And that made her smile.

Clop. Clang. Clop. Clang. Clang-clop.
Melisse didn’t bother to look away. She was comfortable leaning on the railing and enjoying the view.
In all of Royal Makai, only one person made that kind of noise. And only one person would think to bother the sixteenth daughter of the Demon Lord when she sought solitude.

“It’s a pleasant night, Welma.” Melisse said, toying softly with the petals of the blossom under the railing, “Isn’t it?”
"It’s always pleasant in the Demon Realm, my lady.”
“Indeed. And it is always night.” She turned to face the minotaur in spiked armour, lifting herself up on the railing as she crossed her legs,” I’m not in the mood now. Please go away.”

“You did not attend your single-stick class earlier, my lady. I am simply worried.”
“Worried, you say?” She kicked herself off the railing, pacing along the balcony floor, “You have nothing to worry about, Welma. I didn’t attend any fighting class because it doesn't interest me. I only ever did so in order to please Father.”
Melisse traced her gentle finger along the grotesque relief fashioned into the castle wall.

Welma snorted, folding her arms over her chest. Smoke shot out of her nostrils, “My lady, with all due respect… The world is dangerous out there! No one gets far without learning how to defend themselves! Least of all the daughter of the Demon Lord! If anything was to ever happen to you…”
“Attack me.”

Melisse strode closer. Her expression betrayed not the slightest hint of hostility or reckless impulse. She bore the same face of introspective calm as always.
“My lady… I could never…”
“I insist. You have my permission. Regardless of the outcome, I take full responsibility. No harm shall come to you. You were worried. Is that not what you said? I merely wish to offer my assurances. Attack me.”

Welma knew better than to respond to such provocations. Yet the warrior within her cried out to test her mettle. Before her stood a daughter of the Demon Lord. The epitome of power and beauty. The prospect of trading blows with her made her mouth water.
She gripped her cleaver axe, the black head joining with the shaft in an elaborate helix. Melisse was no taller than one ell and a third, and she had the graceful petite build of a dancer. Welma stood over her like a towering titan of black demonic iron.

She went for it.
She stepped in. Her ax already in full swing. Straight for the princess’s neck. It sliced empty air.
She was gone.
The bull charged ahead after the princess, howling as she hefted her ax. One way. Then another. And another. All in a frenzied flurry. But it was all for naught. Like chasing the wind.
Her target moved in swift motions. Impossible to predict, with a deliberate resolve in her every action. Not one blow landed on the white haired succubus, and it was painfully clear why. One does not simply out-tornado a tornado.
Melisse spun on her toe. Her legs snapped apart in a wide kick at Welma's face. The tip of her crystal shoe flashed past the bull, barely missing her nose, leaving the gold highlights of her short rust-coloured hair to flutter in the drag. With a double flip backwards, the princess brought herself to a fluid landing. One foot first, and then the other.
Even before the decapitated head of Welma’s axe clattered to the floor.

“Nothing out there is more dangerous than me.” Melisse declared, lifting herself back up on the balcony railing, “I don’t need fighting lessons.”
Welma fell to her knees, crestfallen, to gather up the remains of her precious weapons.
“...Didn’t need to destroy my baby to make that point.” Welma grumbled.
“I’m sorry. Actions do speak louder than words.” Melisse said coldly, “Will you be all right?”
“Yeah.” Welma snorted, “Don’t worry about me. Was about time I got it replaced anyhow.”
“Good. Then I bid you good night.”

The minotaur raised her head in time to see the princess dip back, toppling down behind the balcony.
“What? No!” Welma shouted, sprinting up to the railing to look over. She saw Melisse rise once again, riding the lift under her pearly white wings. She soared through the starlit sky, softly yet with unmatched quickness. In the moonlight she appeared as a captivating shadow, then drifted away until she became nothing but a speck in the distance.
Welma clenched her fists, leaning over the balcony, then shouted, “It’s not just about overpowering your enemies, princess! Learning to fight is about control too!”
She was answered by her echo only. Even if the succubus princess could hear her, she would undoubtedly choose not to listen.

Welma sighed. Either way, she would get to learn it. One way or another.
The minotaur turned and walked back into the tower, the remnants of her weapons in her arms.
Clop. Clang. Clop. Clang…

Later, in the blacksmith Guild Hall in Succubus Castle Town…
“All right, ladies! Listen up!” Welma shouted, dropping the ax-pieces on the table, “I now find myself in sudden need of a new weapon! Ah, good old Desiderius! We had an amazing run, didn’t we? Guess I went a bit hardcore on the brats during my lessons. Well... I ain’t running no cooking class. You won’t see me pulling my punches for nobody! Even if that’s the Demon Lord’s kids!”
The trim woman with a single large eye and messy red ponytail raised her hand.
Welma pointed dramatically, “Greeley?”

“So what you’re saying is… You want us to make a new weapon for you?”

“No, I want you to dance like a bunch of **** gibbons while I play the cahoot. For the love of darkness.. Yes! I want you to make a new weapon!”
“Jokes on you!” The dwarfette seated in the corner giggled, “I dance to the cahoot anyway!”
Welma waved dismissively, “Maldia, you can do whatever you like. As long as I get my weapon, I could care less. I’m one of the top commanders in the Demon Lord’s Army, dammit!”
Her fist crashed on the table, making the entire room shake, “I have to be prepared for battle! Always! Ready to lead at the front!”
Greeley raised her hand again.
Welma pointed again, “Yes?”

“So… Which of us are going to make the weapon?” She asked, her index finger shifting between herself and the dwarf.
Both cyclops and dwarves lived in the mountains, and both are renowned blacksmiths in the monster world. But apart from that, they couldn’t be more different. The dwarf was tiny and easily fired up, while the cyclops was timid but huge in her build. In fact, before the current age of monsters, the cyclops were giants that towered over buildings.
Welma grinned as she approached Greeley’s seat, “I’m glad you asked! See, I was thinking… What’s the number one ingredient in any quality wares?”
“Love and care?” Greeley suggested.
“Nitroglycerine! Boom!” Maldia cried out.

“The number one ingredient in any quality ware is competition! See, both of you are the top of the line when it comes to weapon crafting. But if you think that means I’ll be happy with whatever odd hoshjob you toss together overnight, then you’re sorely mistaken. This time, you gotta outdo each other in order to get paid! I’ll be the judge! Let’s see if you can rise to the occasion!”
Maldia stood up on her seat and started bouncing, “All right! Yeah, you’re on!”
Greeley raised her hand. Again, “Miss Welma, I don’t think…”
“And just to sweeten the pot,” Welma waggled her finger, “The loser also gets tied up and tossed into the Devil Bug pit.”

Greeley winced at her seat, resting her hands on top of her closed thighs.
“Is that a problem Greeley?”
The cyclops wanted nothing but to strenuously object to that deal, but her pride as a blacksmith and a guild member forbade her from rejecting the request.
She shook her head violently.

“Good.” She stood up and walked out of the guild, “Meet me by the Demon Lord's Castle in a quarter month's time. Then we'll see what you’ve got. Make sure not to disappoint.
Clop. Clang. Clop. Clang.

Greeley looked down at the eager little pack of personality beneath her, and knelt, “I’m sorry, little one. It might seem selfish, but… I really can’t stand the idea of having those creepy crawlers scuttling all across me… Having their way with me.”
The cyclops shuddered. Then she patted the dwarfette on her shoulder, “I hope you won’t judge me when I take home the price.”
Maldia scoffed, slapping her hand away, “Don’t get cocky on me! You think you’ve got it in the bag before we’ve even gotten started? Well, here’s a reality check for you, missy! I’ve got the skills! I’ve got the drive! So don’t you dare look down at me!”
“Ah, oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just… Well, we cyclops… We live for making weapons. It’s in our blood. So… Yeah. We sort of can’t help but see the wittle ones with those spindly arms as having a bit of a handicap.”
The dwarfette spat, “You think you’ll win cause you’ve got a bit of a brawn? Lady, you’ve got something else coming for you! After all, what good do those beefy arms do if you’ve got nothing between your ears?”
Greeley pouted, looking away, “That’s… A bit mean…”
Maldia pointed at the cyclops angrily, “It’s cause you’re looking down at me! You’re looking down at dwarven kind! You and your mammoth mammaries and them thighs that end lives! Listen, you better not dare to give anything but your hottest take for this gauntlet! Cause when I’m done with you, then I’ll be damned if you come up with any excuses!”
“I see…” Greeley blinked with her one colossal eye, “But we can still be friends, right?”
“...You’re not making this easy, you know?”