Beast Devourer: I Grow Stronger by Eating Monsters

Dunvar smelled like metal before Raven could even see its walls.

Smoke from the foundries covered part of the horizon in a gray haze that had nothing to do with the weather. As the road descended from the hills, stone chimneys came into view, followed by black-roofed warehouses and enormous wooden structures built directly against the mountains. Mana-driven chains raised and lowered platforms loaded with ore from terraces carved into the rock.

Raven slowed his horse slightly.

He had expected a mining city.

Dunvar looked more like an industry that had accidentally grown a city around itself.

Heavy caravans entered through a separate road from ordinary travelers. Every wagon carried metal identification plates and at least four guards. Some transported raw ore beneath thick tarps, while others carried ingots stamped with the seals of noble Houses or guilds. Even from outside the walls, Raven identified three separate inspection points before they reached the gate.

Valeria followed his gaze.

”Don’t make that expression.”

”Which one?”

”The one where you calculate how long it would take to infiltrate the place.”

Raven pointed toward an elevated platform running along part of the wall on metal rails.

”I’m still trying to figure out how that works.”

”Earth mana and pulley systems. The dwarves sell better ones, but Helmont prefers keeping most of the infrastructure under human control.”

”Sounds inefficient.”

”It’s also politically convenient.”

Roland rode several yards behind them with the supplies and part of the material recovered from Transfer Station Four. He looked toward the chimneys.

”I miss Greyhaven.”

Raven glanced back at him.

”Why?”

”Back there, when someone wanted to take your money, they used a knife.”

Valeria smiled.

”Here they use forms.”

Raven studied Dunvar’s entrance again.

”Then this is probably worse.”

The main gate had four separate lines.

Travelers.

Merchants.

Mining companies.

Regulated ore transport.

Raven chose the merchant line because they were carrying Keller Mining documents.

The certificate recovered from the station worked better than expected.

The inspector barely looked at Raven before recognizing the seal.

”Keller Mining. External inspection?”

Valeria answered before Raven could.

”Materials and refining.”

The man checked the signature, passed a crystal over the document, and watched the runes in the seal respond.

Authentic.

That helped.

”You may enter. Restricted materials must be declared before leaving the city. Any purchase of regulated ore requires authorization from the appropriate guild.”

Raven pointed toward a smaller line on the form.

”Black Mithril?”

The inspector looked up.

”Especially Black Mithril.”

Naturally.

Dunvar was divided by money.

Not literally.

Almost.

The districts near the outer wall were packed with workers, taverns, smithies, and homes stacked wherever space allowed. As they moved toward the center, the streets widened and the buildings shifted from timber to stone. Companies replaced painted signs with engraved metal plaques.

Higher still, on an artificial slope overlooking the city, stood the noble residences.

From there, they could see everything.

Raven doubted that was accidental.

Valeria pointed out several structures as they rode.

”That complex belongs to the Refiners’ Guild. Those three large foundries belong to Helmont. Keller controls several smaller facilities to the north and two trade routes.”

”And the mines?”

”Fragmented. Legally, many concessions belong to companies. In practice, nearly all of them answer to a House.”

Raven looked toward an enormous building flying a black-and-gold banner.

”Then buying metal should be simple.”

Valeria looked at him as though he had just made a joke.

”Of course.”

Raven had not intended to make a joke.

That was a bad sign.

They found lodging near the commercial district and left Roland in charge of the horses while Raven and Valeria visited the authorized magical-material market.

Raven’s first impression was that Dunvar had exactly what he needed.

His second was that no one wanted to sell it to him.

There was Black Mithril everywhere.

Bars.

Ingots.

Plates.

Even unfinished weapon blanks.

Most pieces sat behind rune-protected glass and came with extensive certificates of origin.

Raven entered the third shop displaying regulated materials without requiring an appointment.

The merchant was short, broad, and had hands far too clean for someone who had ever worked in a mine. He smiled the moment he recognized Valeria.

”Lady von Nacht. I wasn’t expecting a representative from your House.”

”He does not represent my House,” Valeria said.

The merchant’s enthusiasm dropped by approximately twenty percent.

His attention moved to Raven.

”Then what are you looking for?”

”Black Mithril.”

”That I can provide.”

For once, something seemed easy.

The man opened a case and placed three small bars on dark velvet.

Raven picked up the first.

FORGE responded.

[BLACK MITHRIL SAMPLE]

[Purity: 31.2%]

[Structural Uniformity: MODERATE]

[Mana-Pressure Tolerance: INSUFFICIENT]

[Prototype Rifle Suitability: REJECTED.]

He picked up the second.

[Purity: 34.8%]

[Structural Uniformity: MODERATE]

[Mana-Pressure Tolerance: INSUFFICIENT]

[Prototype Rifle Suitability: REJECTED.]

The third was worse.

Raven put the bars down.

”I want better.”

The merchant kept smiling.

”What level of purity?”

”I don’t have an exact minimum yet. Above sixty percent. Preferably much higher.”

The smile disappeared.

”That is no longer ordinary commercial merchandise.”

”It’s still Black Mithril.”

”A ceremonial sword and a battlefield sword are both steel. That doesn’t mean they have the same restrictions.”

Raven pointed toward the second bar.

”How much for that one?”

”One hundred and forty crowns.”

Roland would have suffered a medical event if he had heard that.

Raven had enough money to buy it.

It was still useless.

”What about high-purity material?”

The merchant studied him more carefully.

”Do you have a license?”

”I have money.”

”That wasn’t what I asked.”

”Then no.”

Valeria was already smiling.

Raven ignored her.

”How much does the license cost?”

The merchant gave a short laugh.

”It isn’t for sale.”

Raven looked at him.

”Everything is for sale.”

”You can buy influence, a company, or even a mining concession. The license still requires approval.”

”Then it costs influence, a company, or a concession.”

Valeria covered part of her smile with two fingers.

The merchant was beginning to understand what kind of customer he was dealing with.

”Black Mithril above fifty percent purity is classified as a strategic material. Above sixty-five, nearly all of it goes through military contracts, authorized Houses, or registered projects. If you want a significant amount, you need to justify its intended use.”

Raven considered writing:

Artificial firearm constructed from monster organs.

Probably wouldn’t help.

”What if I only need a small amount?”

”That depends on what you consider small.”

Raven described roughly the amount FORGE had estimated for the barrel, chamber, refinement margin, and expected material loss.

The merchant stopped looking amused.

”That is not a small amount.”

”I don’t need a wagon.”

”You don’t need a wagon because Black Mithril of that quality is worth more than most wagons filled with silver.”

Raven looked at Valeria.

”I already miss the monsters.”

She smiled openly.

”I told you civilization was dangerous.”