Chapter 80: Jack the Ripper
"Because you are weak, because none of you have successfully gone beyond class seven, you need me."
Pretending to be Jack the Ripper meant picking a particular personality. He chose to stick to a calm, regal composure, except with a slimy edge. A creepy edge where he eyed the woman with the intent to kill. He looked over his shoulder at Grace and would let his gaze linger for too long.
Daughter remained unfazed, to his actions and to his words. "We do. We do not shy away from that fact. Our existence is a delicate thread woven from the insecurities of many guilds. We are hired by everyone and are respected by none."
"How unfortunate."
"Tell me," Daughter said, "what do you plan to do with the Eitr-forged iron we gave you? We immediately suspected you of reincarnation the moment you request Xavier of it. So what is it? What will you be forging?"
"What indeed..."
"Infamously, Hephaestus does not work in the forge. The last time he did was after your time, in the Golden Games when the Grand Master of the Templars was able to find resources for his personal weapon. To be able to receive Hephaestus’ support, you must pique his interest. Will he be interested in what you make?"
Dasha tilted his head, almost humming. "I am very certain he will be."
Daughter narrowed her eyes. "Can you be sure?"
"Absolutely."
Grace muttered to Xavier, "Talk about vague." He heard it. He decided not to acknowledge it.