Southeastward Bound
Southeastward Bound
Waking to the sound of dawn breaking, Luwiming always began her morning with light exercise.
Having not skipped a single day in her long years, the exercise that now felt more awkward to skip than to do warmed her body up nicely and sharpened the senses that had grown hazy through the night. Confirming that her body felt loosened to a satisfying degree, Luwiming chewed on the bread she'd prepared the night before, retraced the path she'd walked identically for over a thousand years, and headed for the smithy.
The smithy, situated near a valley to avoid the hassle of hauling water, was somewhat distant from the village, but precisely that had been its most appealing geographical advantage to Luwiming, so this much effort was nothing at all.
By the time she arrived at the smithy and finished eating the large bread, the warmth she felt on her skin the moment she stepped inside made Luwiming tilt her head slightly.
"Winter's on its way now, I suppose."
The forge fire was fainter than usual. A day or two she might not have noticed, but seeing how it'd been like this consistently lately, she was certain. It was an exceedingly subtle difference, but for Luwiming, it was crucial information.
For someone like her, whose sense of time had shattered from swinging a hammer without paying any attention to how the world flowed, it was tantamount to a notification that a year had passed.
"Can't say if senselessly flowing years will win, or if I will, but for this year, I've won."
Chuckling at her own silly mutter, Luwiming fed Mana into the forge and began preparing to hammer the iron. She moved alone without a single assistant yet encountered no difficulty at all. The countless years she'd poured into the craft surely played a part, but so did the dwarves' technology, which continued to advance with each passing day.
"Time to mix metals and fight another battle with life."
Where should she begin working today? Just as Luwiming rested her chin in her hand and fell into contemplation while the forge preheated to a temperature suitable for magical alchemy, a noise reached her ear.
She couldn't decide whether to consider herself fortunate that a visitor had arrived just before she sank deep into thought, or to feel annoyed that they'd come first thing in the morning. Then the conversation from a few days ago suddenly flashed through Luwiming's mind.
"...Ah, the member of the Human Race the village chief mentioned."
The chief had called on her, wanting to show a measure of sincerity to a member of the Human Race who had not only executed a hunter that tormented their kin but had even gone through the process of offering prayers to the World Tree and receiving a revelation. Had that been... yesterday? Or three days ago?
Was it because she'd just listened with half an ear? Her memory was hazy. Still, she remembered agreeing that since such a unique achievement deserved high praise, she would make something useful if he was brought to her.
In any case, it was a planned visit. For a member of the Human Race who might even have received an oracle from the World Tree, crafting a piece of armor was no great burden, so Luwiming smoothed her furrowed brow, convinced herself of this, and rose to her feet.
Just then, a familiar voice came from the approaching visitors.
"Moving about from the crack of dawn without fail, Luwiming."
It was the Continental Common Language, established around five hundred years ago, so the guest had indeed come along. She'd been a little unsure whether she remembered it correctly, but trusted Cellevian to interpret if anything sounded too strange and opened her mouth.
"I just got here myself. Your gait's not your usual—did you drink too much?"
"This fellow here turned out to be quite the drinker."
Cellevian laughed and thumped the other man's shoulder, and a remarkably solid sound echoed even though he wasn't striking armor. The last members of the Human Race she remembered had blindly trusted in aura and neglected physical training. Had the world changed?
Well... enough time had passed that it wouldn't be strange if it had.
"When I heard that sniveling Asilie had caught herself a man, I wondered what kind of member of the Human Race it'd be, but it looks like she caught a fairly sturdy fellow. He's trained well, unusual for a member of the Human Race."
As she wiped her hands, dirtied from preparing for work, and walked toward the visitor, Cellevian burst into a wry laugh.
"As quick on the uptake as ever, I see. I couldn't get a good look either, but word is he's the sort who can wage war against a human lord's territory and walk out unscathed."
"...A lord's territory?"
"That's right. The count who was backing the Ear Hunter."
...Had the world truly changed?
In Luwiming's memory, a place called a 'noble's territory' was never a small affair. A count especially would be someone with considerable power. A directly managed territory would have had at minimum two knights at the aura expert level and at least a hundred soldiers.
Establishing a base with palisades or stone outer walls was the most basic of basics, needless to say. If someone had reached the aura master level, or if warriors on par with knights had exploited a gap and attempted a night raid, she thought it wouldn't be impossible—but the visitor before her eyes didn't give off that level of presence.
"By any chance..."
"If you're about to ask 'yet again' whether the world has changed while you've been holed up in here, I'll tell you now that it hasn't. It was exactly the kind of count's territory you're imagining."
"Huh. Impressive."
Unless Cellevian had developed a compulsive lying habit, there was no reason for him to come all the way out here and toss that out as a joke. Which was why Luwiming offered a handshake to the visitor with genuine admiration.
"Honestly, I was planning to make something decent and call it done... but hearing Cellevian's words, I'm thinking I should reconsider. I go by Luwiming."
"...I'm called Eldmia Ega. And, if it isn't rude, there's something I'd like to ask you..."
If Cellevian was right, this member of the Human Race was quite capable—and for someone that capable, remarkably polite. His voice gave away a little fluster, but the way he hurried to recover, apparently worried he might be rude, didn't leave a bad impression.
Which was why Luwiming smiled faintly, a rare expression, and preemptively answered the question the visitor wanted to ask.
"First time seeing a blind blacksmith?"
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At the words of the elf woman named Luwiming, spoken with no hostility and as lightheartedly as a tossed-off joke, I couldn't help but flinch.
Forget seeing one for the first time—I'd never even imagined I would.
The fact that I managed to swallow the words that had nearly jumped out in my genuine bewilderment was something deserving of praise. Though of course, if I had let them out for the sake of earning that praise, I'd have proven myself a bastard, so I'd had to keep my mouth shut.
Not only was there no hesitation in her movements, but both her eyes also shone perfectly clearly, so at first I thought it was strabismus. Or that she had some mental condition that meant she couldn't face a person straight on, something like that.
The fact that I was only certain after seeing her extend the handshake in a direction subtly off from me already showed that this elf was no ordinary figure.
Of course, the fact that she'd been a blacksmith for over 1,300 years was already extraordinary, but after witnessing the full sequence of actions she'd just displayed in front of me, that had become something that didn't even qualify as a footnote among the shocks.
"It's from a life spent seeing too much fire. It's not that there's no way to fix it, but since I never leave the village, it's not particularly inconvenient, so I just leave it be. You don't have to be so flustered."
I hadn't known there was more to be shocked by, but here she went and broke me one more time.
You can get it treated but you're just leaving it? When I looked at Cellevian in disbelief, he shook his head and ended the entire explanation with a single shrug of his shoulders.
That's just how she is, that meant. Truly an elf who'd been digging the same well for 1,300 years. She wasn't normal.
I wanted to sneer at myself from a few dozen seconds ago, who'd been shocked merely by the fact that she was a female elf blacksmith, and tell him the world was far wider and stranger than he thought.
"My apologies."
"Not really. Yours was one of the best reactions I've gotten, even among people who took it well."
The force in her rough handshake was enough to instinctively make a person tense up and send a stiffening chill down their spine. The conspicuously developed upper body muscles, clearly discernible even through her clothes, were no mere decoration. I tried to smile through it and pull my hand from her grip, but instead of ending briefly, her vigorous handshake continued alongside an expression that was oddly tinged with curiosity.
"You're awfully young. Feeling-wise, I'd say you're not even twenty, am I right?"
"...Fif... teen... I am."
Was she perhaps not actually blind? Was she just pretending to be blind to mess with me? If that was the case, I wished Cellevian would give me a signal soon. Because I was getting goosebumps crawling down my forearms.
But regrettably, she disproved my hypothesis completely by making an expression of considerable surprise.
"Has the world changed...?"
Given Cellevian's reaction earlier too, it seemed that staying in the village for over a thousand years had turned that into a sort of verbal tic of hers. But contrary to that expression, Luwiming, who had me in her grip, boldly began kneading my forearm and shoulder.
And that grip strength of hers was no joke. Did this really come just from doing blacksmith work? The gap in experience was so vast I couldn't tell. Because she was palpating me with an extremely serious expression, I hadn't even had a chance to feel uncomfortable or offended before she tilted her head once more and asked.
"...Hmm, strange. You're built a lot like the Demonfolk, whose bodies develop through Magic Power. You're sure you're a member of the Human Race?"
Her hands were still in contact with me, so I had to exercise truly superhuman patience just to suppress even the flinch.
Was that it? That thing about other senses developing in place of sight? Was this what happened when that continued for nearly 1,300 years?
It was a level of ability that made me instinctively understand her claim that being blind wasn't an inconvenience.
"...Well, my parents were members of the Human Race, at least."
"...Interesting. How about a simple spar with me?"
"A spar?"
"Yes, a spar."
The words I might have said—that no matter what, sparring with a blind person left me with some psychological reluctance— never made it out. That was because before I could even react, Luwiming strode back into the smithy, haphazardly grabbed two swords from the pile of over a dozen that lay scattered without scabbards, and returned just as she was.
And even doing so, she hadn't sustained a single scratch on her hands.
"This ought to be similar to the weapon you use, right? I'm no beginner myself, so don't worry too much. I swung one around for about eighty years before I got into this work."
What's more, the sword she handed me was similar not just in length but even in its center of balance to my own sword.
"...I look forward to learning from you."
I still hadn't escaped the shock of the sight I'd witnessed, which I could still scarcely believe even having seen it myself, but that was the only answer I could give.
She was clearly what people called a hidden master.