What Is the Sword For? (1)
"[Would it not be wise to procure a new sword?]" the Holy Sword suddenly remarked.
I was in the middle of my sword training. Recently, my mastery had progressed to the point where I could instantly comprehend the telepathic words she casually tossed my way. The Holy Sword seemed to have taken a keen interest in instructing me of late, and I, too, found a quiet pleasure in swinging my blade and following her guidance.
Even after hearing her suggestion, I prioritized finishing my forms. Taking a step forward, I delivered a vertical slash. The sharp ring of the blade cutting through empty air echoed around me.
"A new sword?" I asked, sheathing the Holy Sword and wiping away my sweat with a towel.
Late summer. August was drawing to a close. As if determined to leave a burning impression before its departure, the summer sun blazed more intensely than ever, baking the earth. I shook my head at the waves of heat radiating upward with every step I took.
"[You draw dual blades whenever you are in a pinch, but you cannot simply borrow a sword from someone every single time, as you did during the fourth Calamity.]"
I frowned slightly and nodded. Wielding dual swords undeniably boosted my combat power by a significant margin. Even if I usually relied on the Holy Sword alone, I always needed to be prepared to draw a second blade. After all, there was no guarantee that someone would always be standing by my side to lend me theirs.
Clenching and unclenching my left hand, I recalled the feel of the treasured sword Grand Duke Quenor had lent me in the North. While it paled in comparison to the Holy Sword, it was still an exceptionally fine and sturdy weapon that didn't lag too far behind.
"[Do you think such weapons simply fall from the heavens?]" the Holy Sword chided, her voice turning slightly sharp.
Whose fault is it that my standards for weapons have skyrocketed in the first place? I thought.
"[...At any rate, while such weapons are forged from superior metals by master craftsmen, they truly come into being through the accumulation of time, history, and mana. Rather than searching for a weapon like that—or one like me—your priority should be finding a sturdy sword that fits your hand perfectly.]" For some reason, the Holy Sword's tone quickly softened.
I tapped the pommel of my sword with my finger and looked up at the sky. "An armory, a blacksmith..."
A single blacksmith shop came to mind—the only one I knew of. In the original novel, it was the place Aryen visited to replace his broken weapon after rescuing Isis. Since I had only read about it in text, I didn't know its exact location, but I figured I could wander around the Blacksmiths' Guild district and look for it.
"[If you are truly lost, I shall assist you in your search. I can at least offer enough counsel to ensure you do not make a poor choice.]"
True enough. When it came to evaluating swords, the Holy Sword's eye would be far superior to any human's. I gazed down at the hilt, which was engraved with the likeness of a flower crown. I wonder how long it takes to forge a sword? There was no harm in getting it done early, so I decided to head toward the Blacksmiths' Guild.
Marianne was likely at the church today, Georg was with the knights, and Daphne was busy organizing the magic and mana theories she had developed back in Evernode.
"Well, shall we go?" After preparing briefly, I stepped out of the office.
By "briefly preparing," I meant donning a deep green hood in this sweltering summer heat. Ever since I defeated the Giant, the number of people who recognized me had surged, forcing me to wear a hood whenever I went outside, even for a short trip. Fortunately, I could circulate my mana to ward off the heat to some extent; otherwise, I would have been drenched in sweat the moment I stepped out.
Moreover, my destination was the vicinity of the Blacksmiths' Guild, a place boiling with the heat of active furnaces. It wouldn't be surprising if my skin got scorched there.
"Master craftsmen aren't called masters for nothing." The difference between a masterpiece and an ordinary sword was palpable from the moment one gripped the hilt. The weight. The distribution of the blade's balance, the hardness, the durability. And how responsively it reacted when I channeled my mana through it.
"[If you do not find one to your liking, you can simply commission another. It is not as if you lack the funds.]"
That's true, but still. It's better to get it right the first time.
I was finally growing accustomed to the layout of the Royal Capital's alleys. Roads radiated outward from the royal palace like a spiderweb, with buildings packed tightly in between. The blacksmiths' alley lay just to the left of here.
The sound of striking metal was deafening. I had barely entered the vicinity of the alley, yet the rhythmic clanging of hammers already reached my ears. Grinders sat scattered along the streets like mat vendors, their eyes fixed intently on the waists of passing pedestrians. They were searching for anyone carrying a worn or dull blade.
"[If we are unlucky, they might ask to draw me as well.]"
Just then, a man entering the blacksmiths' alley was caught by a grinder. He carried a worn sword on his back, and the grinder practically dragged him over to sit opposite his mat, demanding to see the weapon.
When the man naively drew his sword to show him, the grinder clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk! This needs sharpening immediately! Why on earth have you neglected it like this?!" His scolding voice drifted over. I turned my gaze back forward.
"[They are casting glances at you as well.]"
Well, people who come here to get their weapons sharpened usually stand out. They keep glancing at the grinders like someone visiting a fish market for the first time. They shouldn't make eye contact like I'm doing.
"[...It is a fascinating sight.]"
Indeed. It's quite chaotic.
The heat of the furnaces already filled the streets. Passing by blacksmiths absorbed in hammering hot iron, I approached one who had just finished a sword and hung it on the wall.
"Not taking customers right now," the blacksmith said bluntly.
"I'm not here to place an order. I'm looking for a specific blacksmith. Do you happen to know where Georges's forge is?"
The blacksmith narrowed his eyes and looked at me. "Georges? That fellow is off today. He'll probably be back tomorrow. Why, you looking to commission him?"
"Yes. Could you tell me where his shop is located?"
The blacksmith nodded and pointed deeper into the alley. "See down there? The third forge on the left. That's Georges's place."
"...Thank you." I bowed slightly to the blacksmith and turned away. Around me, the other smiths were still busily hammering iron and stoking their fires.
"[What will you do? Since the blacksmith you sought is absent, shall we head back?]"
I pursed my lips. Still, since the Holy Sword had offered to help me evaluate the weapons, there was no harm in looking around the neighboring shops. "Would you mind helping me?"
"[If I spot a forge crafting a decent blade, I shall let you know. Though I can assure you, it was not that last one.]" The Holy Sword was quite scathing when it came to judging swords. I let out a wry smile and walked deeper into the alley.
"[That blacksmith is not bad, but I doubt he can forge a blade suited to you.]"
"[Not this one either. He merely makes weapons that look flashy on the surface.]" The Holy Sword's standards were incredibly high. But then, this was a weapon to be wielded by the Hero. Settling for a mediocre, "good enough" sword was out of the question. I followed her guidance without a word of complaint. If anything, the prospect of having a custom sword made had left me feeling a bit excited.
"[If we find nothing, we can visit the blacksmith you had in mind tomorrow. I did not expect there to be so few capable of forging a blade worthy of you.]"
"Let's just check a few more places before we head back," I said, stepping into a side alley lined with relatively small-scale forges. It seemed to be a gathering place for novice smiths or stubborn, eccentric craftsmen who rarely took on bulk orders. Unlike the main street, which echoed with a chaotic symphony of clanging metal, only the occasional, sporadic sound of hammering could be heard here.
"[It seems this place is no different,]" the Holy Sword remarked after observing the first two shops. Her words about fine weapons not falling from the heavens were proving true. I kept my eyes peeled as well, but none of the blades I saw managed to satisfy my standards either.
"I guess I really have to come back tomorrow..." That would be the safest bet, but still. I let out a sigh and was about to turn back at the end of the alley when I caught sight of a blacksmith. A blade was nearing completion. It wasn't a sword, nor did it look like a weapon meant for combat. It was likely just an ordinary kitchen knife. Yet, as the blade was pulled from the etching acid, it captured my gaze more intensely than any weapon I had seen today.
"[...Did you see that?]"
"Yeah."
That's the one. A powerful, almost certain intuition washed over me. As if possessed, I approached the blacksmith, who was currently wiping down the kitchen knife with a cloth.
She was a tall female blacksmith with lean, well-defined muscles. Her hair was tied up in a high bun to keep it out of her way while hammering, and she was dripping with sweat from the combined heat of the summer and the furnace. She continued working on the knife, then suddenly spoke up to greet me.
"What brings you here, handsome?"
"I'd like to commission a sword."
The blacksmith looked up at me. Her gaze was as sharp as any knight's. She had orange hair and green eyes. After studying me intently, she wiped her hands on her apron—hands that were heavily calloused and scarred from burns.
"If you want a sword, there are plenty of people who can do it better than me. You didn't need to come all the way down here. Just head over to the main street and walk into any forge; they'll make you a fine blade."
"I've already looked around there. None of them were up to my standards." I gestured slightly toward the main street and shook my head.
The blacksmith rested a hand on her hip and stared at me. Her eyebrows, smudged with iron dust and soot, furrowed. "If those didn't satisfy you, then there's nothing my forge can do for you."
"You can't fool a discerning eye," I replied, looking down at the kitchen knife she had just finished. The blacksmith followed my gaze to the blade and let out a soft sigh.
"I don't make swords. I'm sorry, customer, but you'll have to look elsewhere."
I stared at her. Her eyes held a firm, unyielding refusal.
"[It will be difficult to find any other place capable of forging a better sword than what this blacksmith can make,]" the Holy Sword's voice echoed in my mind.
There could be no compromise. To face the Calamities, I could not afford to settle.
"Is there really no way?" I reached into my pocket, pulled out a blank check I had intended to use for the sword, scribbled a figure on it, and placed it on the counter.
500,000 gold.
I didn't think this was an insufficient amount to commission a single sword. After all, when else would I spend the budget allocated to the Hero's party?
The blacksmith's eyes widened as she looked at the amount written on the check, before narrowing once more. She placed her hand over the check, hesitated for a moment, and then pulled it back.
"With this much money, you could go to the finest forge in the kingdom and have them make whatever sword you want, even without my help."
"I will cover the cost of acquiring the materials separately."
"I'm sorry. I don't make swords. No matter who asks. Even if the Hero or the Queen herself came here to beg me... I still... wouldn't..."
I immediately pulled down my hood.
The blacksmith locked eyes with me and blinked in sheer disbelief.
"Why on earth are you the one standing there...?"