A Sword for What Purpose (2)
I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly and looked at the blacksmith. She was still blinking in sheer disbelief. Well, it was only natural. Of all the analogies I could have used, I just had to bring up the Hero.
"Could we perhaps have a word?"
The blacksmith's expression contorted with complex emotions. I had originally intended to keep my identity as the Hero a secret, quietly commissioning the sword and slipping away. But to persuade this woman, I had to resort to this. That was how strong my premonition was—that she, and only she, could forge the perfect sword for me.
The blacksmith crossed her arms and stared at me. It was obvious at a glance that a fierce conflict was waging within her. She brushed past me, closed the forge's door, and pulled down the blinds. It was a preemptive measure to keep any unwanted noise or attention from leaking out.
"...If you truly are the Hero, I suppose we can at least talk."
The blacksmith pointed to a table at the edge of the workshop. I nodded and went over to sit down. She untied her apron, wiped her sweat, and went to the basin to quickly wash her face and hands. Shaking off the water, she lifted her head to look at me.
"It's a bit hot in here. Are you alright with that?"
"Yes. I don't mind."
She walked over slowly and sat opposite me. Now that the soot and grime were washed from her face, she looked at least five years younger. She was probably around Elroy's age. Sitting there, she stared intently at my face for a long moment.
"You really are the Hero. I never imagined such a famous figure... let alone the Hero himself, would visit my humble workshop."
She muttered to herself, pulling her chair closer. Though her voice and tone were lively, her eyes seemed to wander somewhere between vitality and deep exhaustion.
"I came to the Blacksmiths' Lane because I needed a sword. But as I mentioned, the works of the other smiths didn't quite satisfy me. I originally planned to visit Master Georg's workshop, but I was told he is taking a day off today."
"Then why didn't you just wait until the old man returned? Why come all the way here? He's a prickly fellow, but his skills are undeniable. And he would never refuse a request to forge a sword for the Hero."
Her tone wasn't accusatory; she sounded genuinely curious.
"Just in case. There's no need to stubbornly cling to only one master when there might be other hidden talents out there. There's no harm in keeping my options open."
I glanced toward the grinding wheel. On a nearby table lay various iron goods—chains, kitchen knives, ornamental crafts, and even iron bars. None of them were ordinary. She had likely forged them all herself.
"And then, I happened to witness you working on a blade. In that very instant, the option of visiting Master Georg vanished from my mind."
That was explanation enough. The blacksmith herself knew better than anyone just how magnificent her blades were.
The blacksmith narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze shifting to my left hip.
"But, Hero... you wield the Holy Sword. Do you really need another blade?"
I lightly caressed the hilt of the Holy Sword and nodded.
"Yes. Circumstances have led me to wield dual blades, so I need a sword to accompany the Holy Sword."
"...Wait, you're entrusting such an important task to a place like this?"
"I am entrusting it precisely because it is this place."
A blacksmith who gave me absolute certainty, whose skill was so great that even the Holy Sword strongly urged me to commission her. I couldn't let her go.
"So, please, will you take on the task of forging my sword?"
The blacksmith bit her lip before letting out a long sigh.
"...As you guessed, Hero, I used to forge swords. Though I've sworn never to make one again."
She covered her right hand, resting on the table, with her left.
"May I ask why? You don't have to answer if you'd rather not."
"No, it's nothing grand. It's just such a personal, ridiculous reason that I'm a bit hesitant to tell the Hero. Other blacksmiths would probably laugh if they heard it."
She let out a bitter chuckle. I simply watched her in silence.
"...Looking at me with that face, I guess I have no choice but to tell you."
Her green eyes clouded over as she drifted into her memories.
"I started blacksmithing with my father when I was very young, and I heard plenty of praise for my talent. I practically lived in the forge, but I was happy. I love striking iron. I love shaping it, and more than anything, I love seeing the fruits of my labor completed and sent out into the world."
Her neatly folded hands clenched into tight fists.
"But... I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility and guilt over the fact that the creations I sent out into the world would be stained with someone's blood. At first, it was fine. News of who used which sword rarely reached my ears anyway. But..."
She furrowed her brow.
"Five years ago, news reached me. In a border dispute with the neighboring Kingdom of Venicia, a few knights who had bought my swords performed exceptionally well. They praised my blades, saying they could easily cleave through enemies, armor and all. My workshop became quite famous after that, but... from that day forward, I rejected every single commission for weapons and armor."
A sword that makes killing people easier. She spoke self-deprecatingly and closed her eyes.
"I know that's the original purpose of a sword, but for some reason, after hearing those words, I just couldn't bring myself to forge them anymore. I made a ridiculous vow to myself never to make another one. You don't have to understand. I know it's a hard reason for others to grasp."
So, I cannot forge a sword. That was her final answer.
"I know you are the Hero, and I am truly grateful that you sought me out, but forging a sword is a separate matter entirely. It's a problem of my own heart, I suppose. I'm sorry, Hero."
She apologized to me with genuine sincerity.
The Holy Sword clicked her tongue inside my mind.
"What will you do, Elroy? While having this blacksmith forge it is the best option, it is not as if we lack alternatives. Even a second-best option would suffice, provided it is not completely unusable."
What do you mean, what will I do? I'm going to cling to her like a stubborn leech. Either I persuade her today, or I go find that blacksmith named Georg tomorrow. It's one of the two.
"I will not use my sword to cut down and kill people. My sword is meant to protect, not to kill."
Saying this, I drew the Holy Sword from its scabbard and placed it on the table. The blade and hilt, which I had polished just yesterday, gleamed as if brand new. Though it bore no extravagant decorations or engravings, its inherent sanctity manifested as a magical aura that transcended its appearance, instantly shifting the atmosphere of the room.
"The Holy Sword is not a weapon meant to slay humans. It will never be used to cut down a person."
I looked up at the blacksmith. Her eyes trembled slightly as she gazed at the Holy Sword.
"If you forge a sword for me, that blade will walk the exact same path as this Holy Sword."
"...I believe you, Hero. After all, you are the one who defeated the Third and Fourth Calamities."
I slid the Holy Sword across the table, indicating she could examine it. Dazed, she placed her hand on the blade and gently stroked it.
"Please, accept this commission. There will be far more people saved by your sword than those slain by it, and I will prove to you that you were not wrong."
"A sword is meant to cut people. That is an unchangeable truth."
I recited the words the Holy Sword whispered to me.
"Even a tree branch can cut a person if one intends to do so. A shield, a piece of armor—anything can be used to kill if that is the intent."
I pulled the Holy Sword back and sheathed it. The blacksmith's eyes followed the weapon blankly.
"By that logic, there is no law stating that a sword cannot be used to protect and save people either."
Her expression softened, looking somewhat dazed, as if she had just realized the contradiction in her own words.
"I know you didn't mean it in a bad way, Hero, but... yes, I am running away. It's an escape that doesn't even deserve to be called a conviction. I'm just afraid to face reality. You aren't wrong. But when it comes to running away, I can be quite stubborn."
I didn't deny it. Since she was already aware of it, my role wasn't to argue. I simply had to give her the only answer I could offer.
"And it is also true that I am trying to drag you back by force as you try to run away. If you wish to criticize me, feel free to do so as much as you like. But to achieve what I must, I need your sword. I can easily endure a little criticism."
The blacksmith let out a long, heavy sigh. Recognizing it as a sigh of surrender, I clenched my fist in silent triumph.
"You... you pushed me knowing that if the Hero himself made such a request, I wouldn't be able to refuse to the very end, didn't you? I couldn't stop you. Are you trying to make me realize how pathetic my vow is in the face of your conviction, or what?"
"Well, there's a bit of that. Though certainly not the latter. I don't think of myself as someone with any grand conviction."
"You're truly wicked."
"If it was a matter of money, I can always add more to the sum."
As I began to tear another leaf from my checkbook, her face turned pale, and she waved her hands frantically.
"Stop, stop! If you do that, it'll look like I'm just giving in to money!"
"Weren't you? My mistake, then."
She let out a wry laugh at my teasing. Watching her smile with what seemed like a sense of relief, I smiled back. Fortunately, it seemed the sword would be forged.
"How unlike you. There must be another reason you pushed this blacksmith so hard to secure this commission."
Well, as she said, my reason for practically forcing her to forge the sword wasn't just because of her exceptional skill.
"Were you not worried that she would live to regret it?"
As expected of the Holy Sword. She hit the nail right on the head. If I hadn't pushed her to the very end, the commission would have fallen through. And then, she would have spent the rest of her days brooding over the fact that she refused to forge my sword. After all, she was merely using that vow as an escape from her craft.
"Indeed. There is no one who does not know what you strive to achieve. Had you walked away, she would have been left with only two choices: to live with a new layer of guilt for refusing the Hero, or to lock herself further away, rationalizing it as preserving her conviction."
Exactly. Letting her believe she was practically forced into forging the sword would make it much easier on her conscience. And later, when she sees what her blade accomplishes, she will be completely liberated from the chains that bind her.
"...You worry yourself over the most unnecessary details. Are you truly fine with her never knowing this?"
I don't care. It's not like she'll hate me for it. Besides, you know my intentions, don't you? I gently squeezed the hilt of the Holy Sword as if to reassure her. The Holy Sword quickly added, her voice sounding flustered.
"W-who said they wanted to know? I only speak because I can read your mind to some extent. Though lately, perhaps because your resolve is hardening, reading your thoughts completely has become increasingly difficult..."
Sure, sure. Thank you. I stroked the hilt one last time and looked up. The blacksmith was staring at me, her eyes filled with newfound determination.
"I'll make it for you."
"Thank you."
I bowed my head slightly. Scratching her head awkwardly, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.
"Tell me the shape and material you want. It would be even better if you have a reference sword in mind."
"For the material, I'd like a metal that is as close to indestructible as possible. I don't mind the weight. As for the shape... I want the blade to be somewhat broad, without the tip narrowing too excessively."
Scribbling down my words, the blacksmith let out a thoughtful hum.
"A mithril alloy would probably be best... But this shape sounds familiar."
"I'd like it to be similar to the sword of Duke Kuenor Strofe. It felt quite comfortable in my hand."
At those words, her eyes went wide.
"Are you insane? You've actually wielded that sword?"
I gave a sheepish nod. She grimaced slightly and looked down at the paper.
"...Right. So you want a masterpiece on that level... Let me see the hand you'll use to wield it."
I extended my left hand. She took it, examining my palm and feeling up to my wrist.
"Alright. Since I've agreed to do it, and since it's for the Hero, I will pour my absolute best into this. It might take a few weeks to gather the materials and finish the forging."
"Understood."
The blacksmith stood up and offered her right hand.
"I'm Robin Bell. I look forward to working with you, Hero."
"I'm Elroy. Likewise."
"And, if possible..."
Robin looked at my empty right hip.
"I'd like to see you save the world with the sword I forge for you one day."
"At the next triumphal parade, I'll make sure you see it. I'll show everyone that your sword saved the world."
After bidding Robin farewell, I left the forge. There had been a few unexpected hurdles, but I was glad things had worked out well in the end.
"Hearing your conversation with that blacksmith just now brought something to mind, Elroy."
What is it?
"Our battle against the Doomsday Cult is not like fighting Calamities or monsters, Elroy."
The Holy Sword spoke with deep concern in her voice.
"I will not stop you from going there. It is something you must face and experience eventually. However..."
I neither nodded nor replied, simply continuing to walk in silence.
"I fear that you will be subjected to another grueling trial."
I suddenly stopped in my tracks and looked out at the street. People were bustling through the noisy blacksmith district. Among them, there might be those who worshiped the end of the world.
"Steel your heart."
...I will.
I nodded quietly. A cool breeze swept past, signaling the end of summer.