Treasure No. 3
Treasure No. 3!
And these fools were about to do something ridiculous again.
"Hey! Stop talking nonsense!"
"But still... that's discrimination..."
"How is that discrimination!"
They'd completely lost their minds. Ever since they started pulling steel out of the bloom furnace, the young ones had no fear at all.
Iron ore, too — they just scoop it up out of the open-pit mines and dump it straight in, which makes them even bolder!
I had no idea Manchuria had this many open-pit mines?
Charcoal's no problem either — trees grow in ridiculous abundance here, so they happily churn it out by the mountainload. No wonder their gallbladders have swollen to the size of melons.
"When are you going to finish laying all of it?"
"Oh. Roughly... about 360 years?"
Huh? Only that long?
No, wait! That's not the point. They laid rail from Sinsi to Hanju, tried it out, found it so convenient that now they're declaring they'll loop the tracks all the way around the entire northern frontier!
And I suppose I'll be riding that loop right along with them.
"You're planning to hammer away at nothing but this one project for, what, 300 years straight?"
"Ah... well, you see, there's simply nothing left to build, so we figured we might as well do that?"
"Huh?"
There's no work left? Why? Weren't they always building walls?
"You're saying there's no work?"
"None, my lady. The walls are already too tall as it is. Moving materials used to be such a struggle, but then there's that train track, you know? That thing is something else! If we lay more of it, won't the construction get easier too?"
See? I told them it would be great, didn't I? If that guy who doubted me at the start were still around, I'd have smacked him one. What a shame.
"He's dead and gone, so it'd be fair game to hit him anyway, no?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Hm?"
"Why would you hit someone?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Anyway, thanks to those tracks, carriages have gotten incredibly good!"
Still, hills must be a problem, right?
"I mean, you can't get up hills anyway — too much effort?"
"We just have a steam engine pull them up!"
Oh? Clever! Though I imagine that's not so easy either?
"I suppose you could haul coal or firewood from nearby, but isn't water the real issue?"
"The explorers have gotten plenty of work out of it too! A lot of them have been coming back inland these days, hunting for valleys and new mines."
Huh... so the ones who used to roam abroad have thinned out a bit? Might be a peaceful era for the rest of the world, then...
"You do realize that if the grades get too steep, once actual trains show up they won't be able to climb them, and everyone will be in an uproar?"
"Yes! That's exactly why we route across flatland whenever we can, just in case."
Easy enough on our plains, but what on earth do they plan to do about Siberia?
"That mountain range won't be easy, I'd think?"
"Well, we'll try going around, and if that fails, we'll just dig straight through the mountain!"
Oh? Is that army humor I'm hearing? Pardon? Move the mountain? That'll take 3,000 years, not 300. Well, they're only human — surely they'll figure out how to go around?
But honestly, there is something romantic about a railway, isn't there? Except right now it's still horse-drawn. Why are they throwing themselves at it like their lives depend on it?
Then again — 300 years of construction? It's genuinely worth that much... but are there really that many people with nothing to do?
"Yes! We have to make jobs for people somehow!"
"Why not just hire more miners?"
"Shoveling dirt all day and picking rocks out of the ground — they say it's no fun."
"You do work for fun now?"
"Work's only fun when you use your muscles! Muscles go pump, tendons go pump!"
"...What is with all this pump talk..."
Maybe try working that head of yours for once. No, they'll only ever want the jobs that work the body.
"Laying rail into the mines ahead of time is a good idea, by the way."
"Already done!"
"And you're laying wide, packed beds, right? You know the early ones laid straight on bare dirt all sank and had to be redone?"
"Yes..."
There had been plenty of trial and error.
At first they'd simply laid the rails on the ground and called it connected — one horse's pass and the whole line sank into the mud. My sighs sank right along with it. Later they plastered everything over with hwanghoe mortar, which held up a little longer before the ground shattered out from under it, and only then did they finally start running proper experiments.
"Don't forget — up in the far north, you only build while the ground is thawed in summer!"
"Of course, my lady!"
"I worry, honestly. Too many reckless projects piling up."
The Trans-Siberian Railway's going to arrive early at this rate. Please tell me they're not crazy enough to start talking about bridging the Bering Strait...
"How's the track-switching development coming along?"
"Not there yet, but soon!"
"Good — that's what'll make those mining operations manageable."
Watching them lift and shove carts heaped with ominous mountains of iron ore, I couldn't help marveling at the strength of the human body.
They weren't hoisting the whole thing into the air, of course — just lifting one side at a time to shuffle it along — but remarkable was the only word for it.
"So weapons and household goods still come first, and the rails get whatever's left over?"
"No need to worry about that, my lady. Quite a lot of smiths still work the old way."
"Mm. That's not a bad thing."
They were pulling plenty of steel from the bloom furnaces, but there was no modern measuring equipment to speak of, and the quality was never perfectly uniform.
A legendary sword, the kind that belongs in a film or a historical drama — that can only be forged by hammering!
And a weapon made by nothing but hammer strokes — how romantic is that! This tradition must be preserved all the way into the modern era!
I was planning to do it anyway! Off to Japan to play the sword-slayer — smash every last one of their famous blades to pieces~
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ooh, the sound of hammering! Impressive. They say this is the finest craftsman in the whole region. He looks quite old, but not a shred of muscle has left him!
"Hm? You look awful familiar for a young missy?"
"Hello there."
"I'm certain I've seen you somewhere... my apologies. My memory's gotten foggy in my old age."
Should I be relieved he didn't recognize me?
"Doesn't seem like a place a young lady ought to be wandering into. I don't make jewelry, you know."
Those bulldog eyes! I can feel the stubbornness radiating off him! I've come to exactly the right place.
"I've come to have a sword made."
"I don't make toy swords..."
He still thinks I'm playing. Good grief...
"A real sword. A fine one."
"Straight blade? Curved saber?"
"I'll take the curved saber."
"Ho? You know the difference?"
"I do!"
"Heheh. Well, I never..."
He still seems to be deciding whether to actually make it. What do I do...?
"Grandpaaa~ please make it for me~"
"Gah!"
Heheh. One of the many uses of this body. Shake the shoulders just so while you talk, and everyone folds!
"Well, all right. If you're going to protect yourself, you ought to have one, no?"
"Thank you!"
"I'll fit the length to you myself. That suit you?"
"Yes~ and please make it long!"
Long weapons are the best! Heck yes! I'd actually considered a spear first, but spears lack a certain flair, so I settled on a sword instead.
"Puhahaha."
Hm? Why's he laughing? Because a shorty wants a long sword? Is that what's so funny?
"Missy. There's a sword standing over there by the wall. A soldier left it in my care. Go on, try drawing it~"
"On it!"
So that's what it was — a sword propped in the corner of the workshop, left behind by a soldier?
Swish!
"Whoa! It's long!"
The sword was longer than I'd expected. The blade alone seemed as tall as I was?
Right! If you want to swing it around in style, it has to be at least this long!
"Puhahaha. Kheheheh."
Hm? What now? Is there some secret I don't know about? Why does the old man keep cackling beside me?
Hup!
Gripping the hilt handsomely, she drew in one smooth motion—
Shiiiing—clunk.
"Huh?"
Draw it in one motion!
Shiiiing—clunk.
"Huhh?!"
It won't come out!
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
"Wha— why not!"
"You can't draw a blade longer than your own arm, that's how! PWAHAHAHA!"
Oh. Right. You physically cannot draw the sword, can you?
Son of a—! So anime and movies were all lies! Wow! Absolute frauds, the lot of them!
"Hahaha..."
And so I banked yet another deposit of shame.
"I'll fit the length so it's easy for you to draw, then. Heh heh heh."
"I'm so sorry..."
All this time I'd been pulling swords out of their sheaths with telekinesis, so I never had a clue. Dammit...
"You're a fun one, missy! Well then — shall we begin?"
"Yes!"
Clatter-clatter, crash!
The old man wasted no time at all, dumping charcoal and iron ore straight into the furnace. His hands clearly knew the measure by heart — a generous pinch here, a scoop there, all by feel.
Clunk. Whooosh!
Then he hauled a lever at the side, and the sound of rushing wind filled the shop. Little steam engines like this one were a common sight everywhere these days.
"It's gotten so convenient, hasn't it?"
"Hm? You've seen one before?"
Oh, just a few thousand years ago!
"These machines are a marvelous thing. The young bucks keep trying to hammer with the contraptions too — and how in blazes are they supposed to learn to listen to the metal that way? Tsk~"
You can tell the state of the iron by the sound of the hammer strikes? That's honestly amazing.
Clunk.
He cracked open the furnace door, revealing a red-hot mass riddled with holes.
"Nearly done. Now where did I leave the tongs?"
Much faster than I expected? In the old days this took ages. Shall I get some work in before grandpa notices?
The hammer and anvil I once made for Akta — the ones I'd seen in the exhibition hall — had looked tremendously sturdy, hadn't they?
Time to give them another press with telekinesis.
Kuuuumble... crack-crack-crack!
Ooh, ominous noises. It's glowing pure white? And it's shrinking down... is that okay?
Clunk.
"Why on earth are the tongs out there? Am I really getting old."
Grandpa's back. And that's where my little operation ends!
"Hm? What in the—? Have I truly gone senile? This is all you put in? Hmm..."
"What does it matter! We'll just make it a bit smaller!"
"Mm? I suppose? Small missy, small sword — fits just fine!"
Agh, when you say it so cheerfully, it actually hurts. Grandpa's head is at least twice the size of mine, for the record...
Clunk.
"Hmm? Why is this so heavy? Has my strength finally gone?"
Uh... well, yes? Compress metal like that and it does get heavier, doesn't it? Is he really going to hammer that? It's glowing cherry-red, so I suppose it's workable?
"It'll be loud — stand over there."
"But I want to watch!"
"Heheh! Good stance, missy. Shall we begin?"
Somehow I seem to have won the old man's approval?
CLANG!
"What the devil?"
"What's wrong?"
"No... have I truly gone soft in my old age? Why does it ring like this, and why are my hammer marks barely showing?"
"Ahaha..."
Uh oh. Is grandpa coming down with something? I should really have some Holy Water on hand for him...
CLANG! CLANG!
"Grrrah! I refuse to lose!"
"You can do it!"
He's burning with competitive spirit against a lump of metal?
CLANG! CLANG!
Stroke by fearsome stroke, the sword slowly took shape.
Sweat pouring off him like rain, plunging the blade into the fire and drawing it out again and again, the old master swung his hammer — and it was a genuinely magnificent sight. Once the real work began, his eyes never once strayed.
CLANG! ting-ting-ting.
The sword's silhouette was gradually emerging. The blade I understood — but wasn't the tang for the handle awfully short? And why was he cutting off a whole separate chunk?
CLANG! Bam! Bam! CLANG! Bam-bam!
There had to be a reason. He shaped the tang, then took that extra lump and hammered it out into a round form.
What's that for?
"Whew! Honestly, this is exhausting work!"
Bubble, bubble... FWOOOOSH!
Then he plunged the blade into what looked like water — it boiled, and flames leapt up, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. That must be oil, then!
"Hm? Takes an awfully long time to cool too? Strange metal, this is."
I felt like I'd committed some unspeakable sin.
Shhik. Shhik. Shhik.
"Don't take the edge too sharp. It only dulls that much faster."
"I see!"
So this is the honing stage? And that thing — is that a whetstone? It's visibly wearing away as he grinds?
"Uh oh. What's going on here?"
"Th... that's, um..."
Well, I did commit a sin, so I had no room to protest...
By the time he was done, I'd say he'd ground his way through twenty whetstones or so.
"Whew. That ought to about do it?"
"Yes! Hehe."
"Though I'll be blessed if I know why this sword came out black as midnight."
A modest edge had emerged along the pitch-black blade — so modest that calling it an edge felt almost embarrassing.
Clack.
"Still — a pretty missy deserves a pretty handle. I'll make it lovely for you."
"Thank you!"
Oh? That shallow flat section isn't the handle — it's where the handle gets fixed on, isn't it?
Click. Click.
"You don't know what this is, do you?"
"Uh... nope..."
"It's the sword guard. You'll understand once you've used it a while — without this piece, you can't block a blow."
"Nope..."
Note to self: learn at least a little swordsmanship before carrying this around.
Shhik. Shhik. Shhik.
Then he cut the scabbard to match the blade's length, and it seemed the grip and scabbard had both come from a single tree — same grain, same warmth.
By pure chance, they'd been carved all over with delicate little flowers that looked exactly like the pyrethrum daisies I loved. A beautiful scabbard and a beautiful hilt.
Swish!
"All done. Take it with you."
"Thank you! How much do I owe you?"
"Owe? What would I charge Haneul-nim? Just use it well."
"Wha—!"
He knew all along?!
"Sorry for not recognizing you at first. Haha. My memory's been going foggy these days, you see. You won't smite me for speaking so freely, will you?"
"Of course not! Thank you so much. This is my Treasure No. 3!"
"Heh. Then it's an honor."
I will treasure it forever!