Ch.5959. What is the Sword For (2)

I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly as I looked at the blacksmith. She was still blinking in surprise. It was understandable. Of all comparisons I could have made, I had to mention a hero.

“Could we talk for a bit?”

The blacksmith’s expression twisted with complexity. I hadn’t revealed my status as a hero and had intended to quietly commission and collect the sword, but I needed to use this approach to persuade her. I had a strong feeling that this blacksmith could forge an excellent sword.

The blacksmith crossed her arms and looked at me. I could easily tell that some kind of conflict was occurring in her mind. She walked past me to close the door of the forge and lowered the blinds. She was clearly trying to prevent any unnecessary commotion.

“…If you’re really a hero, I suppose we could talk.”

The blacksmith pointed to a table at the edge of the workshop. I nodded and went to sit at the table, while she untied her apron and wiped away her sweat. She went to the washbasin to quickly wash her face and hands, then shook off the water and looked up at me.

“It might be a bit hot in here, is that okay?”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter.”

The blacksmith slowly walked over and sat across from me. With the soot and other stains washed from her face, she looked about five years younger. She was probably around the same age as Ilroy. The blacksmith sat there, staring at my face for a long time.

“You really are the hero. To think such a famous person would visit my workshop… and the hero at that.”

She spoke as if talking to herself and pulled her chair forward. Though her voice and tone were full of energy, her eyes seemed to wander somewhere between vitality and fatigue.

“I needed a sword, so I came looking for the blacksmith guild alley. But as I mentioned, the items made by other craftsmen didn’t satisfy me. I initially wanted to visit George’s workshop, but I was told he’s on holiday today.”

“Then why not wait until that old man returns, instead of coming all the way here? He may be picky, but his skills are certain. He definitely wouldn’t refuse a request to make a sword for the hero.”

Her tone wasn’t confrontational; she sounded genuinely curious.

“I thought I’d try my luck. There might be other master craftsmen, so there’s no need to insist on just one person. There’s no harm in broadening my options.”

I glanced toward the grinding wheel. On a table nearby were various iron objects: chains, kitchen knives, crafts, and even iron bars. Each one was extraordinary. She probably made all of these herself.

“Then, by chance, I saw you crafting a knife. At that moment, the option of visiting George disappeared from my mind.”

That explanation was sufficient. The blacksmith herself would know very well how excellent her blades were. The blacksmith slightly furrowed her brow and looked at my left hip.

“But, hero. You wield the Holy Sword. Do you need another sword besides that?”

I nodded while touching the hilt of the Holy Sword.

“Yes. Somehow I’ve come to use dual swords, so I need another blade to use alongside the Holy Sword.”

“…Wait, you’d entrust such an important task to this place?”

“Because it’s this place that I’m entrusting it to.”

A blacksmith who gave me confidence, whose craftsmanship the Holy Sword strongly endorsed. I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

“So, would you please take on the task of crafting the sword?”

The blacksmith bit her lip tightly, then let out a long sigh.

“…As you guessed, I used to be a sword maker. But I’ve vowed not to make swords anymore.”

The blacksmith spoke while covering her right hand, which rested on the table, with her left.

“May I ask why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No. It’s nothing special. The reason is so personal and unfunny that I’m a bit hesitant to tell the hero. Other blacksmiths would laugh if they heard it.”

The blacksmith gave a bitter smile. I simply looked at her quietly.

“…With that expression, I can’t help but tell you.”

The blacksmith’s green eyes sank into recollection.

“I started metalworking very young, following my father, and I was often told I was quite good at it. I practically lived in the workshop, but I was happy. I love working with metal. I love shaping it, and I love seeing my series of work completed and released into the world.”

The blacksmith’s neatly folded hands changed into tightly clenched fists.

“But I couldn’t help feeling responsible and guilty knowing that my creations were being used to draw blood. At first, it was fine. News about who used which sword and how rarely reached me. But then…”

The blacksmith furrowed her eyebrows.

“Five years ago, news came to me. In a border dispute between the Kingdom of Kairos and the neighboring Kingdom of Benisha, several knights who had bought my swords performed remarkably well, praising my swords highly. They said they could easily cut down enemies, armor and all. My workshop became quite famous after that, but since then, I’ve rejected all weapon crafting requests.”

A sword that makes killing people easier. The blacksmith spoke self-deprecatingly and closed her eyes.

“That may be the original purpose of a sword, but somehow after hearing that, I couldn’t make swords anymore. I made a ridiculous vow not to make them. You don’t have to understand. I know it’s a reason that’s hard for others to comprehend.”

So, I can’t make swords.

That’s what the blacksmith said.

“I know you’re the hero, and I’m really grateful that you came to find me, but making a sword seems like a separate issue. It’s a matter of my heart, you could say. I’m sorry, hero.”

The blacksmith was sincerely apologizing to me. The Holy Sword clicked its tongue in my mind.

“[What will you do, Ilroy? This blacksmith would be the best choice, but there are alternatives. As long as the alternative isn’t completely unusable, it should be fine.]”

What to do? I’ll have to be persistent. Either I convince this person today, or I find this George the blacksmith tomorrow. One of the two.

“I won’t use my sword to cut people down. My sword is for protection, not for killing.”

Saying this, I drew the Holy Sword from its scabbard and placed it on the table. The blade and hilt of the Holy Sword, which I had polished just yesterday, shone like new. Without any special decorations or carvings, its inherent solemnity manifested through a magical aura that transcended its appearance, changing the atmosphere.

“The Holy Sword is not a sword for cutting people. The Holy Sword will never cut a person.”

I raised my head to look at the blacksmith. Her eyes trembled slightly as she gazed at the Holy Sword.

“If you make a sword for me, that sword will follow the same fate as the Holy Sword.”

“…I believe your words. You’re the person who defeated the third and fourth Calamity.”

I pushed the sword across the table, indicating she could examine it, and the blacksmith hesitantly placed her hand on the blade and stroked it.

“Please take on this commission. There will be more people saved by your sword than killed by it, and I will prove to you that you weren’t wrong.”

“A sword is for cutting people. That’s an unchangeable fact.”

I relayed what the Holy Sword had hinted to me.

“You can cut someone with a tree branch if you intend to. With a shield, with armor, you could kill someone if that’s your intent.”

I took back the Holy Sword and sheathed it. The blacksmith’s eyes followed the Holy Sword intently.

“Then, there’s no reason a sword can’t protect and save people too.”

The blacksmith’s expression became vague, as if realizing the contradiction in her own words.

“I know you didn’t mean it that way, but I am running away. It’s an escape that can’t even be called a belief. I am afraid to face the truth. You’re not wrong. But I’m quite stubborn, even in my escape.”

I didn’t deny it. If she herself realized it, my role wasn’t to deny it. I would simply offer the answer I could give.

“And it’s true that I’m trying to forcibly hold you back from running away. Feel free to blame me all you want. But to achieve what I need to do, I need your sword. I can bear the blame.”

The blacksmith let out a long sigh. Recognizing that sigh as one of surrender to me, I silently clenched my fist in triumph.

“You, you’re pushing forward knowing that I really can’t refuse a request from someone with the status of hero, aren’t you? How can I possibly resist? Are you trying to make me realize how insignificant my resolve is compared to your conviction, or what?”

“Well, that’s part of it. Though not the latter. I don’t think I have any special conviction.”

“You’re really terrible.”

“If it’s a matter of money, I can add as much as needed.”

As I tore out another check, the blacksmith turned pale and waved her hands frantically.

“Stop, stop! That makes me look like someone who succumbs to money.”

“Isn’t that the case? Never mind then.”

The blacksmith gave a bitter laugh at my words. I smiled back at that relieved-looking bitter smile. Fortunately, it seemed the sword commission would happen.

“[This isn’t like you. There must be another reason why you’re pushing this blacksmith so hard to make this happen.]”

The Holy Sword clicked its tongue at me. Well, as the Holy Sword said, the reason I’m practically forcing her to make it isn’t just because she makes good swords.

“[You’re worried she might regret it later, aren’t you?]”

As expected of the Holy Sword. It hit the mark exactly.

If I hadn’t pushed to the end, the commission wouldn’t have happened. Then she would have kept ruminating on not making my sword. Since she’s been avoiding making swords in that way.

“[That makes sense. Everyone knows what you’re trying to do. So she’d be left with one of two options: either live with another guilt of not making a sword for me, or rationalize that she stood by her conviction and become even more trapped within herself.]”

Right. It’s better for her if I force her to make the sword like this. Later, when she sees what her sword accomplishes, she might be completely freed from the chains binding her.

“[…You care unnecessarily deeply. Is it okay if she doesn’t know this?]”

It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll be hated for it. And you understand, don’t you?

I gently gripped the hilt of the Holy Sword as if to reward it. The Holy Sword hastily added in a flustered voice.

“[W-who said I wanted that? I can read your mind to some extent, that’s all. Lately, your resolve has been strengthening, making it increasingly difficult for me to read your mind completely…]”

Yes, yes. Thank you. I stopped rubbing the hilt and looked up. The blacksmith was looking at me with eyes that seemed to have firmed her resolve.

“I’ll make it.”

“Thank you.”

I bowed my head, and the blacksmith awkwardly scratched her head and brought out paper and a pen.

“I’d like to know your preferred shape and material. It would be better if you have a reference sword.”

“I’d like a metal as close to immutable as possible. Weight isn’t a major concern. As for the shape… I’d prefer the tip not to narrow too much, and for the blade to be somewhat wide.”

The blacksmith, who was noting down my words, exhaled with a “hmm.”

“A mythril alloy would be good… But that shape sounds familiar.”

“I’d like it similar to Duke Quenore Strope’s sword. It seemed to fit my hand well.”

At those words, the blacksmith’s eyes widened.

“Damn. You’ve actually used that sword?”

I nodded glumly. The blacksmith frowned and looked down at the paper.

“…So, you want a masterpiece of that caliber… Let me see your sword hand.”

I extended my left hand, and the blacksmith took it, feeling up to my wrist.

“Alright. Since I’ve agreed to take this on, and it’s the hero’s sword, I’ll do my absolute best. It might take a few weeks to source the materials and complete the crafting.”

“I understand.”

The blacksmith stood up and extended her right hand.

“I’m Robin Bell. Looking forward to working with you, hero.”

“I’m Ilroy. Looking forward to working with you too.”

“And, if possible.”

Robin looked at my empty right hip.

“I’d like to someday see you saving the world with the sword I make.”

“I’ll make sure to show you at the next victory parade. That I saved the world with your sword.”

I exchanged farewells with Robin and left the forge. Despite some unexpected events, I’m glad things worked out well.

“[…Listening to your conversation with the blacksmith just now, something came to mind, Ilroy.]”

What is it?

“[The fight against the doomsday cult is not a battle against calamities or monsters, Ilroy.]”

The Holy Sword spoke in a concerned voice.

“[I won’t try to dissuade you from going there. It was something you would have to face and experience eventually. But,]”

I neither nodded nor responded, just kept walking quietly.

“[I have a feeling you’ll be facing another difficult trial this time.]”

I suddenly stopped walking and looked at the street. People were strolling through the noisy blacksmith district. Among them, there might be those who worship the end.

“[Steel your heart.]”

…I must.

I nodded silently. A cool breeze signaling the end of summer blew by.