Zeke's Sword (2)
Lodren, the loan shark with two protruding front teeth, visited the Gevorg Weapon Shop.
Inside, a burly, middle-aged man was listlessly hammering away.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Lodren approached the man from behind, slung his arm around his shoulders, and said in a saccharine voice,
"Alen~ Are my swords ready? Damn, it's hot in here. Aren't you gonna lower the fire?"
The man, called Alen, flinched at his words, stopped hammering, and replied in a meek voice,
"J-Just a little more time...."
"Hmm? How much more time do I have to give you? Huh? I feel like I've given you enough already, haven't I?"
"I-I apologize."
"Alen, this is really making things difficult. You weren't even chosen by the academy, were you? And here I am, taking you in."
Thud! Crash!
Lodren tripped Alen, sending him sprawling to the floor. His smile morphed into a menacing scowl as he leaned in close.
"Make the swords, damn it!!! You bastard!!!"
"I-I am making them."
"What? You call these trash, swords?!"
Lodren glanced at the swords hanging on the wall.
"Who would use these? Some are too short, some are too long, and the handles are all different shapes and sizes. What the hell!? I gave some to the guys, and they all threw them away, saying they were useless."
Alen bit his lip, trembling at his words.
"Alen, Alen. Didn't I tell you? Just make ordinary swords and hand them over. Who's asking for masterpieces?"
"..."
"I know what you're capable of. You can make ordinary swords, can't you? If it weren't for that stupid stubbornness of yours. Right?"
"..."
'I swear, if I hit this bastard over the head with this hammer...' Alen thought, staring at the hammer in his hand.
"Otherwise, you're out of here next month. Oh, and I won't forget about the debt, will I?"
"N-No way!!!"
"This is really the last straw. So, give me the swords. As many as you can. Got it?"
With that, Lodren patted Alen's cheek condescendingly and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Creak.
Creak.
The sound of rusty hinges filled the workshop.
Alen slowly rose to his feet.
***
Clang!
Alen, the owner of Gevorg Weapon Shop, threw his hammer to the ground.
"My swords aren't… they aren't like that…"
He ran a hand down his face, staring at the blackened metal.
Anger welled up inside him, his blood boiling, but there was nothing he could do.
"Damn it. Shit…"
Alen picked up his hammer again, resigned to fulfilling the unreasonable request.
He hammered at the metal with renewed fury.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang!
The Ramielli Academy had swept up all the skilled artisans in the area, drawing them in like moths to a flame.
As a result, nameless blacksmiths like him were left struggling to make ends meet.
Taking advantage of the situation, the loan shark Lodren had bought up all the remaining land in the old town.
He then increased the rent on the workshops, forcing the remaining blacksmiths like himself into debt and making them produce weapons for him.
What did these people, who had been barely scraping by, know about anything else?
Moreover, these were the blacksmiths who had been rejected by the academy.
No one would stand up for them.
'The moment Lodren's heart softens even a little, I have to get out of here...'
The reason he hadn't received a collaboration offer from the Ramielli Academy was that his work was far removed from the 'luxury,' 'ornamentation,' and 'obvious high quality' that the nobles preferred.
Alen had always focused on one thing: 'user customization.'
He would observe the location and degree of calluses on each individual's hands, understand their grip and habits when wielding a sword, and examine their height, muscles, and arm and leg lengths to create the perfect sword for them.
That's how he had always worked with metal.
Believing that someday, someone would recognize his worth.
But until he was backed into a corner, no one had shown any interest in his swords.
"Damn it…"
He stopped hammering and looked back at the swords he had made.
That bastard was right.
Swords custom-made for individuals were garbage that couldn't even be sold to anyone else.
Even if he gave them to others to use, they would probably break or be discarded soon due to the subtle discomfort.
But to the owners of these swords, it was different.
They were comfortable and perfectly fitting swords, even if they weren't anything special.
"My swords aren't bad. They aren't bad…"
"They are."
"Gasp!"
"User-customized swords… The intention is good, but it's useless if the skill is lacking."
Thud!
Alen jumped back in surprise at the low voice that suddenly came from behind him.
His heart pounded, thinking Lodren had returned.
"Are you alright?"
A silver-haired woman with a noble air emerged from behind the man, her eyes filled with concern.
Just one look at her, and Alen instinctively lowered his head. She was clearly a noble.
"W-Who are you?"
"Ah, I am Selena Yohaiden, Princess of House Yohaiden."
"Y-Yohaiden!!!"
House Yohaiden was one of the three great Dukedoms of the Empire. Isn't that the place where they can bring down a flying Wyvern with just a glare?
Why would such a distinguished person from such a prestigious family be in this humble place?
Alen stared at Selena in bewilderment before realizing his manners.
He quickly bowed low.
"I-I apologize!"
"It's alright. Please, raise your head."
Just then, the black-haired man intervened.
"We're here on business."
"Business, you say? Are you perhaps looking for a sword for yourself, sir…?"
"No. This one will be using the sword."
Alen looked up at the silver-haired girl.
She possessed an innate elegance, a beautiful face, and a delicate physique. And her chest was… impressive…ahem!
Having spent years crafting swords for specific individuals, Alen knew instinctively.
"Well…"
"What is it?"
The man's gaze was cold as he looked at Alen.
The strange pressure made his heart freeze.
He stammered, sweating profusely,
"I-It's just… It would be presumptuous of me to say this, but…"
"Enough with the unnecessary formalities. Get to the point."
Alen closed his eyes tightly. Saying this here and now might be the end of his life.
But, whether he died now or by Lodren's hand…
He couldn't forgive himself if the user got hurt because of a problem with a sword he made.
"M-My lady, you're… the sword is!"
Unfitting. Just as he was about to say it, the man cut him off.
"Yes, you're right. It's not a good fit."
"B-But then, why…?"
"Let's try it once and then decide. Here's the down payment."
Clink. A gold coin landed in front of Alen's eyes.
'T-This is a gold coin. With this…!'
***
Clang! Hmm. Clang! Hmm? Clang! Hmm.
Alen's mind raced as he hammered the metal.
After carefully examining her to make a suitable sword, the conclusion was the same as his initial intuition: 'This body shouldn't be swinging a sword.'
So, with trembling hands, he tried to return the gold coin to the man and convey this information. However, the man simply nodded, not giving up on the sword.
The name Yohaiden carried immense weight, enough to make light of someone like Lodren.
Under pressure from both their social standing and money, Alen had no choice but to pick up his hammer.
And one more thing.
The man brought a chair and sat down right there in the workshop.
He watched with chilling eyes from behind, adding a comment every time the hammer struck the metal.
Clang!
"Hmm?"
Clang!
"Hmm."
Clang?
"Hmm?"
Claaang…?
"Hmm…"
'What?! What is it?! What is it?!'
Alen's concentration was constantly broken, but the fact that the man had accompanied the Princess of Yohaiden meant he was also a high-ranking noble.
Therefore, he couldn't protest and endured it, continuing to make the sword.
Alen felt truly pathetic, being pushed around by Lodren before and now by this suspicious noble.
***
'Instructor… just how long are you planning to stay here?'
Selena had been genuinely happy when Zeke said he would have a sword made for her.
It meant that Zeke was prioritizing her above all else.
However, Selena, who had envisioned a day filled with exciting experiences with Zeke, was incredibly bored, stuck here wasting time like this.
Several hours had already passed.
Zeke remained motionless, his gaze fixed solely on the blacksmith's hammering.
He hadn't looked at her once, nor had they exchanged a single word. It was as if she were invisible.
'Zeke can stay here forever! I am leaving!'
She glared at the back of his head, fuming silently.
'Would it be so bad if I just hit him once?'
Just then.
Creak.
The door behind them opened, revealing a familiar face. It was one of the mansion's servants.
"M-My lady."
He rushed towards Selena with a worried expression.
"Oh, what is it?"
"A messenger from the Duke has arrived at the mansion."
"What?!"
"It seems you are needed there immediately."
Selena's heart sank.
Her planned date with Zeke was crumbling before her eyes.
'Well, I did think about leaving, but I didn't mean I actually wanted to go!'
She glanced at Zeke.
He was still absorbed in watching the blacksmith hammer the metal.
She nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Excuse me, Instructor."
"Hmm?"
"It seems I need to return to the mansion. A messenger from my father has arrived."
"Should… Should I come too?"
"No, that won't be necessary… but… are you planning to stay here?"
Nod.
Selena's cheeks puffed out.
Nod? Just a nod?
She had something urgent to attend to, and he couldn't even offer a proper goodbye? He could at least say, "See you later," or something!
'Hmph! Fine! Be that way!'
Selena turned away abruptly, making it clear that she was leaving, and addressed the servant.
"The carriage!?"
"It's waiting outside, my lady."
"Hmph! I'm! Leaving! Now! Let's go!"
She stomped her foot dramatically and marched out.
Despite her theatrics, Zeke remained oblivious, his attention still on the blacksmith and the glowing metal.
Alen, on the other hand, was sweating bullets.
'Uh oh. I think the Princess is upset!'
"Don't get distracted. Your hammering is getting sloppy."
'That's not important right now! The Princess is still watching us from the doorway! Hey! Look behind you!'
"Focus and hammer properly."
'This guy… Doesn't he see her peeking through the crack in the door?! Those eyes!'
"Hmm?"
'Hmm, he says. This crazy…'
Alen sighed inwardly and resumed hammering. It had been hours. He was finally starting to understand Zeke's interjections.
'Hmm' meant to continue hammering as he was.
'Hmm…' with a trailing voice meant to adjust the force of his swing, either lighter or stronger.
'Hmm?' or 'Huh?' with a questioning tone meant that he was doing something wrong.
But really, who in their right mind, especially a noble, would spend an entire day sitting in a blacksmith's workshop, watching him work?
And not only watching but critiquing every single swing!
Frankly, his pride as a craftsman was wounded, but his spirit had already been broken by Lodren.
He decided to just do whatever this man wanted.
As he continued hammering, Alen felt a strange sensation wash over him.
Looking at the gradually forming sword, he could envision Selena Yohaiden, her silver hair flowing, wielding it with grace.
It was lighter and shorter than a typical rapier, but it didn't sacrifice practicality like a small sword.
However, its durability seemed incredibly fragile.
A few clashes with a greatsword would likely bend it out of shape.
It was less of a weapon for prolonged use and more like one with a limited lifespan.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Alen forgot everything around him, focusing solely on the metal before him and the rhythm of his hammer.
*&&
Zeke observed Alen, now fully immersed in his work, and nodded in satisfaction.
Initially, the blacksmith's hammering was the only thing remotely impressive about him.
However, after a few well-placed comments and critiques, the man quickly grasped the essence and began crafting the sword with remarkable intuition.
This Alen was a diamond in the rough, a hidden talent who simply lacked guidance.
Zeke had stumbled upon the workshop while walking through the old town, drawn by the rhythmic clang of the hammer.
It seemed he had found a true gem.
If this guy continued to grow at this rate, Zeke could entrust him with crafting swords for his future students.
'Any further interference will only disrupt his flow and potentially ruin the sword.'
Zeke picked up a piece of paper and wrote on it.
[This is the address of the mansion. Bring the sword to me when it is complete. I will decide on the remaining payment based on the results. And if the sword is satisfactory, I will be commissioning you regularly, so do your best.]
* * *
By the time Zeke finished commissioning the sword and left the workshop, evening had fallen.
'It's already evening? Damn it.'
He still hadn't found what he was looking for, the primary reason for coming out today.
He needed something to use for tomorrow's class.
He walked from the old town back towards the area near Ramielli Academy, checking various shops along the way, not just weapon stores.
It was already late, and many shops were closed.
Even though he wouldn't be wielding a sword, he couldn't very well conduct a swordsmanship class empty-handed.
It had to be blunt, not sharp.
It couldn't be made of metal.
It had to be reasonably solid yet light and easily breakable.
And it had to inflict pain without being lethal, even when wielded with his monstrous strength.
Those were the bare minimum requirements for something Zeke could even consider holding.
He had plenty of other criteria in mind, but none of them mattered if it didn't meet those basic conditions.
Even a wooden practice sword would become a deadly weapon in his hands.
He scoured the area, searching high and low, but finding something that fit his needs seemed impossible.
Lost in thought, he ended up back near the old town.
"Maybe I should just wrap some cloth around my hand and call it a day."
Grumble.
His stomach growled.
He'd skipped breakfast, enticed by the promise of a delicious restaurant outing with Selena, and now, except for the few spoonfuls of soup she'd shared the day before, he hadn't eaten in four days.
"Fresh bread! Get your bread here! The last batch of the day, going cheap!"
A cheerful voice rang out from nearby.
'Maybe I'll just grab some bread.'
"Soi Spoon! How many are left!?"
"Will you stop calling me Soi Spoon! My name is Elise!"
"But sis, Mom gave you that name. Why don't you like it?"
The familiar name caught his attention.
He turned to see a brown-haired girl selling bread, arguing with two other children who looked to be her siblings, judging by their similar hair color.
"Because it sounds silly! Why am I the only one with a weird name? Sis is Celia, he's James, and I'm…"
"Elise Spoon, be patient."
"Fine, alright."
The sign above the shop read "Helaise Bakery."
Zeke approached the group.
"Soi Spoon?"
The brown-haired girl frowned and turned around, her expression quickly shifting to one of dumbfounded recognition.
"Who are you calling Soi Spo… huh? S-Swordsmanship Instructor?!"
"That's half right."
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