Blacksmith – Part 01
An old memory. The sky at sunset. The fading light painted the girl’s blonde hair with a crimson glow.
“I want to be…”
She lay sprawled on the grass, gazing up at the sky split between shades of red and gray. A worn wooden sword rested beside her. She wiped the dirt from her cheek with the back of her hand and let out a tired sigh. For what felt like the hundredth time, she muttered the same words.
“I want to be stronger.”
He lay next to her in the same position, though in far worse shape. He was too battered from their sparring to even move, feeling like a discarded rag doll.
“I want to be stronger,” the girl repeated again, pouting.
“Hard to believe that’s coming from the person who just beat me half to death in practice.”
He couldn’t even get up. The girl sat up and glanced down at him with a mocking grin.
“That’s just because you’re weak. You’ve been skipping Basil’s training, haven’t you? Making swords is the only thing you’re good at, and even then, you churn out mediocre blades.”
“I won’t argue that. But could you stop taking it out on me every time you fail the entrance exam?”
“Blame Uncle Hannibal. ‘I won’t allow anyone into the Guard who can’t land a single hit on me!’ he says. I meet all the other conditions—age, strength, skill—but he singles me out.”
“The old man’s just worried. He raised you, after all. And let’s face it, despite everything, you’re still—if you didn’t open your mouth—at least theoretically, a girl. Maybe. I’m not entirely sure.”
“Want me to split that mouth of yours in two?”
She probably would, too.
She raised her hand toward the setting sun, her palm silhouetted against its glow.
“I want to get stronger. Strong enough to finally beat him. Then, he’ll have no choice but to acknowledge me.”
“I’d rather you didn’t get too strong.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’d be out of my control.”
“If I’m still manageable to you, then I’m not much of a woman.”
She glanced at him with a smirk, chuckling under her breath.
“Oh, don’t sulk.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“I’m going to become a knight who protects this city. I’m not strong enough as I am now.” Her voice softened as she added, almost shyly, “I love this city.”
Was it the sunset that made her smile so dazzling, or something else entirely? His heart suddenly raced, his breath catching. He quickly turned away, focusing on the ashen part of the sky instead of the golden hues. Ridgelines loomed shadowy in the distance.
“How about praying to God? Ask him to make you a knight.”
Gods and spirits were said to dwell beyond the Ashen Woods.
The girl frowned. “I hate relying on gods.”
“Not much for faith, huh?”
“You don’t believe, either. I hate leaving things to others. If I want something, I’ll make it happen myself.”
“Is that so? Well, good luck with that.”
“Why are you acting like it has nothing to do with you?”
“What?”
“I’m going to protect this city with your mediocre swords. Uncle, Basil, you—you’re all in this.” She laughed at his bewildered expression. “So, you’d better improve as well.”
“I thought you hated leaving things to others.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
She nodded with such certainty that it felt true. There was something about the girl’s unshakable confidence that was contagious.
And honestly, it didn’t feel all that bad.
“Then let’s both improve, Liza Oakwood.”
“Sure thing, Luke Ainsworth.”
He knew. This was an old memory.
The rhythmic sound of iron being struck echoed through the forge of Atelier Liza.
With a cry, Lisa swung the sledgehammer down.
The weight of the hammer forced her to stand with her legs wide apart to maintain her balance. She straightened her back as she raised it, then sank her entire body down with each strike. Each swing was precise, never missing its mark, and the rhythm continued without pause for hours.
As she worked, sweat soaked her body, her breath quickened, and fatigue weighed down her arms. The labor was so grueling that even grown men would have given up. In sync with the master’s hammering, Lisa, despite her small frame, struck back resolutely and continuously. This was the technique she had ingrained in her body over three years, something she took pride in.
Given his strength and build, Luke appeared more suited for the role of the striker. But that wasn’t the case at all. As the master, he held the iron with tongs to prevent it from being flung away by the force of the blows while using a smaller hammer in his other hand to shape the metal. This role required a comprehensive understanding of the entire forging process and the final form of the katana.
Luke sat across from Lisa, staring blankly at the glowing iron. Red-hot metal sprayed sparks filled with impurities as it clashed with the hammer.
Was something wrong? Lisa glanced at her master’s face as she raised the hammer. Luke had been acting strange since morning.
His strikes were oddly slow. He was restless, frighteningly silent. He seemed normal yesterday, so maybe it was just a bad dream, or perhaps the slightly spoiled vegetables from breakfast.
Could it be her fault, then? Oh no. As Lisa fretted over the matter, she heard her name called.
“Lisa.”
Startled, she almost lost her balance and fell backward as she swung the hammer. She quickly steadied herself.
“Y-Yes! What is it?”
“I’m going out this afternoon,” Luke said flatly. “I need you to watch the place.”
“Got it. Oh, right.” She suddenly remembered. “The meeting’s today, isn’t it?”
“Right. I’ll have to attend that as well.”
As well. Lisa knew then. He was going to see her.
With her questions answered, all that was left to do was keep hammering.
Masking her emotions, Lisa mechanically raised and lowered the hammer, over and over. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing she could offer him.
Because she wasn’t her. She was not even human, just a mere demon.
An imitation.
Cecily Campbell was suspended for good reason. She had half-destroyed the government office, faced a salary reduction, racked up significant debt for repair costs, and received a temporary ban on using her Infernal Blade.
Her mother, Lucy Campbell, had given her a thorough scolding.
“I accepted the idea that you might follow in his footsteps, but this is too much. Destroying a sacred workplace. That’s not something a girl should do.”
Lucy sighed dramatically, resting her cheek on her hand. Already frail, she had become even more bedridden since losing her husband, and emotional stress took a toll on her health. Cecily felt terribly guilty and could only hang her head in response.
“I’m not asking you to be perfectly ladylike, but I wish you’d behave a bit more appropriately. Yes, you’re a knight, but you’re still a woman.”
A lot of things came to mind, and Cecily felt embarrassed. She had unwittingly adopted a masculine tone from her father’s influence. Her fighting style was aggressive, charging in without a second thought. She was strong-minded, unafraid to confront men. Most of her clothes were masculine, and the one time she picked out an outfit for Lisa, it was solely for the fun of imagining combinations she would never wear herself. She had absolutely no interest in dressing up for herself.
“Cecily, you should go outside today.”
“But, Mother, I’m suspended.”
While it wasn’t a strict order, remaining at home was expected during her suspension. Even if she was allowed to leave, she couldn’t bear the thought of facing her colleagues, and if possible, she wanted to avoid going out altogether. Cecily had decided to stay locked in her room for the duration of her suspension.
“Go outside.”
“Why are you so insistent?”
“Do you not have a man you admire?”
A specific person flashed into her mind. He was abrasive, capricious, and a smartass. But at the same time, he was skilled and oddly captivating. She shook her head vigorously. No. Not him. She swore on her sword. Over her dead body!
“Oh, so there really is someone. When did this happen?”
“D-Don’t get the wrong idea! I don’t have anyone like that. And I don’t need one either.”
“This is a perfect opportunity. Dress up nicely and invite that person out. Normally, the gentleman should do the inviting, but we can’t help that. You need to be reminded what it means to be a lady.”
“I told you, there’s no such man!”
“I can lend you some of my old clothes. They’ll be better than what you have. Fio, please handle the rest.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“W-Wait, Mother… Stop it, Fio! Watch your hand! Ah, no, wait!”
And so, Cecily Campbell was kicked out of her house.
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