Blacksmith – Part 03
It was an unusual gathering.
“Thank you all for joining us today.”
High-ranking officials from each nation had convened in a conference room at the government office in the Independent Trade City’s Third District. They were seated at a round table.
“Another pointless meeting,” grumbled a burly man with a scruffy head of hair. Clad in black armor, he stared at the assembly with a piercing gaze. A long cloak embroidered with a crown emblem draped over his shoulders. Despite his advanced age, his physique and demeanor were fierce, belying his years. His name was Augustus Arthur, Commander of the Imperial Knights.
“Our attendance alone has its significance, yes,” said a man in military attire. He was Arvie Irving, a strategist from the Militant Nation who had been in the city for over a week. He had neatly trimmed hair cut straight across and wore silver-rimmed glasses.
“It isn’t easy for us old folks to make the journey,” croaked the oldest man in the room. With a white beard and a faded robe typical of monks, he had sunken eyes that seemed to gaze into the void. Lancelot Douglas, hailing from a country in the Crowd Powers, came as a representative of the commonwealth.
“These regular meetings are important. We can’t neglect them,” said Hugo Housman, the current mayor of the Independent Trade City of Housman. Behind him stood Hannibal Quasar, the captain of the Third District Knight Guards.
Representatives from the Empire, the Militant Nation, the Crowd Powers, and the Independent Trade City faced one another in what could only be described as a bizarre unofficial assembly. Anyone well-versed in the continent’s political climate would surely faint at the sight.
“By the way, Lord Augustus,” Arvie broached a topic. “I’ve heard a rumor I’d like you to address. It’s just a rumor, yes.”
“What is it? Speak up.”
“There’s word that the Empire is independently collecting Infernal Blades and searching for craftsmen who can recreate Sacred Swords. What do you say to that?”
Augustus shot a glare at Arvie. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Is that so? So, it’s just misinformation, then. What about the rumor that the Empire recently had Infernal Blades stolen?”
Augustus’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “That one is true. Thieves impersonating the imperial family attacked the Independent Trade City. The stolen Infernal Blades were recovered, but unfortunately, the thieves got away. Isn’t that right, Housman?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Housman nodded. His face was blank. “You all saw earlier the aftermath of the battle, I presume. Thankfully, this meeting room was spared, but the other wing was partially destroyed. They were a formidable adversary.”
Hannibal chuckled bitterly from the back, but no one commented on it.
“Thieves impersonating the imperial family, huh?”
“If you have something to say, Irving, just spit it out.”
“Oh, I’m not implying anything. I simply find it curious that the Empire, which claims it isn’t collecting Infernal Blades, seems to have them in its possession, yes.”
“We did not collect them. We had them in our possession from the beginning. Does that answer your question?”
“It does, yes.”
“It’s my turn to ask you a question. Where did you hear that rumor?”
“I could not say. I seem to have forgotten, rumors being as they are.”
Arvie deflected Augustus’s hostile gaze with a smile. Hannibal, observing the exchange, sighed wearily. This tension was nothing new.
“That’s enough probing, gentlemen. We can’t start the meeting at this rate,” interjected Justina Albright, the only woman in the room.
She had her hair neatly tied in a bun at the back of her head, her sharp eyes concealed behind glasses. Though she was petite and the youngest among them, she was an inspector for the Continental Law Commission and served as the facilitator for the meeting.
The Continental Law Commission was established following the end of the Proxy Pact War, also known as the Valbanill War. Composed of representatives from various nations, it was responsible for drafting continental law, coordinating discussions, and facilitating political negotiations.
Justina glanced behind Augustus. “Mr. Arthur. I see you’ve brought a first-time attendee with you?”
“Ah, yes.” He turned to look at the man standing behind him. “He’s the captain of the Imperial Warriors, a recently-formed group. He was permitted to attend this meeting at the Emperor’s decree.”
The man was tall and lean. Dressed entirely in black, he wore simple clothes like those of a commoner, rather than armor like Augustus. His eyes, with visible sclera on three sides, were narrowed, and he stood idly with a stony expression.
“His name is Siegfried,” Augustus introduced. “You’ll be seeing more of him.”
Housman, Hannibal, and Arvie all shifted slightly at the mention of his name but offered no further reaction.
“Let’s move on to today’s agenda,” Justina said. “Mr. Housman, what about the blacksmith?”
“I’m sorry. It seems he’s running late.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“I apologize. He will arrive eventually.”
“Not much can be done about that. We’re pressed for time, so let’s get started.” Confirming that everyone’s attention was on her, she continued, “The city calls it God, the Empire calls it the King, the Militant Nation calls it the Beast, and the Crowd Powers calls it Machina. To all, its name is Valbanill.”
Her voice resonated around the table.
“The Tri-Nation-One-City summit—commonly known as the Valbanill Conference—is now in session.”
“Cecily Campbell, I’ve been wondering.”
“That came out of nowhere. About what, Luke Ainsworth?”
“The way you’re walking. It’s… a little awkward, no?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“But you trip over nothing every ten steps or so.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I heard you went wild in that last fight. You sure you’re not dealing with any injury?”
“Your eyes must be playing tricks on you.”
The problem started the moment she became aware.
They had only known each other for about a month, meeting every few days, but Lisa or Aria or someone else had always been there. This was the first time they were truly alone, and the realization hit her hard.
The moment she became aware of it, it was too late. She hesitated even to glance his way. And as if on cue, Lucy’s words—a man you admire—flashed through her mind, making her palms sweat. Despite her denial, her every movement was stiff, and she found herself walking awkwardly next to Luke.
Today, the Third District’s marketplace was as lively as ever. The hawking of street vendors and the hum of the crowd filled every gap in conversation. The wide array of items displayed at the storefronts—shoes, pots, knives, fabric, rare glassworks—should have been a feast for the eyes, but a strange tension made it hard to fully appreciate them.
The market wasn’t crowded to the point of squeezing through people, but busy enough that they had to navigate carefully to avoid bumping into anyone. At least, Cecily thought, they wouldn’t run into her patrolling colleagues here.
And to top it off, Luke had called her outfit today as her dressing up as a girl. That remark infuriated her still.
“So, where are we going?” Cecily asked.
“You’ll see soon enough. It’s not exactly a fun place, though.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll come along.”
Luke let out a small chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Relax. I’m not going to eat you or anything. No need to be so tense.”
“Wh-What?!” Her eyes whipped towards him, only to find a wicked grin. Realizing he was poking fun at her, her face flushed, and she turned away in a huff.
“Don’t get all mopey on me now.”
“I’m not.”
“You really are a handful, just like someone I know.” Luke stopped. “Oh, hang on a second.”
Cecily turned and saw him speaking with a young street vendor. It happened so suddenly that she didn’t get a chance to ask who that someone was.
The vendor was selling flowers. Luke quickly picked out three from the overflowing basket. With a bright smile, she handed him the flowers. Luke paid her copper coins before turning back.
Cecily stood there idly, waiting. Luke raised an eyebrow at her.
“You’re not moping still, are you?”
“What? No, I—uh, what are those flowers for?”
“A little gift.”
A gift. The flowers were all different, but each one was white.
Out of nowhere, Luke reached out and gently brushed Cecily’s hair aside with his fingers. Startled, she stepped back and touched the spot where he’d made contact.
She felt something soft on her ear, and she could see white at the edge of her vision.
“Wh-What?”
“Just take it.”
A white flower, its stem cut short, was tucked behind her left ear.
The moment she realized what had happened, her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. The sudden, unexpected gesture felt nothing short of a strange phenomenon.
Luke had given her a flower.
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