Blacksmith – Part 05
“It will hold for another year, at most.” Justina glanced around the room. “According to classified documents left behind by the first Housman, the Sacred Sword maintaining the seal will reach its limit in about a year. That’s just an estimate, of course. The exact date was recorded, but how accurate it is remains unclear. The seal could hold longer, or it could fail sooner.”
This meeting of three nations and one city—known as the Valbanill Conference—was convened to prepare for that very day.
The first Housman, who laid the foundations of the Independent Trade City during the great war, was highly respected, both locally and abroad. His work on free trade and Prayer Pacts helped shape the continent’s post-war development, and his independent research into the continent’s history was widely regarded as credible.
The Sacred Sword and Valbanill. The records that shook the continent had been thoroughly studied, and since then, such meetings had been held multiple times under the oversight of the Continental Law Commission.
“What’s the status of the Militant Nation’s countermeasures?”
“Our preparations are proceeding smoothly as planned, yes. We should be ready to mobilize within a moment’s notice.”
“And the Crowd Powers?”
“It’s a bit complicated. A few smaller countries are still reluctant to integrate. We’ll work to incorporate them by the end of the year.”
“That would be great. Mr. Arthur, what about the Empire?”
“We’ve been prepared for some time now, including the group of warriors I just introduced. More importantly, we need to revisit the proposal we discussed before. We should have Imperial or Military troops stationed in the Independent Trade City at all times to handle unexpected situations—”
“This topic again? That would lead to the division of the city by the nations, which goes against the principle of free trade established by the first Housman.”
“Housman, if you genuinely regarded Valbanill as a threat, you would reconsider. At the very least, we should establish garrisons for each nation’s troops.”
“The city must remain independent from all nations—that is the first Housman’s will, which I inherited. I will not compromise on that.”
“Are you seriously weighing an entire continent against a single city?”
“Just say you want to take over the city.”
“You watch your mouth, young man.”
Augustus and Housman glared at each other.
“Enough!” Justina rebuked. “Mr. Arthur, that proposal was rejected in the last meeting. Please refrain from bringing it up without proper thought. Mr. Housman, please avoid making assumptions.”
Augustus clicked his tongue and turned away, while Housman bowed his head slightly, murmuring, “My apologies.”
Justina sighed and adjusted her glasses with her finger. “Mr. Housman, is the blacksmith coming soon?”
“I apologize for the delay.”
“Have you heard anything from him about the development of the second Sacred Sword?”
Housman shook his head, and Justina frowned.
“Mr. Irving, how is the Militant Nation faring? I’ve heard there’s people in your country who inherited blacksmithing techniques.”
“We’ve produced several trial pieces, yes. However, whether they’ll be sufficient for re-sealing is unknown. Regardless, I brought one with me.”
Arvie called for someone, and a man in the same military uniform entered the room. He placed a sword on the round table before exiting.
“So this is a katana made by the Militant Nation.”
It was a beautifully crafted blade, with a black-lacquered sheath, an iron guard, and a handle intricately woven with leather and thread. Weapons were typically prohibited in gatherings of national leaders, but permission had been granted for this.
“Very well. We’ll compare it with the blacksmith’s katana later. Next—”
“The blacksmith’s forging techniques should be shared with the Empire and the Crowd Powers!” Augustus interrupted.
Justina’s brows knitted. “We’ve also already discussed that in a previous meeting.”
“We should have completed two or three Sacred Swords by now. Progress has been painfully slow. Shouldn’t we aim for rapid production of the Sacred Sword by making the technique available to the entire continent?”
“I see. The rumor that the Empire is independently searching for a blacksmith may not be entirely unfounded,” Lancelot Douglas interjected. “The only ones unaware of the forging technique are the Empire and the Crowd Powers. They want it so desperately they’d go to great lengths to acquire it. I understand the sentiment all too well.”
“Douglas, you scoundrel!”
“Mr. Douglas, please refrain from making statements based on conjecture.”
Here we go again.
In the noisy conference room, Hannibal felt a wave of exasperation wash over him. This was the same cycle as always.
The Tri-Nation-One-City conference typically never got anywhere. This was because everyone attended with their own national interests in mind. In light of Valbanill’s resurgence, they were all trying to figure out how best to profit from the situation. The discussions inevitably devolved into endless schemes and political maneuvering, and the meeting always ended in a deadlock.
As Hannibal had told Cecily numerous times, the balance of power among nations was delicately distributed. Their cooperation in pursuit of continental stability and the threat posed by Valbanill was nothing more than a façade. No one knew when these nations, constantly vying for their own interests, might spark a war. The tension that had persisted since the end of the last conflict still lingered even now.
Hannibal had no interest in the concept of profit. His only goal was to prevent the reoccurrence of the Proxy Pact War, to protect life in the Independent Trade City. He knew what hell awaited them if history repeated itself. Under no circumstances could he allow that to happen again.
He aimed to maintain the balance of power among the continental nations and ensure that Valbanill remained sealed. It was an idealistic thought, but Hannibal was serious about it.
These people never get tired of this, do they?
The meeting room buzzed with the usual back-and-forth. A creeping sense of exhaustion began to spread among the participants.
Sighing, Hannibal glanced out the window. In stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside, the sky was clear and bright. He hated how gentle the sunlight was.
Damn you, Luke.
The blacksmith responsible for forging a Sacred Sword was supposed to attend this meeting. After the previous smith passed, Luke had taken over the role, but he still hadn’t shown up. Probably idling away because he wasn’t interested in the meeting.
Where was he wasting time now?
He was in the Sixth District.
This part of the city was much quieter than the bustling central district. The streets here were lined with monasteries dedicated to spirit worship, modest homes, and inexpensive lodgings, creating a much more peaceful atmosphere. Luke walked past groups in white monastic robes as the sound of children playing echoed faintly in the background.
“It’s about to what?”
Luke nodded. “Do you know why the first Housman founded the Independent Trade City here?”
“Uh, because this region has a high concentration of Aetheria, and the first Housman realized it could be used for Prayer Pacts, right?”
“Textbook answer. Did you just memorize that?”
“Wh-What’s wrong with that?” Cecily stammered defensively.
Aetheria were said to be invisible particles suspended in the air, originally used in Demon Pacts during the Valbanill War. Those dark rituals involved sacrificing human flesh and significantly made the war worse. But the first Housman repurposed them for Prayer Pacts, which ultimately led to the rise of the Independent Trade City.
He also instilled the practice of animism in the city’s culture. Thanks to these pacts, the city flourished into a major trading hub on the continent within just forty-four years.
Still, Cecily couldn’t figure out the connection to Valbanill.
“Here’s another question. What do people worship in Prayer Pacts?”
“God… right?”
“Specifically, they worship this entire region as God or Spirit. More precisely, they revere Blair Volcano, where Aetherial concentration is highest, as their God. This is common knowledge. Are you actually dumb?”
“I-I’m not smart, but I know that much. I just didn’t say it out loud.”
“Then why are Aetheria so concentrated here? Why do they gather around the volcano?”
“Uh… That’s…”
“What is Aetheria?”
“They’re invisible particles… used as mediums for Prayer and Demon Pacts…”
“I mean, on a fundamental level. What are they exactly? Why do they exist?”
“Ugh…”
Luke’s rapid-fire questions left Cecily stumbling. Unable to give an answer, she started worrying that maybe she really was dumb.
“I-Is this common knowledge too?”
“No, not really.”
Oh, good.
“Aetheria is actually Valbanill’s curse itself.”
“Ah, I see… Hmm?” Something clicked in her mind. “Isn’t that classified information?”
“It is.” He smirked.
Cecily gaped at the mischievous glint in his eyes. She glanced around nervously, worried someone might overhear.
Unbothered, Luke continued, “Demon Pacts are a system created by Valbanill.”
“What kind of system?”
“A system designed to make people kill each other.”
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