Hero – Part 06
Hold on.
Realization suddenly struck, and Cecily glanced at Charlotte. It wasn’t just her who had a history with Siegfried. Charlotte had once led Doris, Margot, and Penelope into conflict with Cecily. In fact, he was the one who started it all. Was she okay? Concerned, Cecily studied Charlotte, but what she saw surprised her.
Charlotte stood tall, facing Siegfried with a steady, unwavering gaze. There was no bitterness in her eyes, no sign of the anger Cecily expected. Instead, she held herself with an air of dignity.
“It was my weakness that led to my downfall.”
Of course, she could never forgive the conspiracy he’d orchestrated. But the one thing she truly despised was her own weakness. Charlotte Firobischer had come to a conclusion that blaming others for falling for deception was a deplorable thing.
“However, I will not let anyone lay a hand on my employer.”
Her determination brought a brief moment of calm to Cecily.
Siegfried dismounted from his horse and helped the black-clad woman behind him get down. The Infernal Blade Evadne. She took the reins from Siegfried’s hand and stepped to his side with practiced elegance.
“I am Siegfried, leader of the Imperial Federation’s warriors,” the man said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquiantance.”
“It’s been a while, Mr. Siegfried,” Arvie replied, stepping forward to introduce the young queen. “This is Zenobia Q. Lanchester, the Supreme Seat of the Militant Nation.” He gestured to the other commanders. “And this is—”
“I don’t care about the side characters,” Siegfried interrupted, cutting the strategist off with a mocking grin. “I dislike pleasantries. Let’s just get started.”
“First the female warrior who came to negotiate, and now this. It seems your country has no shortage of insolent people. To think that only the leader of a band of warriors and their attendant would bother to show up for such an important event.” Zenobia said, figuring out his personality in the brief exchange. “Fine. Shall we begin the battle? Just to confirm, the victor will take control of the Valbanill Campaign rights from the vanquished?”
“That’s correct,” Siegfried replied.
“Our preparations were completed long ago. Where are your soldiers?”
Siegfried pointed his finger past the Militant Nation’s forces, into the empty horizon. Shadows flickered in the distance. It was an army on the march, noticeably smaller than the three hundred soldiers from the Militant Nation.
“We have seventeen units for the Valbanill Campaign,” Siegfried said. “Francisca will be taking command.”
Seventeen units? Units of what?
Cecily’s brow furrowed in confusion at his odd choice of words. Her mind flashed with the worst possible scenario, and her face instantly drained of color.
“I really wanted more, but this was all we could train to a manageable level,” the man added. “But they should be enough to deal with humans.”
“Siegfried! You can’t possibly—”
Siegfried turned his head, flashing them a grin. Cecily knew, in that instant, that her worst fears had come to life.
“Lady Zenobia, retreat your troops! Those are not enemies you can handle!” she shouted, panic rising in her chest.
The others looked at her in confusion.
“It’s too late now.”
Familiar quadruped Inhumans emerged from the mist.
“They should be starting right about now.”
“Hey, what happens if we lose?”
“Stop worrying. Our job’s done. Lady Zenobia will take care of the rest.”
Meanwhile, back in the workshop, the sacred swordsmiths were slumped on the ground, their faces slick with sweat. They had just finished forging replicas of the Sacred Sword until the early hours of the morning and delivered them to the soldiers of the Militant Nation. A weary atmosphere filled the workshop.
In a quiet corner of the workshop, Luke was focused on his final task, working alone. Hours ago, he had finished the quenching process, drilled holes into the tang, and adjusted the blade’s curvature and warp with careful hammer strikes. Now, he was polishing the edge, grinding it roughly against a rectangular sharpening stone in a technique known as rough polishing. Occasionally, he splashed water on the surface to wash away the debris.
This was the last step in the blacksmithing process—the final shaping of the sword’s edge. Normally, the blade would be passed on to a specialist sharpener or a scabbard maker, but Luke was doing it all himself.
Lisa sat quietly beside Luke, watching him work. Her eyes were focused on the blade he was sharpening.
This is probably his finest creation so far, Lisa thought, a feeling of pride settled in her chest.
A truly sharp blade, when viewed directly from the front, had an edge so fine it couldn’t even be seen. It was polished with such precision, so carefully and so delicately, that it didn’t reflect light. The sword Luke was holding now was exactly like that.
For the past few days, they had thrown themselves into their work, forging tirelessly using a new method. They had, of course, heard about the close-quarters combat and were worried about Cecily and the others, but they focused only on one thing—turning the jewel steel in front of them into a blade worthy of a master craftsman.
And it had paid off. They made it in time.
Luke straightened up, turning to the craftsmen resting nearby.
“Would you mind getting me a horse? A fast one, if possible.”
“What?”
“Please.” Luke turned to Lisa. “There’s no time to make a proper hilt. Do you have any cloth that might work? Wrap it through the rivet and bind my right hand to the blade.”
“Okay.” Lisa tore a strip of cloth from her knapsack, and began tying Luke’s hand to the sword’s tang as instructed. The craftsmen watched in silence, clearly puzzled.
“Wh-What exactly are you planning to do?” one asked.
“If I leave now, I can still make it in time for the battle.”
The craftsmen went from being completely exhausted to utterly stunned.
“You can’t be serious. Are you actually going to fight?!”
“We don’t have much of a choice,” Luke replied, watching Lisa tie his hand to the sword with a sigh. “There’s no point in overthinking it. That woman would definitely do the same. Honestly, I don’t like the idea of using a blade meant for Valbanill in a skirmish like this, but I can’t just ignore it. We’re not strangers, after all.”
Lisa chuckled softly. Luke hadn’t told her that he would head straight to the battlefield as soon as the sword was ready, but she knew he would. This was exactly what her master would do. Even if he never showed it, that was the kind of person he was.
“But… with that sword? It doesn’t even have a proper grip, and you haven’t even finished polishing it!”
“The final polish is just to refine the sword’s appearance . The blade still cuts fine without it. If anything, skipping it prevents scratches and rust from forming too easily.”
“There. All done.” Once Lisa finished tying the cloth, she let go of the sword. Luke practiced swinging the sword around to test its condition, then gave a firm nod. No issues for now.
He glanced down at Lisa, about to say something, but she cut him off with a bright smile.
“No point trying to stop me. I’ll follow you wherever you go. No questions asked. I’ll lose everything with you.”
That was the end of that discussion. Luke turned sharply on his heel, and Lisa followed swiftly behind him.
“Aren’t you going to inscribe a name?” a voice called out. It was the master of the sacred swordsmiths.
Normally, a blacksmith would engrave names on their work, both the crafter’s and the blade’s, into the tang of the sword. It was a tradition, a mark of pride in one’s craft. The master had asked because he valued that tradition.
Luke, however, never did inscriptions. He would never engrave names unless he was truly satisfied with a sword. In that sense, he hadn’t reached that point with this one yet. Lisa had expected him to give his usual answer.
“I’ll inscribe a name when I’ve made a blade worthy of being offered.”
Lisa looked up at him in surprise, but he didn’t meet her gaze. She didn’t need to ask to whom he would offer a katana.
There was only one person Luke wanted to give the Sacred Sword to right now.
She felt a little jealous, but she would never let it show.
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