Patriot and Queen – Part 10
Much to Luke’s surprise, the sacred swordsmiths’ workshop was tucked away in the town’s factory district.
“Cities in the Militant Nation are built on the principle of integrating work and living spaces.” Doris explained as he led Luke and Lisa through the maze of buildings. “Craftsmen live and work in the same place, no matter their skill or status. Even a sacred swordsmith is treated no differently.”
The lamp Doris carried illuminated the entrance of a massive workshop. It was a single-story building with a low ceiling and a spacious interior. Several chimneys on the roof puffed out thick clouds of black smoke, and the clang of metal being hammered echoed even in the late hour.
“Our workshop is nothing like this,” Lisa muttered under her breath.
Luke shot his assistant a glare. She clamped a hand over her mouth.
Chuckling, Doris reached for the door, when it suddenly swung open from the inside. A man with gray hair appeared in the gap, clearly elderly at a glance. His sharp eyes narrowed in on Doris, then swept over Luke and Lisa. Terrified, Lisa hid behind Luke.
“Good grief, you startled me, Boss.” Doris sighed in relief. “Sorry to interrupt. I brought the blacksmith you asked for. Can we come in?”
“Sorry, Doris, but that’s not happening.”
“What?”
The man turned back toward the workshop and shouted, “They’re here!” As he stepped outside, a group of presumably apprentices began filing out after him. They all wore identical work clothes and bore identical expressions. A deep grimace.
“Wh-What’s the meaning of this? Didn’t Lady Zenobia say, ‘No secrets, show everything’?” Doris said, confused.
“Doris,” the boss growled. “We have our pride. Even if it’s the Girl King’s order, we can’t obey it.”
The gray-haired master glared at Luke, his sharp gaze undimmed by age. “We’ll forge the Sacred Sword with our own hands. Our technique is ours alone. We won’t show it to anyone, and we don’t need anyone’s help. Kid, sorry you had to come all the way to the Militant Nation, but we don’t need you. We want you to leave.”
Doris panicked, but the craftsmen showed no sign of relenting. They were clearly opposed to the technical exchange. Their message was clear. Even if it meant going against the Supreme Seat, they had no intention of letting anyone interfere with their craft.
Such was the nature of craftsmen. They honed their unique techniques over many years. Just as Luke’s blacksmithing methods were passed down only within family, their skills, too, were kept strictly within their own circle.
“L-Luke.” Lisa’s voice trembled as she glanced up at her master.
Luke stayed silent, his gaze locked with the sacred swordsmiths.
“I see,” he said at last. “In that case, there’s nothing more to be done.”
Without hesitation, he bent down.
“It’s meant purely as a deterrent. I won’t let my people be turned into twisted Inhumans.”
“But you consider it a trump card, don’t you?” Cecily shot back at Zenobia. “I’m sorry, but I believe the knowledge of Demon Pacts should either be sealed away or eradicated entirely.”
The air crackled with tension. It was an extraordinary sight—a knight facing off against the ruler of a nation. Despite Zenobia’s youthful appearance, her authority was undeniable. She was not someone whose opinions could be casually challenged. Harvey, watching from the side, regarded Cecily like she was out of her mind.
But Cecily didn’t back down. Not even an inch. Her mind raced back over her journey so far—her training under Luke, the life-or-death struggle with Hilda. Arrogance and defeat.
“You’re strong. At least, much stronger than before.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. Cecily had misjudged her own growth. She had become stronger, but it still wasn’t enough. She refused to settle with this.
I admit it. I’m weak. And because I’m weak, I won’t compromise a single thing.
She had made up her mind. She would protect her city, her friends, everything she held dear. She would turn the ideals she once shared with Siegfried, the man she loathed, into reality. Yielding was not an option.
Always forward. Beyond where she stood now. She would keep moving, striving for something higher.
That’s how she’d grow stronger.
“It’s not just about Demon Pacts,” Cecily added. “My duty is to protect the city and its people. That’s my priority. And that includes Aria.”
She cast a glance over her shoulder. Aria, standing behind her, smiled warmly.
It’s not just you. I will grow stronger too. I have to.
Though Aria hadn’t said a thing, Cecily somehow felt as if she had spoken those words. She could say with certainty that it wasn’t a trick of the mind. She knew exactly what Aria would say. Because they were comrades.
Cecily turned her attention back to Zenobia. “Aria needs the Aetheria created by Valbanill, as does Lisa. So I ask you to reconsider sealing away Valbanill instead of killing it.”
This was an issue Lisa and Aria could not ignore. But no one else cared enough to consider countermeasures that took their needs into account. That’s why Cecily had to raise her voice.
“Let me be clear,” Zenobia said. “Demons are not beings to be protected.”
“They are demons, yes. But they’re also citizens. My friends. They deserve protection too,” Cecily declared. “A peace built on sacrifices is nothing more than a fragile dream. True happiness comes from the happiness of each individual, built up slowly over time. That’s what I believe.”
“Do you honestly think we can achieve anything without sacrifices?” Zenobia countered. “That’s nothing but a naïve fantasy.”
“Maybe so,” Cecily conceded, “but it’s our responsibility—the ones who protect—to turn that fantasy into reality. Am I wrong, Girl King?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Cecily caught Harvey’s face turning pale. The audacity of her words was enough to get her beheaded on the spot, so his shock was understandable.
But he didn’t know. She had once stood just as boldly before the leaders of the continental nations.
Zenobia remained grimly silent for a long moment, before finally, reluctantly, speaking. “I believe Valbanill must be destroyed, not just because it gives wealth or incites conflict. As I mentioned earlier, we believe that even if we enlist the blacksmith’s help to improve our swords, we can’t fully recreate the Sacred Sword. The reality is, we don’t even have the means to attempt a ‘resealing.’”
Arvie, who had been biting his tongue, finally spoke up. “As I’ve said, the Sacred Sword is excellent at repelling misfortune, but that’s clearly not enough. Consider this: while dispelling Aetheria could kill Valbanill, maintaining a state of ‘sealing’ is a completely different matter. Killing isn’t the same as sustaining. Keeping that thing sealed for hundreds of years while it remains alive? That’s unimaginable. There has to be another factor beyond simply repelling misfortune that makes the Sacred Sword what it is. Otherwise, it just doesn’t add up. But we have no idea what that missing element is.”
Zenobia nodded solemnly. “That’s why we’ve abandoned the idea of ‘resealing.’ If we can’t seal it, the only option left is to destroy it.”
Cecily’s eyes were as cold as ice. Did they really think they could sway her with arguments that flimsy?
“Let me be perfectly clear. The Sacred Sword can be recreated. And not only that, something even greater can be achieved. I swear it.”
Zenobia’s expression soured. “Big words. Then, tell me, who do you believe can accomplish such a feat?”
“A foolish question.”
“I can.”
“None other than Luke Ainsworth.” Cecily’s voice rang out clearly. “Because he’s the…”
The sacred swordsmiths who didn’t know him exchanged puzzled glances. Doris, who knew Luke, looked utterly stunned. And Lisa, who had lived by his side all this time, could only stand there, eyes wide with disbelief.
For Luke had turned to the craftsmen, dropped to his knees, and bent forward, pressing his forehead to the ground in a full prostration.
“I beg you. Please lend me your strength.”
The words he spoke echoed the ones Cecily had once said to him, in that very same posture.
“It’s time to stop hiding in the shadows,” Luke said. “I’m running out of time. Just forging katanas with the techniques I inherited from my old man won’t cut it anymore. It’s nowhere near enough. I can never recreate the Sacred Sword on my own. That’s why I need your help.”
Lisa tried to call out Luke’s name but couldn’t. Her master, a proud person, was currently groveling. She couldn’t bring herself to interfere.
“I have to complete the Sacred Sword, no matter what. There’s someone who supports me, who puts their faith in me with almost foolish sincerity. They believe I can do it. Believe I’ll see it through. And I told them I could. So, I have to move forward. I need to face my past and put it to rest.”
He lifted his head, eyes blazing with resolve.
“There’s no escaping my fate. I won’t run anymore.”
“Because he’s the…”
“I’m…”
“…the sacred blacksmith.”
Laughter rang through the hall.
Zenobia Q. Lanchester, the Supreme Seat, was clutching her sides, laughing so hard in utter delight.
“What a bold woman! You’re like fire incarnate. I like you! Ever since Charlotte told me about you, I’ve been wanting to meet you in person. Inviting you here was indeed the right choice.”
Was that really why she summoned me? Cecily wondered, dumbfounded. Because she wanted to meet me?
While everyone else stood frozen in place, Arvie rubbed his temples as if he were nursing a headache.
“Very well,” Zenobia said. “Cecily Campbell, descendant of House Campbell, stay in the Militant Nation for a while. Debate to your heart’s content until both sides come to an understanding. I wish to speak with you more.” She spread her small arms wide. “The Girl King welcomes you!”
“F-Fuck that! We’re the ones who will forge the Sacred Sword! I don’t care what the Girl King says.”
Amidst the storm of accusations, Luke stayed prostrated. The craftsmen all closed in on him, but Doris quickly stepped in, holding them back.
Lisa snapped out of her shock and hurried to Luke’s side, dropping to her knees beside him.
“Luke, tell me. What do you mean by you’re running out of time?”
He didn’t respond. He just kept his head down.
“Luke!” she cried.
Finally, he lifted his head. But he didn’t say a word. He just looked at her with his right eye.
As she returned his gaze, her breath caught. She saw it. The cloud in his eye.
And she only noticed it now. After all this time.
“I-It can’t be!”
Her voice broke into a near scream, but Luke gave no reply. He simply held her gaze in silence.
His right eye would soon lose its light.
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