Princess – Part 01
Prologue
Steam swirled through the smithy, rising in twisting spirals.
With a swift motion, Luke plunged the blade into the cooling tank. Moments ago, it had been glowing red in the furnace, radiating intense heat. As soon as it hit the cold water, it hissed, bubbled, and sent up clouds of steam. The water churned, but the blade cooled rapidly, losing its fiery glow and fading to a dull gray characteristic of iron.
After several seconds, Luke pulled the blade out with a pair of iron tongs. Water splashed, soaking his sleeves. He held the unfinished katana—bare, hiltless, tang exposed—aloft above his head.
The blade had a slight curve from base to tip, and along its edge ran a wavy temper line. Upon closer inspection, the grain looked like the texture of tree bark.
“How is it?” Lisa asked, watching closely.
“Not bad,” Luke muttered.
Hearing his brief assessment, Lisa let out a sigh of relief. The heat inside the smithy was intense. Having just finished her task, she was leaning wearily on the sledgehammer, breathless and drenched in sweat. Despite everything, she managed a smile.
“So, the quenching was a success,” she said.
This was Atelier Liza, specifically the forge in the outbuilding.
Luke Ainsworth, a 17-year-old who ran the workshop, examined the blade intently with his one good eye. Kneeling before the furnace, he placed the blade on the anvil and began tapping it lightly with a small hammer. Hammer, inspect, hammer, inspect. Tiny sparks flew with each strike, and steam rose from the metal. His black hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead. From this angle, he could be considered rather handsome. If only he didn’t have such an insufferable personality.
No, I don’t have a thing for him. None at all!
Lisa, ever diligent, wiped the sweat from his brow and cheeks with a cloth. She was a live-in assistant at the smithy. With her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, she observed her master’s work with keen, bright eyes. She was a nice, young girl.
Both wore the same worn-out work clothes, their skin and hair smudged with soot.
The forge mainly produced everyday blades—kitchen knives and farming tools that kept the business afloat. Occasionally, though, Luke forged swords called katanas. Not for sale, but for personal reasons.
Much to Cecily’s frustration, Luke Ainsworth never made katanas on commission. He always claimed he only forged them for himself, for reasons he wouldn’t explain. That was until recently, when he finally made an exception. After being worn down by the persistence of a certain lady knight, Luke promised to forge a katana for her.
And that lady knight is me. Luke had agreed to make me a katana.
“He agreed.”
“What are you mumbling about over there?” Luke said with a hint of irritation, glancing towards the window of the forge, towards her. He didn’t stop his hammering.
Cecily’s head was poking through the open window as she looked inside.
“He promised.”
“Just come inside already.”
She withdrew her head, then slowly entered the smithy through the open door. Her fiery red hair, cropped at shoulder length, swayed slightly in the heat. It was very humid inside. She narrowed her slightly moist, red eyes to protect them. Her brow arched.
“It’s… hot.”
The small pendant hanging around her neck glinted in the light of the forge. This proud symbol and her attire marked her affiliation. A thin, iron breastplate molded to her curves, a white waistcloth, gloves, and boots reinforced with iron at the heels. Though slightly tailored to her preferences, it generally followed the prescribed uniform. At her waist hung a short sword for self-defense.
Cecily Campbell was a member of the Independent Trade City’s Third District Knight Guard. At sixteen, she was still new to knighthood, but she’d started to feel like she was getting the hang of things. At least, she liked to think so.
Grimacing against the sweltering heat, Cecily glanced around the smithy. It was more of a small shed than a forge. Unlike the separate wooden house where Luke lived, this structure was made of stone for fire safety. It felt a bit cramped, filled with a massive furnace, bellows, a water tank, a sharpening stone, hand hammers, sledges, and scraps of metal. Luke stood by the furnace, scrutinizing then striking the blade, carefully adjusting it.
“Hi, Cecily. We’ll be done soon, so just hang on a bit,” Lisa said as she busied herself, clearing tools and moving hot coals into a metal box. “We’ll have lunch right after.”
“Oh, no need to rush! I’m the one barging in. But, um, what were you doing just now?”
“Hmm? You mean the quenching?”
“Yeah, I think that’s it.”
A sword-wielding protector of the city, Cecily held a keen interest in the sword-making process.
Lisa proceeded to explain. “I mentioned before that most swords on the continent are made using casting, right? They melt iron and pour it into molds, which allows for mass production of identical blades. That’s why so many swords have straight blades. But Luke’s katanas have a gentle curve.”
This mass-production technique had developed to meet the demands of the continent during the Valbanill War. Nowadays, casting was the mainstream method.
In contrast, Luke and Lisa practiced traditional forging, crafting each sword by hand. This method, largely overshadowed by casting, produced swords that they referred to as katanas.
This type of forging was becoming increasingly rare, and Luke Ainsworth was one of the few artisans who still upheld this tradition.
“The curve of the sword doesn’t form during the initial forging stage. To summarize the process: through repeated folding, jewel steel is tempered hundreds of times, shaping the core steel and skin steel to build the blade. The steel is then hammered and elongated, with one end cut at an angle to create the tip. During fire forging, it’s shaped into a katana while water is applied to establish the ridge, the edge is formed, and then the surface is smoothed and refined with files and rasps. Clay is applied to create the temper line, and the blade is heated until it glows bright red using the bellows.”
Lisa recited all this effortlessly, counting on her fingers, but Cecily was utterly confused, overwhelmed by the technical jargon. Did sword-making really require so many steps?
“And then the blade, heated to several hundred degrees, is rapidly cooled.” Lisa pointed to the tank in the corner of the smithy. “That’s the quenching process we just did. It’s during this cooling that the blade finally curves. Quenching is crucial for the sword’s quality, so it requires utmost focus.”
“I-I see.” Cecily nodded. Though she didn’t fully understand everything, she grasped the gist of it. She felt a genuine sense of admiration.
She glanced over to see Luke still focused on the same task.
“Right now, Luke is refining the blade. By hammering it, he corrects any warps or bends. After that, there’s still rough sharpening and polishing left to do. Completion is still quite a ways off.”
So profound. Watching the young man’s serious profile, Cecily crossed her arms. “Amazing.”
“Yes, Luke is amazing!” Lisa beamed, as if she was the one being complimented. Her trust in him was evident, and Cecily couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“You’re plenty amazing yourself, Lisa.”
Lisa froze, surprised.
“I can’t imagine Luke handling all this work himself. How many people are usually involved in forging a sword?”
“Uh, um…”
“Three,” Luke interjected without looking up. “Besides the master, there are two apprentices. That’s the ideal number.”
“I see. But in this smithy, Lisa is doing the work of two apprentices by herself. I say that’s impressive.”
“I-It’s not impressive at all! Not even close!” Lisa denied.
“There’s no need to be modest. Atelier Liza can’t function without you. Isn’t that right, Master?”
“I won’t deny it,” Luke replied curtly.
Lisa quickly turned away. “I-I should tidy up,” she stammered, fleeing the scene. Her neck was flushed with embarrassment. Praise was something she clearly wasn’t used to.
Smiling softly, Cecily turned her attention back to Luke’s work. The unfinished blade rebounded with each strike of his hammer. Just watching the sparks fly made her heart race.
Yeah, I really want a katana, Cecily reaffirmed.
It all began with her search for a weapon that could become her partner, to protect the city as a knight. Recently, she had acquired an Infernal Blade, fulfilling the need for a powerful companion in battle. But now, it was more than that. It wasn’t about logic anymore.
As a knight—and more importantly, as a swordswoman—she wanted one of his katanas. She had become captivated to the point of no return.
“I already got your word that you’d make one for me.” Cecily giggled.
“You can mumble to yourself all you want,” Luke responded dryly, “but I’m not making it unless you bring the money.”
“S-So cold.” Cecily shifted her tone to a pleading one. “I want to protect this city with Aria and your sword!”
“I don’t care about your reasons.”
“Like I said, I’ll pay later, and in installments.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, you wimpy knight.”
“Cheapskate.”
Luke stubbornly refused to give in, and Cecily could only groan in frustration.
Luke’s katanas were forged from expensive high-purity jewel steel. Though Cecily was the current head of the once-noble House Campbell, she was just a grunt in the Knight Guard, so she couldn’t afford such costs. That’s why she was constantly coming around, trying to negotiate.
“Hey, Lu—”
“Money.”
“At least let me finish!”
Her attempts, as usual, were getting her nowhere.
Cecily heard a triumphant “All right!” behind her. She turned to see Lisa dusting off her clothes, the cleanup apparently done.
“It’s almost lunchtime. Where’s Aria?”
“She’s outside.”
“Then, shall we? Luke, I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
“All right,” Luke responded, his hammer still striking the steel as Cecily and Lisa left the smithy.
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