“Hmm...”
I held up the short sword blade I had just finished, inspecting it at various angles. It seemed my skills as a blacksmith, or perhaps my sensitivity to metal, had dulled somewhat after all. Well, I suppose the last time I had worked any metal was back when I was staying in Outo. Since then, I’d left to see the Fusou Tree, then immediately boarded a ship to return to the center of the continent, so quite a bit of time had passed. I guess I should have expected that spending so much time on a swaying ship and not being able to so much as touch a hammer would mess with my skills.
As far as the quality of this particular sword went... I supposed it was technically good enough. But even so—or perhaps specifically for that reason—I couldn’t accept it, and decided to try again. If I sold this sword as it was, I would definitely come to regret it once my sense for blacksmithing returned just a few pieces later. If that day came and I decided I wanted to fix this one, it would be too late.
If it had been really bad, the blacksmithing guild wouldn’t have accepted it in the first place...but although it might sound arrogant, even this piece was better than what you’d find in your average shop. The skills I had picked up on my journey east had made me a much better smith than before, and the spirits in the forge here were already quite accustomed to my quirks. I just wasn’t in great shape at the moment. So right now was the only chance I’d have to choose to start this sword over. I couldn’t lie to myself.
The blacksmithing guild had three jobs for me. The first was the mass production of swords and spears for the soldiers manning the fortress. The second was the familiar job of creating an example piece for use in teaching the other smiths. The third was to make a showpiece to give as a present to the duke of Travoya.
I was told to take whichever I liked, so I settled on the first for now. Going all out to make an example piece or a showpiece to present to the duke were interesting jobs in their own ways, but what this city needed most right now was equipment for their soldiers. Being a mass production job, I couldn’t fuss too much over the steel I had available, nor could I spend a lot of time on each individual piece. The size and shape were all predetermined, so there was only so much craftsmanship I could put into it.
In the end, the quality of the piece was heavily limited by these conditions, but I still wanted to turn out the best possible work I could within those constraints. The soldiers of Janpemon would be entrusting their lives to these weapons.
Of course, having a good-quality weapon played only a small part in whether a soldier lived or died. To a degree, it was almost irrelevant. But if I could make a weapon that would endure where others might break, it might save that soldier’s life. And if I made not one weapon but ten, and not ten weapons but a hundred, then the chances of that happening would slightly improve.
Luckily, I could work fairly quickly. That was thanks to my teacher, Oswald, who had always worked quickly himself. Even if the first one, two, or even three swords I turned out were scrap, if I could get it right on the fourth one, I’d still have plenty of time to make up for what had been spent on the failures. Once I had made a good number of weapons for the soldiers, I could then think of turning my attention to the other requests.
That second job, creating another example piece using every shred of skill I could muster, was especially appealing. Compared to the last time I had taken that job, I was sure that I was much improved...or at least I would be, once I got back into the swing of things.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I breathed a heavy sigh and got to work reforging the sword I had just made. The sound of the bellows feeding fresh air into the forge and the ring of the hammer striking hot steel all served to shake off the rust from my senses.
Sharper, ever sharper.
The sun eventually set, and I had to set aside my tools and clean up. Exchanging a few words with the receptionist from earlier, I headed back to the inn. It felt like I had slipped right back into my old habits. If I was working on something that absolutely had to be done, I could spend the night in the forge, but it was worth taking a break when I had the chance.
There were times when immersing myself exhaustively in the work felt like it improved my focus, but that was mostly an illusion. The more I tired myself out, the harder the work became and the less I could bring myself to pay attention to what was going on around me, giving the impression that my focus was improving. Whether I was actually focusing well or just felt like it due to fatigue would come out quite strongly in the quality of my finished piece. No matter how the process felt, the results never lied. That was yet another lesson I had learned from my master, Oswald.
Even dwarves, a race famed for their endurance, lost efficiency if they kept working for extended periods of time. For someone like me who could never hope to match their stamina, being able to resist the urge to work “just a little longer” and cut myself off was an important and necessary skill, and part of what made me a good blacksmith.
A gentle, comforting breeze blew through the twilit streets of Janpemon. The smell of food cooking wafted out of the stone buildings painted red by the sunset, making my stomach growl. As much as I had enjoyed seeing new people and new things every day during my journey east, this slow-paced lifestyle was also a thing of joy for me.