Even if the blade was splendid, if its other components fell short, it would ultimately look unimpressive. I needed to make the rest of the knife as magnificent as the orichalcum.
“But what can possibly match an orichalcum blade?” I wondered.
The most difficult part of the process was complete, but the knife wasn’t completely finished yet. Rike, Maribel (who was likely just copying us), and I crossed our arms, deep in thought. We still couldn’t come up with an idea.
“I feel like some kind of divine motif—one that resembles some kind of god—would match it, but...”
Rike shook her head. “It’s not quite right.”
“Yeah. Just feels off.”
The beautifully elegant form, rainbow flow, and the clear sound it made—these attributes were nothing short of divine. I mocked up a few rough sketches to brainstorm, but nothing quite suited the blade. I showed my ideas to Maribel too.
“Hrm...” she groaned without saying anything more.
Seems like she doesn’t like any of these options either. I didn’t want to stop everyone else from working, so I didn’t ask the others. Maybe I’ll bring it up over dinner tonight.
That evening, I prepared dinner as usual. The nights weren’t as cold these days, and we’d recently spent more time eating out on the terrace with Krul. I want to say that the world falls silent at night, but every now and then, I can hear the birds and other animals crying out within the darkness. I recalled what I’d been told back on Earth: Japan’s countryside is often wrongly depicted as quiet. In truth, the insects and frogs are pretty noisy. Since I never really spent any time in the boonies, I can’t confirm this.
“They won’t venture out here, though,” Samya assured us, and we chattered away, ignoring the sounds of wildlife.
“I did hear you guys mumbling earlier,” Samya continued. “That’s what’s been on your mind, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I can’t seem to find a design that matches the vibes of the knife.”
“Could we see your sketches?” Diana asked.
“Yeah, gimme a sec.”
I stepped into the forge, which was completely quiet now that the fire was out, and grabbed the rough sketches I’d made, along with a writing utensil.
“I drew these.” I lined them up on the edge of the table, away from the dishes.
“They all look quite nice,” Anne said, peering at them from above.
Krul, who was the same height as Anne, let out a small “Kululu.”
I don’t think my daughter really gets it, but she’s so cute, and I’m willing to let her do anything she pleases.
“I guess they look okay on the page,” I said. “And...”
I sketched our usual steel knife onto the paper. I wasn’t sure if my smithing or production cheats worked here, but I was decent at drawing. I added a design for the handle and sheath as well. The knife looked a bit solemn and dignified—it wasn’t half bad.
“Not bad, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, looks all right,” Anne replied with a nod.
“A bit too flashy for me to use, though,” Helen said.
I gave a faint smile. “I’m not thinking about practical purposes this time around.”
Helen nodded. “Fair enough.”
I didn’t worry much about providing a smooth grip or making the knife easy to unsheathe. As long as the weapon as a whole looked nice and presentable, that was good enough for me.
“But this same design on the orichalcum knife isn’t quite right...” I said.
I did a quick sketch of the orichalcum blade and fitted it with my previous designs.
Diana clearly looked befuddled as she tilted her head to one side. “Huh? Hmm...” she muttered.
“Looks a bit weird, doesn’t it?” I asked.
Everyone nodded along. The design just didn’t feel right with the orichalcum blade. My cheats didn’t really work when it came to design, likely because they determined that the blade was usable enough, and ornamentation was superfluous. Even if it looked a bit wonky, the blade was fine as long as it could be used—that satisfied my cheats.
I gaze up at the night sky; our view wasn’t very vast when surrounded by all the trees, but countless stars twinkled down at me.
“I’m also not sure if a simple design will suffice,” I explained. “This is gonna be a gift, so...”
“I doubt father will mind, but both nations have appearances to maintain,” Anne said.
“The kingdom will probably keep the fact that they received the material from the empire a secret,” Diana added, “but we would like to at least show how much time and effort went into crafting the blade.”
The two nobles shook their heads. The kingdom had more than enough incentive to provide a gift that was meticulously and painstakingly crafted. Not only could a splendid gift curry favor with the receiver, but the gifter could also boast the skills and technology their nation possessed. As for the empire’s perspective, if the kingdom provides a magnificent and lavish gift, it speaks volumes about how much the kingdom values the alliance and friendship of the two nations. In either scenario, a simple knife wouldn’t do, and it was better to have a beautifully adorned—if not a touch garish—blade to present.
“Yeah, it can’t look too plain...” I muttered.
My family and daughters tilted their heads with confusion, just like I’d done that afternoon. All the while, Krul poked her head into the terrace, sensing a change in the air as everyone tried to think of a solution.
“Kululu.”
Guess we worried her.
“Good girl,” I said, stroking her head.
She narrowed her eyes comfortably and gave a faint growl from the back of her throat, signaling her pleasure. Her mannerisms were so adorable that it was so easy to forget she was a type of dragon (though I’d been told that she was more like a distant relative to the dragons).
“Wait... A dragon,” I muttered.
I placed a hand on my chin, my mind racing to piece together a design. If I can make those gentle curves resemble a dragon’s tail or claws, the entire piece might look pretty cool. I just need to avoid drawing a caricature or exaggerated features of a dragon, and I don’t want to make it all cutesy like a mascot either. No, the motif should be simpler and more true to life... Maybe this can work. A powerful symbol was the perfect match for a powerful blade. Maybe the motif of a god was too abstract and vague for the knife. Besides, I feel like that emperor would enjoy the design of a dragon better than a deity. My only other concern is...
“Are dragons seen as omens of evil?” I asked. “Or are dragons unpopular symbols or something?”
I turned to my family. Back on Earth, quite a few cultures treated dragons as harbingers of sin. If the design was unbefitting of an emperor, the gift would become a rather rude one. And I’d like to avoid any problems if I can.
In general, dragons were often seen as symbols of the land, rivers, mountains, and other elements of nature. Defeating one also implied that a portion of nature was now under the victor’s control. But in this world, the core of the realm was none other than the Dragon of the Land. In other words, an item with the design of a dragon could also imply that one had the intent of controlling a portion of nature with their very hands. Very quickly, this symbol of friendship could turn into a dangerous one.
My installed knowledge allowed me to steer clear of extreme dangers (probably so that I wouldn’t unwittingly screw up and get myself killed), but it didn’t include anything about that. I doubted that I’d be given the death sentence for having the design of a dragon, but I wasn’t keen on being severely punished either.
I turned to Diana and Anne. “This’ll be a gift from the kingdom to the empire. Would this design be a sort of taboo in either nation?”
Diana and Anne thought long and hard with crossed arms—they were so in sync that they were like a pair of sisters.
“Haven’t heard of anything like that in the kingdom,” Diana said. “In fact, some families use dragons on their crests.”
“Same goes for the empire,” Anne agreed. “I don’t think any of my mothers would be bothered by it.”
The emperor had quite a few empresses, but it seemed like none of them would be upset by this. And the kingdom apparently didn’t have much issue with the motif either.
“How about everyone else?” I asked.
“Dwarven culture has no problem with dragons as a symbol,” Rike said, the first to respond.
Dwarves usually made their homes near mountains and would use the abundant ore—the blessings of the mountains—to do their work. If they viewed the Dragon of the Land as the root of nature, they’d probably be grateful toward it, and they wouldn’t worry about using it as a design. They certainly wouldn’t view it as a source of evil.
“No issues with the beastfolk either,” Samya added.
“Nor with the elves,” Lidy chimed in.
Both were residents of the forest and must’ve shared some similarities with the dwarves. Guess dragons aren’t that much of an issue for folks living with nature.
“I see...” I mused.
Since I can probably greenlight the dragon idea, I’m good to go. And if I’m ever asked to handle a Dragon Killer weapon, I’ll know what to do.
“All right,” I said. “I might need to tweak the design a bit, but I’ll test the motif out tomorrow. Let’s see if dragons will fit the bill for this blade.”
Everyone else nodded back. Krul could sense when the air was turning more optimistic, and she cried out happily, sharing my joy. I gently patted her head.
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