Ever since I’d decided on a design, my mind had been filled with ways to depict a dragon. I contemplated throughout the day, morning to night, from the instant I stirred awake until the second I fell asleep. A dragon would look majestic no matter what design I used—I didn’t even have to portray the entire body. Claws, a tail, and even just a head were plenty powerful—I could even just add a scale pattern to make it stand out.
I could do whatever I liked for the motif of this blade, and that was precisely why I struggled to find an answer. The possibilities were endless.
“Hrmmm...” I mumbled.
I continued to stew in my thoughts from breakfast until the beginning of my workday. As for my family...
“You were frowning more than usual, so I kinda didn’t want to call out to you,” Diana said to me. Everyone else nodded along.
Well...worrying about it will get me nowhere.
I’d managed to draw a few sketches last night, and I held them up against the finished blade. The model for my illustrations was, of course, Krul. Her legs and hands (front legs?), her head and tail, and even her scales stood out as beautiful design options for the blade.
Would my cheats activate fully for crafting the handle of the knife? That task technically fell within the realm of “production-related,” so I’m sure my cheats would give me a little boost—after all, they were somewhat flexible. This would allow me to create a lovely design. But unfortunately, my cheats do have a tendency to prioritize practicality above all else. And I don’t really want to have the entire body or head be part of the handle. It feels...
“Cheesy. Like it would belong in a gift shop or something...” I muttered.
“A what?” Samya asked, tilting her head to one side.
I gave a nonchalant wave of my hand. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
When I included the full body or head of the dragon in the design, I thought that it looked a little cringey, sort of like those demon sword key chains that kids on Earth bought. I’d thought this might work with the blade itself, but it turned out that a full head or body design didn’t really match the curved body of the knife.
“How about the tail?” I muttered. “No, that’s not it either. Maybe the claws work best.”
I placed the blade against my illustration. If I just used the tail of a dragon, it resembled a Plug Type Asa〇〇 that I’d seen back on Earth. My family didn’t seem to mind this design, but knowing what I did, I wanted to avoid that.
I then set my illustration of the claws against the knife.
“Yeah,” Diana said, crossing her arms with a nod.
Krul’s mom is giving me the go-ahead. With this hilt design, the blade would resemble a claw protruding from a dragon’s foot (or hand?). This also seemed a bit on the nose, and I’d likely give it a more artistic tweak, but I thought that I was finally headed in the right direction.
Lidy peered at the illustration as she stood next to Diana. “Are you going to color it?”
“Hmm, yeah,” I decided. “I at least want it to have a green tint.”
I noticed Lidy nod eagerly when she heard the word “green.”
I think I’ve still got my dye from last time, and if I run out, I’ll just go and forage more. It’d be a nice change of pace for me. And now, I just need to worry about the recipient.
“Will His Imperial Majesty like this design?” I asked.
“Are you worried that it looks too grandiose or gaudy?” Anne asked.
I nodded. I’d needed to know whether a dragon motif was a taboo of sorts, and now that I knew it wasn’t, I wanted the emperor to be at least indifferent about the design. He didn’t need to love it, but I wanted him to find it acceptable enough to use as decor. This was purely a matter of preference.
“It looks fine to my eyes,” Anne said. “In fact, I think he would like the design.”
Now that I had the approval of the giftee’s daughter, I knew that this knife would be an acceptable product from our forge. I thanked everyone for their help and then got to work on making the hilt and sheath.
Though I’d decided on the overall direction of my design, I tried a few options to see which details I liked best, and I ended up settling on one right before lunch.
“Hmm...”
I quickly prepared lunch (by adding a few more ingredients to what was left from our breakfast) and snuck in bites as I gazed at the paper with my final design.
“Bad manners, Eizo,” Diana pointed out.
In my defense, I didn’t have much time to spare, and I wanted to begin work first thing in the afternoon. I’d even taken the time to prepare lunch. Considering all this, I wanted her to turn a blind eye to my lack of etiquette. I also said “itadakimasu” before I ate.
When I told her as much, all I received in reply was a small sigh. Guess I get a free pass this time, I thought before resuming my mental planning. Instead of using regular wood for the hilt, I decided to use a material that was quite unusual for us—a deer’s antler. We were actually flush with the splendid antlers of tree deer. We caught them quite often for food but used very few of the antlers.
As the name suggested, the antlers resembled the branches and leaves of a tree. The branches—that is, the main part of the antlers—were made entirely of bone, and the “leaves” of these antlers were made of skin and fur, which further mimicked foliage. The “leaves” also changed based on the season, and the fur and skin would slough off at times to resemble bare branches, allowing the deer to camouflage with its surroundings year-round.
Much like normal deer or reindeer, tree deer’s antlers would fall off and grow back just before spring; Samya claimed that it was rather common to see these shed antlers on the ground, buried in branches. These antlers weren’t like the normal ones one might envision with vertical grooves that grew upward. Instead, tree deer antlers had a bumpy, almost scaly surface reminiscent of pine trees—I thought this was perfect for mimicking the skin of a dragon. Though Krul’s scales were rather small and fine, I thought coarser scales would give the hilt more oomph visually, and the texture would keep it from slipping from the wielder’s grip. And so, I was determined to use the antler as a handle.
“Hmm, maybe if I do this...” I muttered.
I tried to use my mind’s eye to visualize how the hilt would turn out. But even with my cheats, I struggled to imagine it. Well, working with a rough idea is better than nothing at all.
Having a mental image of the final product allowed for a smoother transition into actually making the item. Plus—while this was my little secret—I quite liked getting lost in my thoughts, imagining potential designs, and watching my visions become a reality. I like it so much that I don’t even mind getting scolded for my bad manners.
I ignored the sighs around me, and once I finished lunch, I returned to my forge. I grabbed a splendid pair of antlers and used my knife to carve out the desired shape.
The antlers didn’t feel like wood or pure bone (a feeling I’d often experienced when cooking with boar meat or venison). My cheats guided me on how to carve, allowing me to form whatever shape I desired. Once I had the rough shape, I fitted it with the finished orichalcum knife to check my progress. The antlers didn’t align with the blade perfectly, not yet, but I knew that if I stayed the course, it was only a matter of time before things clicked into place. My apprehensions turned into convictions as I continued my work.
It’s kinda funny that the dragon claw will be made from a pair of deer antlers.
Silly thoughts flashed across my mind as I envisioned the completed handle and sheath, and all the while, my hands skillfully worked toward my goal. I wanted to keep the natural surface of the antlers as much as possible, and finally, after much carving, I formed a shape that fit naturally in my hand. I once again slotted the antler hilt onto the orichalcum blade. Everything fit together quite nicely. The antler hilt was still in two parts—front and back, not yet glued together. But still, I could see what I’d been trying so hard to visualize: a blade in the shape of a massive dragon talon.
“Looks decent, but yeah, this isn’t practical,” I said.
Sure, a person could wield it if they wished, but it just wouldn’t be as useful. If asked which blade was more suitable for combat between the orichalcum knife and a steel elite model, I’d choose the elite, no contest.
Just to be sure, I called Helen over and handed her the orichalcum knife. The hilt was only temporarily fastened to the blade with a rivet and some strips of leather.
“You think you can wield this?” I asked.
Helen casually swung the knife around, and there was a whoosh as she sliced through the air. That strike alone felt like enough to bring forth a whirlwind. Uh... Can this knife actually be wielded like a normal knife? Because it sure looks like it.
But Helen soon spoke to the contrary.
“Nah, this is kinda tricky to use,” she said. “I could use it if I needed to, though.”
She shrugged, and I breathed a sigh of relief. If she struggled to use this knife, I knew that a normal person wouldn’t be able to wield it at all—it likely wasn’t useful for actual combat.
“If I came at you with an elite model knife and you had to fight back with the orichalcum one, who do you think would win?” I asked.
“Probably you,” Helen replied. “I might be able to eke out, say, two wins out of ten clashes... Maaaybe three, but that’s really pushing it.”