She spoke without hesitation. While I didn’t have a solid grasp of my own combat skills, I’d been told that I was pretty strong. Still, I didn’t stand a chance (or so I believed) against the Lightning Strike. With Helen’s assessment as acknowledgment, I could safely say that the orichalcum blade trod the fine line of usefulness, just like I’d intended. Indeed, my aim had been to make a blade that could practically only be used for decor—using it for anything else would bring higher risks.
If, for whatever reason, this blade was stolen from the imperial palace (like if a thief took it from the empire many, many years in the future), it wouldn’t be effective as a combat weapon. It was better if the blade just wasn’t worth the trouble of stealing it—that was good enough for me. Sure, this would only last until the hilt was changed one day (which would need to happen eventually), but if it resulted in one less victim of the orichalcum blade until then, that was a win in my book. After all, there was a chance that the blade might one day be pointed at my friends or even at their descendants.
But the blade itself is extremely precious. I bet it’ll be safely and securely stored for the foreseeable future. I think I’m worrying a bit too much...but it’s fine. I’d already made quite a few custom models, and I was prepared for them to hurt others in battle, but it seemed I was still a touch naive and set in my ways.
I thanked Helen for her opinion and slapped my cheeks. All right, I won’t dwell on the future. I’ll do my best to create the most exquisite blade I can. I rolled up my sleeves, which had managed to slide down a bit, and got to work.
The hilt, which I’d slowly carved to match the blade, was difficult to hold, but it looked dignified and solemn—like it had once been part of an actual dragon.
“Shape looks good,” I said, raising it into the air. “All that’s left is the color.”
“May I please take a look?” Rike asked.
“Of course.”
I handed Rike the hilt, which resembled a disembodied dragon’s claw, and she carefully scrutinized it. Her observant eyes refused to miss even a single detail.
“You see...” Rike said, her eyes narrowing. She placed the blade under the light of the setting sun, which shone into the forge. “Normally, work for the different parts of the blade would be divvied among artisans. A hilt artisan would make the hilt, for example. And that’s how it is for dwarves too.” She moved her eyes away from the sunset. “For knives and shortswords, a smith could at least wrap some leather around the hilt before handing it off to the next person. But a blade and handle of this quality...” Her eyes wandered to me. “Boss, when I compare myself to you, I realize that I’m lacking in so many ways—so many that I can’t sum everything up in one sentence.”
Her eyes were filled with a tinge of sorrow, but I pretended not to notice—I just shrugged.
“All I can say is this: Before I knew it, I was able to make it all,” I explained.
I wasn’t lying either. It wasn’t like I went through strict training to gain my cheats. As the word “cheat” implied, I wasn’t playing fair.
Rike nodded. “I’ve been observing how you work for a while now, Boss. At first, your craftsmanship seems consistent, but in truth, it feels like you’re working solely on instinct.”
“You can tell?” I asked.
“Well, I’m just beginning to see that. Until recently, I had no clue just how you were able to make all these high-quality items.”
She gave a forced smile. I wasn’t able to do much for her, but I was genuinely happy to see that my apprentice could sense her own growth.
“Oh? What’s going on here?” Samya asked, glancing at Rike and me. She’d already finished cleaning up.
“We were talking about how much Rike has grown and improved,” I said.
“Oh yeah! For sure!” Samya nodded.
“What?” Rike gasped with surprise.
“Hey, I’ve been watching you this entire time. You’re tons better compared to when you first came here. Leaps and bounds.”
The fact that Samya can tell implies that she’s also improved quite a bit with her own smithing, but I probably shouldn’t say anything about that. I just nodded and kept mum.
“Eh heh heh... Man, this is a bit embarrassing!” Rike chuckled.
“Yeah, the average blacksmith can’t even touch your skills,” I added. “You should hold your head up high and be proud.”
Dwarves were naturally more adept at smithing than other races. Thus, a blacksmith having a dwarf as their apprentice was an honor in and of itself. This dwarven custom wasn’t lost on me.
“I’m not saying you could return to your home forge whenever you want, but...” I trailed off.
“But you just did, Boss,” Rike pointed out.
Once a dwarf was skilled enough, they returned to their family’s forge with their knowledge. After they relayed to their family all that they’d learned, the dwarf was apparently free to do as they pleased. They could stay with their family forge, open up their own, or return to where they’d apprenticed. I knew that Rike was now skilled enough to take whatever course she wished.
“Sorry...” I chuckled at Rike’s strained smile.
But when the time comes for her to leave, I’ll feel indescribably lonely.
“Well, it’s not time yet, is it?” Samya asked, smacking Rike’s shoulder.
“Gah! Ouch!” Rike yelped, unable to suppress a real smile. “But...yeah. You’re right.”
⌗⌗⌗
The next day, I decided to add some color to the finished hilt. I currently had brown and green dye with me, along with a splash of red. But when I’d colored my illustration, I’d received less than stellar feedback.