“W-Wait! Please!” I called, raising my voice despite being in the middle of a conversation.
I was speaking with the successor to the house of Margrave Eimoor. He’d taken some time out of his busy day to meet with me, and interrupting his sentence was beyond insolent—truly, there was no better word to describe my behavior. Had these been more historical times, I might’ve been thrown in prison for my audacity, but the soon-to-be Margrave Eimoor didn’t seem at all annoyed. He just smiled at me.
“I don’t blame you for your reaction,” he said, staring into the distance. “When I first laid eyes upon the documents of my house, I could hardly believe it either.” He took a sip of his tea. “Even in the long history of dwarves, there are very few who could make it, and yet, it was recorded that this item was indeed made—and by a human blacksmith, no less.”
He let out a small sigh as I regained my composure.
“Just to be sure,” I started gingerly, “this person forged orichalcum, correct?”
“Indeed,” he replied with a firm nod. “Are you aware of Divine Dragon’s Claw, perchance?”
“Ah, yes. I think it’s stored in the empire’s museum.”
I’d been informed of the item when I’d been graciously allowed an audience with the empire’s princess—or more precisely, the great-aunt of the current emperor. And so, I’d visited the museum to lay eyes upon it. Divine Dragon’s Claw was a knife that sported a unique shape. I recalled being awed by the beauty and seeing how it truly did resemble the claw of a dragon.
“That was a gift, wasn’t it?” I asked. “Provided by the kingdom to the empire as a sign of friendship and goodwill.”
While the exhibit didn’t give any details about the forging of the knife, I remembered seeing the date when this present was received. Wait, a gift from the kingdom to the empire? That was when the kingdom and the empire became really close, though it probably also implies military cooperation and a nonaggression pact. It fits the time frame when the imperial princess was supposedly residing within the kingdom. If I piece all my information together... Back then, there was only one convenient place to hide if one wanted to conceal themselves within the kingdom.
“Then the one who made Divine Dragon’s Claw is...” I started.
“Quite. It was forged by none other than Eizo, and the knife is made of orichalcum,” Margrave Eimoor replied. “Judging by your reaction, I presume that this fact isn’t listed within the empire’s documents.”
The future margrave nodded once more. I sat, gobsmacked by the truth, and slowly tried to come to terms with it.
“The lord of my household was still a count then,” he went on. “And in his later years, he wrote down many secrets. He hid these secrets not only within our manor, but in various places around the world.”
“Hidden?” I asked. “Why would he do that?”
The descendant of Count Eimoor shrugged as he shook his head. His mannerisms were a touch less refined than those of his predecessors.
“I remember finding a fragment of Marius Eimoor’s story within my manor, and I asked my grandfather about it,” he said. “But he just languidly shook his head and replied, ‘He always liked to play tricks, no matter how old he got.’ I honestly don’t know any other details.”
“I see...” It seemed the count was a mischievous and playful man. And judging by this future margrave’s mannerisms, I see that the family trait is alive and well, handed down through the generations. But of course, I’m better off keeping quiet about that. “In any case, you’re saying that Eizo made that knife,” I said. “Was it stated in your ancestor’s writing that the knife was made of orichalcum?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “It’s not clearly stated, but are you aware of Eizo’s sobriquet? A man who possesses the ‘Hands of God,’ I believe.”
I nodded. “I’m aware, of course.”
He had other nicknames, including “The Bearer of the Hero” and the “Hammer of Inhibition.” “Hands of God” was one of his many names.
“The document read, ‘The man with the Hands of God forges the claw of a dragon using metal bestowed by God.’ The entire sentence sounds oddly theatrical and exaggerated for dramatic effect, but most of these details seem to be about Eizo,” the future margrave explained.
“The ‘bestowed by God’ bit seems awfully similar to the other name that orichalcum goes by,” I pointed out.
“Precisely. We know Divine Dragon’s Claw to be one of Eizo’s works. But the metal it’s made of is unclear. Would a symbol forged of normal steel be used as a sign of friendship between nations, only to be held forever in the empire’s possession? I highly doubt it. Surely, mithril would be used, at the very least. It’s a luxury metal that’s fairly easy to obtain if you have the means to purchase it.”
“You’re right...”
While a commoner couldn’t easily get their hands on mithril, a fairly affluent person was certainly capable of doing so. And since the knife was forged as a symbol between nations, those commissioning it surely had the power and capital necessary to procure mithril. On top of that, since mithril wasn’t all that rare, it was easy to find on the market, and there was no need to conceal buying it.
“Still...I suspect he’s talking about orichalcum,” Margrave Eimoor said.
I nodded firmly in agreement. But then, I tilted my head to one side, befuddled. “How in the world was he able to forge orichalcum?” I wondered. “Judging by the accounts of those who have been successful in that endeavor, I believe it’s a fairly unique process...”
The future margrave eagerly answered, “The process actually wasn’t documented! Not one bit! Even with other metals Eizo worked with, I’ve only read that they were forged—the details of the actual metalwork are unwritten.”
“It seems much of his work process has been...lost to time. Would you happen to know why?”
“Unfortunately, not a clue. My ancestor might not have been informed of the intricacies of forging either.”
“Makes sense.”
Miss Rike, his apprentice, had claimed that he wasn’t a skilled teacher—Eizo would always ask her to just watch and observe. It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t explained his process to the count, who’d been a complete amateur at smithing.
“But there’s one other thing I know for sure from the documents that I’ve read,” the future margrave said with a grin.
Naturally, I’d never met the former Count Eimoor, but I wondered if this successor to Margrave Eimoor was just like him. I could feel myself raising a bemused eyebrow.
“My ancestor was deeply indebted to Eizo, and in return, Count Eimoor hid or covered up many things pertaining to him,” he revealed.
“Wh-What?! Please tell me more!” I cried.
I once again raised my voice, knowing that an outsider would surely find my attitude rude. The future margrave flashed a mischievous grin—likely a trait he’d inherited from his ancestors—and I gripped my pen once more, dying to hear his story.