And that only made Sian feel worse. It made being an Enola feel like a curse. But he couldn’t leave the position now, and he would go on to be praised for his teaching as an Enola, which only pushed the guilt he felt to a level that was unbearable.
No one would acknowledge his sin, meaning he couldn’t absolve himself of the guilt that continued to fester within him. And so to lighten this pain, Sian began questioning the nature of this country.
Why had he killed that boy? Sian finally remembered that it was because somewhere, deep down, he’d felt in the moment that the boy was better off dead. Until then, the pain in his heart had barred him from remembering this. But once he clearly remembered what he felt in that fateful moment, the swirl of deep-seated doubts in Sian’s heart began to drag him under.
What is a king? What is this country, really? What is an Enola? Why was he unable to use his sword as he desired? Why had he killed that boy?
At the end of all these questions was the existence of God. Who was this God, said to rule and manage all the races since time immemorial?
At the end of great suffering, Sian arrived at this doubt, but his heart was in too much pain to act on it. He had lost his strength of will, become pessimistic, and refused to see others. He’d taught many students, but with the indifference, ennui, and fatigue of one performing their duties out of a sense of obligation. There was nothing he could do in this state.
Sian longed for power, for a symbol of salvation he could devote all his heart and efforts to.
And the voice of steel had called out to him.
After all his incredible pain, a sword appeared before Sian. Perhaps it was Sian who had drawn forth the sword, or that both were drawn to each other. The shape of the future contained within that blade became a reality.
“What is this sword…?” Sian had asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the weapon.
He was in the streets of Lower East Town, having slipped away from a group of acquaintances to wander around, when he’d suddenly heard a strange timbre. His legs had carried him to it unconsciously, and when he stopped, he was a good distance away from the castle.
It was a place where a group of swordsmiths were selling their sword instruments together. The man working the counter told Sian the sword wasn’t for sale—but Sian didn’t care. He was sure this sword was calling out to him. The steel, containing a firm will, resonated with Sian. There wasn’t a spell carved into the blade yet, but just then, as if reacting to Sian’s gaze, something began appearing on it.
It felt like he was moments away from figuring something out.
The shopkeeper called for someone in alarm, and another person appeared from the back of the store. Sian remained rooted in place, his eyes not budging from the sword. The person who emerged from the back approached Sian, their countenance reflecting in the polished lapis lazuli surface of the blade. Looking back at Sian in that blade was an androgynous-looking Mermaid. And then he saw it. A spell appeared on the surface of the blade, overlapping the Mermaid’s visage.
Responding to Sian’s gaze, it became visible to everyone else.
“Can you read it?” the Mermaid behind him asked.
Sian nodded.
ENOLA
He read aloud the spell for the Instructor.
Sian turned around, stunned. The Mermaid smiled at him softly with tears in their eyes.
“I have been waiting for you. For such a long, long time.”
The tears ran down their cheeks. Sian was confused, unsure, and—above all else—felt his heart tremble. He was flooded with a sense of premonition. The Mermaid stepped forward, picked up the sword, and held it out for Sian to take.
“It is yours…”
Feeling drawn to it, Sian gripped the weapon—and in that moment, his premonition became conviction. He could tell this would be his salvation. He could break his curse as Enola by cutting away his pride as an instructor. This sword spoke to the desire for such salvation.
“Did you make this sword?” he asked.
The Mermaid met Sian’s eyes and nodded. A thousand questions suddenly burned in his mind. Why had this Mermaid just said they were waiting for him? What was this sword? Was it even possible for a spell to simply appear out of nowhere? But oddly enough, Sian couldn’t put any of those thoughts into words.
“The answer is in your hands,” the Mermaid said suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. “Even if I were to put the answer into words, it would be incomplete.”
The Mermaid’s tears were gone, and a note of concern echoed in their voice. They were trying to explain something Sian couldn’t possibly understand.
“This is a wonderful sword,” Sian said. This much was certainly clear. “If you’re this skilled…I would love to have you in the castle.”
Since Sian was the Prince Minor, having his own personal swordsmith live in the castle was something he could very easily arrange. The question was whether this Mermaid would agree to it. But oddly enough, Sian was confident they would. The real issue was whether Sian had been able to put it into words.
After a long moment, the Mermaid nodded.
“There, I shall fashion steel into the shape of the future.”
With those mysterious, indecipherable words, the Mermaid followed Sian to the castle.
One cog after another began to spin. Yet this wasn’t something intentionally set in motion by any one person in particular. Even the Mermaid didn’t know what kind of future the shape of the sword they fashioned would bring forth until it happened.
The news of the mysterious swordsmith Sian had brought in shook the castle. The Mermaid’s presence lifted Sian’s spirits after he’d been gloomy for so long, so his pupils and friends greeted them with open arms.
But above all else, the Mermaid proved to be talented in their craft. They fashioned swords that felt like they were made for the hands of Solists who had waited their entire life to meet that particular sword. Word of that talent spread throughout the castle, and King Rawhide personally gave them the great honor of fashioning a weapon of steel cut from the God Tree for his own personal use.