Chapter 8: The Elven Sword

“I understand your request,” I said severely.

I gazed at the pieces of the broken sword. The blade was wide, only slightly narrower than that of a longsword, but it wasn’t very thick. Given the sorry state of this sword, I had difficulty visualizing what it had originally looked like.

“How much of a repair job are you looking for? What condition would you like the sword to be in once I’ve finished?”

Did she want the sword to look brand-new? Or was she content with the sword being in one piece again? The latter I could finish as early as tomorrow, but a complete restoration would take both time and effort. I had no intention of botching the job like that one infamous amateur on Earth who’d “restored” (ruined) a fresco.

“It would be ideal if you could return it to its original condition,” said the elf in a voice that was as clear and musical as the chime of a bell. “However, should that prove impossible, your best efforts would suffice.”

She wanted me to bring my A game. I hadn’t been a blacksmith for long, but I was fired up by those words, as any career craftsman would be.

“There’s one thing I want to confirm. Did you come here by yourself?” I asked.

“Yes, I came alone.”

I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure she was telling the truth since I couldn’t verify with Samya, but she didn’t look like she was lying, and I also didn’t sense anyone else in the area. Besides, that condition had been designed for clients who wanted new weapons anyway.

I pondered whether I wanted to accept the commission. While I was still thinking, she spoke up again with a slight urgency in her voice. “To be honest, I was using magic to hide my presence on the way here. Will that disqualify me?”

It seemed like she’d misunderstood my silence to mean that I was still questioning the validity of her assertion that she “came alone.”

There’s magic in this world that can hide one’s presence, huh?

“That won’t be a problem,” I said with a smile. “The condition was for you to come alone, regardless of the methods you chose to use.”

I hadn’t intended the condition to be set in stone anyway.

Hearing my reply, she looked relieved.

“I’ll take on your commission,” I stated.

Suddenly, she slammed her hands down on the table and leaped to her feet. “Really?!” The word seemed to burst out of her, but she immediately recovered her poise and followed up with a quiet, “I-I apologize.” It seemed like her demeanor had done a complete one-eighty. She sat back down gently.

Her outburst had only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to indicate her true colors. If she was truly as meek as she’d been acting, she wouldn’t have thought to come all the way out here.

“Yes, I’m serious. Is there a time frame you have in mind?”

“The sooner the better, of course, but at the latest, I’d like to request that you finish the restoration within two weeks.”

“I understand.”

Two weeks, eh? That’s a generous amount of time for me to work with.

“I’m sorry to ask,” she said hesitantly, “but I’d also like to check in daily on the progress of the repairs.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Master Eizo, but given the nature of the request, I have to take certain precautions.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Not only was the sword forged from mithril, but it was an old sword forged from mithril. It was obvious at a glance that the blade had a long history. It would thus be unacceptable for me to steal the sword and flee. That much was as clear as the light from flames in the furnace.

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” I said, “but won’t it be hard for you to travel here every day?”

“Thank you for your concern. I was actually hoping to stay here, if you would only permit me to borrow a small space on your land.”

She had replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sleep in the corner of someone’s backyard. However, I couldn’t let a woman sleep outdoors so close to the forest. Sure, we were safe from bandits, but wolves and bears still posed a threat.

“Wild beasts roam this area, miss,” I pointed out.

She didn’t seem worried. “This clearing is flush with magical energy. I very much doubt that any animals would dare to come close.”

“Excuse me?”

That’s certainly news to me. Come to think of it, we don’t have any magical experts in this family.

“The Black Forest is filled with more magic than most other regions, but the energy is particularly strong around here. That’s why there are no trees growing in this clearing, and most beasts would know to keep their distance,” she explained. “I had assumed that you settled here because of its magical strength. I was impressed by your foresight...”

“First I’ve heard of it...” I hadn’t exactly picked out the cabin either.

Now that she’d pointed it out, it was true that there were never any wolves near the cabin. I’d never even seen a squirrel frolicking around our lumber supply.

“Between the location of your shop and the quality of that mithril rapier you forged, I was positive that you were weaving magic into your blades. Don’t tell me...” She trailed off.

“I can make claims to nothing more than the instincts of a craftsman.” It wasn’t as if I could tell her about my cheats. I mostly forged my blades on instinct, and I certainly didn’t calculate or plan out every strike of my hammer.

The elf’s shoulders slumped in dismay.

Sorry to burst your bubble.

So far, I’d learned two valuable pieces of information from our conversation.

One. She’d come here after seeing the rapier. Given the time frame, she likely saw it somewhere two or three days after I’d delivered it. She must’ve then visited Camilo in his store and learned our forge’s location.

Two. I now had a possible answer to the mystery of why I struggled to forge a custom sword back in the capital—it was because of the magic in this clearing. Considering what she’d just told me, weapons with magic woven into their structures were stronger. Since the area around the forge was rich with magic, the swords I forged here were naturally imbued with power. My hypothesis was that there hadn’t been enough magic in the capital to produce the same effect, but when I’d melted down my knife, the magic held within the knife had made up for the deficit.

It was all starting to make sense.

“Well, let’s leave the discussions of magic for another time. I couldn’t in good conscience leave a woman to sleep outdoors, no matter what you say. Fortunately, we have a guest room. It’s sparse, just a spare room, but I hope you’ll agree to stay with us for the time being.”

I wasn’t expecting any other guests in the meantime, especially since Helen had told us that she was being dispatched far away.

The elf seemed to have recovered slightly from her disappointment. “Are you positive?” she asked. “Won’t your three wives mind?”

I was taken aback by her words, and my brain briefly short-circuited from the shock. “There are certainly three women living here, but they are not my wives,” I finally said. “You are free to stay.”

Camilo must be the one spreading these rumors. I’m gonna have a word with him next time.

She looked like she didn’t know whether to believe me or not, but she bowed politely nonetheless. “Then, I’ll accept your kind offer. Thank you for your hospitality.”

The clacking of the clappers in the workshop alerted me of Samya and Diana’s return. I looked expectantly at the door that connected the forge with the living space.

How do I explain all of this to the two of them?

As I’d expected, Samya and Diana came through the door before long.

“We’re home,” said Diana as they entered. She quickly noticed the elf. “Do we have a guest?”

“Yes. This is...” I trailed off, realizing that I hadn’t yet asked her name.

The elf rose to her feet and went sweeping into an elegant bow. “My name is Lidy.”

“She’s a client,” I clarified. “She came to request a repair for her sword.”

“My name is Diana. I am currently residing here at Forge Eizo. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Diana was still dressed in her hunting attire, but she’d switched seamlessly into aristocrat mode. I supposed it was second nature to her since she’d grown up as the daughter of a count.

She didn’t give her family name. I know she’s being cautious, but it’s plain as day from her intro that she belongs to the upper class.

“I’m, uh... My name is Samya.” On the other hand, Samya’s delivery was awkward and stiff. It was obvious that she wasn’t used to this level of formality.

It’s just a matter of memorizing a few phrases! Perhaps Diana can teach her...

“I am an apprentice of Forge Eizo. My name is Rike. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rike said smoothly and bowed. Her introduction felt the most natural of the three, though the contrast between her courteous manners and her childlike appearance was disorientating.

With family introductions out of the way, I resumed the discussion. “Rike has already heard the details, but due to the value of the sword in question, Miss Lidy will be staying with us while we restore it.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my selfish request,” Lidy said.

“You mean an elf will be living here with us?!” Diana exclaimed, and her face lit up with excitement. I’d never asked how old Diana was, but her curious nature put even Samya’s to shame.

“She’ll be observing our work,” I corrected her. “It’s not quite the same as living together.”

“But, she’ll be spending her time here, right?”

“Well...yes.”

“Then it’s just semantics! We’ll be housemates,” Diana insisted.

“You could put it that way,” I conceded. She was so happy that I couldn’t bear to rain on her parade. “In any case, Diana and Rike, will you prepare the guest room while I make dinner?”

“Of course,” said Diana.

“All right,” Rike replied, nodding.

They went back to the living area together.

I turned to Samya. “So, how did the hunting go? What did you catch?”

“Foliage birds,” she said. “Five of them.” She held up the catch of the day. The birds were named after their feathers, which were the same color and shape as leaves, and were about the size of crows in Japan.

Samya and Diana probably chose smaller prey today because we already had enough meat in storage. There was one bird for each of us, including our guest. Just the right amount for dinner. It had worked out so perfectly, almost like they’d planned it.

“Let’s get these plucked quickly, Samya,” I said.

“Will do.”

We both made to exit the workshop but were stopped by a quiet “Excuse me.” The delicate and musical voice belonged to Lidy, of course. “May I assist as well?” she asked.

I appreciated her offer, but she was a guest. As I was about to refuse, she continued speaking. “I have dressed birds before in my village. If you’ll permit me, I’d like to help.”

I’d assumed that she was a vegetarian and, this whole time, I had actually been wondering what to prepare for her. However, it looked like the elves in this world ate meat. That was lucky for me and for her. If she’d been vegetarian, all we really had to offer were dried root vegetables; it was difficult to find fresh ones in the forest. We could gather fruits in the woods nearby, but there weren’t enough for a woman—or anyone really—to eat their fill.

Next time we visit Camilo, I’ll ask him for an extra-large supply of vegetables.

“We would be grateful for the help,” I replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” For the first time since she’d arrived, Lidy smiled.

And so, the three of us set off to deplume the foliage birds together. I boiled a large pot of water, into which we took turns dipping the birds before plucking out the feathers. It took a while to remove them all. When we finished, we butchered the birds for their meat.

By then, Rike and Diana had finished preparing the guest room, so I had Lidy store her baggage in the room. The other three women busied themselves with the maintenance of their tools and weapons, and I cooked dinner.

Since we were entertaining a new guest, I wanted to serve up a lavish meal befitting the occasion. I settled on chicken sauté finished with a wine sauce. I brought out the wine as well, and brandy for Rike. We all toasted together with both an “itadakimasu” and a “cheers!”

Lidy looked stiff at first like she felt out of place. However, we explained that it was our custom to relax over dinner (and breakfast and lunch) and talk about our days. Lidy slowly began to warm up to the conversation and even contributed a few lines herself.

She was going to be staying with us for as long as two weeks, so I hoped she’d grow to enjoy our lifestyle.

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, after I returned with fresh water from the lake, the five of us washed up together. The washing basin felt too small with all of us sharing it. Fortunately, Lidy had a smaller build than Helen, so it didn’t feel as crowded as when Helen had stayed with us.

We ate breakfast together, sharing our usual menu: a soup with root vegetables and salt-cured pork served with flatbread. I was relieved to see that Lidy didn’t have any objections to the food. The number one source of stress after moving to a different environment, which was tough enough to begin with, was a new diet that didn’t suit one’s tastes. At least, in my personal opinion.

After breakfast, we discussed our plans for the day. Mine was obvious, and as was Rike’s, since she’d be observing me as part of her training. I asked what Samya and Diana were planning to do, and both of them wanted to watch the restoration work as well. I didn’t have any reason to turn them down, so with Lidy’s permission, we decided that everyone would be accompanying me in the forge today.

I’m happy if they’re happy.

Moving to the workshop, I ushered my audience along.

In the workshop, we gathered around the pieces of the sword. Step one was putting the jigsaw puzzle together. The broad-of-width but slim-of-thickness sword was broken into eight pieces of different sizes and shapes. First, we had to sort out the sword’s shape, a problem that had nothing to do with blacksmithing ability or lack thereof. All five of us, including Lidy, collaborated to put the puzzle together. It was rowdy with everyone helping and felt more like play than work.

Restoring a mithril sword was more straightforward than restoring a steel sword. Reheating steel would undo the strengthening effect of the quenching step, which meant that I’d have to re-quench the sword again once I welded the pieces together. Otherwise, the resulting sword wouldn’t be as durable or strong. Those extra steps would’ve been a hassle, but luckily, I didn’t have to worry about any of that with mithril.

However, every material came with its own set of pros and cons. The tradeoff to using mithril was that the welding itself would take more time and effort.

Hmm, come to think of it, quenching and tempering steel are made easy by my cheats, so as long as I have them, I’d figure out how to re-treat steel one way or another. In that case, mithril may be the more difficult metal to work with after all.

My plan was to start by welding the hilt and the base of the blade together. I fired up the furnace with a spark of magic.

“You practice magic, don’t you, Master Eizo?” Lidy asked. “I noticed you lit the kitchen stove with magic yesterday as well.”

I hadn’t even been thinking about it. Using small bits of magic was a part of my daily life.

“I suppose you could say that,” I responded. “However, igniting a fire and raising a light breeze are about the limits of my abilities.”

“Even that level of magic usually requires a fair amount of training. How is it that you know so little about magic despite having trained in it?” Lidy asked this with a crooked smile and a raised brow. Her sardonic smile was more than a little intimidating.

She doesn’t believe that my knowledge of magic is basically zero, does she?

My magical abilities—my very limited magical abilities—were gifts rather than the result of hard work and practice. Rike and Diana couldn’t use magic at all, to say nothing of Samya.

If I were pressed, I’d say that, out of the three of them, Diana would probably know the most about magic. However, as the young lady of a comital family, she hadn’t needed to know much about it. Unless she had wanted to specialize in magic, there’d been no reason for her to learn.

Wait...was that true?

“Diana, you said you aren’t familiar with magic, right?” I asked pointedly.

She averted her gaze and stammered out, “M-My studies weren’t focused on magic.”

That’s the face of a guilty person. I bet she skipped all her classes.

Magic was a useful skill to have but not a necessity for day-to-day life. Our favorite tomboy here must’ve ditched all her magical studies in favor of learning swordsmanship.

“Don’t worry. I’m not upset,” I reassured her.

“I-I wasn’t worried.” Even so, Diana looked like a weight had just been lifted off her shoulders.

With a youngest daughter like Diana, the Eimoor household must’ve been a lively one.

“Does that satisfy you?” I asked Lidy. “No one here is familiar with magic. I must admit, our ignorance is a source of embarrassment.”

“I see,” Lidy responded simply, before sinking into thought.

The flames were burning bright and hot in the furnace. Using tongs, I picked up both the hilt of the sword and the base piece of the blade, then slid them into the fire. I fanned the flames with a bit of wind magic.

Lidy watched my movements, the wheels of her mind spinning. If she pried further, I’d tell her that I picked up magic along the way, that it wasn’t anything I put much thought into. There was nothing more to say, so she would have to be satisfied with that.

I heated the mithril until my cheats indicated that the metal was at the ideal temperature for forging. Then, I removed both pieces.

The top of the hilt and the bottom of the blade piece were glowing with heat, which permeated the surrounding metal as well. Rike helped me transfer the two pieces to the anvil, orient them, and bump them right up next to each other. If I were welding steel, I’d have to use borax or another type of flux at the joint, but that wouldn’t be necessary for mithril. What was necessary, on the other hand, was increased precision during both heating and hammering.

I took the hammer and beat the metal where the pieces came together. One strike in and I could already tell—welding the pieces together was going to take more effort than shaping mithril from scratch. I doubted that many blacksmiths had the skill to repair a sword like this one.

After just three strikes, the metal had already cooled below its target temperature range. The two pieces had just begun to seam together. I redistributed the charcoal before transferring the joined pieces back to the firebed, making sure to focus the heat on the weld.

“This is going to be a tough one,” I mumbled to myself without thinking.

Out of nowhere, Lidy asked, “Are the repairs feasible?” I jumped slightly, startled. She had slinked up right next to me while I’d been absorbed in my work. Her face, creased with concern, was practically right next to mine.

My heart pounded as I tried to formulate a response. “Restoring it to its original condition will be difficult, though I believe not impossible. It’ll take me time, but I should be able to finish within the next two weeks.”

“That’s a relief to hear. Thank you.”

“There’s no need for thanks. I’m only doing my job.”

I returned my gaze to the firebed. It wouldn’t be long before the mithril was ready to be removed again.

When the pieces hit the right temperature, I transferred them back to the anvil. I hammered the metal carefully to remove all the gaps between the two pieces while preserving the glimmer of the mithril. I struck the weld three times, and with my cheat-heightened senses, I intuitively knew that the two pieces had come together just a little more.

I wanted to increase my pace, but a single mistake could ruin the restoration. I returned the pieces to the furnace to reheat.

Lidy soon spoke up. “I knew it. You were holding out on me after all, Master Eizo.” She had backed away a few paces. “You are able to see magical essence.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re deliberately choosing where you hit in order to maintain the flow of magic through the metal. Am I right?”

“That’s not exactly how I would describe it...” I said. “I can see what looks like shimmering grains throughout the mithril. I’m simply trying my best not to scatter those grains.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Lidy exclaimed, lunging toward me.

I suddenly found myself staring into her sapphire blue eyes, which were framed by long lashes. She was so close that I could feel her breath on my skin. I froze up in shock.

Lidy suddenly straightened up and took a step back. She coughed politely. “I apologize for startling you. In any case, the grains that you see are the heart of magic. I knew that you could sense magic, even if you didn’t know for yourself.”

“I suppose you’re right then.” I could also see the composition of steel, and it looked completely different from mithril. I chose to keep that fact to myself.

“That’s one mystery solved,” Lidy stated with a grin. She seemed to be in high spirits.

“I’ve also learned something today, so I must thank you as well,” I replied somewhat clumsily.

I removed the sword pieces from the fire and took up the hammer once again.

It was just a little past noon, and I’d finished welding the first piece to the hilt. I checked the joint. The sparkling particles—what Lidy had called magical essence—were uniform in structure, except for a break at the joint itself. I ran my finger along where I knew the seam to be, but the metal was smooth beneath my fingertips. Therefore, the break in the particles wasn’t physical in nature, but magical.

If I didn’t fix this disrupted flow, sooner or later, the blade would cause trouble for its wielder, and I suspected that this wielder practiced a particularly brutal style of swordsmanship. They must’ve pushed this sword to its brink for it to have broken into so many pieces. Even if I restored it, such savage swordplay would cause it to break again before long, and when a weapon failed, it would often cost the wielder their life.

“Miss Lidy, can you take a look at this for me?” I gestured to the seam with my fingers, directing her gaze to where the magic was disrupted.

Lidy concentrated on the metal piece for a long moment, running her eyes along the joint, before she finally murmured, “I see. The flow of the magic is broken here.”

Next, I passed the sword over to Rike. “Does it look like that to you as well?”

Rike took longer than Lidy to examine the sword. “Now that you mention it, I can sense that something is off,” she said hesitantly. “However, the weld itself looks clean to my eyes.” She handed it back to me.

Her intuition is pointing her to the correct path. I can’t wait to see how she grows from here on out.

Samya and Diana were neither magic users nor blacksmiths, so neither of them were confident, but they too could sense something.

Is it because they’ve been helping in the forge? Or is it an effect of the mithril itself?

“Miss Lidy, leaving the sword in this state is out of the question, correct?” I didn’t think I needed to ask, but since it had been broken once, there was a possibility that the sword was destined for no more than ceremonial use. I needed to know if it was going to be used in battle again.

“Yes. If at all possible, I’d like it restored to its original state,” she responded.

“That’s what I thought.”

I crossed my arms and stopped to think. I could certainly heat and hammer the pieces together until they were welded smoothly, but the repairs couldn’t stop there—I also had to figure out how to restore the inherent magical properties of the sword.

Hmmm, the cleanest way to do this might just be the tsumiwakashi technique, something Japanese swordsmiths used to forge katana swords. The bottom of the blade that’s welded to the hilt could be shaped into a base block, and if I arrange the rest of the pieces on top, I can forge weld the mithril into a billet. Then, it would be easier to elongate evenly.

Restoring the sword to its original appearance wasn’t going to be an issue. I had confidence in my skills...and cheats.

The problem was whether or not Lidy would permit me to do so. Essentially, I would be remaking the sword from scratch—only the base materials would be the same. I recalled a famous thought experiment, the Ship of Theseus, and realized that I was in the opposite situation. That experiment questioned whether the identity of an object was fundamentally changed if all its parts were swapped out, while I was wondering whether an object built anew from its original components was still the same object.

Regardless, there was a limit to what could be done by simply welding together broken pieces. In Lidy’s case, the sword had only been broken into eight large pieces, but what if it had been shattered completely? In that case, it would’ve been nearly impossible to restore the sword exactly back to its original state. If I thought about it from that perspective, was there really such a big difference between welding together metal and forging it anew? Restoring the sword’s outer appearance was no problem, but there was a choice to be made here: was it more important to preserve the sword’s function or its theoretical identity?

I explained my thinking to Lidy, making sure to emphasize that, no matter the process, the sword would look the same in the end; I’d be able to restore its appearance perfectly, whichever option she chose.

“To summarize, we have two options: The first is to restore the sword by welding the pieces as I’ve been doing. The second is to forge the sword anew using the mithril. Either way, I can guarantee that the restored sword will look identical to the original.”

Lidy’s brows furrowed as she listened. She stared down at the floor in thought, seeming torn.

I was pretty confident I could reforge the sword in the two-week time span, though I wouldn’t have any freedom with the design as I’d had with the rapier. This sword was also broader than the rapier, so the additional metalwork meant more time spent forging. Also, I could run into unpredictable obstacles, which would slow me down. I hoped Lidy would make a decision as soon as possible. Ideally, right now. Of course, since the decision was irreversible, I knew she couldn’t make it lightly.

The only thing that marked the passage of time was the quiet crackling of the flames in the furnace. The four of us waited in silence for Lidy to make up her mind.

At last, Lidy raised her head. Her expression was serious. “Please reforge it from scratch.”

“You won’t be able to change your mind later, so I have to ask—are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. I wish for the sword to be restored, not only in form but in function.” Lidy was gazing at me, grim-faced but determined.

I shot her a bold and cheerful smile, hoping to set her mind at ease, then asserted, “You can count on me.”

On the sidelines, Rike, Samya, and Diana all expelled relieved sighs.

“Time to start over,” I said, slapping my hands to my face to pump myself up for the challenge ahead. I had to pay back Lidy’s resolve, otherwise Forge Eizo would lose face.

Before diving into the smithing, I first had to make sure that I could reproduce the sword’s appearance later. It was a standard longsword in shape, but I also wanted to record its exact width, length, and thickness. I fetched a log of wood from the storage outside and painstakingly carved it to match the pieced-together sword. This ended up being a model matching (what I thought to be) the sword’s original appearance. As long as I had this model, I wouldn’t forget how the sword looked.

Next, I moved the hilt and blade piece, which I had welded together, back into the furnace and raised the mithril to forging temperature once again. I transferred it back to the anvil and started to hammer the bottom piece of the blade into a longer rectangle. The mithril felt stiff and unyielding, even more so than when I’d forged the rapier. My focus narrowed down to my hammer and the mithril, with my goal being to eliminate any and all gaps in the metal.

I went back and forth between the furnace and the anvil. When the rectangular plate finally took shape, I arranged the other pieces of the sword carefully on top of it. I wrapped straw rope around the mithril pieces and transferred the assortment back into the furnace to heat. One benefit to working with mithril was that I wouldn’t have to deal with oxide film, which was a normal by-product of steelwork.

Once the surface of the mithril had just begun to show signs of melting, I removed the metal from the fire, cleared off the ashen remains of the rope with my hammer, and waited a breath for the metal to cool slightly.

Then, I struck it. The mithril felt no softer than usual, so there was no way I’d finish the welding today...not that I had expected to do so.

Heat, shape, elongate, and fold. Heat, shape, elongate, and fold. I repeated these four steps over and over again. Through my cheats, I would be able to tell when the metal was sufficiently fused, but right now, it simply wasn’t.

I found myself utterly absorbed by my work. Before I knew it, dusk had fallen.

The mithril is resisting me more than I thought it would. This is going to take time.

I took a moment to reflect on the day’s work and informed the others I’d be closing up shop. After all, I still had to prepare dinner.

⌗⌗⌗

The next day, my audience halved. Only Lidy and Rike would be observing me. Samya and Diana went out to gather fruit and herbs because, and I quote, “It’s for our elven guest.” The popularity of the vegetarian stereotype apparently wasn’t exclusive to Earth. We had all seen Lidy eat meat (she’d eaten it last night!), but it was hard to uproot a stereotype when you grew up believing it.

I set up in the forge. The block of mithril had yet to come together and still looked like a vaguely sword-shaped lump. I reheated the metal to forging temperature, removed it from the fire once it was ready, and began to shape it once more. It might’ve been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn that the more I worked on it, the harder the mithril became. However, I could also tell that the pieces were slowly welding together. The sparkling grains—the magical essence—had increased as well.

“Miss Lidy, may I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she said. “What is it?”

“Has the concentration of magic essence in the mithril increased?”

“It has. You’re right. Your skill at imbuing metal with magic is quite impressive, Master Eizo.”

I’ve seen these particles when working with steel too. Looks like there’s a proper explanation for the luster of my custom models.

“The mithril also feels like it’s been hardening by degrees.”

“That’s expected too,” Lidy said and nodded with satisfaction. “I made the right decision in coming here.” She didn’t elaborate further.

She reminds me of some of my previous coworkers... One of those people who assumes everyone around her knows exactly what she’s thinking.

Never mind that. She didn’t refute the idea that the mithril had hardened. Is that a known property of mithril? I don’t remember the mithril responding this way when I was making the rapier though...

I decided to sweep aside my doubts and focus on the simple truth at hand: the more magic I imbued into the mithril, the harder it would grow. I took up the hammer again, striking the mithril as precisely as I could, and freely drew from my cheat abilities to ensure that the welding was a success.

I hadn’t yet internalized the idea that I could weave magic into metal and that I had been doing it unconsciously all along. The impact of my hammer against the mithril seemed to grow more dense and dull with every strike, which meant that the effort increased in proportion as well. It was hard labor.

I repeated the heating and hammering cycle, and the weight of the moment of impact grew heavier and heavier. And then, suddenly, the sensation of the strikes lightened up again.

Did I hit the limit of how much magic the mithril can contain?

I was relieved. The mithril would’ve been nigh on impossible to work if it had continued growing harder past that point. Along with relief, I felt genuine pride and pleasure—I had filled the mithril to the brim with magic. The restoration was far from being complete, but the fact that I could hone the metal to this extent was a win in and of itself.

The forge welding took me until well past noon to finish.

It’s going to be an uphill battle from here on out too.

Rike, Lidy, and I took a late lunch, and then it was back to work for me.

No slacking off now!

Fundamentally, the steps to forging a sword were identical for both steel and mithril: heat the metal in the firebed, then hammer it out to elongate it. The main difference was in the difficulty and effort. I had gotten a taste of it in the beginning, when I’d welded the bottom blade piece to the hilt of the sword. Maintaining the magical flow while keeping an eye on the temperature of the mithril and making sure my strikes were precise... It was exhausting work. I was constantly shuffling between the furnace and the anvil.

“This is going to be leagues more challenging than the rapier,” I grumbled without thinking.

“Even for you, Boss?” Rike asked.

“Yes. I feel as if someone just ordered me to sprint across a tightrope strung across a gorge,” I replied truthfully without holding back.

If working with mithril is already this tough, how am I going to be able to do anything with the appoitakara?

Lidy’s worried expression snapped me out of my thoughts.

Damn. I should know better than to complain in front of a client. That’s a sign that my resolve as a craftsman is lacking.

“Don’t worry, Miss Lidy. It will take time, but I promise to restore the sword to its original condition.” I smiled as brightly as I could despite my internal worries, and her expression eased slightly.

Time to get down to business.

By the end of the day, I was about a third of the way done with hammering the metal out to the right size, which was the first phase of shaping. The mithril wasn’t anywhere close to looking like a sword yet.

This is all I’m going to be doing for the next couple of days, so it’ll be meaningless for Rike to watch me repeat the same steps over and over again. Tomorrow is a city day, but after that, I’ll ask Rike to return to forging swords on her own.

Tomorrow, I resolved to tell Camilo that we’d be skipping a week of delivery. We weren’t short on money, and I didn’t have any urgent work for Camilo, so I didn’t foresee any problems with taking a break from our weekly trips.

Samya and Diana returned from their foraging with a bounty of fruits that looked like blueberries and some herbs that smelled like peppermint. Before dinner, I washed the blueberries and set some aside for dinner; I wanted to make a sauce for the meal, and also have some to eat as dessert. As for the rest of the berries, I put them into a small bottle and filled that bottle up with brandy to steep.

The peppermint-like herbs got washed as well. I nibbled on a piece of a leaf. It had a stronger scent than its equivalent on Earth, but otherwise, it was nearly indistinguishable from the peppermint I knew.

I’ll experiment with making mint tea tomorrow morning.

Over dinner, the other four, including Lidy, complimented the taste of the blueberry sauce I’d made. They, of course, enjoyed the fresh blueberries as well. I decided to pour out a bit of the blueberry liqueur, and everyone was thrilled when I told them. Fruit liqueurs were popular with women, and everyone here except me was a woman. Rike practically flew out of her chair in excitement.

Trust a dwarf to get this excited about drinking. I guess I can overlook her behavior this once.

As we were chatting, I brought up a question that’d been on my mind. “Miss Lidy, I’ve been meaning to ask... I always thought that elves ate only vegetables and fruit. Are elves actually omnivorous?”

“Yes. We often hunt the birds and deer in the forest we live in,” Lidy replied.

“I see.”

“However, most of our diet consists of the yams and vegetables we grow in the fields,” she continued. “There is a limit to the amount of meat we can get by hunting.”

“That makes sense.” Birds and deer weren’t all-you-can-hunt animals.

“I was sure that elves only ate fruit,” Samya admitted without reservation. Rike and Diana nodded in agreement as well. The association of elves with vegetarianism was strong in this world, just like back on Earth.

“It’s a common misconception. I’ve been to many establishments that have only served us vegetables,” Lidy said.

“I bet.” I’d almost made that mistake myself.

“It has nothing to do with personal preferences though. I’m thrilled to get a chance to try meat that I don’t usually find in my village! It’d be a shame to restrict myself to vegetables while I’m here.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

Tomorrow, we head into the city. And after that, it’s back to work. Don’t give up, Eizo!

⌗⌗⌗

For breakfast the next day, I steeped some of the mint (or rather, the mint doppelgänger) in hot water and made tea for everyone, along with the usual breakfast assortment. The tea had a faint medicinal aftertaste, but it was otherwise smooth and mellow.

It makes a rather convincing tea substitute. I’ll have to look into this further.

While we ate, I explained the day’s plans to Lidy. “Samya, Rike, Diana, and I are heading into the nearby city to drop off our wares. What are your plans, Miss Lidy? You’re free to join us if you wish.”

I didn’t want to leave her in the cabin by herself. Still, I couldn’t help but think that a party with a four-to-one woman-to-man ratio would be sure to turn heads. Plus, among the four of them, there was a tiger-woman, a dwarf, and an elf. We were bound to attract attention from shadier types with that party composition.

Well, as long as His Lordship wasn’t slacking off at the reins, we weren’t likely to run into any trouble while traveling.

But there was one other problem: the mithril sword.

Will it be secure if we leave it in the cabin? Perhaps Lidy will want to stay behind as a guard.

Nothing else in the cabin was valuable. Robbers could come ransack the house and steal all our money for all I cared. We could always earn more. However, I hoped these hypothetical robbers would do us the courtesy of leaving behind our pots and pans. We wouldn’t be able to eat without them.

“I’ll go with you,” Lidy decided. “The sword will be safe here.”

“All right, then. Pack what you’ll need for the journey.”

Lidy nodded. “I’ll do that.” She rose from the table and disappeared into the guest room.

She agreed to accompany us more easily than I’d expected. I had a feeling there was something else she knew about the cabin’s surroundings that she hadn’t yet shared, although it wasn’t as if I was planning to force that information from her. Honestly, I was happy to take a sit-back-and-wait approach to gathering intel.

I returned to my own room to prepare for the trip.

The luggage cart was Rike’s and my responsibility. We couldn’t in good conscience ask a guest like Lidy to help haul our cargo, but I did ask her about how she wanted to spend the journey. She replied that she had good eyesight, so I offered that she keep watch with Samya and Diana.

As we walked, I considered the modes of transportation—or lack thereof—we had available to us.

I should rethink the idea of this human-powered cart. Our delivery quota is more likely to increase than decrease, and the cart itself sticks out like a sore thumb. A horse-drawn cart would be more convenient...but then we would need to think about fodder. But the benefits of having a horse outweigh the drawbacks. Maybe someday in the future...

The scenery all around us looked like it had been painted by an artist. The green-hued light formed a backdrop for the painting, and it was punctuated periodically by the harsh, black bars that were the trunks of the trees. The canopy rustled overhead as we trekked through the forest, and the gentle breeze cooled my skin.

I wonder if Lidy can hear the voices of the trees, or is that too much to ask, even for an elf?

Diana was fidgety and restless, her gaze darting around our surroundings. I felt a pang of sympathy.

Samya suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, and I snapped to attention. “Did your senses pick up something dangerous?” I asked.

“Not...exactly,” she replied hesitantly. Her ears swiveled and her nose twitched as she smelled the air, trying to pinpoint whatever it was that had piqued her interest. After a while, she relaxed and said, “Aaah, so we meet again.” She pulled something out of her pocket and tossed it into the nearby thicket. I strained my eyes for a better look, and it turned out to be a chunk of dried meat.

A rustling came from the thicket. Then, a small furball came bounding out of the shadows. Our mysterious visitor looked exactly like a brown puppy, but it was, in fact, the wolf pup.

Diana pointed and opened her mouth wide in an excited scream. However, no sound came out of her mouth. She was trying not to scare away the pup.

Artfully done.

I understood perfectly what Diana had been feeling all this time. The wolf pup was undeniably adorable since it looked identical to a puppy. Its tail wagged back and forth as it chomped down on the meat. It’d make a good pet.

My eyes crinkled and a smile tugged at my lips. At some point, Diana had come to stand next to me. She started smacking my shoulder repeatedly. It hurt!

What are you so worked up about? Calm down.

The puppy... The, uh, wolf puppy finished eating and turned toward us, its tail still wagging energetically.

“Arf!”

I was subjected to another round of furious hitting.

Calm down, will you?!

The pup looked like it was about to approach us when a large wolf appeared out of nowhere. That must be its mother. The pup noticed its mom, bounded over, and started frolicking around her feet. The sight warmed my heart to see. The mother wolf nosed at her pup tenderly, and the two of them disappeared back into the thickets.

When they were gone, I said, “So those are the wolves you two met. I gotta say, that was one cute pup.”

“I KNOW, RIGHT?!” Diana screamed excitedly. My ears hurt from the volume.

“I get why you were looking so hard for it. It’s an adorable fluff ball.”

“Right?!”

“But,” I continued, “it would be cruel to separate it from its mother.”

“Oh...I suppose...” Diana deflated slightly.

“Once in a blue, blue moon, there are pups that’ve been abandoned by their mom. Or pups that have lost their way,” Samya said as if she were revealing a secret. “Maybe we can bring one of those home.”

Diana immediately brightened and latched onto the suggestion. “Yeah! If we find a lost pup, we have to rescue it! We can’t let a poor pup starve alone.” Reenergized, she clenched her fists in front of her and nodded firmly.

Rike, Lidy, and I looked at each other and sighed.

Putting the excitement behind us, we continued through the forest. Before long, we had to trade the cover of the trees for the vulnerability of the city road. We were conspicuous on the vast and open terrain, so we doubled down on our guard. Samya put all five senses to use; Diana was scanning our surroundings again with a more acute vigilance than she’d had in the forest; Lidy cast her gaze farther out. I felt more secure knowing that we had an extra pair of eyes.

The Eimoors seemed to have asserted their rule over the region, despite the rockiness of the initial transition of power. Fortunately, we didn’t encounter any difficulties on the road. If anything had happened, it would’ve stressed out Diana, so I was relieved for her sake too that all was well.

Marius’s fellow guard was once again absent from the gate today, but the guard on duty—who was still equipped with a short spear, not a halberd—was no longer a stranger to us.

He knows our faces by now. I’ll try asking him if he knows anything.

“Good morning,” I greeted.

“Hey, good to see you folks,” he replied jovially after taking a serious look at Lidy.

“Pardon the sudden question, but would you happen to know if one of the guards here—the one who was friends with Marius—was transferred?” I asked. “He purchased a sword from me, so I’d like to follow up with him about the sword’s condition if possible.”

“Who? Oh, I know. The guard you’re looking for was pulled by Marius over to the capital.”

“And that’s why we haven’t seen him in some time. I see now,” I said. “Thank you. I’ll try to contact him if I visit the capital.”

“Please do. I’m sure he’d be glad to hear from you.”

We exchanged goodbyes and then continued into the city. If what the guard had said was true, then congratulations were in order. A transfer to the capital could be considered a promotion.

Yet, one part of the conversation was bugging me—the guard had called Marius by his first name. Had that been a sign of disrespect or a sign of affection from bonds forged when Marius had been a guard? It was hard for me to judge.

The city streets were packed with people pushing in every possible direction. As we passed, people stared at us with curiosity, and in particular, at Lidy. Elves were a rare sight in this region, just like the others had told me. The attention we were drawing grated on my nerves.

There was the occasional person who glared at Lidy with open animosity, but no one approached us. It was well known that anyone who made a careless remark toward an elf would soon find themselves in hot water. Who knew if the rumors were backed by truth or not, but the stereotype was likely furthered by the elves’ elusiveness.

As far as my experience went, elves could be surprisingly similar to your average human (though they were anything but, of course). They weren’t immune to bad habits such as taking for granted that everyone knew what they were talking about.

We finally arrived at Camilo’s. Once inside, Lidy relaxed a little. As usual, we dropped the cart off in the storehouse and headed up to the conference room. Camilo took longer than usual to join us.

“Hey. Looks like you’re busy today,” I said when he came in.

“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Here and there.”

Come to think of it, Camilo always met us in person when we came by. I suppose he had the time since he wasn’t needed to manage people and goods on the ground level, but it was still surprising that, up to this point, he’d never had a conflicting meeting. Out of curiosity, I asked him, and he replied, “You folks always stop by around the same time, so I try to keep my schedule open on the days I think you’ll be coming.”

“What if we didn’t come?”

“Then I have other work to do instead. It’s not an issue.”

“That’s good.” I’d been worried that we were disrupting his schedule and was relieved to hear otherwise. “Shall we get down to business then?”

“Sure,” Camilo agreed. “First, I have something for you.”

Camilo looked over at the head clerk and tipped his head. The head clerk approached with a rather large, cloth-wrapped package and laid it on the table. He unwrapped it to reveal a blue-banded metal ore.

“Could this be...?”

“Yeah. This is the appoitakara you requested.”

This is what a legendary metal looks like. Unforgivable and strong. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to test it out anytime soon... The mithril sword’s going to occupy me for a while yet.

“Thank you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to procure,” I said as the head clerk rewrapped the ore and took it away.

“You already compensated me plenty. Don’t worry about it,” Camilo said with a grin. “Other than the appoitakara, I’m assuming you’ll be wanting your usual?”

“Yeah. Only, we didn’t bring as many swords and knives as we normally do. If it’s not enough to cover the cost of the supplies, let me know. I brought money just in case.”

Based on the cost calculations from our previous trades, I was pretty sure that we’d still brought enough merchandise to cover our purchases. However, the price of pepper or something could have risen in the meantime, so I’d wanted to be prepared.

“We still have about half of your last delivery in storage. I’m not worried,” Camilo said. “Even if you end up owing me, you can make it up next time.”

“Thanks. That works,” I said. “One more thing, I’m currently working on a custom model commission. I was thinking of skipping next week’s delivery.”

“Aaah, so you are. Not a problem. I’ll have my workers prepare extra supplies for you then.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll make up the difference next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Our negotiations went smoothly as always. Afterward, I asked Camilo about news from the capital. He told us that Marius was happy and healthy. Diana looked relieved when she heard.

There was only one worrying piece of news. It seemed like some magical beasts had recently been causing trouble near the country’s border, which could, in the near future, result in a troop deployment to quell the disturbance.

The Eimoor family dispute had started with Karel’s lies about magical beast attacks, but unlike then, the news this time seemed reliable.

What a mess...

Camilo would have to stock up if he wanted to get ahead of the situation, and we’d have to be disciplined with our deliveries in order to not let him down. I should prepare just in case we have to scale up production.

I traded a few more minor stories with Camilo before my group headed home. Overall, the journey was relatively uneventful, but before we left the city, Lidy still attracted an uncomfortable amount of stares.

It’s not just that she’s an elf, but she’s a beauty too. Or are good looks part and parcel of being an elf?

I had been worried there were more sinister reasons behind the staring, so I was relieved that we’d returned safely. I didn’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened if Lidy had ended up in trouble.

Back at the cabin, we unloaded the cart and stored away the supplies. I put away the appoitakara with the other metals in the workshop. Lidy lent us a hand too. She carried in the vegetables and the other lighter goods.

On the days we went to the city, we usually used the remaining daylight hours as free time to do whatever we wanted. I was in the middle of Lidy’s commission, but I consulted with her and she agreed that we could take a breather for the rest of the day.

I was eager to work with the appoitakara, but it would be just that: work. Instead, I decided to start on a project of personal significance to me.

In the workshop, I first gathered up some of the leftover wood from crafting scabbards and the like. I was able to find several larger planks, so the scraps would be plenty for my plans.

I used my trusty old friend, my custom knife with its razor-sharp blade, to cut the wood into the right shapes.

Was magic the reason behind the sharp edges of my custom models? That’s food for thought for the next time I forge one.

My goal was to build everything without using nails, which meant I had to spend a lot of time carving out the interlocking joints. Luckily, I was able to finish the woodwork with some light still left in the sky, so I had time to assemble the pieces.

I slotted them together, one after another. When I was done, a miniature (and somewhat crooked) house-like object sat on the worktop before me. It was about the size of my palm. I hadn’t been too clear on what the shape should look like and was just working off my memories. As far as I knew (and as far as the installed data was concerned), the object didn’t have an equivalent in this world. Guess I would just have to be satisfied with it.

After that, I made a simple shelf from another piece of wood, nailed it to the wall, and placed the mini house on the shelf.

There. A simple but serviceable kamidana.

Having grown up in Japan, I felt restless without an altar in the house, and if I couldn’t buy one, then naturally I’d have to make one. If I was following tradition, I should’ve installed the kamidana in the living area, but personally, I thought it suited the workshop well.

I didn’t know if creating a Shinto altar would displease the gods of this world, but I hoped they would be benevolent enough to overlook it, especially considering that the Shinto gods that were usually enshrined in kamidana may not even exist in this world.

I took a small dish and cup from the kitchen, filled them with salt and water respectively, and set them on the shelf. As part of my morning routine from now on, I resolved to change out the salt and water.

I bowed in front of the kamidana, clapped once, and then excused myself to start preparing dinner.

⌗⌗⌗

After returning from the lake the next morning, I replaced the offerings of salt and water in the kamidana. I didn’t want to waste the salt and water by throwing them out, so I used them in the soup for breakfast. The rest of my morning routine was unchanged.

Once we’d eaten, we discussed the plans for the day. The mithril sword restoration would keep me busy. Rike, Samya, and Diana planned to forge entry-level models for the next several days. Our delivery to Camilo wouldn’t be for another two weeks, but ideally, we would also bring double our normal quota. Lidy would be observing me...or supervising? One or the other.

When I entered the workshop, I first went up to the kamidana. Facing it, I moved through the typical prayer ritual. Clap twice, bow twice, pray, and bow one more time. I prayed for my work to go smoothly. Though there might not be a god to receive my prayer, going through the ritual helped ground me for the work ahead. Just the subtle effect it had on my focus made crafting the kamidana worth the effort.

Everyone watched as I performed the ritual. Afterward, Rike asked, “Boss, what are you doing?”

“This is how we pay our respects to the gods back in my old northern home,” I explained.

“What is the significance of that peculiar little house on the shelf?”

“Hmm, how do I explain...? It acts as a simple household shrine.”

“I didn’t know the north had such an interesting custom,” Rike mused.

“It might just be a tradition in my family,” I said. “I can’t promise it actually has an effect either.”

After listening to our exchange, Lidy asked, “Do you have a family name, Master Eizo?”

Aaah, no one’s told her yet.

I decided to answer honestly. “Yes. However, my circumstances are complicated, as you can probably guess, considering our remote location.”

“I see. That’s why you don’t introduce yourself with your family name.”

“Exactly.”

Lidy nodded with an appeased expression. I supposed she was the type that couldn’t relax if there was anything she didn’t understand.

“Boss,” Rike started hesitantly, “is it all right for us to join you in the ritual?”

“Hm? Absolutely—you’re welcome to. It’s not a particularly private ceremony.” In fact, it was more proper for everyone in the family to join in.

“May I perform it as well?” Lidy asked.

“Of course.”

I taught the four of them the ritual. We clapped twice, bowed twice, and clapped once more all together. I joined them even though I had already done it once today.

Two humans, a member of the beastfolk, a dwarf, and an elf... A group of different races from different homelands. When I performed the ritual with my new family and friends, an unnameable emotion swelled up inside me. It was the same warmth I felt when we all said “itadakimasu” together.

Well, that was one more family tradition for the books.

Once we finished our prayer, we officially began work for the day. I lit the firebed and magically raised a light breeze to fan the flames. Once the charcoal was good and hot, I slid the mithril sword into the fire. Then, I lit the other furnace for Rike, Samya, and Diana to use.

I watched as the temperature of the mithril crept upward. Once it reached the peak of its forging temperature range, I pulled it out to shape. The mithril sang under my hammer, producing pure and clear notes as if it were glass and not metal. Musical tones rang throughout the workshop, and the mithril gleamed as I hammered it. I worked quickly, trying to fit in as many strikes as I could before the metal cooled and hardened once more.

Speed wasn’t exactly the goal, and I couldn’t hammer the mithril wherever I pleased. If my strike was so much as a centimeter off, I would end up driving out some of the magic I’d weaved in. So, I balanced speed and precision as I shaped the mithril, a feat that I suspected would’ve been difficult for the vast majority of human smiths.

It was rare for a human smith to understand the technicalities of forging with mithril, but it was even rarer to find one with a knowledge of magic. I couldn’t claim to completely understand magic, but I could at least see the power flowing in the metal. As it stood though, people with even my limited magical senses were likely to have chosen the safety and security of being a warlock rather than the backbreaking profession of a blacksmith.

I wonder how many humans in this world can wield magic? How rare is it exactly?

I ended up drawing this conclusion: there were few, if any, human blacksmiths who could properly forge using mithril.

When mithril was filled to its limit with magical essence, it felt dense and heavy to hammer. The dull sensation was a stark contrast to the bright sound mithril made when struck. Elongating the mithril block was a struggle; the temperature of the metal dropped out of the target zone after only a few blows.

Back and forth, over and over, I slid the sword into the firebed and then transferred it to the anvil once it was hot again. The clear ringing of the mithril filled the room as I worked, accompanied by the sound of Rike striking steel as she forged the entry-level swords. Next to us both, Samya and Diana were making molds for casts, melting down ore in the furnace, and filling the molds with the molten metal.

We worked to a symphony composed of the flame’s crackling, the wind’s soft rush, and the metal’s varied melodies. The space felt comfortable, like home.

The mithril fought me at every turn. Every new centimeter of length was an uphill battle, and I progressed at a crawling pace. By the end of the day, I had the mithril elongated to two-thirds of its final length. Given its stubbornness, I truly hoped that I’d be able to finish the restoration within the deadline.

Relative to an average blacksmith, I was working quickly, but I still felt pressured—my progress was so slow compared to when I forged a steel sword. The only thing that drove me forward was the enchanting song of the mithril. If not for that, my work would’ve been even more sluggish.

However, I couldn’t afford to be discouraged here, not when I still had the appoitakara waiting on the sidelines, plus other metals I hadn’t even heard of before. I had to overcome the wall before me, here and now, and drive away any doubts I had.

⌗⌗⌗

The next day, I braced myself mentally for another full session of battling with the mithril. Hammering out the metal was likely all I’d have time for, considering my pace from yesterday. Before starting work, I made sure to perform the newest additions to our family’s rituals: change out the offerings in the kamidana and pray. Rike was on entry-level model duty; Samya and Diana went out to hunt. As they left, Samya said, “I think there’s something large roaming around here.”

Lidy was observing me, as she had been all along. I didn’t mind, but...wasn’t there anything else she wanted to do besides stare at me hammering day after day?

As I waited for the metal to heat up in the firebed, I decided to broach the topic with her. “Miss Lidy?”

She was composed as she replied in her clear voice. “What is it?”

“Is it enjoyable to watch me work?”

“Hmm. If I were watching a normal person smith from day to night, I would likely grow tired of it. I understand why you’re asking, but Master Eizo, I wouldn’t call you normal.”

I judged that to be a compliment and gave my thanks. “I appreciate it.” She honestly didn’t know the half of it...

“Besides, we elves live long lives, so a day feels shorter to us than it does to a human.”

I pondered the scholastic but surprisingly languid image of elven society. It all made sense—time progressed differently for them.

But wait...Samya said she’s only five, right? Does that mean a single day feels really long to her? Unfortunately, I had been reborn in a human body, so I had no way of experiencing for myself how time passed for elves or beastfolk.

“What an exquisite sound,” Lidy said. “I’ve never met a blacksmith who could make mithril sing so beautifully, not in my home village nor in any of the other villages I’ve been to.”

“The sound changes depending on the smith?”

“Yes. The more efficiently magic is woven into mithril, the purer the tone it makes. Even among elven smiths, there are few who could rival you, Master Eizo.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rike nodding in agreement, but I pretended as if I hadn’t noticed. I simply hummed an acknowledgment and continued to hammer the hot mithril. One clear note after another rang out in the forge.

“The sound is also influenced by how refined the metal is to begin with,” continued Lidy.

“Oh, really?”

“For mithril at least. You won’t see much of a difference with steel, but the purer the mithril, the better it sounds.”

“I see.” I struck the sword again to play the elusive and pure song of the mithril for me and Lidy. Entranced by the beautiful ringing, I slipped into my thoughts.

I now understood why the rapier’s mithril hadn’t sounded the same—that metal must’ve had a lower purity. The impurities in its composition couldn’t absorb magic, and since it couldn’t hold as much power, it had been easier to shape overall. That was a plausible theory. Later, if I had the time, I could do some research into how to refine metals.

All in all, it took me three days to hammer the mithril out to the dimensions I wanted. However, the sword was still no more than a rod stuck onto the grip. The next stage was shaping the blade, but I’d save that for tomorrow. Doubling down and pulling an all-nighter was counterproductive to doing a good job. That was advice I’d learned from a wise pig in one of my favorite anime films back on Earth.

I could now see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’d just hit a checkpoint. Perhaps it was time to treat myself to a day off and restore my energy for the battle ahead.

Well, that’s not my decision alone to make. I’ll have to see what the client thinks.

I raised the idea of a rest day to the client—Lidy—over dinner. “Miss Lidy, is the two-week deadline nonnegotiable?”

“Why? Is there anything wrong?” she asked.

“I’ve reached the final stage of the restoration, but I was considering taking the next two days off to recoup.”

“I see.” Lidy rubbed her chin with her hand. She quickly reached a decision, looked me in the eyes, and stated, “It’s all right to extend the two-week deadline.”

“Thank you! I truly appreciate it.” It was rare to receive an extension on a commission’s deadline, but this project required an immense amount of work. As contradictory as it sounded, rest was an important component of productivity.

“That said, I haven’t decided what to do with my off time yet,” I admitted. I stroked my chin as I thought, just as Lidy had a second ago.

“How ’bout we all go fishing again?” Samya suggested.

“You mean on one day or the other, right? Not an overnight stay?” I didn’t think she was proposing a camping trip, but if she was, it wouldn’t be impossible. In any case, I thought I’d better clarify.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Let’s go fishing the day after tomorrow then.”

“Awesome!” Samya exclaimed. At times like these, she acted her true age, not the age she looked. I always forgot that she was actually five years old on the inside.

“Okay then! We’ll be taking a break tomorrow and the day after,” I said. “We’ll still need to retrieve the spoils of your hunt in the morning.”

“Sure,” said Samya. Lidy agreed.

Shall I make some fishing poles tomorrow afternoon? I won’t be able to make reels, but I can at least make rods and hooks for Diana and Lidy. Rike is probably going to be practicing in the workshop during her off time, so she’ll be firing up the forge anyway.

I didn’t hate my work as a blacksmith or anything, but repeating the same task every single day would only sap my energy. In comparison, just imagining what I’d do on my day off gave me the motivation to keep going. It’d been the same back in my last world.

Vacations were a crucial part of life. Since we already had a secure source of income, I wanted us to start taking regular days off instead of only when the opportunity arose.

Just then, I remembered Samya and Diana’s hunt. “I forgot to ask, but what exactly was the catch of the day?”

“A deer, a huge one!” Samya boasted.

If the deer was as large as she claimed it was, it might be worth preserving its tendons for the future. “What do you think?” I asked Samya.

“That’s trueee. It’s ’bout time for Diana to get a bow of her own. Can I leave that up to you?”

Lidy overheard our conversation and chimed in. “Did you say ‘a bow’? You can make bows, too, Master Eizo?” I could practically see the stars in her eyes. She pressed closer in her enthusiasm.

I was a blacksmith by trade, but since I could make scabbards and the like, crafting a bow wasn’t out of the question. Everything was made possible because of my cheats, of course. But for woodwork, I wasn’t able to make quality custom items.

“When I have a free moment, I’ll make her one,” I said, responding to Samya’s request.

According to my installed knowledge, this world not only had wooden bows but composite bows made using animal horns and bones. However, making a composite bow wasn’t a matter of putting in a little extra effort; they took time to make. If I were to make a bow, I would stick to a simple wooden bow. I might consider laminating it, though.

At any rate, as long as Diana was going to be tagging along on Samya’s hunts, she would need a bow of her own. It might just save her life one day.

My date with the appoitakara may be delayed anyway. I should look into the characteristics of a bow before then.

“Thanks, Eizo,” Samya said.

“Actually, I should be the one thanking you,” Diana told me.

“Don’t mention it,” I replied. “I rarely have a chance to make a bow, so it’s a good opportunity for me to try something new.”

“From weapons to food and even furniture... You can make it all, can’t you, Boss?”

“You know how it goes. When you’re not picky about what you try your hand at, you end up learning to do a little of everything. That’s how it was with me at least.” That was almost entirely a lie, though. All my blacksmithing abilities were cheats. On top of that, my language, crafting, and combat-related abilities were all given, not earned.

With my cheat abilities, I was able to defeat a bear and fight toe to toe with Helen, the mercenary whom I suspected was the strongest in this era. My cheats also helped me with anything “production-related,” though that definition seemed to be rather broad—it included anything I could make with my own hands. I wasn’t a master craftsman by any means, but I had a solid foundation, and compared to your average person, I could produce items of much higher quality. If I used the same quality scale as I did for weapons, I could make items in the higher range of my entry-level models.

So, it had been misleading to say that I tried my hand at anything... I owed even the flavor of my cooking to my cheats. It was precisely because I hadn’t earned any of my skills that I’d never be able to reach the level of a master. I had been able to spar evenly with Helen only because she hadn’t been serious about taking my life. If she had come at me with killing intent, I would’ve been dead.

As an aside, the language I was speaking now could be considered the common tongue of this world. It was shared by many different races, but I didn’t know the exact extent to which it was spoken. Regardless, it was the only language I knew here. I certainly couldn’t speak to wolves. However, I might be able to understand more intellectual races, like, perhaps, a cockney dialect spoken by lizardmen. That was just an example though—I didn’t know whether such a dialect existed or not.

In any case, I’d be using my cheat abilities to make the bow. That was the second crafted item on my to-do list, but tomorrow, I’d have to make the poles and hooks for our fishing trip.

⌗⌗⌗

The next day, the five of us went to retrieve the deer’s corpse. It was fairly big, certainly the largest of the ones that Samya and Diana had caught so far.

A deer this size will have long tendons.

The tendons would have to be harvested and broken into pieces to separate out the fibers, which would then be intertwined. The longer the original tendon, the better. Samya was the expert when it came to processing sinews, so she would be doing the actual work.

As usual, we butchered the body efficiently, breaking it down into meat, hide, and bones. The bones weren’t unusable per se, but it was difficult to turn them into anything useful, so we usually ended up throwing them away. The hide, as with the tendons, was usually processed by Samya, since she was the most knowledgeable. The rest of us prepared the meat, setting aside a portion to eat while it was fresh.

For lunch, I grilled the venison as it was. Once in a while, it was nice to prepare a simple meal like this without fuss. The meat alone was plenty delicious.

In the afternoon, I worked on the fishing rods and hooks that we would need for tomorrow. I wouldn’t have to make fishing line since I was planning to use the finest thread we had in the workshop, just as I had for the last rods I’d made.

I searched in the forest for suitable branches to use as fishing poles and found a few candidates before too long.

“Eizo, what are you grinning about?” Diana asked me when I returned to the cabin.

“Look at these beauties!” I gushed. “Aren’t they perfect for fishing rods?”

“If you say so...” Lidy responded with skepticism.

Being young ladies, neither of them understood what moved men’s hearts. I, on the other hand, was practically a fossil, but I had been young once... When I’d been a spry lad, I’d acquired a discerning eye for promising tree branches. Well, whether that was a skill people actually aspired to was another story, but in any case, boys in general were skilled at scavenging and scouting.

We still had the rods I’d made last time, so today, I only needed two shapely branches. I trimmed and smoothed down the new ones with my knife. Since I’d gone out of my way to find such superb branches, it was important that I didn’t ruin them while working. Of course, with my cheats backing me up, there was no real need to worry.

After the rods came the fishhooks. The hooks were much more delicate to forge than swords or knives, so they required more concentration. Thankfully, since I was able to regain my thirty-year-old body, my vision was still sharp. In my last world, I heard that the ability to see up close was related to the health of a person’s eye muscles, so perhaps my vision had even been heightened in the same way as my physical abilities.

Rike was in the workshop with me forging knives for practice, studious as usual. Her skills had improved; although she couldn’t forge an entry-level knife as fast as I could, compared to an average blacksmith’s speed, she was astonishingly fast. She’d want to move on to elite models soon.

To Rike, this was a period filled with trials and tribulations. Sure, her skills were excellent compared to most blacksmiths, but there were higher mountains for her to climb. Some smiths didn’t have the skills nor the understanding to surpass their current level and couldn’t see past their own limited world. However, Rike was different. She understood her limits and had the talent to overcome them. Right now, she was searching fervently for what she needed to do in order to take her skills to the next level.

As her “Boss,” I should’ve been the one to guide her on her journey, but it was impossible to pass my abilities on to her since all my skills were cheats. Honestly, I didn’t even understand what I was doing half the time. I should work to comprehend my own abilities so that I can teach Rike properly one day.

The sharp clanks of Rike’s hammer striking the surface of her practice knife filled the workshop. That sound was interspersed with quiet and syncopated tinks, similar to the sound of a hi-hat. There was rhythm but no melody, so you couldn’t truly call the combination of the two sounds music, but it was still an enjoyable performance.

When I started making the hooks, I had a moment of doubt—was it all right to depend on my cheats for a task like this? However, given that the quality of the fishhook would have a heavy influence on whether our trip tomorrow ended in success or failure, I had no choice but to use my cheats, right?

Work hard, play harder. With that philosophy in mind, I made eight fishhooks in total (the two I needed plus a few backups). Everything was now ready for our daycation!

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning dawned brightly. The plan was for all five of us to head to a nearby river to fish. Unlike last time, I had two new companions, dare I say comrades, who could get skunked with me. Diana was the precious young lady of a noble family, so she probably didn’t have much fishing experience. Lidy lived in a forest, so perhaps she’d never gone fishing before either.

Not that it was a competition! But it was nice to have friends on your side, both in times of success and failure.

I packed a portable burner and lunch in a basket, which I placed into a knapsack. Alongside that, I added a pot for boiling water and some other miscellaneous items.

Time to depart!

The river was a bit of a trek to get to. Along the way, I asked Samya and Diana about the water sources in our region. According to them, our destination was merely a tributary, just one of the many rivers that flowed out of the lake. The largest river was even farther, nearly the same distance away as the city, which would make it quite a journey. Larger rivers were also deeper, so they were difficult to cross. I decided that I did want to visit it once, just to see it.

Once we arrived at the riverbank, the five of us looked for a promising spot to set up. The location where Samya, Rike, and I had fished last time was decent, but we checked around to see if we could find anywhere better. When we made up our minds, I spread out a sheet along the riverbank and unpacked the basket that held our lunch.

We searched for bait beneath some rocks in the area. Diana and Lidy both baited their hooks without any commotion. I’d expected more of a fuss from them, so their composure was a letdown to me. I asked them both why they weren’t squeamish. In response, Diana said, “I used to play outside all the time with my brothers as a child.”

Right, right, of course. She had grown up with three older brothers. I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her father.

As for Lidy, she explained that there was a river running near her home. That made sense, now that I thought about it. Lakes and rivers were the most common water sources in a forest.

Maybe I’ll be getting skunked alone today after all...

The five of us spread out along the riverbank and cast our lines. Sunlight danced on the water’s surface; the current was lazy and slow where we set up camp, and the breeze was gentle. It was the perfect place to relax.

Once in a while, it’s nice to shrug off our responsibilities and take it easy.

Suddenly, I heard a loud splash. Looking over, I saw that Samya had snapped her rod up.

I shouted without thinking. “It’s a big one!” A freshwater fish about fifteen centimeters long was struggling at the other end of her line. For a moment, I was afraid that the line would snap, but it did indeed hold as Samya smoothly pulled the fish toward the bank.

After yanking the fish out of the water, she removed the hook. “Gotcha!” She was beaming with satisfaction, and she held up the fish for us to see. I understood exactly how she was feeling; if I’d landed a fish that size, I would’ve been proud as well.

I tucked my fishing rod under my arm and applauded. “Good show!”

Samya may have taken the gold, but the rest of us couldn’t call it quits just yet. While we were here, we might as well try to catch enough for dinner. Plus...now that Samya had caught a fish, the pain of getting skunked was no longer all of ours to share.

Unfortunately, because the fish were now on their guard (or maybe for some other reason), none of us saw any more bites for a long while.

“It’s just after noon. Why don’t we take a break and have lunch?” I suggested. Everyone agreed, so we began to prepare the meal.

We gathered twigs and branches to use as kindling and built a campfire. I filled the pot with water from the river and set it to boil. I’d brought along some of the mint leaves that Samya and Diana had gathered the other day and steeped them in the water. When the tea was ready, I poured portions into wooden cups for everyone.

I remembered watching an anime in my previous world about a few girls who liked to go camping together. In our case, there was an extra geezer added into the mix, so it didn’t quite have the same trademark laid-back atmosphere.

We chatted about this and that as we ate. Samya, who had already caught a fish, magnanimously shared her fishing wisdom with us. She explained that when she’d lived alone, she’d sometimes fished using coarse mesh nets made out of tree bark.

We didn’t have any nets with us today. Besides, we weren’t fishing for sustenance but for fun. If we were catching fish to survive on, it would make sense to try net or longline fishing.

I should think up some ways to make a longline. Come to think of it, longline was literally written as “long rope” in Japanese, but a fat rope doesn’t seem like it would be the right material to use.

After we’d eaten and relaxed, we each chose spots along the river that looked promising, and cast our lines in once again. The sun had climbed overhead, so the light now reflected differently off the river’s roiling current. The fish seemed to be dazzled by the glimmering light as well.

If only they would take the bait...

“Aaah!”

The sharp cry came from Diana—it looked like she’d hooked a fish. Samya flew to her side and started giving her instructions, and following Samya’s guidance, Diana successfully pulled in the fish without much difficulty. Perhaps it was because of her daily swordsmanship training during our sparring sessions, but even though she’d needed Samya’s help, her movements were surprisingly clean and efficient. She soon had the fish in her hand.

Diana ran over to me with an ear-to-ear grin. “I really did it! Look!” She held up the fish for me to see. It was just a tad slimmer and smaller than Samya’s catch, but it was still a sizable fish.

“You did great,” I praised, giving her an honest compliment. “Congrats.”

If we were back on Earth, this would’ve been the perfect moment to pull out our phones for a photo, but unfortunately, cell phones didn’t exist here. Neither did photos. Though, perhaps there was a magical tool or spell that could do something similar.

Someday, I hoped to meet someone who would trade their magical knowledge for a sword. Maybe some deal like, “I’ll make you a magical sword, so teach me all your magical secrets.”

After Diana’s success, Rike also managed to catch one fish. Lidy and I were the only ones with nothing to show for our time and effort. At this point during our last fishing trip, I’d become uselessly fired up. This time, I resolved to rein in my impatience and stick it out.

While I was doing my best to keep calm and carry on, Samya caught two more fish, bringing our total catch to five. Satisfied that we’d reached our quota, she went to explore the area instead.

No, wait... Was this actually her way of helping me out? Did she leave to clear the area and give me a better chance at catching something?

When it was nearly time for us to head home, I cast my line into the water one final time. Lidy and I still hadn’t caught any fish. Even if we were to leave right at this moment, I was grateful to not be alone in getting skunked today.

That being said, I didn’t really want to leave until we’d both caught something.

In my periphery, I saw Lidy climb to her feet all of a sudden. I traced the path of her line into the water. A shadow moved frantically beneath the current, its struggling accompanied by loud splashing.

As soon as I’d focused on Lidy, I felt a sharp jerk at the end of my own line.

“Whoa!” I cried out.

I was about to pull my rod back to set the hook when the tugging at my line ceased just as suddenly as it had appeared. I slumped to my knees. Fishing was one arena where my production-related cheats were of no help whatsoever. I guess that should’ve been obvious.

By contrast, Lidy had safely reeled in her own fish and was now holding it in her hands. She looked toward me with an apologetic expression.

“We have more than we need, so that’s a good thing, right? Right?” Diana looked over to Samya, Rike, and Lidy for agreement.

“R-Right. Eizo, you can have the largest one!” declared Samya.

“Diana’s right,” said Rike. “Family members have to help each other out in times like these, Boss.”

“I-It’s all luck!” Lidy added.

I was touched by their responses, but their kindness wasn’t enough to erase the pain in my heart completely. “Thank you, everyone...” I managed to say. By the time we’d packed up and set off for home, I was still despondent.

Somehow, our dinner ended up tasting saltier than usual.

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, I came back from fetching water to find Lidy outside the cabin. She was standing next to a tree with one hand on its trunk.

“Good morning,” I said. “It’s dangerous outside...or not, I guess, based on what you taught us.”

My mind had immediately jumped to warning her against wandering around, but I stopped myself, remembering Lidy’s explanations about this clearing and the surrounding forest.

“Yes. Animals won’t come near when the magic is so thick,” Lidy replied, her voice clear as the ringing of a bell.

“Is that because they sense some kind of threat?” I asked.

“You could say that. Most places with a thick magical atmosphere are also home to monsters.”

Her explanation threw me. “Do you mean to say that we could get ambushed by a monster at any time around here?”

“Not at all. Those kinds of encounters are near nonexistent,” she said. “Occasionally, a forest animal may be corrupted and turn into a monster, but even in that case, they’d most likely retain their original disposition. It is rare, though not unheard of, for a magical beast to go on any kind of rampage.”

Lidy’s story was less comforting than she’d perhaps meant it to be. I doubted that the magical atmosphere around our cabin would make any sort of difference to an animal that had been corrupted.

Wait a minute... Could that bear, the one I killed, have undergone such a metamorphosis?

I recalled the bear that had injured Samya (wow, that event felt like an eternity ago). Maybe that bear hadn’t been fully corrupted at first, but by the time it’d come back around, it had already turned completely into a monster. That must’ve been why the bear’s presence had given me chills...

I didn’t know what exactly the bear had turned into, but I was glad I’d killed it before it’d become a bigger problem.

Huh? Hold on...

“If we were to keep an animal as a pet...” There was some hesitation in my voice.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Lidy answered. “However, judging from what I’ve seen when you and Miss Diana spar, both of you have excellent swordplay. Should the worst come to pass, as long as you can clean up the situation, owning an animal shouldn’t be a problem. As I said before, the animal’s fundamental nature shouldn’t change much, even if it does turn. For example, wolves around here would retain their intelligence.”

I couldn’t think of a more tragic way to part with a pet. Such a farewell was sure to scar the heart.

On the other hand, it was rare for an animal to transform into a monster, so there was most likely nothing to worry about. In the end, the outcome would be up to chance, but it soothed me to think that, if we purchased a horse, it was likely that the animal would live a good life.

“Magical energy tends to pool in caves and the like, and those places are also common spawning points for monsters—savage ones. Unfortunately, the phenomenon is not well understood.”

What a casual way to explain the birth of monsters... I learned something new today. I’m not sure if Samya or Diana mentioned any caves nearby, but if we find one, I’ll know to warn everyone to stay away.

Once I’d processed everything Lidy had just told me, I asked her, “Incidentally, what did you come outside for?” Her gaze sharpened at my question, and I quickly backpedaled. “I apologize if that was a rude question to ask. Please forget I said anything. I meant no offense.”

“No, it’s all right,” she said. “I’m only here to replenish my magical energy.”

“What do you mean?”

“We all eat food for sustenance, but elves also need magic to live.”

“Interesting.”

Is that why it’s so rare to see an elf in the city? They need magic to survive, and there’s little to be found in the city or the capital. The pieces are all falling into place.

I thought it would be insensitive of me to pry any further, so I only nodded.

Hefting the jugs of water, I turned toward the cabin, but then, Lidy stopped me. “You’re not going to ask any other questions, Master Eizo?” Her face was expressionless and her tone was flat.

“As a red-blooded male, there’s an endless number of questions I want to ask a beauty such as yourself, Miss Lidy,” I said. “However, I know when to keep my mouth shut.” I tried to grin disarmingly and went back inside without another word.

Did it look like I was trying too hard just now?

When I entered the forge, the first thing I did was say a prayer at the kamidana. Then, I lit the furnace and the firebed.

After that, I deviated a smidge from the routine. Today, I’d be continuing to restore the mithril sword, but I had finally reached the last leg of the journey. I slapped both hands to my cheeks, pumping myself up. “Let’s do this! One final push!”

Lidy had watched me psyching myself up and she asked, “Is the work from here on out that much more difficult?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Before, I could just focus on hammering the mithril. All I needed was to flatten it out. However, from today on, I’m shaping the sword. As I work, I’ll have to constantly check my progress against the wooden model to make sure I’m keeping faithful to the original.”

“It sounds difficult,” she said before sinking into silence. She looked like she was brooding over something.

“I apologize if I’ve worried you. I intend to complete the restoration to your satisfaction, so please rest assured.”

“No, I haven’t particularly been worr—never mind. I’m counting on you.” Lidy gazed at me intently. The sword must be extraordinarily precious. Knowing that, I was filled with an additional burst of motivation.

Yet, despite my cheats, my progress slowed even further. The key to seeing this restoration to its end would be to manage my stress and anxiety all the way to the finish line.

I heated the mithril and transferred it to the anvil when the time was right. I’d already moved the wooden model next to the anvil, so it was close enough for me to use as a guide. I hammered the mithril, constantly comparing my work in progress against the model. My cheats helped me understand where to hit, and every hammer strike was accompanied by a resonant tone and a dazzling burst of sparks.

Next to me, Lidy watched.

Is it just me, or is she closer than usual? Perhaps she’s more interested now that the work has entered its climax...? I’d be happy if that was the case.

I slid the mithril back into the fire. Every cycle of heating and hammering resulted in a small change to the shape of the sword. I repeated the process over and over, my cheats working in overdrive. While referencing the model, I hammered the metal into the shape of the original sword.

From morning to evening, the ringing of mithril filled the workshop.

By the end of the day, the shaping work was one-third complete. A casual observer might see it and comment, “It looks like a sword...maybe?”

Overall, I estimated that it would take me three days to finish the shaping and then another three or four days for the finishing touches. Two weeks gave me enough time for the restoration with a few days to spare, but we were falling behind on our normal delivery quota for Camilo. It was the right choice to have skipped a week. And at this pace, we might be able to fit in another day off.

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, I went out to fetch water. When I came back, Lidy wasn’t outside. I asked her about it over breakfast, framing the question carefully so the other three wouldn’t understand. Apparently, she didn’t have to replenish her magic every day. It was obvious, in retrospect; if she couldn’t go a day without replenishing her magical energy, she would’ve had trouble coming here in the first place.

Today’s work was fundamentally identical to yesterday’s, so I went through the same routine before getting down to business. The sounds of fire and hammering soon filled the workshop.

Rike, Samya, and Diana were forging alongside me today. Rather than working in silence, they chatted about everything, from the pile of sewing projects that’d been accumulating to Diana’s memories of the capital. When Rike needed to concentrate, they would quiet down.

I didn’t mind them talking as they worked since it didn’t affect my concentration. Plus, I couldn’t play music like I would’ve back in my last world. There was no such thing as a smartphone here. Their chatter was like a radio talk show playing in the background.

Occasionally, I spoke to Lidy as I forged. I would usually ask her about something food-related, she’d answer, and I’d nod back. Today, I had a question for her that’d been on my mind for a while now.

“Lidy, can I ask you something? You’re not obligated to answer, of course.”

“Yes, please do,” she said. The red glow of the mithril was reflected in her blue eyes.

“Will you tell me how this sword ended up in this state?” The restoration was no easy feat, even with my cheats. The original sword must’ve been exquisite. It was one thing for a high-quality sword to chip or crack, but it had sundered completely. I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had happened... What could have broken such a splendid sword? A mithril sword?

I wanted to repair this blade so that it wouldn’t break a second time. Once I finished the restoration, it would be ideal if I could test it; I wanted to reenact the final, critical blow that’d shattered the sword in the first place. The curiosity made my blacksmith’s blood boil.

Lidy looked down, probably considering whether she should answer or not. After a short while, she raised her head and looked me in the eyes. “The circumstances were magical in nature, so I’m afraid I can’t go into the specifics,” she began. “There is a way to extract and wield the magic imbued in a mithril weapon. One of the reasons my village guarded this sword was so that we could use its magic in a bind. That circumstance came to pass when the unthinkable befell the village, and we were forced to draw magic out of the sword. We withdrew too much, and it just—”

“—broke,” I finished for her.

Lidy nodded.

That was why she had been looking for a blacksmith who could not only make the sword whole again but also weave magic into metal. If the smith—whether human, elven, or dwarven—was unable to replenish the sword’s magic, it would no longer be able to function as (pardon the expression) a magical battery. On the other hand, it wasn’t enough to create a vessel for magic with any old shape and design either. The sword was a precious artifact of the village.

“I understand now.”

I brought the hammer up and took another swing at the mithril. It had cooled, so I transferred it back to the fire bed.

Well, there goes my experiment.

Based on Lidy’s story, there would be no way for us to reenact the circumstances which had led to the sword breaking, and it was impossible to prevent the blade from shattering once again.

The sword was comparable to Prince Rubert’s drops. These drops were tadpole-shaped glass beads—the head of the bead could withstand unbelievable amounts of force, but the tail was brittle. Even the slightest damage to the tail would shatter the drop completely. We were in a situation where we could test the “head,” the sword’s durability, but we wouldn’t be able to test the “tail,” the sword’s magical weakness. In addition, I couldn’t prevent the sword from breaking again if its weakness was exploited.

However, the conversation hadn’t been a complete waste of time. There’d been a gem buried away in Lidy’s story. The way she’d sidestepped the details about magical extraction told me that the technique was likely a secret passed down in her village or among elves. Regardless, the information that mithril items could be used as magical batteries was valuable enough.

Lidy didn’t say anything further about what had happened in her village. I had no intention of wringing the story out of her by force and decided not to ask any more questions. All I said was, “Thank you for sharing this information with me.”

By the following day, the shaping work was largely complete. There were still minor adjustments I had to make, but it was a passable replica of the wooden model.

How far will my abilities carry me? How perfect of a replica can I make?

I slapped both palms to my cheeks to focus my mind.

Just a little more.

Before I started to work, I inspected the sword closely to see which spots still needed attention. I was pleased that it looked much more like a sword now compared to when I’d started. I checked and double-checked the power weaved into the metal and was satisfied that it was filled to the brim with magic.

From here on out, I have to continue preserving the magical essence.

I slid the sword into the firebed. Leveraging my cheats, I had arranged the charcoal and controlled the breeze to heat the precise location that I wanted to work on. I waited for the mithril to rise to the correct temperature before removing it and hammering. When I was satisfied, I compared it to the wooden model.

Beyond that, it was rinse and repeat.

Samya and Diana were out hunting today. Rike was forging entry-level model knives. While I worked, I chatted with Rike and Lidy. When I needed to concentrate, like when I had to compare the sword against the model, Rike and Lidy talked among themselves.

When Lidy had first joined us, she and Rike had been stilted and awkward together, but after a week of living in the same cabin, they were starting to open up.

Today, Rike was saying to Lidy, “I just can’t grasp the way magic flows... Not the way Boss can.”

“I’ve heard that dwarves are unparalleled when it comes to analyzing minerals, much more so than magical mastery,” Lidy replied.

“I’d settle for a fraction of Boss’s magical ability, but how am I supposed to learn?”

“That man far exceeds the norm. Comparing yourself to him will only lead to hardship, I think.”

“I know that,” Rike said, “but don’t you have any tricks?”

Hearing that, Lidy relented. “I won’t be here for much longer, but I’ll help you practice in the meantime.”

“Seriously? Yes, please!” Rike exclaimed. “I’m in your debt!” She bowed.

Lidy looked flustered, but she smiled back at Rike. I had a feeling I’d worn that very same expression before.

Dwarves and elves. In my previous world, the two races tended to be portrayed as bitter rivals. It was heartwarming to see Rike and Lidy establish a relationship where they could learn from each other and grow together.

Lidy told me that she’d already come to understand my abilities and there was no longer any need for her to oversee the restoration. And so, she switched from observing me to teaching Rike about magic while Rike worked. That being said, I occasionally saw her sneaking glances my way, so she was still keeping an eye on my progress.

Her diligence was a lifesaver, honestly. I could have more confidence in my work this way. I even asked Lidy for her opinion a couple of times, just to help check my progress. The biggest headaches were caused by mistakes pointed out too late, after much headway had been made. I’d had the displeasure of experiencing that particular flavor of trauma a number of times in my last life. Just remembering those days made me sad...

I finished the work I’d planned for the day without any hiccups. On the other hand, Rike had been occupied with training to see magical essence, so her progress had been slow. Luckily, there was still time before our next trip to Camilo’s, and our delivery “quota” had never been set in stone anyway.

It was more important for Rike to polish her skills. That way, I could make entry-level models, prioritizing speed, and Rike could start making elite models. Flexibility in our roles would make us more resilient. It was important that Forge Eizo not be dependent on my availability to fulfill our quota. Rike would also gain more confidence in her skills and be one step closer to her goal of bringing back new techniques to her family’s forge.

As we cleaned up the workshop, Samya and Diana returned from their hunt. They came back empty-handed, so I assumed they’d killed a big animal. When I asked, they said they had taken down a large boar. As always, Diana had played the beater’s role.

Flexibility was important on this front too; Samya and Diana could switch roles during their hunts. Apparently, in their spare time, Samya had been training Diana in archery, but it was still up to me to make a bow for her.

Tragically, they weren’t blessed with a sighting of the wolf pup today, much to Diana’s disappointment.

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, we brought back the boar from Samya and Diana’s hunt, and after lunch, we busied ourselves with our individual projects. I was continuing my work on the mithril sword; Rike was forging knives, and Lidy was by her side, helping Rike train her magic; Samya and Diana were practicing archery in the clearing.

The swordsmithing was going rather well. At this point, the actual sword matched the model’s shape almost exactly, and there was barely a difference in the overall silhouette.

I slid the blade into the firebed to heat. With my cheats guiding me (as always), I removed the sword when I judged it to be the right temperature and struck it several times, adjusting the shape. Before returning it to the firebed to restart the cycle, I also checked to make sure the shape still matched the model.

The work was straightforward and repetitive. It felt like I was stuck inside a loop. However, every time I compared the metal sword to the wooden one, I saw that the blade had changed minutely, becoming a fraction more similar to the model.

During one round of shaping, once the mithril had cooled out of its target temperature range and I had transferred it back to the firebed, I decided to check in on Rike and Lidy. It looked like Rike was seeing benefits from the training.

The knife she was forging sparkled, which meant that there was more magic woven into it than the items she usually produced. At least, that’s the way it appeared at first glance, but I wouldn’t be able to tell for sure without a closer inspection.

I returned to my work but continued to think about Rike’s training. If she kept improving and eventually learned to imbue her creations with magic, we could start selling a second type of elite model. The breakdown for our new categories would fall along the following lines:

Entry-level models would still be forged with neither special techniques nor magic. Elite models could be works forged with either technique or magic. The first type of elite model would be defined by the care we took to forge the item; our focus would be on drawing out the material’s inherent strength and qualities. The second kind would be items forged with more or less the same technique as entry-level models, however, we would weave magic into them. Finally, custom models were blades that were forged by marrying technique with magic, the best of both worlds.

My hope was for Rike to start with the first type of elite model and focus on her technical skills. The resulting blades would end up with more magic that way, and those techniques would come in handy even if she had to forge in a low-magic environment.

The Eimoor family’s heirloom sword had been exquisite, even before I’d managed to imbue it with magic, if I do say so myself. So, the first step for Rike was forging swords that were awe-inspiring even without added power. Once she reached that level, then we could plan out the next steps.

However, it was good for Rike to study up on magic while Lidy was around; I was dependent on my cheats, so I couldn’t teach her about magic in any detail. Once Lidy left, I’d take over Rike’s training again and have her focus on forging techniques.

I felt like I could hear Samya’s teasing voice in my head... If she were here, she’d say something like, “Look who’s getting serious!”

I smiled wryly to myself and refocused on the task at hand.

⌗⌗⌗

Rike, Lidy, and I kept the same schedule the following day. Samya and Diana went out to gather herbs and fruit, and I told them I’d be happy with whatever they found.

The three of us lined up before the kamidana to pray—we asked that both our work in the forge and in the forest yield rewards. We bowed twice, clapped twice, and bowed once more. The close of this ritual signaled the official start of the workday.

As for the smithing, it was identical to the previous day’s in story, setting, and soundtrack. Lidy was instructing Rike in magic again. Since Lidy was tall and Rike short, it looked, at a glance, like Lidy was a mother who was showing her daughter the ropes. In my previous life, I’d never felt the happiness of watching over family... Perhaps I could now say that I’d checked off that box.

Truthfully, working on the same thing day after day had clouded my mood, but the heartwarming scene before me blew away that fog in an instant.

By the end of the day, the restoration was just a hair’s breadth away from the finish line. The sword was nearly indistinguishable from the wooden model. To a layman, it would likely look perfect already, but my cheats told me otherwise. There was still more to do, and I wouldn’t reach my goal until tomorrow.

I tidied up my workspace, and by the time I’d finished, Samya and Diana had returned. They’d gathered fruits that looked like strawberries and peaches.

“Did you find what I asked for?” I inquired.

“Yeah, is this enough?” Samya showed me the day’s spoils.

“Yes, great. Thanks.”

So...you may be wondering what I’d asked for.

The answer was mint, but with a twist—I’d told Samya to bring back mint plants with the roots still intact. My plan was to soak them in water tonight and plant them in the courtyard tomorrow. If they were the same as mint plants on Earth, I could leave them alone from there; they would thrive with just soil, light, and water.

Back in my last world, they were grown hydroponically, and they were abundant, perhaps too abundant. If it turned out that I couldn’t raise them properly, I’d rethink my strategy, but if this venture was successful, I’d be able to enjoy a refreshing mint tea any time I wanted.

⌗⌗⌗

After breakfast the next morning, while we discussed our plans for the day, I announced to everyone, “I’ll be finishing the restoration today.”

“Finally!” Samya cheered. “Go get it, tiger!”

“Almost there, Boss. I’m rooting for you,” said Rike.

“I can’t wait to see it.” That was Diana.

And finally, Lidy chimed in, saying, “I can’t thank you enough.”

I was pumped up after hearing everyone’s encouraging words. Since it was a big day, the other four put a pause on their work to observe me instead.

When we entered the workshop, all five of us prayed at the kamidana. I calmed my heart, suppressing the giddiness I felt after being buoyed by everyone’s support. When I faced the kamidana, I felt as if I were water on the surface of a lake, and a light breeze had crossed over me only moments ago.

We bowed twice and clapped twice. I prayed for the work to go smoothly and for the restoration to finish without incident. We closed our prayers with a final bow. The wind blowing in my heart had died down completely by the end, and I was filled with nothing else but peace and quiet.

Normally, I lit the firebed without thinking about it, but today, I prepared the fire with intent, as if I were breathing it to life.

I approached my work with tranquility. Over the course of the smithing session, I encountered setbacks, but I didn’t feel my usual irritation. I wielded my hammer with the same serenity, and the mithril rewarded my patience by slowly morphing in accordance with my will.

A little past noon, when I’d run out of spots to adjust, I compared the sword to the model one last time. It was a perfect match.

But I wasn’t done yet—the last step was to sharpen the blade. The sword had the same appearance as the original, but its edge was dull, and it wouldn’t be able to cut anything. I relied on my cheats as I whet the blade slowly and carefully.

A natural consequence of sharpening the sword was that I’d be grinding off some of the mithril. I wasn’t sure whether the sword would also lose some of its magic in the process. For the moment, my sole focus was to hone the edge as sharp as possible. The sword felt firm and solid beneath my fingertips and it passed smoothly across the whetstone. The mithril made a shink sound as if it were glass. I was delighted to draw out yet another, different kind of sound from the metal.

As I slid the blade across the whetstone a final time, the shink sound rang out in the workshop. I inspected the edge. The sword was so sharp that it looked like it could slice through the very molecules in the air. I nodded in satisfaction.

Sensing that I was finished, Lidy passed over the sword’s cross guard and grip. I accepted them, then welded them to the blade. If I had my way, not a single atom would be out of place on the completed sword. As the final touch, I secured the hilt with a pin.

I lifted the fully restored sword reverently and ran my eyes along its length from tip to pommel.

“I am done.”

My words were met with cheering from my audience, Lidy included. I would do a final round of inspections on the sword, but I was confident that my work was a perfect twin of the original.

“Miss Lidy,” I said.

“Yes?” she replied.

“The restoration is now complete. Will you please inspect the sword?”

“Yes. Please pass it to me.”

I handed her the blade, and Lidy started scrutinizing it. Her gaze was serious and focused, and she would leave no part of the surface unchecked. I was sure she wouldn’t find any issues with my work, but this was an important commission. With bated breath, I waited to hear her assessment.

I wasn’t nervous because of Lidy. Rather, I was afraid to hear that I’d inadvertently imposed too much of my own opinion on the restoration. If I’d failed to honor the original spirit of the sword, then I would’ve failed as a blacksmith. And if that happened, I’d have no choice but to reforge the blade again.

The more I worried, the more my will wavered. I started to shrink in on myself. It seemed like the three ladies of the house were feeling the same pressure because they were staring daggers into Lidy as she continued her inspection. I was grateful for their support, but at the same time, the excess scrutiny could make it uncomfortable for Lidy to do her job. I wished they’d ease off.

At last, Lidy set the sword back on the counter. She’d reached a decision, and I couldn’t help but join in on the sharp staring.

When Lidy looked up, she flinched beneath the combined weight of four gazes but quickly regained her composure. “Thank you all for waiting,” she announced. “This sword meets and goes beyond the requirement of the commission.”

“We did it!” Samya shouted. She leaped out of her seat and embraced Rike and Diana.

I was thrilled, but something Lidy said had caught my attention. “‘Goes beyond’? What do you mean?”

I wasn’t angry or sad at the outcome; I simply asked out of curiosity.

Going above and beyond a client’s expectations was a cause for celebration. It was an unquestionably positive review, normally speaking. However, the requirements for this particular commission were to restore the sword to its “original” condition. In this scenario, was going beyond the original desirable? It was possible that matching the exact quality of the sword was critical.

Luckily, Lidy answered promptly, “Let me explain. The requirement was to restore the sword to its former condition. The appearance, of course, is a perfect match, but in terms of the magic, you’ve actually managed to imbue the sword with much more power than it had previously held. For the purposes of the specific magical techniques we use, the more magic the sword holds the better. You’ve done us a huge favor.”

She must’ve been referring to the magical battery. Exceeding the sword’s capacity for magic had resulted in the sword breaking, so a bigger capacity was beneficial.

I was relieved. The worry that I’d transgressed lifted from my shoulders.

I didn’t know how much magic the sword had held before, but it must have been a fair amount. Yet, the elves had to expend the sword’s magic completely. What could have happened to Lidy’s village? I was curious, but no matter how you looked at it, that wasn’t the sort of question I could ask casually.

Well, if it breaks again, I’ll just have to repair it a second time.

“About the commission fee...” Lidy said.

Oh right...payment is usually a part of transactional services.

The restoration had been a great learning opportunity for me, so I didn’t mind a reduced payment. In any case, I already had a system for moments like this.

“The payment for people who come alone to make their request is at the commissioner’s discretion. Please pay what you think the restoration is worth, Miss Lidy.”

“I see,” she replied. “Let me think.” She brought up a hand to rest delicately on her jaw as she pondered. With her slim face and elegant demeanor, the gesture suited her.

Our last guest before Lidy was Helen. Talk about two people who are as different as night and day...

After thinking for a short while, Lidy said, “Please wait here a moment.” She then returned to the living area.

In the meantime, I picked up the sword, now restored to 120 percent of its former condition, and settled into a fighting stance. The blade was extremely light. Considering that I’d been working with it for the last two weeks, that wasn’t news to me. A steel sword would’ve been much heavier since steel was far denser. By weight, the same amount of steel would’ve only been enough to make a hinogokami, a small Japanese folding knife.

Well, I exaggerate, but it certainly wouldn’t have been enough for anything much bigger than a knife.

I would’ve tested a few swings, but the sword belonged to the customer. With a newly forged sword, I could’ve claimed the first swing to trial the blade’s edge, but this commission was a restoration.

Before long, Lidy came back holding a small, cloth bag, which I guessed to be her wallet. “Thank you for your patience,” she said.

From the bag, she removed five gold pieces and two thin bars of something that I’d never seen before. When I looked closer, they turned out to be jewelstones. I didn’t know their exact worth, but they certainly looked valuable.

“A sword imbued with this amount of magic may be worth more than this,” said Lidy, “but this amount is all I can afford at the moment.”

This...already looks like way more than enough. Lidy supplied the original materials and even tutored Rike in magical studies. I also learned a lot from this project...

Oh! I’ve got an idea.

“How about we do this,” I countered, slipping one gold piece back into Lidy’s hand. “Instead of taking this outright, I’d prefer a trade: can you deliver a gold piece’s worth of vegetable seeds from your village to the merchant who told you about our forge? Let him know it’s for me, and he’ll take it from there. Whatever your village can spare is enough. If it’s too much money for one delivery, I would be perfectly happy with seasonal deliveries as well. Unless...you’re forbidden from taking the vegetables grown in your village off premise...?”

“No, of course not. We regularly sell vegetables to human merchants,” she replied. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. I’d originally planned to see what vegetables were sold in the city during our next visit. This works out perfectly. Plus, we have a similar deal with the merchant in the city.”

It wasn’t a discount per se, but Lidy would be able to take the gold piece back to her village. I contented myself with the compromise.

I had talked to Rike and Diana about the fee for Helen’s dual blades and the compensation I’d received for my role in settling the Eimoor family dispute...but they’d scolded me, saying, “You mustn’t sell your services short. Make sure you receive the proper payment. Otherwise, you won’t be able to stand next to other blacksmiths.” I’d resolved then that I would stop giving discounts. At least, obvious discounts.

Samya had seemed confused about why Rike and Diana had been angry. It wasn’t that Samya was bad with numbers or money, as she had a perfectly adequate grasp of our day-to-day living costs. I suspected that the commission fees were too high for her to fully grasp the real value.

And for Lidy’s commission, I thought that three gold pieces was plenty.

Lidy looked lost in her own thoughts, but she came to a decision swiftly. “I agree to your proposal.” She then returned the gold coin to her pouch.

I’d actually wanted to give her back one more gold piece for Rike’s tutoring fees, but I didn’t want to push my luck. Everything would’ve been for naught if Lidy turned me down.

With the commission wrapped up in a neat little bow, we threw a goodbye party for Lidy over dinner. I brought out a feast of meat and wine. Perhaps it was strange to throw a party for a customer, but she wasn’t just a customer; she’d been our housemate all this time.

Lidy had wanted to pay a lodging fee as well, but as far as I was concerned, it balanced out with the lessons on magic that she’d given to Rike.

Humans in this world who weren’t born into prestigious families had no access to magic, which meant that knowledge about magic was a valuable commodity. If anything, the lessons were probably worth more than the few nights at our cabin. However, from Lidy’s perspective, she felt like she’d underpaid for the restoration work. In the end, we both agreed to call it even.

As the night wrapped up, Lidy said to me, “I’ve had a lot of meaningful experiences while staying here with all of you. I quite enjoyed myself, honestly. While I hope I won’t need to call on your repair expertise again anytime soon, I would like to return if anything comes up in the future.”

I smiled at her. “You are welcome back any time. We await your patronage here at Forge Eizo.”

⌗⌗⌗

The next morning, Lidy started her day in the forest, absorbing magical energy. She said it was to fuel the spell she’d construct to hide her presence on the journey back.

Although elves were strong magic users, traveling alone was still risky. I’d thought that Lidy would be a skilled swordsman, but it turned out that she actually had only the bare minimum of self-defense skills. In lieu of relying on combat, she had used magic to hide herself along the road to the city, dismantling the spell only once she’d been close. Similarly, when she’d traveled to the cabin, she’d used disguise magic on the road and in the forest.

The five of us ate one last breakfast together, then Lidy packed and prepared to leave. Everyone would accompany her through the forest and see her off at the road. This way, we could help lessen Lidy’s magical burden.

Samya led the party, followed by me, Lidy, and Rike, with Diana in the rear. There was no cart for me and Rike to pull today, so I had my hands free. Just in case, I brought along the spear I’d used to fight the bear.

Come to think of it, it would’ve made more sense to have brought along the delivery goods... We could’ve escorted Lidy all the way back to the city. A wasted opportunity! I’d remember going forward.

We didn’t see anything unusual on our way to the forest entrance, just birds and small critters who were no threat. It was a peaceful trek.

Since Lidy was an elf, there was a part of me that thought she might speak to the forest animals, but I was ultimately disappointed.

Elves aren’t so different from high-spec humans with magic abilities and long life spans, I guess.

When we reached the city road, Lidy turned to us and extended her right hand. “Thank you, everyone, for all that you’ve done for me.”

“It was our pleasure. Please come again. We’ll be waiting.” I clasped her hand in mine, and the other three all took turns doing the same.

“See ya!” said Samya

“I’ll keep up the magic training!” Rike promised.

“Can you teach me some elven sword techniques next time?” Diana asked.

And with that, Lidy took off. She waved at us and yelled out, “Until next time!”

I was surprised, in a good way, by her volume. She was usually very quiet.

All of us waved back at her. She set off on the road, and we watched until she had disappeared in the distance.

“She’s gone,” Samya whispered. Even a former lone wolf (or tiger) like Samya felt the emptiness of parting with someone you’ve grown close to.

“She’ll come back with another commission someday,” I said.

“That’s right,” Diana chimed in. “There are a lot of things that no one other than Eizo can make.”

We turned around and reentered the forest.

Tomorrow, our quiet, normal days would resume once again.