The Story of How We Met II: Lightning Blade’s Melancholy

A gust of wind whipped across the battlefield, crimson and fierce.

On second thought, “wind” may not adequately describe the phenomenon. Why not, you ask? The answer is that any gust of wind is a mere tortoise compared to her speed.

The most appropriate metaphor would be a bolt of lightning striking down from the heavens to scorch the earth below. But instead of bridging the sky and ground, this bolt of lightning streaks across the earthen surface, its crimson hue signaling death to the enemies in its path.

Her namesake came from the terrible speed with which she raced across the battlefield—Lightning Blade.

There was one more reason behind this moniker, and that was the dual shortswords she wielded. They sliced down enemies with grace as they danced through the air. It was her duty, after all, to thin out the numbers of the other side, soldier by soldier.

This region had been entangled in a minor conflict for many years on end. Neither side had any intention of resolving the conflict, nor, indeed, of winning in the first place. Accordingly, once she had culled the opposing soldiers down to an acceptable number, Lightning Blade was retired from the front lines. After all, the side she was allied with was close to the precipice of victory. Better to remove her prowess from the fight and eliminate any chance of accidentally delivering a decisive and final blow.

At the moment that she, along with a number of her allies, was about to exit the battle, she found herself approached by a fellow soldier.

No, wait.

Though he’d looked friendly at a glance, he was actually a foe that had come to put a stop to the legend of the Lightning Blade. If he could take her down, he’d be instantly able to turn the tides of the battle.

The man drew a shortsword hidden in his overcoat and thrust it at her. However, the motion had been a wasted effort. She swept the attack aside with her own sword, using such force that the man feared his hand would be torn from his wrist. As it was, his sword was ripped from his fingers and launched into the air beyond his reach.

Her own sword had not left the confrontation unscathed. Perhaps it was because of the power she’d put behind her counter, but the blade came away dented. She was, however, unfazed, and without missing a beat, she slew her enemy with her other sword.

And so the curtains lowered on our heroine as she emerged triumphant from her mission. No doubt, she’d be called into service another day, for that was her lot as a mercenary—but until then, she could rest.

⌗⌗⌗

I’d completed my mission successfully, but I couldn’t help but tsk whenever I remembered what it’d cost me: one more sword in a long line of broken swords.

The blade was chipped all over its length, and the fittings which kept the sword together had warped and slackened as well. It was hanging on by a thread. I knew from previous experience that the blade could bear only a few more blows before it snapped entirely. Most swords didn’t last long given the speed and force with which I wielded them, but I’d spent quite a pretty penny on this one.

Money wasn’t a problem; I was always compensated well, befitting my reputation as Lightning Blade. However, I expected to receive the quality that I paid for, and a brittle sword was only a hindrance to my job. When a sword failed to live up to my expectations, it always put me in a bad mood.

I needed something better, a durable and strong sword that surpassed any I’d wielded up until now. My plan was to journey to the capital in search of a swordsmith who had the skills to forge the kind of sword I wanted. But before that, I thought I’d consult a merchant acquaintance of mine. I’d heard through the rumor mill that he’d recently established a store in the city ruled by Count Eimoor. He’d traveled far and wide previously to peddle his wares, so he most likely already knew of a skilled blacksmith in the capital that I could call upon.

I received my payment and gathered up my meager belongings. Together with a group of people heading in the same direction, I set off to find a smith.

⌗⌗⌗

The journey from the battlefield on the country’s border to the city took one to two weeks by foot. Since my companions and I weren’t members of any mercenary guilds, we had no access to wagons or carriages.

My companions were all women. I’d traveled along with men once and only once before. It had been a pain in the ass, so I now journeyed exclusively with women.

Since we were all mercenaries, none of us could rightly be called ladylike, but we hadn’t entirely killed off our maidenly sides. As we walked, we gossiped about handsome men we’d encountered on the battlefield, which one of us was starting to smell ripe, and who’d been doing it with whom during the mission.

As for me, I’d more or less sworn off anything as messy and burdensome as men.

Well...I wouldn’t say no to a prince riding in on a white steed, but I knew better than to get my hopes up; there weren’t many men out there who I could accept as my equal.

Boisterous and in high spirits, we made our way along a wild and overgrown road that was little more than a hunting trail. We were still far from our destination, but our first leg of the journey would bring us to an intermediary village.

After four days on the road, walking when the sun was out and camping at night, we finally arrived at the village. That being said, we didn’t set foot within the bounds of it. There wasn’t a single villager who would have any faith in mercenaries, nor any kindness to show us.

We were used to the prejudice. This lifestyle was steady as long as we won our battles, but there were mercenaries that acted no better than bandits after suffering a loss. None of my companions nor I had any intention of such wanton cruelty even if we had lost, but the villagers made no such distinction.

We would detour around the village. It would add a couple of days to our journey, but the time was worth avoiding extra scrutiny. We had only aimed for this village because it was an easy landmark, but avoiding it was par for the course as a mercenary. From time to time, a mercenary would naively enter the village only to be driven right back out. Its defenses were infamous for being rigorous, even over-the-top, and a lone mercenary was no match.

We gave a wide berth to that village and eventually emerged onto a wide thoroughfare—the road into the city. Having come this far, all that was left was to follow it straight to my destination.

Our party split in half at this junction, and we parted ways with our companions who would be continuing in the opposite direction. Some of them I would never meet again. Farewells, both temporary and permanent, were unavoidable in this line of work.

I headed for the city with the few people who were going in the same direction. Our journey was merry and rowdy. Along the way, we passed several merchants in horse-drawn wagons, but none stopped to give us a ride. The odds were against us in that regard; there were few merchants who would be so kind. There were even ones who would agree to carry us, but with ulterior motives. We were a group of women after all, and the gazes we attracted were unlikely to be pure. I’d experienced that kind of unwanted attention firsthand when I’d been a novice, and I had no desire to relive it again.

On the road, we alternated standing guard in shifts. We replenished our supplies at amicable towns along the way and said goodbyes to our companions when the time came. In a few instances, we took down bandits and earned pocket change for our efforts. In the blink of an eye, ten days had passed since we’d been on the road.

For part of the journey, a large forest nudged against one side of the road alongside us, with endless rows of trees disappearing into the distance. It was the Black Forest, a dangerous location that was home to boars, wolves, and bears. Even the imperial army avoided its depths. Since time immemorial, forests had been a popular place for crooks to lay in ambush. Indeed, I’d even been contracted to suppress such petty resistances in the past. However, none would dare enter the Black Forest, so fearsome was its reputation.

Nevertheless, there were people who lived in the forest unharmed: the beastfolk. If I had a chance and was ever permitted, I’d like to ask one how they avoided the forest’s many perils; the information would undoubtedly be useful in my line of work.

But for the moment, I’d soon be arriving at my destination. The city’s outer walls had come into clear view. I was the only one stopping here, as the other women were heading straight for the capital, which was only a short trip away from this city. The capital’s greater population meant more jobs would be available, which made it a popular choice as a final destination.

A guard in metal armor stood at the gate. He looked like a bit of a cad.

Before going through the entrance, I waved goodbye to the last of my companions.

“All right, I understand what you’re looking for,” the merchant said, taking a long look at the dilapidated shortsword I’d just handed him.

This merchant’s name was Camilo. Once I’d arrived at his store, I’d quickly recapped why I’d come to see him.

After taking his time to think, he asked me a question. “From what I can tell, this sword is already quite the impressive specimen. Can’t you commission a new one from the same swordsmith?”

“No. I need a blade that’ll surpass this one.”

“It’s going to cost you,” he cautioned.

“No problem,” I insisted, leaning forward in my zeal. “This is a matter of life and death for me. Price is no object.”

My swords were the one thing I refused to compromise on. Even if Camilo said that the only one who could meet my expectations was the top blacksmith in the country, and even if they charged a gold coin per sword, I would happily pay the price.

Camilo had retreated back into his thoughts, twirling his mustache with his finger. I’d come to learn his habits in the time that I’d known him. The gesture meant that he already had someone in mind; he was only debating whether to tell me or not.

I was just starting to wonder if I’d have to wring the identity of his smith out of him by force when he clapped his hands together and declared, “Very well. I suppose I’ll tell you.”

“So you do have a person in mind?” I pressed.

“Yes. He’s the greatest blacksmith I’ve ever met. I dare say he’s the best of our era. He’ll leave his mark on history.”

“It’s rare for you to sing another’s praises.”

Camilo took a knife out of his pocket. It was on the smaller side and had the motif of a cat—a rather cute one—carved into its pommel. “The man I have in mind forged this knife.”

I glanced at him. He caught my look and nodded at my unspoken request, sliding the knife out of its scabbard. It was of beautiful quality, and it came close to the caliber I was imagining, though it still fell a tad short of the mark.

Given the skill it must’ve taken to forge this knife, the blacksmith must be from one of the prominent noble families in the capital. Just how much did Camilo have to cough up to get his hands on it?

“He made this knife without even using his full abilities. His words,” Camilo said. “It was cheap too, although I did get a slight discount for buying in bulk.”

He told me the price.

I couldn’t hold back my shock. “Seriously?”

Your average villager could afford to buy that knife if they worked to save up money. It was out of the question for a blacksmith from the capital to sell a knife of this standard for the price Camilo had mentioned.

And this knife wasn’t even the best the smith could make? Then what could he make if he put his mind to it?

“He told me I could introduce anyone I approved of,” Camilo continued.

“Well? Don’t leave me hanging!” I said, leaning even closer.

“Now, now, calm down. I’ll tell you under two conditions.”

“What?”

“The first condition is his. You have to go see him alone,” he said.

“All right,” I agreed readily.

“The second condition is mine. You must keep the location a secret. You mustn’t tell anyone else.”

“I have to see him in person?” I verified.

“Yes, you do. He’s got a good head for business, of course, but...hmmm, how do I put this?” he mused. “He’s got a good heart but can be a bit of a birdbrain. Can you guess where he first sold these blades?”

“Where...?”

“In the Open Market.”

“Wha—” I was rendered speechless.

He sold such high-quality goods in the Open Market? Of all places?! There was no way the people who frequented that market could understand or appreciate his workmanship! “Birdbrained” was right.

Besides, if the city blacksmiths had gotten a whiff of his business—let alone the lord himself—it would’ve caused quite the commotion.

“What can I say? That’s just who he is,” Camilo said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get him into any hot water.”

“Say no more. I understand you perfectly,” I replied.

Camilo smiled wryly, looking a touch overwhelmed and out of his depth, but he mumbled a quiet word of gratitude in response.

It was a blessing that the smith was now partnered with Camilo. If he’d continued his slapdash business, he would’ve stirred up trouble sooner or later.

“All right, I’m choosing to trust you,” Camilo said.

“Thanks.”

“The blacksmith’s name is Eizo—” he began.

I cut in. “He’s from the north then.”

“Apparently. That’s what he told me at least.”

In my work as a mercenary, I’d had to fight alongside Nordic folk in the past. The name Eizo had a ring to it that reminded me of other names from the region.

“There’s one more thing,” Camilo said.

“What else can there be?” I snapped, starting to lose my patience. “Out with it already.”

He smirked at me. “Well, that is... He lives in the Black Forest.”

My hand moved of its own accord, and I slapped Camilo upside the head without thinking. I was sure he was messing with me, but he insisted that he was telling the truth. I had no choice but to believe him and travel into the Black Forest.

The moment I set foot into the forest proper, a chill ran down my spine. Ink-black trees towered high above me, blocking the light. The sun was still high in the sky, but beneath the canopy it was dark.

“At least pick a place where normal people live,” I grumbled to distract myself from my unease.

Camilo had told me the location of the workshop and landmarks to watch out for. However, if I were distracted for even a moment, I’d lose my way. I had no doubt—anyone who got lost in here would stay lost. Forever.

After carefully inspecting my surroundings, I found what looked to be tracks left by foot traffic and wagon wheels. If I just followed these tracks, I should have no problems. This was the first and only time I’d ever been grateful for my background as a mercenary.

The shrieking of birds and insects.

The ominous presence of wild beasts.

The gloom.

Put everything together and the result was an oppressive and terrifying atmosphere. But in reality, it wasn’t so scary. Along the way, I was only startled once by a rustle in a thicket as I was passing by, but it turned out to be a cute bunny rabbit.

At last, I arrived at a clearing. In the middle of it stood a cabin.

Smoke climbed high into the sky from the chimney, and that smoke was the beacon I’d been following this entire time. The blacksmith was already hard at work. I could hear the ring of metal striking metal.

I was briefly flummoxed as to which of the two doors to knock on. I figured that I was most likely to find people where the noise was loudest, so I followed the sound and chose the door closest to it. I walked over and rapped my knuckles sharply against the wood.

“I was told by Camilo to come here! I want to commission a sword!”

From inside, a man called out, “All right, all right, I’m coming.” He had a warm and languid voice.

I heard the clank of a latch being removed.

Tension and excitement battled for dominance within my body. My heart was even racing, which was quite unusual for me.

I waited with bated breath to see what kind of man my swordsmith would be.