Accessory number two: the grip. It was made of two symmetrical wooden pieces. On both halves, I carved out a slot for the tang to sit in and then opened up a rivet hole, making sure they aligned with the one on the tang. Finally, I attached the two pieces.

  The grip of a katana was usually wrapped with shagreen leather and braided cords, but neither was available to me, so I had to make do with the items on hand. I wound the grip with hemp fabric, and then I wrapped it again with a strip of leather, crisscrossing to form a repeating diamond pattern. To secure the wrappings, I fitted a steel cap on the end of the sword.

  I wondered if the proper materials were available in the north. If they were, then northern smiths might be offended by my improvisational approach. However, I hoped that they would forgive my transgressions and instead choose to see my design as creative.

  Unlike the habaki and cross guard, the hilt fell outside the scope of what my cheats could help me with, so it’d taken longer than I’d expected to make. I still had to construct the scabbard, but it was getting late.

  Before I called it quits, I wanted to see what the katana looked like all put together. I mounted the cross guard over the habaki and slotted the tang into the grip. Using rivets I’d chiseled out of wood, I fixed the grip in place.

  With everything affixed, the katana looked like...well, an unsheathed katana. Look at me, stating the obvious...

  But Nilda was entranced. “Whoaaa.”

  Judging from her initial reaction, I was sure she’d be happy with the finished product.

  I stored the katana away under the kamidana and then tidied up.

  After closing up shop, it was time for dinner. We were having our usual flatbread today. Yeasted bread took too long to proof, regardless of whether I used the straight method or the sponge-and-dough method. Fluffy bread would have to be a once-in-a-while treat.

  I told that to the others, and surprisingly, no one complained.

  “What kind of forge serves fresh baked bread every day?” Nilda said flippantly. “That sounds more suitable for the dinner table of nobles.”

  Now that she mentioned it, I understood why none of the others were upset. It was one thing for yeasted bread to exist in this world and another thing for common folks like us to be able to eat it regularly.

  “You’re right,” I told Nilda. “You must have good luck since you got to try our first batch of yeasted rolls.”

  She nodded firmly. “I certainly do.”

  With that, we wrapped up our bread discussion, and the rest of the dinner conversation flowed freely. Nilda had been staying with us for the last four or five days and had gotten to know not just Rike, but everyone else as well. Both today and yesterday, we’d asked Nilda to tell us whatever stories she could about the demon kingdom, and she obliged with a variety of information.

  Nilda told us that demons needed to replenish their magical supply regularly like elves. They lived quite far from the Black Forest, but there was another forest in their kingdom where the magical energy was even stronger. She refused to give us any details about the terrain, although that was to be expected. Geographical knowledge was tactically significant in any world.

  She did tell us that demons lived much like we did day-to-day. The big difference was that monsters spawned more frequently in her kingdom because of the dense concentration of magic. However, monsters did not normally attack demons. It wasn’t that they obeyed royal decrees made by demon monarchs; they were just seen as the equivalent of stray dogs rather than ferocious beasts.

  A few merchants did trade across borders, but apparently, average humans weren’t able to travel very far into the demon kingdom because of the magical energy. Therefore, trade had to occur near the border.

  I could certainly see Camilo being one of the merchants who did business with demons, although I didn’t intend to ask him about it.

  ⌗⌗⌗

  The next day, I was finally on the last stage of the commission: making the scabbard.

  Like the previous few fixtures I’d made, the scabbard was usually made by a specialist, but as long as I wasn’t trying to make anything lavish, my cheats would suffice. The structure of the scabbard was fairly easy to design. Before this, I’d made scabbards for knives and swords, and a katana’s scabbard was fundamentally no different. There was just one slight adjustment—the katana’s blade was slightly curved, so the scabbard had to be curved as well. If the blade and the scabbard didn’t match perfectly in shape, the katana would be difficult to unsheathe. In fact, there was a saying in Japanese that meant “not on the same wavelength,” which actually originated from the art of making a sheath for a katana—literally, it described the problems that arose when a blade and its scabbard did not line up properly.

  Using the wood stocked up in the workshop, I carved the rough shape of the scabbard using my custom knife. I also hollowed out the space where the blade would rest, and constantly checked the size using the katana blade. Ideally, only the back of the blade and the habaki would directly touch the scabbard. I kept that in mind while I carved.

  I also made the mouth of the scabbard a hair’s breadth more narrow than the habaki, so there was no danger of the katana slipping out accidentally.

  After I crafted the two halves of the scabbard, I had to glue them together. Traditionally, a paste made of rice was used, but I used a glue made from the collagen of animal parts instead since that was what I had on hand. I tried to minimize the number of contact points so that the scabbard would be easier to dismantle later on if need be.

  Next, I cleaned up the surface. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any lacquer, so I had to leave the wood unvarnished—Nilda would just have to hire a craftsman in the demon kingdom if she wanted the scabbard to have a more polished appearance.

  Of course, I had to make the fixtures as well. This included the metal collar that lined the scabbard’s mouth and the ring used to secure the scabbard, along with a metal piece—the kurikata—where cords were anchored to secure the katana to the wielder’s waist. The last piece needed was the end cap, called the kojiri.

  I made the ring, slipped it around the scabbard, and used the hammer to tighten it. The kurikata I welded to the ring, and then I inserted the metal collar into the mouth. Finally, I attached the kojiri, which I’d kept simple, to the bottom.

  Done at last!

  I called the set complete. There were normally few adjustments I’d have to make at this point, and I didn’t usually measure the length. The most I’d do would be to compare it to the length of the blade itself.

  Of course, scabbards usually took two or three weeks to complete. Making a scabbard in the span of a single day was practically unthinkable... My cheats were truly frightening. Overall, the katana along with the scabbard had only taken me a week. Though I’d forged the katana relatively quickly, a week was a week. This wasn’t the kind of sword I could forge in great numbers.

  “All right. It’s finished,” I declared.

  I sheathed the katana and drew it out to test the fit. The scabbard felt neither too tight nor too loose.

  In my opinion, the most important trait for a weapon was consistency—it needed to perform the way the wielder expected. Needless to say, that was my belief for katanas as well. The weapon was a failure if it presented a danger when it wasn’t being used. Conversely, it was also no good if it proved useless when the wielder needed it.

  With that baseline in mind, I would consider this scabbard to be one of the most well-crafted items I’d made thus far.

  Nilda was on the edge of her seat. She looked like she would explode if she had to wait any longer. “You’re done?!”

  She’d observed the forging process from beginning to end. Had she found it interesting or had she just been watching to make sure I didn’t do anything strange to her sword?

  “Yeah. Take it outside and give it a try.”

  “Gladly!” She snatched up the sheathed katana and dashed out the door.

  Lit by the last rays of the setting sun, she slid the katana clean from its scabbard and tossed the scabbard to the ground nearby.

  “You are already dead, Nilda.” The words had come to my mind unbidden. I’d muttered them to myself, but it seemed like I hadn’t been quiet enough.

  “What do you mean by that, Eizo?” she asked with a dejected expression.

  “Sorry! My bad,” I said. “Where I grew up, there’s a legend about a duel between two swordsmen. Before the duel begins, one of the swordsmen tosses aside his scabbard and his opponent taunts him with that line.”

  “You are already dead, Kojiro.” So Miyamoto Musashi had said to Sasaki Kojiro before their duel on Ganryujima.

  I went on to explain. “His opponent’s reasoning was, ‘A warrior who intends to be victorious would not throw away his scabbard, for he would need it after the duel.’”

  “Fascinating,” Nilda said appreciatively. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “It’s just folklore. You’re not dressed for battle, so there’s nowhere for you to tie the scabbard to anyway.” I shrugged. “Go ahead and test out a few swings. That’s what we’re here for.”

  “Got it.”

  Nilda lifted the katana fully overhead, the tip of the blade pointing behind her. Then, in one big motion, she swung the katana down sharply, as if she were trying to split the air itself.

  I can say with zero exaggeration that her form was truly exquisite. Her skin color, tattoos, and clothing notwithstanding, she was the embodiment of the samurai soul.

  I found myself breaking into a cold sweat. Based on what I had just seen, I wasn’t sure I could win against her.

  Helen had no difficulty defeating her?

  When Nilda had ambushed us on the road, she’d been using an inferior weapon that she wasn’t used to. Not to mention, we hadn’t actually exchanged blows. That was why I’d thought her movements were awkward. My combat skills (or whatever they were) hadn’t indicated anything different.

  I tried to keep my internal turmoil from affecting my voice as I called out to Nilda. “How is it?”

  However, she didn’t respond, just continued to run through her moveset without pause. She whipped the katana around in a sideways sweep, swung it quickly upward, and followed it all up with a few thrusts.

  Bathed in the light of dusk, she looked like a dancer sheathed in a golden veil. I was mesmerized by her movements and all the questions I had lined up died on my tongue.

  After a while, Nilda brought her dance to an end. I snapped out of my trance and shouted to her again. “How does the katana feel? If there’s anything that doesn’t feel right, I’ll fix it first thing in the morning.”

  But Nilda didn’t say anything this time either. She was shaking slightly where she stood, katana gripped in one hand. Then, she brought her head up slowly and looked right at me, her gaze intense and inscrutable.

  Damn... I messed up. I didn’t bring my knife. Since I used it to carve the scabbard, it must still be in the forge.

  I glanced at the door to the workshop. If Nilda attacked now, I’d have no choice but to make a break for the door and try to grab my knife. My number one priority was making sure she didn’t cut me down while I was defenseless.

  Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and my senses were operating on hyperdrive. But Nilda broke through my thoughts with a single shout that was loud enough to be heard from the heavens.

  “Brilliant!!!”

  Samya and the others came flying out to see what the commotion was, and Krul trotted out of her shed.

  Nilda coughed awkwardly when she noticed the company. Her face turned bright red, but she composed herself the best she could. “The sword is splendid.”

  “G-Good. Th-That’s good to hear,” I said, quietly breathing out a sigh of relief.

  Samya saw me and smirked. She could tell when people were rattled or emotional, so maybe she’d even sensed earlier how on edge I’d been.

  I had indeed underestimated Nilda, so I’d brought nothing with me to defend myself. But I pushed away the protests in my head—this was a time to reflect.

  Krul realized that there was nothing exciting happening, so she plodded back to her shed.

  The rest of us watched her go and then returned indoors.

  With the katana complete, there was no reason for Nilda to stay with us any longer. She announced that she would be leaving bright and early tomorrow morning, so I wanted to serve a more lavish meal in honor of her last day with us. I was personally disappointed that I didn’t have time to bake more bread for the meal, but I hoped the premium cuts of meat would make up for it.

  We chitchatted about this and that over dinner, and we all shared a few laughs at the rambling stories told around the table. Time passed leisurely. There was no rush to finish the meal since all there was left to do for the day was clean up and sleep.

  Toward the end of our meal, Nilda said, “I can’t thank you all enough for your hospitality.”

  “You’re our guest,” I replied lightly. “It was our pleasure.”

  “Nevertheless, thank you,” she said and rose from her seat. She stepped into the guest room and soon returned with a leather bag.

  “As a guest and client, I must remunerate you for everything you’ve done for me. How much is appropriate? Will thirty gold coins be enough?”

  “What? Oh, right.”

  I really must cure my indifference toward payment...

  “At our forge, we don’t have a set price for commissions,” I explained. “The payment is at the client’s discretion.” I chose to ignore the ludicrous number Nilda had thrown out.

  “Is that so? Those are lofty principles for a blacksmith,” Nilda remarked. “Shouldn’t you care a little more about profits, Eizo?”

  Rike and Diana nodded vigorously at Nilda’s words. Samya tilted her head slightly; it looked like she wasn’t quite following the discussion.

  “You came here because Helen demonstrated to you how elite our products are, no? A good reputation will lead to more business. Besides, commissions are valuable opportunities for me to polish and grow my craft.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Nilda conceded. She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push any further. Instead, she dipped her hand into her bag and withdrew a number of coins. “Will this do for payment?”

  She lined everything up on the table. All in all, there were ten gold coins and one small jewelstone. “This is what I consider to be fair compensation. Please accept it,” she said.

  Surprisingly, the gold pieces were ones that we used in this kingdom. I wondered if she’d prepared them knowing that she’d be doing trade with humans.

  The jewelstone was a rich red color, translucent, and about the size of a pinky nail. Was it a ruby? I couldn’t be sure since my installed knowledge didn’t come with a chapter on gems.

  I was fairly sure that I would be able to work with it using my cheats, but I knew nothing about what type of stone it was. When I held it up to the lamplight, I spied particles dancing within it.

  As I was inspecting the stone, Rike cut in and asked, “That’s a magical jewelstone, isn’t it?”

  “It’s magical?” I asked.

  Nilda answered, “It’s made from stagnant magical essence that has solidified. Stagnant magic is often the cause of monster spawns, but sometimes, it crystallizes without corrupting a living creature. When you shine a light on the jewelstone, you can see the trapped magical essence glimmering inside of it.”

  “Is this safe to keep?” I asked.

  “The magical essence is stable and will not leak once it has crystallized, though it’s regrettable that it can’t be extracted.”

  Diana listened calmly to Nilda’s explanation and then picked up the stone. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, undeniably. It’s a piece of rare beauty even within the demon kingdom,” Nilda boasted.

  Since the concentration of magical energy was higher in Nilda’s homeland, the jewelstone might not be so uncommon, and they clearly used them when trading with humans as well.

  “So that’s what it is,” I mused, taking the stone back from Diana and turning it around to get a closer look.

  “It is equivalent to forty gold at least,” Nilda added.

  I was taken aback.

  I knew it wasn’t going to be a cheap trinket, but I didn’t expect it to be worth that much!

  “It’s certainly valuable,” Rike added, “and its price may even rise more from here on out.”

  Nilda was offering to pay me fifty gold in total (or more!) for the katana.

  “Are you positive?” I asked.

  She smiled. “You were the one who told me to set my own price, and this,” she gestured at the riches laid out on the table, “is what this sword is worth to me.”

  I was at a momentary loss for words, but I soon picked myself back up and replied, “Then, I will accept your generosity.”

  “Please do.”

  We exchanged a smile and a toast in lieu of a handshake, clacking our cups together and downing what remained.

  ⌗⌗⌗

  The next morning, Nilda packed her belongings and prepared for her journey. Everyone in the family, including Krul, saw her off.

  “Head directly back to the demon kingdom,” I instructed. “I’d appreciate it if you could try to keep the katana sheathed until you’re over the border.”

  I’d accepted that she would have to use the sword sooner or later, but I would be grateful if she didn’t seek trouble unnecessarily. A small part of me wanted to tell her to avoid using it at all, even on the battlefield. But of course, that was unreasonable.

  “You know, since I used remember-me-not magic, there’s little chance of me being captured anytime soon,” Nilda said. “Anyone coming now would be a step too late anyway.”

  “I hope so. But just in case, head straight back to your kingdom. Don’t stray.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26