The Empress

I

   "Have you herd of the Antarctic Empire?"

   The soft voice had startled you a bit, too used to the clank and ring of your hammer bouncing off the anvil.  You spared him a glance to show you were aware of his presence.  The question hung in the air as your father slowly shuffled through the door, the limp in his step evident. You hummed in agreement, not taking your eyes off the anvil before you, not wishing to burn yourself or ruin your work.
  
   The Empire was the largest and most well known. Many of the people that resided there were labeled as "dangerous". To this day the rumors stood that the country was built upon bloodshed. Their leader, the Emperor, was the one everyone feared the very most. The glowing blade in your hand weighed heavy, keeping you mindful as you stuck the heated metal. The sheer warmth radiating from your craft had sweat beads running down your forehead, causing stray hairs to cling to your face.

   "To be fair I believe everyone has nowadays" you hit the blade again, with a stasifying "Clink" causing sparks to fly off in every direction. You worked the metal with ease, almost as if was made of clay, bending it to where you pleased.

   The elder man's eyes flickered between You, and the blade. The heat from the blade, and the flames from the the forge, caused a warm atmosphere, Light dancing everywhere on the stone walls, Illuminating your face  as it contorted into a thought. "Why do you ask?" You inquired, pausing your hits on the blade as to not miss hit or possibly hit a finger. You lifted your head with a sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow, facing your father.

   "The Generals have sent a request to every small village black smith." The man ran a aged hand over his beard, as he paused, slowly sitting on a discarded stool. No longer able to stand long due to his pain. "They would like a fine blade. Handcrafted out of the best material we have access to" he cleared his throat, you could tell he was weary of informing you. "If you choose to offer a blade, you will be payed handsomely, they so said, but on the condition that its hand delivered"

   ah yes, there's the catch.

   Your face contorted briefly, "hand delivered? Are they crazy? They live in the middle of an ice cube" you scoffed. Even if the idea of good pay interested you, Your father was respectfully definitely out of commission for work. After the raid that terrorized your small village, many of the men from your village were left injured, some beyond repair. Your father, although luckily alive, was one of the suvivors left with permanent damage. "Why don't they ask their own smiths to craft them one" you placed the blade down fully, walking to a stool by your father, figuring this is a good enough time to take a break.

   He hummed amused "well word is they don't have the resources to make said weapons, sure iron maybe, but there looking for something much stronger". Everyone knew Diamonds were the best material you could have, however you were not from Africa, so diamonds were not as lucky. You watched him, your father wouldn't have brought this up for no reason.

   "Right" you paused trying to think of a way to ask the meaning of this conversation, ultimately just choosing to be blunt.  "Why bring this up?".

   Your father rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit he possessed. " (y/n) you have a gift. No matter what material your given, you pour your heart and your strength into it. Your blades are nothing short of amazing". Pride filled your heart at his words, praise from him meant the world to you. Where your mother praised your work daily, even if she found your craft boy-ish, your fathers praise was rare. Only voicing it when you did something truly magnificent. "I was hoping you would craft a blade and deliver it. If not for your name, do it for mine. The money would really help us." His eyes were kinder, somewhat pleading.

   "You... want me to enter a blade...?" You worded it carefully. Thinking on what he said. He gave a simple nod as a response. "You don't seriously mean..." his face in that moment said it all. He wanted you to, you didn't have to, but it was obvious the nudge was present.  "Do I have time to think about it?" Your father nodded again.

   "I'll show you the letter, your choice doesn't have to be now. However, since you are of age you can freely travel, so I thought maybe it would interest you. Since young girls seem to have a knack for adventure. Again, if you do not choose to I understand." He rested a steady hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

___

   The talk with your father had your mind restless for the next two weeks to come. After reviewing the letter, you were able to determine they would pay you to bring your crafted weapon. If your blade was made well enough they also would buy it off you for a large sum. You were torn. the money would greatly help your parents, not only that but, your village was near desolate. Depending on the sum given the money could go towards buildings and repairs. However, if you stayed you wouldn't have to leave your parents, and have to battle the climates to get your weapon there. after all that was the biggest problem you were facing. 

   Soon you made your mind up, you would craft a blade. You would craft the best blade they had ever laid their eyes on. You gathered your materials, and what you deemed fit, Diamonds and Netherite. You had come across Netherite when trading for materials. The gentleman you bought them off said it was a strong material if used properly. However, he was never able to find the correct use for the strange material. Luckily a mistake you made ages ago with testing, turned out to be the correct mixture needed to make Netherite what it was claimed to be. For what you were aware, no one used Netherite the way you intended to, you genuinely hoped that your new material would prove useful, and as strong as the man had claimed.

   At that you had pushed yourself and got to work. putting your literal blood, sweat, and occasional tears into this blade.

___

   The shear weeks trying to prefect this monster of a sword had definitely taken a toll. you were tired, yet you still had to prep and ready yourself for your long aching trip to the empire. with the blade finished, it was a pure work of art at that. The blade itself was black, the glittering of purple and a pearlescent blue danced within the light when you moved it. The hilt was just as sturdy as the blade, the handle wasn't uncomfortable, but instead wrapped in leather and ensured for the possible long term use. You were proud. 

   You put the sword into the sheath,  carefully wrapping it up in a cloth to insure it will not be damaged durring the trip. from then you moved to packing. you packed clothes, and heavy ones at that, then little other things you think you may need. you genuinely had no idea how long this trip would take. 

   After talking to a nearby harbor you were able to secure a ride to the empire, with the payment of labor. so when you were ready for your trip, you lovingly said your goodbyes to your neighbors, and your parents. Your father had a hard time saying goodbye, but he also knew you would make him so very proud, with everything now set in stone you were on your way to the Antarctic Empire.