Protector from Afar ✔️

Chapter 39 - Emotional

 Chapter 39
Emotional

"First-class blacksmithing," said the blacksmith, holding my sword at eye level. "I've never seen this kind of steel before. Which swordsmith did ya have it made by?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer you. This tachi is older than me, my father commissioned it back then." I raised my shoulders apologetically.

The blacksmith was a man built up from years of hard work. When I entered his workshop this morning, he hit a white-hot workpiece with his hammer so hard that orange-red sparks sprayed and the anvil sank a good hand's breadth into the ground. He let loose a torrent of swear words that I would have loved to understand. It was only when he was done fixing the anvil and wiping the sweat from his wrinkled face that he noticed me. To match his fearsome appearance, he had a growling and rough voice, as if he had started smoking and drinking at the age of twelve and had never stopped since. Well, given his profession, that was quite possible.

And yet there was a sparkle in his small eyes, as if he had discovered a treasure in my tachi.

The blacksmith lowered my sword and looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not from here, are ya?"

I sighed inwardly, but didn't let it come to the surface. "I've... come a long way."

"Not many foreigners come here." The last words faded away. "May I?" The blacksmith adjusted my sword in his massive paw, I nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling. He made two sharp blows, it hissed as if he were cutting through the air. He hummed with satisfaction.

I pulled a small bag out of my shirt, the strings pressing uncomfortably into my skin. "How much does it cost to give it a good polish, you say?" I opened the bag and something fell clattering to the floor. I picked it up, sand had found its way into the grooves of the royal emblem.

The emblem of the royal family: An oval metal plate, decorated with floral ornaments and in the middle a strange animal with two heads and too many legs.

On the fifth day, yesterday, Tscheli had given it to me, along with a bag full of gold coins, with which I should be able to pay. There were houses and shops around the palace, and judging by the people's clothing, only the upper class lived and shopped here.

The blacksmith made a strange noise. "I'll get to work right away," he said and sat down with my tachi at an unusually small grindstone. With his foot he operated a pedal that set the stone in motion. He worked quickly and with great concentration.

My eyes wandered through the workshop. Several swords in all possible designs and shapes hung on the walls. Daggers and knives lay on tables. Tables, shelves and benches were lined up next to each other, not a single centimeter was left unused. Tools such as pliers, hammers and even nails were lying around everywhere, and yet it still seemed tidy. If it weren't for the furnaces that radiated immense heat, this could pass as an ordinary hobby room.

But there was magic and a hint of danger in the air.

Cleaned, sharpened and polished, I held my sword in my hand again. It shone like brand new. I had doubts about taking it to a blacksmith, as a tachi requires special care. But any doubts vanished when the blacksmith said: "Ha! This is a sword like they have in Nippon!"

When I asked him how much he got for it, he vehemently refused to be paid. It must have something to do with the emblem.

I grinned. "Well, but you won't deny me a little test, huh?"