"Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character."
- Albert Einstein

✧

The Master was one of stocky build, with bulging arms and a steady body. He was mostly shirtless due to the scorching heat of the forge, only bothering to wear a pair of shorts equipped with a heavy utility belt holding many tools and gadgets. Hammer slung on his waist, the dwarf grinned as he shot out of the door to hug Cordelia's waist; it was not to be. Kuro deftly intercepted the flying blob, catching him in her hands which were outstretched far from herself, to prevent his grime and dirt rubbing on her pristine clothing. She abhorred messiness, a habit she inherited from her mistress.

"Aiy! Let meh down, you female ogre!"

Maybe it was befitting to call the maid an 'ogre'. Her strength was monstrous for her petite frame, the result of training in mana manipulation. It was a basic skill which everyone had access to. One could lace their body with mana to strengthen it and is one of the first skills you learn as a mage or warrior. This was necessary for Kuro who regularly pulsed her mana into her surroundings to gain clarity without her eyes; if done haphazardly, she would probably go into shock from the information overload.

After exchanging greetings and questions, the Master led the visitors into his abode. In an instant, Cordelia and Kuro felt their faces being blasted with sweltering currents of air. Circulating the mana through their veins, the Duke and her maid protected themselves from the heat and walked forward unfazed. A thin membrane of cerulean aura covered the surface of their bodies. The Master and Charles, on the other hand, seemed as if the heat was nothing to them. Years of hard work in the forge had allowed the young apprentice to adapt to the heat while the Master was a dwarf; his affinity with the flame naturally protected him against the element. 

Strange contraptions and metalware littered the floor. Some had been there for a long time and others were knocked to the floor from the shelves by the Master in his rush to get to the door. One could call him heartless since dwarves often treated their creations as their own children. However, the Master did not care about that. He wanted to improve. To forge on ahead. To blaze a trail for others to follow. Reminiscing on old, flawed articles would only hinder his progress. Focus on the present, look forward to the future. 

Cordelia found it ironic that the dwarf had broken that creed, even just this once, in the months coming up to this day. She could not imagine the sheer effort, materials and dedication required to create her new weapon. She had commissioned the katana three years ago when she was only ten years old but the metals needed were out of their reach. So she expanded. Conquered. Killed. Countless monsters had fallen before her irresolute blade, shaking in her hand.

Knowing that she couldn't overcome this any time soon, she simply powered through. Her knights and military instead took her place. She now sat on a chair in front of a map, moving small figures of valiant soldiers and outwitting the opposing commander with intelligence instead of standing on the frontlines, feeling the blood splatter onto her delicate, pale face. It was such a radical role-reversal really. So much so that her instincts had rusted. 

There was no better training than fighting on the battlefield but that wasn't possible for her anymore. Every time Cordelia trained normally, she felt that there was no satisfaction or fulfilment in the monotonous regimen. Having confided in her brother about this, she settled with the solution he gave to her; attend Praestantia Academy. Hailed as the world's greatest educational institution, it held an immeasurable position in the minds of other powers. Entire nations made concessions to the academy just to obtain their favour and made it their priority to maintain good relations with them. Cordelia had thought about the pros and cons of attending. 

'Many people of high position in the Escadan Empire are alumni from Praestantia Academy and wield power unimaginable to the masses. The debt that they have to pay to the academy is immeasurable. It is not just out of obligation but also sincere gratitude.'

The opportunities that the Praestantia Academy provided to their students allowed for incredible leaps in power and experience, causing all graduates to be several leagues above their peers outside the academy. Eventually, these graduates would then go on to make huge waves in the world. Whether it be establishing a nation, organisation or just going back to their roots and supporting their homeland, no move went unnoticed. It was no wonder that they'd feel compelled to repay this.

The minimum age to apply for the Praestantia Academy was ten years old, and Cordelia was currently thirteen. With the entrance exam arriving in the coming months, she knew that there was a necessity for preparation. New gear and equipment, like the katana before her, was part of that.

Sleek. Elegant. Deadly. Any of those words could be used to describe a katana, the trademark weapon of the eastern islands. However, Cordelia felt that she had never seen any other sword more representative of those values than this. Despite being sheathed in its saya¹A sheathe or scabbard for a katana, there was no mistaking the subtle waves of power emanating from the blade. Even when contained in a scabbard created from the wood of a World Ent, the air continued to tremble in its vicinity. But...

'This is nothing compared to the Honjo Masamune²One of the most legendary katanas to exist in Japan; forged by Masamune, reputed as Japan's greatest swordsmith.'

The Master saw the faint disappointment in her eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking. He couldn't even retort or be angry at her because he himself had seen the legendary weapon with his own eyes. And he knew that he wouldn't be able to recreate the same results, or even come close to that level. A naive owner could destroy themselves just by swinging the Honjo Masamune. Cordelia had managed to explosively increase her power by using the weapon in combat. While sheathed. 

Having said to be crafted by the man known as Masamune, an elusive and mythical swordsmith, it was his greatest and most cursed work. Any who laid hands on the blade would die an early death after revelling in the power granted to them. The late Duke Auster was not exempt from this either. So, was that why Cordelia decided to craft a new weapon in place of the Honjo Masamune, to avoid the sword's curse? 

Of course not. She was not afraid of death.

'If it means I can take ŗ̸͈̞̣̰̤̯̅͑̀̎̿̑̾̕ͅę̷̺̥̝͕̙͎̫̱͍̞̘͈̯̈͊͛̓̒̏̈̚͜͝v̴̨̪̥̞̼̳͓̱̣̼̭͖͎̭͚͊͐̅͊͝ȩ̴̰̤̗̬̖̰̼͚̎ǹ̸̝̅̊̀̕g̴̰̗̭̜̙̠̙͕͙͈͈̺̞͐̐͋̓̋̄͗e̸̛̩̖̻̣͎̘͙̱̟̳̝͑͑͑̾́̑̈́̀͗͑̑̓͠, I would do anything.'

Solemnly staring at his own hands, the Master pondered if this was the right choice. The girl's closest confidantes knew her goals, aspirations and determination, including himself. Many a time during the forging process did that Master have doubts about what he was doing. Furthering his lord's progress towards this self-destructive goal was one thing, but trying to stop her after everything she had gone through to get to this point didn't sit well with him. So he pushed on, swatting aside the hesitation in his hammer swings. 

Honjo Masamune was too powerful for Cordelia to wield properly. A replacement was required. 

"This is the final product, lass. Whadhya think? I call it Mikazuki, meaning Crescent Moon. It's reminiscent of..."

He went on a ramble about the techniques he drilled into the sword, the days he agonised over the name and the slow development of his bond with the weapon. Appreciative of his efforts, she listened without complaint. It was the least she could do for him, after all.

"...and that's about it. Why don't ya test it out now, lass?"

Nodding furtively, Cordelia slowly strolled up to the weapon perched on its stand. Before even touching it, she admired its craftsmanship. Every step had been attended to by the Master, with no outsiders interfering. In every sense of the word, Mikazuki was his child. It could be seen in the beautifully complex tsuka³Handle of a katana, meticulously wrapped in a perfect cross pattern, designed for both aesthetic and comfort purposes. Clashing melodiously with it was the simplistic yet durable tsuba⁴Hand guard of a katana, coated with a sheen of black. To top it all off, the saya was lacquered with the same shade of noir, glinting against the fires of the forge. At first glance, Mikazuki was just a black-themed katana; there was nothing special. 

'Master said that the blade was 84.5 centimetres... or 33 inches. It's a bit big for me but I'll grow into it eventually. As if the Master would present me with such an inferior katana.'

The love he had for Mikazuki was obvious.

She carefully wrapped her jade-like fingers around the smooth surface of the saya and tsuka before decisively pulling the blade out. As if recognising its power, the atmosphere stilled for a moment before gushing outwards with overwhelming force. Armaments couldn't be created in a short amount of time. It needed weeks at minimum just for the weapon to absorb the ambient mana; Mikazuki had been doing so for almost a year now. This was the first time that the sword had been unsheathed in its full glory, nearly bursting at the seams with power.

It took a few more seconds for everything to calm down, with more objects falling from their shelves due to the wind flow. Stroking his beard, the Master analysed his newest creation with a critical eye. Any hint of frivolity was gone now, his instincts as a dwarven blacksmith kicking in. He wasn't a swordsman so he didn't have the ability to draw the blade without any backlash. Having been around the young female Duke for a long time now, he was able to custom tailor Mikazuki to her. The synergy between them would only strengthen the more she used it.

The young Duke could always go outside and buy an Armament that had been sitting idly, absorbing mana for far longer than Mikazuki, but the fact was that she had regularly supplied this weapon with her own mana. No other weapon could bond with her so well, as well as the fact that the market for katanas in the continent was feeble at minimum. Her style didn't fit any other weapon.

All discontent Cordelia previously harboured vanished as morbid expectation and greed temporarily flooded her body before she regained control of herself. 

'Stay in control. I almost lost myself again...'

Her eyes once again turned cold, restraining all semblance of emotion. Taking this as dissatisfaction with his weapon, the Master frowned slightly. Even if he held great affection for her as a daughter, it didn't feel good to be criticised. As if sensing his sadness, Cordelia opened her mouth.

"I'm amazed, Master. I can't think of any other sword that would fit me more than this right now."

Hard sincerity laced her monotone voice, pleasing the dwarf greatly.

"Un, un! It's very good yeah, lass?"

Nodding in assent, he grinned so widely that it seemed like his cheeks would hurt. Just as criticism would hurt, compliments could heal one's heart, especially from one as perfunctory and austere as Cordelia Auster.

After a long and lengthy bout of small talk that lasted hours, the two parted with the blacksmiths on a good yet rather sombre note. To be specific, the Master himself was slightly reluctant to let Mikazuki, his prized child, to leave but in the end, he could only wave at the carriage while sniffing. It was only until then that Charles' timid personality transformed into that of a stubborn, nagging mother. 

"Master, you can't look so scruffy in front of Her Grace and Miss Kuro! Damn oaf, do you know the lengths I go to for you!"

The Master, being the hammer-crazed dwarf he was, was hopeless in all other aspects, especially housework.

'Ah, I'm truly fortunate to have come across this apprentice of mine.' Was what he thought while being relentlessly scolded for the messiness of the forge. The boy, in his distress, forgot that he committed the same crime on his way to the door.

2069 words
Written 12/08/2020 (DD/MM/2020)

vaexis

I'm going to focus a lot more on quality than quantity, so updates will be sparse. I'll try my hardest to update once per 3-4 days but sometimes, writer's block can be a bitch (and procrastination too, hehe).

I've noticed that my early chapters are filled with lots of boring exposition and chunks of somewhat forced world-building. I apologise for that but please continue to trek on. I promise that later on, the pace will get faster and there will be progression. I just want to hammer down the setting in the Escadan Empire before moving onto the Academy.

• added the origin of those quotes at the start of every chapter because I'd feel disingenuous if I didn't
• uh, remind me if I forgot anything else