Allan placed the hard, flat piece of metal across the stone slab, which is prepared for this process. Checking for any possible errors, his ear and face were a few centimeters from its surface as he placed the sword on top. He was using his hand, fingers, and thin wire for any cracks or anything in-between.

 

It was his idea to begin with the whole process of forging, so he had to figure out the methods to make everything work as best as he could. This is one of the ideas that he came up with.

 

Fortunately, there were no issues. At least he did not find any with a couple of minutes of handling the flat, long metal with his palm and fingers.

 

He turned from the slab that was placed in the middle of the forge, right toward the table opposite the furnace. The table had a wooden piece for the handle. With no sharpening station, he could only work with his hand. Carving it with tools and checking if it was smooth and right as he wanted. He cut it in half with a saw blade and worked with each half by hand. Carving a place for the blade itself.

 

In a matter of around 15 minutes, he was finished with what he wanted. It was not perfect by any means while being slightly bumpy. Not as smooth as he wished. There was also sap from Candeance Trees, which was recommended by the merchants to use as an adhesive material. Allan chose the leather strips to go along the handle, so the unevenness and style would not be noticeable. They would provide excellent adhesive properties and keep the blade in order.

 

Of course, there was one very important thing left, and that was the sharpening of the blade itself. With the handle done and the blade ready, Allan moved towards the whetstone part of the table. There, he had a set of whetstone selected by the experience and requirements of merchants' standards.

 

Zigmund made sure everything would work out. In truth, Allan would be a better choice to decide what he wished for, but he had plenty of his own problems, so he kept everything up to Zigmund. Who, in return, kept everything up to the Rengiward. Who knows if he had any other kind of business to order someone to do the same thing as Zigmund, but that is not important.

 

Allan placed each whetstone from harder to softer textures. It went easy since he always used to touch the whetstones by hand. Their textures could sometimes be hard to distinguish with the eyes alone.

 

“Well, it will work. Somehow...” He muttered and tried to go with the middle ones. He moved the blade according to what he remembered.

 

He was close with his fingers, so he felt every millimeter of error.

 

After what seemed like an eternity for him, only 20 minutes passed until he was finished with the rough sharpening. The blade was now shining in his hand. With a lot of dust behind. This whetstone, being fresh, caused this work to be quite fast. Blacksmiths would have to replace them regularly since sharpening is one of the most important forging techniques for a good blade.

 

In excellent shape.

 

It was slightly curved at the tip, with a narrower part at the handle. Before, it was not like this. It was the sharpening that changed the structure and made the tip, edge, and whole design much better. Almost every blacksmith he knew used this style. It was double-edged in the tip as well. It could be used for stabbing and slashing, respectively.

 

Allan added the handle in a matter of a few minutes. Sarey couldn't help but marvel at his insane pace. A few hours passed, yet he was finished.

 

“Flawless, isn't it?” He said the first question since the beginning of his work. Smugly, and in satisfaction after a lot of checking and carefulness.

 

“It looks quite stunning. I never thought the shininess comes from the sharpening. I assumed it was from the metal itself.” Sarey said, after moving closer to Allan's table. By now, the furnace was not as hot, and she wanted to see everything at the end of Allan's work.

 

“That is not wrong. Sharpening is the removal of metal. It leaves the texture of the forged metal open and it could change the appearance quite significantly. It is essentially the metal itself, but it is polished, to make it shiny and sharp.” Allan explained.

 

 

He slashed the blade across the empty space. Back and forth. It went with grace and swiftness. The handle was wrapped in leather strips nicely and well. No guard, with a blade and handle.

 

“How about it? Will Zigmund find it to his satisfaction?” He asked in wonder.

 

“I would say so. Why not ask him himself, am I right, father?” She raised her voice into the distant window.

 

“Well. what can I say? I paid for this so I should watch as well. Am I in a wrong?” Zigmund's head appeared around the corner.

 

“Oh, I don't mind this at all, sir. I like this forge very much.”

 

“Are you sure you are just a kid? There is no way I would assume you are at least 16 years old. You don't look like one as well.” Zigmund argues.

 

“I don't know what I look like now. I grew up a little, I guess, but not much feels different.” Allan casually replied.

 

“He is a healthy young man. He put some work on himself in the past dozen or so days, so don't spout this nonsense.” Sarey walked to her father and told him the facts straight in his face.

 

“Dozen? Heh!” Zigmund cursed inside his mind. He would not forget the things he went through during his youth training in the army. It took him years to get into his prime condition.

 

“Anyways!” He jumped into the stable through the window and walked towards Allam. He was wearing his beloved uniform from yesterday.

 

His sword was around the hip as well.

 

“Can I take a look?” He asked with little regard for his daughter's words.

 

“Sure.” Allan put the blade handle facing Zigmund's voice. He took it into his hand and examined the quality and feel.

 

“Where is this design from?”

 

“My head.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Not really. My father taught me a lot of subjects about swords and weapons. All sorts of cultures depended on different kinds of weapons. Swords, sabers, pole arms, axes, spears, hammers, and so on. One couldn't remember it all.”

 

“I see. It has an excellent feeling. More so than a regular straight blade. I wonder if it will suffer some damages, through the design you've chosen.” Zigmund assessed the newly made blade with his knowledge and experience.

 

“That is usually the case. Thickness and metals used are usually the main things that could determine the sturdiness. The curves have not many issues with the sturdiness, mister Zigmund. There is also a part of the users where the use of the blade could determine the damages. You can't chop a tree with this blade, while the ax can.” Allan explained to Zigmund.

 

He knew a lot more about this than that but was unwilling to tell it all.

 

“Then what if the user does not know about the truth of these designs and they will buy one?”

 

“That depends on the one who uses it. Why should I know that, or care about that?”

 

“Hah! You are truly a son of an excellent blacksmith. These are the words I would expect.” Zigmund said in satisfaction.

 

“Although, it has some limitations with this design. It could be sold anywhere, I guess. But it has limited uses in our region. It is not much of a war blade or anything which could go against heavier weapons.”

 

“Are heavier weapons more common here?” Allan asked, in curiosity.

 

“Quite a bit. There was a beast outbreak a couple of hundred years ago, which caused some places to be in danger of destruction. Since then, reliable weapons are things that everyone needs.”

 

“Beast outbreak?” Allan finds it quite alarming. He never heard of what would a beast outbreak be like.

 

“Yes, I know... You don't really know much about our place. I will have a deep conversation with you one day about yours and our world. I hope you won't refuse before that.”

 

Before Allan opened his mouth, he was stopped by Sarey's voice.

 

“Don't be forced by him, Allan. You don't have to if you feel like it.”

 

Allan fell speechless amidst this sudden conflict. He was skeptical about sharing too much or too little. It would perhaps not hurt him to speak about the Grusha kingdom and surrounding regions as well. But... at the same time, he could not help but feel hesitant, for whatever the case was.

 

“One day. I still have plenty of other problems that I want to take care of.” He said apologetically.

 

“Fine, take this then.” Zigmund tossed the sword toward Allan and unsheathed his own.

 

“Let me test it myself.”

 

“Oh!” Allan struggled to catch the blade. He managed it, but barely with his hands.

 

Before he knew it, a breeze fell on his skin.

 

“Defend!” Zigmund shouted as he saw Allan was too slow.

 

He swung his blade towards his torso diagonally.

 

Allan put the best defense he could, taking the sword toward the crisscrossed hand and using his whole body behind the blade. He could feel the pressure that pushed him outside of the stable. Into a direction, he couldn't tell.

 

 

His feet were still on the ground, but not inside of the forge. Zigmund hit him in a skilled manner to push him outside through the pushed door. His posture survived the blow, but his right hand, which was handling his sword, was a little numb.

 

“Damn impressive. You know some techniques yourself.” Zigmund walked through the door.

 

“I think this is completely unnecessary. Can't this practice wait a bit? Even using the actual sword is a bit too much.” Allan said to Zigmund, with a pained expression.

 

“What composure! I hit him dead on with my sword, yet he took it this calmly? This is a monster in disguise or genius on a par with my elder brother.” Zigmund thought to himself.

 

Suddenly, Zigmund felt pain in his feet and jumped forward.

 

Sarey, with an angry face, appeared behind his back. She successfully attacked his ankle in anger.

 

“What! Are! You! Thinking!?” she said each word with seriousness.

 

“A practice? What do you mean?” her father unapologetically answers with a question.

 

“Using a real sword? That is quite against your principles. Don't you think?”

 

Seeing her angry like that, Zigmund had no choice but to back off from this argument.

 

“I stand by this. Fine then. No real swords, but we will come back to his Allan. Whenever you will gain back your eyes or not, my spar is not something that Sarey will stand against.” Zigmund said and walked towards his house and sit in front of it.

 

“Come whenever you are prepared. I will be waiting here.” He told clearly with crossed arms.

 

Allan did not know what to do. His hands were still in a little shock and numbness feeling.

 

“Zigmund probably did not hold back much.” he guessed.

 

“Heh. See?” Allan pointed the sword in ZIgmund's direction. It was intact and straight as before.

 

Zigmund remained his frown, not speaking much at all, but his insides were chucking in surprise. He wanted to test the blade's sturdiness, so he did not hold back as much. It was all in a state of emotions, as well as wanting to test Allan a little. Although he was a little harsh this time.

 

Truthfully, it was more about the use of Allan's stance. It was very effective in the attack on Zigmund, and he was aware of it as well.

 

“What kind of sword are you using, mister Zigmund?”

 

“My sword.” He said in seriousness.

 

“May I take a look?” Allan asked, with no concern.

 

“Hmph! Sure.” He agreed and tossed it to the ground beside Allan.

 

Picking it up through the motion of the thud, he immediately noticed the quality of the blade. It was terrible, yet the attacks were quite fierce. It felt uneven and heavy. He checked the surface and felt some insignificant cracks and chops around the edge. It went through a lot, so it probably was not fair to assume its quality.

 

He sniffed it and touched it a lot. Zigmund was feeling a little weird from watching him.

 

“Thank you,” Allan said and tossed it back to Zigmund.

 

He left back to his forgery with no other words.

 

Sarey, still with her angry face, slammed the door back into its sockets and went inside.

Zigmund retrieved his blade and sighed.

 

“That was foolish of me. I guess there will become a time when that boy will defeat me after all. Unless he will spend all his time on forging.”

 

“What a lad. I watched him make that blade in a matter of hours. Does he not understand how long it takes to make quality blades with custom properties in a decent blacksmithing shop? I bet his standards are that of his father. Like son, like a father.” Zigmund sight to himself, as he leaned on the ground in front of his house.

 

A rather old, yet exciting retirement time of his, was destroyed in an instant, but for some reason, he did not mind it as much as he thought.