110 Master Bladesmith
A short and stout Drogar with rippling muscles and a large gut stood in front of an anvil. Although his facial spines were long and a little droopy, his scales were still taut on his body.
In one hand, he held a long bar with a glowing slab of tal at one end, which he laid down in the middle of the anvil. In his other hand was a small tal hamr that looked incredibly well-worn.
He adjusted the glowing slab and tapped it a couple of tis with his hamr. The mont he moved his hamr away, the assistant by his side brought his two-handed sledge down on the glowing slab.
As the assistant struck it, the bladesmith adjusted the slab back and forth, left and right, centiter by centiter. Sparks and flecks of blackened tal fell away with each and every hit.
And at the sa ti, he kept his assistant’s pace by tapping lightly on the anvil with his hamr.
The rhythm of their strikes resonated with each other and produced an earthy beat. The pings of tal hitting tal echoed all throughout the shop itself, and filled every corner.
As ti slowly drew on, the glowing slab dulled more and more, until the bright orange had reduced to sothing far duller. The bladesmith signaled his assistant to stop with a three-tap pattern, then lifted the slab up to inspect it.
He then made a few corrective strikes of his own then shoved it back into the forge behind him. A small display on the side showed the temperature, which he adjusted before he blasted the slab with absurd heat.
It only took monts for it to return to a bright glow.
.....
The bladesmith quickly brought it back to the anvil, where he directed his assistant to flatten it. The two of them worked together and slowly made the slab thinner and longer. And everyti it cooled down too much, the bladesmith would fire it back up again in his forge.
They repeated this until the whole thing was one long and relatively thin rectangle.
At which point, the two of them shaped and folded it over like a book, then cut it off from the rod it was attached to.
With a pair of heavy-duty tongs, the assistant grabbed another sheet of tal. It was equally as long as the folded one, and a little bit wider. He blasted this to a different temperature, and this too took only monts for it to glow.
The bladesmith attached the rod to the glowing sheet, then slid it in between the two folds. Once he was happy with the placent, he turned it on its side and started to hamr the three layers flat.
After he was good with the overall shape, he tapped the sheet, then the anvil twice. And this signaled his assistant to help him further flatten the sheet. And once again, the two of them worked together to smooth out the sheet and further refine the blade.
Their hamr pings echoed all throughout and continued their concerto in between blasts of heat.
And once they had produced the exact curved shape of a Drogar beltknife, the bladesmith stopped their collaboration and pored over the blade’s profile. As he did so, his assistant put down his striking sledge and went off to mix the next batch of blade tals.
After having looked over their work, the bladesmith fired up the blade once again, though he used a slightly lower temperature. It didn’t look quite as bright as before, but it didn’t need to.
All he did was hamr it lightly in various places as his only goal was to perfect the lines that were already there. Every strike he made was careful and precise and further refined the blade.
He only had to heat it up and strike it with his hamr a few more tis until he was satisfied.
When he was absolutely happy with it, he heated up the blade one more ti to a dull orange and cut off the rod that held it. He then smoothed what was left into the knife’s tang, then picked it up with the heavy tongs and pored over all of its lines.
Everything was in good shape – the curvature was almost at the right angle, the width and thickness tapered flawlessly, and the tal was ready to be ground down into a razor-sharp edge.
The only thing that was off was that it bent to the left ever so slightly. But that was to be expected.
Although it wasn’t glowing any longer, it was still incredibly hot to the touch and was still relatively soft. So he put it in between a long vice-grip and pressed the blade straight.
He left it to cool down for the rest of the cycle, then turned towards the four in the corner of his shop. They had been watching him and his assistant work for so ti with wide eyes and rapt attention.
His smile turned broad the mont he recognized the jade Drogar before him.
“Severas,” he said. “How’ve you been? Here to check on your fifth?”
“I’m good, Master Alevos,” she replied. “I don’t mind taking a look, but I’m here mostly because of these two humans. They were curious about beltknife craftsmanship, and thought about you.”
Alevos was taken slightly aback. These were the first humans he had ever seen in person. They didn’t look as fierce as he had been led to believe. In fact, they looked a little small to him.
“Humans, huh? So what’s the story there?”
“Ah, it’s a whole thing Retholis is into. I think he’s started to make his play.”
“You think he’s aiming for Imperator?”
Severas nodded solemnly.
“And I think he’s gonna succeed,” she said.
“That’ll definitely be a sight. He’s got so crazy opposition, no matter what though.”
“It’s fine as long as he doesn’t overreach.”
Alevos glanced at the two humans in his shop from the corner of his eye, and grinned.
“I think it’s too late for that,” he said. “So. What do you two humans think of my shop?”
“I think what you do is fascinating,” said Miko. “I do not know much about smithing, but your techniques appear very similar to ours.”
“Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you’re still using a hamr,” added Eva. “I an, don’t get wrong – what you’re doing is amazing. It just also looks incredibly difficult. I imagine you could just throw a bunch of ingredients in so machine and have it print out a knife. Certainly would make life easier on your shoulder there.”
Alevos laughed heartily. Sohow this human had noticed the kink in his hamring technique. He had used the sa technique hundreds of thousands of tis, and it wore down on his shoulder over ti.
Just as he wore down tal with every strike, so too did his own body.
“Well that’s certainly true,” he replied. “Printing weaponry is easy to do these days, heavens know. Even for big, complicated guns. Nanite printers make them easy to design and build. But there’s also no individuality to them. No soul.”
“Makes sense. Mass producing weapons for the battlefield isn’t the sa as designing a custom knife. But can’t you still make intricate designs and print them out?”
Alevos chortled with a little consternation.
“What a feisty little human,” he said. “To be honest a great many knifemakers do print out their designs. They’re certainly beautiful and unique. I can’t fight you there.”
“So why do it the clearly slow and hard and presumably more expensive way?”
The blademaster thought about it for a mont, and stroked the spines on his chin as he did so.
“Have either of you ever sharpened a blade of any kind?” he asked.
Eva and Miko shook their heads.
“Well, alright. Hmm. Have either of you ever done anything over and over again until you perfected that thing? Or at least ca as close as you possibly could?”
That was sothing Eva could imdiately relate to, and so she nodded. She was the type to constantly practice doing the things she was interested in. She recalled tis when she pushed her body to the limits as she ingrained certain moves and maneuvers into her muscles.
She used to feel a bit weird about it, since most everyone around her wasn’t as obsessive about practicing like that. But doing so truly refined her skills and made her a top notch pilot. Basically, she worked hard to be unbeatable, and she no longer felt weird about it.
Instead, she began to wonder why others didn’t go to such lengths themselves. Winning was easy – all it took was a mindless, obsessive ntality combined with relentless training and boundless determination.
“I’m changing my answer,” she said. “I definitely keep myself sharp. Constantly.”
Alevos grinned widely.
“Then you know why I do what I do,” he said. “Why I spend countless hours breaking myself just to shape tal. Why I choose to go the slow and hard and definitely more expensive way.”
Eva nodded with complete understanding.
“Your blades represent drive,” she said. “Of its owner, of its creator, of the Drogar as a whole.”
“Exactly! Sure, all those printed knives look great, and they do symbolize us Drogar. Heavens, I’ll even go so far as to say they’re necessary. Their affordability ans every single one of us can have one. After all, a Drogar without a blade is completely unfathomable.
“But for , those of us who pour ourselves into our blades – we help keep the soul of the Drogar deeply embedded within the tal itself. It’s our knives that well and truly define what a Drogar is, you know what I an?”
“I do, definitely,” Eva said resolutely. “Hell, I’m not a knife person, but even I would wear one of yours. Would you make one for ? Is it even possible for to own a Drogar knife?”
Being the arbiter of Drogar law, Severas imdiately jumped in.
“It’s not illegal,” she said, “or at least, there aren’t any laws that forbid you from ordering and owning a custom beltknife. But I’m sure many will find offense to a human wielding one of our blades. A few might even co to the conclusion that you killed a Drogar for it, and try to right that perceived wrong. I don’t suggest you get one. It will most definitely invite trouble.”
“What if it was straight?” Eva countered. “Since every Drogar carries a curved one, then they couldn’t automatically assu that what I’m wearing is a beltknife, right? Last thing I wanna do is offend anyone, especially when I’m trying to honor your traditions instead.”
This struck a chord in Severas. To think that a human wanted to honor Drogar culture. She had certainly never heard of this before.
“You really want a beltknife, huh?” she asked.
“It really speaks to ,” Eva answered.
“Alright, before I say yes to anyone,” said Alevos, “I need to know how you’re gonna pay for it.”
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