”I will return in an hour or so before we make our way to Kugane. There is a swordsmith I intend to pay my respects to.”The morning that they had set out to Kugane, that was all Izayoi had told the remainder the party before leaving the inn, her traveling cloak and straw hat donned. And that was all she’d intended to do. So why then, had one among their number followed her?
”Is there an issue?” Izayoi raised one eyebrow coolly in Rudolf’s direction, having noticed him trailing behind her as they walked.
”You’ve yet to explain why you wish to see a northern swordsmith so badly, despite the fact that you use none of our blades.”He hid his grimace, only refuge being dignity after she’d noted the tail this quickly. Regrettable time to try and mimic the way their SEED operative moved through the streets, as opposed to his more familiar brush or grass.
His pulse ratcheted up a single notch— and not more. Incredibly, it felt like the week’s travel had seen him begin to get used to her and her measuring gaze. Last month, saying that about Ranbu no Izayoi was unimaginable.
Just begin, though— his heart had made a point not to quicken, but it still felt like the hammer of a heavy church bell in his chest. He cleared his throat.
“None from me,” he replied after that moment, slowly accelerating his pace to draw just behind as they continued. Serve a half truth here? It could get her off his back. He was all about that idea.
“I’m meaning to familiarize myself with the area. If we split, for whatever reason, it’ll serve us if more people can navigate, understand the surroundings, so on.”The mention of their differing armaments drew his eyes to the long and short blades at the samurai’s hip, heavy with the stench of iron and smoke. Thirsty things, all the moreso
here and now. They lingered there a moment.
Daisho Pair, if his memory served him…
He made a decision, and met her eyes again.
“…As well, I come from a village of swordsmen myself. If there’s a swordsmith someone like you would go out of their way for, then I have certain matters I’d like to petition his insight on, if I can. Some riddles in the steel I carry that’ve stumped Edren pretty thoroughly. The different perspective could be a windfall.”It’d probably be churlish to mention the idea that arriving in tandem with her was probably set to give him much better odds at being heard out at all, with the previous near-kerfuffle regarding Robin and the Shinobi Escort still fresh in his mind.
“If it’d be an intrusion, I can wait around outside until your respects are paid in full.””Do what you will. I’ll not take long.” Izayoi replied after a moment. She was hardly going to protest a member of the party seeking to make himself more effective.
”And word it the same way. Kurogane enjoys having his ego stroked.”Eventually, several minutes’ walking east of the village led them to a small smithy and attached home, its fires unlit. Izayoi frowned at the lack of smoke before marching up to knock on the house’s door. No response. She scowled. She knocked again, this time more insistently.
“Gods damn you, what do you jackals want now-” A squat, wizened old man easily no younger than seventy slammed the door open with a snarl, only to pause and blink as he beheld Izayoi. After a moment, he snorted.
“You a ghost here to lead me to the next life, girl? Was hoping for m’wife, really.”
”Hello, Kurogane.” Izayoi nodded curtly. He really hadn’t changed, after all. Her sheathed sword came out of its belt, Izayoi cracking the steel out just an inch for him to examine one of his own masterworks.
“Kept it in decent condition, at least. So what’s a dead woman want with this old bastard?”
”Merely to pay my respects while I still can. I owe you that much, at least.”“So you do,” Kurogane grunted. “Would’ve been better if you’d actually won the war with it, but I wasn’t asking for miracles.” His gaze shifted over her shoulder. “Who’s the foreigner?”
He stiffened for a moment, then stepped forward. The frosty reception was only to be expected, a fresh-faced warrior from a faraway land— but the blunt manner of a master craftsman was the same everywhere, no matter calling, creed, or culture. The familiarity was a comfort for his skittish soul.
“My name is Rudolf, I’m a swordsman hailing from Sagramore village.” he inclined his head with respect, but didn’t linger. These types may have sometimes liked praise, but to a man they hated an effusive beggar. Best to be straightforward with your business.
“I’m one of Miss Izayoi’s traveling companions on her current mission— When she told us she was making time for meeting you, I believed it’d be in my best interests to tag along. I’d be remiss to pass up a chance to speak with a swordsmith someone of her caliber holds in that high a regard.” His introductions given, he stepped off to the side, gesturing to the Mystrel that the man wished had won glory over his home. Strange, strange feeling, knowing but now seeing it in front of you, hearing it outright… But that, very pointedly, was
not Rudolf Sagramore’s war. He’d enjoyed nothing of the bounties of that victory. If anything, the opposite.
“I’ll ask my questions once you guys are finished.”No, runt. a cold voice retorted inside his head.
You had plenty of country to run amok in. You think Daddy kicking you out changes that? You want to tell her, him, or the hare that little opinion? I’m sure they’d loooooooove a self-centered Edrenian—Quiet. Don’t you dare.—to rip apart.“Edreni?” Kurogane raised an eyebrow, looking at Izayoi before shrugging. “Well, you can’t be all bad if she’s not split you head to toe yet. I’ll see to you in a moment, then. Girl, you here for the same as usual?”
Izayoi only nodded at this, following the smith inside and beckoning for Rudolf to join them as well.
“Mn. Too bad. The Black Helms took it.” Kurogane gestured to the top of his mantle, where a mounting for a sword was present…but with no sword.
”Valheimr soldiers?” Izayoi said after a moment of shocked silence.
”When?”“Near a year ago. They came to collect taxes. Their commander knew their steel well enough to see an artifact above all others being held on my fucking mantle. So the bastards took it.” He reached for a pipe, starting to pack it. “Could’ve avoided all this if y’just used the damn blade like we’d intended, you know.”
”I already have a sword.” Izayoi’s reply was nearly automatic, as if they’d had this exact same line of argument in the past.
”You were free to hand it off to anyone else you deemed worthy.”“I forged that sword for the Emperor’s court, you stupid girl.” Kurogane snapped, lighting his pipe in his hearth’s fire. “And let the finest swordsman I ever did see take it instead. Between him and you, no one else is fit to wield the bloody thing. Let me guess, you’ve been killing Valheimr?” At Izayoi’s nod, he continued. “You ever find it, actually use it this time. As fine as that blade I forged for your coming-of-age is, my one and only masterwork is superior. Might’ve actually won the war with it.”
His piece said to Izayoi, who stood scowling at him, Kurogane turned back to Rudolf.
“Right. You. Looking for a consult? I’ll tell you right now: I’m not forging a sword in any of the southern styles.” Kurogane looked the monster hunter’s sheathed blades over. “I’ve my own specialties, and I ain’t young enough to go relearning everything to forge your ugly, double-edged pieces of shit. So whatever you want, I’d hope it isn’t that.”
Guh. Now everyone’s getting bent outta shape. You know she really would, right old man Kurogane? If I told her any more than I’m gonna have to tell you? She still might a minute from now!Rudolf had politely kept silent during the exchange, knowing well enough that there was far too much history there to step into as an outsider— and doubly cautious of the bristling tempers that were rising throughout, the moment Izayoi had protectively snapped her jaws in defense of the sword she continued to carry, even in the face of a masterwork now pilfered by the invaders. An injustice to be sure, but more immediately…
”You’re lucky, then. The steel from my village is honest and trustworthy.”His reply came with no small amount of frigid humor, as the paired cruciform blades on his hip remained well inside the leather, and his wiry arm instead crested his shoulder. Adopted as the culture may have been, Rudolf found himself forcing down a certain degree of venom for the disrespect— Sagramori held their chosen blades in the regard most reserved only for old friends. He was more than a little sympathetic to his samurai counterpart in that regard.
“My problem child, though, knows no home and tells only lies. He was thrown into my lap some time ago as a gift from afar.”The bitter words on his tongue would have to do as an outlet. Pointless lie. He was bringing out the only ugly bastard of the bunch.
It took no small amount of work to properly draw and present a greatsword within the confines of the smithy without knocking anything—or indeed any
one to the wayside, but experienced eyes like those in present company possessed would doubtless catch the truth. However much the dimensions were a hassle, they were the
only one. Even gripping with one hand, the haft transferred intent through the length of the blade very, very well.
He held it in both arms before Kurogane when all was said and done, flat and hilt resting in a palm each as he peered down the length with a furrowed brow.
”It cuts nothing, no matter the skill or strength behind the swing. Not even fishing twine. It won’t even do the courtesy of acting as a dull bar to smash straight through something. For the life of me, I can’t determine why— But it must go deeper than construction. I wanted to know what you make of such dead steel.”Kurogane took the blade out of Rudolf’s hands, holding it up to the light as he inspected it, testing its weight and heft. After a few moments of this, he wordlessly marched towards his smithy, retrieving a bag of tools as he did so.
Several minutes passed, in which he murmured feverishly to himself as he examined away, prodding it with this and that tool, sparks coming off every now and then. In the meantime, Izayoi dug into the smith’s pantry and started a pot of tea.
Eventually, Kurogane finally looked up, looking straight at Rudolf.
“Boy. Where’d you get your hands on this?”
Miraculously, he found himself thanking his lucky stars.
Five years of headache and dozens of stumped Edreni bladesmiths past by like grass on wind, until he was led here by the most unlikely company, to the most unlikely benefactor.
Finally, a hit a half-decade in the making on this vexing hunk of scrap.
No, don’t get ahead of yourself. He needs more information, he hasn’t made an indication one way or another yet.And what was more, the information he was requesting, the raw truth of the matter… was sensitive. The sounds of Izayoi rummaging through the pantry drew his gaze for a moment, before he met Kurogane’s again.
She was preoccupied, but did he trust her to not have ears half as sharp as her blades? To loosen her focus on a matter that concerned her new party member, and had the smith this alert?
“Secondhand. My father and I parted in anger, and he saw fit to part with this alongside me.” he began, leaning in with a lowered tone. He had Robin’s encounter with the shinobi and to a lesser extent Izayoi herself too fresh in his mind to be fully forthcoming, not when Kurogane himself had so much of the war in his mind. He’d tell as much of the truth as he could… reasonably get away with.
Quite the politician. It’s like you never left his side.“As for him, he said it was a battle trophy. A powerful warrior in real garish clothes appeared in the middle of his camp one night from seemingly nowhere, and it took half their number to subdue him. That this was the worth of four dozen soldiers. I never heard if they learned where the man came from, only that he disappeared as quickly as he popped up.”“That so?” Kurogane raised an eyebrow. “This during the war? Only samurai I’d know worth four dozen men is busy
stealing my tea.” His voice raised during the last bit, to which Izayoi blew him off with a glower, though not without starting to listen in.
“Either way, probably not an Osprean, given he dropped this sword. Frankly? In terms of forging? Composition? This slab of iron you’re lugging’s damn well on par with my best. If not, and I’m hesitant to admit this, possibly better. That said, figured out why it’s so damn useless in your hands: the blade’s sealed. Someone enchanted it to have absolutely no potency or heft in the hands of any wielder. I know some green magics to enhance the blades I forge, but not enough to reverse the seal on your sword.”
Kurogane sighed, handing the greatsword back to Rudolf.
“Damn shame. Thing’d probably be a right terror without that seal. Now, care to have some of
my fucking tea,” Another scowl at Izayoi. “Before you head off?”
Sealed by arcane means… They had closed one mystery and opened a plethora in its wake. And these questions were even more obscure than the first set— in spite of the supernatural, thoroughly regrettable nature of his empowerment (
hey, don’t be like that), matters of magic as a craft were far beyond his ken. At least with metallurgical concerns, a swordsman’s need for understanding and maintaining his weaponry could give him a certain headway… But they had lead to a dead end.
His eyebrows shot up as he half-way received the sudden venom sent Izayoi’s way, stepping back with a start from the crossfire.
A moment later, though, he bowed his head deeper than before. It was a stiff gesture, not wholly familiar, but earnestly made.
“...Thank you, sir. This has been really enlightening. I owe you.”This visit was a greater windfall than he could have ever really bargained for. It had smashed through that wall he’d been beating his head upon and lead him in a direction entirely anew— now it was time to explore, study, and learn what he could. Reverse a seal on a blade. Unlock the true, potentially
devastating power within, something to match its poise, craftsmanship, and sturdiness. A path of action.
The sword wasn’t going to give it up easy, that much he knew… but now he had proper questions to ask.
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”Izayoi had already steeped the tea, after all— but the note of excitement in his voice was worth more than just a beverage.
Kurogane dismissed Rudolf with a grunt, walking over to the low table at which Izayoi sat and pouring himself a cup of tea. Several moments passed, in which all three inhabitants of the room drank in silence. Once Izayoi and Rudolf finished, the former stood, bowing to Kurogane.
”Thank you, Kurogane. For everything.” Her words were returned with a glower.
“Don’t say it like that. Makes it sound like you’re planning on getting offed. Again. You were mourned last time, idiot girl. Try not to do that to everyone who ever knew you this time. Unlike your master, some people actually liked you.”
In lieu of words, Izayoi only bowed deeper before rising and turning to leave.
Rudolf rose in her wake, and mirrored the bow, albeit with the stiffness of fresh learning.
“My thanks as well. Take care, Mister Kurogane.”Following Izayoi out with a turn on the heel, he found the brusque smith’s last rejoinder to echo in his mind as he contemplated what he’d seen and heard.
The Limbtaker was still very much alive within her. That much was impossible to ignore— the bile she had for the invading Valheimr had proven the visage had far from waned.
But war’s harshest realities were in the way you boiled the people on the other side down to a demon to fear, hate, and slaughter. He knew, always academically, that this was the case— it was why he had accepted the shinobi’s anger at his accent, after all.
He gingerly pulled the door shut behind, before jogging down the street to burn the rest of the distance between them.
Even
this terrifying figure, molded by battlefield myth into a gruesome beast of carnage, bloodshed, and bottomless hatred… Was just an idiot girl, liked by those around her, mourned when believed dead. Same as anyone else.
He couldn’t swallow the years of knowing her as the former right away. The mind was flexible, but nowhere near pliable enough for it, esp in ecially in bearing witness to the unfettered wrath she carried. No way he’d drop his guard and pretend they were friends.
But, in accepting that,
Wouldn’t hurt to try and get to know the latter a little more. We’re walking the same way, after all, and we’re in for the long haul. It’s not like I don’t trust what he says.
“And thank you, for letting me tag along. I owe you a real favor, Izayoi.” 
