Kays Translations

Chapter 22: Unyielding Spirit

Lutz stared at the broken sword.

On the table was a sword, broken in half at the center. Lutz's eyes were somewhat sad as he looked back and forth between the blade with the handle and the blade at the tip.

“Good morning Lutz-san!”

Claudia came out of the back room and was in high spirits for the morning, but for some reason she was completely naked. Lutz wondered where to place his gaze on her ample breasts and taut skin.

"... at least put some clothes on"

“Wow, Lutz-kun, you’re already used to it, aren’t you? How can you say that after the way you played with me last night?"

"Someone might see you. Gerhard-san may show up, or the neighbors may come to ask for sharpening."

"Fufun, I see. You want me to be your own Venus, right?"

"It's not wrong, but I didn't say that much."

"Let's evaluate the places that don't enter from easy denial."

The naked woman laughed and went into the bedroom, and after a while a female merchant in a long skirt appeared.

It was a bit of a close call. Lutz couldn't help but think about that. Is he a special kind of guy, or is this just the nature of men?

“So what is Lutz-kun doing with a difficult face since this morning? A sword, this is a sword, isn't it? It's broken, but...".

Claudia, peeking out from behind Lutz, wound up talking fast.

"It's a memento of my father."

"Hmmm ......"

With a look of understanding, Claudia sat down across from me.

"Do you mind if I touch it?"

"I don't mind, but be careful. This one cuts horribly."

What is this man talking about? Claudia has handled numerous weapons as a merchant and as Lutz's partner. There is no way she would screw up and hurt herself with a sword now.

She reaches out with some frustration, wondering if she is being underestimated.

"Ouch!"

A sharp pain shot through her fingertips, and she involuntarily withdrew her hand.

Claudia looked at the broken sword and Lutz alternately in disbelief.

Strange. I didn't injure my finger inadvertently. Because I hadn't even touched it yet.

I look at my fingertips, but they are not cut. Only the slowly fading, pulsing pain is real.

Lutz spoke calmly.

“This one is too sharp. Just by getting close to it, you'd think you'd been cut.”

"No way..."

Claudia closed her mouth when she tried to say that it was absurd. If it's a sword with bewitching power, haven't we seen a few of them? It was only a few months ago that I tried to cut my own tongue in half.

"If you understand that this is the kind of sword and hold it firmly, you won't feel any pain. Otherwise, you won't even be able to hold it."

"It's strong enough even for a first-time killer. There aren't many chances to seriously fight the same opponent. It's a simple job to just kill an opponent who is confused or crouched in pain."

Claudia lowered her eyes to the sword emitting a mysterious light. She could easily imagine that if I (Claudia) touched this blade, it would really, easily cut me.

It's natural to cut, it's natural to be cut. I wonder if such an idea is directly connected to the image that will be cut. With compulsion that appeals to instinct.

"If it had remained in perfect condition, it would be a real national treasure, wouldn't it?"

"Or maybe it will be confiscated by the church as a devil's sword and sealed."

"It's just like a church where you don't destroy or dispose of things."

"Because it's their specialty to criticize valuables and make them their own."

The two looked at each other and smiled weakly. It was also a self-mockery of their own helplessness.

It is not only the Church. The Knights of Columbus, the trade unions, and others, while seeing blatant corruption, I can do nothing, and can only live within that framework.

If so, how thankful I am to have someone who lives with me.

“Now then, the next question that arises is, of course, why is it broken?”

“In case you're wondering, I have asked my father about that too, but…”

Lutz stammered.

It doesn't seem to be such an honorable story, such as giving up after a one-on-one duel with a mighty monster.

“Let me hear it, isn’t it curious? If Lutz-kun’s papa is like my papa, I should have the right to ask.”

"Is that true? … Maybe so."

“It’s not like he impregnated about a dozen people at the same time and ran away from his hometown. It's not like we're talking about such a pig-headed person."

“As expected, it’s not that embarrassing a story. Well, since we're here, I'll have you listen to it.”

Lutz grabbed the broken hilt of the sword and reflected his own face on the blade. Although he felt no pain, he began to feel as if he were holding something dangerous, as if he were holding gunpowder on fire. It was a little hard to breathe.

After prefaced by the fact that he had heard everything from his father, Lutz began to talk bit by bit.

“My father, Rufus, was not a wanderer. He had a house in the Citadel, was a full citizen, and was a member of the blacksmith's trade association. He worked as a craftsman in some blacksmith shop and was apparently quite good at it."

Here is evidence that he was skilled. Perhaps he was even a threat to the master's position.

"One day he was told to go on a journey as an itinerant craftsman."

"Ah……"

Claudia nodded as if she had guessed something.

Itinerant craftsman is a system whereby craftsmen travel to different countries to hone their skills and personalities before taking the examination for promotion to master craftsman.

……That's what it's supposed to be, but in reality, it has a strong connotation of getting rid of troubles.

The number of master craftsmen is limited, and there are only a limited number of people who can rise to that position. Good craftsmen are wanted, but too many good craftsmen are just a hindrance. There is nothing more difficult to deal with than a slave whose collar has been removed.

Rufus, who was half forcibly kicked out of the blacksmith shop, found himself in a nearby town. He decided that he would rather learn a new skill by crossing the ocean rather than live in the narrow confines of a nearby town.

"He's quite a fantastic person to take action there."

“There must have been a backlash by the old people who clung to their position and only got in the way. He is the incarnation of such dynamism. I hear he was doing well in the East, across the sea."

In each place he taught the skills he possessed, and in return he was taught to forge katanas. Rufus was so fascinated by the sword that he stayed in the East for more than ten years, whereas he would normally have finished his training in a few years.

He returned to his homeland. However, he did not return to the blacksmith shop to which he belonged. He thought that in the old system of blacksmithing, he would not be able to make swords the way he wanted to.

He set up a small workshop outside the city walls and continued to forge swords.

He made his living sharpening axes and knives, repairing pots and pans, and making horseshoes and shoe trowels for horses. His income was drastically reduced compared to when he belonged to a major blacksmith shop, but he was still happy.

Then again, for many, many years he continued to forge swords, gaining a reputation among weapons enthusiasts as someone who made interesting weapons.

Before long, he had the opportunity to present the sword to the marquis.

"Isn't it amazing that it's flowing smoothly?"

“I'm sure he went through a lot of hardships, but all my father would say about it was that there was a lot going on. I guess he didn't like to talk about hardships.”

Lutz continued to talk while feeling nostalgic for the past.

This sword was made to be presented as a gift, and it was made with the utmost pursuit of sharpness.

In the courtyard of the marquis's house, surrounded by more than a dozen nobles, Rufus demonstrated the sharpness of his sword. He cut through stone. He slashed at armor. He slashed at a log. Each time he did, the crowd cheered, and Rufus was at the peak of his skill.

He believes that he is the best swordsmith in the world who does not fit into the framework of society. He is not like those snobs who are more desperate for power than to hone their skills in their filthy workshops.

Just as the unveiling ceremony was about to end, the son of the Marquis spoke up. I want to swing the sword too.

He had a bad feeling about it, but there was no reason for him to refuse. This was a sword to be presented to the marquis, and if the marquis said it was fine, then Rufus had no right to interfere.

The Marquis' son's posture was what is called heppiri-shiki. He had no basic skills. And yet, for some reason, he was full of confidence.

He said he was practicing swordsmanship, but it was probably simply a ritual of praise, praise from those around him.

The sword slammed into the armor with force, then broke.

In other words, sharpness is also thinness. A sword that only pursues sharpness sacrifices durability.

When the sword is held perpendicular to the target, it exerts its greatest attacking power. If the sword is even slightly out of alignment, its power is halved, and the burden is placed on the blade.

The embarrassed son turned red and cursed Rufus. A liar, an iron scraper, a crook. The cronies followed the son of the Lord, and the cheers became curses.

No, no, this sword is really sharp.

He wanted to argue with him, but he couldn't. He couldn't say to the Marquis that his son was a wreck.

In the end, Rufus was expelled from the marquis's domain without being allowed to make a single word of protest. It was a blessing in disguise, because he would have died before he could have been expelled if the broken blade had even scratched the son.

I don't know if this good fortune was a relief for Rufus.

"After a period of disappointment, my father met my mother, and that's how I was born.”

“That’s why Papa generously passed on all the skills he possessed to his only son.”

“Yes. But my father never asked me to avenge him or become a blacksmith of any kind. He taught me everything he could teach me, and that I could do whatever I wanted with it. That's all.”

Rufus had no expectations of the world. Nor did he want to be hoped for. Lutz recalled that he often had a nihilistic, rather than a pessimistic, look in his eyes.

"My father told me in his sickbed. That sword was made without thinking without thinking about its practical use. It's just a flimsy piece of his life. So my father asked me to dispose of it properly when he died. ......"

"The fact that it's here means that you didn't follow Papa-san's will."

"Yeah, I didn't want to just call this sword a failure. It's a challenging piece of work, and it backfired, but it's definitely a great sword."

Even Rufus could have thrown it away whenever he wanted to. The reason he didn't do that might be because he couldn't completely deny the sword.

"I apologize to my father, but when I think about what the strongest sword is, what is the best sword, I take this one out and look at it."

With that, Lutz carefully wrapped the top and bottom of the broken sword in cloth and put it away in a storage box. The action was respectful and not a treatment of a failure.

"This is a long story, let's have some rice. Since we're a little rich, let's put some salted fish in the soup."

Claudia watched Lutz's back as he headed for the hearth furnace, her eyes narrowed.

"A man's pride, a craftsman's obsession is troublesome. I already have the best sword for me..."

She stroked the dagger in her bosom over her clothes. It had already become a habit of Claudia's.

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