Chapter 232: The Path of Craftsmanship, Halfway Through

Chirping of lovely sparrows announced the arrival of the morning, but the men gathered at Lutz’s workshop wore grim expressions, as if they were oblivious to such trivial matters.

Their gazes converged on Lutz’s hands, causing a prickling sensation as if needles were piercing through.

It had been about two hours since he started sharpening the swords. He slid the blades over wet whetstones, switching to finer stones when the resistance lessened. He repeated this process numerous times.

Not a word was spoken among the men. No one stood up out of boredom. Their eyes gleamed, trying to steal Lutz’s techniques.

To say they were stealing would be somewhat misleading, as Lutz wasn’t hiding anything to begin with. However, some things were difficult to explain in words. What the blacksmiths sought lay beyond mere verbal descriptions; it was the essence of skill.

Eventually, Lutz’s hands came to a stop. He gazed carefully at the blade before nodding and began wiping away the moisture with a dry cloth.

The elder, Oliver, and Momos all let out a sigh of relief. They had been holding their breath the entire time. If they had continued for another thirty minutes, someone might have collapsed.

“First, it’s finished.” 

Lutz declared, wiping away his sweat. The elder was the first to hold up the sword. “Hmm,” he murmured a seasoned craftsman’s nod of approval. The hardness, sharpness, and beauty were all present, making it a true work of art.

How a piece of steel forged and polished could move one’s heart so deeply had become a mystery.

Next, the sword was passed to Momos. Although Oliver seemed dissatisfied, it was simply because Momos happened to be standing next to the elder.

“Beautiful…”

“Hah, speaking clichés, huh? Don’t you have any vocabulary in that brain of yours?”

“In the presence of this sword, words are unnecessary. That’s my evaluation.” 

Momos said with a faint smile as he handed the sword to Oliver, challenging him with a smirk.

“Hmm, this is… amazing, really amazing!”

Oliver’s vocabulary died the moment he saw the blade up close.

“Hey, I’m not saying you should become a poet, but that’s worse than a drunkard’s ramblings!”

“I can’t help it. In the presence of true beauty, words are unnecessary.”

“You’re just copying me!”

It was the same old Oliver and Momos. Lutz gently took the sword from Oliver’s hand.

“Alright, alright, let’s not fight while holding swords. There are no plans for test cuts.” 

Lutz said as he carefully placed the freshly made sword on a spread cloth. Oliver still had a wistful look, but Lutz decided to ignore it.

“Well, this is really amazing, Lutz. Isn’t this the first of our quotas?” 

Momos exclaimed excitedly, but Lutz sighed before glancing at the elder. Seeing this, the elder nodded, apparently sharing the same opinion.

“It’s a splendid piece of work, but it falls just short of being able to accommodate four characters.” 

The elder said with a bitter tone. Oliver raised an idiotic voice, “Huh?”

“This isn’t good enough for four characters? Can you prepare something better? What kind of world is this with four and five characters?” Oliver continued, perplexed.

The blacksmiths, who had regained their determination after Gerhardt informed them of the king’s request, took turns nodding. Oliver wanted to believe that the sword they had all worked so hard on was the best, but instead, it was a failure. He couldn’t understand.

“If this doesn’t work, then what should we do?” 

Oliver asked, to which the elder shook his head before answering.

“Some things can’t be explained in words.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Maybe it’s impossible, maybe it’s beyond our capabilities, but we have to avert our eyes from such rational thoughts, block our ears, and continue to work tirelessly, without anyone guaranteeing our success. That’s the path of a craftsman. So, I ask you again, are you sane craftsmen?” 

“Sorry, elder. I got a little discouraged. It’s not like me.” 

Oliver said, regaining his composure.

The elder looked around the cramped workshop and spoke. 

“First, the three of us must be able to reliably carve swords with three characters. And what about you, Lutz?”

“Oh, Yes.”

“I’m deeply grateful for the lifelong debt of gratitude you’ve bestowed upon us, but it pains me to say this…”

The elder’s face brimmed with overflowing strength.

“I won’t lose.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Their responses were immediate. Lutz nodded with a serious expression.

The elder felt as if he had gained both a master and a rival at his age. It was enjoyable, incredibly so. He barely managed to hold back the laughter welling up from the depths of his belly.

“Hehe… If only there were men like you, Lutz, among my grandchildren.”

“Stop it, stop it. You wouldn’t have a moment’s rest if you were in this old man’s family.”

Oliver teased as if he had forgotten his worries from a moment ago.

“You really are…”

“Oops, before I get scolded, I’ll take my leave. See you later, Lutz. Thanks for everything. Let’s meet at the castle next time!”

Oliver waved his hand overhead and stumbled out, his fatigue and lack of sleep evident in his unsteady gait. It seemed like he had reached his limit. He wasn’t fleeing from being scolded but rather, his true intention was probably to leave before collapsing embarrassingly.

“Well then, Lutz, I’ll take my leave as well.”

Momos bowed politely and left the workshop. He tripped spectacularly just after opening the door, but Lutz pretended not to see.

“These guys are so noisy.”

The elder shrugged and then let out a big yawn.

“I’ll go home and take a nap, then focus solely on making swords. Ah, it’s fun. It’s really getting interesting. Humans do live long lives, huh? Hehehe…”

With an eerie chuckle, the elder also departed.

After confirming that all the noisy customers had left, Lutz lightly tidied up the forge and headed upstairs to indulge in sleep.

He was almost at the bed when a sudden wave of drowsiness hit him. He used not only his feet but also his hands to climb the stairs. The familiar staircase of his home felt like a snowy mountain in midwinter to Lutz at that moment.

So much had happened in just one day. He had received an unbelievable request from Gerhardt, forged swords with craftsmen much older than him, and finished sharpening without rest. It was only natural to be exhausted; the fact that he could still move was close to a miracle.

“Just a little more, just a little more…”

Lutz’s consciousness was interrupted by a moment of carelessness. He fell into a deep sleep with his hand still on the last step. It goes without saying that he would be scolded when Claudia found him later.

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