Kain returned the gesture and said, “Of course, father.”
Ryusei helped Kain in bringing pieces of coal and wood into the furnace, then they used flint and tinder to start a small fire. They fed the flames using more dry tinder, and made it grow hot by pushing on the bellows beside it. In no time, an inferno raged within the furnace, heating the oven above and making it ready for work.
“The oven,” Kain said, “Expedites the process of heating up the metal, as it concentrates the heat inside itself,” he turned towards his father and said, “I built it myself using clay.”
“In but a month?”
Kain nodded. “I had help. Ren helped me procure the materials while I posed as Gizoo, I brought them here, and during the nights I slowly repaired the forge. Of course, in the meantime I explored the bond I share with Naginata. She helped me a lot, in fact, allowing me to perform feats of strength and speed I’d have been otherwise unable to do.”
“Impressive,” Munesuke said. “Well, now that the fire is roaring, and we have a lump of coal, what must we do?”
“Now,” Kain said through a grin, “We learn our first spell!”
The old man chuckled. “This ought to be interesting.”
“Indeed it will. Now, steel is not a pure metal, and precisely because of that it’s perfect for channeling magic. Now each of you pick an ingot from the—”
“Ingot?” Munesuke asked, “What is that?”
Kain sighed. “It’s a workable lump of metal shaped as a bar. Look, they are over there,” he said, pointing to a pile a few paces away. “I’ve been producing those over the past few days with the intent of working on some pieces. Yesterday I planned on creating a crossguard and a pommel for Naginata, but she made it pretty clear that she’s perfect as she is.”
“Senshi,” Munesuke said, “Crossguard?”
Kain chuckled, “You will see in time. Now, please take an ingot each.” Ryusei and Munesuke did as told. Each ingot weighed a kilogram, so they had no trouble lifting them. “Right, now close your eyes and focus on the metal. This should be easier for you, father, since you’ve experience with ikiteiruken. Now, become aware of the latticework of crystalline structures composing the metal, can you feel them?”
“I can,” Munesuke declared.
“There’s something there,” Ryusei said, “It feels like... crumbling sand.”
“That’s a way of putting it. Well, those are the crystals which compose every metal, from gold to steel to silver, anything. Now, this steel is inert, it’s not awakened, and you can channel your will through it. This trick I learned from an Israelite smith, you need to extend your hands and will a powerful magnetic field onto your palm, then…”
“What is ‘magnetic’?” Ryusei asked.
“Hmm, think of a lodestone, you know how it attracts pieces of iron?”
“Lodestone? Oh! You mean jittekoo!” the boy exclaimed triumphantly.
“Precisely! Think of the same effect and picture it as the most powerful field you can imagine, and once you do it, extend it to the ironsand to pull as much iron as you can into a lump about the size of both fists.”
Both the master and apprentice smiths did as Kain instructed, and Kain observed with satisfaction as iron dust was attracted by the magnetic fields each created. As he expected, Munesuke’s was far larger and stronger, quickly growing into a large lump, while Ryusei’s iron mass was barely the size of a walnut. When the process was done, each smith let go of the incantation, and their lumps fell to the ground.
“This is tiresome,” Munesuke noted.
“It is. You are the one providing the energy for the spell, father, but the metal helps you focus. Look at your ingots.”
They did so, and Ryusei declared, “It’s dissolved!”
“It’s diminished,” Kain said. “You poured your will into the metal, and it was degraded as a result. Now, father, you have a lump large enough for both you and Ryusei to work with. Ryusei, don’t worry too much right now. You will learn how to better focus through time and practice.” Kain clapped his hands and added, “Now, it’s time to start working the metal and for that, we’ll use another trick I learned from a Bharati forgemaster. Ore works similarly to steel, in that it has an essence which can be molded and manipulated. So we’ll try to make it accept as much coal dust as possible when inside the furnace, alright?”
“But too much coal will make the steel brittle, my son. It won’t be as enduring as tamahagane’s three different manifestations,” Munesuke pointed out.
“On that you are mistaken, father. I will answer your doubts when the time comes. For now, please don your leather gloves, and place your pieces of iron into the forge using your tongs, but don’t let go of the metal once it’s inside the forge.” The old and young smiths worked in tandem, as the forge’s oven was large enough. When the metal was inside, Kain instructed, “Now, just as before, focus your intent through the tongs, and into the raw ore and beseech it to become open to accept as much coal dust as possible.”
The same scenario repeated itself: Munesuke managed to do as requested, while Ryusei protested, “This is useless, I can’t do it!”
“Never say something you are trying for the first time is impossible, Ryusei. You are just learning, while my father has a lifetime of experience behind him. What matters is that you try.”
The boy nodded, and returned his focus to the furnace. Kain saw the glint of satisfaction in his father’s expression as the kid resumed his practicing. He’s like the son he never had, thought Kain, feeling a slight pang of jealousy. Then again, I was taken from him.
The old and young smiths turned the lumps in the forge until they were red-hot, then dusted them with coal. The incantation in Munesuke’s iron was more efficient than that in Ryusei’s, and the metal came back with less slag. “Well done,” Kain said before adding, “Now, a third trick, this one of my own making. It’s a spin on the Bharati’s trick, except instead of priming the iron to take in coal you’ll make it maintain its heat throughout the procedure,” Kain smiled. “Saves the time to re-heat the metal, and keeps it even throughout.”
“A useful incantation,” Munesuke said, “But it removes the effort from the process.” He chuckled. “It’s cheating.”
“It’s not, father. It’s merely making things simpler and more efficient. Besides,” Kain said, a forlorn note entering his voice, “I owe my life to said simplification.”
Munesuke nodded appreciatively and returned his gaze to the furnace. The old blacksmith did as Kain instructed, and poured his will into the raw steel, making it keep its temperature constant. “It becomes easier,” Munesuke declared.
“It does!” Ryusei exclaimed, “I did it!”
“Great job, to both of you. Now, you proceed by taking out the steel and hammering out the slag. There’s only one anvil, so only one of you will be able to work.”
“Let Ryusei work on my steel,” Munesuke said.
Kain blinked rapidly. “Are you sure, father?”
“I am,” replied Munesuke. “Ryusei has been a quick study, and though he still lacks physical strength, he has honed his skills with impressive rapidity. Besides, we are forging a tanto, and I believe him capable of doing it. By now, I know the process by heart, Senshi. I shall work on a saya and a tsuka for the weapon.”
Kain nodded, and to Ryusei he said, “Are you ready?”
The boy bowed and chirped, “Hai!”
“Good. Then take the steel to the anvil and get ready to hammer it.” Ryusei did as Kain commanded, removing slag with every strike of the hammer. Sparks and pieces of red refuse fell harmlessly on the soil around the anvil, making the steel pure and free of detritus. “Excellent, now you need to picture the weapon in your mind’s eye. It’s a tanto, so its blade shouldn’t be longer than one shaku, er... Thirty centimeters at most, plus another fifteen for its tang; father, did you hear?”
“I heard!” Munesuke replied as he worked on a pi
ece of pinewood, shaping it into the tanto’s scabbard.
“Now, Ryusei, have you pictured the weapon’s shape and length within your mind?”
“I have.”
Kain grinned. “Then hammer the steel into a smooth block, then start shaping it into the weapon’s form!”
Ryusei nodded and set himself to work. Despite his small frame, he struck his hammer against the burning metal with calculated precision and alacrity, compensating his lack of raw strength with speed. Slowly, the metal started to take the shape of a block, retaining its heat throughout the process. Ryusei hammered adroitly, turning the metal to achieve an even distribution of its width; the boy started shaping the blade, elongating one of the ends of the block and widening it until it was five centimeters wide, then kept lengthening it until it was close to thirty centimeters long.
“Good, Ryusei,” Kain said, “Now you need to work on the other end of the block and shape the tanto’s tang. It must be narrower than the blade, so a tsuba, a guard can be slotted through it and locked in position with the blade’s width.”
“Got it,” said Ryusei, and he started working on the tang. He hammered the lower portion of the block, making it narrower and longer than the blade. The boy realized he made a mistake, producing a tang the same length as the blade. “Kain, I messed up!” He cried dejectedly.
“Don’t worry, Ryusei, it was a mistake, and it can be fixed, look.” Kain took the gloves from the boy, then the tongs, then grabbed the red-hot steel by the blade, and placed the troubling part on the edge of the anvil. He struck the metal, bending the lower section of the tang and forming a notch on the steel; he turned it around and repeated the process until the metal broke, dropping off the excess length.
Kain left the steel and tongs on the anvil, removed the gloves, and offered them back to Ryusei. “Mistakes happen, Ryusei, and you must learn how to compensate for them. Some mistakes can’t be undone and the build is better started anew, but most of them can be fixed with some creativity. Now,” Kain added, “What follows?”
“I, uh...”
“You quench the blade. Father, come here,” he said, and when Munesuke reached them he said, “Here’s the answer to your question: The steel won’t break because I won’t be quenching it in water, but in oil.”
Munesuke blinked rapidly and peered over the quenching vat, his brow furrowing the moment he saw the viscous substance within. “What is this, Senshi, and why is the vat a... tube, rather than a trough?” Munesuke asked.
“Rapeseed oil, father, and because it’s more efficient than a horizontal trough for quenching.”
“I see, but I fail to understand: You intend to immerse the weapon in oil?” Kain nodded, and Munesuke asked, “Why would you do such a thing?”
Kain chuckled. “One time during Albion’s campaign, my unit’s troughs were fully dry and there was no water to be had, but we had oil. The quenching was better and more even,” he shrugged, “Been using oil ever since.”
“Well, you are the master today, Senshi,” Munesuke declared, returning to his work on the scabbard.
“You heard him,” Kain said to Ryusei, “Before you quench the blade, release the enchantment holding the heat inside, do you think you can do it?”
“I can,” Ryusei replied. He closed his eyes in concentration, and Kain could see the boy’s effort evident on his face. After a moment, Kain saw the edges of the metal starting to lose their heat glow. “I did it!” The boy cried, proud of his accomplishment.
“Great, now sink it into the vat, let it cool evenly for a few seconds, then take it out.” Ryusei nodded, and plunged the metal into the tub, burning the oil inside. Kain realized Ryusei had done the process before, under his father’s tutelage, as he deftly removed the future weapon before it cooled down too much. He kept holding the short blade by its tang, letting Kain examine it. There were no pits or cracks along its build, meaning the quenching had been successful. “Magnificent!” Kain exclaimed. “Well done, Ryusei, the blade is complete.”
“How did it turn out?” asked the child.
“Well,” Kain replied, “Let’s ask the master blacksmith. Father, come here please.” Munesuke dropped his woodworking tools and walked towards Kain and Ryusei. Kain said, “Take a look at this.”
Munesuke grabbed the weapon and inspected it carefully, feeling its weight and examining its straightness. He smiled and said, “I think the young apprentice has earned the right of his first signature.”
Ryusei blinked rapidly. “I did? Truly?”
Munesuke handed the weapon back, nodded and said, “You have.”
The kid eagerly took a chisel from a bucket beside the forge, and slowly engraved his name into the tang:
竜青
“Ryusei,” Kain read.
“Hmm, it’s missing something,” declared Munesuke. “Here, give me the hammer and chisel.” He took the tools from Ryusei’s hands, and made an engraving before the last two kanji:
鍛冶屋竜青
“Much better,” said Munesuke. “Kajiya Ryusei. You’ve done well, child.”
Kain laughed. “Our family name? What about tradition, father?” Kain asked.
“Well, Senshi, to quote something you would say,” Munesuke replied, grinning impishly before saying, “Fuck tradition.”
Kain smiled. “Would you look at that, I have a little brother.” Munesuke nodded and walked back to the woodworking tools, and Kain turned towards Ryusei. “Now the blade must be grinded to a sharp, keen edge. For that, we’ll use this,” said he, walking towards a circular grindstone set near the forge. “Now, before you ask, this is a grindstone; it’s a piece of technology used by westerners. I had to make the mechanism myself out of a wooden frame and axle, and a crank pedal to control the speed. Give me the blade, I will show you how to do it.”
Ryusei complied, handing Kain the now lukewarm blade. Kain accepted it, and started turning the pedal on the right side of the grindstone, making it gain speed. Slowly, he pressed the edge of the metal against the grindstone, and red sparks of metal flew by as steel was shaven off. Slowly, Kain grinded the blade into a keen, sharp edge, and when he was done, he examined it and judged it complete.
“Now,” said Kain, “the weapon can be assembled. Father?”
“The grip is ready, here,” said the old blacksmith, offering two pieces of wood which would form the tanto’s grip.
Kain took the wooden pieces and said, “The next step involves drilling two holes through the wood and metal, for pins to be inserted into. This will affix the grip into the tang.”
The boy nodded and reached for a small drill which rested beside the forge. He quickly drilled two evenly spaced holes into the tang. “How is this?” Ryusei asked.
“Great. Now, there’s a box over there, behind those rocks. I purchased tsubas to spare me the time of forging them. They’re rather generic, yes, but the highlight of this tanto is the weapon itself.” Ryusei went towards the place Kain indicated and quickly returned with a circular guard for the tanto. “Good, now slot the tang through the tsuba, and give it a couple easy strikes with the hammer.” The boy did so, and Kain continued, “Now piece everything together, take a couple pins, and hammer them into the holes you drilled.”
Ryusei knocked the two pins into the holes, permanently locking the wood and metal together, and then he presented the weapon to Kain. “What is this like?” he asked.
“It’s perfect. Now it can be awakened, to do this you must…”
“Wait, Senshi!” Munesuke called. “Wait. This, I will do.”
“Why?” Kain asked.
“Because Ryusei is yet too young to wield such power, my son. He must mature as a blacksmith first, before the responsibility for creating ikiteiruken falls upon him.”
Kain sighed. “Perhaps you are correct. Ryusei, any objections?” The boy said nothing, and Kain added, “Come, father. Let me show you how it’s done. Take a fresh steel ingot from the pile first.
”
Munesuke did so, then stepped beside Kain. “I am ready.”
“Pick up the weapon, and proceed as you do when awakening the blade by yourself. Except instead of offering your essence to its kotodama, offer that of the steel ingot.”
“Very well, son,” said Munesuke, and he closed his eyes.
Kain could see the concentration on his father’s face as he linked the metal and the essence within the weapon. The steel ingot started to dissolve slowly as the weapon’s kotodama admitted it into itself. When the ingot was fully consumed, Munesuke opened his eyes. “Impressive,” said the old blacksmith.
“And you have created your first truly living weapon. It’s not yet bonded and fully awakened, you need blood for that, but it’s now complete. What say you, father?”
Munesuke held the weapon appraisingly, watching its shape intently. “I say, Senshi, that you have taught me greatly today. You have surpassed my abilities, son, and I accept it openly. I also say that we have a number of weapons to produce.”
“Regardless of tradition?” Kain asked.
“Of course!” Munesuke exclaimed. “I am not growing any younger. And you,” he said to Ryusei; the boy perked up and Munesuke added, “You performed wonderfully.”
Together, the three Kajiyas returned towards their household, having formed a bond stronger than the steel they forged.
Chapter XIV: Rise and Fall
“Smiths are, in essence, dangerous, and none are more dangerous than the ancestral smithing lines. The old families, holders of the secret to forge ikiteiruken must be tightly guarded and kept under strict surveillance at all times. Their knowledge is too valuable to fall in the wrong hands, or worse: To be used against us.”
-Shogun Yorunokenshi Ichiro, in “Dialog on the Maintenance of the Status Quo and the Proper Place of Lower Castes.”
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 18
