Late at night, the sound of drums resonates with a heavy beat.
The hem of the girl's white skirt flares as she twirls to the rhythm of the sound.
The light emanating from the girl's skirt is brighter than the torches erected here and there.
"Remember."
As the old Geronimo said, Vlad closed his eyes in silence.
The sound of the girl dancing around him drew nearer.
"Can you think about what you want?"
Elders chanting spells.
Warriors standing guard with weapons in each hand.
And the drops of light falling from the young World Tree.
Vlad felt the spirits forming over his shoulders and sank deeply into himself.
What do I want, and what am I trying to take?
The answer to that can only be found within oneself.
As Vlad meditated, the blue metal wrapped in billowing silk gradually rose into the air and began to glow.
Vlad slowly lifted his eyelids, accompanied by the light and radiance.
"…"
Then, something appears.
A sword was visible floating brightly above the nostalgic image of the forge.
A sound is heard.
The sound of an old blacksmith hammering the sword.
***
"Then, do you need to stay here a little longer?"
"They said it would take a week. They say swords are made through rituals, but I don't know what that means."
August, who had packed his clothes, shrugged as he listened to Vlad's words.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but I have to accept what I have."
August must leave to complete the mission and Vlad must stay because he has something to receive.
Since we came here with different purposes, perhaps it was natural for us to leave at different times.
"Anyway, I'm curious too. Who is your master?"
A young knight who does not know his birth roots but wants to find the roots of the sword he wields.
August, who perfectly understood Vlad's feelings, decided to give him the right advice before leaving.
"I don't know about the imperial sword, but you can check the dragon hunter list by going to Brigantes, the capital. The Dragulia family keeps comprehensive records of everything related to dragons."
Knights who swore to kill dragons.
The Dragulia family, sensitive to everything related to dragons, recorded the names of all dragon hunters who had ever killed dragons.
Vlad's name is probably also written at the bottom.
"There is a high possibility that your master is on that list."
A man who killed a dragon while wielding the imperial sword.
To date, only one person has been officially named on those two lists.
A knight who faced the sharpest dragon with the noblest sword.
Founding King Frausen.
Clangg-
"…!"
In the moment of silence that fell between the two, August flicked a piece of metal between his fingers.
An old, rusty, and insignificant coin.
"My name is August."
A coin that only the lowest can deliver.
Vlad accepted the ducat that Ramund had given him and looked at August incomprehensibly.
"If someone sees your sword later and says something, you can mention my name."
A young knight wielding the imperial sword.
Although his personality was blossoming, August even added his own color because he was still very immature.
I don't know who he is, but if he manages to uncover Vlad's origins, he will be able to detect his weaknesses, which is his skill.
"But if possible, don't get caught."
Although it was a name that didn't have much prestige, if it were worthy of being the name of a former head of the imperial guard, it would prevent him from reaching the worst situation.
"Thank you. Lord August."
"I feel strange hearing my name from you."
August smiled slightly as he looked at Vlad bowing before him.
It was a short but powerful meeting.
Although he had set everything aside and was simply loyal to the empire, he still felt that in the end he had left only a faint trace, which made him feel relieved.
"Please come to visit me later when you come to Brigantes."
With those words, August turned his head without hesitation.
An old knight heading towards the rising morning sun.
When he came in, he came with many doubts, but when he left, his shoulders seemed lighter and happier.
"…"
Vlad looked back and silently looked at the old coin in his palm.
Now there are two ducats.
Holding a coin that was heavier than it seemed, Vlad placed the price of honor on his chest.
***
"The old man has left?"
"Yes."
Now it's a guest room where Vlad and Goethe are staying.
However, Goethe, who was supposed to be here, was always expelled somewhere, and the only person Vlad encountered was an unknown girl.
"Thank goodness."
"Why?"
"…I don't want to talk."
The girl's occasional words are incoherent.
There's no subject or object, and I don't even know whom she's referring to.
However, since she's a girl who only says what she sees, she wouldn't know the details.
"But is there really a white snake in a place called Deirmar?"
"…It's so big."
Vlad, who read the girl's intention to change the subject, grabbed the spirit by the neck as it climbed onto his shoulder and responded.
"It's big enough to swallow all the children here in one gulp."
The spirit, whose eyes gleamed and panted as if asking to play, had a tail made of fire.
"I want to see it someday. If I had to be specific, I'd say these spirits are on par with their parents."
"Is there a genealogy among spirits?"
"I don't know about that. I just want to call it spirit."
A white snake that clearly was born from the mother world tree.
The young priestess of the world tree seemed very interested in the traces of her mother, the world tree, whom she had never seen since her birth.
It would be worth it.
Because now she was in a position where she had to prepare for the ceremony while reflecting on the traces she had forgotten.
"I just need a long and sturdy sword. It seems there's a forge here."
"Not me. I'll do it."
The priestess, who was looking at an old book, looked at Vlad with stern eyes and said.
"I said I'll do it, but why do you do that? Everyone says they want to do it."
As soon as the girl finished speaking, the young spirits opened their mouths and started screaming something.
They're probably whining or chirping.
Although he couldn't hear it, Vlad closed his eyes when the atmosphere suddenly became chaotic.
"Anyway, you have to try at least once. If I don't, everything will be forgotten."
"…All right."
If it's not connected, it will be forgotten.
The numerous rituals that were supposed to be passed down from elders to juniors, and from previous generations to the next, now only remained in a few old books, and the person who would kindly teach the girl no longer existed, cut off by the passage of time.
"Wait. We'll make you something good."
Vlad wasn't the only one who had to find his own way.
Here too, there was a girl who had to find her own way and build something.
"Take your time."
Sometimes there are burdens that can't be shared.
Vlad, who didn't dare to extend his hand to the girl carrying such a burden that she had to bear alone, decided to stay by her side.
"Because I'll be waiting."
With those words, Vlad lifted a cloth and wiped Jorge's dagger.
Looking at Vlad like this, the girl raised the book she was holding.
Her face was covered, but her pointed ears and golden eyes were directed at Vlad.
***
On the full moon night of pure white, all the elves of Ausurin began to gather en masse in front of the World Tree.
"This is quite a sight, Captain."
"I just consider it a festival or something like that."
Vlad and Goethe were a little embarrassed by the situation where all the elves from the village had gathered and surrounded them.
The two still didn't understand why they had to stay here instead of at the smithy to make the sword.
"The sun is strict, but the moon is kind. She closed her eyes for a moment."
The staff he held trembled, but his voice was clear.
Geronimo, who had already recovered enough to move, slowly approached and opened his mouth to Vlad.
"So think about it. The shape of the sword you want."
"Is it okay to just think about it?"
Vlad listened to Geronimo's words and looked at the girl kneeling in front of him.
A girl dressed in pure white cloth.
A small crown made of flowers was placed on the girl's head.
"The clearer and more intensely you can remember it, the better."
"All right."
It seems new and different every time I see it.
Vlad, who felt that the girl, whose name he still did not know, was full of an inexplicable mystery, nodded to Geronimo.
"Close your eyes and get ready."
Vlad silently closed his eyes as he spoke those words.
The surrounding air suddenly became silent.
Vlad swallowed unconsciously in an atmosphere of tension rather than fear.
"Let's begin. Lady."
There was no grand beginning.
Only the faint sound of drums could be heard.
The girl stood up to the sound, silently placed her hand on her chest, and looked at the young World Tree.
"…"
The girl, who began to dance in an incomprehensible elven language, approached Vlad and began to spread the fabric she held.
It looked like a butterfly fluttering its wings.
The sound of the drum grew louder.
The girl's resonant voice spread widely through the sound.
The surroundings were full of young spirit repair boxes.
Kkang-Kang-
And the sound of a hammer could be faintly heard beyond those sounds.
Vlad focused on the sound and fell into a deeper world.
"…"
Total darkness.
Vlad walked towards the dark mud, following the example of the fluttering butterfly.
The soft feeling of the ground was familiar to him.
The sticky, viscous mud was something the young man found difficult to escape from, but for Vlad now, it was just a momentary discomfort.
¡Kaang! ¡Kang!
A nostalgic sound was heard from far away.
Before he knew it, a white butterfly had flown away and was sitting quietly between the cracks of the door of the old smithy.
"…"
Vlad lifted his head and looked at the smithy where a butterfly was perched.
A star hung high above the forge.
The sword, now lighter than a feather, was silently reflected.
"Long time no see."
Guided by the butterfly, Vlad crossed the deeply engraved footsteps in front of the smithy and opened the door.
There it felt stiflingly hot.
And the constant sound of hammers.
"I'm here," he said.
"Okay. Are you coming?"
Vlad silently closed his eyes as he heard the clearly audible voice.
In the illusion that seemed to disappear if he looked directly at it, the old smith smiled at him.
"I want to make a sword."
"A sword?"
The old man had said he would no longer make swords.
He said he couldn't make a proper sword with an old body and a poor furnace.
"Then, you're in luck. Good materials just arrived."
But now he was saying he would.
Because his old body and his old tools could no longer be an obstacle for him.
"This is a meteorite, but it's a metal that fell from a star, so it has no impurities and is very hard."
A voice full of power, not a languid voice.
Upon hearing that voice, Vlad smiled.
"I would like it to be of modest size, without adornments, and black in color. I guess I've grown fond of that first sword you forged."
"Indeed, I can't do much more than that."
The old smith who had accepted the commission raised his hammer with determination and let it fall with force.
¡Kraaang!
The sound of crackling fire in the forge sounded like the frolicking of a puppy's tail.
On the anvil, a small sparrow pecked.
A young blowfish cooled a bucket of water.
A lizard hatchling constantly poured sand over a sword tirelessly.
The girl with the simple sword passed her hair as payment, but now the young spirits being created were paying in her place.
"It's ready."
"…Already?"
He wanted to stay here longer because he felt warmth for the first time in a long time, but his time here was not infinite.
A white butterfly on the threshold was slowly weakening.
"Good to see you after so long. Now rest."
The white butterfly sitting by the door was slowly weakening.
Vlad silently opened his eyes when he suddenly felt the strong touch of a raised sword.
A blue light visible through fluttering white wings.
A sword but with a bright blue waiting for Vlad there.
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