About ten minutes later, we unanimously decided that enough was enough, declared the match an honorable draw, and trudged off to wash away the sweat and dirt. No one had been fighting all-out or genuinely trying to kill anyone else, but we'd certainly given ourselves one hell of a workout. Fath showed Azula where she could freshen up, while my Master and I followed the familiar path down to the stream.
"Ozai's daughter has grown into quite the beauty," the swordsman remarked.
"Mm-hm... brr..." The water was chilly, despite the fact that the islands were almost never cold. Damn spring and all those underground channels feeding it.
"And that's all you have to say? A woman like that... If I were twenty years younger..."
"Hm, Master." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "My dear father hasn't happened to pay you a visit recently, has he?"
"Didn't need him. It was obvious enough already," the warrior snorted.
"You're not the only one. And it's getting on my nerves."
"There, there. What did you expect after climbing so high? The higher your position, the less your life belongs to you. That's exactly why I left the army back in the day. But what do you think of her?"
"What can I think? We've known each other for less than a week. Besides, I've got Suki, and I have absolutely no desire to turn into a prize breeding bull."
"Ah, youth. So hot-blooded," my Master chuckled.
"What, are you about to tell me to 'give her a chance,' 'think it over,' or something along those lines?"
"Chan." Piandao laughed. "I started a small war against an entire provincial army just to defend my right to live as I pleased, so the last thing I was ever going to do was tell you how to live your life. It's yours—your victories, your defeats, and your mistakes. Besides," he added with a grin, "you're more stubborn than an entire pride of moose lions, and I'm a master precisely because I don't pick hopeless fights."
"Spirits, you've completely confused me, you old womanizer."
"A true warrior must know more than how to swing a sword."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Speaking of 'more than'..." A plan suddenly occurred to me. "How about putting those artistic talents of yours to use?"
"Hm?" My companion raised an intrigued eyebrow.
I leaned closer to his ear and whispered.
***
A minute later...
"Hahahaha! Chan, you want me to paint..." The warrior wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "No, no, my apprentice. You're definitely not going to die of natural causes... But this is going to be immensely entertaining! First, though, the sword."
"All right. How long will it take?"
"A day or two at most—especially if you help me in the forge. I'm getting too old to play the striker with a sledgehammer."
"Uh-huh. Too old, he says, and yet you're still drooling over pretty girls..."
"I said I'm getting old, not dead," Piandao shot back. "All right, we're clean. Time for dinner. Let's go."
The late lunch-turned-dinner passed in a quiet, peaceful atmosphere. Everyone was occupied with their own thoughts or simply enjoying the chance to rest. After the meal and the customary tea, Fath showed the princess to one of the guest rooms, while the Master and I headed straight for the forge.
"So, where do we start?"
"With the forge!"
And then the work began.
Light the fire. Take your place at the bellows. Pump them. Splash your face with water from the barrel. Pump them some more. Shove the blade into the forge, close the doors, work the bellows again, then, at the Master's command, open the damper and pour every ounce of fire I could muster into the forge before running back to the bellows.
And repeat.
For an entire hour.
"Excellent. It's fused into a single piece. Now we can get to work." Piandao studied the white-hot lump of steel clamped in his tongs. Then he laid it across the anvil, picked up something resembling an ax, and with several perfectly measured blows chopped the former blade into sections. He dusted each strip with some kind of powder, stacked them together, and...
"Strike!"
I hefted the heavy sledgehammer and began methodically flattening the billets back into a single plate. Every so often, the Master rotated the workpiece with the tongs so the plate would keep a reasonably even shape. Once it had been forged flat, the "ax" came out again, and the plate was split apart and welded back together, interrupted only by repeated trips into the furnace.
***
Several hours later...
"That's enough for today. We'll handle the sharpening, polishing, and hilt tomorrow." The Master looked over the half-finished jian.
The blade's color was... strange.
Its base was a deep, vivid blue, with iridescent patterns shimmering across the entire surface.
"If I hadn't overseen the entire process myself, I'd have sworn some ham-fisted apprentice had overheated the steel. But no." He frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting."
"Mm." I didn't have the energy left for a more enthusiastic response. My arms ached as though they wanted to fall off, and my back wasn't much happier with the abuse. Military training and blacksmithing worked very different muscle groups, and this particular "workout" had been genuinely exhausting.
"All right. Get some rest. We'll finish it tomorrow," my Master repeated.
"Mm," I answered again, then automatically shuffled off toward my room.
It had been one hell of a long day.
***
Half of the next day was spent putting the finishing touches on the weapon: sharpening, polishing, crafting a new hilt, and, of course, making a matching scabbard. But when it was finally complete...
Oh.
A genuine masterpiece lay before my eyes.
The blade had become slightly lighter, and its shape was no longer that of a pure jian, though I could easily be wrong. I wasn't a swordsmith, after all, and even a single "type" of sword could come in several different forms.
(End of Chapter)
🙌Bonus chapter for 200 power stones!
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