The forge was hot and filled with the sound of clanging metal and wheezing air. Apprentices wheezed themselves, as they worked the bellows, looking none too amused when Ailn and Kylian walked in. Perhaps they didn’t like having their work interrupted.

“You need somethin’?” one of the apprentices asked gruffly. “Aren’t you the noble lout that died?”

“The very same,” Ailn said.

“You shouldn’t address the young master so crudely,” Kylian admonished them with a raised eyebrow. “Not to his face or anywhere you can be heard.”

From the back of the shop, the continuous clanging of metal could still be heard. The master had apparently not deigned them worthy of breaking his focus.

“We’ll be quick. We just need you to test out some shards. Steel shards from a sword,” Ailn said.

The clanging stopped. Ailn and Kylian turned their heads in the direction of the sudden silence.

“You broke one of my swords?!” a voice screamed from the back, its own kind of bellow.

The master came stomping out, tong and hammer in each hand—the tong itself still red hot as he waved it around in Kylian’s face.

Kylian took a timid step back, a foot outside the forge, and his head struck the low stone lintel of the entrance. Ailn chuckled at the sight, which made Kylian scowl. That is, until the hot tongs were swinging around in front of him.

“Hey! Watch it. This body just came back from death. Near-death.” Ailn peered down nervously at the tongs. “The sword broke when I was attacked.”

“I don’t care how. You’re saying you broke your sword,” the master fumed.

“Probably. Maybe. That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Ailn pulled out the pouch with the steel shards and handed it to the master. “Can you tell us anything interesting?”

The master growled and handed his hammer to one of his apprentices before snatching the pouch out of Ailn’s hand. He emptied its contents out onto a worktable and grabbed the largest shard with the tong.

“Slow down on the bellowing!” he hollered at his apprentices. “Let it cool down to red.”

Kylian, for his part, wasn’t sure what they hoped to find. Was the sword in the courtyard truly missing material? At a glance, he thought that Ailn could be right. But a handful of missing steel felt inconsequential compared to the stark fact that he’d been lying there—dead or unconscious—with a sword shattered beside him.

The apprentices sighed with relief at their chance to take a break, slumping back into the bench against the stone wall. They passed a leather costrel between themselves, taking big swigs of water; rather magnanimously, they even offered the costrel to Ailn and Kylian.

The two declined politely.

It took about fifteen minutes for the heat of the forge to cool down to a red flame, and Kylian found the wait quite awkward. The workshop dropped a few degrees, yet the air was still unbearably stuffy.

Finally, when the flame dulled to a dark red, the master held the shard over it. He murmured softly to himself, and shook his head as the shard started melting.

“A flame this cold and it’s already melting…” he said quietly. Somehow he looked a little despairing.

“It must’ve been one of the lower quality swords then,” Kylian said. Which was to be expected, given it was on Ailn’s person. He sighed. “I suppose this was a false lead.”

“Don’t you even know the nature of your own tools?!” the master snapped. “This shard is the highest quality of orichalcum alloy there is! The trade off for conducting holy aura is weaker steel! It’s brittler, and it melts at a lower temperature!”

He kicked at an ash bucket sitting near the forge, knocking it to the ground with a loud clang. The soot puffed out through the room, till everyone was having a coughing fit besides the master. He must’ve been used to it.

Both Ailn and Kylian’s cloaks got dirty with soot.

“Don’t take it out on me, you old man! Damn,” Ailn coughed, and tried to brush off the soot accumulating on his once azure cloak. Now it was looking more like a shadowy indigo. “So, what? I owned an amazing sword I couldn’t even use properly?”

“Hell if I know,” the master growled. “Wouldn’t surprise me if a spoiled brat like you witlessly asked for an orichalcum sword just to show off. I only make a few of these a year.”

Ailn clicked his tongue. Then he turned to Kylian.

“Guess I was vain,” he shrugged.

“You… certainly never struck me that way,” Kylian said doubtfully.

Ailn crossed his arms and tilted his head. Then, after a moment’s thought, he snapped his fingers.

“What if we checked in with that quartermaster you’re always bugging?” Ailn asked. “He should keep inventory on distributing those swords, right?”

Kylian knitted his brow at Ailn’s choice of words.

“Bugging? You of all people…” Kylian held himself back. This wasn’t the time for this. “And no. The swords don’t belong to the knight order. Every knight purchases their own sword.”

“You’re kidding me,” Ailn looked at Kylian quite pityingly. “That’s a scam if I ever heard of one.”

Actually, Kylian agreed with that. Despite his loyalty to the order and to the duchy, he also thought it was unfair to ask knights who put their lives on the line to provide for their own weapon.

That said, he understood it was a matter of economic necessity. Swords were expensive—especially those of steel mixed with orichalcum.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Is there any chance someone planted the sword?” Ailn asked, clearly puzzled.

“That would be absurd. They cost so much I’ve never even heard of a knight owning two. And to what end?” Kylian asked in response.

“Hm.”

It cost Kylian three months’ salary to purchase his sword, and since he paid by a monthly deduction it took him four years to settle the debt. No one would shatter a sword purposefully—especially when it did so little to add to the staging of the crime.

On the other hand, it did seem at odds with the old Ailn’s personality. Why would he be so modest in every other aspect of his life, yet keep a sword so lavish?

“If that’s all you came to ask, then see yourself out,” the master said, grabbing the hammer from his apprentice and turning back to the smithy. “Already ruined my day. Don’t come back if you’ve broken another sword.”

“Well,” Ailn said, patting him on the back, which made him growl more than anything, “try not to have a heart attack, old man. If we do our job right we’ll find the guy who really broke it.”

----------------------------------------

Simple and underutilized. That was the first impression the knights’ yard gave off. Not too far from the forge, it was a wide space befitting its job of training the Azure Knights. But its width was most of what it had going for it.

The only real equipment offered for training was a number of wooden pells. Far too many pells, and not too many knights actually using them.

There was a large circular space for sparring, and nearby trees offered shade for spectators—though really, there were only squires sparring.

“Do you guys… take your jobs seriously?” Ailn asked, puzzled.

There was almost no one here.

Kylian averted his eyes. “It’s not ideal, I admit, but swordplay truly is secondary when it comes to defeating shadow beasts. I also believe the knights could stand to hone their fundamental skills—but a more direct and singular focus is practical in its own right.”

“Then how do you actually prepare to fight shadow beasts?” Ailn asked.

“You go to the wall,” Kylian replied. “After you reach the minimum acceptable competence with your sword, you’re taken to face the beasts as young as possible.”

“Sink or swim, huh?” Ailn asked.

“I’ve never heard the phrase, but that sounds about right,” Kylian nodded.

What was the best way to learn how to fight shadow beasts? By actually fighting them. That was the philosophy, by and large, of the knight order and the duchy itself.

With sufficient holy power, a beast could be cut through with ease. But if your faith shook, and your power dwindled, your blade was liable to get caught in its body. For all those who nearly died from having their sword stuck, it left an impression: watching the light wane, feeling the resistance and burning in your muscles as your arms start to shake…

The old saying in the Azure Knights was that the edge of your sword was sharpened on the whetstone of your prayer.

These days, few took the saying on its face. The modern Azure Knight was simply not that devout, and understood it differently: you die if you let yourself be enfeebled by fear.

That’s why squires were brought to the battlefield to get their first kill as swiftly as possible. The older one was before they stepped against the shadows, the less likely they could handle the pressure.

Kylian related as much to Ailn.

“Maybe that makes sense,” Ailn said, swinging a wooden sword in hand from side to side. “But then it seems like you should spend more time practicing manifesting your holy aura.”

“...There are still those knights in the order who believe it heretical to use the divine blessing for anything but the quelling of shadow beasts,” Kylian sighed. “To use it for anything else erodes the trust with which it was received.”

“You don’t sound like you believe it,” Ailn said, readying a striking stance which looked surprisingly competent.

“I don’t know that I do believe it,” Kylian said. “It is, at any rate, not to be done lightly.”

Ailn struck the pell with force, and it produced a resounding thud. Kylian couldn’t help but whistle at it—perhaps Ailn was rubbing off on him.

“Wow. I’m better than I thought… a lot better, actually.” Ailn stared at his dominant hand, and then at the pell he just struck. He seemed almost perturbed by his own strike. “Anyway, I’m not gonna ask you to do it lightly. But I am gonna ask you to demonstrate your holy aura for me.”

Ailn tapped the pell again.

“What?” Kylian glanced around anxiously. Did any of the squires hear?

“Are you that worried about being caught?” Ailn asked. “We can go find a tree somewhere, I guess, if you really want to.”

Kylian paused. What would happen, indeed? As far as he knew, it wasn’t unlawful within the duchy itself.

It was just strongly frowned upon.

More than a few knights found the heresy hypocritical and antithetical, at least in principle, to the preservation of their own lives. It just so happened that they nevertheless believed the best form of practice was doing.

Being able to manifest your holy aura when perfectly safe was not a reliable indicator of your ability to do so in the midst of danger. Hence, even the knights who had their reservations accepted the theological prohibition.

“Why do you want to see a demonstration of holy aura?” Kylian asked.

“The orichalcum-heavy sword got me thinking,” Ailn said. “And you know, I’ve never even seen this holy aura since I woke up. What if everyone just made it up? Actually, you’re the only one who mentioned it to me.”

“...That’s not true. The blacksmith just mentioned it,” Kylian grimaced. “Do you truly believe I would do that?”

“Well, someone tried to kill me,” Ailn shrugged. “Why’s a big, elaborate prank out of the question?”

“Very well,” Kylian said, uneasily. “Perhaps it will jog your memory.”

“Are we gonna look for a tree?” Ailn asked.

“No. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Kylian replied, though he didn’t exactly give the appearance of guiltlessness. “I would rather do it openly and explain myself, than run the risk of being seen doing it in a furtive manner.”

Besides, there weren’t that many squires around. And in any event, how would anyone be able to tell?

“Put as much strength into your swing as you can,” Ailn said. “I want to see the aura’s full force.”

Kylian’s eyebrows scrunched in irritation. But if there was no chance of using his aura surreptitiously, then why not go all out?

He took a deep breath. It had been a while since he’d actually used his holy aura, since he’d been serving as a peacekeeper. He had been at the bestowal ceremony the night Ailn was attacked, but by the time he reached the shadow beasts they’d already been cleanly dispatched.

A soft glow of white ran down his blade. His holy power had always been modest, and as such he was more serious about his swordsmanship than the other knights. Thus, his strike was swift and sharp.

As his blade met the wood, it was as if the aura energetically splashed; a surging, concussive sound rang out and sustained.

The squires who had been sparring looked over in curiosity, and Kylian felt sweat begin to run down his back. He merely nodded, and gestured with his hands that they should get back to their own business.

The pell itself had partially shattered at the point of impact, and Ailn stared for a long while at it. At first, Kylian he’d simply been caught off-guard. But Ailn walked closer to the pell, and put a squinting eye right up to the shatter point.

“Kylian. Do you need a sword to use your holy aura?” Ailn asked.

“Certainly not,” Kylian said, a nervous edge in his tone. “It has to manifest through our body after all. Why? You’re not going to ask me to punch the pell are you?”

“No. I was just curious. Thinking of different scenarios.” Ailn reached his hand carefully toward the shatterpoint, and picked out a few splinters. “More importantly, take a look at these.”

“What about them?” Kylian asked, as he took one of the splinters in his hand. Then, once he could look closely enough, he realized exactly what Ailn was pointing out.

“Doesn’t this wood look a little burnt?”