Chapter 16 The Trial of the Craftsman
Perturabo's forging continues.
He melted two pieces of iron into a golden-white body, then wrapped it with two pieces of mild steel, connected them in series with long spiral iron rods, and placed them on the anvil. His work is unhurried and full of rhythm and skill. Rather than saying it is a physical labor, it is better to say that the action of swinging the hammer itself is part of the art.
The hard iron became soft and plastic under the high heat and hammer. From its original shape, it became integrated, unified, and gradually elongated. The tyrant Damex saw a rectangular outline, about ten More than an inch, the end becomes sharp, and the bottom is thick and stable.
A knife, he said to himself, joy rising in his heart from satisfaction. He saw the prototype of a sharp blade, which was forged and presented to everyone.
Morse watched Perturabo's every movement attentively, and Damex thought that the craftsman was probably observing the boy's specific expression in some inhuman way. Morse read Perturabo.
Perturabo's movements were more precise and faster than any boy of the same age that Damex knew, and even surpassed most of the craftsmen in the kingdom; the remaining craftsmen were better than him, and also It's just because of the natural advantages brought by age and physical strength.
When the previous hammer fell, Perturabo had already thought about the strength, center of gravity and landing point of the next hammer. His hammer was as precise as the factory machine, without any sluggishness or ambiguity.
The bright red edge of the blade appears from the incandescence, and the temperature cooling and the rhythm of the blade forming are unified. Perturabo put the iron into the furnace a second time, raising the heat again, allowing more high temperatures to change the structure of the iron.
Then he looked around, confident and bold.
"Give me a stick," he said.
The courtiers, craftsmen and priests present all looked at each other, but no one was so prepared.
Damekes immediately raised his voice, full of energy: "Patroclus, give him your weapons!"
The soldier named Patroclus was covered in blood. With a sudden inspiration, he looked at the giant wooden stick in his hand that was used to hammer people's heads, and handed it to the messenger who was running over. The messenger then handed it to the priest, who ran to Perturabo's side. Perturabo lowered his head, disappointment evident on his brow.
Morse shook his head, and a gust of wind blew towards the stage. The shape of the wooden stick was trimmed and perfected, making it smooth and easy to exert force. Perturabo looked up at him and immediately took over the tool.
"A hammer can easily damage the shape of the blade." Morse muttered.
The steel under Perturabo is more tamed than anyone expected. Those indestructible irons are meekly transforming into the new form that Perturabo needs. They are silent, hot, and honest, and treat everyone with kindness. The best reactions come from a pounding, and Perturabo makes no secret of his fondness for steel.
The boy's heart beat as the steel yielded. For the first time, he openly revealed the joy on his face. The fire burning in his eyes did not represent anger, but pure satisfaction and satisfaction. enjoy.
Damekes couldn't see clearly, but even such a distant observation was enough for him to understand Perturabo's mood.
He squeezed the handle of the golden scepter with satisfaction and began to imagine how his army would be completely transformed in the future because of the addition of two extraordinary blacksmiths.
Throughout the planet Olympia, the war between the Twelve Tyrants and other small countries has never ended.
They only made occasional truces, spent a precious period of peace and preparation for war, and then continued to fight for land and power. Tyrants must do this, otherwise the land will be ravaged and the subjects plundered.
He still remembers the record of Ax snatching Lokos women as wives a hundred years ago. In fact, this is the origin of the well-known nursery rhyme in China. Any child can sing a couple of lines from the song of the Shepherdess who strayed into the battlefield. A blacksmith who serves in the war can always add some chances of victory to his Lokos.
As for the Olympia Games, which allowed the whole world to choose to jointly maintain short-term peace, and those who started war would be besieged, it is as old as a legend.
"Your child will forge the most perfect weapon." Damex said to Morse. Even though Morse never admitted his relationship with Perturabo, the king felt that it was not wrong to call him this.
Morse on the side looked unpredictable, watching Perturabo's work. After hearing Damex's question, he smiled and continued his unfinished story: "You have to be careful, my son. If your wings are heavy, they are soaked in sea water; if your wings are light, then they are soaked in sea water. It's what the sun burned away. But don't be afraid, my son, if you are taken away by the tide, I will find you."
Dameix tasted Morse's riddle and talked with the god. He had been communicating with the priest for a long time, and he already knew that he could not ignore any of the puzzles presented to him.
Then he frowned, and it was not because of the too old noun "sea water" in his words.
Dameix confirms that Morse gave him a warning.
So he reflected: What did he say wrong?
On the round platform, the blade was quenched for the fifth time, and then for the sixth time. Beating and cooling, the golden-red fire attached to the knife burns on the water and alternates with the thin white mist. Perturabo wore invisible gloves, and the flames seemed to ignite from his hands and leap into the air.
Dameix was fascinated by it, as was everyone in the audience. Whether it was the craftsmen present or the courtiers who had no interest in forging and only came to witness on the king's order, they unknowingly devoted their full energy to observing.
For the last time, the blade entered the icy water for the last time. The boy walks with the flames. If the god of fire in Olympian mythology came to the world, this might be what he would look like.
Then he raised the completed dagger, and the cold light on the blade shone brightly. It was clear that it had not been sharpened yet, and it was already sharp and pressing.
The bright light shone across Perturabo's body, and the boy wiped away the black burnt layer on the sharp blade with his fingers. The blade surface was smooth and flat, reflecting the faces of everyone present.
The priest immediately knelt down in reverence, forgetting about the tyrant Damex who he was supposed to kneel to. "Son of God!" His excitement made him burst into tears, "Your skills are perfect!"
Dameix also stood on the side of the wooden fence with joy, opening his arms, as the leader of a country The king shows his welcome without reservation.
"Perturabo, Lokos will be honored by your forging, and your craft will bring new life to the entire kingdom."
Dameix left a little caution in choosing words. Both exaggerated and measured. He remembered that when he said the word "arms," Morse was not encouraging.
Perturabo's calmness was quite astonishing. He was neither delighted by the king's praise nor offended by the priest's words. He just raised his head and looked towards the second floor, his gaze pointing in a very clear direction.
Then, he threw the entire work into the flames. In everyone's astonishment, he mercilessly caused the just-finished blade to melt in the high temperature of the fire.
"Your praise is premature." Perturabo declared bluntly.
Damekes heard a breath, and he looked to his side, and from the smile Morse finally showed, he was sure it was a chuckle.
(End of this chapter)