Interview

We bought a suitable house not far from the unit.

It was meant for us to use during leave or off-days, but also because there were some things I wanted to stash away.

"Evan, is this good enough?"

"Yeah. Make sure to bury our money bag well over there. I can't take this into the army. I'm heading over to the forge."

"Oh! Is it about time for our swords to be ready?"

"Yeah. He told me to come pick them up today."

I set out for the quiet forge on the outskirts of the city.

Since my body was still growing, there was no need for anything spectacular as a weapon—it would soon become unusable as my body developed further.

Still, I paid a hefty sum to a blacksmith with a solid reputation in the area and ordered two swords: one for myself, one for Bastian.

"Welcome."

The elderly blacksmith recognized my face.

"Are the swords I requested finished?"

"Yes, please come inside."

On the inner wall of the forge, various weapons were tightly hung.

They weren't bad, but neither could they be called outstanding.

A handful, here and there, looked usable.

The blacksmith went into his back room and emerged carrying two clean, unadorned swords.

They looked like scaled-down versions of a regular bastard sword.

"Huh?"

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"Let me have a look."

I received the swords from the blacksmith and swung one a couple of times.

Fwoosh, fwooosh.

What's this? This blacksmith...

As I tilted my head in puzzlement, the blacksmith inquired gently.

"Is there something unsatisfactory?"

"No, it's not that. It's just... these are nothing like the other swords hanging here."

Understanding dawned, and a smile bloomed on the blacksmith's wrinkled face.

"I was worried you might not be satisfied, but that's a relief."

"You did make these yourself, right?"

"As you can see, this is a small forge with no assistants."

"And your name is...?"

"What would you do knowing an old man's name? Just come back any time you need something."

I inspected the workmanship again.

Rather than being forged from a single hunk of steel, thin sheets of iron had been layered and pressed together.

These layers had formed a natural wave pattern, imparting a mysterious aura to the blade.

"A Damascus steel sword, isn't it?"

"You know your blades."

"You didn't go through such trouble just for looks, did you? Was it because we're young?"

"Yes. This allows for a blade that's lighter than regular steel but possesses greater strength and hardness. A solid steel sword would probably be too heavy for you two."

"..."

I was a little surprised.

The strength of a sword depends on the composition and steel-making technique.

The higher the carbon content, the stronger and harder the blade—but it sacrifices elasticity and becomes easier to break.

The lower the carbon, the more flexible it is, but it bends easily and loses sharpness.

That's why most make thick blades—to compensate for the lack of elasticity, making them less prone to breaking.

But that also makes the sword bulky and heavy.

Damascus steel, however, forms a fine layered structure of high and low carbon areas, achieving high strength, hardness, and flexibility—a sophisticated forging method.

Only a handful of blacksmiths on this continent even know what Damascus steel is, let alone how to make it, the technique being a secret passed down from other lands.

Not only was the Damascus brought out perfectly, but the blade's edge was sharp, smooth, and impeccably straight.

No way the guy who made the ordinary weapons hanging outside could have crafted this.

"If you can make swords like this, then what's with all the other weapons out there?"

The blacksmith wore his characteristic, gentle smile.

"A blacksmith just crafts metal worth what he's paid for, nothing more."

I had paid him handsomely, but still—this was a cut above.

A Damascus steel sword.

It might be unnecessary after my physique finishes developing, but for now, for me and Bastian, it was perfect.

"A man of your skill, I doubt this is where you belong. What made you craft a blade like this?"

"Well, you paid well."

"I doubt that's the only reason."

The old man's deep eyes gazed right into mine.

"Ho ho. It feels like I'm speaking to a sage who sees through my soul—even though you're not my grandson's age."

"I just have a keen interest in swords."

'Keen interest' is an understatement—I've lived more than a thousand years as a sword.

"It's just... When you first visited my forge, I knew I couldn't make these swords carelessly."

It takes one to know one.

Just as I instantly recognized him as the real deal when I saw the blade, he also realized at first glance that I was a true swordsman.

"I probably should keep it a secret that a smith of your caliber is here, right?"

"I would appreciate it, but there's no need to go out of your way. How much longer does an old man like me have left? Meeting someone like you—if it's fate, I'll abide by it."

Fwoosh, fwooosh.

The more I looked, the more I liked the sword.

Among all the swords I've brandished in this life, none matched this one.

"I'll keep your secret. In return, I'd like to ask you to make more blades in the future."

"You'll need bigger swords as you grow?"

"Yes."

"Come by anytime."

"Thank you."

An unexpected gain indeed.

* * *

"Wow! What are these patterns on the blade? So cool! But isn't it too thin and light? Looks expensive—what if it breaks?"

"Don't worry. It won't break easily."

"Really? If Evan says so, I believe you. Wow, can't believe this is my first real sword. So awesome."

"Let's go. They told us to be there before lunch."

"Okay!"

A few days ago, we got our enlistment approvals.

We were instructed to return to the unit before lunch today for our admission test.

At last.

Today was enlistment day.

"Whoa."

The inside of the unit was much bigger than I'd thought.

Rows of barracks of various sizes stood in neat lines.

Bricked buildings stood here and there.

The far end seemed to mark the border.

Tall watchtowers were dotted about the place.

At the center, a wide field served as the parade ground.

On one side, soldiers were lined up and training with their swords.

"This way."

Our guide stood in front of a small brick building.

Knock, knock.

"Personnel officer, this is Leonel. I've brought the two new recruits scheduled to join today."

—Come in.

We entered, and a modest office came into view.

One wall was lined with files, presumably holding the personnel information of the unit, as it was the personnel officer's office.

"Welcome. You both look younger than I expected. Welcome aboard."

The personnel officer glanced over our papers.

"Quite the unusual experiences you listed when you applied for enlistment."

The interview began.

Our enlistment was already confirmed, but this would determine which positions we'd be assigned.

"We made those experiences to get into the military."

"You mean you created those resumes just to enlist?"

"Yes."

The personnel officer slowly looked Bastian and me up and down.

"You both hold yourselves well. So, you're Evan Dagon?"

"Yes."

"I've heard all sorts of stories about you around here—you led fifty guild members and defeated a group of 150, wasn't it?"

"I studied military tactics a bit."

"Where?"

A long time ago...

Would they believe me if I said I fought on the battlefield beside the great general Eiker, whom they so admire?

"I'm self-taught."

"Interesting. You two are brothers?"

"We're not blood-related, but it says so in our family registry."

"Our 4th Legion 3rd Battalion accepts siblings enlisting together. If you want, you'll be assigned to the same squad. Do you want that?"

"Yes."

The personnel officer stood up.

He looked sturdier than he did seated.

"Come with me. Let's do a simple test."

* * *

"You both pass the stamina test. Not bad."

Of course, not just me, but Bastian too had been consistently practicing natural breathing.

We'd never fall behind on physical training.

"Now, let's see your swordsmanship. Leonel."

"Yes, personnel officer."

"You said you wanted to take these two under your charge, right?"

"Yes, I did."

So, that soldier named Leonel...

Turns out he wasn't just our guide.

"Test them yourself."

"Yes, sir."

Leonel, who'd been standing beside the personnel officer, came up to us.

"Sorry for the late introduction. I'm Leonel Jorge. I'm captain of the 4th Company."

Oh.

Much higher rank than I expected.

He looked young, so I didn't realize, but being a company commander in the Royal Regular Army meant he commanded 1,000 men—meaning he outranked the ten centurions who each led 100 men.

"Draw your swords. I'll test you both at the same time to make this easier."

Leonel spread his feet shoulder-width apart and bent his knees slightly.

His right hand rested lightly atop the hilt of his sheathed sword.

He hadn't even drawn his blade yet.

So this is a captain...

There was an aura of authority I'd missed when I thought he was just a guide.

He hadn't even drawn his sword, but the way he positioned his left shoulder forward was impressive.

Of course, if Eiker—my sixth comrade—saw this, he'd say there were so many flaws that I'd have to run the parade ground twenty laps in full gear, but at my current level, he was a formidable adversary.

Bastian whispered,

"Evan, what do we do?"

What else?

Even if we lose, we have to show our skills.

Srrng.

I drew my well-forged Damascus steel sword.

A flash of interest appeared in Leonel's eyes as he saw my blade.

Srrng.

Bastian drew his sword right after me.

"Strange kids, volunteering for enlistment... But you carry fine blades. Let's not waste time. Come at me."

Swish.

I slid my left foot forward and advanced.