Chapter 45
Before sunset, after checking out of the inn, I was brought to Kaushuman's atelier.
His atelier was something he'd inherited from his dwarf master, Rajudor, and it came equipped with a smithy.
For some reason, that smithy gave me a strangely nostalgic feeling.
Perhaps—yes, I sensed the same atmosphere here as in the smithy where I'd spent time in Vistcote, in the Kingdom of Rudoria.
The forge had probably been left unlit all this time, but the smithy had been thoroughly cleaned, showing me how dearly this place was cared for.
That gave me one more reason to like Kaushuman.
Though he couldn't practice smithing, he cared for the smithy. No—someone who could care for a smithy despite being unable to smith would undoubtedly become a fine blacksmith.
"I'll teach you smithing. You teach me magic. At the same time, we'll cooperate, each using our own specialty, to create magic swords. When we fight, we'll settle it with our fists, dwarf-style. ...These are the terms, correct?"
Kaushuman nodded at my confirmation and held out his right hand once more.
I gripped it firmly in return.
Well, with that, Kaushuman and I were now comrades who mattered to one another.
The wind of fate, which I hadn't felt at all since coming to Odine, was now blowing with incredible force.
Unable to contain my excitement, I lit the fire in the smithy's forge.
Above all, I was simply delighted to be able to work in this smithy, which felt almost nostalgic.
"Then I'll start by forging something, but what should it be? Kaushuman, how far have you gotten? What do you want to learn?"
I fed charcoal I'd bought at the blacksmiths' guild into the forge and watched for the fire spirit's mood.
The fire spirit, which had slept and slept without any fire to inhabit, let out a huge yawn.
The air around us was sucked into the forge, and the fire flared with a whoosh.
Lighting the forge completely transformed the atmosphere of the smithy.
Yes, just as the fire spirit had awakened, the smithy had awakened as well.
Heat slowly radiated out and filled the room.
Kaushuman narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the smithy in this state.
"Ah, no... Anything, anything is fine. Right now, I just want to hear the sound of iron being hammered."
What a wonderful answer he gave me.
He must have loved his dwarf master, who had taught him magic.
But I loved my damned dwarf master even more.
No, yes—anyway, what should I forge?
"Yeah. ...Then first—well, since we'll eventually forge a magic sword, I suppose I'll start with a sword."
Kaushuman's eyes lit up at my words.
Like a boy's.
I knew exactly what he wanted to say.
And that feeling wasn't unpleasant at all.
Smithing was my wing, and magic was Kaushuman's; we were birds with only one wing each.
With the goal of creating a magic sword before us, we had no choice but to cooperate and fly.
Yes, at least until we had acquired one another's skills, become two-winged, and could pursue our goal under our own power, making each other unnecessary.
And surely, by then, we would be friends.
From the next day onward, I spent my mornings learning magic from Kaushuman.
I began with how to interfere with the magic power inside my own body.
Without mastering this, no matter how much magic I learned, it would all be useless, and I wouldn't even be able to handle magic tools.
However, I had already experienced that sensation once during the aptitude test.
When I tried to recreate it while recalling that experience, interfering with the magic power inside my body was not particularly difficult.
Apparently, many apprentices stumbled here and spent a long time on it even after passing the aptitude test. Kaushuman himself had apparently once been one of them, so the look in his eyes was a little complicated as he watched me clear the hurdle without a hitch.
Well, it couldn't be helped.
Even setting me aside, high elves were probably just unreasonable creatures by nature.
No one could do anything about differences between races unless they were some godlike being.
Setting that aside, once I had grasped how to interfere with magic power, push it outside my body, and make it flow, all that remained was to learn spell formulas.
Then what were spell formulas? They referred to every element that affected magic power.
Words, intentions, patterns, and the like could affect magic power, altering its nature or imbuing it with an attribute.
All of these were spell formulas.
For example, apparently, if you released magic power while feeling anger, the person affected by it would feel something like pressure.
Normally, unless someone was a mage or naturally sensitive to it, they wouldn't notice even if they were exposed to raw magic power.
But when the spell formula of anger was added to it, the magic power acquired a slight physical pressure.
Of course, besides emotions, many things could serve as spell formulas, including spoken words and patterns carved into objects.
Mages studied how these spell formulas affected magic power, analyzed the underlying principles, recorded and accumulated their findings, and combined them to create magic.
In other words, magic was a technique born from the crystallized efforts of the mages who had come before.
I see. No wonder mages hated spirit magic, which could produce effects greater than magic itself simply because its practitioners could converse with spirits from birth.
From their perspective, elves who could borrow the power of spirits must have seemed like they were cheating.
"But that's like saying you're jealous that birds can fly or that dragons can breathe fire. You don't need to worry about such petty jealousy. If you want to learn magic and have the aptitude for it, then it's perfectly fine for you to learn it."
While teaching me the spell formulas that heated magic power through both words and patterns, Kaushuman said this.
He never held back when sharing his knowledge with me.
Yes, in the end, that too was simply a difference between races.
Something no one could do anything about.
Then there was no reason to worry about it anymore.
I liked Kaushuman a little more.
As we took turns teaching each other smithing and magic, we also talked about what kind of magic sword would be ideal.
Whether to make a magic sword that pursued a sword's essential purpose and maximized sharpness.
Or one that was sturdy, difficult to break, never deteriorated, and loyally remained at its owner's side.
Or whether we were captivated by the flamboyance of a magic sword that emitted flames.
We discussed such childlike fantasies innocently and without ever tiring of it.
Because, yes, we were boys.
We simply couldn't get enough of weapons brimming with that kind of romantic appeal.