High & Half and the Town of Wheat (8)

Once I started accepting blacksmithing work, naturally, I spent less time with Win.

But I also felt that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

For example, knowing that I'd get to see Win as soon as I returned home somehow made me more focused on my blacksmithing during the day.

I reattached the fittings on armor damaged through use, sewed up tears, reinforced and polished it, applied oil, and... before I knew it, the sun was already sinking.

Once the sun began to sink, I returned to the inn, where Win would greet me.

That made me truly happy.

Or I would hammer bent weapons back into shape, or melt them down and remake them when they were beyond repair.

I cast and forged new ones, and when materials or fuel ran low, I ordered more through the blacksmiths' guild staff. Spending my days that way, six days passed in a flash.

Then the seventh day was a day off, and I walked through town with Win.

Knowing—and seeing—that he looked forward to my days off made it all the more adorable and enjoyable.

This also seemed to be having a positive effect on Win.

Since he spent his days with Nonna, his list of acquaintances kept growing through her, a well-connected woman born and raised in this town.

For Win, the biggest thing was interacting with the town's children, whose development was close to his, regardless of their actual ages.

There were children about his own level, children a little more developed than him, and children younger than him.

Win was gradually learning that each called for a different way of interacting.

In other words, his world was expanding.

This was something he could never have gained, no matter how much he wanted it, within a closed relationship consisting only of Win and me.

Well, it hadn't been all that long since I'd met him either, and we were still in the process of building our relationship.

I swung my hammer, making the metal ring, and worked the bellows, gauging the mood of the fire spirit dancing in the furnace.

Then I listened to what Win had done that day, and told him about my own day in return.

Every day, I swung my sword a set number of times, and spent my spare time reading even a little of the books containing spell formulas...

Ah, no amount of time was ever enough, yet those days were busy and gentle.

Of course, it wasn't as if everything was good.

Sometimes Win came home in tears after a neighborhood child made him cry, and even I had aspiring apprentices come crowding into my forge.

If Win were a little older... say, at least a human boy in his teens, I would teach him how to throw punches as the proper etiquette when someone picked a fight with him, but at his current age, it was too soon.

As for the would-be apprentice who had barged into the forge, he wasn't actually serious about learning the craft; he was only trying to use the novelty of an elven blacksmith to make a name for himself, so after talking things over, I politely sent him on his way.

It had been what you might call a dwarf-style discussion, though.

Of course, unless the other person was a rough fisherman or blacksmith, resorting to one's fists against anyone wasn't a very good approach.

So I would teach Win how to handle a fight only after he could tell the difference between mere violence and communicating through fists, and had learned to read the atmosphere.

When that time came, I'd prepare him a pair of gloves made from Greed Boar leather to match my own.

Brawling and fighting in battle were entirely different things, however, and the latter was a means of survival.

Presumably, once the situation in the Kingdom of Rudoria settled down and we left this town for Kaeha's dojo, Win would naturally end up handling a sword.

That was why, before then—before he became completely immersed in the sword—I wanted to teach him at least enough about other things to let him experience them.

But a bow would put too much strain on Win's body while his limbs were short and his bones were still undeveloped.

As for magic, if he learned only how to move mana without the proper knowledge, there was far too great a risk that he would activate magic in strange ways.

If I were to teach him magic, it would be after he learned letters and could read books, and after he had developed a broad perspective and a spirit that was not easily shaken.

I had no intention of having him undergo an aptitude test using fairy silver while he was still a child, since it might lead him to learn how to move mana.

Then what would I teach Win? Naturally, it would be how to ask spirits for help.

In other words, what people generally called spirit arts.

...And so, today, after finishing six days of work, I had brought Win to climb a low hill near the town of Jampemon.

You could call it a little hike.

Nonna had seemed to want to come too, but I felt bad about it; this time, I had to ask her to sit it out.

It would have been fine if we were simply going on a hike, but if I wanted to sense the spirits' presence, her exuberant presence would inevitably be too overpowering and get in the way.

It was difficult for a small child to make it all the way up the hill on foot, so after we walked until Win was satisfied, I carried him the rest of the way to the top.

Today, the sunlight was soft, as if the weather itself were looking out for us, and the breeze was mild and pleasant.

From the top of the hill, we could see all of Jampemon and the surrounding wheat fields.

"Wow, what a view."

Still holding Win, I sat down in the grass.

With surroundings this favorable, the rest would be easy.

After all, the spirits—especially the wind spirit that had been with Win all this time—were practically fidgeting, eager for someone to ask them for something.

Calling it "spirit arts" might make it sound grandiose, but in reality it was simply asking spirits for something and having them help; it wasn't really grand enough to be called an art.

Of course, borrowing great power required various things: an exact image, the attunement and empathy needed to convey it, and control to prevent more destruction than necessary. But that was a much later concern.

Basically, all one had to do was understand the hearts of spirits and nature, deepen one's bond with them, ask for their help, and thank them.

Hmm, that might be a little complicated as an explanation for a child.

In short, if you got along with spirits, they would grant small requests, and the spirits themselves were happy to be relied upon.

"So all that's left is for you to actually ask the wind spirit for something, but that looks difficult for you, Win."

I looked down at Win in my arms and murmured that.

This child reacted to things given to him and was happy to receive them.

He had even started showing a little something like attachment.

But apparently, asking for something himself was simply too difficult for him.

That was precisely why I wanted Win to learn how to interact with spirits all the more.

It was very important in life not only to be given things, but to want and ask for something yourself.

Well, in any case, I supposed I should start by piquing Win's interest.

I took a large bundle of leaves from my pack—leaves I'd asked the trees along the way to share with me.

"Wind spirit,"

I sent them dancing in the whirling wind.

This would have been an ordinary sight to me, who had grown used to such phenomena, but it must have looked fantastical to young Win.

In my arms, he reached out with shining eyes, trying to grab a leaf that passed nearby.

But the wind spirit smoothly whisked the leaf away from Win's hand and danced around, laughing merrily.

Yet when I opened my pack, the wind rushed toward it with a whoosh, and all the leaves were sucked inside.

Win blinked repeatedly in surprise and looked up at me.

"Now, why don't you try it, Win? It's all right. Just ask the wind to blow the way you want it to. All you have to say is, 'Blow.' That's right, it's okay. The wind spirit wants to play with you, too."

He took the pack from me with some trepidation and pulled out several leaves.

From then on, the wind kept blowing atop the hill until the sun sank and the sky turned red.