I frowned as I opened the worn leather bag that held the savings that belonged to Nya and I. This was all the money we had to support ourselves. The pouch was much emptier than I would have liked.
Our parents died when I was only five years old, leaving me to watch over my three-year-old sister. Of course, we were first sent to a neighbor in our village, but we couldn’t stay long. The woman we lived with was a widow and could barely support herself, let alone two small children. We left as soon as I was old enough to work and raise Nya. I was only eleven when we moved back into the little house our family lived in. My father was a blacksmith. His shop and forge, the Four Weapons, was attached to our home. I used the knowledge I learned from my father about metalworking, which wasn’t very much, considering my young age when he died. Apart from that, I was a self-taught blacksmith. But it was enough to reopen the Four Weapons and bring in enough money to scrape by.
That was four years ago, and we’re still just scraping by. Nya offered that she could get a job on multiple occasions, but I repeatedly said no to the idea. There were no jobs available in our home village of Ignacia, so the only other option was Ninjago City, and there was no way I was letting my 13-year-old sister spend hours there every day by herself. The scar over my eye reminded me of what a dangerous place that can be for someone so young.
I ran a hand through my spiky brown hair—a nervous habit—and tucked the money bag into its normal spot in the bottom drawer of my father’s work desk. What was left would probably be enough for another week. Maybe two if I skipped meals. I’d have to be discreet if I did that, though. Nya would worry about me if I did, and I didn’t need that kind of pity. I stared at the display of slightly rough knives I had forged that were mounted on the wall of the Four Weapons. My blacksmithing skills were decent now, but I doubted I’d ever reach the level my father did. It was hard to sell the knives not only because they were a bit rough, but also because not many people in Ignacia could afford them. But I couldn’t lower prices. Metal was expensive, and I desperately needed to make a profit.
A knock at the door brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a tall man, probably in his late forties, with neatly styled hair that hovered between black and gray. He wore a tan cloak trimmed with strange embroidery that resembled hieroglyphics. A stiff leather satchel hung from his shoulder. He was obviously rich.
“Hello there!” His voice was kind. “Is your father here?”
“No,” I said, not wanting to go into detail with a total stranger. “I’m in charge. Can I help you?”
“I see.” The man looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. It was as if he knew. I blinked and the look was gone. He pulled out a scroll from his satchel and unrolled it on the table. The scroll itself was obviously old. The parchment was yellowed with age, but the ink was rich and dark. It was a sketch of a long, curved single-edged sword with a handle lengthy enough to accommodate a two-handed grip. A katana, I recognized, and it was incredibly detailed. “My name is Ren, and I need a talented blacksmith to forge this blade.”
I furrowed my brow just looking at the picture. The katana had a scene of a violent battle etched across the length of the blade. The sword’s circular hand guard was brass, and also had etching, but the design depicted mostly roses, which was a stark contrast to the bloodbath shown on the blade. The pattern of the woven cotton cloth that wrapped the long handle almost resembled the pattern of a basket, but lacked the fragility of one.
I had made katanas before, but they usually didn’t turn out very well. The best one I had made was slightly bent. Not enough to notice at first glance, but enough to allow for easy mistakes in combat. And the one the sketch showed was much more complicated.
“I don’t know if I can make this,” I admitted.
“What if I told you this is what I’d pay you?” The man tossed an alarmingly heavy velvet bag of coins onto the table. My eyes widened. The bag itself could easily fetch a pretty penny, and just by the sound it made when it hit the table, I could tell that the money inside would set up Nya and me for months. “However, I will only pay this much if the blade is completed in four days.”
Those words completely extinguished the brief flicker of hope inside me.
“Four days?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. Only professional blacksmiths with power tools had ever pulled off such a task. I only had a few years of experience, and the coal forge, worn anvil, and assortment of handheld tools I owned definitely weren’t power tools. “I… I can’t—”
“You and I both know you need it,” the man said. He must have seen my expression when he pulled out the velvet bag, and he wasn’t wrong.
I bit my lip. “And if I can’t finish in four days?”
“Then I’ll have to find another blacksmith.”
I ran a hand through my hair. The task was impossible. Impossible. But I desperately needed that money. Nya desperately needed that money.
“I’ll do it.” The words had left my mouth before I realized how crazy they were.
He smiled slyly. “I knew you would. I’ll see you in four days...?”
“Kai.”
“I’ll see you at 7:30 on the morning of the fourth day then, Kai.” He thought for a moment while he returned the bag of coins to his satchel. “Kai… your name means ‘fire’ in Greek. May it burn brightly in your forge.”
With that, the man left me to do the impossible.
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