Blake's first impression of the smith was his size – he was larger than Ghira or Professor Port, and while that didn't intimidate her it was a bit of a surprise. So far, all the people she'd seen in the city tended towards lithe, slight figures, and it threw her briefly for a loop. His eyes swept over her, lingering on her ears for a moment... and then he nodded.
"You'll be the girl, then." She'd expected a deep, booming voice, but it was smooth and soft.
"The girl?" Her eyebrow raised.
"There's only one Wilder girl in the city, to my knowledge, and she's the one I owe something." The smith scoffed at her. "So, girl, are you a smith?"
"My name is Blake." Her eyes narrowed, but rather than glaring she let them roam around the shop Veve had led her to. A variety of weapons were displayed across the walls, and they were... very well-crafted. She couldn't feel magic from them, but...
They are not magical, precisely. But neither are they mundane.
"And, no. I only know some maintenance. But one of my... partners is. It's her passion."
"Call me Milo, then. So what exactly are you hoping to learn here, if you aren't a smith yourself?" The smith crossed around the shop's counter, rolling his shoulders as he stood.
She shrugged. "I don't know. But she'd be disappointed if I didn't at least find out about your styles."
He eyed her, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "Hmm. She's one of those types, then. How much do you actually know about soulsmiths?"
"Only what Veve and Geran have told me."
He shook his head. "We'll start with the basics, then. Here." He pulled one of the blades from the wall, before pausing. "You know how to handle a sword?" At her nod, he handed the sheathed blade to her. "Tell me what you notice, then."
Blake held the broadsword for a moment, tilting it in her hands and examining it. It was... plain, but exceptionally made. No decorations or personal touches like you'd expect to find on a Huntsman's weapon, save for a maker's mark etched into the hilt. She drew it forth and was surprised by how quietly it left the scabbard, before examining the edge closely.
How interesting.
What?
I cannot identify the material.
She blinked. After turning the blade in the light a few times she gave it a few practice swings. "It's light," she finally observed. "Much more than I'd expect. And it feels..." She scowled as she struggled for the words. "It feels like it were made specifically for me."
He nodded. "You do know your weapons, then." He held out a hand, and she sheathed the blade before returning it to him. "Come. Sit, and I'll explain the concept to you. I can't teach you any techniques, you understand... but the theory? Maybe."
They sat, and he cleared his throat. "The idea of soulsmithing goes back to Omen Ciel. He, of course, did something completely different, for it was his Nature... but all soulsmiths emulate him, to a degree. We simply lack the shortcut of forging purely from our souls. Instead, we pour ourselves into our works, and leave a piece of our soul in everything we forge."
"You leave a piece of yourself behind...?"
"The soul is robust, Blake, and it replenishes itself. During every step of the process of creation, we weave our souls through our craft. And... well. You're an Awakened yourself, you know what effects an Awoken soul has upon a man. It has a similar effect on a weapon, or a shield, or on armor. Stronger, more resilient, with more freedom of movement..."
"You knew I was an... Awakened?"
"Geran told me."
"Ah..."
"Even if he hadn't, I would have known when you tested the blade." At her curious look, Milo chuckled. "You mentioned it felt like it was meant for you. That is unique to the Awakened, because the soul of the blade follows your own soul. Anyone can use soulsteel, and it will be stronger and lighter. They can even use their specific traits. But for an Awakened, it's different. It's... more." His voice took on a wistful tone for a moment.
"...Specific traits?"
"Ah, I haven't mentioned those. You're familiar with the differing Natures of souls, of course... well, what do you think happens with a piece of a unique soul is infused into steel? An echo remains. Each smith's Nature is reflected in their craft, without exception. Some are known for crafting blades and shields that almost pull themselves to intercept attacks upon their wielders, or for armor that influences its bearer to stand just so to defend those around him. Some craft weapons that leave wounds that linger longer than they should, or that always return to their wielders. It all depends upon the smith."
How curious... this explains much. The material here is similar to others within the city, but if each is distinct due to their creators, it would explain the subtle differences.
Is that useful information?
Perhaps. Time will tell. In theory, it could provide a link to the creator of an item.
"What are you known for? If I can ask."
Milo smiled. "Nothing I have crafted has ever been known to break."
She'd received another invitation from Veve, this time for dinner. Yet, this time, there was a third person present at the table.
"Ah... Hello, Blake." Salem's smile was weak, but seemed genuine.
"...Hello, Salem. I didn't know you'd be here." Blake winced internally at the way Salem's eyes flickered when she said that.
"You've already met? Well... hmph." Veve pouted, and Blake had to goggle at the sheer absurdity that she was watching an actual Princess pouting. "Oh well. Come and sit, Blake. Tell us about your adventure today! Did you find what you were seeking at the smith?"
"I'm not even certain what I was seeking." She shook her head, but took the offered seat regardless. "But I learned a lot more than expected."
"You're... a scholar, then?" Salem's eyes bored into her.
"Something like that."
The conversation lulled as they ate. Veve's gaze swept back and forth between the two of them before she planted a smile on her face. "Speaking of that, Blake. Do you recall our conversation on the Nature of souls?" Blake blinked at her in response. "I believe you made a comment about knowing yourself through your own Nature. Would you care to elaborate? The topic of souls often comes up between us, and a third perspective would be marvelous."
Blake chewed on her lip for a moment. I don't know how much I can really trust them.
If they intended you harm, they would have already brought it.
I know, but it's different talking about this kind of thing. It's going to get personal.
It is your decision to make.
"I... suppose." Leaning back in her chair, she considered the topic, casting her mind back to recall what exactly she'd been saying.
"My point was... complicated. Knowing your own S- ...Nature is important for pragmatic reasons, obviously, but it's more than that. I know a lot of people that never even considered what it meant for them to have the Nature that they did. They aren't random, they're expressions of who we are." A sigh. "I thought a lot about my Nature. Why I had it, what it said about me as a person... and I hated it." She closed her eyes, ignoring the rapt attention from the two sisters. "I hated what it meant, even as I used it over and over."
"Hated? Past tense?" Salem brushed her hair behind one ear, her eyes fixed firmly on Blake's face.
Blake hesitated. "...There was a moment." A train station, hidden beneath a ruined city. A thief in one direction, and a team in the other. The Flame... or the city. "There was a decision I had to make, and my instinct was to make the wrong one. To run away and chase the short-term relief instead of facing the underlying problem." She took a deep breath. "If I hadn't known, consciously, that I was inclined to make that choice... I wouldn't have been watchful. I wouldn't have chosen correctly."
"Hmm." Salem's index finger tapped against the table. "So, essentially, your position is that... by knowing your Nature, and identifying its origins, you gain knowledge of yourself."
"Even if it isn't something you want to know about yourself." Blake nodded. "It's still important. I wish I could simply ignore the parts of myself I... dislike, but life isn't that easy."
Salem's finger faltered, idly brushing across the wooden surface. "I don't think it's always valuable. If knowing the truth behind the Nature of your soul will only bring you pain, isn't it better to remain ignorant?"
"Sure. But... only bring you pain? Pain's never isolated. It's a lesson." Slowly, Blake raised her right hand into the air, watching the dark fingers flex. "And it can be a very effective one."
"Most people shy away from using pain as a teacher." Salem's voice was disinterested, but the focus in her eyes was piercing.
"There's good reasons for that. But... sometimes, it's the only way we learn." A dreamscape where Heroes killed, again and again and again... "I suppose... I don't think that it's always worth knowing why your Nature is what it is. But I do think it's worth deciding whether it's worth it or not, instead of just ignoring it."
Blake's yellow eyes met Salem's blue, and for a moment neither of them moved. Then Salem sighed and leaned back. "Well. That, I suppose I can't disagree with. You... put a great deal of thought into this."
"I learned a long time ago that uninformed opinions... lead to bad decisions."