After playing a mad game of tag with my goddess yesterday, I had barely survived by offering her the week's worth of full-course dinners at the Hostess of Fertility that my senior had promised to buy me. Damn it, my dinner money...
"Hmm, it's past noon now, so [Braver] should be arriving soon..."
"Were you waiting for me?"
"...Could you please make your presence known? Yes, I was waiting for you."
Jesus, I thought my heart had stopped...
"So, have you worked out an estimate?"
"Yes, I have a rough idea. I need to take precise measurements and adjust the finer details."
"Measuring means it's for the gauntlet, right?"
"Yes. For now, this way..."
I led him into the workshop farther inside, rather than the smithy. If I left paper and documents in the smithy, they would be liable to catch fire.
"First, please gently press your palm and then your forearm into this clay. It needs to be as precise as possible, so I would appreciate it if you could roll your sleeve up to your shoulder."
Press.
"Like this?"
"Yes. I'll use this to get the rough length, then measure you directly with a ruler to reduce the margin of error."
Rattle.
Let's see... As expected, Da Vinci was right. The golden ratio is 1 to 1.618—roughly 5 to 8.
Finn Deimne, who stood 119 centimeters tall, had an arm length close to the result calculated from the golden ratio. 45.7 centimeters. Making it too exact would only make it uncomfortable to move in, so I settled on 46 centimeters.
"But what kind of weapon am I getting? Can I look forward to it?"
"Yes, of course you can. It is the weapon of a hero, after all. If you truly are a warrior, [Braver], it is a weapon you will not be able to look away from."
"Oh..."
It vanished quickly, but what appeared in his eyes was unmistakable greed—the gaze of a warrior desiring exceptional armaments.
"How much do you know about my Magic?"
"Hmm... The letter said that you imbue weapons you forge with the Noble Phantasms in your memories... Something like that."
"Is that so? I have one request. When you return to the Familia Home, would you burn that letter?"
"You're quite thorough, aren't you?"
"It is my only trump card."
"Don't worry. I burned it as soon as you left."
"Thank you. To continue, it is not as though I can simply imbue any weapon whatsoever with a Noble Phantasm."
"The most important things are the materials, the process, and the stature and symbolism of the finished product."
"As for this weapon, no materials or process have been passed down, so all I have to do is forge it myself."
"But its stature and symbolism are different matters."
"By stature, I mean that I must create a vessel worthy of this Noble Phantasm entirely through my own skill."
"If I were to make some ordinary second- or third-class weapon and then try to complete it, there is a high chance I would fail, or that it would be unable to display its proper power. I would only disappoint you."
"Symbolism is a more complicated matter. From this point on, the person who will wield the weapon can also become part of the forging process."
"For example, the original owner of the spear I will forge was the guardian and hero of a city."
"To protect that city, he single-handedly tipped the scales of war against an army far beyond his ability to face. Had he not failed at a single crucial moment, he might have pulled those scales down completely."
"He was the city's guardian, and he became the citizens' hero."
"Doesn't that sound like someone else's story?"
I continued speaking as I took measurements of his arm and copied them into the notebook beside me.
"Rising alone as the guardian of the Prums,"
Finn Deimne's arm gave a small twitch.
"Trying to tip the scales by himself against all those who see the Prums as weak,"
I could feel how pleased he was from the way he clenched and unclenched his fist.
"[Fashioning] himself into a hero of his race, he seeks to become a torch standing wholly on its own."
His arm, which had been moving continuously, went still.
"I believe that you, of all adventurers, are the one most suited to this armament's symbolism."
When I raised my head to look at [Braver], his face was horribly twisted, yet he was happy at the same time.
Was he smiling, or was he crying? Only he would know the truth.
"As the only person in this Orario who remembers [Illusions], I dare say this with certainty."
I spoke to him with all my sincerity.
"There is no one more suited to this [Durindana Pilum (Unmarred Polearm)] than [Braver]."
A brief silence passed, and Finn Deimne lowered his head, letting out a low laugh.
Then, when he raised his head again, he wore not the sly old-snake smile he had shown until now, but a smile so bright that it seemed a boy his age, one suited to his appearance, had taken possession of his body.
"...Thank you. Until now, Gareth and Riveria were the only ones who had ever affirmed my dream of restoring the Prums, my dream of becoming the Prums' hero... You really do live long enough to see everything."
"I merely said what I thought."
"That alone was enough. I think we're going to become close from now on."
With those words, [Braver] held out his hand and offered a handshake.
I stared blankly at that hand before taking it and shaking it.
"...I look forward to working with you."