In a temperate forest, in a grand Korean town, past 500 years ago, solidly, the blacksmith works for hours,

hammering the red hot steel, imbued with the rarest of materials. To solidify the sword immediately, he dips it into an adjacent metal bucket, and the cold water reacts with a strong hiss and some bubbling. Afterwards, the blacksmith takes a tattered rag and scrapes off the ash, revealing the slim, silver body of the masterful sword. Grimacing, the blacksmith says to himself This should work as good competition to those Western blacksmiths... that Rex and his arrogance, hmph, what a pest, and places the blade on his workbench. Bustling into the room, a young boy says through a gasp Ive got your paint master! And your wood! Hurry up you idiotic apprentice, dont you dare damage those paints, and to hell with you, you better not stain the wood! What is this? the blacksmith yells, you have stained your tunic! Oh you insufferable lout put the paint down on my bench. Babo (that is Korean for idiot)! Carefully, the apprentice places the paint in its wooden bowl, but one topples over and red fluid gushes out. Whoops. The blacksmith only sighs. Give me the brush, boy. With the flick of his wrist, the he tosses the brush to his master. Black and blue paint, please. If you cant make swords then learn to wield one! Not a bad idea, master... He establishes the paint, for once, concentratedly onto the table. Maybe Master Chen can teach me. Hes been to Japan and China, learning the ways of the Shaolin monks and samurai! Maybe one day a samurai will come looking for your sword... For too long the apprentice has attempted to impress his master, maybe now he will.

***** Outside, the blacksmith realizes that the swords paint has dried, the polish ever shining. His cheeks roll up like dough as he smiles. The black and blues of the sword gleam in the sun, like a pure sliver of midnight he comments. The wind flows around the chiseled features of the sword, the metal making beautiful noises as he swings it through the air. Marvelous! *****

Who shall bear the sword, master? the apprentice queries. Sweat trickles down the apprentices face and accumulates on his robes from sudorific jousting. He twists the steel sword in his hands. Tired, the blacksmith releases a breath of air. That is the problem, young one. I do not know. Let us demonstrate the power of the sword to the village. He slides the sword off its rack and into his hand, and the apprentice opens the door for him. Surprisingly, crowds of people have already clustered around the building. The blacksmith looks at the apprentice. He mustve gathered them. Proudly, he heaves the sword into the air and people roar in awe. Birds cry, and the only feeling is of happiness. It is done. The sword is complete. But who is worthy of it? That is the question. I do not know. But news spreads like a virus here, and people from lands all over shall come to see this magnificent sword. My standards are to be kept to myself. If you think you are worthy of this sword, you must come to my residence, he declares. They love me. People around him clap and smile, and in turn so does the blacksmith, for once. Grinning, he turns around to look at his house. Its slightly elevated from the ground on a stone foundation. The roof is corrugated, and slanted so snow would slide off the sides. Back then buildings did not have the structural integrity it does today. It wouldve collapsed if too much snow built up. The walls are stone, and some of them integrated movable wooden panels which acted as doors. ***** Master, the royal guard are here! yells the apprentice. Darn. What are warriors from the emperors palace doing here? Surprised by their visit, the blacksmith tightens his red tunic and slides on some formal sandals. He puts on a necklace of seven beads, for the number 7 is considered lucky. Those arrogant royal guards, they wont get the best of me. The wooden panel slides slowly. A shadow of the royal guard is seen. To add to the effect, the black armor gleams and paintings depicting dragons, crawling around the arms and shoulder seem intimidating. With a thump, he steps into the room. As you know, Ive come to see this... sword, he boasts. Looks like he cant find the right words to say. I am Master Lee, and you are? The blacksmith smiles. The Blacksmith. What a general way to be addressed, the snobby samurai comments. Now, do you wish to participate in verbal jousting or do you want the geom? He seems surprised by my remark. Yes... yes I do... You waste my time, gwichanh-eunh.

Diligently, the blacksmith pulls out the sword and they take a seat. What makes you think you are worthy of this sword? I am a motivated man. I fight for honor, dignity, for Korea! I am loyal. No deception shall befall me, and no criminal left alive. Silence. All the blacksmith does is frown. You. Are not worthy of the sword, he finishes flatly. Furious, the guard leaps out of the seat, cursing in Korean and Japanese. Nonsense! I have no more business with you! Picky old man... Without bothering to bid farewell, the guard slams the sliding panels shut. ***** Glad for that guard to be gone. Quickly, the blacksmith sips down some noodles and shoves some legumes into his mouth, devouring his food like a ravaged wolf. Indefatigable, the apprentice dances on the tip of his toes and taps his master on the shoulder. Youll never guess who came for the sword, he says panting. A dragon? Nothing that extreme, master. A ninja. Brilliant. A warrior from Japan. What next? Where is he? Right here, says a low voice. A small little chain and sickle constrains the blacksmiths throat. The ninja releases, and jumps onto a seat. Silently, a mosquito lingers around his face. His eyes follow with precision, then suddenly a sharp sound emits and the insect falls in two onto the floor. Youve quite the reactions. First of all, what is a Japanese have business here? says the impressed blacksmith. The people here pay well. Besides, the tigers are magnificent. Anyways, I dont want the sword. I need the sword. For doing the dirty work no samurai would dare to do I- No way. Petty assassination work? Hired sword? Get out! Sasohan babo! Enraged, the ninja slashes the bamboo panels open and flees. ***** Who is it this time? Another sword for hire? yells the blacksmith. A knight from the west! the apprentice hollers back from across the house. Unbelievable! With a thump, a plated greave, silver and sturdy, smashes itself onto the floor. Around the corner of the panel a giant stature appears. Articulation on the shoulder and his chest armor, and some spikes on it too. A helmet obscures his face, and bits of his sword are laminated with dry blood. I believe- er hm, excuse me, I know that I am worthy of that sword. Let me examine it, he booms. Take a seat first. Tea, apprentice. How do you know the Korean tongue?

He nods his head in acknowledgement. I would not be a knight without education, whether it is in fighting or diplomatic. Surely you know what I am about to say. I do not fight for honor or glory. We knights are the law, arbiters, we do not tolerate heretics. As you see, Im requesting you hand the sword over for the greater good, for this world will be vanquished of criminals and heretics. Such arrogance will not grant you the sword, knight, replies the blacksmith. Abruptly, the knights back stiffened. I do not concur, but it is your will. ***** Ive found no one... says the blacksmith, depressed. Yes you have... Once again, the ninjas chain and sickle constrained against his throat. Give me it or die, he demands. The apprentice picks it up and walks towards the ninja. To kill him, the apprentice weaves around the ninja and thrusts the sword forward into his chest. Or he thinks so. The ninja is already gone. Out of the shadows, he leaps forward, sword in hand. Clang! He slashes forward. The apprentice bends his knees. Whir. Hair from his head slowly falls to the ground. The sword builds momentum towards his face. Inhale. Raise your sword! He recovers from his position. Clang! The ninjas furious eyes are unhidden. Their blades crossed, the apprentice thrusts his leg into the ninjas groin. Oof! The black assassin leaps back in pain. Now! Aggghhghghg! Still yelling the ferocious battle cry, the apprentice swings the weapon 180 degrees in front at him, his arm comes back behind his back. Thump. The head falls to the ground, the body plops. Torrents of blood shoot up like an erupting geyser. The blacksmith, still paralyzed with shock, says, I think Ive found someone worthy.