Let Mama Direction Take Care Of You

She looked at the sword set haphazardly on the ground, leaning against one of the working anvils. She remembered the time she spent working on that sword. It seemed so little and frail now compared to what she could make years later.

Phaedra began to shovel coal into a pit and prepared the fire. The heat was immense in the small room and her proper dress was not going to be a good working uniform, but all her clothes were back home. She took a pair of scissors from the wall and began to cut carefully at pieces of the dress. First to go were the sleeves, allowing her toned, yet scarred arms to have a full range of motion. Next, she cut around the neckline of her dress, aerating her chest. Finally, she cut the dress short enough to not trip her up as she shuffled back and forth from the fire to the working area. By the end, most of her dress was a pile of scraps on the floor. Though it wasn’t her usually work wear, it would do for the work she was about to dive into.

Once Phaedra tied on her long apron and slipped on her protective gloves she went to work. Holding up the slight sword, she was able to inspect the item with deft precision. She saw the imperfections and blemishes in the blade. She did this while one foot pedaled the bellows, allowing air to filter through the hot coals. Though she was miles from home, the forge felt right, and the warmth from the fire was comforting.

The fire and Phaedra had a long courtship. She had to learn how to respect the fire and its power. The light scarring on her arms and hands were all lessons learned. Each mark telling a story of the time she spent training to be a master bladesmith. When she finally felt the fire was ready and she plunged the blade of the sword into the fire. As it sat, she began to untie the old and tattered silk that laced around its handle. She ran it through her fingers before expertly using the silk to tie her hair back into a simple ponytail.

Phaedra hummed softly to herself as she began to hammer and smooth out the aged metal. The dried blood that once ran through her veins melted off in the heat of the fire, disappearing into the blade itself. The color turned from a darkened gray to a bright red and white, the colors fading with each strike of her hammer.

The metal was under her control, smoothing and elongating at her touch. She knew exactly where the breaking point was and made sure to ride the metal until it was at its point. Then she’d let it rest and start the process over again. Once the blade was to her liking, she dipped the length into thick oil. She watched with excitement as the heat of the blade and the conductive nature of the oil created a fire that licked up the measure of the sword. Once the flames began she pulled out the burning weapon and dipped it into water. Steam rose like a ghost and the water hissed and bubbled as it cooled the metal inside the barrel.

She then laid the finished piece onto a table where she began to inspect the handle. She took a few measurements and went to find some wood she could lay onto it to create a more comfortable grip. She took the same time in sanding the wood, making sure it would be a sizeable companion to the long but narrow blade. She once again used fire to burn into the wood and slowly worked the wood onto the handle, creating a lasting bond.

Though the wood was smooth and natural, Phaedra decided to go around the edges of the wood with a hot piece of metal, burning a simple filigree design. Her father always taught her that it was small touches like this that showed the mark of a true smith: each small detail reflecting the character of its maker.

When it was finally done, Phaedra pulled off her protective gear and held up the sword in one hand. It was light and easy to work with, gliding effortlessly through the air as she swung it. Phaedra brought the small blade out of the forge, looking up at the sky as the sun began to sink into the horizon beyond the brick of the castle walls. She carried the sword at her side, letting it drag along the dirt as she walked around to where her wood was stored.

Phaedra let it rest on the pile of wood and she stacked up a couple of logs to create a makeshift target. She tested it for balance by shaking it with her hand before reaching for the newly smithed sword. She held it in both hands, standing tall in front of her target. She watched as the sinking sun bounced light off of the blade and reflected against her skin. With a quick movement, the light shifted and the sword hit the wood chipping off a sizable chunk.

Phaedra kept hitting the target, blow after blow without hesitance. It was an elegant dance of her body and sword becoming one. She used this time to transport herself out of the castle and back home in her village. She didn’t think about the person she had killed that morning, the poor girl who was trapped in her own broken heart. Phaedra didn’t have time for pain, there was too much of it in the world, and she didn’t want any part of it. With each chop the world faded away, there was only her heartbeat, her controlled breath, and the few beads of sweat that rolled down her neck.

Louis had spent the day passing judgment on his people, leaving most of them dead. That was the problem if you had a birthday that fell later in the week positions were quickly filled. If you weren’t needed then you were disposed of, that simple. Louis worked with his council for the rest of the afternoon, not stopping until he heard the rapid chopping of metal against wood. He stood from his desk and looked out the window, seeing Phaedra with a dramatically shorter outfit and her hair tied from her face hacking away at a stack of wood.

“Are you seriously thinking of keeping the human?” A tall, well dressed demon from his council asked, watching as his Duke rose and stared out the window.

“I am.” Louis replied without hesitation.

“But sir, why? She is a simple girl with an outdated skill. We can get all the weapons we need from Hell.”

“Harry,” Louis began as he tore his eyes from the girl, “Do not question me.”

The curly headed brunette signed while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

Louis turned his head back to Phaedra, watching as she danced around her target so skillfully.

“You all are dismissed.” Louis commanded to his council. “My new weapon looks ready.”

Louis quickly left the room and his men behind and began his journey alone through the castle and down to the forge where Phaedra stood next to a rather ragged looking piece of wood.

“You know that wood was meant to be for fires, not targets.” Louis commented as he entered Phaedra’s small fighting space.

Phaedra stopped and bowed slightly to her Duke when she heard his words. She smiled faintly as she straightened, using the back of her arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

“It was all I had to use for today, sir. Perhaps you would be willing to provide actual targets for my use?” Phaedra asked as she let the tip of the sword stand between her legs, her palms resting against the hilt.

“We can arrange for targets, Miss Williams.” Louis replied as he eyed the blade. “Is my gift up to par now?” He asked curiously.

Phaedra nodded and held out her sword with the blade resting on her palms. She realized at the moment that he was alone and without the normal protection of his guards.

Louis grabbed the sword and admired the smooth edges and decorative handle. It was amazing what the girl could do with such little time.

“You’ve done well.” He mused as he swung the sword in front of him. “Much better than what you made me originally.”

“I know.” Phaedra replied confidently. “I’m surprised you’d let me have a sharp object around you since I tried to kill you yesterday.”

Louis laughed loudly as he swung the sword in front of his body.

“Do you think that little dagger could’ve killed me? It would take much more than that to pierce my skin hidden beneath this body.” Louis replied as he looked at the girl, a smirk coming to his face.

Phaedra felt the tension in her stomach release when she saw the Duke smile at her. She knew that he was pleased and his taunting was a good sign. She knew that her work was good, but you were never safe from a demon’s temper. The only problem with her stomach was the ungodly noise that erupted after. Phaedra’s hands quickly pressed to the stomach in hopes of quieting the sound.

Louis eyes widened in response and he let out a laugh. “Phaedra, are you hungry?”

Phaedra’s face turned red and she straightened once again.

“I am. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.” She responded sharply, “You were awfully quick to lock me up and put me to work I hardly thought you’d notice I’m a human.” She grumbled.

“Ah, hangry.” He replied. “I’ll send food down to you tonight. Forgive me.”

Phaedra and Louis locked eyes as the sun began to make its final decent into the horizon and it was then that Louis saw what he remembered years ago: a fire inside her eyes. Though her eyes were a deep brown, he could see the spark of life in her. It was something that he only saw in his fellow demons, and yet it here in this human’s eyes.

Phaedra wasn’t immune to the gaze they shared. She saw the fire inside of him and remembered the time she first locked eyes with him some years ago. It was a bit different now, she could hold her own and recognize how powerful this pull was. She quickly pushed the feeling down and broke her gaze with the male.

“Thank you. I don’t want to keep you. You should return to your duties.” Phaedra smiled faintly and tucked her hands behind her back. Louis noticed how shredded and dirty her dress was when she did this and he sighed.

“I’m not doing a very good job of keeping you, am I?” Louis asked in a chuckle, slightly nervous.

“To be clear, you are not keeping me.” Phaedra blurted. “I’m a person, not a pet.”

“Right…” Louis murmured, his smile returning. “Though, you are mine. I did save you from a horrible death.”

Phaedra saw his smile and she couldn’t help it, she rolled her eyes and waved him off.

“I think you should get back to your duties, sir.” She browed slightly and held her face together to hide the smile peeking from the corners of her lips.

“Yes, well…” Louis started, “Thank you again for the sword. It’s much better than the original. It’ll look stunning in my study.”

There was a pause and the sun finally sank, leaving the two in an eerie twilight.

“Goodnight, sir.”