He made swords, daggers, anything with an edge that cut, he could make. Being in a coastal trading village allowed him to encounter and study blades from all across the seas. From the thinnest rapiers to the thickest broadswords, he knew how to make them all.
Except one.
It hung over his fireplace, pockmarked and blackened, yet still the sharpest blade he had found. Every so often he would make another attempt to recreate it, trying a new alloy or method, but never working out how to make it.
He just held it to the next cycle of the world.
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