LOOKING FOR A LOVE DAGGER
“What in the world is going on?”
Hephaistos was annoyed.
She stood in the halls of her home, counting the numerous examples of her own work hanging from the walls, and frowned.
I must have forged something about half a year ago…but I can’t remember what it was.
As a goddess of the forge, Hephaistos remembered each and every piece that crossed her anvil. She recalled every bump and every crease. It was the only way to make sure that nothing she did was ever in vain. She remembered the processes she used, what came of them, the materials, the type of hammer, and even the temperature of the forge. Everything she learned, she poured into her next piece, adding onto a series of works that constantly sought greater heights, each one better than the last.
“And yet there’s obviously something missing. A single weapon I can’t remember at all.”
This was a serious issue. Hephaistos suspected that some outside influence must be manipulating her memory, but that could wait. There was a more pressing concern: What was that weapon like?
Was it conventional or unorthodox?
What was it made of? How high-quality was it? What kind of weapon was it? A sword? A spear? An ax? …Or a knife?
Hephaistos had to solve that mystery before she could even think of unveiling the true cause of these contradictions. What if that weapon had pushed the boundaries of her work? The not-knowing caused Hephaistos so much stress that all she wanted to do was shut herself in her forge and hammer away.
“Lady Hephaistos! Lady Hestia failed to show up for her part-time job again! This is the seventh day in a row!”
“…Why now, of all times?!”
Hephaistos launched herself out of her chair in a rage. Sparing only a glance for the terrified familia member who had reported Hestia’s absence, she stormed off toward the home of the goddess, who—for some reason—owed her two hundred million valis.
She would take out her anger on Hestia, then ask her if she knew anything about the weapon so conspicuously missing from her own memories. Wasn’t it also around half a year ago that the goddess began working for her…?
“You know something about this, don’t you, Hestia?! What weapon did I make?! Tell me! Now!”
“I’m sorry, Hephaistos!!”
The fiery goddess’s rage reduced Hestia to a sorry puddle, and because she tried to whistle hopelessly and act like she knew nothing—because the Freya Familia adventurers breathing down her neck would punish her if she didn’t—she ended up seeing what Hephaistos was like when she was truly angry.
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