Training of the Jhesta Tu(Closed)

As Fu leng he had risen through the ranks of the Jhesta Tu in the western woods in his time. Among them Fu Leng had found his home more and more turned into what his master thought would be needed. And now, as a budding master, the young man's rooms were little to nothing. He had found a man in Saichuushigai who knew the ways of the Jhesta Tu. He had taken up residence with the Spirit Blacksmith Several windows lined the front wall of the two bedroom abode, facing south and east. They were wide open, as was the doorway, the heavy drapes pulled aside to insure they were not too obscured. The large room the two men stood in was large, but full of black smith equipment and a forge.

Fresh from their exercise that morning the two men moved close to the forge, not caring what others might think. But a slanting ray of morning sunlight streaming through the window caught and illuminated the ivory and gold hilt and crosspiece of his master's sword. Fashioned to resemble the flared, curving neck of one of the great hooded cobras known in these lands, the weapon was going to be his greatest achievement. Fu Leng moved quietly to the handle and stroked it, smiling as he stared at it. He let his fingers trace the crafted lines, taking satisfaction in the solid grip his master had shown him to craft. His fingers circled the designs and slowly worked over the grip that was hidden under the illusion of beauty. The neck tapered just a bit down to the crosspiece, which was comprised of two thinner rods of shining gold plated steel. Even these had been worked intricately by his master so that they bent at their respective ends to form snake heads. Above the crosspiece was a steel rod, just under three feet in length.

Fu Leng looked across the room to the roll of thin metal, much of it already folded to form the sword's blade. Those first few folds had been critical, for his master had to leave an exact opening into which the center pole could be inserted, joining blade to hilt.

Fu Leng released the hilt and stared at it, hardly believing that it had taken years for his master to construct. He remembered the day when his master had showed it to him, smiling all the while with the news that he had crafted it as a child when he began his training. And had been even more surprised, than Fu Leng was now, when his master had returned it to him and given him permission to craft his own sword.

How many thousands of hours had he toiled in this one pursuit, this singular goal? Only now, with the end clearly in sight, did his master appreciate how well those hours had been spent. For he had learned much about himself in these last few years. He had found the limits of his discipline, had learned the patience of a true craftsman. He had been unable to help himself but recall the days, weeks even, when he had managed to only craft a single line of scales on the serpent-headed hilt. And now he worked on the blade no less meticulously, bending one by one the hundreds of folds that would comprise it. Each one of those folds consumed the working hours of a single day.

Even on those days when his master was able to complete the single fold easily, he could not then go on. There was no 'getting ahead' among the Jhesta Tu, a lesson Fu Leng's first master had forgotten to pass on. There was only the process, methodical, and disciplined.

It amazed Adrian, in the guise of Fu Leng, that someone could have the patience to do such a thing. But starting from childhood would probably make sense. When you start doing things early in life they're easier to do later in life. Hell his master had passed the story on more than enough times that it had practically been beaten into Adrian's skull. But then, he knew why his master was passing the knowledge on. Adrian was a good apprentice and had many skills but he lacked most of the things that people learned in the early years of gaining a craft.

But his master saw the spark of the divine, the will to learn. The desire to create something beyond one's own self that every craftsman needed. He saw it in Adrian's eyes, the will to do what he could to build something worthy of legend. And if he saw it, then so could the spirits of the world around them. Then again if Adrian had learned the lessons he claimed he did, then the swordsman probably knew how to work the basics of a blade. But he still needed a master around to insure he was doing his job.

Entering the room was the blacksmith's wife. The woman moved to the 'store front' and placed a small sign outside stating that the blacksmith was currently around and available for consultation. But the two men just stood by the special metal table that the rolled steel was on. The steel itself was called Silverel Steel, something his master said that only a master Spirit Blacksmith could ever know how to craft. Something Adrian would learn at the feet of his master.

All he knew was that it had to do with treating the metal before pressing it. But how it was done escaped him. It appeared that all the craftsman ever did was put bricks of steel and iron into a vat full of a liquid Adrian couldn't identify, and then blocks of wood were put into the vats before they were sealed. Adrian didn't understand how it worked, but he assumed the wood was blessed or something and the liquid was designed to help take the properties of the metals, combine them, and recreate the material the two of them were working with now.

(1009/1009)

They moved slowly, and felt the heat more profoundly with each step forward. For under the table was set an oven, which they had fired up before going out to their morning exercise. Fu Leng picked up another block of coke, slipped a heavy glove onto his left hand, and used an iron poker to pull open the small round hatch. Tossing the fuel in he then paused and watched as the orange glow increased. He watched as lines of smoldering fires ran like living caterpillars across the face of the new block. Above it waves of heat climbed, funneling into the seams of the furnace and table so that it would be properly distributed. Fu Leng closed the furnace hatch and moved to the side of the table. To his right lay the beginnings of the shaped blade, with the unfolded metal sheet running to the right like an unwound bolt of silk. Just past the blade, farther to the left was a raised edge the apex of the heat zone. Slightly glowing in the brightly lit room.

A small diamond-edge rule and cutter, fashioned with a concave edge designed to fight tightly against the edge of the blade facilitated the next part of the process. While Fu Leng watched his master work, he waited. His master slowly, and precisely, ran it across the thin sheet. It drew the line of the next fold and also drew a lighter line indicating the breadth of the overlap area. With his bare hand he watched his master lift the blade and brought it up and over, using all of his focus and discipline to set it precisely in place, so that the scratched line rested perfectly along the raised and heated edge.

Then the apprentice removed his glove, and let the metal sit while the two of them began to wait. They were waiting patiently while finding their center of focus, aligning their ki-chi-kree. This was something that Fu Leng had only just learned. Another thing his former master had failed to teach him. Ki-chi-kree, the mystical and ancient center of the user's chi. The alignment of chakra points in the human body. But the ki-chi-kree was the alignment of body soul and earth. In Adrian's mind he stood there as tendrils of chakra slowly flowed from the base of his spine. It moved down his legs, slowly, before spreading out into the ground under him. Making him one with the Earth, and one with everyone else on it.

“To the Jhesta Tu the crafting of a weapon is more than just a trade. It is more than a weapon. It is an extension of the user's will. Of the craftsman's soul. The weapon is not to be taken lightly, but the crafting is more of a state of meditation than it is something you did actively. If you correctly fold the metal and don't remember doing it you have successfully done what most Jhesta Tu can aspire to do.”

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As they finished what they were doing the two men nodded and moved forward, going to the metal before Fu Leng took up a pair of tongs, He shifted the roll of metal as his master instructed, slowly shifting the blade forming it the way it was supposed to go. But they wouldn't let up on their concentration. The two of them moved as one, his master shifting the blade as they slowly wrapped the heated metal. With a set of hammers his master tapped lightly and Fu Leng brought his own down, his hammers crashing on the metal, slowly working it. The whole time he did this his master began singing, setting cadence with the song. Fu Leng let the song pass through him, letting it guide his strikes in rhythm but his eyes followed his master's instructions, as he slowly worked the fold into place. They worked slowly, taking their time as they went.

When they were done Fu Leng set the hammers aside on a table, then quickly put on the heavy gloves. Moving fast now he folded the blade back over the raised bar and added pressure, so that the fold line was perfectly in place with the edge of their previous work. He pulled it as tightly as his muscles would allow and held it there, squeezing for a long moment. His master satisfied, breathing heavily, Adrian then poured water over the length of the blade, smirking at its hissing protest. He was equally quick to dry the blade, thus hardening the fold.

Then the two males moved to focus more, and added more coke to the oven. Then went back to focusing. And, when his master had judged that the table surface was hot enough once more, he hoisted a long thin block of heavy stone and set it in place atop the blade. Another and another, until the whole blade was covered. The weight of the stones forcing the folded metal tight against the blazing metal surface. Then the two of them left to take their morning meal. Their work this day wasn't nearly done, of course. When they returned he had to remove the stones and cool the blade. Then he would use a diamond-encrusted file to finish the tip of the last fold, scraping it down, hour by hour, so that it fell into exact place of the triangular sword tip. Tomorrow they would do it again, exactly the same way. Enough days would produce the sword his master had spent years working on. And Fu Leng was lucky enough to be working on this piece of art with the older blacksmith. It would give him a sense of accomplishment and when he made his own sword, he would have a sense of ownership. That he had taken a simple sheet of metal and so crafted it into a beautiful weapon, a true work of art, an extension of his martial training. But most of all something he could be truly proud of.

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