The Weeping Swordsman

“To protect the ones I love,” the boy responded.

Hades turned to him, then back to his master; he had no response. The disappointment in his master’s eyes was obvious. A blade to protect a soul felt silly and unnecessary. After all, a friend of today could become an enemy of tomorrow. So, what happens next? Will the blade betray the one it once pledged to protect? Or will it shed blood without mercy or tears? These questions raced through the young boy’s mind like a whirlwind.

The rain was heavy and the weather cool. Mr. Swordsman stood outside the meat shack, observing the decapitated head of his foe. He returned his sword back in his scabbard. Memories he had hidden and rejected resurfaced. Same for the name he wanted to forget, leaving him with a nasty feeling in his gut. He had defeated the strange swordsman but was still not at ease. Hades picked up the head, shivering at first glance. His face was blank with no bodily features, his skin was rough like leather and his blood wasn’t that of a human. He was a puppet, one controlled by no strings. He had heard tales of something similar from long ago, creatures who enjoy the glee of trickery and chaos. Manipulation was their game and people were their pawns to play. And this was just another victim. Who would enjoy this? He wondered. And why did they even bother playing as him?

Mr. Swordsman let out a soft chuckle, finding it quite amusing that he was the weeping swordsman. He had never paid much attention to the rumors surrounding the weeping swordsman, always dismissing the topic. This swordsman possessed incredible strength, wielded a peculiar blade, and accomplished extraordinary feats, but Mr. Swordsman didn’t bother delving into the specifics of these rumors. He only acknowledged that they shared something in common.

Placing the severed head back on the floor, he watched it as the rain grew heavier. Despite his gratitude to the puppet swordsman, he had no answers to the questions plaguing his mind. However, he had a duty to fulfill. For a long time, he had wandered the lands in solitude, cherishing even the briefest moments of companionship. They took Pasta into custody, and although they might not be aware of his association with Hudson, they would perceive him as a criminal who had attacked the guards at the gate.

Tori, Emilia, and Hudson had gone after the guards, and the storm showed no signs of abating. The worst-case scenario would be if they were all apprehended, leaving him with no choice but to rescue them. The true worst-case scenario would be death, and that was not an option. Adjusting his hat, he leaped from roof to roof, feeling a sense of nostalgia in the cold air and the lingering tension from the previous skirmish.

As he traversed the empty streets, he couldn’t determine whether the emptiness was because of the rain or the recent fight. Hades swiftly followed the same path as the others through the town, but they were nowhere to be found.

*

Sparrow grasped the weapon, taking in its dark, solid exterior. The complex inner workings caught his eye. Questions raced through his mind: How did it function? Who came up with its design? How fast could it end a life?

Darkness enveloped his space, with leaves rustling and wind howling throughout the area. A fire burned in the hearth, giving off a soft, dancing light that acted as the major source of brightness and warmth in the room. Helpers moved, setting up torches and bringing hot tea to their master and his visitor. Sparrow kept looking at the weapon, his head full of questions but empty of answers. He knew one thing for sure: this weapon came from a big city outside the kingdom, a place where flying entities lived and people wore huge armor and fancy hats, all according to what his messenger said.

Tony took a sip of his tea, enjoying its deep flavor and smell. A touch of honey and saffron mixed together, making an exquisite blend of tastes. He enjoyed his cup quite well, but another issue was evident.

Staring at Sparrow, he finally spoke, “If I’m not mistaken, this is a weapon that can kill the swordsman. But what is it called, if I may ask?”

“It’s called a gun, Tony,” Sparrow replied, still feeling the edges of the weapon and the trigger.

“A gun, you say? But are you certain it can kill the weeping swordsman?”

Sparrow continued to romance the weapon, eyeing Tony as he adjusted his monocle with his free hand. “A sword made to slay a dragon should be stained with the blood of the beast. Otherwise, it is nothing but a hopeless dream.”

“So, this gun weapon has defeated a swordsman, maybe even countless?” Tony asked.

“It has taken the lives of both the weak and the strong in mere seconds,” Sparrow said, firing the gun at one of his men who stood guard in the room. The man fell to the floor, clutching his bleeding abdomen before succumbing to death. The other guards remained silent, their faces devoid of emotion, but their hearts filled with fear of being the next victims.

“A marvelous weapon indeed,” Tony said, applauding quietly. This weapon was rare in these parts, where swords, bows, and shields were the norm. The association had been forging deals with foreign nations, laying the groundwork for future business and friendship, for smooth sailing after their leader had acquired the throne. This weapon, along with the stone, would bring them closer to their goals. What was once just a mere dream would soon become a reality, and it all starts tomorrow.

*

Tori sprinted through the dampened streets, her heart racing like that of an abandoned lover. Tori halted in her pursuit, tilting her head as she spun her scythe, watching it shrink into a small baton. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the once savory aroma of well-cooked meat now reeked of seared flesh. She had lost the men who captured Pasta. Standing silently, she recalled the previous battle.

Emilia trailed behind Tori, sneezing and hastily searching her bag for a napkin. “

“Tori, what’s wrong?” Emilia asked, her voice calm and low.

Tori attempted to compose herself, her hands trembling and her stifled sobs audible. Emilia had been by her side of it all, and though their time together was short, she could sense Tori’s distress. Embracing her, Emilia gently stroked her hair. “It’s okay, you did your best,” she whispered into her ear.

“Why can’t I do anything right?” Tori choked out, tears streaming down her face. “I couldn’t even land a decent blow on him. Even if I had been with the others when he attacked, I still wouldn’t have made a difference. The Swordsman will take care of that imbecile. He won’t stand a chance.” Emilia continued to comfort Tori, her hand soothingly caressing her hair, leading her away from the storm and into a nearby inn.

As they entered, a bustling restaurant filled with adventurers greeted them. A bard dressed in purple played his flute passionately in the center, creating a tranquil and calming atmosphere. A server hastily brought towels for the two women. “Are you both alright? The storm is quite intense, right, right” the server asked.

“Yes, it is. Thank you for the towels.” Tori remained silent, her face slightly red.

“Just dry yourselves off, and we can arrange a room for both of you, yes, yes.”

Emilia flashed a smile at Tori while taking her arm, and leading her to the bathroom to dry herself. Getting a room turned out to be easy—they didn’t have to deal with boring forms, just showed their adventurer’s ID and paid the fee. They walked into their unused space, seeing a simple room with one bed and a single window. Someone had made the bed, with blankets folded on the side. The floor and walls looked clean, without marks or dirt—a pleasant surprise for such a cheap room.

Emilia put her hands on her hips, feeling proud. Despite their financial struggles, they’d found an okay place to stay. Her adventure had gone pretty well, except for a few hiccups—not enough food in the woods, Mr. Swordsman seeing her without clothes, watching a naked Pasta run after a girl, and the weeping swordsman. But right now, she felt happy. She looked at Tori, wanting to share her joy with her close friend, and saw Tori’s cheeks were a bit red.

“Hey, Tori,” Emilia said, “Is the room bad? We can get a better one, but I don’t have enough money though. However, the room is still good and there are a lot of special features here too like huh… the lighting and…. the bed. I think”

She turned from side to side, taking in the sight of the single bed, then turned back to Tori and the bed. Her face turned bright red after she realized the current situation. Tori clapped her cheeks, bringing herself back to reality.

“Let’s not think about it too much. It’s still early in the afternoon,” Tori reassured her.

Emilia remained red, knowing there were only a couple of hours left before bedtime. What would happen then? She hadn’t even met her elf prince or an attractive S-class hottie who would take her on exciting adventures through different realms. How is she ever going to face them? Tori looked at Emilia and burst into laughter. She crossed her arms over Emilia’s shoulders.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry,” Tori whispered, “I don’t bite.”

“I...,” Emilia stuttered before her brain finally let go and she fell unconscious, the only way to save herself from embarrassment. Tori continued to laugh as if her tummy was about to burst.

“Wakey, wakey, Emi, there’s no time to sleep. We still need to find Pasta,” Tori urged.

Emilia peeked and opened her eyes. She saw Tori sitting next to her, wearing an ominous smile that sent shivers down her spine. Emilia noticed the baton strapped to Tori’s waist, recalling how she had seen the scythe transform into a baton in a flash.

“What sort of weapon is that?” Emilia asked, pointing at the baton.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing special, really. Without my headphones, it’s just an ordinary piece of junk”

“I haven’t seen anything like it around here,” she said.

“Remember, I’m not from around here,” Tori said as she playfully pushed back Emilia’s head with a finger.

“Oh, sometimes I forget that. I remember you mentioning it during the fight. What are these headphones you speak of?”

Tori pondered for a moment, then placed a finger on her chin. “I’ll tell you some other time, I promise”

“What’s with everyone and their secrets first, Mr. Swordsman, now you,” Emilia pouted.

“I see you ladies are alright,” Mr. Swordsman said, holding a drenched Hudson in his hand as he perched himself on the open window.

“You girls are way too fast,” Hudson wheezed, his voice resembling that of a dying animal. Emilia and Tori let out screams, realizing that the window had been opened. They were also oblivious to the cold air and drizzle seeping through all along.

Mr. Swordsman laughed while Hudson pondered his life choices and how he ended up in this predicament. Emilia ceased her screams and observed Mr. Swordsman as he chuckled. There was something different about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“There’s this thing called using the front door,” Tori said.

“We’re both criminals and adventurers and mercenaries are swarming downstairs. I’d prefer to avoid a scene, especially with this half-dead child in tow.”

Mr. Swordsman tossed Hudson into the room and locked the window to prevent more water from entering. Finally regrouped, they discussed the unexpected flaws in their plan. Pasta had been captured, and the mercenaries were aware of Emilia and Tory’s association with them. Mr. Swordsman smiled, feeling a sense of relief upon discovering that the girls hadn’t pursued Pasta any further and that Emilia seemed to be coping well despite her brother’s capture, which piqued his curiosity.

“Emilia, are you alright? Considering Pasta’s capture and all”

Emilia offered a soft smile, placing her hand on her bag. “He’ll be fine. After all, he’s Pasta after all.”

Mr. Swordsman wasn’t concerned about that, but rather something else. He didn’t want Pasta to cause any more major disturbances. That was his only wish at the moment.

“Pasta was taken by Lord Tony’s mercenaries, so it’s likely he’s being held captive in the manor,” Hudson said. “Right now, wouldn’t our best option be to attack the manor, steal the stone, and rescue Pasta all at once?”

Tori whistled as she strolled around the room, her hands clasped behind her back. “So, we’re after a stone. That’s quite intriguing,” she said. “I wonder what we need a mere stone for.”

Emilia and Hudson quickly turned to Mr. Swordsman. He cocked his head and sighed. She did help fight the swordsman and also protected Emilia in his stead. He nodded. Emilia and Hudson’s faces lit up like children getting candy. They filled Tori in on everything, from the noble’s visit to the town’s destruction.

“Wow, that’s so cool,” Tori said, “And you thought I was in cahoots with this Tony guy”

“My sincerest apologies,” Mr. Swordsman said.

Ok, that’s it, Emilia thought. Something was wrong with Mr. Swordsman. What happened in the fight and why was he acting so strange after it? Was he possessed by some kind of spirit after the fight?

“I’m sorry too, for suspecting you as the weeping swordsman,” Tori said.

“Well, you don’t need to apologize for that since I am the weeping swordsman”

Tory sighed, “No, I was in the wrong, even when you’ve been protecting Emilia and the others all this time and you even agreed to help Hudson. You are nothing like that devil’s incarnate, so…”

Emilia and Hudson stood, eyeing Mr. Swordsman, their mouth agape, making it a free passage for passerby insects.

“Did you just say you’re the weeping swordsman?” Tory asked, her eyes widening.

“Yes, I am”