The Weeping Swordsman

They had one task—just a single task to gain permission to leave the town. What was supposed to be an easy and quick task turned into a mission to save a town from a volcano, fighting mercenaries, fighting giant birds, and watching after grandpappy in his drunken state. Unfortunately, they lost the flowers in the process and now had to buy more from a travelling merchant since the sun blossoms field had been destroyed in the volcano aftermath. Since the sun blossoms field was near Gildenspire, the town where they became adventurers, they needed to submit their report there. It was their first-ever task, and they cheated. According to the guild, if they are caught, they’d be stripped of their adventurer’s license. Emilia strolled behind Pasta and Mr Swordsman. Her eyes to the floor. If she couldn’t even complete a novice task, how could she ever be an adventurer? Her dream was slipping away.

The town came into view. Despite the high chances of them losing their licenses, both Pasta and Mr. Swordsman were annoyed by the fact that they had to come back.

“Hey guys, are we going to be alright?” Emilia asked.

“I doubt it,” Mr Swordsman said.

“Nope, we’re toast,” Pasta yawned.

Emilia started to cry. She realized that it was really going to happen. She looked at both of them. Even though it was only for a short time, she had fun, and no one can take those memories away from her. Emilia wiped her tears and put on a brave face. What was she even worried about? There was no way the guild could tell that the flowers were bought.

*

“So let me get this straight: Not only did you take weeks to get a simple flower, but you also had the nerve to buy one. Do you think the guild is that foolish not to notice?” Amy, the task assigner, asked.

Mr. Swordsman and Pasta remained silent. Emilia suddenly screamed, quickly covering her mouth with both hands. This is not okay in the slightest, she thought. Memories? She needed more. Adventures? She wanted to go on so many more. And her elf prince? She hadn’t even met him yet.

Pasta slammed his fist on the table. “Hey! I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just strip us of our licenses. I have a dragon to fight and some more mercenaries to beat up,” he growled, leaning in closer, his intense glare terrifying Amy and catching the attention of the other adventurers nearby. “Listen to me, I’m the mighty Pasta, and you’re gonna let Emilia and Mr. Swordsman here remain adventurers. Got that?”

The entire guild fell silent as Amy’s eyes sparkled with admiration. She took Emilia’s hand. “You’re Lady Emilia?”

“Eek! Is there a problem?”

Amy then turned to Mr. Swordsman, her expression one of pure awe. Her mouth hung open, and it almost seemed as if steam was rising from her head. “T-Th… The Weeping Swordsman…”

In an instant, the guild was thrown into chaos. Adventurers swarmed around them, shouting excitedly.

“Is it true?”

“You stopped an eruption?”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“Heavenly Swordsman!!”

“Marry me, Swordsman!”

Mr. Swordsman stood there, frozen in awkward silence. He had expected people to hate him for being the Weeping Swordsman, so this sudden outpouring of admiration was a complete surprise.

“Lady Emilia, it was so cool how you solved the puzzle,” an adventurer exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Amazing, I tell you. I was there, after all! Hahaha!” another adventurer declared, standing on the table with a grin.

Emilia recognised him as the one who had refused to help Little Bobby. Apparently, he and his crew had gotten lost in the tunnels but eventually found their way after following the lit torches she had placed. As he continued to boast about his presence during the battle, he suddenly lost his balance and toppled off the table, landing face-first on the floor.

The room quieted as another adventurer turned to Pasta, curiosity in his voice. “So, who are you?”

Pasta, ever ready, struck a dramatic pose, his arms to his waist, and declared, “I’m the mighty Pasta!”

“Oh,” the adventurer replied.

“He’s part of their crew,” someone murmured from the back.

“Must be their bag carrier or something,” another voice added, eliciting a few chuckles.

Pasta’s grip tightened on his sword, a flash of anger in his eyes. He turned to Emilia, who gave him a small, reassuring nod, signalling him to let it go. Reluctantly, he took a deep breath and did just that. His inner self destroyed every mental image he had in his mind in extreme rage, but his face remained calm.

“Ahem,” Amy cleared her throat, calling for silence. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed as she fidgeted with the paper and pen in her hands. “You see, a commission was requested by the guild master to save Pyrovile, but with the poor manpower we had, we couldn’t even get past the first camp of mercenaries surrounding the town. When news reached us that a band of adventurers had contained the issue, we were all in awe,” she admitted, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So, as per the terms of completing a high-rank achievement, the Weeping Swordsman has been promoted to S-Rank. Lady Emilia, for saving hundreds of civilians and guiding them to safety, will be issued a B-Rank for her achievements. And as for the… bag carrier, for merely surviving such turmoil, he’ll be awarded a D-Rank. The reward for completing the commission is a thousand gold coins.”

Emilia dropped her bag. Receiving such acknowledgement meant a lot to her. Pasta was still burning with anger. She called him a bag carrier, and she said it with no fear whatsoever. Mr Swordsman nodded. He had a great idea for the money if it all worked out. He might be able to become crazy rich in just a single go.

Amy approached Emilia and discreetly requested an autograph from her.

“What are you all lazy men doing? A toast to Emilia and the Weeping Swordsman,” one said, raising his jug, and the others complied. The party went on for hours, exhausting the band of heroes and making them turn in for the night early.

*

“Here’s the deal,” Emilia yawned, dropping a bag of coins onto the table. “We’ll split the money evenly.”

They were gathered at an inn provided by the adventurers’ guild, so they didn’t have to pay for lodging. Emilia had her own separate room, while Mr Swordsman had to share a room with Pasta. Emilia was currently in their room.

“I object, Emilia,” Mr. Swordsman interjected, placing his hands on the table. “We have someone here who didn’t contribute much. Shouldn’t we divide the money based on our individual contributions?”

Pasta locked eyes with Mr. Swordsman. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you and I aren’t on equal footing, boy,” Mr. Swordsman clarified.

“What do you plan to use the money for, anyway? Buy new clothes?”

“Would you two stop this? Pasta did his part in protecting the townsfolk before they entered the tunnels. I didn’t do much myself, so if he’s not getting an equal share, neither am I.”

“Deal. I’ll have more then,” Mr. Swordsman said, grabbing the bag, but was stopped by Pasta’s grip over his arm. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?”

Pasta ignored Mr. Swordsman’s glare. “Emilia, don’t look down on yourself. Without you, we wouldn’t have solved the puzzle, and the whole town would have been gone if Mr. Swordsman here had messed it up.”

Emilia faced the other away, attempting to hide the slight redness of her cheeks.

Mr. Swordsman held the bag tighter. “But I didn’t.”

“But you could,” Pasta retorted.

Emilia grabbed the bag from both of them. “I’ll be sharing it evenly now and no more fighting between you two. We’ll be heading to the fourth realm from here, so we need materials. I’ve prepared a list for each of us. After getting them, you can use your share however you want.”

Pasta turned to Emilia. “I don’t get it. We’ll use our share to get goods?”

“And why are we obliged to do so?” Mr Swordsman asked.

“For the good of the team, of course. You can call it division of labour if you want,” Emilia said with a straight face. “Now let’s go to bed. We’ll be leaving the town tomorrow morning, so no dilly-dallying.”

*

The clothing store had bright colourful decorations, with banners featuring elegant ladies and an assortment of exquisite garments, with flowers arranged neatly along the sides. Gildenspire was a popular town with all of its buildings, but this one took the cake. Although the fresh smell of fabric and the sounds of giggling and gossiping ladies bothered Emilia a bit, it didn’t matter to her. She held her bag tightly, satisfied that her plan was going according to plan. Enlisting the boys to handle most of the purchases had been a stroke of genius. Knowing them, they’d likely spend their share on trivial items to satisfy their own whims.

She picked up a pink dress, examining it closely. It was too tight and clearly impractical for the cold terrains of the Fourth Realm. She had hoped to find warm clothing here, but everything was either too stylish or exposed far too much skin.

“Hey, beautiful,” a stylist said, touching Emilia’s shoulders from behind. She was taller than Emilia, with black bangs and a measuring tape draped over her shoulder. She wore an embroidered black tunic with a jewelled belt and leather boots.

“Good morning,” Emilia whispered.

“So adorable!” the stylist squealed. “What’s a cutie like you doing in a place like this?”

“Well… I came to find some warm clothes.”

“My dear,” she said, gently taking the pink dress from Emilia. “This certainly won’t do for a darling like you.”

She guided Emilia to another section of the store and presented a stunning green suit.

“This will look fabulous on you. Right, ladies?” she called out, and a group of girls appeared from seemingly nowhere, nodding in agreement.

“No, ma’am, that looks too expensive. I was hoping for some coats and jackets,” Emilia replied.

“Isn’t she the famous adventurer, Lady Emilia?”

The girls all gasped and playfully poked at her. The stylist folded her arms and smiled to herself. “I knew you were special. Come on, at least give it a try. Just this suit, I promise.”

“But just the suit, okay?”

“Of course!”

Emilia wore it, her block locks flowing out, giving her the style of an academic scholar from the second realm. The store girls applauded. Emilia saw the dress was a nice fit to her and it was actually warm but unfortunately too flashy to wear in the snow.

“Can I get those jackets now?” Emilia asked.

The girls handed her a bundle of other clothes.

“No. I really need to get some jackets”

“The last ones we promised,” they all said in unison.

Emilia still refused to accept the clothes, but she was pestered too much to keep refusing. She had nothing more to say as she had spoken too much and lost all her steam, especially since her opponents were all older ladies. She tried on everything from a designer’s leather jacket made from the Jirai serpent to luxurious gowns worn by nobility, or so the stylist claimed. After trying on the fifteenth outfit, she got used to it. The joy of trying out a lot of cute clothes overwhelmed her, and nothing else mattered at the moment. They brought more and more. Emilia slayed in each outfit, enjoying every single one.

“Alright, girls, we’re all done for the day,” the stylist said, clapping and sending the others back to work.

Emilia had changed back into her clothes. The stylist picked up a pen and paper and began scribbling something.

“That was fun, ma’am,” Emilia said.

“Okay”

“Well, can I have those coats now?”

“Just pick what you want”

Emilia hurried to a rack she had seen earlier during the fashion show. It was a dark fur coat and it was cheap too, just twenty silver coins, and she was good to go. The boys wouldn’t even think of getting them, so she’d have to get them some later on.

“Adventurer, may I have a word about the bill?” the stylist called.

Emilia grabbed the fur coat and approached her. “I’ll take this. Do you have change?”

The girls came back with a bag of clothes. “We’ve brought them, madam.”

“Good job, ladies. You can leave,” she said, turning to Emilia. “That’ll be three hundred gold coins.”

Emilia chuckled nervously. “But it says here twenty silver coins.”

“But for the others, that’ll be three hundred gold coins.”

“But I didn’t buy them.”

The stylist and the salesgirls exchanged monstrous grins. “You see, sweetie, didn’t you read the rule board at the entrance? Anything that has been worn must be purchased.”

“But, but, but-“ Emilia stammered, about to burst into tears.

“But what, dearie? You are an adventurer, after all. A popular one at that. Of course, a measly sum of three hundred gold coins would do no harm. Since I’m so generous, how about we make it two hundred and eighty gold coins?”

“But it’s too much.”

They all giggled at Emilia. The other girls who shopped there felt sorry for her, but no one came to her rescue. At the end of it all, Emilia painfully paid for the bill and left the shop.

*

“Madame, you are as amazing as ever,” one of the salesgirls complimented.

The stylist smiled proudly. “It’s not easy running a successful business these days.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Yes, who would have thought you’d also get her to buy the Empress fur coat?”

The stylist's eyes went wide with shock.

The sales girls chuckled. “The fur coat costs twenty pieces of sapphires, which is equivalent to twenty thousand pieces of gold coins. That adventurer is surely a fool.”

“A rich fool,” another commented, meeting the Madame’s dead eyes. “Anything wrong, ma’am?”

The Madame didn’t respond, a drop of tear escaping her eyes.

*

“Let’s see,” Pasta murmured, adjusting the glasses he had picked up on the way to the restaurant. He studied the menu, taking in the serene atmosphere of the beautiful restaurant. Everything was white—white walls, white paintings, white tables, white chairs, even the spoons, the girls, the animals, the musicians, and perhaps the food too.

Bloodborne sure loves his town, Pasta thought, admiring the investment the guild master must have made to create such a place. But now was not the time for idle musings about the politics of a whitewashed restaurant. No, Pasta had important matters to attend to.

He flipped through the menu and turned to the waiter, who had been standing by for his reply. “I’ll have this. Make it quick and thanks, man,” Pasta said, removing his glasses.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter bowed and left.

Pasta had never been treated this way before, and oh dear, did he love the feeling He was in charge of the food and ingredients, and what better way to get them than to go to the best restaurant to get the best meals. Quality beats quantity, after all.

“Here’s your meal, sir,” the waiter said, presenting the dish.

Pasta’s heart raced as he gazed at the feast before him—a whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth, a sight he had only heard about in stories. Alongside was an assortment of fried, roasted, and boiled fish, and a selection of pastries ranging from simple breads to delicious cakes. He felt like he was in heaven, surrounded by such exquisite meals. A little bite wouldn’t hurt, right?

Pasta eagerly picked up his fork and swallowed some saliva in anticipation of the flavours he was about to experience. He chose a piece of well-tendered meat mixed with cherry sauce and wine, along with a fried tilapia coated in honey.

As he slowly savoured the morsel, the taste transported him beyond the world to one of extreme flavour. The combination of meat and fish in a single bite was more than exquisite; it was godly.

Pasta hurriedly ate each meal, annoying the other customers. Suddenly, he hit his head on the table.

“Emilia trusted me to get food. Last time we survived thanks to Andy. I should not let her go hungry again!” he whispered.

Pasta called the waiter and ordered the remaining food properly packaged in a suitable bag. His needs were swiftly met.

“Now, sir, here’s your payment. Keep the change,” Pasta said, throwing the whole bag of coins to the waiter. The service at the restaurant exceeded his expectations, so they deserved the extra. Pasta grabbed the huge bag of food and headed for the door.

“Excuse me, mister, but your money is not enough,” the waiter said.

Pasta furrowed his brow. “Not enough? I gave you way extra. How is it not enough?”

The waiter sighed. “Sir, the prices were on the menu. You were the one ignorant enough not to notice them”

“Now, sir, pay for your meal,” the waiter’s voice turned cold as the restaurant guards stared.

*

Two contestants stood in the ring, casting their deadly gaze on each other. They were surrounded by barbed wires on the hard rocky floor. They exchanged punches and kicks as the crowd of men roared in response, screaming to support their chosen fighter.

The dark underground fighting ring is a place commonly found in most towns, where people come either to participate in the competition to kill time or to make an overnight success.

Mr. Swordsman waited for his fighter to enter the ring. This opportunity was once in a lifetime. Who knows when he’ll have this much money with him again?

He didn’t care that he used his share here instead of buying camping supplies. If he succeeded, he’d have more than enough for camping supplies and plenty left over for himself.

The next stage was set, and due to Mr. Swordsman’s keen observation skills, he had carefully selected his man: a six-foot-tall, muscle-bound, bald adventurer. In this fight, weapons were banned, so it was all fists and legs. His man, Paul, had powerful muscles and well-toned legs, making him both fast and versatile. He also maintained composure, allowing him to think rationally and deliberate a plan for victory. On the other hand, Danny, while almost the same height and also muscular, was not as impressive. He appeared overweight, and his bad posture indicated he wasn’t accustomed to this kind of fighting. Mr Swordsman placed all his money on Paul, with the expectation of a high deposit and high reward.

As Paul and Danny entered the stage, the crowd roared in excitement. Both adventurers were B-rank. Danny had more votes due to his huge body.

The bell rang, signalling the start of the battle. Paul lunged at Danny, landing a powerful punch to his face. Danny crashed into the barbed wire and got back on his feet, throwing a slow punch at him. Paul deftly dodged each of Danny’s strikes, then delivered a punishing uppercut to his jaw, followed by a relentless flurry of blows. Paul’s once calm look grew into a wide grin as he pummeled Danny’s face.

Suddenly, Danny seized Paul’s hands, giving him a headbutt. Danny then clenched his fist and drove his arm into Paul’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. As Paul lay unconscious, Danny wiped the blood from his face and raised his arm. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Danny screamed out, flexing his muscles.

Mr Swordsman sighed and jumped into the ring.

The referee, wearing a faded uniform, rushed forward as Mr Swordsman stepped into the ring. “Hey, mister, it’s against the rules to step in here. You need to sign up at the counter if you want to fight,” he said.

Mr Swordsman walked past him. “The match isn’t over yet,” he muttered, picking up Paul. “Hey wake up and fight you pathetic excuse of a man. One punch and you’re down?”

“Hey leave the ring!” the referee yelled, grabbing Mr Swordsman’s shoulders but was met with an intense energy knocking him out.

“Don’t touch me,” Mr Swordsman warned and tossed Paul’s body away since he refused to wake up.

Mr Swordsman adjusted his hat. The gods, that’s if they really existed, have looked down on him. Not only had he lost all his money, but now he had to deal with another pressing matter.

The adventurers all stared at him in silence.

*

Emilia stumbled through the streets, clutching a bag of worthless clothes. She had managed to buy coats for Mr Swordsman and Pasta, but now she was left with nothing, absolutely nothing. As she made her way towards their inn, she could hear some distant noises.

She squinted her eyes to see what was going on in the distance. A boy running. A boy running while carrying a huge bag. Pasta running while carrying a huge bag and a bunch of huge men chasing after him.

Pasta ran past her, grabbing her arm. “Emilia let’s scram from here”

“What’s wrong, Pasta?”

“Let’s just leave!” Pasta yelled.

“Pay for your meals. Boy!” one of the guards yelled.

Emilia turned to him, giving him the look. “What are they talking about?”

“Look, I intended to pay it. It just happened. I promise.”

“Why can’t you be responsible for once?” she said.

“I’m sorry, okay? For now, just run.”

They felt a gust of wind suddenly, followed by an explosion. Mr Swordsman was running towards them, and adventurers behind him were shooting arrows and yelling.

Emilia and Pasta screamed in unison. Mr Swordsman ran and grabbed both of them. Running towards the restaurant guards.

“NO, NO. THE OTHER WAY!” Pasta and Emilia yelled.

“Alright!” Mr Swordsman turned back to meet the adventurers. Emilia and Pasta screamed again.

Mr Swordsman leaped onto the roof, but their pursuers did not give up. They chased them on the ground and kept their eyes locked on them.

“What did you do now?” Emilia asked, trying to maintain her composure.

“Nothing,” Mr Swordsman said, his expression blank.

“They can’t be chasing you for nothing,” Emilia shook her head. “So I’m the only one not in trouble. You both really need to be more mature”

“You!!”

A spear flew over them. Turning around, she saw the stylist and the girls all wearing bandanas and jumping on the roofs.

“Give me the money for the coat!!”

Emilia screamed and calmed herself. “Wait a minute. I’ve given you your money”

“Arrgh!!” The stylist picked another spear from the girls and threw it at Mr Swordsman, who dodged them.

There were no more roofs in sight, and the town’s gate was in sight. Mr. Swordsman jumped off and landed on the floor, as did the ladies. A crowd of angry restaurant guards and adventurers appeared, all yelling and throwing weapons.

“Let me at them!” Pasta declared, trying to escape Mr. Swordsman’s hold.

“I’m a criminal now... and I don’t even know why,” Emilia mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to hold them back.

“Let’s get out of here!” Mr. Swordsman yelled. The gate was mere steps away, but the mob wasn’t letting up, hurling bombs that exploded just behind them. Mr Swordsman jumped out of the gates, with an explosion behind him. They ran out of town, never to return again.