The Weeping Swordsman

“Backpack, check. Goggles, double-check. Hat, jacket, boots... and this weird little duck thing? Check!” Jiji said to herself.

She paused to admire her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her golden braids. In the cold northern lands, her bright hair stood out even more, but being a kid didn’t make her feel any smaller. “You just have to show them who’s boss, and everything falls into place,” she reassured herself.

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I forgot the fireworks!” She dove for her bed, landing with a thud on the floor. Sliding her arm underneath, she rummaged around. “Come on, come on... Bingo!” She pulled out five sticks of extra-powerful fireworks. “Let’s see those dumb hunters try me now”

Next, she grabbed some bandages from atop her bed, wrapping them around her arms and waist like makeshift body armour. She threw on her coat and swept her golden braids from underneath it.

“Now I’m ready,” she said, bursting out of her room into the bustling hallway.

“Good morning, Lady Jiji,” a passing maid greeted her with a bow.

“Good morning!” Jiji replied, dashing through the corridors.

Several servants greeted her with respectful nods as she whizzed past, each getting a hurried “Good morning” in return. She wasn’t royalty, but moments like these made her feel like she was. And later, she’d be back in the kitchen, peeling potatoes with the staff.

“Now where’s Mom and Dad?”

There were men ahead of her, carrying a large box. She slid under it, maintaining her momentum. Time was running out. Her watch warned her. She reached the stairs, jumped across, and landed on the futon.

Jiji slowed down, taking a breather before pushing open the door to the dining room. The smell of pancakes filled the air, but she couldn’t let herself be distracted. Today was too important. Her family wasn’t wealthy, but they were doing just fine. A large wooden house made from timber? That was something to be proud of.

The dining room had a long wooden table, laid out with a modest yet colourful spread. There were fresh fruits, and of course, the foreign delicacy that was pancakes, courtesy of her mother Henna, a scholar from the second realm. She often spoiled them with fancy meals from across the realms. Her parents were old, but they worked themselves to the bone every day. Having a chance to help them made her feel so ecstatic, but still, she had to remain calm.

“Jiji, you seem excited today,” her father, John, said with a warm smile.

She lifted her chin and took a seat, trying to seem nonchalant. “Of course I am. It’s my turn, after all.”

Henna chuckled softly. “Our little girl is so serious about everything.”

“When isn’t she serious?” John asked.

Jiji glanced down at the table, her eyes wandering over the arrangement of silverware—three different forks and an array of spoons and knives. She didn’t see the point in all the options, especially when they all served the same purpose: to eat. Yet, she understood the significance of it. People respected those who respected themselves and the table they dined at. Even if she found the whole thing a bit unnecessary, she couldn’t deny how much she liked the variety and the food, of course. Especially the food.

She picked up a napkin, giggling to herself.

“What’s wrong dearie? “Hanna said, concerned.

Jiji swung the napkin around like she was surrendering, “And I was this close”

Her parents stared at her, perplexed.

Jiji placed her napkin on her lap, picked up her knife and fork, and began eating quickly, savouring each bite while trying not to look too rushed. Her parents exchanged knowing smiles as they watched her. She always carried herself with that air of smugness, but sometimes she let her guard down, showing glimpses of the carefree child she still was.

A soft belch escaped her lips as she wiped away crumbs from her face. “Father, the scroll,” she said, her tone suddenly more composed.

John nodded and handed her a neatly rolled scroll. “Here it is. You’ll find all the details about the ceremony.”

Jiji unrolled it, her eyes scanning the parchment. “Location of the ceremony, list of special guests, and the sponsors... but something’s missing?”

John sighed, knowing where the conversation was going. “I know you’ve put a lot of effort into this, but do you think it’s necessary?”

She closed the scroll. “Father, this isn’t my first time hosting or being at a fireworks show. It’s not just about being spectacular—it needs to be unique.” Her eyes sparkled. “Everyone loves fireworks; they even try making their own. But night after night, it’s the same thing. Year after year, the excitement fades. We need something new.”

Henna’s smile softened as she watched her daughter. Yeah, that’s Jiji, she thought.

“Ours have been the best for generations, my dear. We don’t need to compete with the others”

“I’m not competing with them, Father,” Jiji said. “I don’t have time for that. But we need to understand that sooner or later, a new fireworks industry will emerge with an entirely different style. They might even be out there right now. We need to innovate, and I have a brilliant idea.”

John mumbled, “The ores.”

“Exactly, the ores. Dungeons are rare nowadays, ever since most of them were cleared by past adventurers. But the Demir of Grandeur is still intact. There, we can find fistal ore. Using it would introduce a completely new way of making fireworks—more power, more beauty. Everything, enhanced.”

“But—” John began, only for Jiji to leap onto the table, crawling toward him.

“And if I can get just a small sample and figure out how it affects the fireworks in detail, we may not even need the ore anymore. This discovery could go into our family archives, and we would stay on top for a very, very, very long time!”

Henna giggled softly. Jiji was back to her energetic self.

With a sigh, John handed her another scroll, this one containing the details of the dungeon. He still wasn’t sure how to argue with her. She took after her mother way too much. “So, how many adventurers are you planning on taking?”

Jiji paused for a moment, thinking. “Twelve should do.”

“Twelve? The dungeon shouldn’t be that dangerous. Why so many?”

“The dungeon has been around for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. For some reason, no one is allowed to fully clear it. I’ve heard that the final boss is a dragon on the fourth level, where the fistal ore is located. But the ore can also be found around the third level. And since there are three entrances, I’ll assign four adventurers to each. That way, we can gather as much ore as possible.”

A mischievous smile played on her lips. The fistal ore was considered worthless, and no one truly understood its value. During her research, she had found mention of it in an old encyclopedia. The ore was said to enhance flame-based abilities and much more. It was a gamble, sure, but if her theory worked out, she would cement her place in the chronicles of the greatest firework makers in history.

Her parents didn’t need to know the full extent of her plan. A twelve-year-old planning on taking on a dungeon. She knew it was dangerous, but as long as she’s calm, nothing can go wrong, right?

“Good luck, Jiji,” Hanna said, still smiling.

Jiji held her backpack tighter, with a nervous smile. Her mother is the only one able to read through her. She was a scholar, after all. Jiji waved goodbye and ran out of the house in haste. It was time to hire some adventurers.

*

Little Emilia danced with her father, her eyes on the floor. So she wouldn’t step on his feet.

“Eyes up here, sweetie,” he said.

The morning rays of sunlight escaped into the empty hall. They danced to the piano. She was horrible, that was obvious. Missing the rhythm, couldn’t hold a smile and for some reason, she always thought her father’s feet was the floor.

He didn’t mind; she was a child, after all.

Running footsteps echoed in the halls and a woman screaming.

Emilia’s eyes went to the open doors as Pasta ran by. He shot her a look, sticking out his tongue, his hands covered in frosting, clothes all rumbled and stained.

He smirked and ran past the door.

“Pasta, get back here at this moment. You little rascal,” her aunt said, running past her whole body covered in cake.

Emilia giggled, stepping on her father’s foot again.

“You always get distracted, keep your eyes up,” he said.

“Sorry, it was just Pasta,” she said, still smiling. “He’s hilarious”

Her father narrowed his eyes, glaring at the door. “Yes, he’s hilarious”

Emilia’s smile faded as she noticed something odd. Dark fumes began creeping from the hall’s edges.

“Father?” she asked, glancing up at him nervously. “What is that?”

He didn’t answer, still fixated on the doorway. The shadows stretched closer, filling the space. She trembled and tried to flee, but her father’s grip tightened around her hand, holding her still.

Her scream echoed through the darkness as she fell into a shallow pool of water. The world around her was a void.

“You little bastard!” a voice yelled, followed by the sharp crack of a whip and a loud cry.

“Brother?” she called out, recognising the voice. She ran toward the sound. But before she could get far, someone grabbed her.

It was her father, and her mother stood beside him.

“Come, Emilia. What are you doing here?”

She looked at where the cries came from and back to her parents. “I heard a voice from over there”

“My little Emilia,” her father said, his voice subtle and sweet. “You really shouldn’t be here. Let’s go have our breakfast”

“Ok, Father,” she held her parents’ hand and left the darkness, the cries still echoing in the back.

Suddenly, Emilia’s eyes snapped open. She found herself back in the wagon, already forgetting the strange dream, she had. Mr Swordsman was already awake, sitting at the end, while Pasta sat in a strange position, fingers intertwined.

“You woke up at the perfect time,” Mr Swordsman said. “We’ve just arrived.”

Emilia shook Pasta. “We’re here, Pasta. The fourth realm capital.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Stop shaking me already”

She dashed to the front of the wagon, poking her head out for a better view. Unlike the seventh realm, there were no borders here. The capital was the entry point, bustling with life despite the freezing cold. The lord of the realm also stayed here, including some influential nobles.

Massive stone walls surrounded the city, towering far above those of Pyrovile. A grand gate loomed ahead, adorned with a red banner displaying the crest of the realm—a stylized freezing star. It symbolised the realm’s resilience and enduring strength, as noted by the adventurer’s guidebook.

“I can’t smell any meat,” Pasta whispered. “I already don’t like this place.”

“Would you please be quiet?” she snapped.

“Keep it down, you two. The queue is already testing my patience, don’t add to it!” Bhaa yelled.

Emilia hadn’t noticed it before; her eyes were fixed on the tall stone walls and well-armoured guards. She hadn’t realized they were in a long queue. The guards checked for licenses, illegal goods, and other items before permitting entry.

“So how long will it take?” Mr Swordsman asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I have a spell to make the guards search faster, now do I?” Bhaa muttered, crossing his arms. Suddenly, a huge explosion echoed in the distance, sending him tumbling from his seat while his horse trembled.

Emilia immediately drew her sword, alert and ready, while Pasta and Mr. Swordsman remained calm, unfazed by the chaos.

“STOP! STOP! STOOOP!” Jiji screamed, turning the lever of her makeshift contraption over and over again, but nothing worked. She couldn’t stop. She confirmed that the fireworks weren’t going to explode anytime soon—but that didn’t make her situation any less dire.

Jiji skied through the snow at an intense speed, fast enough to make her face feel like it was being pushed inside out. Still, she kept her composure. Her father always taught her that keeping a calm mind was essential in chaotic situations. If even one of the fireworks in her pack went off, she’d be toast. But this was the only way to reach the gate in time.

Holding on to the lit firework in her backpack, Jiji knew throwing the entire bag away wasn’t an option. The valuables in it cost more than a million gold coins. She gripped the stick, struggling to contain its power with her small hand. She shook it and finally managed to get a firm hold of it.

Suddenly, she was launched into the sky, exactly as she had anticipated. After all, she was light as a feather.

“Take this!” she screamed, hurling the firework high into the air. It exploded in a dazzling array of colours, drawing gasps from the crowd waiting in line at the gate.

As she gracefully landed and skied to the entrance, she zoomed past Mr Swordsman.

“Jiji, would you stop with the noise?” the guard at the gate sighed.

“A good morning will be nice, “she replied.

He sighed. “Good morning kiddo, I need to have a look in your bag”

“Please do,” she opened it up for him.

“Hey! We’ve been here all day. Why are you attending to the brat?” a traveller said.

“Yeah, get her out of there!” Bhaa joined, throwing his fist into the air for emphasis.

The guard opened his mouth to respond, but Jiji cut him off, stepping forward. “I’m not a fan of noise—unless it’s my fireworks, of course. I’m not the first one here, so what? I didn’t ask him to attend to me first. He did it on his own. And you know why? Because he knows his duty.”

“Just listen to her! The brat’s got no respect!” someone else yelled.

“No, damn respect for her elders,” another voice grumbled from the crowd.

“Tell her to her damn face!” Bhaa yelled.

Pasta cracked one eye open. He was still on the floor. “That girl…”

“Yes, Pasta,” Mr. Swordsman responded quietly. “She’s different.”

“Different how?” Emilia asked, confused by their sudden interest.

“She has a gift,” Pasta remarked, arms still crossed.

“Wait, what?”

Mr. Swordsman’s eyes narrowed, studying Jiji more closely. They called her Jiji. Somehow, she had survived that high fall without so much as a scratch and she’s still a kid, he thought. What kind of gift does she possess?

“How can you tell she has one?” Emilia asked.

Pasta stood up, resting his hand on his sword. “These days, I’ve been able to sense the intensity and quality of someone’s aura. Hers… it’s different. Yet, strangely, it’s similar to Mr. Swordsman’s.”

Mr. Swordsman adjusted his hat. “Different forms of energy surround the human body in several layers. Coating, for instance, uses one of these outer layers to strengthen the body. But gifters… don’t have this specific extra layer and our coating protects us from internal damage. We directly infuse the layer within us.

“And hers isn’t visible,” Pasta added.

Meanwhile, the riot intensified. The travellers were increasingly enraged by the young girl’s perceived audacity. Jiji, unbothered, sighed and made her way through the gate.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered under her breath, glancing back one last time at Mr Swordsman and the others. They were trying to mask their life energy, but it wasn’t so easy to hide it from her.

Adventurers, she thought. Not from here, but maybe the seventh father always said that the way they dressed was different.

*

It took hours, but they finally made it through the gates. Bhaa took his payment and disappeared since he had nothing to do with them.

The streets of the capital weren’t so busy. The tall buildings lined up in the streets. There was a first and second level where a huge tower where the great Lord resides. The nobles were also known to occupy the second level. Mechanisms helped to take the people up there after the payment of a small fee.

“Now off to the adventurer’s guild,” Emilia said, feeling excited. She flipped through the guidebook, searching for any juicy information about the fourth realm she could find, from the realms of culture, dishes, style, business endeavours and others.

They strolled through the streets, lanterns placed at the sides, lighting up a bit in the snow. The wind blew through.

“A storm is coming,” Mr Swordsman said.

Emilia dropped her book. “Storm?”

“It wouldn’t last long but we still need to find a place”

“Okay”

It was customary for adventurers to check in on the adventurer guild when entering a new realm. Their records were always kept, and Emilia was pumping for some fourth-realm commissions.

Pasta scanned through the streets, searching for a meat shack or any place to serve food.

Mr Swordsman noticed him. “Pasta”

“Yes”

“There’s a handy trick you can learn right now. It will suit you perfectly”

“A trick? Do tell”

“You can use a miniature burst to scan through an area. The smaller it is the farther it can cover. You can use it to find whatever you’re looking for,” he said, glaring at Pasta. “But this is also a very bad move as it tells the enemy exactly where you are”

“Got it.” Pasta closed his eyes, swirling his energy. He let out a bit releasing a burst. Immediately, a nearby woman fell.

He stared at Mr Swordsman, his face in shock. “Sorry”

“You should not be telling me that”

Emilia sighed, hurrying to the fallen woman. “Are you alright?”

The woman, rubbing her head, nodded. “Yes, just felt a little dizzy out of nowhere.”

As she walked away, Pasta glanced at Mr Swordsman. “Maybe I’ll practice that later...”

They continued on, arriving at the adventurer’s guild, where a large crowd of adventurers was gathered out front.

“What’s going on here?” Emilia asked, scanning the crowd.

A receptionist hurried toward them. “Ah, newcomers! A commission is being offered by a member of the Heart Family. You can join if you’re interested, but fair warning—she’s very picky”

From the crowd, a familiar voice was heard. “They’re here already!”

Mr Swordsman and the others instantly recognized it. Jiji leapt off a nearby desk, the sea of adventurers parting for her as she strode toward the group.

“You three,” Jiji said, pointing at Pasta, Emilia, and Mr Swordsman with a grin, “I need you for a commission.”