The Weeping Swordsman

Matthew strolled down the Pyrovile streets, holding a skewered piece of meat, while a few guards followed closely behind him. While he was in the middle of his breakfast, someone informed him about two bandits who had entered the town. He took a bite of the meat, finding it to be a bit too chewy, but still enjoyable, paying no mind to the stares he got from the town’s residents. Matthew did find the situation strange. bandits rarely attacked the town directly; he believed the bandits disguised themselves, carried out their activities, and then left without being noticed all possible if they paid a fine at least all according to what he was told by his comrades.

“Can you give me a description of both men?” Matthew asked, still chewing on the same piece of meat.

“A young man, average height and a muscular physique, fair complexion, and piercing black eyes, brandishing a sword with a slightly curved tip. The other was a towering swordsman, overshadowing his companion in height. I could only catch a glimpse of him as we fled for our lives, but the image of his straw hat stayed with me.”

“Straw hat?”

“Yes,” the guard said. “He also knocked out a few of our guards without laying a finger on them.”

Matthew increased the pace, throwing the remains of his meat, and swallowed down the impenetrable one he’d been battling with.

There would be no mercy for those who had wronged them. The straw-hatted man and his assistant would soon learn the consequences of their actions. Matthew’s grip on his sword tightened even more.

*

“Delicious!” exclaimed Pasta as he bit into the chewy meat on the skewer. He couldn’t wait for it to soften before swallowing. Pyrovile had some peculiar preferences, selling this type of meat in bustling work areas so people could constantly chew on it while they went about their day. That idea is of a genius.

“Why did you let him join us and also free food?” Little Bobby asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mary replied, placing her finger on her chin. “Maybe it’s because you were being rude and tarnishing our Lord’s reputation, or perhaps I just liked being accompanied by strangers in the market.”

Little Bobby turned away, refusing to speak any further since it may cause an argument, one he knew he couldn’t win.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but could you tell me where I can find more meat to eat?” Pasta asked, “Oh, that rhymes”

“We don’t have many restaurants in Pyrovile, but there’s a popular meat shack nearby. An amazing place it is if you know how to handle your beer.” Mary said, proudly.

“We’re busy with our shopping right now, so you should go on ahead,” Little Bobby said.

“Bobby Arkan Junior, is this how you treat visitors?” Mary scolded. “He clearly isn’t from around here, so of course he doesn’t know where the shack is located.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. I got carried away,” Little Bobby apologized.

Mary smiled at him and then turned to Pasta, giving a slight bow. “I apologize for his rudeness. We’ll guide you to the meat shack; it’s on our way.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Pasta said, wrapping his arms around Mary’s shoulders. He could feel the hair around his arm standing, and an ominous stare from behind. Little Bobby’s eyes glow red as he reaches for his sword. However, Pasta quickly removed his arm from Mary and laughed awkwardly behind them.

They continued on their way, stopped at a shop, and Mary carefully inspected the cabbages, searching for any black spots. She selected the good ones and tossed them into her basket. The shopping list wasn’t extensive, and she would be finished in a few minutes.

*

Mr Swordsman and Hudson stayed alone on the rooftops. The view of the town was rather underwhelming, with nothing much to see except for the half-naked fire dancers and other street entertainers. The once enticing smell of meat had now become a nuisance to him.

“Is it a good idea to leave the others behind?” Hudson asked.

“Staying with them will only put our plan in jeopardy,” Mr Swordsman said, his eyes surveying the town again.

“But if we stick together, we can easily take out Tony.”

Mr Swordsman explained, “It won’t matter if we can take out Tony if the others are discovered or captured early on. The last thing we need is to plan a rescue”

“You’re right. Sticking with them will only bring trouble. To the guards, Pasta and Mr. Swordsman are just bandits while I’m wanted and the others are regular people”

They made their way through the bustling market, where traders’ shouts for customers echoed from every corner.

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s alright now, thanks,” Hudson replied as he removed his cast and tested his arm for any lingering pain. He felt a slight ache, but it didn’t bother him much compared to when he first got injured.

“Okay, let’s see if we can find you a suitable weapon.”

“Weapon?”

They approached a shouting old man who had a small store filled with barrels of swords.

“Hello, esteemed swordsman. Here, I have a wide selection of weapons to choose from, the finest in the nine realms. You won’t find them anywhere else, I guarantee it.”

Mr Swordsman examined one sword, admiring its surface and flame-like design on the hilt of the blade. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen it before.

“Ah, I see you like that one. It’s a magnificent blade, passed down through generations of hardship and war. It has endured countless trials and its fiery nature is a testament to its strength.”

Mr Swordsman returned the blade to the trader, saying, “Not quite what we’re looking for. The edges are too blunt for my companion, right, Hudson?”

Hudson nodded in agreement. “Hmm, yes. We should continue our search.”

The trader, slightly disappointed, offered, “I can bring more swords for you to consider. Just wait here, okay?”

“There’s no need for that, my friend. We will take our leave.” As they turned to leave, the trader stretched his arm to stop them and accidentally knocked over a large sack, revealing more flame swords.

“Looks like there are plenty of special swords here that have seen the perils of war,” Hudson said, suppressing his laughter.

As they ventured further into the market, Mr. Swordsman noticed a subtle change in the atmosphere. Despite the bright sunshine, there was an ominous feeling of impending darkness in the air. An enigmatic aura, as strong as his - maybe even stronger - flowed through the streets rapidly. It went unnoticed by the townsfolk, but it left behind a bitter taste in Mr. Swordsman’s mouth. The storm clouds he had observed the previous day were rapidly approaching, casting a shadow over the once-vibrant scene.

“Strange weather we’re having today.”

*

Pasta arrived at Meaty Maniacs, an eccentric eatery known for its meat dishes and alcoholic beverages. The enticing aroma of tender meat filled the air, and Pasta could already envision himself satisfying his hunger. In a rush towards the counter, he was halted by an enormous figure wearing an apron, who then pointed to a sign next to Pasta that read, “No Swords allowed”.

Pasta eyed the food being served and back at the sign, then again to the food.

“Anything for the meal,” he said, dropping his sword in the barrel.

He placed his sword among the rest of the barrel with the other swords. He ordered his usual rice, meat, and a nice sauce to top it all off. Mary sat next to him.

“So Hudson right? What brings you to Pyrovile?” Mary asked. Little Bobby stood guard at the entrance.

“Well, I’m here to help a friend of mine, nothing much”

“Oh, I don’t mean to pry, but what sort of problem?”

“It’s a secret”

Mary nodded, “I understand”

Pasta took up a glass of water and offered it to her, but she politely declined it.

“You’re a nice girl, maybe too nice,” Pasta said, drinking his glass of water. “You bought me a chewy delicacy and now you’re also paying for my meal”

“No worries, anything for a visitor of Pyrovile”

Pasta’s eyes glittered. He has finally seen the girl one more nicer than the two demon queens he’s been traveling with. He went on one knee and stretched his hand to her.

“Marry me”

“Huh?” she said, her face bright red, about to explode maybe.

Little Bobby wielded his sword with no care for the rules of the restaurant. Pasta noticed him once again and took his seat.

“Just a little joke, that’s all,” Pasta said.

“OK, then.” She said, grabbing a glass of water to calm her nerves.

The server came over with Pasta’s order, dropping it on the table before taking her leave.

“Thanks,” Pasta said, clapping his hands. The bowl of rice with his sauce and tender meat filled the surrounding air. His aura brightened, which intrigued Little Bobby.

“He’s not an ordinary one,” Little Bobby said, “And his sword also doesn’t feel normal”

The doors open, Matthew and the guards walk in, all brandishing weapons.

“Guess our sources were right. There is a strange visitor here”

Matthew saw the notice on the wall and let out a sigh. “I forgot we’re here,” he said, “Ok boys, keep your weapons”

“What brings the guards and the mercenary to a place like this?” Little Bobby asked, meeting Matthew’s eyes.

“Huh? Can’t we have breakfast anymore?” Matthew said, “I was interrupted earlier so I’m in no mood for your questions, servant.”

Pasta received his hot bowl of rice. “Thanks, Mary, I owe you big time.” His aura picked up, he was surrounded by three no five men. They had no weapons, but their aura was stronger than mere town folks.

“What’s your name, Bandit” Matthew said with a grin, pulling a seat next to Pasta.

“Oh, I get it. Are you guys hungry?”

“How does that have to do with what I said?”

“My name? I don’t have one hehe”

Matthew chuckled, “You really are like that man”.

Pasta cocked his head, “So you know Mr. Swordsman huh,” he said, picking up his spoon. “That’s nice, pretty weird fellow. Now may you excuse me? I’m about to have my breakfast.”

Matthew knocked off his spoon and eyed Mary, who ignored him, enjoying her empty glass of water, then back to Pasta, “Do you think this is some sort of joke?”

Little Bobby moved forward but was stopped by some of the guards. Some others came in and surrounded Pasta.

“You know why I’m here,” Matthew said, his voice low. “Now should we do this the easy way or the hard way”

Pasta laughed, “You really are hungry, aren’t you?”

Matthew swung his arm, signaling the guards to hold down Pasta, who bowed his head and took a deep breath. “This is gonna be fun”

He abruptly leaped out of his seat, and despite their attempts to restrain him, he managed to vault onto the counter, kicking plates toward the guards.

“Damn you,” one of the guards muttered.

He skillfully evaded each guard as he hopped across the shack, leaping onto tables, and unintentionally knocking off the food. The other customers fled in fear of getting hurt. Mary remained in her seat. For some reason, she enjoyed watching the chaos.

The chief, unperturbed by the commotion, silently headed towards the door, flipping the sign from “open” to “closed”. He paid no attention to the damages, as long as his simple rule remained unbroken. His face remained impassive, his unkempt beard faintly smelling of animal fat. Returning to the kitchen, he continued working on his masterpiece.

Pasta found himself cornered with no escape. The guards had surrounded him again. Desperate, he grabbed forks and butter knives from the table and skillfully flung them towards the guards’ eyes.

Matthew grew increasingly frustrated and pursued him. Pasta positioned himself at one end of the table while Matthew stood at the other.

“This is pointless. Stop with your games and tell me where I can find your partner,” Matthew said.

“No deal. Maybe if you bring me another bowl of rice, I might consider it,” Pasta taunted.

“You have no right to negotiate. Now tell me,” Matthew retorted.

“Are you really a dedicated guy at your work, or are you just too poor to afford rice?” Pasta said, his voice with a higher pitched than normal. “Want some coins? They’ll go a long way for you.”

Enraged, Matthew moved to the other side of the table and Pasta mirrored his movements, constantly switching positions. However, Matthew eventually outsmarted him and leaped over the table. Pasta swiftly slid under the table to the opposite side and bolted for the exit. Retrieving his sword, he stylishly placed two fingers on his forehead and bid them farewell.

“Hey, Bandit, you’re leaving?” Matthew said, his fingers threatening Mary’s eyes.

“Let her go!” Little Bobby rushed towards her but was restrained once again. Matthew chuckled, his eyes widening and his veins pulsating. Saliva dripped from his mouth. “If you want to save your dear friend here. I suggest you give up?”

Pasta slowly made his way towards the exit, disregarding Matthew’s threats. The mission took precedence; the others needed him, and he couldn’t afford to be captured here. Saving hundreds of lives outweighed saving one. So why couldn’t he bring himself to leave the room? Standing at the entrance with a sword in hand, he turned to face Matthew, only to be swiftly knocked out by the approaching guards.

*

“Lord Sparrow, a delivery arrived,” a guard said.

Sparrow lounged on his plush couch, running his fingers through the soft fur of a white kitten as he savored a crisp, red apple beneath the warm gaze of the morning sunlight. He cast a sly glance at the guards, placing a finger to his lips and giving a casual wave of his hand. The guard responded with a respectful bow and promptly exited the room.

“Tony, what brings you here and at the perfect moment too”

The guards opened the doors for Tony, as he strode in, “That’s why you can’t have surprises Sparrow,” Tony said, “Still as perspective as ever”

“I appreciate the compliment. It isn’t common for you to visit me, so what’s the special occasion or dolmen”

Tony sat next to Sparrow, tapping the edge of his glass, which the maid responded to by pouring him a drink. “Rumors”

“Rumors?”

Tony took a sip of the wine, placed the glass on the table, and sighed, “He’s here in Pyrovile”

“I would like it if you didn’t beat around the bush at the moment. Anticipation for your news has driven me slightly mad”

“The one who’s been the major topic these days, someone we didn’t expect we ever have to get involved with”

Sparrow let go of his cat and leaned back in his chair, eyeing the ceiling. “The Weeping Swordsman has arrived in Pyrovile”

Tony sighed, finishing up his wine, “So you’re already aware,” he said, “This is going to be problematic”

“Absolutely, but I’ve just received some news,” Sparrow said, gazing at his feet. The room grew dimmer as heavy, dark storm clouds obscured the sun.

The guard returned, holding a black suitcase. He placed it on the table, put the password, and opened it before taking his leave.

“Beautiful right? A weapon capable of killing the Weeping Swordsman”

*

“They say he’s immortal”

“He’s not human, that’s for sure”

“What should we do?”

Pasta’s eyes slowly fluttered open. The murmurs and chaotic footsteps around him made his ears ring. His vision was hazy, but amidst the confusion, he spotted Little Bobby dashing away with Mary in his arms.

He saw Matthew glaring into the distance, his body shivering, while sweat raced down his face. Pasta was handcuffed and felt powerless. He looked ahead and saw an enigmatic figure wearing a straw hat and a black blade, emitting an enormous aura capable of easily breaking through walls.

“Mr. Swordsman?”