The Weeping Swordsman

In the rain-soaked streets of Kanto, the enigmatic swordsman wandered through the deserted town, his straw hat shielding his face from the downpour. The townsfolk, liberated from the hunters, whispered tales of the mysterious figure who had slain Ragnar, eager to show their gratitude but finding him long gone. The Swordsman walked into an inn, removing his hat, which revealed his piercing green eyes and his drop-dead looks. He approached the innkeeper, who was already trembling ever since he saw a tall figure walked right in.

“I need a room,” the swordsman said, his voice low and calm. The innkeeper quickly nodded, handing him a key. As he made his way to his room, his thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Ragnar. The brute’s arrogance had been his downfall, but his strength was really something. That time when he unleashed his flames, a moment of hesitation from myself would have resulted in the whole town burning down. The adventurers at the bar were also a nuisance and that girl. He laughed to himself, calling it a night.

*

In the adventurer guild master’s office, Emilia surveyed the room, trying to stave off her boredom. She picked some documents, scanning through them while her brother, Pasta, lay sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly, no surprise there. The office was simple, but the numerous trophies displayed on the walls told of the guild master’s illustrious career. She had heard of his excellent reputation, but seeing the awards in person was another matter. The door burst open, and an old man in a dark suit strode in. This was Duke RK Bloodborne, the famed guild master of the nine realms.

“Emilia, is it? Please, have a seat,” he said, his voice resonant.

She complied, nudging her brother awake.

“Is it time for breakfast already?” he yawned, stretching.

He noticed the old man and quickly dropped his arms and attempted to look serious, though his dishevelled appearance betrayed him.

“I’m afraid we have a problem,” Bloodborne said, his voice laced with concern and disappointment.

“What is it?” Emilia asked, stepping up as her brother continued to doze.

Bloodborne sighed. “I had assigned an adventurer to oversee your journey, but he perished in an unexpected incident.”

“Oh my,” Emilia gasped.

Pasta, still half-asleep, barely reacted. Bloodborne removed his glasses, dwelling in a moment of silence. He felt a rare pang of disappointment in himself. They assigned him the task of providing a guardian and overseer for the siblings on their journey home as fledgling adventurers. A new batch of adventurers had emerged on these parts after Lion’s Claw made a significant impact by saving a distant town. He had planned to have a member of Lion’s Claw accompany them, but they had all died mysteriously, a swordsman to blame. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. If it really was a swordsman. He already had a good guess who it was.

“Why not just let us go alone?” Pasta mumbled, his loud snores filling the room. Emilia stood, grabbed her sheathed sword, and sighed before thwacking Pasta’s head with it.

“Eek! What was that for, sis?”

“You always come up with the dumbest ideas.”

“What dumb ideas? My ideas are not dumb—they are simply unique,” he smirked, rubbing his head.

Bloodborne sighed once more. Emilia had a short sword strapped to her waist, yet her build wasn’t that of a warrior. Pasta, however, was more impressive. With a longer blade at his side, he carried himself with the ease and confidence of an average adventurer.

“I am confident in both of your skills as swordsmen, but you lack experience. There are monsters out there far beyond your imagination. I still don’t understand why your parents would permit such a dangerous task. This isn’t a playdate, you know.”

Emilia bowed her head. She had always wanted to be an adventurer, even if just a little, and this was the perfect chance. However, she couldn’t ignore the recklessness of it all. Pasta, well, was Pasta. He unsheathed his blade, striking a dramatic pose.

“If an adversary ever crosses paths with me, the mighty Pasta, his life shall be forfeit to my blade! Hahaha!” Emilia cringed, hoping he would trip over his own feet. The guild master shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Your enthusiasm is commendable, Pasta, but this is no joke. You must be cautious,” Bloodborne said.

Emilia sighed, knowing her brother probably wasn’t listening to a single word Bloodborne had said. “We’ll be careful, Master Bloodborne. We promise.”

“A promise won’t suffice. If anything happens to you, your parents will have my head,” he said, patting his chest to steady himself as he took his seat.

“Sir, you have a visitor,” a girl said, cracking the door. “Hey, you have no permission to enter.” her words fell upon deaf ears. A cloaked figure wearing a straw hat made his way into the office. For a moment, it felt like the devil himself had entered; the air became heavy. Bloodborne’s eyes narrowed towards the figure, and with a commanding gaze, the ominous aura dissipated as if banished by a spell. Who is this guy? Pasta glared, meeting his eyes. He quickly bowed his head, trembling. Emilia couldn’t move either. She remained quiet, trying to hide her presence. The attendant sighed, locking the door behind her.

“Hey now, let’s not scare the kids, shall we?” Bloodborne said with a playful grin.

“I see. I never imagined an old rooster like you still had any crow left in him!” the figure said. He took a seat between the siblings, their faces paler than ghosts at midnight. Bloodborne flashed a strained grin, attempting to conceal his exasperation.

“They’re not mine,” he said, offering some tea to the swordsman, only to be met with a swift rejection.

“I’ve no time for that. It’ll take months to reach my master’s domain, and I’m as penniless as a bard after a free performance.” he turned to Bloodborne, “Could you lend a comrade some coin? I vow not to repay you, of course.” He removed his hat, leaned forward, and clasped his hands together on his lap.

Bloodborne glowed red, his expression shifting as he closed his eyes and mustered up yet another fake smile. It was the same old routine — he’d embark on a mission, run out of coin, then come knocking on my door for more. An endless cycle that never seemed to end. Sometimes I questioned why they called him that. The swordsman was a towering young man, his well-toned body and attire which were strangely always tattered cloaks, and his weapon an ordinary yet intriguing sword.

“So, what’ll it be?” the uninvited guest said, his voice calm yet undeniably intimidating.

“First off, could you calm the little ones? They were jittery before you arrived, and now they’re shaking like you’re the demon lord himself.”

“Oh, is that so? Maybe if you pay me, I’ll-“

“Just settle the tiny terrors, and then we’ll discuss your empty coin purse.”

The swordsman leaned in towards Emilia, his menacing presence making her heart race like a war drum. Meanwhile, Pasta silently cursed himself for failing to protect his sister from this menace, already mourning the loss of her delicious potato stews. Realizing how badly the situation was escalating, Bloodborne stepped in.

“Oh, pay no heed to him, younglings! He’s just an old friend with a face only a mother could love. Come now, no need to be shy!”.

Gathering all the courage she could muster, Emilia took a deep breath. “I-I am h-humbly—uh—my n-name is E-Emilia.” She said, trying her hardest to maintain her composure, sounding as courteous as she could manage.

“And you can call me Pasta.”

He sought refuge at the far end of the couch, either trying to distance himself from the awkwardness of the situation or the swordsman’s menacing presence, or maybe both.

“Pasta? What are you, a quick snack?”

“What insolence! I’ll repay that with the sharp kiss of my blade, you demon!” he said, unsheathing his sword and aiming it at the undaunted swordsman’s gullet. “Well? Any last words?”.

Emilia waved her hands frantically behind him. Pasta, meanwhile, scoffed inwardly. He may have a terrifying aura and be strangely composed even when met with a blade, but that does not change the fact that he’s at my mercy.

“STOP!” Bloodborne’s booming voice echoed through the room as he summoned a long staff from thin air. He moved with incredible speed to intercept the swordsman’s lethal strike, aimed at Pasta’s arm. The clash of steel rang out, leaving behind a stunned silence. Bloodborne sighed, turning to Pasta.

“Young one, while he may be entertaining, this man is dangerous.” With a nod of apology to the swordsman, he added, “I apologize for his rudeness.”

Pasta quickly took his seat, offering his apology. Meanwhile, Emilia breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that no one got hurt even when she herself was shaken by the situation.

“So, you said you needed some money. Well, I’ve got a job for you,” Bloodborne announced, levitating his staff before making it vanish.

“Well, what is it?”

“It’s a humble request. I’d like you to escort these siblings to the fourth realm.”

The swordsman gave him a puzzled stare. “Do I look like some sort of babysitter?”

“You definitely do not,” Bloodborne said with a sigh, “but you do need the money, and the fourth realm is on your path, is it not?”

“You’re not wrong, Bloodborne, but these critters? Are you sure there isn’t another job offer?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t”

The swordsman crossed his arms and glared, his eyes narrowing into slits. I crave the money—without it, I wouldn’t last a week, let alone a month. Taking the children with me is another matter; even if I have food and other amenities, I would have to protect them as my own. The thought of it makes me a little eager.

“Alright then, it’s a deal.”

“My attendant will see to your needs,” Bloodborne said, signing some documents on his desk.

“Sir, isn’t there a better option? Why him?” Pasta asked, remaining seated and frowning.

“He is a trustworthy companion and a pretty excellent cook, too,” Bloodborne chuckled, his grandfatherly warmth slipping out a little.

“And what does that have to do with anything?” Pasta retorted.

“I’m also not in favour of this, you imp!”

“Alright, how about you have a say in this, Emilia?” Bloodborne turned to her, then the other two did the same.

“I’ll go with whatever you say, sis,” Pasta assured with a bright smile, unknowingly pressuring her. She had been enjoying her time just listening in, still a little startled by the swordsman’s presence. Now they were pinning the decision on her. She steadied her breathing so she wouldn’t appear too flustered. “Well, the guild master did say he is trustworthy, and also we can’t go alone. It’s too dangerous,”

Pasta’s face slowly turned upside down. “Forget about what I said,” he said, turning to the guild master. “Please, sir! I’m begging you!”. But his pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bloodborne remained unmoved. With a dismissive gesture, they were all escorted out of his office. Bloodborne reclined in his chair, savouring the peace and quiet. He trusted in the swordsman’s capabilities; the children would be fine under his watchful eye. Even if Pasta attempted another stunt, nothing would go awry. For now, his blade and life belonged to those two, though they likely didn’t realize it yet. Chuckling to himself, he gazed out of the window, enjoying the view of the town below.

*

Darius strode across the desolate, snow-covered terrain of the fourth realm; the realm of the departed.

Around his shoulders lay a polar beast, its sheer size dwarfing even the largest of polar bears, blood staining the pristine white snow in its wake. As they reached a small cavern, Darius flung the beast’s body onto the ground.

“Lunch is ready, boys,” Darius said, grabbing an axe and swiftly severing the beast’s head. He shook the snow from his body and wore some pants since he’d been out wearing nothing all this time. He tossed the decapitated head to his comrade Thorne, a figure more beast than man. Thorne’s hair resembled fur, and his claws were deadlier than their lunch. His face was the only human aspect of him. Meanwhile, his other comrades were playing a game deep within, their raucous noise filling the cavern.

“Seems those guys are still at it, I presume.” Darius sliced open the beast’s belly and tore out its bones with his bare hands.

“For hours, I’ve been haunted by screams—screams of pests and false hopes,” Thorne said, sinking his teeth into the flesh and fur of the beast’s head, relishing the taste.

“I’ll go have a look.” Darius tossed the beast toward Thorne. “Help me finish up, and try not to eat it, or I’ll kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Thorne said, his face remaining stoic, betraying no emotion and brown eyes smoldering with tightly contained rage and a flicker of concern. Darius made his way deeper into the cavern, the screams getting louder with each step he took. Met by a pool of blood and bones, he saw his four other comrades. “I’ll take it from here,” he stated, feeling the edges of his axe as he stepped closer.

“Please, have mercy, I beg of you!” the young man cried out. His eyes were gouged out, scars and cuts covering his naked body, while the other seven captives joined him from behind, pleading for their lives. Bastian laughed, smacking Ryder on the side, who silently ignored him.

“Please, let us go!” the young man pleaded, snot dripping from his nose.

“What a disgusting sight,” Zephyr scowled, walking away, leaving the rest of the job for her friend Darius.

“Now, let’s get it over with, shall we?”

Darius swiftly chopped off the hand of the young man with his axe. The other captives fell silent as they watched their friend crawl on the earth in pain, on the verge of biting his tongue. Darius grabbed his hair, pulled him from the floor, and punched him in the face. “Don’t you die on me, got that?”. The young man shivered, trying to hold in the unbearable pain of his lost hand. Meanwhile, Bastian continued laughing aloud, enjoying the show as if it were a comedy genre.

“What do you want?” the man said, his voice low. Darius lifted him by his hair and aimed his axe towards the man’s face.

“Tell me where I can find the weeping swordsman.”