An hour has passed since last my conversation with Makoto. Drained of energy, my legs force me to rest on one of the bamboo benches placed by the beach in this harbour city. Whilst I sit, recouping myself, my straw knapsack rests in the spot free beside me, hunching as if also tired from my long journey from the lake to here.
All the while, I admire the sea just a minute or two worth of walking ahead of me. Isn’t it beautiful? Why is it that a human, such as I, is privileged to be an audience to such a magnificent work of Gaia? A vast expanse of varying, cool hues—emerald, diamond, sapphire—topped with a foamy froth like sheep’s wool, stretching before me for Lume knows how many kilometres. The sun, with its scorching gaze, accentuates the beauty of the sea, shining it with a beam that makes the world turn in awe of all of its shining glimmer. Not only does it have the beauty of the Deities, but it also has a voice akin to that of sirens! Just listen to it, luring me with its soft tunes as it bathes the rough sands with its embrace. Isn’t it just so beautiful…? If only Fisk were here to admire that beauty as well.
In nearly every passage here, vendors holler and yell. The stone paths thrum with each footstep of locals shopping for their daily needs and the incessant gasps and shrieks of tourists drawn by the allure of this city. Every turn one dares take in this town, some old merchant is guaranteed to ambush you, a tray filled with trinkets and goods in hands, and their tongues loaded with words to pitch to you in hopes of one more sale today. An endless row of stalls line the sidewalks, each displaying an array of goods unique to this city, from their famous hand-made fishing rods to rare oddities such as Arcana-embued geodes.
Since Fisk’s departure, I have found myself drawn to this town. It had long been a dream of his to migrate from the mountains down to here. At every possible opportunity, he’d blabber to me about how great this place was. Anything he could say just to convince me to come to live here came straight out of his mouth: beautiful and cheap housing, inexpensive daily goods, accessible markets and transport, and much more—more than I could count with my ten fingers. And, now that I have spent the last two weeks being a transient resident of this city, I see why he harboured such a deep love for this place.
An exasperated sigh comes out of me. “Had I heeded your pleas much earlier and we had come here, perhaps… Perhaps we wouldn’t be in the situation we both are in, dear.”
But what use is there reminiscing over what could’ve and should’ve been? What has been is forever etched into fate, and no tears nor cries could ever erase that. Damn it, Kotoko. Damn it all–
Oh, right.
Then, as if suddenly a single stroke of my rationality brushes against my mind, I am immediately reminded of my plans for tonight. All this clinging to what has been almost made me forget. Right then, first, I have to gather supplies. The ones in my sack are insufficient to suffice for the night. At best, I have until sunset before it runs dry of anything.
With my knapsack over my shoulder, I rise from the bench and head towards the central market. It doesn’t take long until the faint whispers of the vendors burst into my ears like deafening, popping firecrackers. On my left, I hear things about fresh produce and the like. On my right, customers are haggling for prices lower than the ones already displayed. I better make it out here quickly before my thoughts are drowned out.
Then, amidst the racket, the screams of a particular vendor wash out the rest.
“Rods! Spears! Nets!” A rugged voice screams. “Rods! Spears! Nets! All at prices at their best! Nothing more and nothing less!”
While some may see these rods, spears, and nets as trivial things to purchase, I do not see them as such. Before this era of strife, Fisk and I were quite fond of fishing as our pastime. We’d always frequent a large lake on the outskirts of the Raycanian plains, where undocumented fish with extraordinary properties and features lived. Spear fishing was my speciality. On the other hand, he mastered his way with a fishing rod. Now, in these past two weeks, I have caught glimpses of the way of life fisherfolk from this city have. The way they threw their nets, the way they speared fish with such great precision—these observations awakened two great revelations: first, our techniques sucked. Second, a new tactic for battle: the way of the ordinary, hardworking man combined with the ways of a warrior on the battlefield. Though seemingly inefficient in battle, theoretically, its efficacy could rival even my greatest techniques. And tonight, with the wares that this vendor is selling, I am finally granted the grand opportunity to test out my mind's delusions.
I walk up to the stall, already set on purchasing his wares. The few gold coins jingle in my pocket with each step, bouncing and mimicking my excitement. With the frown now off my face and a plastered smile in its place, I softly speak.
“Greetings of the harmonious Lume, kind sir.” I perform Lume’s gesture, “How much for one of each?”
Upon hearing my query, the man's eyes light up with sparkles brighter than that of the stars in my dreams. “O-oh? A customer? Oh, what a wondrous day from Lume!”
The man makes a grand bow for me, one hand over his stomach and the other raised to the air, before standing upright with a smile wider than the concave curves of the beach. He repeats Lume's gesture before speaking once more.
“Greetings of the Harmonious Lume, my lady! Prices, prices, prices… Oh, yes! Two Mingets for three Prismotous Rods, three Mingets per meter of the fishing net, and twenty Mingets for the Tana!”
Twenty? How odd. Usually, polearms run for roughly fifty to sixty Mingets, and those sold at that price are low-quality. The ones intended for fishing and hunting—ones that can withstand the strong waves of the Southern Crowlian Deeps—like the Tana go for more than two hundred. In my nearly thirty years of wielding a spear, I only now see one being sold for only twenty.
“Forgive me if I heard wrong, but did you say only twenty Mingets for your spears?” I raise a brow. “Do tell.”
“Unbelievable, I know, my lady. But, do trust me on that price,” he laughs. “These spears are of my own making. The blade is forged from the finest Calluminium steel, folded over 18 times, and treated to ensure strength enough to withstand the skin of a Dewoken!”
A Dewoken? If what this man claims is true, then that is pretty impressive. Other than the spear in my arsenal, I am aware of only four spears that wield the capabilities to match the immense strength of a Dewoken.
“If you don’t believe me, then here” —he forcibly places his spear into my free left hand, wrapping my fingers around the leather grips of the shaft— “see it for yourself!”
“Very well. Allow me a moment to inspect this, if you will.” I let down my knapsack on his stall and grip the spear with both hands.
It has been a while since I held a polearm with a wooden shaft. Though the feel of the leather grips isn’t as great as that of the smooth shaft of my black jadeite spear, it still is rather commendable. Just as the man said, the blade also appears to be of good quality. Its curve and shape match that of any high-quality ones. The edge also seems relatively sharp, but I couldn’t be bothered to test it. I wouldn’t want to attract any form of attention—not now. From what I can see, all of the man’s claims align perfectly.
“It seems you speak of the truth,” I smile at him as I return the polearm to his side. I pull three ten Mingets coins from my pocket and place them on the porcelain cash tray on top of his stall. “Very well. Three Prismotous Rods, two meters of net, and then one of your spears, if you will. As for the change, keep it.”
The man smiles back and rushes to the back of his stall. “Alright, I’ll prepare those things for you immediately, my lady!”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
/***/
Thirty minutes flit by. Before I knew it, I had left the central market with a sack filled with supplies enough to last me until tomorrow night. After I had purchased the rods, nets, and the Tana, I bought two large pieces of Crowlian Deepcarp and a small bag filled to the brim with vegetables and spices for my dinner later tonight and breakfast for the day after.
I have twenty or so minutes to spare before the time I had set for myself to head for Bluegate Pass. Given that, I decided to spend the last of it not wandering the sights the city had to offer, but instead, at the same bench where I was earlier.
I wandered the tight paths, weaving through the crowded crowd of tourists until I approached the main street. Then, just as I was heading down the steps to the beach, a light tap on my shoulder stopped me in my tracks.
A weak, rugged voice then talks to me. “E-excuse me… young lady.”
I turn my head, peering over my shoulder.
Just right behind me was a senile man. His thick, white hair was tied into a bun. Whatever loose strands of it flowed so lusciously with the summer breeze, so much so that from afar, you could mistake him for someone in their prime youth. A regal green, white, and pink hanfu clothed his figure, embellished with intricate golden floral ornaments and patterned with odd-looking depictions of some mythos I am unfamiliar with. And, unsurprisingly, a closed paper parasol was all that supported his shivering body. But, most of all, those eyes of his. Something about those feverish yellow eyes, as their gaze locks with my black eyes… Something’s off.
I put up an unsuspecting facade, slightly curving my lips and greeting him with kindness in my eyes. I perform Lume’s gesture and properly turn to him, as one should to their “elderly.”
“Greetings of the Harmonious Lume, sir,” I put my knapsack to the ground and both arms at my side. “Is something the matter, or can I do anything for you?”
“Y-yes…” he swallows his saliva. With teeth clattering and jittering, he continues, “You see… I just moved here from the Rabe district. Do you happen to k-know where the headquarters of t-the Sourires are? If so, could you be a dear and tell me where?”
I fall silent for a few seconds. With that bit of time, I did everything I could to analyse everything about this man. Since the first moment that his gaze intertwined with mine, a disgustingly suspicious stench exuded from him.
The Sourires…? Of all possible guilds in this city, why specifically them? No sane soul is that desperate to join a guild, right…? How strange. What business does an old man have with such a low-ranking guild in a low-rank district of Crowlia? But, from the looks of it, he did not come here to register with them.
His clothing suggests he is not native to this city, region, or Crowlia, despite his claims to have been a Rabe district resident. A hanfu, especially one as expensive and regal as his, can only ever be found in the upper-class regions of the Polarian Kingdom. Not only does his outfit support my suspicions, but so do his actions. No matter how rich or poor, Lume’s gesture is always customary in Crowlia. Even further, seniors in Crowlia would always request that the younger one drop any formality, which this man unsurprisingly did not. Had I not put down my knapsack and placed my arms to the side—a customary only present in the Polarian Kingdom—would he not have responded to me and instead scolded me for not giving respect to someone my ‘senior?’
Not only that, this man seems rather… familiar. My mind tells me that I have known and seen this man from a time long past, but his identity remains a shrouded mystery. I try to scrounge through the dozens of cards in my memories, each filled with every detail of every person I have laid my eyes upon in the thirty-five years I’ve lived, all in the hopes that I unravel the mask this man has placed upon himself. Try as I could, my brain could try no further. I was so damn close—his name was just at the tip of my tongue, ready to slip out, ready to break down this man’s facade. But each time I attempt to piece letters into a name, they tumble and scatter among the stormy seas of my incomprehensible thoughts the moment I almost could finish them.
Something is definitely off.
But I couldn’t spend any more time staring blankly at the man, nor could I spend any further wasting my brainpower. Two seconds was already far too long for a pause between responses. So, I responded to the man’s query.
“Why, yes, I do happen to know where the Sourires are,” I softly reply with a smile as fake as his. “Their headquarters are way back near where the central market is. Head towards the Western Docks from the fountain until you can find the Azul Tower. Their headquarters should be right by it.”
Just as I had, the man stares blankly at me and murmurs a croaking sound. But, after five seconds, he smiles once more and replies. “Why, thank you, kind lady. S-sorry for troubling you. I shall head on my way.”
“Very well, sir,” I bow, briefly placing my left hand on my chest before placing it down. “May Lume bless you and your travels.”
The man stares at me again, unaware of the appropriate response to such a gesture. Usually, one responds, “And so may He unto you.” But, unsurprisingly, he didn’t. That, alone, proves every one of my suspicions. Given that, I’ve only one question: Who is this man?
Before he or I could answer my question, he finally concluded our conversation. “Thank you, k-kind lady. If you will excuse me, I shall be on my way now…
… Kotoko.”
The man makes a bow, opening up his parasol and resting it against his shoulder. He turns away from me and heads up the flight of steps back onto the main street. His figure slowly fades into the crowd, and eventually, he is no longer within my sight.
…
……
………
Did he just utter my name? … I never once gave him my name. How does he know?
Something’s off. Something is definitely off.
How does he know?
Aside from Fisk, my guild mates, and the families under the Ozaki Clan, none know my name. I am certain that man was not among my guild mates, not with those clothes, demeanour, and age. Surely… surely…
Wait… his outfit…
“Shit,” I murmur under my breath.
It could’ve not been. Surely. If my intuitions serve me right, then… that man was an officer under the Ozaki Clan. Shit. If that were to be true, then whatever force he has brought here will soon be aware of my current whereabouts.
Shit.
I’ve no time left.
I need to head for Bluegate Pass now. With the current strength of the Ozaki Clan, it’d be only a matter of two or so minutes before a battalion would march onto here, fully armed and ready against me. Though I am confident in my capabilities as a polearm user and proficient Magi, it isn’t within my interests to seek a battle, especially now.
Wasting no further time revelling in my thoughts, I grab my knapsack off the ground, head up the stairs, and dash opposite where I last saw him.
I force myself through the crowd, letting no cart, man, wall, building, or whatever stop me. The enraged cries of the people I push against deafen my ears. All things I never thought could be spouted by the human mouth suddenly were, all because of a slight push. However, their words slip through the other end of my head. I pay their insults no mind and continue to rush through the crowd. My only goal now is to go beyond the Northern Gates and escape into the woods leading to Bluegate Pass.
My heart grinds against my ribs with each step. The only thing filling my ears were the thumps of my heartbeat as they struggled to keep me conscious. A thick haze clouds my vision. Everything before my sight dizzies into an incomprehensible spiral. Wake up. The faces of those around me blur into horrors worse than any man could muster. I don’t know who or what to trust anymore. Faint whispers murmuring jumbled phrases crawl into and scratch my eardrums. Wake up, Kotoko. A ringing sensation almost deafens, taunting me, pleading to me to rip off my ears to free myself from this pain. My breathing grows hasty and erratic. Slowly, my control over my body slips from my grasp. Wake up, Kotoko. Wake up. At this point, only the thought of a thousand soldiers of the Ozaki charging at me, baring their blades and summoning their spells fuels me.
Why… why am I so afraid? There’s nothing to be afraid of… right? No, no, surely. Surely there is. Was it those amber eyes of his? Something. Wake up. There has to be something. Is it the thought of being held and tormented by men against my will once more? No… I know I can handle them now. Of course, I can! I am Kotoko, the Spear; wielder of the Four Style Arcana… No, no, no… you can’t win. No, you can’t. Yes, I can win. No… no… yes—
Then, as if suddenly, my delusions are washed away from my mind by an unknown force.
Silence fills my surroundings and mind.
…
I was in the city centre only a moment ago, squashed and crushed between the hordes of people exploring the city as I swam against what felt like waves, the strengths of which are only heard in legends. But then, time flashed before me, and I found myself far beyond the gates of the Eastern Gates and already close to the fork leading to Bluegate Pass.
… What a tiring day.