“The world is nothing but a sphere of uncertainty, populated by hordes of hungry individuals who wish to become something they desire,” Thorne said as he sat on a stone slab. Zephyr, who entertained herself by swiftly moving her knife around her fingers, accompanied him. Bastian carried a heavy wooden log on his shoulder while repairing their damaged carriage.
“You speak weird quotes but see what you caused, just how much do you weigh?” Zephyr asked.
Thorne staggered to his feet, brushing the dirt from his eyes. He gazed out at the violent snowstorm raging around him. Flashes of lightning illuminate the dark skies. The tall trees thrashed back and forth in the howling wind, while in the distance, a menacing tornado loomed.
“Are you even listening? It’s all your fault, you overweight bear,” Zephyr said, her knife poised as she locked eyes with Thorne. His gaze burned red, his expression stoic, but his energy crackled through the air, like a wild beast ready to pounce. Zephyr met his stare with her own fierce energy, creating a palpable tension. While her force wasn’t as potent as Thorne’s, she stood her ground, maintaining a bold gaze despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins and her legs threatening to give out.
“I apologize,” Thorne said with a sigh, as the energy slowly dissipated.
“Try to lower down on the meat then, it’ll help”
“I’ll try”
Bastian laughed, making the finishing touches to the carriage.
“It should be able to carry your weight now, boss,” he said, smiling at the carriage.
“I see, let’s move then, let’s not keep him waiting”
Bastian continued laughing, stroking his beard, “Pyrovile is going to be fun hehe”
“This is quite fortunate for us, having both of our targets in a single town,” Zephyr said.
Thorne shook off the snow from his fur, his face still calm, but an inner joy warmed his being.
“Killing off two pests with a single stone is quite fortunate,” Thorne said, his eyes still glowing red. “I know he’ll be excited to see this old face, a fortunate situation it is for both of us”
*
At the circular table, nine elderly men sat, each accompanied by their well-armed guards. Bloodborne, dressed in a striking red jacket embellished with numerous medals, sported a hat bearing a rose emblem and wore glasses. Positioned at the center of the table, he held a scroll and proceeded to read from it.
“The recent separation from our esteemed lord and dear friend has deeply affected us. The conflict at the southern bay underscores the significant importance of the current situation between each realm and the concerning rise of hunters and adventurers from our lands and beyond the grand ocean. As a lord of the realm, I have proposed seeking your support to confront this impending threat. Our aim is to prevent further bloodshed and maintain peaceful relations within our realm. I appreciate your attention as I speak candidly about my concerns, and I implore you to consider the innocent lives entangled in this predicament. Thank you.”
Bloodborne closed his eyes in silence, sighed, and closed the scroll, placing it on a pillow held by the butler standing beside him.
“Absolutely ridiculous, truly ridiculous,” Ansan, the lord of the third, said, slamming his fist on the table. “Cooperation? Support? How dare he make such atrocious suggestions? Even our meeting makes my tongue bitter.”
“Calm yourself,” Mikah, lord of the seventh, said. “Bloodborne was only asked by the enigmatic lord to read us a message. There’s no reason for you to raise your voice at him.”
Ansan clenched his teeth, shaking his head as the guards behind him leveled deadly glares at Lord Mikah. Before they could act, a lone figure emerged by Mikah’s side. He was dressed in only trousers, with a massive sword strapped across his chest and two small floating dragons attached to its handle. The man exuded strength, resembling a fortress amidst an unending battle. His fiery hair and an unwavering gaze struck fear into the spines of Lord Ansan’s guards.
Lord Mikah noticed this, chuckled, and observed the other lords’ reactions to the situation. He couldn’t blame Ansan for his outburst, since what Bloodborne said was really out of place and filled with uncertainty. The nine realms have thrived for decades without any help from each other, each providing their own resources and means. Although there were no conflicts between the realms and business trades were usually made, there still resides bad blood between them. This originated from a past dispute between all the realms, and even as countless years have passed, they still couldn’t forget the struggles of their ancestors, unfortunately, him included.
“Say, Bloodborne, are you willing to reveal the writer of the scroll to us?” Lord Dvalin of the fourth asked. “Surely, he must be seated at this roundtable. He’ll be able to make a more convincing statement if he talked in person.”
“Bloodborne bowed before the lords and said, “I am merely a reader of the scroll, and I have no knowledge of who assigned me this role, My Lord.”
His voice echoed in the room, vibrant and comforting, like that of a loving grandfather. All the lords smiled, and the tension eased up as if by magic. They now saw the reason why he was chosen among all the other options. He was a neutral man, born and raised in the jungle by his parents near the kingdom’s shores. Despite being older than them all, he remained humble. He was not only the Guild master of the kingdom but also the most powerful man in all the realms. He was known as Bloodborne, the loving lord and helper of all.”
Lord Dvalin sighed and shook his head, still smiling. “Your voice is still as magnificent as ever,” he said. “Dare I say, I wish to employ you as my right-hand man.”
“Your compliments are like gold, my lord. With it, I may even be spared more years,” Bloodborne said. “Now, I shall leave you all to your discussion.”
“Before you leave, Guild Master,” Missui, the lord of the second, said, stopping Bloodborne in his tracks, “I heard there will be an attack on our envoy. Would it not be sufficient to get a capable guard for him?”
“Yes, the issue concerning the flaming town. Rumors have spread of external forces ruling the land,” Lord Kabi of the ninth said. “It would be beneficial for us to get rid of them, since they are a threat to every realm.”
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“Their vision of creating a tenth is both intriguing and destructive considering the powerful forces they have siding with them,” Lord Kinna said.
“Speaking of powerful forces, we might have one here in our midst, wolves wearing cotton on their hideous skin and joining the lot,” Lord Missui said.
“So it’s official. We shall send our men to purge the land of flames,” Lord Dvalin said.
Bloodborne gave a heartwarming smile. “There’s no need for that,” he said. “I believe a certain friend of mine is also in said town, so the matter has already been resolved before it has begun. Now I take my leave.”
“And are you sure we should place our trust on that man you speak of?” Lord Henry, of the first, asked, his voice echoing through the room.
“Yes, I’m certain of it”
The other lords eased themselves as they continued their debate, which was to change the future of the kingdom and if unity was actually an option.
*
The meeting room had been prepared by the maids and butlers, each of them diligently carrying out their specific duties. Once finished, they positioned themselves at the corners of the room, joined by some of the guards. Tony, Hack, and Sparrow entered the room and took their respective seats. Tony wasted no time in pouring himself a morning glass of wine, while Sparrow eagerly awaited the arrival of his feathered companion. Hack bowed his head and clenched his fists.
“Today is the day, and yet you all seem completely unfazed by what’s about to happen,” Hack remarked.
Sparrow warmly embraced his friend as it flew towards him and perched on his tall hat.
“There’s no need to let the tension affect our moods,” Sparrow said.
“We have to live in the moments leading up to the eruption, so why should we be nervous?”
“Sparrow is right. Getting all worked up won’t do us any good,” Tony chimed in, taking a sip from his glass. “We have more important matters at hand, such as the arrival of the noble.”
Hack slammed the plates of food on the table, causing them to shatter on the floor. “I had completely forgotten about that. How is he able to remain hidden?”
“There’s no need for him to hide. My sources have informed me of a mysterious man who made his way here,” Tony said. “I suspect it’s the noble, so I ordered for all the entrances into the town to be sealed off. I used the attack of the weeping swordsman as a cover also to prevent suspicion from the residents.”
Hack leaned back in his chair and signaled one of the maids, who walked over to clean up the broken plates while another delivered some new food.
“You may be right, Tony”
Sparrow gently ran his fingers through the bird’s feathers before returning his attention to the meeting.
“Speaking of the swordsman, I heard the mercenaries captured his accomplice.”
“Yes, he is currently being held beneath the mansion. I wouldn’t dare let the authorities get their hands on him. And don’t worry, I’ve assigned some of the mercenaries to dress up as guards to keep an eye on him. “
“Lester will be perfect for interrogating him. He will experience the depths of hell tonight,” Hades said. “Now, let’s have breakfast, shall we?”
*
Pasta walked through the halls wearing heavy armor, feeling overwhelmed with joy. The exquisite armor was made of the finest steel, providing both comfort and a snug fit that allowed him to move freely and be more aware of his surroundings. The design was spectacular, with sharp edges on the elbows and kneecaps. Pasta couldn’t help but think that Tony must be pretty rich to have guards dressed like this.
He strode through the halls, carefully studying the layout of the building. Not making use of the opportunity would be a waste. He spent over an hour doing so, making sure not to attract any suspicion. Pasta made sure to avoid the other guards, as Hudson’s story had indicated that everyone in the manor was close-knit, making him not to have much time.
After disposing of the guards in the dungeon, he grabbed the armor from the dungeon. Despite the pleas from other prisoners to release them, he ignored them, thinking of them as nothing but annoying flies buzzing in his ear. Although he was completely innocent himself, well, not actually a hundred percent innocent. He couldn’t say the same to the others. Pasta placed one of the dead guard’s bodies in a cell and chained it to the walls to prevent anyone from finding out too early. He had done everything he could, and the only thing left was for him to leave the manor. Suddenly, another guard grabbed him from behind.
“Hey buddy, what ya doing here? Let’s go.”
“Huh?”
Some other guards came also pulling Pasta, all chanting “Meat, meat, meat,” raising their hands in the air while they held their swords and spears.
Meat? Pasta thought. He joined them in the chant as they encountered a dirty Gordon at the entrance of the kitchen.
“And where do you guys think you’re going?”
“Come on, Gordon, don’t be like that,” one of the guards said.
Gordon stared at Pasta, “So you’ve joined them in these acts, haven’t you and I thought better of you”
Me? Pasta thought, pointing at himself.
“No, my left butt cheek,” Gordon said, standing his ground at the entrance, “No one disrupts the kitchen today. I won’t let it happen unless I’m dead”
“Would you give it a rest?” Mary said as she walked past him. “You boys can go in, and Gordon, sir, were you expecting them? If not, what were those pies you baked earlier for, hmm?”
Gordon gave her the Don’t say that look while she tried to hold in her laughter.
“Pies? Gordon, you really are amazing. Pies and meat, pies and meat!” they chanted, and the same with Pasta as they made their way inside the kitchen.
Mary eyed Pasta as the guards made their way into the kitchen, still singing their chants.
The kitchen exuded a lively atmosphere, filled with the mouthwatering scent of freshly cooked food, particularly the aroma of meat that hung in the air. It captivated anyone who caught a whiff, as though the meal was a divine offering. Perhaps Pasta was exaggerating, having gone hungry the entire night. The guards positioned themselves at their customary table across the kitchen, armed with cards for a game. Some attempted to charm the maids and chefs in their own ways. Pasta chose to join a different group, one whose pure and simple desire was for food, the one thing that could captivate a person’s heart. Pies were presented alongside cold beer and meat, an unusual combination that mattered little as long as it tantalized the taste buds and nourished the soul.
“Thank you for the meal,” Pasta said, clapping his hands as he dived into the food, eating as fast as he could. Change of plans, he thought. After breakfast, I’ll storm out of this place. If Hudson could do it, so could I.
“You seem quite comfortable,” one of the guards said.
“Yes, the food tastes amazing,” Pasta replied, still stuffing the meat into the opening of his helmet until he was faced with a sword.
“Do you take us for fools? Because it looks like you do,” the guard said, pointing the sword at Pasta.
Pasta’s eyes cleared as he saw the occupants of the kitchen casting their stares at him. The other guards all wielded their swords, their faces calm. I’m dead, he thought, staring at the roofs. His only regret was that he hadn’t fought a dragon as an adventurer.
“You killed the mercenaries at the prison and escaped. The follower of the weeping swordsman sure is something,” the guard said. “Luckily for us, the other inmates there were not happy with your escape, so we heard their screams.”
Pasta’s eyes were still on the roof, still lost in thought. So those bastards ratted him out and worst of all, he can’t finish his meal.
“Now it’s either I get you back to the cell or I kill you right here”
“Hey, hey not in my kitchen, you brute. Take your matters outside before I smack you and that imposter with a hot pan”
“There’s no need for that,” Mary said, walking towards the guards.
“We can handle this Mary, don’t worry about it,” the guard said.
Mary sighed, “Pasta, what are you doing here in Pyroville? Tell me the truth”
Pasta removed his helmet, meeting her eyes. He had a closer look at her. She must be Hudson’s partner, he thought.
“I can’t say”
“Well then, you don’t mind being executed then,” Mary said. “You don’t seem like a bad individual, so I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. You should take it”
Pasta sighed, rubbing his hair. “How can I say this?”
“I’m listening, please do hurry up. The morning meeting will soon be over”
“Okay then,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m a friend of Hudson.” They all fell silent, and all eyes were on him. Mary got rid of the shocked expression on her face. “You know Hudson?” “Yes, we met a couple of days ago. He was injured severely,” Pasta said. “My sister and I, along with a swordsman, helped him out.”
“This better be no joke, boy. If it is, you’ll get more than a pan to the face,” Gordon said.
Pasta explained his entire encounter with Hudson and how they were currently in Pyroville to save the city from danger. He didn’t inform them of the specific type of danger, leaving that responsibility to Hudson himself.
Mary and Gordon walked towards Pasta, their eyes glittering and almost teary.
“I want to meet the master,” they said.