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The Weeping Swordsman
Chapter 17: Don't wear a gown under the sun- Adventurer Guide 101

Chapter 17: Don't wear a gown under the sun- Adventurer Guide 101

Pasta was returned to his cell, two guards watching over him. Four more stood out of the Dungeon while over six surveyed the halls above it. He sat on the floor, his hands-free from chains this time. Legs crossed, clasping his arms and tilting his head to the side. The situation had changed completely; he was back to where he was, even the ashes of his last guards were still visible on the floor and the stares from his fellow inmates were less intimidating than it was supposed to be. His guards were a mix of mercenaries and the mansion guards. There was still hope. The guards discussed with themselves.

“How in the world was he able to burn them from the inside? Is he perhaps one who is gifted?”

“Doesn’t look like it. If it was so, the fight between him and Lord Sparrow wouldn’t have ended as quickly as it did”

“I see,” the guard said, scratching his nose and stared at Pasta.

“He must have a deep knowledge about his aura then”

“I believe so. He is definitely no kid. His sword must have been sharpened from the heat of battle, and so have his mind. But a reckless attempt such as that to escape is laughable”

They were not wrong. His plan to leave to the mansion wasn’t one of praise. If Emilia was here, she would have thought of something way better than him and that Little Bobby guy. Mr. Swordsman and the others are currently making preparations to stop the eruption. Focusing on his rescue would be a waste. Pasta clenched his fists. His anticipation of taking part in this battle was shattered just because he wanted to have some meat. He wanted to have some fun. He arrived in the town intending to aid a friend and show his sister his ability to protect others. Bars of steel stood before him, all his plans behind them. Unable to leave, hope gradually dissipates by the second, and his soul is crushed by each heartbeat.

Pasta remembered Mr. Swordsman's words- “You have to go through pain, hardships. To obtain one of the amazing things this world has to offer”

Pasta closed his eyes. Hours later, and he was still in deep thought. His breathing, normal. His legs were still crossed and his eyes were still shut, arms also crossed. The days of his past revealed itself as a lost memory. A fighting pattern, a method once taught to him. He envisioned himself in darkness, his opponent stood before him. Mr. Swordsman stood, holding down his hat, cloak swaying in the imaginary wind. Pasta held tightly to his blade, Naga. Mr. Swordsman's moves were not completely known to him. Only knowledge he has was from the fight at the town’s gate and that lasted for seconds.

Mr. Swordsman moved forward, his speed unnatural. Swinging his sword and cutting down Pasta.

He was too slow. The attack wasn’t seen. No one could see such an attack. No, I’ll go again.

Pasta wounds were healed, and time seemed to be reversed. Mr. Swordsman still stood across him. A few minutes passed. Mr. Swordsman dashed to Pasta, who held up his sword, blocking the initial place that was cut before.

Mr. Swordsman bent his body, cutting Pasta from the knee up and swiftly beheading him. Time reversed again.

Pasta breathed heavily. Mr. Swordsman changed the trajectory of his blade in just a second. Pasta tried again and again. Getting defeated at every turn.

After several unbearable attempts, Mr. Swordsman sprinted to Pasta, swinging his sword in a powerful arc. Pasta laughed out, running towards him as well. He was tired of waiting there. What was he thinking? This was not like him. Waiting there. Wishing to be saved. Losing hope. All that is just useless crap. If he could beat Mr. Swordsman here, then he can have all the meat in the world and no one would have a word to say about it.

Pasta clashed swords with Mr. Swordsman, a smile on his face. He was finally going to win. Just once is enough for him. A single win. Mr. Swordsman pushed him back with a powerful force, destroying his entire line of defense. He effortlessly cut Pasta down. Pasta held on to his smile, thinking. I guess another time wouldn’t hurt.

In reality, Pasta remained on the floor, still smiling. His guards glared at him.

“Is he excited or something?”

“No. He must be going insane”

The door opened and then a guard came in, accompanied by a maid who held two trays holding mugs of beer. He locked the door behind him and walked to the two guards. He held some drinks in his right hand and played cards on the other. His face beamed with joy.

“Aren’t you one of the mansion guards? Why are you here? Anything wrong?”

“Nothing. You all must be exhausted just standing here in this place with poor ventilation,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Where are my manners? Pardon me, I’m Kot. The one in charge of this section of the domain”

Kot was of short stature and muscular build. He was dressed in a simple dark top and trousers. He preferred not to wear armor, as he found it restricted his movement.

“I’ve heard of you. I apologize if I offended you with my questions”

He apologized? Guess they really are some sheep among the mercenaries, Kot thought.

“No need for that. Let’s have a drink and relax while we’re here. But not too much. We don’t want you both getting drunk on the job”

Both guards smiled. Picking their mugs and downing the beer. The other guards outside peeked in. Kot waved his hand to welcome them. They all enjoyed their chilled drinks. Playing the card game to heighten the fun. Kot glared at Pasta and smiled. He wasn’t present for the usual gathering in the Kitchen because of work, but he wishes he was.

“Do you all want to hear some juicy news?” Kot asked, picking up the joker card of clubs. Moving it across his fingers.

“Uh? What news?”

Kot picked up the queen of hearts and moved it across the same fingers with the other card. “A good-looking lady just entered the manor. A real treat to the eye. You don’t want to miss her,” he said, stopping his finger movement. Showcasing both cards to the guards. Their face gleamed with excitement.

*

Emilia felt hot. It was a bad idea. Who would have thought picking a gown would cause so much heat? She had worn countless gowns in the past but hadn’t noticed the unbearable heat that came with it.

With the help of the townsfolk, she was able to find her way to Lord Tony’s manor. The manor was rumored to be the largest in the whole realm, which might be true. It occupied over twelve parcels of land, with a pristine white exterior and decor featuring golden pillars. A beautiful, unknown flower design was engraved at the top. The compound was also pleasing to the eyes, with gardens at each corner and tiled floors forming around a fountain. In the center of the fountain, a child statue stood tall in a powerful stance, wielding a bow from which the water shot out.

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Emilia drew in a deep breath. She knew she had to sneak in and attack them from the inside. What better way to do that than by passing through the front gate with a fake identity - posing as someone working directly under the nobles?

Walking confidently through the gates, her hair danced in rhythm with the wind, and her gown swirled along with it. The nobles won’t be present in the manor, only the guards.

“Hey you, do you have permission here?” the guard asked, looking at the sword strapped to her waist.

“I do,” she said in a confident voice. Her heart was about to burst out after she heard her name.

“What’s your name, miss and which of the Lords do you have an appointment with”

Emilia had finally finished ‘The Beginner guide to Adventuring.’ The chapter on infiltrate and destruction was very much informative. Disguise and confidence are keys. Having an alias goes a long way. When exposed, take a life. She gained extensive knowledge, surpassing the other E-ranks. Those eight hundred pages were worth it.

“Miss your name,” the guard said, visibly annoyed.

“Oh-uh…. I a-am sorry. It’s E- Emilia, a d-direct underling of the nobles. And I w-want to meet L-Lord Tony”

Emilia fell into a pit of despair. It was all for naught. Everything. She gave him everything. But, the book had warned against this and also provided a quick solution. She would have to take a life. Her eyes gleamed with determination. She reached in for her sword.

“Lord Tony has no appointments today. He’s currently out for work. Are you sure you have an appointment with him or are you here for some other lord?”

The nobles were at the manor? Hudson had said they would be out of town. Not all of them are present, though. If she actually was directly under them. She would know which. Two choices were brought before her. According to Hudson’s intel, they were Lord Sparrow and Hack. One was present in the manor and maybe both. If Emilia guessed wrong. She might be arrested as well. Then she and Pasta would have to wait for Tori’s rescue.

Emilia stopped reaching for her sword.

“I am here for Lord- “

“Who’s this?” Little Bobby said, his hands behind him.

“She said she is a direct underling of Lord Tony and his friends”

Little Bobby stared at Emilia. She met his eyes, her hands reaching for her sword. His aura was extremely strong, reminding her of when she first met Mr. Swordsman. Although his presence wasn’t as overpowering, it still spoke of great strength.

Little Bobby saw her hand twitching near her blade. Her aura is similar to his.

“I’ll take it from here, soldier. Leave her to me,” Little Bobby said, brimming with power.

The guard saluted. “Yes sir”

“Come with me,” Little Bobby said to Emilia.

She followed him into the manor. The halls were fewer of workers. In contrast, the present ones eyed Emilia’s crimson outfit in awe of how she was able to pull it off in this heat.

“Are you related to him?” Little Bobby asked, walking forward.

Emilia stayed quiet.

“I can arrest you on the spot or worse, grant your wish by bringing you to one of our lords,” he threatened.

“Which ‘him’ are you referring?”

“The one named after some noodles”

Emilia held her sword. They arrived at a dark part of the manor, where she swiftly swung her sword towards his neck. But, was stopped by a small kitchen knife.

“No need for violence. I’m a friend of him,” he paused. “No, actually I just know him”

Emilia returned her sword back to her sheath. He was a friend, so he said. Getting Pasta back seems to be easier than she anticipated.

“Hey, hey what’s going on here?” Kot said a huge smile on his face. “Who’s this cutie? Hi, I’m Kot. Nice to meet ya”

“He’s the one in charge of overseeing the Dungeons. Pasta included”

Emilia stared at Kot, still silent.

“Bobby, who is she and why is she interested in that guy? Don’t tell me you’re his wife!” Kot said, clapping his cheeks.

“Huh?!” Emilia said, her tone filled with disgust.

“Oh no, I apologize,” Kot said, staring at her. “I get it now. Are you siblings?”

Emilia sighed and asked, “Yes, we are. How did you figure that out?”

Little Bobby leaned against the wall and responded, “Your aura is similar to his. I knew at first glance, but mistakes sometimes happen, so I stayed quiet.”

Emilia moved her hair with her finger. “I didn’t think of that.”

Kot walked closer to Emilia. “So are you single?”

She glared at him, sighed, and ignored him.

Little Bobby intervened, “Let her be, Kot. Let’s hurry this up.”

Emilia turned to Little Bobby. “Hurry what?”

“Kot here is going to rescue your brother,” Little Bobby said.

“And how is he going to do that?”

Kot smiled and revealed a small sachet from his pocket. “They say there are three ways to kill a man: women, money, and drinks. But I would like to add another.” He said, “Sleeping powder, my dear.”

“And that’s for the guards? How do you expect an obvious trick like that to work?”

Kot confidently responded, “Watch me, dear. Don’t underestimate the power of sleeping powders.”

*

“My one hundredth plus attempts and I still haven’t landed a hit,” Pasta wheezed.

Mr. Swordsman ran to him, swinging his sword. Pasta blocked with his blade. He pushed Pasta back and swung again.

Pasta bent over and tried sweeping Mr. Swordsman off his feet. He jumped, avoiding Pasta's legs. In the air, he moved elegantly as he cut off Pasta’s head.

“An afterimage!” Pasta yelled, swinging his blade at Mr. Swordsman's back. It was too late. Mr. Swordsman cannot dodge this strike. Pasta got his first win.

Pasta froze up, his sword inches away from cutting Mr. Swordsman. He felt an omnipotent presence around him, a force pushing him down. Making his heart race with fear. Is this Mr. Swordsman's aura? The same knocking out those guards? No, this is different. A being he had never seen before emerged in the darkness. Mr. Swordsman in this space could only perform the skills and abilities Pasta had witnessed, but he had never seen Mr. Swordsman do this.

The being hid itself in the shadows, but his presence overwhelmed the space. Pasta's head was decapitated again. He was already dead before the strike. Sheer terror had taken his life.

Pasta woke up panting. Sweat dripped down his face. He held his chest. No pain was felt. His head wasn’t on the floor and there were no signs of blood. He was safe. But...

“What is going on?” Pasta said, looking at the bunch of guards sleeping on the floor. Another stood with a maid but he wasn’t wearing any armor.

“Told you it’ll work. The bars are open, but I think he’s busy- “

Emilia ran past him, entered the cell, and clasped her arms around Pasta.

“Big bro!” she cried out, her tears dripping down his shoulders.

Pasta's eyes widened. He formed a smile and patted her head.

“What are you crying for? I’m fine.” He said, still smiling.

Emilia stopped crying and punched him in the face.

Pasta fell on the floor. He got up, touching his cheek. “What was that for?”

“How dare you get captured in a situation like this?” she said, clenching her fist.

Pasta moved his hands, frantically. “Wait, wait I can explain,”

“No excuses!” she yelled, punching him.

Little Bobby and Kot smiled, ignoring the constant screams of the inmates yelling for their release. This is the second time Pasta had been out. They, too, deserved this sort of treatment.

The air current changed. Kot, Little Bobby, and Emilia wielded their weapons. Pasta stood firm and took a stance, his fists out for action.

“My. My oh my. What do we have here? A couple of miscreants are planning a breakout,” Sparrow said. A bird playing on his long hat.

“You all should move along. I’ll handle it,” Little Bobby said, taking a powerful stance with his blade.

Kot walked forward. “I’ll join you, sir. Lord Sparrow is gifted. This won’t be an easy fight”

“All because of that butler,” Sparrow sighed, the noise of the inmates reverberated around the Dungeon. “You foolish lot annoy me. Go to sleep. Aura burst”

All the inmates fell to the floor and stopped moving.

Sparrow looked at them. “Must be difficult living such a loud and unfulfilling life devoid of strength. Rest since you deserve that much. Now to you all”

They all readied their weapons. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“You may pass,” Sparrow said.

Little Bobby glared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you all can leave. My job isn’t to fight you a lot but to hold the fort”

Little Bobby continued glaring at him. He sighed and placed back his sword. “Let’s go!”

They all followed him out. Emilia and Pasta were about to leave.

“Wait,” Sparrow said. He brought out the sword behind him. Handing it to Pasta. “I was right all along. You really are intriguing Pasta the mighty”

Pasta glared at him. The smile on Sparrow’s face sent him chills. He’d never told him about his nickname. Just who is this Sparrow guy?

Sparrow tossed a scroll to Emilia. “The gates are locked at the moment. That scroll will help you escape with the others. I trust you’ll be able to use it”

“H-How do you know my name?” Emilia mumbled.

Pasta held his sword against him.

“Pleasure to meet you both. It’s a shame we can’t talk. Tony is heading to the volcano, you better hurry”

Pasta gritted his teeth and pulled Emilia out of the Dungeon. They caught up to Little Bobby and Kot.

“Hey are you both alright?” Little Bobby asked.

Pasta nodded, “We’re fine. Let’s go meet Hudson, where’s Mary?”

“She’s with Lord Tony. They headed out,” Kot said.