"Oh, hello…you're here. Nice to meet you, Your Highness," a merchant wearing leather armor greets Flare.
After the bickering with Boyd, Flare decided to take a night stroll and browse the market, where Boyd got stabbed. Just like Boyd said, the market was filled with goods and trinkets. Although she didn't even want to think about him at the moment, there were some things she needed repaired or maybe even replaced, like her sword. The sword she is currently using was a gift from Weiss, but that sword is now rusted and chipped. Despite his serious demeanor since they arrived, Weiss grew mad and scolded Flare for not correctly caring for his blade. Why not? He has been using that blade for years, and Flare just broke in months. While browsing, Flare then spots a familiar face amid the merchants.
"Slag! What are you doing here?" Flare asks, a bit surprised.
"Well, I am…a trader of sorts now. I knew that this season was about to start, but I wouldn't have guessed that you decided to come here," Slag answers, scratching his head.
"…If it weren't for that fur-lover oaf, we wouldn't be here. But I also came here by my own choice."
"Ah, you want to become strong, lass?"
Flare just smiles and nods.
"Well, why don't you browse my merchandise? Perhaps there might be some things you can use soon in your journey," Slag invites her to browse his goods.
"You're one shrewd trader, aren't you?" Flare laughs.
"There are more ways besides stealing to get you a barrel brimming with coins. Let's just say it's one of my best qualities…not to scare you, of course," Slag jokes, laughing awkwardly.
Flare seems conflicted by the idea of buying goods from a thief.
"Do not worry, I only steal from those who already have more than enough," Slag justifies his actions.
"…And how do you account for the cost of the items you stole?" Flare questions.
"Well, the secrets to being rich, Your Highness, is the same as the secrets to comedy."
"Comedy?"
"…Timing."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you seen my trinkets?" Slag asks, inviting her again to see his wares.
Seeing his persistence, Flare decides to do as he says and notices something. Despite the abundance of goods, there are tons of traces of goods that are already sold.
"Supply and demand, I would say. As it seems, many people prefer the standard-Cantor-styled swords and Atlis-crafted bows this season. The elves are always masters of bow and crossbow craftsmanship, while human-made swords are light and durable. Spears are rarely used here since most people want to prove their strength, so there's no need to bring one here," Slag explains.
"How'd you get this information?"
"The harbor master keeps a log book in his quarters. Based on the ship registration in the log book, I can only guess what passengers arrived, and many Humans are fighting this season. Sylphs prefer war axes, while Demons prefer maces. Dragon-kin…I don't know, never seen one here."
"…So, I reached out to my contacts, stole from others, dug up from my stashes, and decided to supply here. If I may, I've made serious coin here and now," Slag ends his explanation.
"That's…surprisingly brilliant, Slag," Flare compliments, amazed by his knowledge.
Slag puffs his chest out and persuades Flare to browse his wares again. He even provides a 20% discount to Flare, not knowing that Flare has little money. Flare then tells him repeatedly that she is pretty dry on the coin until…she spots something that catches her eye.
"What's this blade?" Flare asks, pointing at a bizarre-looking twin blade.
"Oh, this. Nah, it's not good. Supposedly, it was a weapon generally used back when the humans were at war with the elves," Slag states.
"The First Contact War?"
"…That's the name? I'm sorry, miss. I'm not very good at reading history…" Slag scratches his head.
Flare touches the weapon, holding it at the hilt, connecting the two blades.
"It is a Ploy Weapon. It was made by the elves when they tried to mimic human blades. I heard they are multiple of these weapons before…well, the Elves would just now put them at a museum."
"What's the difference?"
"Ploy Weapons are weapons that can be transformed into alternate forms, giving the user more variety in their methods of attacking. The one you are holding is a combination of the Eastern-style blade and…some kind of rapier, I'm not sure."
"Eastern-edged swords are different than the standard Cantor-style swords. While Cantor-style swords are double-edged, the Eastern swords are curved and single."
"I believe this Ploy Weapon's name is…Ikazuchi."
Slag suddenly stops talking and changes the topic entirely.
"What is your current fighting style, Your Highness?" Slag politely asks.
"…Style?" Flare blurts.
"She would normally use a shield in one hand and a sword in the other," a voice came behind her, which turned out to be Weiss.
"A shield?" Slag gasps, surprised.
Flare just looked away when Weiss got close, even taking her distance.
"…You don't have to follow me around," Flare utters.
"Don't flatter yourself, and I was not following you, you idiot captain. My parrying dagger is chipped. I'm currently finding a new one," Weiss debunks Flare.
"Still…a shield?" Slag asks Flare again.
"Why?"
"Well, with all due respect, Your Highness, shields offer greater protection, but it takes a lot of strength to even be used in a straight-out fight. The arm strength used to carry the shield will undoubtedly become sore after your first match, which will take a toll as you press forward in your matches…"
"Are you saying that I am not strong enough?" Flare groans, looking at Slag.
"…Everyone is strong in their own right. Men generally use shields because of their reach and strength. Women generally have more flexibility than men in fighting but not enough strength to fight men with brute force. We are inherently different, so we must exploit our strengths and use them," Slag lectures Flare for some reason.
Weiss is just watching them, with an amazed look on his face.
"Are you saying I shouldn't use a shield?" Flare asks.
"…It is…not recommended, but if you are okay with it, then that's your choice."
"What would you suggest?"
"If I were you, I'd suggest using Eastern blades for their capability of delivering fast and powerful slashing attacks. However, Eastern blades need time to be used since they have their own stances and techniques, unlike the Cantor-styled broadswords," Slag gave his opinion.
"But then the Ikazuchi…" the thief suddenly hums.
"…I don't know anyone who knows how to wield Eastern…" Flare responds.
Before she could finish, Weiss intervened.
"Uncle Boyd knows how. He can teach you if you want," he states.
Flare remains silent.
"I'll return in a few days, Slag," Flare smiles.
Weiss then asks Slag for any parrying daggers, to which the thief displays dozens of them stored inside a chest. One of them has a hilt made from high-quality leather, which ended up in Weiss's hands.
"You're one shrewd trader, aren't you, Slag?" Weiss laughs, patting the thief.
"…Not shrewd enough to get the Princess to buy one of my goods, though. That long explanation turns out to be a waste of time, but I hope she'll return before the end of this season," Slag whispers to Weiss, and the two of them laugh at each other.
…..
"You know, you don't have to follow me around. I know my way back," Flare quips, looking at Weiss.
"You do remember that you haven't registered yet for a cottage?" Weiss responds, to which Flare stopped.
"…"
She had totally forgotten about it. After all those fights, she knows she is qualified for the top 64 since she won all her matches.
"…Huh…I knew it…" Weiss sighs before jingling a set of keys in his hands.
"Is that…?"
"Yes, the key to our cottage, but don't expect the two of us to land the best spot inside. Why? Because your bitching and whining this afternoon caused that, but that can't be helped," Weiss rudely slams his thoughts directly into Flare.
They keep their distance, even though they are walking side by side.
"You know, if you are going to try and justify how Boyd just smacked a little girl and threatened to kill her after killing her father, you can forget…" Flare spoke.
"I'm not," Weiss interrupts.
His answer surprised Flare. She stops for a second, and moments after, Weiss does too. The two of them stopped in the middle of the harbor.
"…Because you only see things, but you do not observe," he adds, irritating Flare.
She had a disappointed look on her face before turning to look at him.
"What does that even supposed to mean?" Flare scoffs.
"It's as I said. I already told you what we are walking into months ago, and if you want in, don't a bitch about it!" Weiss retorts.
"So, that's how it is now. No, captain, captain?" Flare responds.
"I am speaking to you now! Not as a knight, not as your only knight, but now…now I speak to you as a friend, Your Highness, even if you don't consider me as one," Weiss nags at Flare.
The two of them remained silent for a while.
"Do you believe in the phrase, 'Actions speak louder than words.'?"
"How does that correlate to…?"
"If Boyd would've really wanted to kill the little girl, he would have already done it. He would've smashed your head to a wall even when you came from his blind spot and were already inside his range. You don't think he can't kill someone? Or, maybe you think he has a conscience and a heart?" Weiss explains.
"Why are you…?"
"Why would he give 1000 coins to a little girl to be shipped away, even though the ticket cost is only around 30? You ever think of that?" he adds.
"…"
Weiss continues walking, and Flare follows him.
"It doesn't mean what he did is right! There can be other…" Flare tries to comment on Weiss's points.
"Have you spoken with Marcia, I mean?" Weiss stops her from talking.
"N-No…"
"Her mother left her and her father, Aurelio, one day. She never saw her when she was about 4 years old. No quarrel, no…nagging, she just vanished. The three of them used to live in a fishing hamlet. Dad catches the fish, and Mom sells the fish."
"When mom went missing, dad had to work the two jobs alone because she was too young. According to her, during the war, there was suddenly an ambush at the hamlet…and everyone died. She survives because she was out catching prawns and returned to see Hamlet set ablaze, bodies everywhere," Weiss tells Flare.
"After going through all that, I understand why she'd want to kill Uncle Boyd. She'd lost everything and everyone she knew."
"I remember watching her cry when I left her at the dock when she was telling me this story," Weiss mumbles.
"I understand why she wants to kill that old man, but you can't blame him either. Maybe that was all an unfortunate accident like he said. An unfortunate accident that happened to protect Cantor at that time."
"I don't have a problem with him calling it an unfortunate accident," Flare states after staying silent for some time.
"…So, what is it?"
"I have a problem with it all. It's not that Boyd doesn't remember; maybe it's just something he wants to forget about," she proclaims.
"…There's no point in digging up the past now for revenge. Marcia will suffer a lot more, and we must stop her. Not to save Boyd, but to save her," Flare adds.
"You needn't worry, Captain," Weiss assures her, adding an honorific.
"Why?"
"It's fine. I am sure that Uncle Boyd knows. I can tell it after all our time journeying together. As I said, don't you find it odd?"
"The old man doesn't hesitate to cut down women, children, and the elderly if they're after his life. Like a demon, even I still have problems with killing children…"
"…But you can do it anyway, don't you?" Flare asks, still irritated.
"Not as…quick as him, but I can."
"…Back to the point, the man has no problem with killing them, yet he didn't even try to catch her, much less kill her and leave us with large amounts of coin for her."
"He remembers. He doesn't want to forget what happened," Weiss explains to Flare.
"That old bastard is probably…"
Weiss just shakes his head and stops.
"Anyway, this is our cottage," Weiss introduces Flare with his left arm wide open, revealing the cottage.
From the outside, the cottage looks impressive. It was built with bricks and wood and painted with pure white on the walls and dark brown on the wooden parts. Small, rounded windows add to the overall style of the cottage and have been added to the building in a symmetrical pattern. A chimney is at the side, and smoke is coming out from the top. The roof is low, slanted to one side, and covered by wheat straws. Overall, the architecture is quite lovely. Weiss opens the door and quickly introduces Flare to their housemates, who turn out to be…
"…Oh, look what the night finally brought us," a red-haired woman teases while reading a tome.
"Oh-oh, I knew you could do it, Big Bro!" a little kid cheers Weiss from his bedroom door.
Flare just stands there awkwardly.
"Meet Solaris and Jojo…"
* * * * *
On the far north side of the island, away from the contenders who came to the island for their match, is the beach. Unlike the beach at the harbor, which looks brown, the beach on this side of the island is crystal white. The soft sand can make anyone feel happy just by laying their back on it while cloud gazing at the sky. It is located after the limitless and primal forest, filled with bushes, coconut trees, and other giant trees. The sun is setting, and the sky is orange, but the man sitting on the soft sand does not intend to move after spending hours gazing at the sea. The fully armored man just sat there as if meditating to further elevate his consciousness. However, his meditation was interrupted when he heard the sound of twigs snapping from the forest behind him.
"Hmm…Mmm…"
"Ah…"
"So, you're the ones who sent the little girl."
"It seems your reasons must be massive, seeing that you must really hate me so much," Boyd states without looking behind.
After the monologue, snapping twigs increased until two dozen armed thugs appeared behind the bushes. Most are well-armed and mean-looking, and a distressed Marcia is in the middle of the enormous crowd.
"All these men gathering here on such a pristine day for revenge?"
"You've all for the spirit. They must have loved your old man very much, little Marcie?" Boyd asks the little girl.
Marcie, for some reason, turned puzzled when she heard that name. Somehow, it felt like she had heard it before.
"…Or at least they must've really hated me," he finishes.
The old man turns around to face the thugs and looks at Marcia. At the second when Marcia looks like she wants to say something,
"Don't move!" a thug threatens Boyd with a blade held by Marcia's neck, signaling her to remain quiet.
"If you don't want to take the daughter's life after taking the father's."
"Isn't that right, Mr. Boyd the murderer?" the thug, who seems to be the operation's leader.
Without even giving the slightest resistance, despite being beaten and dragged against his will, Boyd silently complies with the thugs' demands. The two of them were brought and tied inside a cave not far from the beach.
"Liar, you tricked me! You said to me that you would help me avenge my father!" Marcia yells at the thug leader.
"You…you promised to help me kill this man!" she adds.
"You were using me?"
Boyd just silently observes the quarrel.
"Oh? You don't have to make it sound so bad, but…yeah, we lied. However, weren't you the one to break our promise first?" the leader smirks.
"You were supposed to approach the man and bait him to draw him out. Yet, you decided to move independently and created this huge mess. My new boss will have my head if I don't have a proper explanation," the thug reminds her of his plan.
"This man is our prey. He killed our old boss, Sir Talbot, and our group has been in disarray ever since. You aren't allowed to act on your own. Just be grateful that we've decided to use you as a tool to kill the boy."
"Revenge will still be yours. Your dead father must've been happy for you."
"My, my, such a foolish daughter, just like her stupid father. Dying while being manipulated by others."
"That is the fate shared by you and your father."
There was a gasp of disbelief coming from Marcia.
Boyd still chooses to observe.
"Manipulated...?"
"Father was…?"
"Do you know something about father?" Marcia shouts, confused.
"Such a pitiful child. Shall I tell you? Or shouldn't I?"
Marcia grits her teeth together. Boyd could practically hear the sound of her teeth grinding each other.
"Should I tell you how your attempt to avenge your father is misguided?" the thug smirks.
"How your father isn't worthy of being avenged by his beloved daughter?"
"What…W-What are you talking about? I don't understand…" Marcia mumbles in disbelief.
"You see…Your father, Aurelio…"
However, before the thug leader could say anything, another thug came running and whispered something in his ear. Whatever the reason, the leader clicked his tongue when he heard the news. When he turned around to further spilling the truth about Aurelio's death, Marcia was already knocked out cold. Boyd just sat there next to her, still tied up.
"W-W-Wha…?" the leader mutters.
"I'm sorry, but the lady is asleep. Staying up late is bad for your beauty, especially at her age," Boyd whistles, playing dumb.
"Tch…!"
"You, check his bindings and knock his head a few times to make sure he is compliant!" the leader orders a thug before walking away.
Boyd observes the thug leader while the thug decides to tie his bindings tighter and hits his head with a club multiple times. Because of this, the helmet is slightly dented inward, but the old man hasn't passed out yet. He continues observing the leader pushing his way through the crowd.
Then, he saw a glimpse of another man with messy brown hair waiting behind the crowd. The man seemed agitated about something, but Boyd was not sure since the thug decided to keep hitting his head a few more times.
The dent was further inward that the club actually hit Boyd's left side of his face. He could hear his skull cracking and blood oozing between his left eye.
"Oi…that's enough, leave some for the rest of us, mate!" a thug from inside the crowd laughs.
The other thugs also laughed, including the one hitting Boyd, until…
"Ugh…!"
The sound of blades piercing through someone's body completely turns the crowd silent. Boyd slowly opens his right eye, trying to observe what is happening, until he sees the thug that was beating him floating in front of him. The thug is gurgling with blood that comes out through his mouth. Five blades were impaled through his heart, but something was weirder. Behind the body, Boyd could see the man with messy hair's arm extending from the back of the crowd through the thug. Instantly, when he put two and two together, the man's arm contracts back to normal, with a beating heart in his hand. The thug's lifeless body crashes to the ground, dead.
"…I distinctly remember saying, over and over again…don't screw this up. Make it clean and quiet," the man said, clasping his hands together.
"Yes, clean and quiet. Not loud and clear."
The thug leader remains silent.
"I am very particular with my words, gutter rat."
"Clean…Clear…"
"QUIET…LOUD…!" the man groans, clasping his right hand into a fist.
"Do those words sound the same?" he asks.
"It got out of control," the leader mutters.
The man gently puts his hand on the leader's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" the man asks in an eccentric tone.
"It got out of control, Mr. Alward," the leader spoke, slightly clearer than before.
"…Got out of control, huh?"
Alward grips the leader's shoulder tighter.
"I hate it when things get out of control…"
Instantly, Alward pulls the man and stabs his throat using his…hands. His fingers turned into blades before he stabs the man's throat repeatedly. Blood gushes out from the man's sliced throat, but Alward just kept on stabbing him while being watched by every thug. Some subconsciously took a few steps backward, uncomfortable by the sound of sloshing and gushing blood. Looks like the scene was too gruesome for them.
"You had only one job, and you couldn't freaking do that!" the man snapped, still stabbing.
After stabbing the man at least 15 times and completely mangling his head from his body, Alward just casually sits on top of the leader's lifeless corpse.
"Now, I get blood on my shoes, damn it! Who's going to pay for this!" Alward rages.
At that moment, when all eyes turned away from him, his eyes met with Boyd, who had been silently observing him the entire time.
"…"
He suddenly sighs with relief.
"At least there's a silver lining…"
"You didn't completely fuck it up," he smirks.