"Everyone wants to be a hero. But sometimes, the ones who move the world are the ones who trip a lot… and the sword that laughs at them."
They soon arrived at the central square.
Off-key bards leaned against the walls, clay cups stretched out — begging more for recognition than for coins. A dwarf slept face-down in a barrel, his cavernous snoring making the bricks around him tremble. There was no festival, but chaos seemed to celebrate itself.
Kael stepped around the barrel. The dwarf slept with a smile, drooling on his own fist.
"He's happy," Kael murmured.
"Enviable. His dream's probably more interesting than your life," Tharon replied.
Kael kept walking through the square, sun on his back, sweat starting to weigh.
"…And the letter?" he murmured suddenly.
Tharon took his time, like he was biting the question before answering.
"A letter no one wants to deliver, to a place no one knows. Sounds like a flawless plan to get our heads chopped off. Literally."
"But Kurot said it was important."
"Kurot said a lot of things. All with that look — like he just wants to see how far the rat runs before the trap snaps."
"So why didn't we refuse?"
"Because you're stupid. And I'm stuck with you."
Kael snorted.
"Thanks for the reminder."
They walked down a street of uneven cobblestones, their steps sinking into doubt, the letter in his pocket, and the destination more and more crumpled in a horizon that refused to say where it led.
Kael stopped in front of the bards, eyes fixed on the pathetic scene: Three men in clothes more torn than artistic, singing something that was half music, half apology to the human ear. A clay cup sat at their feet, empty — as if even poverty had given up on them.
"…Do they get coins or just rocks?" Kael murmured, scratching his neck.
Tharon buzzed in the sheath, a sharp jingle of laughter:
"If you throw a rock, at least the rhythm might improve."
Kael sighed, trying to steer his mind elsewhere.
"And about the letter?" he whispered, gaze lost. "There's something weird about it. I don't know… I feel like someone's been watching me since I picked it up."
Tharon went silent for a second — which was almost a miracle.
"You're not wrong, idiot." His voice dropped, almost cutting. "I feel it too. Like a gaze just waiting for you to blink so it can slit your throat."
Kael swallowed hard and looked around. The noise of the square suddenly felt muffled, distant. Every shadow stretched by the sun looked like a finger pointing at him.
"I think we should get out of here."
"Finally, a decent idea. Let's go before you get stabbed by a badly sung song."
Kael picked up the pace, crossing the square and turning into smaller streets, looking for a shortcut that didn't seem to lead anywhere. The noise of people faded. The smell of food and sweat gave way to cold, still air.
Then he noticed.
Too quiet.
The alley ahead had no exit. And before Kael could react, three figures emerged from the shadows, closing the path behind him. None of them looked big. None of them looked hesitant.
Tharon, with that voice soaked in irony:
"Well, look at that. Three poorly dressed rats ready to shove you in a hole. You gonna do something, or just scream until someone brings flowers to your grave?"
Kael stepped back, hands sweating on Tharon's hilt.
"I… I don't know who they are. Or what they want."
"Big deal, Kael! A sword's not a crystal ball. If you don't swing it, this'll be a clown show with no audience."
Kael took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second — and attacked. Two blind strikes, so clumsy they looked more like someone slicing air than fighting. The men dodged like dancers. Fast. Confident.
"Brilliant! Shadow swordsman!" Tharon shouted, sarcastic. "The Sunray Guild should see you now. They'd cry with pride."
Kael growled, annoyed.
"Shut up, Tharon!"
One of the men grabbed Kael's arms, another swept his legs, and in seconds he was tied up, thrown to the ground like a useless sack.
"Wonderful." Tharon still buzzed, sharp with mockery. "The swordsman's honor died with those pathetic swings. If you're gonna embarrass yourself, at least strike a pose."
Kael just stared at the ground.
"You're a great help, you know?"
"I'm a sword, not a babysitter!"
Before Kael could reply, the men dragged him to an old cart. The wood groaned like it already knew the crime it was carrying. They threw Kael inside, slammed the door shut, and the cart began to move — leaving behind the distant sounds of the city.
"Great," Tharon grumbled. "From shadow swordsman to kidnapper cargo. What's next? Want me to write a song about your humiliation?"
"Please, shut up."
"Not even if you paid me."
The cart rattled, and Kael sank into the darkness of the compartment, trying to decide whether he was more angry at the kidnappers… or at being trapped with Tharon's sharp tongue.
The cart jolted like it was trying to dismantle the world beneath it. Every bump in the road ripped a grunt from Kael.
"If this isn't torture, I don't know what is…" he muttered, his head hitting the cart's ceiling.
Tharon buzzed, a jingle of pure irony. "Torture? This is a holiday. I call it an all-inclusive ride for idiots."
Kael took a deep breath. "All-inclusive? Where do you even get these words?"
"Same place you get courage… oh wait, you don't."
Kael looked up at the ceiling like he was trying to ask the gods for help. Nothing. Just dust falling.
"I can't believe this. I got kidnapped. By three lunatics dressed like beggars. And the only thing I get to hear is your venomous voice."
"Wrong. You got kidnapped, humiliated, and tied up. That's a full combo of incompetence, Kael. A true artist of failure."
"Shut up."
Outside, one of the kidnappers let out a short, nervous laugh.
"Hey, you two in there… can you keep it down?"
Tharon buzzed louder, mocking. "Why don't you come in here? Let's see if you last five minutes listening to Kael sigh like a lost cow."
Kael's eyes widened. "Don't provoke them! We're kidnapped, remember?!"
"And what are they gonna do? Kill us? Big deal. I'd rather that than hear your spineless whining."
"I'm not spineless!" Kael snapped.
"Yeah, you are. Spine made of jelly. I bet if they untied you, you'd collapse on your own."
Outside, another kidnapper groaned.
"I'm telling you, boss, this sword won't shut up!"
"How the hell is a sword talking?!" the third one shouted, already at his limit.
"Because it's still better than listening to you three talk to each other!" Tharon fired back, buzzing like he was spitting metal.
Kael kicked the cart wall.
"Tharon! Do you want to die?!"
"I want dignity. Something you dropped back there along with your honor."
"What honor?!"
"Exactly."
The cart took a sharp turn. Kael nearly toppled over. One of the kidnappers banged on the side.
"Look, if you two don't shut up, I'm opening this cart and—"
"And what? Gonna scold a sword? Gonna hit me with what, your dust-covered hand?" Tharon interrupted.
"I'LL SMASH THIS DAMN THING!" the kidnapper roared.
"And I'll laugh," Tharon replied.
Kael buried his head in his hands.
"I can't take this anymore…"
Minutes dragged on. The cart kept rattling. But the silence didn't last.
"Hey, Kael…"
"Don't start."
"You know what's funny? Not even bandits respect you. They only grabbed you because they needed dead weight in the cart."
Kael sighed, staring at the ground. "I'm gonna cry."
Outside, the sound of someone dropping the reins echoed. "ENOUGH!" — the leader's voice sliced through the air. The cart came to a jarring stop.
Kael lifted his head. "What… what's happening?"
The back door flew open. The leader stood there — sweaty, red-faced, trembling with rage. "Out. Now."
Kael blinked, confused. "Out? But aren't you going to—"
"We're not doing anything!" the man roared. "I'd rather sleep cuddled up with a troll than listen to that sword for five more minutes!"
Tharon let out a metallic laugh. "Knew I had a talent for psychological torture."
Kael was shoved out, landing face-first in the dusty road. Tharon clinked in his sheath with smug satisfaction. "See? Not even criminals want to carry your face around."
The cart rolled away, creaking, kicking up dust, while the kidnappers cursed behind their makeshift steering reins. Kael sat on the road, trying to process.
"…Did that really happen?"
"It did. And congrats, Kael. You've achieved the greatest feat of your life: being rejected by kidnappers."
Kael stared at the fading dust on the horizon, mouth half open, like he was hoping it was all just a bad dream. It wasn't. The silence of nowhere confirmed it.
"…We… just got… abandoned?" he murmured.
Tharon buzzed, nearly laughing. "Congrats, Kael. Not even kidnappers want you. That's a level of rejection I've never seen before."
Kael huffed, tugging at the ropes still tied around his wrists. "Damn… I'm still tied up."
"And what were you expecting? A magic pigeon to come rescue you?"
Kael crawled over, grabbed Tharon with effort, and started rubbing the ropes against the blade. "If you could cut on your own, that'd help a lot."
"I cut flesh, not failed pride. And these ropes look sturdier than your courage."
Kael stopped, panting, staring at the sword. "You don't shut up for even a second, do you?"
"If I shut up, someone would have to speak for you — and no one deserves that."
With a bit more force, Kael finally managed to cut the ropes, feeling his wrists burn. "There. Free."
"Free from ropes, not from your own stupidity."
Kael stood up, turning his head around. The landscape… was just dust, stone, and a few crooked trees with branches that looked like hands begging for help. No roads. No clear signs.
"…Now what?" Kael murmured, brow furrowed. "Do we go back the way the cart came? Or follow where it was headed?"
"Doesn't matter. You'll get lost either way."
"Not helping."
Tharon let out a sarcastic jingle. "I said from the start: this was going to go wrong. But who listens to the sword? No, let's trust the 'shadow swordsman' who gets beat up by beggars."
Kael clenched his fists. "If you keep going, I'll throw you down a well."
"Oh, great plan. That way you can die alone and lost."
Kael turned again, trying to spot any sign of civilization. Nothing. Not even smoke on the horizon.
"…Why were we kidnapped, anyway?"
"You think I know? Maybe they mistook you for someone important. Unlikely, but who knows."
"And why dump us in the middle of nowhere?"
"Because listening to us is worth less than gold."
Kael sighed, letting his body fall onto the hard ground. "I hate my life."
"And I hate sharing it with you. We're even."
For a few seconds, only the wind replied. Kael looked up at the sky, the sun burning through his patience. Then, he exploded:
"WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!"
His voice echoed, lost in the void. No echo answered. Not even fate cared.
Kael sat on the dry earth, shoulders slumped, the crystal and the letter weighing like a thousand stones in his pocket. Tharon buzzed in the sheath, like iron laughing.
"Lost, aimless, and with the intelligence of a door… this is going to be fun."
Kael closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he wanted silence. But silence never came. Not with him. Not with her — the sword.
And so they remained: A hopeless warrior and an irritating blade that never shuts up, heading off with no idea where to go.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the universe… Something began to stir. Something that, maybe, not even they could mess up.
"So… what's the plan, hero?"
"I don't know. I just know I'm going to regret it."
End of Volume I.