The receptionist at The Sword Saint’s Perch had mentioned two major sightseeing spots in the Asterion Sword Kingdom. We were currently visiting the first one.
The landmark was situated in the very heart of the city. Graymond and I flanked Neneva to shield her from the press of the crowd as she hurried down the main thoroughfare, clearly enjoying the bustle.
"Wow, there are so many men with long hair here! That guy just now was the same!"
Neneva spoke in a voice that was far too loud as she watched the men passing us by.
"Neneva... don't talk about people's appearances so loudly. It’s rude."
"I’ve got it! Oh, look! Another one with long hair!"
It was hopeless. She didn’t understand the concept of discretion at all. I glanced back at Graymond, wondering if he could do something, but he looked like a man who had long since surrendered to the inevitable.
Come to think of it, she had been blunt about my own appearance from the moment we met. It was simply a habit of hers. I had no choice but to keep moving, praying her commentary wouldn’t spark a confrontation.
As I navigated the streets with a lingering sense of anxiety, our destination finally loomed into view.
"It’s huge! It’s gargantuan! It’s totally off the charts!" Neneva cried out.
This time, I couldn't blame her for the outburst. Something truly massive and beyond all reasonable scale had entered our field of vision.
This was sightseeing spot number one: the Statue of the Sword Saint Asterion. It stood as tall as twenty grown men stacked head-to-toe.
The statue of the legendary hero was depicted with a bare torso, his right hand thrusting a sword toward the heavens.
"Even Asterion has long hair. Maybe the men in this country grow theirs out because they want to be just like him!?"
Neneva pointed at the statue, then touched a hand to her mouth and shot me a knowing look, as if to ask, Did I just solve a great mystery?
"...Yeah. You might be onto something there."
"Right? I knew it!"
In all likelihood, she was right. I suspected many of the Martial Practitioners here grew their hair long to emulate the man who had founded their nation.
Around the base of the monument, I saw knights offering sharp salutes to the statue, tourists like us, and several Portrait Artists looking to capitalize on the foot traffic.
Neneva seemed intrigued; she was staring intently at a middle-aged artist nearby.
The man had his samples lined up on the pavement. "How about a portrait, young lady?" he called out. Each sample featured the Statue of the Sword Saint Asterion in the background. It certainly made for a fine memento.
Neneva turned and looked at me expectantly. Since I was the one carrying the purse, she needed my approval.
"Do you want one?" I asked.
"I’m not particularly interested myself... but I wonder how the world would view such a thing...?"
"Just be honest and say you want it!"
"I want it! I want it! I want it!"
The artist let out a hearty laugh. "I’ll give you a discount since you’re such a lively one. What do you say?"
"Please, go ahead," I said, handing over the coins.
Once the payment was settled, the artist began to work. He glanced at Neneva’s face, his brush—dipped in vibrant paints—gliding across the paper with practiced ease.
Neneva held a somewhat stiff, unnatural smile as she waited for the work to be completed. She waited... and waited.
"There we go. All finished."
He presented a painting of a silver-haired, red-eyed beauty with the towering statue in the background. He had rendered her looking slightly more mature than she actually was, but he had captured her likeness perfectly. He was a true professional.
When Neneva took the portrait, her eyes widened.
"...She looks like Mama," she whispered.
"The Young Lady bears a striking resemblance to her mother, after all," Graymond added softly.
Neneva nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the painting.
"It’s like Mama came on a trip to the Asterion Sword Kingdom with us..."
"I am certain your mother is watching over you from right by your side. So, in a way, you aren't wrong," Graymond said.
"...Yeah."
We sat on a bench near the statue until the paint was dry, then set off for the next destination.
Colorful tents were stretched across the entire cobblestone plaza, and the air was thick with the shouts of merchants vying for customers.
This was the second sightseeing spot: the Open-air Market.
Food stalls lined the entrance, and the mingling scents of pungent spices, grilled meat, and sweet fruit tickled the nose.
"Let’s go, hurry!"
Caught up in the festival-like atmosphere, Neneva’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She looked ready to sprint into the fray.
"Don't go running off. You'll get lost."
"I'm not a child! How rude!"
She huffed in mock indignation. I dismissed her protest with a "Yeah, yeah" and led her into the market. Graymond followed quietly in our wake.
The market was teeming with people; I could feel the heat radiating from the crowd every time our shoulders brushed against someone.
Past the food stalls, the wares became incredibly diverse. Every shop offered something different, making the walk fascinating. There were book sellers, merchants dealing in Monster materials, and shops dedicated to Magic Tools.
Naturally, being the Asterion Sword Kingdom, weaponry was the most common commodity.
"My eyes are starting to fail me..." Graymond muttered, rubbing the corners of his eyes.
He wasn't one for complaining, but the sheer volume of visual information in the crowded market was likely exhausting for a man of his years.
Neneva, however, was undeterred. She would squeal with delight every time she spotted something unusual, only to pout when I told her, "You don't need that. What would you even use it for?" We repeated this cycle several times.
"...Oh."
Neneva finally stopped in front of a modest stall—nothing more than a straw mat spread over the cobblestones. It had no tent to provide shade, leaving its wares exposed to the direct sun.
The shopkeeper was a young boy, likely around Neneva’s age. He was probably watching the shop on his parents' behalf.
Neneva knelt down to examine the small items on the mat. They were all crafted from a silver-colored metal—mostly ornaments like brooches and necklaces.
"W-welcome..." the boy said, sounding incredibly nervous. He clearly wasn't used to dealing with customers.
"What kind of flower is the motif on this bracelet?" Neneva asked, pointing to a piece with an engraved floral design.
"T-that’s Wind-song Grass."
"I knew it!" Neneva exclaimed. She stood up, clutching the bracelet, and turned to show it to me. "The Wind-song Grass... this was Mama’s favorite flower!"
Her eyes were brimming with hope.
"Do you want it?"
"I really do!"
The portrait from earlier was clearly still on her mind. Today was a day for remembering her mother.
"Let me see that for a second."
I took the bracelet and checked the price tag. It was expensive—too expensive for a simple iron bracelet. Curious about the material, I discreetly activated [Simple Appraisal].
- Alloy Bracelet
"What metal is this made of?" I asked.
"I-it’s a Silver Bracelet... I made it myself," the boy stammered.
A lie. He was definitely lying.
"Is something wrong, Walt?" Neneva asked.
For a moment, I considered telling her it was a fake. But Neneva didn't want a "silver" bracelet; she wanted a "Wind-song Grass" bracelet. The purity of the metal was irrelevant to her.
"No, I just thought it was a bit over budget. Could you do any better on the price?"
When I pushed for a negotiation, the boy became visibly flustered. He was clearly selling it as silver despite knowing better.
"Maybe a little..."
"I appreciate it."
In the end, I bought the "Wind-song Grass" bracelet for a price slightly higher than its actual market value. Neneva was delighted, immediately sliding it onto her left wrist.
"All right, I'm starving! Let's find a stall and get something to eat!"
"Sounds like a plan."
We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon wandering the Open-air Market.
Our primary mission was still to find Bradley, but I realized that days like this were necessary, too. Watching Neneva happily stroke her new bracelet, I knew I’d made the right call.