Annoying drunks are a universal constant, regardless of the world.
In this one, adventurers unfortunately tend to be the most prominent offenders. Unlike knights, who serve as public officials, adventurers are a private-sector crowd and a real mixed bag—which is to say, they range from the well-behaved to the absolute worst. Given the nature of a job where they never know when or where they might lose their lives, many seem driven to drown themselves in booze at the end of the day to find some form of release. Inevitably, that leads to some people going overboard and causing trouble for everyone around them.
As the weekend was drawing to a close and dusk began to settle, we were returning from the Commercial District to the Holy Court District. Just near the entrance, we found a strange crowd gathered in front of a tavern. I stopped along with my Master to see what the commotion was about, peering in from the edge of the throng.
"Hey, ma'am, what do you think you're doing?! What's the big idea, throwing out a paying customer?!"
"Shut up, you drunken bastard! Someone who causes trouble in my shop isn't a customer at all!"
It looked like a typical scene: a nuisance who had behaved shamelessly while drunk was being forcibly evicted. Moreover, the man's attire, visible through the gaps in the crowd, revealed him to be a fellow professional—an adventurer. Beside me, my Master let out a blatant sigh.
"Truly, to be consumed by drink is a wretched sight... It is bothersome to the extreme."
"...You're right."
I should note that while she said this, my Master’s own drinking habits were quite poor. To begin with, she had an incredibly low tolerance. A few sips made her face flush; half a cup, and she would become completely wasted, losing every shred of her usual dignity and clinging to us in a state that was pure, childish regression.
Fortunately, my Master had the palate of a child and generally wouldn't touch alcohol, claiming it tasted awful. However, there were cases where she had a truly bad day or felt particularly frustrated, leading her to go on a rampage of spiteful drinking while shouting, "I can't take this anymore!" For example, recently, about four months ago—no, for the sake of her honor, I should stop there.
More importantly, there was the commotion in front of us. Even in the Holy City, which boasted world-class public safety, minor scuffles like this were a daily occurrence. The crowd was used to it; some watched with idle curiosity, while others looked annoyed and took detours to avoid getting caught up in the mess. Just as I was considering doing the same, a roar went up.
"Hey! How much money do you think I drop in here on a regular basis?!"
"Hah! Don't get cocky, you pathetic loser! You can only afford the cheap swill anyway! Go fix that shitty drinking habit of yours before you even think about coming back!"
The landlady's shout and the slamming of the tavern door resonated like claps of thunder.
It seemed the argument had ended in her complete victory. A section of the crowd burst out laughing.
"Hey, Ramsey! You're at it again?!"
"Shut up!!"
Ramsey... The name sounded vaguely familiar. Regardless, the fact that people were laughing and saying "again" suggested he was a habitual offender. As a fellow man, I decided then and there that I never wanted to grow old in such an uncool way.
The man's harsh clicking of his tongue reached my ears.
"Tch... I just wanted that pretty girl to pour me a drink."
No, that's just straight-up harassment.
The landlady was actually quite kind to settle for just throwing him out. If he had tried that same rowdiness at Le Bouquet, Roze would have delivered a lightning-fast hand-blade strike and knocked him unconscious in a single blow. I recalled her once instantly taking down an A-rank adventurer from the Royal Capital for exactly that kind of behavior.
"Don't go staring at people! I'm not some sideshow, get lost!"
The man was clearly in a foul mood. As the crowd hurriedly parted, he approached us with a heavy, disgruntled stride.
Of course, he was coming right toward us. I pulled my Master’s hand to clear the path immediately, but—
"—Ah? Well, well. If it isn't... Wolka?"
It seemed he knew me. As soon as the man—Ramsey—noticed me, he smirked with pure malice.
"Well, well, well, Wolka... I've heard the rumors. Heh, so you really did lose your right eye and left leg. Oh, how pitiful. To think a promising A-rank adventurer would end up like this!"
Even though I had moved out of his way, he deliberately changed course to close the distance. My Master immediately stepped forward, glaring at Ramsey with a combative attitude, her "Master" persona in full effect.
"You there."
"Huh?"
Ramsey looked back at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Back off. I have no business with women."
"Wait, Master. Stop, stop."
I hurriedly intervened because she had already begun constructing a magic formula. She was far too merciless. He was being unpleasant, but it hadn't reached the level of a direct insult yet; I needed to handle this with a more mature response first.
"Wolka, do not bother with such a fellow!"
"Even so, using magic right away is going too far..."
I calmed her down and pulled her back, facing Ramsey myself. Getting kicked out of a tavern for harassment was the mark of a lowlife, and true to that impression, he looked like a man whose life had gone off the rails.
He looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, roughly the same age as old man Fyuji. With his short-cropped dull hair, knife-like eyes, and the scar running across his cheek, his appearance was so rough he could easily be mistaken for a ruffian. If he glared at a child, they'd likely burst into tears instantly.
His light adventurer's gear was worn out and poorly maintained, suggesting every coin he earned went straight into a bottle.
This desolate drunkard shifted into a deceptively friendly tone, making his previous outbursts seem like a lie.
"That's too bad, Wolka. My condolences... It makes me sad too. I'm not lying, you know?"
I'm sure it does. Thank you for the hollow words.
"I see. We're busy, so don't get in our way."
"Hold on... don't go running away."
I tried to leave with my Master, but as expected, a hand clamped onto my shoulder.
"Hey, there are plenty of rumors about you at the guild. People have seen you walking around with that eyepatch and prosthetic leg."
"...I'm sure they have."
It wasn't surprising. Since returning to the Holy City, I hadn't visited the guild, but I had been to the Cathedral and several shops. Word had likely spread through gossip between adventurers.
I had expected as much, so it didn't bother me.
"I don't know what happened, but since you won't show your face at the guild, I bet it’s because you're embarrassed. Did you get cocky because you were surrounded by girls all the time? What a pathetic sight for the high-and-mighty A-ranker!"
Beside me, a truly gruesome aura—a mixture of mana and bloodlust—began to swell. I tentatively peeked at my companion. Beneath her witch's hat, my Master’s face was devoid of expression, and all emotion had vanished from her voice.
"Wolka, wait a moment. ................. I must dispose of this filth."
Whoa, Master, no! Don't go down that path! I'm happy you're angry for me, but that's not just a "troubled ending"—that's a full-blown "fall to darkness" ending! I didn't want to see a Dark Master blowing people away while treating them like trash.
It would have been better if Ramsey had been intimidated, but the alcohol had made him bold. He met her bloodlust with a smug look.
"Fine by me, give it a shot... If you want to admit that this guy is now a coward who needs a woman to protect him. Well, I guess in that state, he doesn't have a choice, huh?"
"Tch...!"
A crack appeared in my Master's mask of indifference. Three seconds before the volcano erupted, I deliberately and roughly ruffled her hair, nearly crushing the point of her witch's hat. The squashed hat shifted, its large brim blocking the line of sight between her and Ramsey.
"Eek! ...W-Wolka! What are you doing?!"
Suddenly interrupted, she began to huff with annoyance. Good, she was back to normal. That kind of irritation suited her best and was much more endearing.
I let go of the hat.
"Master, don't waste your energy on someone like him."
I stopped her to save Ramsey from a one-way trip to the church's infirmary, but part of me also felt his provocation was justified. He was picking a fight with me, specifically. If I let my Master handle it, I really would look like I was hiding behind her.
I turned back to Ramsey.
"Seriously, picking on an injured man just to vent your frustrations is pretty small. Were you really that scared of the landlady?"
"...Huh?"
"So, what do you want? I'll be nice and keep a lonely drunk company for a minute."
He immediately flared with hostility. I wished he wouldn't be so easily triggered; he was the one who started this, after all.
Nevertheless, his reaction from that point on was strangely composed. Ramsey let out a low chuckle.
"For an amateur who messed up and got himself maimed, you're still pretty cocky."
"Hey, do I look cocky? I think I look like someone who's annoyed at being stuck with a bothersome drunk."
The crowd had shifted closer, and someone within it heckled Ramsey.
"He's right, he's right! It's pathetic to pick on a kid!"
"Shut up!"
Ramsey silenced them with a murderous glare.
"I've never liked you... you must've felt real good, surrounding yourself with women and racking up achievements. But the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. It's a good lesson. From now on, know your place and live with your head down."
"Coming from someone who just got humiliated and kicked out of a tavern, that really carries some weight."
He clicked his tongue loudly. Honestly, I deserved to talk back at least that much.
"Just quit being an adventurer and a swordsman. How do you plan to fight like that? How are you going to swing a sword? It's impossible. Give it up."
Heh... naive. While going on distant adventures might be difficult, I had no intention of throwing away my sword. My quick-draw technique was on the verge of a new evolution, and I wasn't about to let anyone underestimate the obsession with the blade that flowed through me.
Besides, I worried about what my Master and the others would think if I gave up. My Master, Yulitia, and Atri—each for their own reasons—blamed themselves for the tragedy that had occurred. If I abandoned the sword now, they would likely blame themselves for that, too.
I couldn't allow any more factors that might lead to a "dark ending" for the party.
"...You don't seriously think you can continue with the sword."
I replied instantly.
"Yeah, I do."
"—"
At that moment, for a split second, I saw a flicker of complex emotion in Ramsey's eyes—something that couldn't be explained by mere annoyance.
It was gone in a heartbeat. Ramsey returned to being a common drunk.
"Well, well, you really don't know your place... Adventurers are all about merit. You're already weaker than me, so you should just shut up and do what I say. Got it?"
"..."
My Master gripped the hem of my clothes tightly. I didn't need to look at her to know she was at her limit.
"Yeah, yeah. Has your loneliness been settled now that someone talked to you? Go to the Entertainment District next time; plenty of people there will talk to you with their fists."
"I told you not to run away!"
Good grief, drunks are tedious. He'd said his piece, but he was still at it. Did he really want to find out what my Master’s magic felt like?
I had thought brushing him off would make him lose interest, but I was only succeeding in making my Master more upset. I should have just done this from the start.
"If you want, I'll personally deliver your final rites! If you actually have the guts to face me in that broken body!"
He was still going. I was exasperated, but there was one thing he'd said that I wholeheartedly agreed with.
"Adventurers are all about merit." That was absolutely correct. With enough skill, even youths like us could rise to A-rank; without it, you'd stay stuck at B or C rank forever.
Success, trust, and your place in the guild—it all came down to skill.
"Oh, right, your swordsmanship was that weird acrobatic stuff... maybe you should just become a street performer? I'd even toss a coin your—"
"—Hey, old man."
I cut him off.
The sheath of my talwar tapped lightly against Ramsey's neck.
"That talk just now... I hope it wasn't just lip service."
Ramsey stood frozen in shock. I gave him the cockiest look I could manage.
"Whether I have the right to keep wielding a sword... I'd like to ask for a lesson in a duel."
Everything depends on one's own skill.
And silencing someone who looks down on you is also a matter of skill.
Seriously, that total moron’s mouth is as foul as ever.
The man covering his face in exasperation was an acquaintance of Ramsey’s from the Merchant's Guild. As a minor merchant involved in the distribution of alcohol in the Holy Court District, he had just finished a delivery and happened to come across the commotion.
He knew all about Ramsey’s drinking habits and his abrasive attitude. He had also heard rumors about why a man who was once a decent adventurer had fallen so far. Because of that, he hadn't stepped in to stop Ramsey but had instead blended into the crowd to watch.
Drunken brawls were a headache even in the Holy City. However, the Holy Court District was relatively tame; in the Entertainment District, near the fortress on the outskirts, you could see drunks being hauled away by knights every single day. That district existed there specifically so that any trouble would have the least impact on the citizens.
Ramsey had troubled the knights many times before, yet he never learned.
The person he was harassing was a young man named Wolka—an adventurer with an eyepatch and a prosthetic leg.
The merchant knit his brows. Adventuring was a high-risk, high-reward job where skill could earn even the young a fortune, but it was also a path where one could lose everything in an instant.
To lose an eye and a leg at that age...
As the merchant felt a pang of pity, Ramsey’s insults only grew worse.
"I've never liked you... stacking up achievements so smoothly. But the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. From now on, know your place and live with your head down."
The merchant was appalled. Why did Ramsey have to speak in a way that only made enemies?
"Coming from someone who just got humiliated and kicked out of a tavern, that really carries some weight."
Of course, the boy talked back. Ramsey clicked his tongue.
"Just quit being an adventurer and a swordsman. How do you plan to fight like that? It's impossible. Give it up."
The merchant wondered if Ramsey was just venting his anger or if he truly meant it. He hated to agree with Ramsey, but it was hard to imagine the boy continuing in that state. If the merchant lost an eye and a leg, his career in logistics would be over. For an adventurer who had to fight monsters with their own body, such a loss should have been the end.
"...You don't seriously think you can continue with the sword."
The temperature of Ramsey's voice dropped. He was likely looking for a reaction of despair. But the merchant saw no misery on Wolka's face.
"Yeah, I do."
"..., ...Well, well, you really don't know your place..."
Ramsey’s mood soured further.
"Adventurers are all about merit. You're already weaker than me, so you should just shut up and do what I say. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Has your loneliness been settled? Go to the Entertainment District next time."
"I told you not to run away!"
Ramsey grabbed Wolka's shoulder.
"If you want, I'll personally deliver your final rites! If you actually have the guts to face me in that broken body!"
It was unbearable to listen to. Mocking a young man's injury was beneath contempt, regardless of the intention. The merchant felt he had to step in soon, perhaps with a well-placed kick to Ramsey's back.
"Oh, right, your swordsmanship was that weird acrobatic stuff... maybe you should just become a street performer? I'd even toss a coin your—"
"—Hey, old man."
But before the merchant could move, the sheath of a talwar tapped Ramsey's neck.
"—?!"
Everyone in the crowd must have widened their eyes. No one had seen Wolka draw the sword, let alone bring it to Ramsey's throat. The intermediary steps were simply gone, lost to the eye's perception.
If he had been holding the sword, it would be one thing. But he had been empty-handed, and the sword had been magically stored on his hip. He had de-accessorized it, caught it, and moved it to Ramsey's throat in a single, fluid instant.
"That talk just now... I hope it wasn't just lip service."
Even though everyone was watching, no one had seen him move.
"Whether I have the right to keep wielding a sword... I'd like to ask for a lesson in a duel."
"Wha—"
Ramsey stumbled back, clutching his neck where it had been poked.
"Tch... as usual, your acrobatics are the only thing you're good at."
The merchant knew only secondhand that de-accessorizing usually took two or three seconds. Even experts rarely broke the one-second mark. But this was something else entirely. It was a godly feat.
"Hey, Wolka... there's no way you don't understand. What it means to swing a sword with that eye and that leg."
Wolka rested the sheath on his shoulder.
"Anyone who swings a sword because they like it isn't exactly sane."
"...Oh, right. You only have the sword. That's why you have no choice but to cling to it until you die..."
Ramsey chuckled lowly.
The merchant didn't know Wolka, but if he were a warrior who had dedicated his life to the blade, perhaps he simply didn't know another way to live. Even if he knew it was a path of thorns, he had to keep moving.
"A pitiful thing, truly—"
The trace of drunkenness vanished from Ramsey’s voice. His expression became cold, and his eyes were suddenly those of a different man.
"—Tomorrow at noon, come to the guild's training ground. I'll deliver your final rites... and show you that it's impossible for you to swing a sword anymore."
The crowd stirred. Picking a fight with an injured passerby and then challenging him to a duel was beyond being unseemly.
"Wolka...!"
The small mage beside him tried to step in, but Wolka merely placed a hand on her hat.
"You talk too much. You should have just said that from the start."
"...Fine then. Don't even think about running."
Ramsey turned on his heel, the crowd parting before him. The merchant hesitated, then sighed and followed him. Once they were clear of the crowd, he called out.
"Hey, Ramsey...!"
"Huh?"
Ramsey clicked his tongue without looking back.
"What do you want?"
"Look, enough already. Are you still... about what happened back then—"
"Shut up. If you say another word, I'll hit you."
There was no arguing with him. Ramsey vanished into the dusk of the Holy Court District.
"Everyone and everything... is so frustrating—you idiots—"
The back of the man who had once been a proper adventurer seemed to tremble under the weight of a past he couldn't escape.