As the silence between them took on a new shape of unspoken understanding, the atmosphere shifted abruptly. Sounds erupted from the market—an uproar unlike before, sharper and more fervent. They stepped out of the narrow alley and found crowds of people rushing in a single direction, as though an unseen force was pulling them toward a common point.
They followed the masses, arriving at a vast square that pulsed as the heart of the market. The crowd was dense, people jostling and shouting with anticipation as if awaiting a long-expected event. Emilia gazed at the scene, then let out a quiet sigh, her expression starkly different from the crowd's excitement. In a voice tinged with indifference, she said:
"Oh, so it's started."
Ace turned to her, puzzled.
"What's going on?" he asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest and answered matter-of-factly,
"Looks like the preparations for the annual tournament have begun early this year."
"The annual tournament?"
She looked up at him and said,
"Yes, it's a competition held every year in town. Fighters from all over come to compete in various matches, and the winner receives a large cash prize."
"And how much is the prize?"
She tilted her head upward, placing a finger on her lip as if trying to recall something amid the noise.
"I think the prize last year was 10,000 silver coins."
Ace's eyes widened. He couldn't hide his surprise at the amount. That kind of money could change his situation and save him a great deal of time. He then asked again, his voice filled with pressing curiosity:
"Why is this tournament held in the first place?"
Her small eyes sparkled, as if she had been given another chance to showcase her knowledge.
"It's held to gather powerful fighters from all over the country into one place, where they can be offered tempting deals to stay in the town."
"So, it's to strengthen the town's security?"
She raised her eyebrows and nodded approvingly, her tone firm:
"Exactly! The more strong fighters and warriors reside here, the less likely criminals and bandits can act without punishment. That doesn't just protect the townspeople—it also keeps our trade caravans, which are the town's lifeline, safe."
After her explanation, Ace turned his gaze to the square, where something was clearly captivating the crowd. In the center, a group of large wooden blocks—scarred and cracked, as if bearing the marks of past battles—were being assembled. It took several workers to lift or push each one. They were stacking them side by side, forming what appeared to be the arena where the tournament would be held. From their size and shape, Ace guessed they had been cut from the massive trees in the forest they had passed through.
He continued to watch the workers secure the pieces with thick ropes, while the crowd buzzed with predictions about who would win. One name stood out among the murmurs: "Kalisum."
Meanwhile, Ace noticed other workers off to the side, carrying large wooden planks. They were hammering them together, sweat glistening under the setting sun. It seemed they were constructing wooden stands for spectators. Amid the mingling sounds of hammering and chatter, a loud, coarse laugh suddenly broke through the air behind them, landing squarely in Emilia's ears. Both turned at once, sensing a heavy presence looming behind them.
They saw a towering man with gleaming dark skin and harsh features, except for a slight flush on his cheeks that revealed clear signs of drunkenness. Ace recognized him immediately—it was the same man who had stood behind him in the line at the town gate, the man who had seemed disinterested then. Now, he was eyeing them with a sly grin, his clean white teeth showing.
"Well, look who we have here! hic Didn't expect to see the little chatterboxes in this place, hic" he said in a deep voice laced with both confidence and mockery.
His booming voice drew the attention of those nearby. Conversations halted, and curious eyes turned toward them. Ace paid no mind, but Emilia's brows furrowed in irritation, her eyes flaring with sharp defiance. She was not one to take mockery quietly—especially when cloaked in a sarcastic smile.
The man continued, still mocking but now with a hint of curiosity:
"Don't tell me you're both here to sign up for the tournament? hic"
His grin widened as he looked them over, as if assessing their worth with a single glance. Emilia's scowl deepened, and she snapped back:
"First, registration doesn't open until a day before the tournament. Second, do I look like someone who can compete in such things?"
Her tone dripped with disdain—unexpected from someone so young. The crowd murmured in surprise, waiting to see how the man would react. Even Ace was caught off guard by her boldness.
Suddenly, the man burst into laughter—a loud, rumbling laugh that shook the area. Some people even covered their ears to muffle the sound. His laughter wasn't just mockery; it carried a hint of admiration, perhaps even respect for the girl's courage.
"Apologies, apologies, young lady. My bad," he said, still chuckling.
Then he turned to Ace, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny.
"So, is this fellow of yours the one planning to enter?"
Ace opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Emilia's voice cut through the air with swift intensity. She stepped forward, her gaze blazing, and declared:
"Why do you keep assuming we're interested in entering? We were just passing by. Stop getting carried away with your fantasies, you bald oaf!"
A heavier silence fell. The tension was palpable, like static in the air. Ace was stunned. He had only seen Emilia cheerful and polite until now. The shift in her demeanor was startling—her posture, her lifted chin—it was as though a different person stood beside him.
Yet the large man didn't seem surprised. On the contrary, his mocking gaze deepened, his smile curling wider as though he relished the confrontation. Ace sensed things might escalate. He stepped forward and asked calmly:
"Are you planning to enter the tournament, sir?"
His question was simple, an attempt to defuse the tension and steer the conversation elsewhere. The man paused, lifted his head slightly as if savoring the moment, then replied proudly:
"Of course! I came to this town just for the tournament. The prize money's too tempting! hic"
Emilia clicked her tongue, as if trying to rid her mouth of a bitter taste. She turned slightly away and muttered, more to herself than to him:
"Just as I thought... a mercenary."
The word was quiet but sharp—like a blade. It wasn't a passing comment; it carried weight, like a curtain being pulled back on a dark past. Ace furrowed his brows, puzzled by the word.
"Mercenary?" he echoed.
At that moment, Emilia's expression shifted from irritation to surprise. She turned to Ace with wide eyes, her voice softening:
"Mr. Ace, don't you know what mercenaries are?"
He shook his head. At once, both the man and Emilia responded simultaneously:
"Huh?"
"Huh?"
They spoke in unison but with very different tones—his rough and astonished, hers soft and shocked. The surrounding crowd shared their surprise. The man muttered with slight annoyance:
"Damn it, man. That stung a little."
Emilia narrowed her eyes, her tone incredulous and disapproving:
"I can't believe you don't know what mercenaries are either!"
She then gestured subtly toward the large man, her voice low and charged:
"Despite all the chaos they cause..."
The man stepped forward with two heavy strides, his voice deliberately calm, almost proud:
"Well, let your dear uncle here educate you. We mercenaries work freely, like adventurers, but we're even freer. Adventurers are bound by guilds, ranks, rules—even paperwork. We have none of that. No rules, no forms. A client comes to us, pays upfront, we do the job, and leave. Simple."
His voice brimmed with confidence. His explanation was less about clarity and more about boasting. Not too detailed, not too vague—just enough to present himself in the best light.
Ace noticed Emilia staring at the ground, fists clenched tightly, lips moving in whispers only she could hear. The man glanced at her and said with mock cheer:
"What's the matter, little one? Got something to say? Uncle's all ears."
She lifted her head, her eyes now fierce with defiance. Raising her arm dramatically, she pointed straight at him and shouted:
"Take that back—now!"
Both Ace and the man looked at each other, confused. The man raised an eyebrow and replied with a mix of amusement and provocation:
"Excuse me, little miss, but I don't quite follow. Did something I say upset you?"
There was no regret in his voice—only veiled mockery. Emilia's gaze sharpened as she snapped:
"You said mercenaries are freer than adventurers. That's not true at all! Adventurers are freer—because they choose to fight for something. You fight only for money!"
The man folded his arms across his broad chest, looking down at her with narrowed eyes and a gravelly voice:
"Oh? How's that?"
His tone was like a blade testing its sharpness on silk. He wasn't seeking an answer—he was testing her resolve. Emilia raised her chin, her wide eyes glowing with confidence. She planted her hands on her hips and said boldly:
"Adventurers are the freest people out there. Sure, they have guilds, but the very spirit of adventure is about freedom—crossing mountains, exploring dark forests, facing monsters and legends, chasing the unknown, the truth, themselves. But mercenaries…"
She paused, locking eyes with him, and said with quiet disdain:
"They're bound to one thing—money. Without it, there'd be no mercenaries. No honor, no purpose, no passion. Just coin purses and spilled blood."
Silence fell. Even the air seemed to still, listening. The crowd raised their eyebrows, some nodding in agreement, others casting Emilia looks of admiration. Though young, her words carried wisdom and clarity.
The massive man remained silent, but his smile darkened, like a calm sea hiding ruthless undertows. He raised a hand and stroked an invisible beard—a gesture he seemed to perform when contemplating or pretending to.
"Oh, but doesn't money buy freedom? The more you have, the more you can live as you please. Isn't that the truest form of freedom?"
Emilia grimaced, his words striking something dear to her. She felt he was belittling adventurers, tarnishing the honor she had always revered. Her voice was dry, masking bruised pride:
"I don't want to speak with someone so narrow-minded. Mr. Ace, let's go."
She grabbed Ace's hand and pulled him away quickly, as if fleeing a poison seeping into the air. The man watched them go, his narrowed eyes dissecting Ace as if trying to see something hidden beneath the surface. But then, he belched loudly, shattering the imposing image he had just created.
Once they were far from the square, Emilia suddenly stopped. She let go of Ace's hand and sighed deeply, as though her soul bore more weight than her body. She turned to him, her eyes a mix of shame and regret:
"I'm sorry... for letting you see that side of me."
Ace gave her a gentle smile, warm and patient, like sunlight melting frost. There was no trace of displeasure in his voice when he said kindly:
"It's alright. No need to apologize."
They exchanged a brief look before Emilia suggested they return home. The sun was casting its final hues across the sky, while the lamplighters, dressed simply, moved through the streets with tall wooden ladders, lighting the lanterns perched along the sidewalks.
The glow of the small flames reflected off the walls, giving the town a lyrical calm. The air grew cooler, its chill brushing faces like a quiet reminder that night was near. The streets emptied, the noise faded, and the town began to breathe in silence once more—awaiting the next tale to awaken with the dawn.