She had underestimated monsters, almost died, and needed to be rescued. She was probably feeling like absolute crap right now.
What kind of look did tiny have in his eyes when he saw her like that?
“You’re not like them, are you?” I asked, flashing a toothy grin. “You became an adventurer, but you didn’t do it for your dreams. You did it because you didn’t have any other way to survive. You’re still learning how to use a spear, and goblins still scare you. You’re nothing like those two. Heck, you had no reason to go chasing after some idiots walking right into a monster ambush. You could’ve left ’em. You should’ve left ’em. So why’d you go? You’re weak, and you know you’re weak. What made you jump into a fight?”
Helping them just because they were in danger isn’t a given. If anything, letting them learn the hard way makes more sense. Just head home, grab some food, maybe say something sarcastic when they get back—if they get back. And if they don’t? Oh well. Get some sleep and move on.
That was how adventurers worked. Everything was at your own risk. Arguing with your party mid-adventure happened all the time, and no one was gonna call you coldhearted for leaving them be.
“I...” Tiny opened his mouth, but it seemed like the words were hard for him to say.
I closed my eyes and listened.
“I was planning to grab those two amateurs by the scruffs of their necks, drag them down the mountain, and then totally chew them out.”
I laughed. A lot. No one could blame me for that. Not bad, tiny. If you started spouting soft and sentimental junk, I would’ve had to tell you off. But I’ve got nothing to say. This is what being an adventurer is all about.
“So? Did you give ’em a piece of your mind?”
“Not yet.”
Ah... As an adventurer, you’re still kinda half-baked, huh? That’s not how we do things.
“Why didn’t you?” I pressed. “You should’ve. They ran off on their own and almost got themselves killed by goblins. You got hurt saving them, so you have every right to say whatever you want.”
“Uh, I...” He was really struggling to get his words out now. “I kinda, um...slapped Liluetta. Things got awkward after that.”
Aha. Yep. That explains it. That was why he hadn’t said much after getting back to the guild. He’d just left their share of the reward money before running off.
I shrugged. “You don’t really get what it means to be party members, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Adventurers are all strong-willed, so party size usually caps at six.” I took in a breath through my nose to savor the cool night air. I wondered if this kid, being human, could feel this soft breeze the same way I could. “Six is about the max number of strong personalities who can function together and still keep their egos intact. That’s why we form small parties in the first place. What I’m trying to say is, don’t hold back. If something pisses you off, say it. Let the others say what they need to say too. Throw some punches if you gotta. That’s how you find middle ground. If you really just don’t get along, disband the party. It’s no big deal. Actually,” I said with a grin, “if you’re gonna break up, make it loud. Put on a show. The bigger the blowup, the better. Gives everyone something to talk about over drinks.”
“I’m not trying to be bar gossip, you know,” he muttered.
“Sure you are. At least, you should be.” I gave a little shrug. “If word gets around that someone’s gone solo, folks might start thinking, ‘Hey, maybe I’ll ask them to join my party.’ It’s good for an adventurer to stand out. Doesn’t matter how.”
Tiny looked startled, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. It wasn’t a groundbreaking idea or anything. I still had a gripe, though. It wasn’t about what caused their falling-out, but how it had happened. Adventurer party breakups weren’t rare, but that kind of awkward, unresolved mess was a rookie mistake. Leaving things murky like that just made it weird every time you bumped into each other. Eventually, someone would switch guilds just to avoid the tension.
But if you had a full-on shouting match, with maybe a couple punches thrown in, you could keep it clean. Then you just glared at each other and moved on. That was way more refreshing.
“Sulking and moping? Adventurers hate that stuff. So next time you see those two, let loose. Yell as loud as you want.”
“Ugh.” He groaned and made a really awkward face. The kid was clearly not a fan of the idea. Well, just getting to see that expression made the whole talk worth it. Maybe.
“All right, that’s enough of that. So, hey, tomorrow. You’re not going out adventuring since you don’t have your spear, right? You’re free all day?”
I wasn’t as intense about promises as Sheya was, but I did try to keep my word. Old Badger had asked me to help the kid out, but playing mentor wasn’t really my thing. It was exhausting, so I figured it was best to just get it over with quickly and cleanly.
But what we were gonna do tomorrow was way more important than that. Waine was teaching the kid how to fight, and Sheya was planning to tutor him in magic. I was the only one left. Since Old Badger had asked all three of us to pitch in, it was my turn to pass something on. So, as my troublesome little apprentice and I headed toward the main street, I told him what I was planning.
✦ ✦ ✦
I remembered the sound of scissors snipping through feathers.
My older cousin had a pet bird. It was small, white, and adorable—the kind of friendly little thing that would tilt its head toward your finger, wanting to be petted.
I once saw someone clip that little bird’s wings. They had taken the bird out of its cage and placed it in their lap. The windows and doors had all been shut tight, but I’d opened a door by accident. Although the bird hadn’t flown away, my normally quiet cousin had let out a surprisingly loud scream.
A bird raised in captivity couldn’t survive more than three days if it escaped. A bird that had never known life outside the cage didn’t know how to find food or protect itself from predators. It was doomed to die quickly. So you clipped its wings and made sure it couldn’t fly. That way, even if it did somehow escape, it wouldn’t go far.
Snip.
I returned to my room. My birdcage.
I let my body sink back onto my bed and stretched out my arms. My fingers were trembling. Even though I’d returned safely to the Magnan estate, to my room—the one place I could call my own—fear had caught up to me. Truly grasping the fact that I had almost died made my whole body quiver.
I stared at my fingertips. That was when I finally understood I had made it back alive. I had flown out of the birdcage, seen the wide-open world beyond, and come back home.
✦ ✦ ✦
I savored the warmth and softness of my bed.
“I wonder how she’s doing now.”
My cousin had taken that little bird with clipped wings with her when she married. It was a political marriage between merchant families. According to rumors, her husband was a bit unreliable but earnest, and the two of them were living happily.
I’m sure the little bird was doing well too. It spent its days in a locked room, inside a cage, with its wings clipped so it couldn’t fly. In other words, the little bird was living out its life peacefully until the end. I didn’t know if you could call that happiness. But dying easily out in the world was definitely misfortune. The cage existed to confine and protect the weak.
If I stayed at home, inside the cage, I’d be safe. If I just sat and waited, maybe happiness would come to me someday.
“But my wings haven’t been clipped yet.”
If my feathers grow in, and I leave the cage... If the window opens, and sunlight pours in bright and warm...
If the little bird had the chance to escape, I was sure it would have taken to the sky. Even if it didn’t know how to fly and its wings broke from the fall, even if it were attacked by some terrifying predator, even if it ended up battered and bruised and was taken back in and tearfully embraced by its owner...
Even after all of that, if the opportunity comes for the bird to fly again, I think it would foolishly, thoughtlessly take off toward freedom. Every single time.
“They say all adventurers are failures and lost causes.”
Surely that was an excuse for those who kept chasing adventure because they couldn’t choose a peaceful life, for those who told themselves they were adventurers because they were screwups. They acted like fools to forget their fear. That excuse was like a spell cast to protect their uncut wings.
“Adventurers... Huh. I really underestimated them.”
If I didn’t want to become a lost cause, then I couldn’t make excuses. So even though I was scared... Even though rejection would probably break my wings for good...
Even so, I was resolved to face tomorrow head-on.