What's A Food Situation?

The once-lively manor now stood in oppressive silence, its halls bereft of life and echoing with an almost funereal stillness. Hudson was gone, vanished without a trace. Whispers rippled through the town, branding him a criminal—an attempted murderer. The news had spread like wildfire: the trusted butler who had turned on his master.

In the manor's kitchen, the usual chatter and laughter had been replaced with grim expressions. The cooks wore their worries plainly, their frowns etching deep lines across their faces. Even the air felt heavier, burdened by their collective unease.

Mary glanced at the group as she stood by the counter, her sleeves rolled up. She couldn't ignore their distress any longer. With a sigh, she stepped beside Gordon, who was stirring a pot with far less gusto than usual.

Picking up an onion, Mary inspected its surface, feeling the weight and firmness in her hand. After a brief examination for any signs of spoilage, she grabbed her knife and began chopping, her movements brisk but methodical. The steady rhythm of the blade against the cutting board provided some semblance of normalcy. Yet, her thoughts refused to settle.

"Hey, do you think he really did it?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with curiosity.

Gordon, leaning casually against the counter, bit into a carrot and chewed thoughtfully. Tossing the rest into the pot, he shook his head. "Unthinkable. We all know how much Master Hudson respects the Lord. This has to be a misunderstanding."

Mary paused, her knife hovering over the half-chopped onions. "But... he's not dead, right?"

Gordon's laugh erupted suddenly, loud and hearty, startling the kitchen staff. He slapped his thigh, grinning. "So that's it, eh? That's what's got you all so on edge." He picked up Mary's knife, gesturing with it. "Let me tell you something about Hudson. He might seem gentle, but the man's got grit. He wouldn't go down so easily."

Mary's lips pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing. "Still, we haven't heard from him in two days."

Gordon placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. "Then we wait. Hudson's tough. He'll show up when he's good and ready."

Just as the tension began to ease, Gordon's nose twitched. His eyes darted to the pot, and his expression twisted in rage. "By the flames, the soup's burning!" He turned to the staff, brandishing the knife like a weapon. "You lot shouldn't be worrying about Hudson—you should be worrying about your lives!"

The cooks yelped as he waved the knife, shouting about the sanctity of his meal. They immediately fired back, accusing him of being distracted in the first place. Chaos erupted as Gordon chased them around the kitchen, his voice booming as he left the food still burning.

Mary leaned against the counter, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She had increased the temperature flames without him knowing, her hope in Hudson wouldn't falter that easily. She watched the cooks run around the kitchen with pans and knives. For all the madness, it was far better than the suffocating quiet.

#

Deep within the forest, the towering trees loomed like silent guardians, their massive canopies blotting out the sky. The scattered rays of sunlight that managed to pierce through the foliage cast faint golden streaks across the mossy ground, offering a false sense of serenity in a place that reeked of both mystery and manure. The earthy smell of dung mingled with the distinct musk of Pasta's sweat, creating an aroma no one dared to comment on—except for Emilia, who was silently waging her own olfactory battle.

Emilia held a handkerchief to her nose, choosing to suffocate herself with the sweet aroma rather than succumb to her brother's awful smell. Her focus remained firmly on her adventurer's guidebook, her face a mask of determination. She was halfway through its thick pages—just two hundred more to go. Somewhere deep inside, she hoped there was a section on 'Dealing with the Stink of Boys,' though she suspected such a solution was beyond even the wisest of adventurers.

The group trudged forward, led by the perpetually frowning Mr Swordsman. His patience was wearing thin, not from the dangers of the forest, but from the sheer pain of travelling with novices and a butler who looked like he was about to faint the next second. He glanced at the map in his hand, then at the forest around him. Back to the map. Back to the trees. His frown deepened. According to the map, they should have arrived at a picturesque river surrounded by trees.

Instead, all he saw were more trees. And no river.

Mr Swordsman flipped the map over as if it might reveal some hidden secret on the back. Nope. Still no river.

"Uh, Mr Swordsman?" Pasta chimed in, peering over his shoulder. "You sure you're reading it right? Looks like a five-year-old drew that thing. Let me have a look, I'm good at this stuff"

Mr Swordsman shot him a glare sharp enough to silence even the chirping birds overhead. "The map is fine. The problem," he said, crumpling the edges of the paper slightly, "is this forest."

"Why did we stop?" Hudson asked, adjusting the cast on his arm.

Emilia, closing her guidebook, stepped forward with an arched brow. "What's going on now?"

Mr Swordsman squinted at the worn map in his hands, tilting it left and right. "This map... it's supposed to lead us to Pyrovile, correct?"

"Not exactly," Emilia said, crossing her arms. "The taskmaster said it would guide us to the sun blossoms. She didn't say anything about—" Her words faltered, and her eyes widened. "Wait... Are we lost?"

Mr Swordsman sighed. "Calm down. We can just head back."

Emilia drew in a steadying breath, tapping her chin as she mulled over their predicament. "Alright. If we can retrace our steps to where we picked the flowers then maybe we can find a clue on how to get to Pyrovile. It's not the end of the world."

"Let's pick up the pace, though," Pasta said, throwing punches into the air. "I really want to pound some mercenaries!"

Meanwhile, Hudson was cautiously stepping over what he prayed wasn't dung, only to step right into something equally unpleasant. His face scrunched up as he held his breath and kept walking. Ever since the scolding from Emilia, he had kept quiet ever since. There was no time to return to the guild at Gildenspire and get more recruits, the best he could do was warn the town folks and friends about the destruction of the town before it's too late. Still, he wondered. Are these my bodyguards?

"Girl, you may begin," Mr. Swordsman said, tugging his hat into place. "You're right, If we can get back to where this map runs out, we might find another route to the town."

Emilia blinked. "Me? Why me?"

Mr Swordsman's face remained stoic. "I've been leading the way this entire time. I didn't exactly memorise the path we took."

Emilia folded her arms, incredulous. "You've been reading the map and watching the trail. Shouldn't you be the one to guide us back?"

With an air of unbothered authority, Mr Swordsman leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed. "Don't ask questions. Just lead the way."

The truth, which he would take to his grave, was simple: he'd been relying on sheer instinct and an overabundance of confidence to navigate. The map was more decoration than a tool in his hands. Admitting he was wrong? Not a chance.

Emilia sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. "Fine. Except... I wasn't paying attention either. I was busy with the guidebook."

Pasta stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye. "Why are you always glued to that thing anyway? I thought you wanted to be an adventurer, not some nerdy bookworm."

"It's a guidebook for novice adventurers, you simpleton," she said, rolling her eyes.

Pasta raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin undeterred. "Whatever you say, milady."

"Enough," Mr Swordsman said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Arguing won't get us anywhere. Someone needs to step up, and since no one else seems capable…" He turned his gaze to Hudson, who had been quietly watching the exchange.

Hudson flinched under the sudden attention. "Me? Why me?"

Emilia blinked before turning her head, her eyes wide as she stared at Hudson.

"You've been trailing behind, haven't you?" Mr. Swordsman asked, arching a brow. "Surely, you must've noticed something on the way here."

Hudson scratched the back of his neck, his casted arm awkwardly dangling at his side. "I mean… I was kind of focused on not tripping over tree roots or stepping in… uh…" His eyes darted to a particularly suspicious patch of ground. "Let's just say I wasn't sightseeing."

Emilia groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. "So no one knows the way back?"

"Great leadership here," Pasta said with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the chaos. "At this rate, we'll die of starvation before we even see Pyrovile."

Mr Swordsman shot him a withering glare. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

Pasta tapped his chin as if deep in thought. "Hmm, I do if it's involving food." He then unsheathed his blade dramatically. "But hey, if we're stuck here, at least there's always a chance we'll run into some Mushkins. I'll be happy to carve us a path out!"

Emilia smacked her forehead. "We're not cutting our way through the forest, Pasta."

Pasta frowned. "You know you're more adorable when you're shy; now you seem like a widowed ruler."

Emilia's face flushed bright red as she drew her sheathed blade and hit Pasta on the head again and again with tremendous force. Despite the onslaught and the blood trickling down his nose, Pasta kept his grin as he kept teasing his sister.

Hudson chuckled softly despite himself, earning curious looks from the group.

"What's so funny?" Emilia asked, frowning.

"I was just thinking," Hudson said, glancing at the others. "For a group of adventurers, we're awfully bad at… adventuring."

The group fell silent for a moment before Pasta burst out laughing. "He's got a point! We can't navigate, we can't agree, and apparently, we have an over-the-top swordsman and a girl who won't ever find love, we stand no chance against those mercenaries"

Emilia shot him a glare and continued hitting his face with her blade while Mr Swordsman remained silent before he turned to Hudson. "Hey, make yourself useful and lead us to Pyrovile. Who needs a map when we've got you?"

Hudson sighed. "Well, I do know the general direction, but we need to find an open field first. This… forest feels kind of off." His stomach growled loudly, betraying him. "And, uh, I might need to eat something before I pass out. Maybe we should take a break?"

Pasta flopped onto his back, landing in a bush with a rustle. "A break sounds like the best idea I've heard all day," he said, stretching his arms over his head. His eyes glazed over as he began fantasising about the meals from the tavern—roasted meats, sizzling skewers, steaming bowls of stew. Chunks of imaginary food floated around him like a glorious feast. He turned his hungry gaze toward Emilia, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. "Heeeeey, sis. What's for breakfast?"

Emilia didn't even look up as she settled herself against a tree. "Don't 'hey' me. I'm not your mother," she said sharply, pulling out a small loaf of bread and a jar of jam from her bag. "You love food so much, yet you didn't bother packing any? That's on you."

She popped the lid off the jar, revealing a shimmering purple jam that sparkled like crushed gemstones. Its sweet, heavenly aroma filled the air, making even the birds pause their chirping in reverence. The bread, perfectly golden and crisp, gleamed like it had been blessed by some divine baker.

Emilia spread a dollop of the crystalline jam onto the crispy bread creating an outworldy beauty that could tempt the most disciplined monks or even dethrone angels from their celestial posts.

Pasta and Hudson stared at the food like starving wolves, their mouths practically unhinging. Even Mr Swordsman sneaked a peek.

Emilia took a deliberate, delicate bite, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. But when she noticed their wide-eyed stares, her face flushed. "W-What are you staring at?" she stammered, clutching her meal defensively. "Aren't you men? Go hunt your own food or something. I'm not sharing, so don't even think about it!"

She turned her back to them, nibbling smugly.

Mr. Swordsman straightened, pulling his cloak tighter. "She's right," he said. "A real man finds his own food"

Pasta sprang to his feet with a wide smirk as he drew his blade. "Alright then! It's a challenge! Let's go hunting!"

Hudson's eyes widened in horror. Can't they see I'm injured? He thought, staring at his arm in its itchy cast. Before he could say anything, Pasta darted into the forest like a madman, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Mr Swordsman simply disappeared, vanishing like a shadow into the trees.

Hudson was left standing awkwardly, muttering to himself. "Great. Guess I'll just... starve here."

Emilia suddenly turned around, holding up her bread with a theatrical gasp. "Oh, wow. I'm so full. What a meal! But what's this? Oh, no, more bread? I had no idea!" She let out the most fake chuckle Hudson had ever heard, holding up another loaf. "I just found extra bread. What a surprise! And wouldn't you know it? Everyone else is gone. Whatever shall I do?"

Her forced smile twitched as she handed Hudson a slice.

Hudson blinked, then chuckled softly. "Thanks," he said, sitting beside her.

"Don't tell the others," Emilia said, her smugness replaced by a warm grin as they quietly shared the meal.

#

"The forest is cool... or at least I think it is. That means there's gotta be some animals hanging around here, right?" Pasta said as he climbed up a tree. "I don't know what kind of animals, but hey if they're here, it's 'cause they love cool places. Hehe, this is easy."

He perched on a branch, scanning the area. His eyes caught sight of rustling in a bush far ahead, and his face lit up.

"Gotcha!" he shouted, leaping off the branch in a dramatic dive.

He tore through the undergrowth like a man possessed, chasing the rustling bush to bush. The little critter darted ahead, too quick for him to identify. But Pasta wasn't one to discriminate when it came to potential meals. If it moves and is made of flesh then it can grilled and seasoned.

Pasta drew out his blade and stabbed into the bush, revealing his catch: a tiny, green-scaled creature with a round, ball-like body that shimmered like an emerald under the sunlight.

The creature flailed its stubby legs, rolling onto its back in an effort to right itself.

Pasta crouched down, scratching his head. "I mean... sure, living things are edible, but bugs? Really?" he said, leaning closer. "How're you doing, little fella?"

He extended a finger to poke the critter's round belly. But before he could make contact, the creature flipped upright and fixed him with a menacing glare. With a sharp hiss, it released a puff of green smoke straight into his face before darting off.

Pasta staggered back, coughing. "Of course it's poisonous," he groaned, waving the smoke away. But then he glanced down and froze.

His clothes were... melting.

"Oh, great," he whispered, before blinking in confusion as the world around him began to shift. The trees transformed into massive hunks of roasted meat, their bark gleaming with juices. The bushes became bubbling pots of rice, steam curling lazily into the air. Vines twisted into long strands of noodles, and the sky exploded into a kaleidoscope of vibrant, swirling colours that would put any painter to shame.

The rustling of leaves morphed into a harmonious symphony, accompanied by an orchestra of chimes and distant laughter.

"Am I in heaven?" Pasta asked, eyes wide, as he caught sight of a majestic unicorn emerging from the surreal foliage. Its pristine white coat glowed, and its long pink mane shimmered like spun candy floss. But it was the creature's piercing purple eyes that truly mesmerised him.

The unicorn regarded him for a brief moment before turning and galloping gracefully into the woods.

"WAIT, MY LOVE!" Pasta screamed with his arms outstretched.

Completely ignoring his dissolving clothes, he dashed after the ethereal creature, his nude frame cutting through the colourful forest.

#

Every living being possessed a life force—a radiant aura comprised of multiple layers, each brimming with untapped potential. This aura could serve various purposes: enhancing durability in battle or, more subtly, locating others.

In a quiet forest clearing, Mr Swordsman stood still, the faint breeze rustling his cloak. He took a slow breath, closing his eyes to focus. The gentle sway of the trees, the soft rustle of grass beneath the wind—it all painted a tranquil picture.

He activated a pulse from one of his outer layers of energy, sending a subtle ripple through the air to pinpoint any living presence within a set radius.

The pulse expanded outward, an invisible wave brushing through the forest like the air itself. Yet the silence remained.

"Strange," he said, his voice barely audible. "Even the usual chirping is gone."

He opened his eyes, his sharp gaze scanning the still surroundings. "The few life forces located were monsters, all of which were on the run," he whispered. "But there aren't any predators nearby either. How strange indeed"

Turning on his heel, he started back toward where he'd left Emilia and Hudson. The unease lingered in his stride. "What kind of forest is this without its creatures?" He fell silent, his expression darkening as he clenched a fist at his side. "A forest with no animals?"

The moment passed, and he straightened himself, shaking off the discomfort. As he walked, faint giggles and the melodic hum of children's voices seemed to float through the air, distant yet oddly clear. He halted mid-step, placing a hand on his head with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hearing things now?" he said aloud. "Must be hunger. Or exhaustion."

With a faint chuckle, he stared at the trees. "At least the siblings aren't here to pester me. Maybe I'll enjoy this strange peace a little longer."

Mr. Swordsman lay sprawled on the grass, eyes fixed on the clouds above. For once, he thought he might actually get a moment of peace. Then, as if on cue, the bushes erupted with rustling.

He sighed, already knowing who it was.

"There you are!" Emilia said, stepping into the clearing, Hudson and a huge old man trailing behind her. The old man's white beard looked as though it had been cultivated for centuries, but his lively eyes betrayed an energy that didn't match his aged face.

Mr. Swordsman groaned as he rose to his feet. "Who's the old man?"

"Oh, him?" Emilia said. "He offered to give us a ride to Pyrovile." Her gaze darted around. "By the way, where's Pasta?"

"Knowing him, he's off playing the fool somewhere in the forest," Mr Swordsman muttered before turning his attention to the old man. "Why are you offering us a ride? If you're hoping for payment, I'll save you the trouble—I have no coin. And don't even think about asking for labour."

The old man grinned, his voice husky but warm. "I'm aware of your situation. That's why Lady Emilia and I have come to an agreement."

Lady Emilia? Mr. Swordsman's eye twitched. And when did they start making agreements without me? His glare shifted to Hudson, who suddenly became deeply engrossed in a fascinating study of nearby butterflies.

Mr Swordsman folded his arms. "What sort of agreement?"

Emilia stepped forward with a smirk. "His granddaughter is missing. He'll give us a ride if we help him find her."

Mr Swordsman frowned. "We're in a hurry. We've taken enough detours as it is—"

"He also said he'd feed us."

"Deal," Mr. Swordsman said instantly, grabbing the old man's hand in a firm shake. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise. Name's Andy," the old man chuckled. "Nice grip, young man. You must be a very dedicated swordsman."

"Thanks—"

Before he could finish, a high-pitched scream echoed from deep within the forest.

"HELP ME!!!"

"That's Tori's voice," Andy held Mr Swordsman's collar. "You've got to save her adventurer"

Emilia gestured for Hudson to follow as they prepared to head into the woods. Suddenly, a girl leapt out, her long pink hair flowing in the wind and her purple eyes shimmering like midnight comets. Clearly, she was not from around here.

"Grandpappy!" she cried, leaping into Andy's arms. "Please help me! There's a strange creature chasing me!"

Mr Swordsman unsheathed his blade while Emilia stepped protectively in front of the pair. Hudson, ever resourceful, picked up a rock. "Better than nothing," he whispered.

The creature's screech grew louder as it closed in. Then, out of the bushes, it emerged—a mud-covered, buck-naked Pasta, his sword raised like that of a warrior.

"My love!" he yelled, arms stretched in the air.

Hudson's eyes bulged in terror. "AARRGH! DIE, MONSTER!" he screamed, launching the rock with all his might.

"No Wait!" Emilia and Mr Swordsman said, as their eyes watched the stone struck Pasta baby-makers. Pasta froze in the air with his eyes popping wide as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Wait a minute…" Hudson whispered, his voice trembling as realisation dawned. "That's Pasta, isn't it? What have I done?!"

Mr Swordsman stepped forward and picked up Pasta. "I'll tell you what you've done," he said, facing his back against Hudson. "You just killed a man and a generation"