Gate 3 - School of Muramasa

[ Gate 3 : School of Muramasa

SCENARIO: According to legend, Muramasa and his school of swordsmiths work in this secluded forest near the Uji River in Japan. Find him and complete whatever task his students ask of you. ]

'Osaka Prefecture in Honshu, Japan. The source of Uji River is Lake Biwa in Shiga Prefecture to the north.'

The rushing river, the spawning of players, his ears perked up from the sounds. Dasha kept calm as he watched his fellow players appear. Their looks of confusion, their cursory scans of their surroundings, and their next course of action. He could read them like a children's book. In total, there were six of them. Six disappointments. Following the appearance of a semi-decent male player in chainmail armour, he decided to move. If there was no promise, there was no point in colluding with them.

"Woah, pretty boy, where do you think you're going?"

The call out was addressed to Dasha. He ignored it and kept heading to the forest.

"Hold it!" A hand grabbed his shoulder. He was tempted to toss the man responsible over said shoulder. "There's no need to leave, man. We should go as a group. No point in just going by yourselves. We should chill for now."

Thick black hair in a short quiff, a cocky smile, a set of chainmail armour over a green tunic and trousers, Dasha wasn't impressed when he looked him over. His name was Alex and he was level ten, the highest amongst the seven guys and girls here. Instinctively, due to his level, he would be heading the party. Everyone else was quiet. Nervous. Dasha wondered how they even made it past the slimes.

"Okay."

Alex was taken aback by his response. "Really? Nice. Say, man, what's your level? I can't see it."

To lie or not to lie, that was the question. "Level 15," Dasha settled for. High enough to warrant the respect he desired.

"Seriously? Damn." Alex pursed his lips, envious. "We could really use your help then. Clearly, you know what you're doing, right?"

The thinnest woman he had ever seen in his life came to join Alex's suggestion. Pauline Lannes de Montebello was her name and she clutched her staff like a nervous wreck. "Y-yeah, we could really use your help, sir."

"Sure." No main objective nor a special objective. He could understand the sense of loss in a forest. "Follow me."

There were anxious glances but no one raised an objection as they left the rushing river and went into the forest. Dasha wasn't worried. The types of trees here were distinct from the banyan trees and peepal trees of Kishkindha. The trees were smaller and their leaves were cordate in shape with an elongated tip.

'But these types of trees are generally in the Indian subcontinent. How could they be in Japan?'

He didn't need to stop to touch it, his eyes registered the image and sent it to his mind map in order to find a correspondence. The process took less than a second.

A deep layout of the Earth was imprinted in his head, which he fueled through establishing a Geoguesser club at university. He had played the game with frightening accuracy. He had a good idea of where they were from the instant he arrived, but the plant life threw him off.

If Muramasa lived during the fifteenth or sixteenth century, then that meant that in four hundred years the plant life of the Uji River changed. He formulated seven theories as to how that could have happened.

'Or maybe this isn't accurate at all and is merely fiction. Like Azrael said, these are pages from a book.'

Although maybe that too was an expression…

"Errr, sorry, but do you know where you're going?"

Five minutes in, and Alex was already asking dumb questions.

"There's trail marks on the trees." Dasha's fingers lightly scathed on one of the markings done by a blade. "And they seem to be directing us to the falling sun—west—where I saw smoke rising."

"You saw smoke!? Why didn't you tell us, man?"

"I assumed you saw it too."

Alex muttered to himself the whole way. Dasha ignored his ramblings. He semi-listened to what the group of girls at the back were saying too. Pauline was largely silent so the conversation was overrun by Sarah and Emma, who were exchanging astrology signs.

The way her breath shifted and her feet touched the ground, Pauline exuded a shy temperament. The worst kind of temperament in an environment like this.

Besides Alex, the remaining males were silent. Awkward and meek, except for one: Paul. His breath was ragged as if invigorated by something. By what, Dasha didn't know.

The university professor focused on the journey ahead till he heard voices and smelled fire and metal.

Muramasa's school was like a gentle breeze carrying smoke and earth. It was a phenomenal work of wood housing over a platoon of students and open to invite many more. A homey countryside school with low, sloping roof and a sturdy wooden sign bearing the school's name: School of Muramasa.

'Shoin style of architecture,' Dasha noted.

A man garbed in a grey-blue hakama was sweeping the area when he caught sight of them. "Oh, hello there! I assume you must be the samurai we hired! Oh yes, we've been waiting for your arrival! Not a moment too soon either!"

While his words were welcoming, Dasha could read a deep unease in the sweeper. They were foreigners. Their dresses spelled like foreigners.

Then they spoke and the unease softened.

"S-samurai?" Alex stepped forward. "We're no samurai, we're just…travellers."

Language. The link between humans. It seemed their fluency, their understanding, erased the unease in the sweeper.

"I see!" The man's name hovered above him—Fujiwara Masazane. "Do you require directions then?"

"No, but, ah, this is Muramasa's school, right?"

Alex's question brightened Fujiwara right back up.

"Customers then!? Yes, yes, come in!"

Frankly, the players didn't know what they were or why they were here. Everything past this point was uncharted territory. There was no clear objective for them to clear, so without peeping a word, they went inside the wooden structure.

Doors slid open. The School of Muramasa was as modest as it appeared. A courtyard as its centrepiece and was filled by the classic edo-era blacksmith setup. A tatara furnace, a kaku-anvil, nakago-nomi and maru-tongs, and a water trough. Although nothing was being forged and no student was in sight, he could smell the smarmy heat in the air.

"Please, come in."

Fujiwara brought the nine players to a large room. The pillows were comfortable to sit on and tea was offered. Fujiwara was easily one of the most hospitable men Dasha had encountered. He was courteous and a little over the top yet never overbearing. He knew what he was doing.

Dasha politely drank the tea, thinking, 'Loose leaf green tea. I haven't had this in a while.'

It was good. Too good. The art of preparing tea during Muramsa's era, the Muromachi period, was rare—or rather, that it was in its infancy. Whoever this Fujiwara individual was, he was exceptional. He could sense the others could feel the impact of the tea's taste. In his head, something was off. He couldn't figure out what though.

"I'm not much of a tea guy but damn." Alex put the cup down. "Thanks, Fujiwara. I've been starving myself trying to save po—money."

"Ah, so you know my name already? Wonderful!"

"Where is Muramasa?" Paul's question was innocent enough. That didn't stop the bells in Dasha's head. "Or the other students?"

"The students are sleeping. Muramasa Sensei is not here. He went to give his fine swords to a wealthy buyer. My apologies."

"Hm."

"It's alright." Pauline comforted him with a weak smile. "We understand. Is there any way we can help?"

The apprentice scrunched up his face. "Are you not buyers? Why would you do that?"

"We would like to see the process for forging a blade ourselves," Dasha interjected. "The gathering of resources, the technique of forging. We simply wish to participate to witness the legend."

"Err, yes." Alex took a small sip of the tea. "What the man said."

"I see. Yes, yes, I understand." Fujiwara's face brightened up more than it should have. "Conveniently, I have a list of tasks for our students that I can assign you."

[ Main Objective found! ]

[ Gate 3 : Muramasa's School

SCENARIO: According to legend, Muramasa and his school of swordsmiths work in this secluded forest near the Uji River in Japan. Find him and complete whatever task his students ask of you.

Main Objective: Help Muramasa's students forge ten weapons.

Prize Pool: 500 XP, 1,000 PP ]

Help the school. That was the hint towards the main objective of the scenario. However, as Fujiwara told everyone their roles, who should collect what and where, Dasha's intuition lit up again. The other players left, one by one, and even as Pauline sent him a concerned look, he ignored her and stayed seated. To some, it looked normal and merely the last person to be given a task.

The expression on Fujiwara's face said otherwise.

"You seem strong. Strong like a samurai. I…wish to tell you something."

'Something just to tell me? Could this be the hidden objective?'

"Go on," Dasha urged.

"Recently, during the season, we…have been attacked by bandits. Bandits, I believe, to be led by a ronin."

"A samurai without its master," Dasha muttered. "I see. Where is he?"

Fujiwara's eyes went wide and desperate. "I do not know. He comes every month for a tribute. Sword, money, whatever. He is…there are ten of them. Ten bandits and among them a single samurai. Please, save us, sir!"

[ Special Objective found! ]

[ Gate 3 : School of Muramasa

SCENARIO: According to legend, Muramasa and his school of swordsmiths work in this secluded forest near the Uji River in Japan. Find him and complete whatever task his students ask of you.

Main Objective: Help Muramasa's students forge ten weapons.

Prize Pool: 500 XP, 1,000 PP

SPECIAL OBJECTIVE: Defeat the bandits hurting the School of Muramasa.

SPECIAL PRIZE POOL: ? ]

"T-they ask tribute of us because Muramasa Sensei is gone and we…we are helpless!" Fujiwara continued. "We need help! Please, I beg!"

"I will."

While the rest of them would go on with the scenario and complete the main objective, he would secretly leave and finish the special objective. He wasn't going to tell anyone. Why should he? Fujiwara had chosen Dasha and Dasha alone to follow through with this task.