Mobuseka:Leon's Adventure

In the office of Baron Bartfort, better known as Barkus, chaos reigned supreme. Towering piles of papers reached the ceiling, turning the room into a labyrinth of parchment, ink, and wax seals. There was practically no free space — even the desk, once meant for work, was buried under a sea of documents. The air was stale, filled with the smell of old paper, ink, and sweat. Barkus hadn't left the office in days, hadn't slept, and barely ate. His eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, his face covered in stubble, and his hair stuck out in all directions, making him look like he'd weathered a storm.

He looked utterly worn out: dark circles hung under his eyes, and his trembling hands betrayed the depths of his fatigue. Barkus tried to keep himself awake, but eventually, he collapsed face-first onto the desk, groaning:

"Why me?!"

It had all started with Leon. Barkus couldn't deny that, thanks to his youngest son, their family had gained fame. Leon had saved them from Zola and brought glory to House Bartfort, a level of renown they could have only dreamed of before. But with fame came an avalanche of new responsibilities. The documents that now required his attention seemed to multiply endlessly. Among them were even proposals for marriage to Leon. Instead of addressing the young man directly, suitors and their families were trying to achieve their goals through Barkus.

"That little upstart," muttered the baron, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Sure, he saved us, but now I'm suffering because of him."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Barkus said wearily, not even lifting his head.

The door creaked open, and into the room stepped the very person whose fame had brought about this misery.

"Hey, Dad! How's life? How are the kids?" Leon called out cheerfully, a wide grin plastered across his face.

Upon seeing his son's smug expression, Barkus had to summon all his restraint to avoid throwing the nearest stack of papers at him.

"I'm suffering, Leon," he said, his irritation barely contained.

"Suffering?" Leon echoed, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze quickly landed on the mountains of paperwork, and it didn't take long for him to figure out the reason for his father's discontent. "Ah, I see. I get it. My condolences."

Barkus snorted, but Leon pressed on without missing a beat.

"But I have good news for you, Dad."

Barkus struggled to lift his head from the desk, his gaze tinged with a flicker of hope.

"What news?"

"You're getting a break. Tomorrow, the four of us — you, me, Colin, and Nicks — are going to a dungeon!"

"What?!" Barkus sat up abruptly. "Okay, fine, you and Nicks, sure. But why take Colin? It's dangerous! And—" He gestured around the room. "I've got too much work to even think about taking a break."

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Leon said, waving a hand dismissively. "First of all, Colin will be safer than the king himself. Second, I've found a professional to handle all your paperwork while we're gone."

Barkus hesitated, his gaze drifting to an old mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection staring back at him was hardly recognizable. He was a shadow of the man he used to be. Memories of his youth surfaced, of times when diving into dungeons wasn't just work — it was pure joy.

"All right," he finally said with a heavy sigh. "But how are you planning to convince your mother? You know that if she finds out, there's no way she'll let us go."

Leon frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you're right…" he muttered. Then, as if struck by lightning, an idea lit up his face. "We'll leave early in the morning, while she's still asleep!"

Silence fell over the office.

"You, of all people, should know what will happen if we do this without her permission," Barkus warned darkly.

A shiver ran down Leon's spine as he recalled the pirate incident, after which his mother had nearly unleashed a storm of fury.

"Yeah, but come on, Dad! It'll be fun! You'll get to relax, have some adventure, and maybe even level up a bit!"

Barkus rolled his eyes, but deep down, the idea was starting to appeal to him.

"All right, all right," he relented at last. "But remember, if she finds out, you're the one explaining everything to her!"

Leon just grinned triumphantly, satisfied with his victory. Barkus, on the other hand, sighed, realizing that a short trip to the dungeon might be exactly what he needed.

"See you tomorrow morning, then," Leon called as he left the office, his wide grin still intact.

Left alone, Barkus rubbed his face with his hands and glanced around at the towering piles of papers. He muttered to himself:

"Dungeons, huh…"

The words stirred a wave of nostalgia within him. Memories of youth, of adventure, and dangerous escapades — all of it felt so far away in the monotony of paperwork. Suddenly, a spark of determination flared within him. Straightening his back, he stood up and headed to a room he hadn't visited in years.

After a few minutes, he found himself in front of a dust-covered door. Gripping the handle, Barkus opened it, and the rusty hinges groaned loudly. The room beyond was dark and stuffy, its shelves and corners blanketed in thick layers of dust. This was where he stored relics of his past, long forgotten.

"Now, where did I put it?" he murmured, scanning the room.

Barkus began rummaging through old chests, sneezing as clouds of dust rose around him. Then, in the far corner, his eyes fell upon a particular chest.

"Ah, there it is," he said, lifting the lid.

Inside was an adventurer's outfit — not just any outfit, but the attire of an elite explorer. The fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light, hinting at its superior quality and magical properties. Beside it lay a black sword, simple in design but exuding an aura of power that sent a chill down Barkus' spine.

Carefully, he picked up the sword. As soon as his fingers touched the hilt, a familiar warmth surged through him, along with a flood of memories.

"Ah, Monica," he said with a wistful smile, gazing at the blade. "I've missed you, my dear. These years apart were unbearable."

He clutched the sword to his chest like a long-lost companion, savoring the reunion.

"And who, pray tell, is Monica, dear?" came a sudden voice from behind him.

Barkus froze. His entire body tensed as if he'd been caught in a trap. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around. Standing in the doorway was his wife, Lucy. She wore a sweet smile, but the glint in her eyes hinted at an impending storm.

"Darling, it's not what you think…" Barkus stammered, his voice trembling.

"Oh, really?" Lucy replied, crossing her arms.

"It's… it's the sword, Lucy. Its name is Monica. I was just… uh… reminiscing about old times," he said, sweat beading on his forehead.

"A sword?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

Barkus nodded, holding up the blade with shaky hands.

"Yes, yes, a sword. Just a sword."

Lucy stepped closer, her gaze piercing.

"So it's just a sword?" she asked, leaning in.

"Of course," he croaked.

"Then why," she began, her voice sickeningly sweet but laced with menace, "did you call this sword 'dear'?"

It took several slaps and a couple of hours of frantic explanations before Barkus finally convinced Lucy that "Monica" was indeed just a sword.

Author's Note: well i have some bad news I might disappear for a week or two. Even though I said I'd be posting every day for a month, university has gotten in the way—specifically, final exams. If I pass on the first try, I'll see you on Monday. If not, then it'll be about two weeks.