ã€ŠThe Weapon Wieldersã€‹


 Prolouge

    The batter of Kyuhe¡¯s stingray boots reverberated off the green pi¨¡of¨² sh¨ª-embedded walls like thunder as he strode across the room, looking into the faces of his soldiers with a stern, analyzing gaze. With their faces shrouded behind sh¨¦ masks, they wore tightly clasped long woolen cloaks to shield them from the abrasive winds that graced their small kingdom of Bilithgorn. It¡¯ll be easy for an outsider to assume that the eyes that stared back at his were cold like a machine, void of any emotion. However, that wasn¡¯t what Kyuhe saw at all. The look in their eyes were as vibrant with not only life, but also with ambition and conviction. Many of them had gone through years of training in anticipation of this mission for one reason - providing for their families - and for that, they had his respect.

    ¡°Is everything ready, Commander Song?¡± a familiar voice asked. One might think that the voice would prompt an inkling of familial fondness, considering that the woman who voiced her question was his cousin, but instead, a burst of uneasiness swelled within him.

    Ever since the Red Panther incident ten years prior with the Bilithgoric nobility, any sort of familial love he¡¯s held for her was thrown to the Sacred Wind and replaced with constant discomfort whenever she grew near. Right now, it was no more different.

    Following his troops¡¯ leads, he placed an invisible mask over his face and concealed his fear. This morn has not been easy and it¡¯s best to not arouse the Tigress¡¯s already paper-thin temper. ¡°Yes, my H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°u,¡± Kyuhe replied with coolness, turning to her.

    H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°u Xi¨´y¨©ng might¡¯ve naturally had the desired royal Bilithgoric looks that Kyuhe had seen millions of palace women trying their damndest to obtain as a boy ¨C porcelain white skin, almond-shaped eyes of grey and long black hair flowing gracefully down layers of Setrkyese kakory silk ¨C but she was far from resembling the likeness of the heavenly maidens of old. The crown was a circlet of carved jade and looked like the lower jaw of a tiger, but neither the intimidating crown nor the scar that forever left its mark on the left side of her face was what made Kyuhe nervous either. It was her vile temper, and Kyuhe knew that no one was a better representation of her despicable deportment than the crowned prince who was standing beside her, watching the send-off take place.

    K¨£i, the crowned prince, was also the Weapon Wielder of their country, Bilithgorn, but instead of emitting an air of royalty and divinity, the only thing he emitted was the fear of a mouse in the presence of a cat. Xi¨´y¨©ng wouldn¡¯t have their relationship any other way, constantly saying, ¡°to better control him with,¡± but that only made Kyuhe¡¯s heart go out to his younger cousin even more as his joke-loving, creative personality being suppressed by his mother¡¯s attendance. Thankfully for the young man¡¯s sanity though, he didn¡¯t inherit any of Xi¨´y¨©ng¡¯s features and resembled only his father: a darker shade of complexion like that of a Navi who worked their entire life outside under the sun¡¯s harsh gaze, long dark brown hair that cascaded down his muscular build and small cloud-grey eyes.

    Rumors on the identity of the crowned prince¡¯s father had swarmed throughout the palace¡¯s walls in hushed voices for as long as the child has been alive, but only voiced among the maids and the higher-ups once either the crown prince or the H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°uwere long out of earshot. Personally, Kyuhe subscribed to the theory that the boy¡¯s father was Commander F¨¥ng of the Bilithgoric army. Most who doubt the theory¡¯s validity claim the fact that both the Army Commander and the crowned prince shared the same last name wasn¡¯t enough evidence, considering a lot of people in Bilithgorn share the same last name, but those fools have not caught a glimpse of the man or how the two interacted. Both of them bore a striking amount of physical similarity to one another and had a father-son-like relationship with Commander F¨¥ng arriving to the palace after seasons of training in the north with new cookbooks-in-hand for K¨£i who happily accepted the gift as though he physically needed the book.

    But, if Commander F¨¥ng truly was K¨£i¡¯s father, then why wouldn¡¯t he save his son from this situation? Was something holding him back? Or did he just not care? That conundrum always puzzled Kyuhe and made him second guess his belief in the theory.

    As though in much thought, H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°uXi¨´y¨©ng finally nodded her head. ¡°Good.¡± She carefully strolled over to Kyuhe¡¯s soldiers and surveyed each and every one of them as she walked side to side. ¡°I will like to inform you all of something before you go. Just a small reminder.¡± She let out a chuckle and playfully tapped the masks. ¡°If I receive word that there is an ounce of perfidious within any of your ranks, not only will the traitor¡¯s family not receive their extra rations and money,¡± she suddenly grabbed the closest soldier by the throat and sunk all five of her talon-like nails into their flesh, ¡°but also everyone else¡¯s families will have a spear rammed up their asses and displayed in the capital¡¯s square like those dissenters. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    Kyuhe was about to burst into a rage, however, upon seeing every one of his soldiers nodding their heads vigorously with horror-filled eyes, his anger suddenly simmered down. With a smile her face, the Tigress released her hold of the innocent solider and allowed the fabric to slip through her talons-like finger nails like running water; she turned over to Commander Song with the usual glare she wore and said, ¡°Let them out. I¡¯m tired of waiting.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    He gritted his teeth. If he allowed his fury to show itself, that¡¯ll spell disaster for not only himself but for his troops as well. Not only did they not deserve that, but he too had much at stake for it to simply go all to waste now. His steel-grey eyes narrowed begrudgingly as he bowed. ¡°As you wish, my H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°u,¡± Kyuhe replied.

    Just like his cousin ordered, he walked forward and, with each of his fingers bejeweled with larger cuts of pi¨¡of¨², whose lusty greenish hue radiated beyond their crystalline forms, Kyuhe tore away at the air with the slight clench of his fists that greatly resembled the harsh imagery of a tiger¡¯s claw; subservient to his movements, the green-speckled bricks that formed the wall levitated into the air and revealed the world outside the palace.

    The sun was high, but its warm touch was disrupted by the gust of cold, winter air. It was like a feather, trying its hardest to make him shiver but Kyuhe wouldn¡¯t yield. Admittedly though, it was a mighty foe, able to slip past the dense layers of his b¨¢onu¨£n sh¨ª-bedecked silks and lion-wolf furs that showered him in what felt like an eternal fire and strike him to the very bone like an ice serpent, but he merely acted as though it was but a cool, summer¡¯s breeze instead.

    A sudden delight filled his nose of what smelled like southern Tilithian spices. Quite savory and strong with a hint of sweetness, Kyuhe quickly noted before he returned his attention to his soldiers. One after another, he watched as they walked through his aperture, scaled the high palace walls and into the dense forest over yonder. It was quite saddening to see them go, but Kyuhe had done everything that he could. All they had to do was remember their training.

    As he drew his bejeweled hands near one another, the bricks that once levitated themselves in the air began to return to their original placement upon the wall. It was almost like a puzzle, with the smaller pieces working together with one another to refill in the whole picture.

    Sudden reverberations of boots clopping against the brick floor resembled that of horse shoes and they became more distant with each continuous clop; layers of silk fluttered along diligently like a pet. ¡°Come, K¨£i,¡± H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°uXi¨´y¨©ng ordered with sudden irritation. ¡°Let¡¯s go train.¡±

    Despite the word¡¯s usage, she wasn¡¯t fooling anyone. It was clear from the numerous scars that littered the Weapon Wielder of Bilithgorn¡¯s back that ¡°training¡± was the last thing that occurred. Surprisingly, however, the crowned prince didn¡¯t respond in the usual low, soft voice that was reserved for his mother. Frankly, he didn¡¯t respond at all. No quick shift of footwork bounced off the walls either.

    Is K¨£i actually defying his mother? Is this the moment where he¡¯ll finally say that two simple two-lettered word? Wanting to bear witness to this moment, Kyuhe turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for him to watch from the corner of his eye but not so noticeable that Xi¨´y¨©ng would notice.

    Hopefully.

    Covered in heavy panther-bear furs and golden-embroidered silks that wrapped around his body in a layered robe that reached down to his feet, the crowned prince stared down at the floor, his hands trembling with fear and tears beginning to sprout. By the time the plan goes into action in a little over a fortnight, he¡¯ll be eighteen, but in the presence of his mother like he was now, he reverted to a terrified child who still clung to his clothes for comfort. It was clear that he was scared out of his wits but nonetheless, he stood¨C

    A sudden dagger flew like a wind-rider and left a slash that ran from the edge of Kyuhe¡¯s ear to the crease of his nose. ¡°Mind your own business, Commander Song,¡± H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°uXi¨´y¨©ng roared viciously.

    Groaning, Commander Song clasped the left side of his face in pain. Bursts of blood gush down his front like a waterfall, slipping between the cracks of his fingers. However, none of that mattered right now. His stomach ached, running along with the thump, thump, thump, thump of his heart, as he feared what will become of him. Is this only the beginning of the end? Will Xi¨´y¨©ng order an investigation that¡¯ll unearth his involvement with the rebels? With Kwane and them? Anything was possible with someone as paranoid and unpredictable as the Tigress, Kyuhe knew.

    A single clop of a boot echoed behind him.

    ¡°F-forgive me, m¨¡,¡± a whisper-like voice spoke, welled with much fright, but as the ditty of footwork, quick as the wind, bounced off the walls, the voice continued, ¡°It seems a-as though I was in a bit of a daze and unable to hear your voice. A million pardons. C-come. Let¡¯s go train. Forget about cousin.¡±

    ¡°Hmph,¡± was the only response the H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°ugave; a low grunt that barely restrained her wild temper. It wasn¡¯t a mystery as to what she had in store for K¨£i.

 I - Alvalar

    A kiss graced his cheek, sweet and gentle though fleeting. ¡°Good Morning, Al,¡± a husky voice yawned out.

    Alvalar¡¯s heart stirred into a warm buzz like that of a busy honeybee. He turned away from the sketch that he¡¯s been working since the sun had risen and followed his betrothed as he ambled toward the coffee maker with his eyes. Despite looking as though he had just risen out of bed in his knickers with only a vague sense of tiredness, Alvalar knew that Karollus would¡¯ve greatly enjoyed another hour or two of sleep. He wasn¡¯t a morning person.

    Inheriting his father¡¯s high-born Athesanian looks of the famed Rudas clan and coupled with an stocky build that continues to get put to use in his parents¡¯ bakery, Karollus looked like he could¡¯ve once been a warrior-king in a former life with his toned ebony body and the fighting skills to prove it. His teal eyes were as gorgeous as the year-old K¨¦k¨¦ tattoo that cascaded down his back, illustrating Nakoi with deer antlers and sapphire-blue scales as she protectively coiled her massive draconic body around his betrothed the same way she protected those human children of hers hundreds of lifetimes ago.

    wheek¡­

    Karollus rummaged through the cupboard and after he grabbed his favorite Guardian Beast mug depicting a battalion of Giant Fire Ants crawling down the trunks of trees, and poured in a sea of still warm coffee, he let out a gentle sigh. Sleepy-eyed, Karollus held the earthenware vessel snuggly between his hands, hoping that the coffee¡¯s warmth can keep him awake. How cute, Alvalar thought with a giggle. Watching his betrothed shuffle his feet against the ground, listening to the way the engagement earrings that clung onto Karollus¡¯s ear sang its symphony of festive jingles that accompanied the gentle shakes of his Ul¡¯dalir beads, Alvalar couldn¡¯t help but breathe a gentle sigh as well. He didn¡¯t want this moment to end. It was too perfect. He would give anything to keep it like this...

    Wheek...

    With the brightest of smiles he could muster, Alvalar scooted out of his seat and met his fianc¨¦ halfway, pecking his cheek as he was too preoccupied enjoying his drink. ¡°G¡¯morning, mi amor,¡± he replied cheerily.

    Karollus finished drinking a gulp of this morning¡¯s brew and reciprocated the smile. First, he slid a thick lock of braided hair behind his ear then reached for Alvalar¡¯s right engagement earring, twirling its chain around his finger playfully. ¡°My, aren¡¯t you full of energy this morning.¡± He pressed his lips against Alvalar¡¯s; his lips were bitter from the coffee-

    WHEEK!

    Alvalar groaned at Misu¡¯s highest pitched wheek yet and pressed a pillow against his ear with hopes to block them out. If it were only that easy¡­ No matter what he did to ignore them, it was futile. They just continually came back, each one louder than the one that preceded it like she saw the entire thing as a challenge. Now undisputedly awake, he found himself crestfallen to find that it was all a dream, but also irritated that her squeals just had to disrupt it. Couldn¡¯t he just have this? Is that so hard? His chest suddenly felt heavy and that was the final straw; either get up like she wanted or be smothered on his eighteenth birthday.

    Seething with anger to the point of having tendrils of steam erupt from his palms, Alvalar kicked off his cover and was about to go on a scolding tirade when he looked at his caliber¡¯s enormous leonine visage, into those big green eyes of hers, and all the irritation steam that was just brewing a second ago had simply vanished into thin air. He tried to muster his anger once more; Misu needed to be disciplined, but that disappeared too.

    This was all a part of Misu¡¯s plan, he told himself. She was just too cute to get mad at, and she knows it. Exhaling a suspire of tiredness, he began to run his fat fingers across his calibress¡¯ luscious chocolate coat. ¡°You won this round, Misu. But you shouldn¡¯t be using your size-shifting powers like that, okay? You could¡¯ve killed me. You know this. You aren¡¯t a cub anymore.¡±

    Misu didn¡¯t even seem to be listening. She was treating his words like they were nothing but background noise as she sung a melody of low rumbling noises from the depths of her throat while she rolled her body from side to side. The noises were like that of a car engine off in the distance, steady and full of content.

    Alvalar pinched his fingertips against the bridge of his nose and shook his head. ¡°Who taught you to act this way, huh?¡± He crossed his arms angrily.

    As though to answer the question for him, Misu stopped her humming and rolling, stared at him and let out a grunt.

    ¡°I know. Don¡¯t remind me,¡± he answered back with slight irritation. ¡°Just¡­ Just don¡¯t do it next time, okay?¡±

    His caliber took a longer time to respond, like she was contemplating whether she was going to actually listen to his plea. After what felt like a century, Misu finally rose and ran her massive sand-paper tongue across her owner¡¯s face. Alvalar laughed and when he was done wiping off her slobber, he opened his eyes and saw that she shrunk down into her false form; about the size of a male hare and as sleek and agile as a cat, Misu leaped onto her owner¡¯s shoulder and clung onto his shirt with the help of her claws. She even wrapped her tail around his neck for good measure. She hasn¡¯t done that since she was a cub¡­ Feeling a wave of nostalgic, Alvalar patted her side and began to stretch out his own sore muscles as best as he could, especially the ones in his right hand. The sorer it is, the harder it is to draw up concept designs for his father¡¯s clients.

    Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew in and the clatter of paper echoed throughout his room. When he turned, Alvalar¡¯s eyes widened in pure horror. His window was open wide and the pieces of concept art that he had just finished this morning, sitting underneath a stack of books, were just blowing in the wind as though they were trying to wiggle themselves free. The concept sketches might¡¯ve held down by five of the most sturdiest Mugiwara volumes he had in his collection, but that wasn¡¯t enough. He spent all morning to get them just right, but most importantly, they had Misu¡¯s approval licks, assuring him that the designs had great promise. Those licks were what gave him confidence and quelled his self-doubt; he was not going to be taking any chances.

    Sliding his Idro and Ezra beads onto his wrist after kissing them, Alvalar rushed out of his bed and secured the sketches. With the designs now in his grasp, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Idro and Ezra, he thought. Out from the corner of his eye, he noticed Misu¡¯s short, rounded ears focus in on the open window curiously. Her speckled nose wiggled some, taking in the aroma of something she found not only juicy, but also of high-quality.

    ¡°What is it, mi nina?¡± he asked his calibress.

    Silently, Misu jumped onto the windowsill and peered out. Alvalar followed her line of sight, albeit a little puzzled. Situated on a field of sun-burned grass and a great distance behind his house sat a heavy cluster of stalls, huddling near the local Zahrah jungle that bordered his rural Navasarian town of Esperanza, and an overwhelming amount of people were stalking its grounds - families, business owners from the other side of town, even old classmates and teachers that Alvalar had once seen on a regular basis had all seemed to be enjoying themselves as they took in the sights, smells, tastes and sounds of everything that were on offer with much glee. Their excitement suited the constantly hot, summer-like climate that made the Kingdom of Navasar famous as a popular tourist spot, especially in the middle of winter like it is now.

    As Alvalar watched the merriment of others, he quickly found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Karollus. No doubt he¡¯ll would be out there, helping his family¡¯s business¡­ Letting out a sigh and running his fingers through his hair, feeling his long tight curls against the shaved down sides of his undercut didn¡¯t stop his heart from aching, but the sudden realization that today was the Coronation Day for the next Navasarian Weapon Wielder, his Tio Alejandro¡¯s successor and reincarnation, did make the pain lighten slightly as he scurried about his room, preoccupying himself.

    Misu hopped down from her perch atop the windowsill and watched as her owner traded his sweats for more proper clothes while cursing himself for being so absent-minded. How could he have forgotten? Today was the day that his father was constantly reminding him of and yet he still had forgotten? Considering the fact that the Weapon Wielders could easily outlast any regular human, this is once and a life-time event! When his Tio Alejandro was announced to be the 74<sup>th</sup> Weapon Wielder of Navasar on Coronation Day and given Inferno, the sword that every other Navasarian Weapon Wielder before him wielded and could amplify their already innate fire-manipulating abilities, people still doubted him, saying that he was a thief or an imposter all because he was born a Navi. ¡°You were born a slave and you¡¯ll die as one, but you won¡¯t live as the Weapon Wielder of Navasar,¡± they said, but Alejandro didn¡¯t listen. He was ambitious and confident and as stubborn as a mule, but that only made Alvalar admire his uncle even more. He was the man that abolished the slavery of all Navi throughout the four realms with the help of the other three Weapon Wielders and his little brother Smoke, Alvalar¡¯s father-figure.

    Whoever ends up being recognized as Tio¡¯s successor tonight, Alvalar thought, I only asked that they don¡¯t taint his great legacy.

    After buttoning up the fireball-like golden studs of his work jerkin, red with a black striped trim, over an amber long-sleeved shirt, and adjusting his brown breeches for a final time, Alvalar finally threw on his cloak. Now all he needed was his boots. He took a seat at the edge of his bed and carefully folded up the sketches before stashing them in his pocket. ¡°Misu,¡± he whistled. ¡°Bring me my boots. The one that Papi brought me a couple of years back¨C si, eso. Venga aqui, mi ninita.¡± Having shifted back into her true form, Misu held the pair of boots with the help of her massive teeth and brought them over to him. ¡°Muy bien.¡±

    Hearing words of praise, Misu dropped them at his feet and was waiting for a pat with much excitement. Alvalar reached for his furred boots that his father brought back from a business trip to the Northern Kingdom of Athesan but he was nearly swatted at by Misu¡¯s hand-sized paw and razor-sharp claws. Pat first then boots, Misu seemed to order as she hissed at him, ears back.

    Alvalar relented and gave the pat that his caliberess so adamantly demanded for, to which Misu promptly let out a content-filled roar then sprawled her body out on the floor, beginning to lick at her paws and stomach. Now that the beast was quelled, Alvalar grabbed the boots and began to ease up the laces. Right after he had just finished sliding in his right foot, his door let out a sudden thump.

    Misu stopped her licking and growled cautiously at the noise while Alvalar jumped. The door slowly creaked open and revealed his mother, M¨¦rida, dressed in her usual long, deep red dress. Her Eridesi beads, the Patron Ancestor to Parents and Family that provided his mother with advice whenever she was in need of it, were a band of pink and white that bound themselves snuggly round her wrist while her fingers were bejeweled with levitaci¨®n rings; the filled clothing hamper, radiating the same green glow as her rings, hovered above the ground beside her.

    Alvalar had his mother¡¯s smile and her tight brown curls, but aside from that, he barely resembled her in the slightest. He was lighter-skinned in comparison and his large, upturned eyes were of chestnut ¨C traits that he possibly inherited from his bastard of a biological father. Any man that abandons their partner at the revelation of pregnancy is worse than trash, and his biological father was no better. Thankfully, he had Smoke in his life, however Alvalar would¡¯ve much preferred to have his mother¡¯s complexion as well as her spindly frame, that way people wouldn¡¯t have given his mother a hard time when he was younger and he wouldn¡¯t have to deal being heavyset anymore; everyone told him that he is skinny now, that he looked good and was handsomer, but they were nothing more than lies...

    Having descended from Athesanians who settled in Navasar long ago when it was once a colony of the Athesanian Empire and having married the local Navasarian men and women over many generations, M¨¦rida sported sienna-brown complexion and almond-shaped blue eyes that always had the sense of knowing all things, but they didn¡¯t sparkle like beautiful sapphires against the noon sun like they usually did. Behind her thickly rimmed spectacles, they seemed to only flare with anger instead. ¡°?¨¢lvalar Ignacio Leal, yo siempre te estoy diciendo que limpies tu cuarto, pero siempre lo dejas regado!¡± Gesturing the hamper to float toward his bed in one hand, she picked up two mismatched socks with the other and waved them about, displaying ¡°the mess¡± she so firmly hated.

    He wasn¡¯t ready for this storm of complaining. Not today. With the quick smack of his lips, Alvalar growled, ¡°Co?o, t¨² eres pesa. Muy dram¨¢tica. Callate.¡±

    Almost as though she was able to smell the sudden shift in tension, Misu rose and quickly rubbed her enormous body against M¨¦rida and then Alvalar. Her soft fur tickled his arm as it went back and forth, trying to ease the foulness, but her owner didn¡¯t budge and neither did his mother.

    M¨¦rida¡¯s eyes narrowed, and her voice went even higher. ¡°?Que que?¡± With her head and palm raised slightly, she took a step closer. ¡°?Hay algo que t¨² quieres decir? ?Dale, dimelo! Si eres hombre, dimelo, pero, que no te sorprenda si te doy un cocotazo!¡±

    Hearing his mother¡¯s words, Alvalar suddenly regretted voicing his thoughts and cursed himself for being such an idiot as his arms quickly flail about. ¡°?N-no!¡± he exclaimed, stuttering. ¡°Nada. Ay, Nada. P-perd¨®name, mam¨¢.¡±

    Glaring into her son¡¯s eyes for a moment or two, M¨¦rida eventually huffed out a grunt and trailed over to his bed without another word. Her fingers fluttered like a bird¡¯s wings, leaving the hamper to fall and make a simple bounce onto his mattress. Alvalar exhaled a sigh of relief as he heard her begin to organize his clothes. Crisis adverted, he thought and slid his left foot into the other boot.

    He leaned over and began to tie his laces, gripping the latchet tightly. By the time he was done and began to work on the other boot, his mother raised her voice once again; this time, it was much her usual calmer and gentler tone. Her temper always fizzled out quite quickly, almost like she felt guilty for getting mad. ¡°So, how was your nap? Was it good?¡±

    Alvalar didn¡¯t answer. His grip around the boot¡¯s laces tighten once more.

    ¡°Was it about Karollus again?¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    His gaze lowered and felt his grip on his laces weaken. Alvalar knew it was futile lying to her. She always saw right through him, so he relented instead and gave a nod. His hands suddenly felt weak and the bootlace fell onto the floor while he hung his head. ¡°It¡¯s hard, mam¨¢,¡± he sighed. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t be, but I¡¯m still in love with him. Every time I think of him, my heart hurts. Heck, every time I try to get over him and preoccupy myself with something else, it still hurts.¡±

    The bed suddenly creaked and the rough bristles of a brush started to run its little fingers from his scalp all the way down to his split ends. Ever since he was a kid, his mother would start to do his hair whenever he was stressed, saying that he¡¯ll feel better in the end due to it being a calming, bonding moment. It might be weird and out of the blue, but it was indeed a soothing and relaxing experience. ¡°I know, hijo,¡± she said, collecting his tight curls as much as she could and continued to comb her son¡¯s hair in layers. ¡°I know getting over someone is hard. You two have been together for four years, so it¡¯s going to take longer than half a season, but maybe this break up is only temporary. Maybe you¡¯ll get back together once you see him today and you two talk it out!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just what you want,¡± he grumbled.

    ¡°But isn¡¯t it what you want too?¡± she quickly replied. Her tone was playful and somewhat cheeky.

    Not expecting his mother¡¯s response, Alvalar¡¯s face suddenly felt hot and he smiled despite himself. He tried to produce an answer, any answer, whether it went against his real feelings or not, but right when he felt like they were on the tip of his tongue, his ability to speak suddenly disappeared, reducing him to having his mouth open and surely looking like a fool. He hated when this happened. He rammed his boot onto the floor and slammed a steaming fist on the mattress, the only other way he could voice his frustration about this humiliating situation.

    Eventually arranging her son¡¯s hair into a tight top-knot, M¨¦rida climbed over the mattress and sat beside Alvalar. With his mother leaning his head against her bosom and rubbing his shoulder, Misu walked over and placed her heavy head in his lap. She looked concerned, or was she laughing at him? Alvalar wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± M¨¦rida whispered into her son¡¯s ear. ¡°Relax. Take a deep breath and clear your head. It¡¯s okay. I won¡¯t leave.¡±

    Alvalar wanted to shout at her. Of course, he knew what he wanted to say. His words didn¡¯t escape him. They didn¡¯t leave his mind either. They were right there on the tip of his tongue, right within reach, but not being able to vocalize them made him feel all the more frustrated. It was like he was blocked from assessing those words even though they were his own. He must¡¯ve looked foolish with his mouth hanging open accompanied with a frozen expression. Despite vigorously patting his thigh to hurry himself to speak, the words still didn¡¯t come and the memory of the bullying he endured began to resurface.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, mute? If you want your comic book back, then just say so,¡± Jorge would snicker out, holding up Alvalar¡¯s Mugiwara volume high in the air, while Alvalar would be in the middle of his speech block. He stood there, mouth open with a frozen expression. His mind was yelling him to speak and to be quick with it, but his lips just stood there as ridged as a corpse.

    ¡°Oh, you can¡¯t? Well, then I guess it belongs to us now,¡± Alexi added, pulling and yanking Alvalar¡¯s hair, and a whole flurry of laughter would ignite. The twins Levy and Biembe wandered over to Alvalar¡¯s maleta and dumped everything that was inside. Paper flew as freely as a bird while books crashed to the floor.

    ¡°These too,¡± Levy continued, picking up the design book that housed the weapons and other metal work that Smoke¡¯s clients wanted. Biembe took the book from his twin brother and roughly turned the pages. He peered at pages as though mildly impressed, but suddenly, without any sort of warning, began to tear up the pages that Alvalar worked so hard on.

    ¡°And this too.¡± Biembe continued to tear out pages while Levy turned them into flakes that he threw up into the air and had them fall like snow. ¡°If only you could speak, mute.¡±

    Tears began to swell. Alvalar had enough of this; if he couldn¡¯t speak then he just had to act. He pushed Alexi¡¯s hand away and gave him a headbutt. Alvalar¡¯s head ached but not as much as Alexi¡¯s; he was holding his head, groaning in pain. The other two, the twins Levy and Biembe, were so surprised that they were frozen stiff, dropping the book. Taking advantage of this moment, Alvalar rushed past them and toward Jorge, getting ready to throw a punch, putting all of his weight into it as possible, but his punch didn¡¯t connect. Jeorge was just so fast that he simply cocked his head to the side, missing the punch entirely and returned with a punch of his own. It was so fast that Alvalar couldn¡¯t even see it, let alone dodge it; he fell to the floor and found that a stream of blood rushing down his nose. It stung and ached, but by the time he wiped away the scarlet stream and got back on his feet, the pain simply vanished and the blood had hardened.

    Alvalar shifted, emulating the way Karollus would keep his legs bent with his fists close to his body whenever he got into fights, but it felt strange. He wasn¡¯t used to this. He had never been in a fight before, something that Jorge could sense very well and threw the Mugiwara volume in the trash can. The four men began to close in like they were a pack of snake-wolves readying their forces to ambush an adult ground sloth. It was hard to keep an eye on them. First, they were here and then they were there and now they are over ther¨C

    Suddenly, a strong kick resonated at Alvalar¡¯s side. Before he could even turn, he received another swift punch to the face, pushing him down once again. The pummeling to his face was relentless. They came like pounding rain, one after another, but then it stopped suddenly. Thankful, Alvalar was finally able to catch his breath and slowly turned his head. His vision was out of focus, however, when it cleared up, Alvalar saw Karollus had arrive and was delivering justice. He was sweaty and his Academy doublet was messy by the time he was done, but Karollus didn¡¯t care; he helped Alvalar up and gave him a kiss. Everything ached, yet with Karollus¡¯s strong arms wrapped around him, he never felt safer.

    Remembering those days, as well as the days when the pair would go on dates to the book store on the other side of town, pouring over the beautifully illustrated Guardian Beast cards and Mugiwara comics; the times Karollus would encourage him and give him confidence whenever Alvalar was feeling low; or the fun times they had battling one another in the living room while mam¨¢ was preparing an old Leal family recipe that dated back to their distant K¨¦k¨¦ ancestors, Karollus would slam either The Bombs of the Phoenix or The Thunderous roar of the Lion-Hawk down and Alvalar would be nervously shuffling his cards, searching for The Hungry Zahrah or The Impregnable World Turtle Shell to control the effects and maintain his army, all left Alvalar teary-eyed. He just wanted those days to come back, to return to the way things used to be.

    Misu suddenly began to lick away her owner¡¯s tears one by one like they were raindrops rolling down the windowsill. When she was done, he looked at her once more and she, indeed, wasn¡¯t patronizing him. She gently licked his nose. M¨¦rida let go of her hold on her son and Misu immediately rested her chin onto his shoulder. She even began to sing a symphony of softly-tuned wheeks into his ear. Unlike before, he didn¡¯t find them annoying. They were comforting, and it didn¡¯t take long before Alvalar found himself smiling again. When he wrapped his arms around his calibress¡¯ neck and held her close, Misu was just overjoyed; her long, slender tail wouldn¡¯t stop wagging!

    When he was done giving her a hug, Alvalar scratched his caliber¡¯s cheek and began to pat the mattress, using the rhythm to help him produce speech once again. ¡°O-o-of course,¡± he stammered. He hated it when he stammered as well, but he wasn¡¯t going to complain now. ¡°I want to get back t-t-t-together with him, but¡­¡± he stopped on purpose, not wanting to voice the thought that was wiggling in his head.

    " ''But you aren¡¯t so sure that Karollus wants to, so you don¡¯t want to put your hopes up¡¯. Is that it?¡± M¨¦rida voiced his thought out loud.

    Hearing his mother say it, however, eased the pain slightly. It was cathartic even. ¡°You hit it right on the head.¡±

    M¨¦rida let out a deep sigh. ¡°That¡¯s how it is in the beginning. All those feelings of uncertainty, regret and pining circling around¡ª everyone experiences that. It¡¯s normal. Getting over someone isn¡¯t as easy as many people like to think, especially when you¡¯ve been with someone for as long as you¡¯ve been with Karollus¡­ but like I said, you never know. Maybe he regrets it and he want to get back together too but just doesn¡¯t know how to say it.¡±

    Alvalar turned to his mother. ¡°Don¡¯t you think your being overly optimistic?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think your being overly pessimistic?¡± she quipped back with her hands on her hips.

    Alvalar let out a chuckle and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. ¡°That¡¯s how I always am, if you haven¡¯t noticed.¡±

    M¨¦rida smiled. ¡°I¡¯m very well aware of that.¡± She laughed and tapped his nose. ¡°Pessimistic and low self-esteem, that¡¯s you, but don¡¯t worry. You won¡¯t be like that forever, Alvalar. One day, you¡¯ll be as confident as a lion, you¡¯ll see.¡±

    Alvalar snickered. That lion must be as small as ant then, he thought, but he didn¡¯t voice it. If he did, she¡¯ll just start complaining again; ¡°Stop putting yourself down,¡± she will say. ¡°Your capable of so much more.¡± They were beyond annoying. Whatever she saw in him, he didn¡¯t and always ascribed those words to that fact that she was his mother. Despite her words being utterly biased, that didn¡¯t mean all of them were. Some were wise, giving him some rays of hope and for that, he was grateful. ¡°Thank you, mam¨¢,¡± he told her.

    M¨¦rida cupped her son¡¯s face and looked him in the eyes. Her blue eyes moved from side to side like they always did, looking as though they were reading him like a book. Knowing his mother, she probably was, but that didn¡¯t bother him in the slightest. His book was probably boring anyway. ¡°Por nada, mi ni?o,¡± she replied softly with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for getting mad at you earlier.¡±

    Looking at the way she forgave him just like that with such a caring expression on her face made Alvalar feel like a horrible son. He shook his head in disagreement and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. ¡°No. I¡¯m the one who should be apologizing. I¡­ just woke up with Misu trying to smother me, so I wasn¡¯t in the greatest of moods. I¡¯m sorry too, for talking back and being disrespectful. You don¡¯t deserve that.¡± He gave his mother a kiss.

    M¨¦rida kissed her son too. ¡°No matter what, Alvalar, I¡¯ll always forgive you.¡± She then patted his side and gestured toward the door. ¡°Go on. Your going to be late.¡±

    ¡°I know. I should be getting a move on. Coronation Day is bound to make everyone busy.¡± Alvalar turned to his caliber. ¡°You ready, Misu?¡± he called, patting his thighs all excitedly. ¡°You ready, girl? You ready?¡±

    Misu chirped happily as a bird and ran towards the door. Alvalar laughed and ran after her. He heard his mother yell at them from upstairs, warning them that they¡¯ll fall down the stairs if they go too fast. She can get too overprotective at times.

    Misu was the first one to reach the kitchen and she immediately ran to her water bowl, lapping up the iced water, not caring how the water spilled over and made a mess. Alvalar hurriedly began to clean up the mess, knowing that his mother would complain again if he didn¡¯t, and took in the intoxicatingly delicious smell of the ajiaco that was brewing in the large calor-piedra pot on the floor while large earthenware jars filled with grains of rice, seasonings, fermented vegetables and beans lined the walls. The beef, the chicken, even the little cuts of carrots and corn and yucca boiling away, getting coated in that light bone-flavored broth¡­ Oh, how he wanted to eat it all, but he mustn¡¯t. He must have self-control it!

    And so, with a great breath, Alvalar made his way to the calor-piedra pot where he laid the now damp cloth nearby to dry, but the journey was more like hell than he would like to admit. As he made his way over, he continually found his eyes being pulled over to the incandescent red fragments that endowed the pot, allowing it to provide heat all on its own, and could hear the bubbling stew begin to call out to him, trying to seduce him into taking a sip. Just a little sip, they whispered. Come on, a little sip wouldn¡¯t hurt, now would it? You know you want to, so relax, take a sip or even better, fill a bowl with yucca, chicken, beef, carrots, a small cob of corn and have them all swimming in an ocean of broth! Each second seemed longer and more torturous than the last but he must endure it unless he wanted to purge the contents of his stomach for the third time today. Wait¡­ was it the third time? Or was it the fifth? Now he wasn¡¯t sure anymore.

    However, once he noticed Ezra¡¯s effigy and the aquamanile of Wuotan, Ezra¡¯s one-eyed snake-wolf companion and beloved mentor, on an isolated lot in the corner, Alvalar could feel his anxiety and the tempting voices leave him for a short while. He knew that they¡¯ll surely come back but right now, they were gone and that was truly liberating.

    Despite being one of the Patron Ancestors, tutelary deities of the Navasarian people, Ezra¡¯s effigy was rather plain, or that¡¯s what Alvalar recalled people saying as they criticized her appearance, calling for the clay statue of a woman with her arms out, revealing the cuts of deep red garnet that decorated her palms, to be more glamorous, but anything more than this would get him on her bad side. Ezra hated vanity above all else.

    Taking a seat in front of the holy pair, Alvalar picked up the aquamanile that was carved in Wuotan¡¯s likeness, each strand of fur carefully created one stroke after another, covering his large body in its velvety embrace, except for his elegant snake tail, and began to pour the water that laid inside over Ezra¡¯s statue.

    Scriptures say that Ezra and Wuotan got separated during an unusually horrid rainstorm that brought about disastrous landslides but that didn¡¯t stop them searching for one another. Nights were spent calling out the other¡¯s name while the days would be spent asking around; Wuotan would ask any animals he came across and Ezra would ask any nearby villagers while she was out collecting medicinal herbs for patients. Unfortunately, they never reunited, but once Alvalar set Wuotan down beside his most studious pupil, it was as though the pair finally found each other again.

    While the water was still streaming down the effigy like rain slowly tumbling down a windowsill, Alvalar began to pray for good health. With Ezra¡¯s garnet-colored beads wrapped around his wrist, serving as both a bridge and communication tool between the two worlds ¨C the realm of the Patron Ancestors and the humans who worshipped them ¨C he knew his prayer will be received without any problem.

    When he was finished praying, he called Misu. It took until he was near the backyard door for her to finally come, and when she did, her chin was dripping water across the floor. Alvalar laughed and hurried out of the house with his trusty caliber in toe.

    The clangs of cowbells against the feverish drumming of conga and bonga drums were at first like a distant whisper but the closer he and Misu got to the cluster of stalls near the woods, the drumming and clanging became much more vibrant and louder that it was though the music was screaming. Atop their levitaci¨®n-piedra powered platform, hovering them high in the air, it was as though the musicians were more concerned with not having their music be drowned out by the crowd¡¯s chatter than falling off, and boy was there a crowd! The size of the throng was like a horde of starling-bats in the height of spring passing through the night, nearly blotting out the moon from view and lighting up the night with their maddening chatter!

    As he traversed through the chaos, he began to wonder how if he was ever going to be able to find Smoke¡¯s stall in this mess¡­ however as he watched adults clutter around the food stalls, enjoying plates of freshly made congri con picadillo y malanga, heard the shouts of vendors, advertising their goods and locally-grown produce in Athaese, and moved out of the way as the local gangs of rambunctious children ran with their dog-otters and bear-dogs through the dense crowd with their giggling and laughter in the air, practically beaming with excitement about today¡¯s f¨ºte, Alvalar felt his worries fade away amidst all the buzz. This day was truly once and a lifetime!

    ¡°Hey, Alvalar,¡± a familiar voice called. ¡°Hey Misu.¡± It might¡¯ve been muffled by all the cheering and laughter by the crowd, but to Alvalar, it was as clear as the sense of heat in the air.

    Alvalar stopped right in his tracks and turned his head towards the voice so quickly that when he caught a glimpse of Karollus up ahead, he saw that his former lover was in the middle of trying to stifle back the cutest laugh while waving hello to them at his parent¡¯s stall. Wasting no time, Misu dashed right over to Karollus like she hadn¡¯t seen him in years. When she wrapped her giant paws around his neck and licked his face, Karollus couldn¡¯t stifle back the laughter any longer and ran his fingers through her short fur. As he caught glimpses of his former lover¡¯s laughter from afar, Alvalar¡¯s heart went aflutter.

    Maybe what mam¨¢ said about talking to him is true¡­ he thought with much hope. With a clench of his fist and the roaring flames of determination burning in his chest, Alvalar started to make his way over. Each step he took, inching ever so closer, also blossomed a feeling of nervousness. His stomach became a battle ground of pain. I have this one chance to restrike life into what we once had¡­ I better not mess up this up.

 II - Zayd

    No matter the supposed intricacy of the light fabric that cascaded down the gazebo¡¯s allegedly large borders or the protection it provided against the sun¡¯s stinging rays and those vampiric mosquitoes, it was inutile in combating today¡¯s oppressive weather. The moon charts might¡¯ve declared it the middle of winter, but no semblance of frigid winds blew through Panjkora. Rather, it was more like the torrid peak of a mid-summer¡¯s day to Zayd as he sat within the ancient structure¡¯s swathed walls together with the Eight Elders in the middle of the Naraum¡¯s sand garden, waiting for lunch to arrive.

    Rivers of sweat, each twisting and turning aimlessly, made his clothes and hair cling to him like water to sand. With a dried throat, he decided to pray to Asaky in his head instead. O¡¯ Oxi of the eastern winds and horses, the rumination went. One of the many Primordial Masters, please send a gust of cool, gentle air toward Panjkora. Zayd flapped the looser articles of his tightly-bound Zaipha robes, hoping to conjure a large breeze that could soothe the heat for a while until waiting for Asaky replied to the orison, but nothing arose from his fussing. Nothing that was strong enough to dry up the rivers anyway. And people say being born the Weapon Wielder of Tilith are filled with privileges and opportunity?

    While there were certainly cases where that statement rained true, especially with predecessors like K¡¯lhar the Iron Warlord of Setryk who was born into a life of poverty until he was recognized as the 46<sup>th</sup> Tilithian Weapon Wielder at the age of ten, being highly sensitive to the temperatures ¨C hot or cold ¨C was definitely not a privilege. It was more like a curse that he didn¡¯t wish upon anyone. Not even that traitorous wench Cixi deserved this.

    On days like this where the humidity hovered and followed Zayd wherever he went, his complexion shifted from a perfectly nice, dark brown to a boisterous red in a matter of seconds and caused his skin to crack. What¡¯s worse is this heat was causing him the inability to focus on what Eight Elders were discussing with one another. Discussion that, as the Zaipha, he should not only be attentive in, but also be actively engaging in. It¡¯s not every day where all the Elders gather in one place.

    After taking in a difficult breath, Zayd brushed off another rushing river of sweat that ran from brow to jaw, but it was quickly replaced by what felt like a dozen more, all slithering about, crawling over his top-surgery scars; sliding down his spine; gathering in his inner elbow; dripping from the tip of his nose; collecting within the thin crevasse of the Kashan platinum band that surround his neck. They were everywhere and they weren¡¯t going to leave anytime soon. Then his stomach grumbled for food, only furthering his aggravation. Why can¡¯t the heat just let him be? Why must it torture him? Why must it prevent him from doing what is expected of him? Why must it always be him that suffers under this sweltering heat? Why?

    The Zaipha must be proper and pose, his personal mantra rung in his head. Zayd released a sigh of begrudging acceptance and transformed his face into an expression of utter neutrality, suppressing any previous feelings. Any anger from him could not only taint his image as the equanimous yet stringent Zaipha that he¡¯s managed to cultivate over many years, but also cause an earthquake: two things he didn¡¯t want.

    But the heat just won¡¯t leave¡­

    Suddenly, the fabric that hung over the gazebo made a slight quiver of movement, and the continuous ditty of the lower-ranked namkitas¡¯ anklets greeted the Zaipha¡¯s ears. Jingle, jingle, jangle, the noise went. By attentively following the noise, the Tilithian Weapon Wielder was able to make sense of where all the servants were going as they moved about within the vicinity, no special glasses needed.

    The Elders stopped speaking, Zayd suddenly realized and adjusted his posture on the soft rug, giving the impression that he was paying attention the entire time like the Zaipha he was.

    Having gone blind at the tender age of five after an arduous and long fever slowly ate away at his sight day by day after being bitten by a virus-infected stone flea while he was out playing with the other kids in a patch of damp sand, colors blended together for as long as he could remember. He forgot what it was like to have sight, so while this might be normal, the added blurring haze in his vision didn¡¯t make navigating the world any less tricky. By wearing the pair of special glasses that he received once under the protection of Panjkora¡¯s Naraum at the age of ten, however, Zayd was able to make out that a namkita was in his general vicinity; whether they were right in front of him or a few steps away however, he wasn¡¯t exactly sure. Though they were appreciated, the special glasses weren¡¯t exactly perfect and so he still kept his cane, all bundled up in his large, outer robe pocket.

    He reached out and was surprised to find that the servant was not only a male, but most importantly, right in front of him. The servant¡¯s hand was rough and heavily scared from working in the kitchen. Mounds of hardened skin grew over one another in what felt like a mountain range. Despite all the wear and tear, however, it felt quite nice at the same time as it told of the man¡¯s diligence¡­ Zayd felt his face go hot as he sheepishly glanced up at the man. From what could be made out, the servant wasn¡¯t bad looking either. His complexion was a lighter brown; his hair a river of dark brown sliding down what looked to be his shoulders while his eyes were blurry orbs of lime green¡­ or was it forest green?

    Unexpectedly, the namkita took Zayd¡¯s hand, causing the Tilithian Weapon Wielder¡¯s heart to flutter with excitement as the male namkita eased the alabaster cup over. ¡°Azer m¨¡¡¯ou Zaipha, algo e¡¯hasuob. Y¨£ken kanen gusto elg.¡± Here my Zaipha, something to drink. May you enjoy it. Though his Setryk burr was still present, his Panjkorian dialect was coming along nicely. Very nicely.

    Zayd smiled bashfully, securing his grip around the cup and bringing it closer to his chest. He¡¯s cute, he thought. Hopefully, he has a preference for men.

    ¡°It¡¯s some O¡¯kanjuu. Oasis spirits,¡± Elder Zamya, Overseer of Panjkora¡¯s Naraum, suddenly jumped in. ¡°I had some prepared for you, Zaipha Al-Faris, since you looked rather parched. I do hope you don¡¯t object to its smell; it can be rather strong the longer it¡¯s fermented. Gracias¡­.¡± Then, the tone of recollection suddenly quaked in her voice, ¡°Zaleal. Ah, Dem. Gracias, Zaleal. Forgive me. I have a hard time recalling new names at first. I¡¯ve had to remember so many in the past that it seems like my brain can¡¯t fit anymore.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Zaleal replied with a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Elder. I only started a few weeks ago. It¡¯s understandable.¡±

    Despite the light and cheeriness of the mood, having heard his title spoken by Elder Zamya stopped Zayd¡¯s wondering eyes from continuing their stroll. No Zaipha should be distracted by their attractions, gay or straight, he reminded himself. It¡¯ll only keep them away from their duties. Returning to his impassive ways, Zaipha Al-Faris gave Zaleal a slight nod, signaling that he was no longer needed and could return back to the Naraum¡¯s kitchen, and turned his attention over to the liquor.

    Just like Elder Zamya warned, the smell was overwhelmingly tangy that it was almost revolting, but he pushed on. As soon as the drink touched his tongue, Zayd realized that his prayer had answered. Not by Asaky, but by Naar, the Oxi of water, nightfall and death. Thanks to the zakroa¡¯zukae that jutted out from the base of the alabaster cup, it was as though the booze had been blessed by the water deity¡¯s frigid touch, not only chilling his body¡¯s temperature, but also returning his dark brown complexion. Afterward, the light taste of locally grown dates hung around for a moment, contributing just the right amount of sweetness before drifting off into the background. Unable to put the delicious beverage down, Zayd guzzled the alcohol like some type of parched sand jackal that finally found an oasis in the middle of Tilith¡¯s arid desert. Once the last drop was drunk, he slammed the cup down on the rug and gasped for air, thankful that Naar responded.

    Light laughter erupted from Elder Zamya, jolting back the Tilithian Weapon Wielder back to his senses. Her nasally voice rang with the same biased amusement that a gangii would find in whatever her grandson had done, good or bad. It was unlike the hardened general persona she dons during terraizing training, barking at him to keep his feet submerged in the iron-hot sand while practicing numerous rigid and unbreakable forms for hours on end. Reminiscing about the intense training made the soles of his feet grow hot, still aching from this morning¡¯s session¡­ Zamya¡¯s voice disappeared amidst her laughter but reappeared in a gentle sigh. ¡°I can see that your enjoying your alcohol, Zaipha Al-Faris. That¡¯s good to hear. Just don¡¯t get intoxicated now.¡±

    Shamefaced, Zayd smiled despite himself and placed the empty cup down on the rug next to him. ¡°C-chwey, it¡¯s was quite delicious, though smelly at first,¡± he intoned with a slight quirk of the mouth. Enamored by the liquor¡¯s coolness and taste, the Tilithian Weapon Wielder had forgotten where he was and who he was supposed to be. How un-Zaiphalike¡­ After collecting himself, Zaipha Al-Faris held a face as tight as stone and placed a clenched fist over his heart, making a deep obeisance. ¡°Perd¨®name.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Oh, Zayd¡­¡± Zamya called softly with the subtle click of her tongue. Her wrinkly fingers touched his chin and gently gestured his face upward. Despite their proximity, his sight wasn¡¯t any less blurry. The Overseer of Panjkora¡¯s Naraum had a deep bronze complexion and was seemingly of round proportions, had bright emerald green orbs for eyes and sharp white hair that draped over her shoulder. Her robes seemed to fit her nicely and looked to be of yellow silk; any of the finer details in her appearance, hand movements or facial expression were invisible. ¡°I was just teasing. O¡¯kanjuu doesn¡¯t have an especially high alcohol content, so you don¡¯t need to apologize.¡±

    The smacking of one¡¯s lips reverberated through the air a great distance away, filled with a sense of pity. ¡°Your Elder is right, Zaipha,¡± Elder Keiya of Karmoh, overseer to Zayd¡¯s Athaese language studies, joined in. ¡°You already stress yourself as much as it is. You could do with some relaxation. You have no need to be constantly prim and proper. People don¡¯t come to you for that, they come to you for guidance.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Elder Ahkios of K¡¯my spoke up, his accent thick like the thick woodlands that littered his homeland of Athesan.

    ¡°She¡¯s right. I might not agree with Elder Keiya often, but this is one of the rare occasions where I do. Zaipha Al-Faris, you have to stop being so uptight all the time,¡± Elder Hajji of Iro advised. He might¡¯ve lost the youthfulness of his voice long ago, but he hadn¡¯t lost the overwhelming sense of confidence in his words, something Zayd respected greatly. ¡°Even though you¡¯ve always been much more uptight than your previous incarnations like Omaya Bukhari, Uvax Pahravi, and Ishvalia Maniots, you need not to distance yourself from them to be a great Zaipha. In fact, you can learn something from them. It¡¯s okay to relax, to be goofy every once and a while. It might even help you in ways you wouldn¡¯t expect.¡±

    ¡°How? People don¡¯t come to me to be goofy,¡± Zayd responded, holding tightly to his convictions. ¡°Like you mentioned before, Elder Keiya, people come to me for guidance and in order to do so, one must be mature. And in my personal opinion, that is what the Zaipha should be ¨C someone who is void of playfulness and is mature enough to put the issue of others before themselves and their own problems for the overall betterment of society; someone who sees the bigger picture. Nobody comes to listen to my opinions on things, they seek advice from a strictly religious sense, and if that is what must be done in order to help people then so be it. I don¡¯t care if I¡¯m uptight.¡±

    ¡°You might be able to hear, but you aren¡¯t listening.¡± Elder Keiya let out a long disapproving sigh. ¡°You¡¯ve always been quite stone-headed¡­ Anyway, if it somehow eases you deep down, I was gobbling down my drink even twice as fast as you.¡±

    A merriment of laughter began to stir. ¡°She sure did! She was farther along the verge of dehydration than you, Zaipha Al-Faris,¡± Elder Ramarin of Orja confirmed behind the rings of giggles in his aging voice.

    ¡°Even after all of these years of coming down to the south to teach young Zaipha Al-Faris Athaese, she still can¡¯t get used to the heat,¡± Elder Zurik of Kmirah added.

    ¡°Aw, come now,¡± Elder Keiya murmured underneath her breath sheepishly. ¡°It¡¯s not all that funny. It¡¯s just not hot in Karmoh like it is down here in Panjkora, plus I only visit once a moon to review with the young Zaipha on his language studies, so can you honestly expect me to have gotten use to this heat?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Elder Yenkini of Setryk yelled out. Faint clangs of alabaster cups against one another rang along with a few more rounds of laughter.

    How childish, Zayd thought disapprovingly with a shake of his head. Hopefully, the other Weapon Wielders aren¡¯t as childish. Cixi, however, I could care less about that snake. She is no friend of mine anymore. Not now, not ever.

    A gruff cough broke through both Zayd¡¯s thoughts and the cries of mirth. ¡°While I agree with you, Elder Keiya, today is hardly the day where Zaipha Al-Faris should be relaxing,¡± Elder Kevry of Amareh spoke; his words grabbed the young Tilithian Weapon Wielder¡¯s attention despite the vast distance between them. ¡°I¡¯m sure you all can feel it like sand riding the eastern winds. Not only is today the anniversary of the Zaipha¡¯s birth, but people from all eight oasis¡¯ will be tuning in tonight to watch the Coronation Ceremony either from their screens or in person, though not all wish the young Weapon Wielder good fortune on his journey. Some hope to see him fail while others will be critiquing every movement he makes, good or bad. We all must be on our toes.¡±

    Zayd nodded the whole way through, agreeing with every one of Kevry¡¯s words. No matter what he does, he can never please those people. Due to his position as the Weapon Wielder of Tilith, they¡¯ll speak to him with either contempt or fear and then take everything out of proportion when once he speaks up in response, declaring that he¡¯s going to oppress them or he¡¯ll use his terraizing powers to kill them all. Not only was it aggravating, it wasn¡¯t fair. They see themselves and others around them as individuals, but he isn¡¯t given the same courtesy and is seen as an amalgamation of all of his previous incarnations and their supposed horrible deeds, some so far back in history even Zayd himself no longer remembers their names, much less the deeds they¡¯ve committed. The wider the gap between the more recent and past incarnations get, the worse his collective memory becomes.

    But he tries not pay those people a whole of attention. Many people may dislike him but there are also plenty of other people also love and appreciate the spiritual guidance he brings as the Zaipha. While he loves them all equally for supporting him, he holds two people very close to his heart: his father and his little sister Ha¡¯verya. He could imagine them now, the glee sliding off their voices as they congratulate and praise him, telling him how much they love him while holding him tightly within their embrace after the Coronation ceremony was over. Although tonight¡¯s ceremony did make him slightly nervous, the thought of speaking to his family once more before leaving on his journey did provide him some peace of mind.

    If only¡­ Mother could¡¯ve been around to see this day, his lips quivered slightly and tears swelled at the thought, but he dried them as best he could. If she saw him now, she wouldn¡¯t like to find him crying. He could almost hear her cheerfully say, ¡°If your lips are upside down, mine can¡¯t help but follow, so don¡¯t cry, Maka, Ha¡¯verya. Two beautiful girls like you two shouldn¡¯t cry, so come on, put them frowns upside down¡±, while she held him and his sister close; her bosom smelled faintly of orange-flower perfume while her clothes gave hints as to what that night¡¯s dinner will be.

    Despite the childhood memory being from a time of happiness, it only brought with it a feeling of nagging regret. If you hadn¡¯t preoccupied yourself with Zaipha duties and Weapon Wielder training, and visited her in the hospital, maybe your mother wouldn¡¯t have died, the voice inside his head told him. How could you even do that to her? Especially after the two of you repaired your relationship with one another after she finally accepted that you wanted to live as a man.

    Ever since she passed away a season ago, penitence continually hung over him like an annoying melody that won¡¯t leave him. If only he had gotten over his fear of seeing her like that ¨C his warm and gentle mother inside a sickeningly disinfected room, her hand growing weaker and frailer by the week while her once gluttonous appetite was withering away ¨C then maybe¨C

    ¡°Are you alright, Zayd?¡± asked Elder Zamya softly, her hand laid on his shoulder like his mother used to.

    The Tilithian Weapon Wielder didn¡¯t respond right away and didn¡¯t move either. Though after a few minutes, he wiped his tears. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Thank you, Zamya. I¡­¡± he deeply inhaled, his breathe still shaky. ¡°I-I was just thinking about my mother¡­ She would¡¯ve been the most excited for this day, screaming and cheering louder than anyone else. It¡¯s a shame that she won¡¯t be able to see it.¡± Instead of digging himself into a deeper hole, Zaipha Al-Faris decided to smile. Despite a few moments of weakness on his part, a Zaipha mustn¡¯t let their feelings show. It¡¯s rather undefined. Besides, that¡¯s what mother would¡¯ve wanted, to put his frown upside down. ¡°Thank you for your words of wisdom, Elder Kevry. I agree with your words the most. Today is the most inappropriate day for relaxation, especially considering tonight¡¯s festivities. On the topic of tonight¡¯s ceremony, my father and little sister will be attending,¡± he told the others with much certainty. ¡°Once they arrive and get situated, escort them to my room, alright?¡±

    The Elder of Panjkora didn¡¯t respond right away and none of the other seven Elders stepped in either. With everyone so silent, the feeling of suspicion grew. They were hiding something from him. He knew it and he didn¡¯t like it one bit. ¡°Well?¡± he asked, his voice sounded surprisingly like a thunderclap against the silence. ¡°Why did you all suddenly become quiet? Do you think if you just go silent, you¡¯ll just disappear from my presence? I¡¯m blind, not daft. If you have something to say then just say it.¡±

    A gentle, soothing familiar hand rested on his. ¡°Zayd,¡± Elder Zamya finally responded. Her voice sounded hesitant, equally so were her words. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry to tell you this but¡­ your father and sister won¡¯t be able to make it to tonight¡¯s ceremony. They informed us earlier that they''re very busy with work today. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    All the excitement he held earlier about seeing his father and sister on his special day sunk like a well-built ship that fell into the depths of the Norian Ocean. Completely in shocked, the frown on his face hanged there frozen as his mind started to race. How can they not come? They always came to his birthday celebrations, what makes this one any different? They said they were going to come. They kept on reminding him that they were these last two weeks, so were they lying? No. They don¡¯t lie. They won¡¯t. But if they didn¡¯t lie, then why?

    Zayd¡¯s lips thawed out of the ice and twitched, ready to speak and ask all the questions his mind had concocted, when the flutter of fabric and jingling of anklets interrupted him. Wafts of juicy camel meat spiced with classic Navasarian spices like garlic, cumin and oregano, filled the gazebo¡¯s wide-open space like it was a wave, carried atop by what looked to be a platter that levitated high through the air. Soon plates of steaming hot yucca bread and amarlah, gelatinous K¡¯myese sugar cane syrup flavored with spices, walnuts and dates, flew by, furthering the intoxicating aroma and Zayd¡¯s howling stomach. His favorite dessert had arrived.

    ¡°Lunch is ready,¡± a young, soft-spoken namkita woman announced with the whispers of her anklets following closely behind. ¡°Would any of you like a refill of your drinks before you enjoy your meal?¡±

 III - Elia

    ¡°What about this one?¡± Elia muttered to herself, levitating a spare screen over her prototype. She analyzed the screen with extreme care, practically gluing her eyes to the glass frame as she considered its possible inclusion from all possible angles ¨C overall design, manufacturing cost and quality control ¨C but ultimately shook her head and discarded it, letting it crash into the bucket with the rest of the unwanted frames. This one wasn¡¯t fitting her standards either. It had a smudge.

    She pushed off her naum rings onto her work desk, removing her ability to levitate objects about, and ran her fingers through her kinky black hair anxiously. If she was to make a comeback on the international stage, her invention had to be flawless! Not only that, but this prototype had to be completed by tomorrow; Big Sister Sor¨¢nne was going to be assessing it. It took weeks of planning and constructing to get it to this stage. However, if she brought it the way it currently was, incomplete and sloppy-looking and without field-testing¡­ Her stomach began to ache.

    ¡°Elia,¡± Kyr¨¦ squawked. ¡°Elia! Elia!¡± Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his bright turquoise wings flap persistently near a pile of glass screens that she hasn¡¯t reviewed yet. ¡°Elia! Elia! Look, look! Elia, look! Elia, look!¡±

    Frustratedly, she slammed a clench fist on her desk and turned towards her pet kirili. ¡°For the love of Nakoi, what is it, Kyr¨¦?¡± she roared furiously like a lion. ¡°Can¡¯t you see mama¡¯s inventing?¡±

    Instead of responding, he just stood there and shook frantically like he was just doused in this morning¡¯s snow water. Kyr¨¦ wrapped his large, gorgeous wings around himself, shielding his light brown underbelly and his strong legs. ¡°Calm, e-e-Elia,¡± he stammered. ¡°Your powers. c-c-Cold. r-Really cold.¡±

    Seeing her beloved pet tremble and shake pacified her anger. Her Weapon Wielder powers always leaked out whenever she was too into her emotions, making the air around her freeze and icicles grow. If only she had more time in the day to train and control it. Inventing is all she seems to do now, from sunrise to sunset. Like a drug, it takes ahold of her and lasts for weeks, consuming her and leading her to lash out when things aren¡¯t going as she meticulously planned¡­ But no one, Kyr¨¦ included, deserved to be at the brunt of her anger; Elia wasn¡¯t like Empress Amphitrite the Great, the sixty-fifth Weapon Wielder of Athesan who, despite conquering the other three realms and giving birth to the prosperous Athesanian Empire four hundred years ago, was simultaneously known for treating the other three Weapon Wielders and the colonies that she ruled over with extreme force and brute laws, such as mandating Athaese to be the sole spoken language used in schools, businesses and institutions of higher learning all across the realm as a method of control. ¡°Sorry,¡± Elia replied softer and calmer. ¡°Better?¡±

    The kirili glanced upward for a moment, his small black eyes squinting in thought. ¡°Much better,¡± he replied with a bob of the head. ¡°Warm, good. Cold, bad. Very, very bad.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know.¡± With a smile, Elia scratched underneath his long and sharp pointed bill, making her small companion tweet with pleasure. ¡°I¡¯ll be very careful next time, I promise. So, what was it you just had to show mama, huh? Go on, I¡¯m all eyes and ears. Just be quick, okay? Mama¡¯s a little busy right now.¡±

    As though fishing for newly hatched tadpoles in the pond beneath a grand Essence that hovered high in the cloudless sky, Kyr¨¦ used his strong beak to swiftly move the mound of glass frames from side to side until he just stopped. ¡°Found it,¡± said the bird, rotating his head like an owl to peer back at his owner. Then, he realigned his body in a snap and climbed up to the Weapon Wielder of Athesan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Go on.¡± He playfully tapped at the four-year-old sapphire-studded nakaf piercing that sat beneath Elia¡¯s bottom lip. When she first entered her menstrual cycle, she received the piercing along with her breast scar in a holy Nakoic ceremony; from that day forward, she was now considered an adult of marriageable age and Nakoi¡¯s constant protection was forever etched into her very skin, reminiscent of the way the Great Snake Mother protected her defenseless human children from her jealous draconic kin as told in the sacred stories. Elia took great pride in them. ¡°Go on,¡± Kyr¨¦ repeated. ¡°Go look.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Elia replied with a chuckle. She slid her naum rings back on and tapped the frame; bright green light radiated from the two objects but quickly simmered down, resembling a faint flame. With exaggerated care, she hovered the glass and steadied it. Using the soft afternoon light that filtered into her bedroom, she analyzed the small, translucent substance. No smudges or scratches so far.

    A giddy smile appeared on her face as Elia moved with budding excitement. With a sudden flick of her hand, the glass glided over to her prototype¡¯s sturdy, oval structure and, upon evaluation of all the design and monetary viewpoints¡­.

    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± she whispered. All the nervousness and stress that once clouded her mind vanished, allowing true ataraxy to reign freely.

    ¡°I know,¡± cried Kyr¨¦ with a proud tone. His wings flapped with excitement.

    Feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, Elia began to twirl about her bedroom like a vortex of water. Kyr¨¦ followed his owner, flying and singing brief toons; blurs of her cluttered bookshelf and unmade bed whipped about¨C

    CCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!

    Halted in the middle of her tracks, Elia¡¯s heart slumped into disbelief and her eyes grew wide. Laying on the floor in front of her door was the remains of her prototype¡¯s screen, shattered into chunks, large and small.

    ¡°No, no, no,¡± the Weapon Wielder of Athesan murmured in a hurry, rushing over to the mound of broken glass. ¡°Please, rise.¡± Her dark umber hands moved about, but not all the glass pieces rose. Before her very eyes, all of her hard work was slipping through her fingers, becoming all for not. Tears began to sprout. Biting her lip and batting away the tears as best she could, she pushed off her naum rings and reached for the glass with her own two hands.

    ¡°Elia, don¡¯t!¡± Kyr¨¦ squawked and began pulling at her hair.

    Elia ignored the bird¡¯s plea and pushed him back with her hand, replying, ¡°I¡¯m fine, Kyr¨¦. Just stay in the air, okay? I don¡¯t want you to get hurt.¡± One by one, she placed the pieces of shivered glass in her palm, all as sharp as a needle. After a few moments of carefully pushing them about with her finger, some of the glass fitted together more or less. Staring at the broken fragments, she wondered how she¡¯ll make these small pieces become whole again¡­ Glue? No. That¡¯ll take too much time. But¡­ Elia thought. Maybe this will be far quicker.

    Inhaling as much air as possible, Elia¡¯s chest rose and sharply fell as hard frigid air flew from her lips, freezing the assembly of shattered glass together. At first she believed a solution had been found, but upon seeing the cracks in the glass shine through the block of ice as clear as the morning light on freshly fallen snow, making her surroundings look large here and then small over there, discovered the idea to be a cheap one.

    All of her hard work¡­ One moment she had finally finished it and then it fell into shambles all due to her carelessness of keeping her naum rings still coiled around her fingers when she was jumping and twirling around the room. Sucking up the air, the block of ice came undone in large chunks, leaving the pieces of glass to crumble to the floor. The chunks of frozen water flew back into her mouth, melting into cool water upon contact. Though refreshing, the water that rushed down her throat didn¡¯t impede the tears from falling.

    The sound of Kyr¨¦¡¯s flapping wings waned and the touch of his talons wrapped gently around her shoulder. ¡°Elia, don¡¯t cry,¡± he told her, softly nuzzling his beak against her hair. ¡°No tears. Tears, bad. Happy smiles, good. Helps feel better.¡±

    ¡°But how can I smile when it¡¯s all over?¡± Elia sobbed, moving her hands about with much frustration. ¡°All of my work¡­ those two weeks of nothing but work, day and night, are gone and what do I have to show for it? Nothing! All I have is an incomplete project that¡¯s due tomorrow and it¡¯s all my fault!¡±

    The kirili¡¯s van caressed his owner¡¯s cheek and tickled her enough to have her icy blue eyes turn to the pair of small, bulbous black eyes that peered back at her with pity. ¡°No.¡± Kyr¨¦ shook his blue head. ¡°Not incomplete. You have time. Much, much time. But, take break. Break, good. Go eat. Go see Father. Enjoy eighteenth birthday. Relax. You do much better after.¡± The edge of his beak tapped at her nose with much care and suddenly caressed her cheeks, drinking up the orbs of water that raced down her face. Suddenly Kyr¨¦ shivered in disgust and clenched his eyes closed. ¡°Tears, no good. Too salty. Karhihimos,¡± his voice croaked nauseatingly.

    As she watched her bird squirm in disgust, Elia began to smile. The Athesanian word Kyr¨¦ truly fitted the kirili; he always acted histrionic if it¡¯s meant to cheer her up. The Athesanian Weapon Wielder moved him off her shoulder to her wrist and held his head close to her bosom. ¡°Thank you, Kyr¨¦.¡± She petted his back. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would do without you.¡± She picked herself up and walked over to her pet¡¯s food bin, using chopsticks to pull out the carcass of a plump rat pup. ¡°Here is a treat for helping. You deserve it.¡±

    Hungrily, Kyr¨¦¡¯s small tongue started move side to side until he couldn¡¯t wait any longer and snatched the carcass up. Holding it tightly in his talons, he began to rip out chunks of its flesh, bones and all. By the time Elia cleaned up the glass and walked out of her bedroom, passing the small pilasters of takium stone that lit the hallways, Kyr¨¦ had finished his snack and was singing a toon to voice his enjoyment, ¡°Good, good, very good. Rat pup. Rat pup. Good, good, very good.¡±

    Elia giggled with mild amusement. ¡°I¡¯m glad you liked it so much, but you didn¡¯t get any blood on my clothes, right? What about splinters of bone?¡±

    Kyr¨¦¡¯s head bobbed side to side, taking in the sights of his owner¡¯s long-sleeved, blue collared tunic made of black wool. Her black leggings and boots had a quick once-over as well. ¡°No. Your yurokos is clean.¡±

    "Good,¡± Elia replied, scratching her pet¡¯s head. ¡°You know how I hate feeling those pesky bones jab at me while I sit.¡±

    Up ahead was a gallery holding Tsunami, her Holy ewer, atop an adorned column. Engraved into its surface were ancient Athesanian carvings that illustrated when an antlered Nakoi finished molding humans from clays of various shades and colors and sat them down in a shallow river, humans were brought to life ¨C variation in the lore such as the type of hard, permanent horns that protruded from Nakoi¡¯s great head or the size of water that the early humans were placed in were key evidence that Athesan¡¯s other ethnic group, the K¨¦k¨¦, played a role in crafting Tsunami all those thousands, memory-scrambling years ago. It was a pity Elia couldn¡¯t remember that far back¡­ Despite that, she looked on at the gorgeous historical weapon that had been passed down from one Athesanian Weapon Wielder to the next via a grand Coronation Ceremony with much pride and recalled the memories of her own coronation that just took place earlier in the week all due to her busy schedule.

    The takium stones outside the Essence shined radiantly under the moon¡¯s orange glow and the nebulous, wisp-like trail that followed the l¨¥fyk, eidolons of fallen leaves, as they flew about the night sky. Freshly deceased or not, the little ghosts, covered in their little dried leaf masks and dresses, fazed through all that stood in their way as they continued their eternal quest of scouring for their Mother Trees before the morning sun rose, hoping that tonight might just be the very night that they reunite with her and are finally laid to rest, Athesanian lore had explained. As though to help (or impede) the poor things, crisp breezes blew in from time to time, blowing the l¨¥fyk to and fro. Snow soon began to sprinkle from the night sky, covering the thatched, slanted roof of the Essence with even more layers of snow as High Naga Karigg, hunch-over and grey haired, spoke, ¡°Just as Nakoi had granted the elemental powers to the four humans who showed the greatest of skill in the war against her draconic son, Elyas, and his siblings, all those thousands of years ago, tonight is when the seventy-fifth reincarnation of one of those special people¡­¡± A cold gale blew in from the north, carrying the snow along with it and the harsh rustling of trees that sounded the Essence¡¯s pond below. High Naga Karigg¡¯s robes move and sway violently and so did the l¨¥fyk. The wind was so strong that the continuing words the High Naga had spoken were blocked out, though he didn¡¯t seem to notice nor mind.

    The chilly wind didn¡¯t bother Elia; her formal yurokos was of black felt, from tunic collar to the cuffs on her pants, and had small fragments of the dulled red evarn stone sewn into its fabric, furthering the warmth her spindly frame received. The edges of her trousers were stuffed into her tightly laced boots while the tunic was furbelowed with threads of blue and black in wavelike needlework resembling Nakoi in all her draconic, ram-horned glory. It didn¡¯t ruin her hairstyle either, one that took hours of intricate micro-braiding and weaving in blue thread to resemble a flowing waterfall.

    But as soon as the wind came, it also left. ¡°And so,¡± High Naga Karigg¡¯s voice finally returned, ¡°it is with great certainty and honor for me to announce that the next Weapon Wielder of Athesan is Elia Amalie Wynchell ev Od¨¦llham. May Nakoi watch over her with great diligence once she begins her journey.¡± A few snaps of the photo recorders stirred behind her as Elia rose. This is one of the biggest moments of her life.

    With a long yurokiri draped over his shoulders, revealing only glimpses of that historical black-and-gold royal regalia that shielded his dark umber skin from the cold as he moved about, King Kheno iv Kavinto of Athesan, nephew to Elia¡¯s predecessor Derik the Young, presented Elia with Tsunami wrapped in special silk. ¡°Congratulations, young one,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°May you serve your country well.¡±

    Feeling the familiar surge of the ocean¡¯s currents build at her fingertips, but unskilled to show off any amazing hydroizing techniques, Elia cradled the ewer like a babe, rendering her feeling of inadequate ¨C a feeling she hated. She wanted to show off her powers, the powers that mainly laid dormant due to lack of contact with Tsunami, and put on a fantastic display. But she couldn¡¯t; she couldn¡¯t remember any of those movements or forms besides hovering her hands over Tsunami¡¯s spout to summon water, and she dared not attempt to try to show-off lest it made her look foolish. However, once she turned around, surrounded by the now feverish snapping of the photo recorders and the roar of the crowd¡¯s clapping and cheering, that feeling became smaller as she was reminded just how great she was.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    She truly was superior.

    Big Sister Sor¨¢nne and her wife Euryale, wearing the highest quality of yorikiri available, ran over; their coats looked like they were made of freshly fallen snow. ¡°You¡¯re so gorgeous, Elia,¡± Euryale said as she pressed her gold-studded nakaf piercing against sister-in-law¡¯s brow ¨C an old Nakoic act of affection. Sor¨¢nne wrapped her mechanical arms around the both of them and spun them around in one giant group, leaving Euryale and Elia filled with laughter while l¨¥fyk fazed right through the trio.

    When Sor¨¢nne had enough twirling, she placed her wife and baby sister down. ¡°We¡¯re so proud of you, Ellie,¡± Sor¨¢nne said, cupping her younger sister¡¯s face. Her purple eyes shimmered and her lower lip trembled as she became more and more emotional, making her jasper-studded nakaf dance. ¡°You were truly and utterly beautiful. Just seeing you up there¡­¡± She wiped away the tears that ran down her taupe face with her kigiried mechanical fingers. Euryale placed her dark sepia hand on her wife¡¯s shoulder and her sea-blue eyes seemed to shine with agreement, looking toward Elia with much pride. ¡°It made me so honored to be your iyra,¡± Sor¨¢nne continued.

    Hearing those words of praise from Sor¨¢nne and Euryale and seeing the looks on their faces made Elia happier. Filled with joy, she hugged the two of them as tight as she could. The two women looked at each other with smiles and tears in their eyes and wrapped their arms around the Athesanian Weapon Wielder. No matter what age she turned or at what stage of life she was in, she was still a child in their eyes; Sor¨¢nne and Euryale are fifteen years older after all.

    Wearing a woolen purple overcoat with a white fox tail wrapped snuggly around his neck, tightly bound pants and Hydranian-made furred boots, Father strode over calmly and, with a giant smile on his face, pulled Elia from his eldest daughter¡¯s metallic grasp and squeezed her so tight that she thought her lungs were about to burst. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you, my snow crystal,¡± he said, his face wet with tears. The nakam piercings that rested just above his lip, resembling a snake¡¯s fangs, pressed into her forehead. Mother¨C

    Elia shook her head. Mother doesn¡¯t deserve my thoughts, especially after what she did to us, she staunchly reminded herself as she entered the family room.

    The walls were painted blue and lined with little golden motifs of Nakoi erupting from the depths of her underwater kingdom, horns and all. Heat from the large mound of crystalized fire that was installed into the center of the room seeped into the floor and walls of the entire house, working hard to keep the cold out since Winter began and cook the stew that sat in the pot beside it. Due to the family fur carpet being situated close to the big, bright stone, Father looked like he was a relaxed cat as he slept atop the thick wool fur carpet.

    Photos of Great-Grandpa Eliseo and Great-Grandma Elia hung beside one another in the kitchen, watching over their family with a protective gaze. Back when Great-Grandpa Eliseo was still alive, he¡¯d used to say that Elia greatly resembled the late great-grandmother of whom she was named, especially with her icy-blue eyes and rangy build, and often told stories of her. ¡°Your Great-Grandmother used to love to cook too, y¡¯know,¡± said Great-Grandpa Eliseo as he ate the juicy flesh of a Navasarian clementine. Elia sat beside him on the fur rug, eager to hear stories of the Great-Grandmother she never knew.

    When the juice streaming down his ebony fingers and deep magenta kigiri tattoo got to be too bothersome, he rubbed his sticky fingers against a damp cloth and went back to enjoy the fruit. ¡°She used to come up with these weird food combinations, like noodles doused in sweet syrup, and have us taste ¡®em like we¡¯re her Oro birds. I hated them but your father used to adore them.¡± He chuckled at the memory, causing his amethyst-studded nakam piercings to dance, but when his laughter settled and he took a deep sigh, Elia saw tears begin to sprout. Taking off the first model of sight-giving glasses Elia had produced and placing it on the rug, Great-Grandpa Eliseo wiped those tears away with the back of his pudgy hand, but his hazed-over, once rich zaffre-colored eyes were still moist. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give to eat them again one last time, Elia,¡± he murmured, his voice shaking. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give¡­¡±

    Father¡¯s snoring echoed through the room and so did the simmering rumble of the stewpot, making Elia feel at ease for a moment. But this break couldn¡¯t last long, she told herself. She had to get right back to work.

    Elia sat next to her father¡¯s sleeping body on the fur carpet, enjoying his company as she hovered her hands over the hot varne stone stalagmite. The stone¡¯s glorious crimson blaze wrapped itself around Father¡¯s large frame and danced, lighting both the familial crest of a snake carrying a sprig of burdock on his long coat and the large bags underneath his eyes. He must be so tired working in the clinic, Elia thought pitifully as caressed her father¡¯s ebony skin with the back of her hand. Nothing a little food can¡¯t fix, though.

    As Kyr¨¦ stretched his wings in front of the heat, Elia froze her palm and raised the pot¡¯s lid, checking the r¨ªkik, or snow stew, she had prepared earlier that morning. Steam rose from her palm like a furious Weapon Wielder of Navasar as the smell of spices like coriander and curry leaves filled the air. Seethed in the seasoned cashew milk were millions of those little white snow-beans and succulent cuts of carrots and cubed beef and mushrooms, bobbing in and out just beneath the surface.

    ¡°Kyr¨¦, can you go fetch me a spoon from the utensil rack?¡± Elia carefully eased the lid down next to her and quickly wiped the water off her palm. ¡°I need to taste the r¨ªkik.¡±

    ¡°Can Kyr¨¦ taste?¡± the kirili asked, cocking his head curiously.

    ¡°Still hungry? The rat pup wasn¡¯t enough for you, huh? Alright, you can have some too.¡±

    Kyr¨¦ flew so fast that time and space seemed to have shrunk before Elia¡¯s very eyes; one minute his talons were empty and then they were filled with sturdy Charcoal wood spoons and bowls the next. The kirili set the natural onyx-colored wood cutlery and tableware beside his owner. ¡°R¨ªkik.¡± He nudged the bowl forward.

    Elia gave her pet a look but couldn¡¯t keep it for long and ended up laughing. ¡°You cheeky bird, you.¡±

    Father¡¯s gruff voice slowly stirred to life, tired and half-asleep. He then suddenly let out a childishly raucous yawn, making his shiny, multicolored opal-studded nakam piercings just above his lips dance wildly, making the young Athesanian Weapon Wielder giggle which caused him to smile. Now that he was more aroused and alive, he rose from where he laid. With one hand, Father fastened the large purple mantle around his strong shoulders while rubbing his eyes with the other. ¡°Kari-Kari, my snow crystal,¡± he told between a yawn and a dig of his short nails into his hair waves, giving the back of his head a quick scratch. He rubbed his eyes once more and pressed his nakam against Elia¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°Kari-Kari, El¨¦,¡± Elia smiled and pressed her own nakaf against her father¡¯s brow. ¡°Were Kyr¨¦ and I being too loud?¡±

    ¡°A touch.¡± He hovered his hands over the mound of crystalized heat and covered his nose and mouth shut. ¡°But not too loud,¡± his voice came out all muffled. ¡°I was supposed to be getting up anyway. I just overslept a little, but luckily you two were my alarm-clock.¡± He uncovered the lower half of his face, revealing a slight smirk. Crossing his legs under him, he placed his hands down on his thighs. ¡°Is the r¨ªkik ready?¡±

    ¡°It smells ready,¡± Elia replied. She grabbed one of the wooden spoons Kyr¨¦ had laid out and after stirring the sea of cashew milk a few times, she brought it up to her lips for a taste.

    While rich and creamy, the r¨ªkik wasn¡¯t overly thick nor did it have the taste of cashew; the Kmirahii curry leaves¡¯ and coriander melted into the milk, providing quite a kick of flavor with a mild citrus undertone. The snow beans were as soft as butter and as plump as grapes, making them look like mountains against the ocean of cashew milk. Despite taking hours of obsessively ridding the beef of its disgustingly chewy fat, it was well worth it, providing a nice salty, meaty flavor which counterbalanced the sweetness from the carrots and the earthiness of the mushrooms.

    Breathing in the spices brought back memories of Mother and Sor¨¢nne cooking in the kitchen, making piping hot and hearty r¨ªkik during the coldest of winter nights. Besides isolating herself away in her room and relaxingly tinkering with new projects like she always did, eating a bowl full of r¨ªkik was one of the things that Elia looked after spending the whole day at school and walking through hefty snow on her way home, even if her family ended up annoyed when she would bring up the chunks of meat up toward the light and analyzed one by one before she put the spoonful of meat and beans and vegetables in her mouth.

    Despite their annoyance and their call for her to just eat normally, they were happy memories, times where she could just relax and talk to her family about her new inventions. However now that she was armed with the knowledge of her mother¡¯s true personality, the times when Mother used to playfully tease Father or proclaim that she loved Elia to the moon and back felt more like a stab to the heart in retrospect. Wherever her mother was right now, Elia wondered if that man was really worth it¡­

    ¡°So?¡± Father and Kyr¨¦ asked in unison, one more eager to eat than the other.

    ¡°The stew is just like Sor¨¢nne used to make it, but I think my version is better,¡± Elia replied haughtily with a smirk. Despite sounding strong and arrogant, tears started welled up in reminder of all that could change in just a year and a half. That day where her mother kicked both her and her father out of their house in Hydra¡¯s northernmost capital-island of Kh¨¦ll and immediately brought a new man in, one that was seemingly far wealthier and handsomer than Father, was more like a nightmare. A nightmare that continually remained clear as day in her mind.

    Mother had their bags and Kyr¨¦¡¯s cage ready and packed and wouldn¡¯t even let Elia finish breakfast as she pushed them out the door and into the front yard. In his cage, Kyr¨¦ looked confused and scared as he watched on.

    ¡°You dare kick not only your husband of thirty-four years out of his own house, but your youngest daughter as well?¡± Father hissed. ¡°Have you lost your mind, Kihei?¡±

    ¡°El¨¢?¡± Elia called out to her mother worriedly. Her stomach ached as her hands clutched to her own tunic for comfort, grabbing at it like a child.

    Mother glanced at her youngest daughter with irritation, looking at her like was nothing more than a total stranger. With blue-violet eyes and a voice as beautiful as a violin, she turned back to Father. ¡°You think I care whether or not she is my daughter, Emory? If she can¡¯t bring in money like she used to, she is of no use to me either. Her Weapon Wielder Coronation isn¡¯t going to be for another two years so no money from the Legislative branch, and in terms of her little inventions, Elia is nothing more than a one-trick pony. She created those glasses to help blind folks see and that was the only one of her inventions that actually sold like hotcakes. The rest are nothing more than a waste of everyone else¡¯s time and won¡¯t ever achieve the same height as those damn glasses. I¡¯m tired of it. Now I want the both of you out in five minutes.¡± She clapped her dark brown hands together hurriedly. ¡°Come on. Chop-chop. My boyfriend will be arriving shortly.¡±

    Her words cut Elia like a sword to the chest. At first, she was shocked and absolutely at a loss for words but then tears just flowed unabashedly like a hard-hitting tsunami as it ravished a coastal town. I-is that what she truly thinks of me? Elia thought. Honest and true? But I thought she was supportive¡­ But I thought she was supportive¡­

    Tears were in Father¡¯s eyes as well but when he saw how much his wife¡¯s words hurt their daughter, his broken heart erupted with perfervid rage. ¡°And what makes you think I¡¯ll leave with Elia willingly?¡± he yelled. ¡°You know the type of man I am, Kihei. This house is not just yours, it¡¯s Elia¡¯s and my house too. I¡¯m not going to let you take something that rightfully belongs to my daughter. Don¡¯t be so damn selfish.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know, Emory. I know how hard-headed you are.¡± With a smirk, Mother ran out into the concrete street, her black-embroidered icy blue tunic and fur-trimmed dark blue skirt quickly danced as she moved. Surrounded by neighbors¡¯ houses and the looming buildings of Hydra¡¯s eastern capital-island Specie in the distance, she began screaming, ¡°Someone help! Someone, please! Emory¡¯s hurting me! Stop, Emory! Stop! Elia, stop freezing me. It hurts!¡±

    Now seething with anger, Father took a step but Elia held him back. ¡°Let¡¯s go, El¨¦,¡± she blubbered. ¡°I¡­ I want to go. Please, I don¡¯t like it here.¡±

    Father hesitantly agreed and the two hurriedly picked up their things and drove to Sor¨¢nne and Euryale¡¯s house on the other side of Kh¨¦ll, where the two eventually stayed for a few weeks until the situation settled down and Father decided to take himself and his youngest daughter to his hometown of Galamide in the eastern province of Kr¨ªte of the Athesanian mainland.

    When Father explained to Sor¨¢nne everything that night after supper, his eldest daughter grew so furious that tears began to swell. ¡°How dare she toss you two out like your nothing but bags of dirt,¡± she yelled. ¡°If I was there, I¡¯d like to see her try and throw you two out.¡± Equally angry, Euryale nodded and declared that Mother would¡¯ve had to go through her dead body if she wanted to kick the two of them out.

    Elia remembered just sitting on a cushioned chair and holding onto Kyr¨¦ as tight as she ever held him in her life. Laying his head on his owner¡¯s shoulder, the kirili protectively wrapped his giant wings around Elia. The repetition of her thumb barely grazing the kirili¡¯s soft underbelly eased her.

    Not wanting to worry Father or bring up things he¡¯d prefer to forget, Elia simply batted away the tears and went on to pretend as though nothing was wrong. ¡°The r¨ªkik is good. Thankfully there aren¡¯t a whole lot of vegetables and none of those strange ones Sor¨¢nne used to buy too. The meat is delicious, and there is a nice ratio between the meat and vegetables and snow bea-¡±

    ¡°Elia,¡± Father interrupted with a serious tone. ¡°Remember to look at me when you¡¯re talking to me. You¡¯ve been looking up the entire time.¡±

    The young Athesanian Weapon Wielder blinked and suddenly realized she was indeed doing what her father had informed her of doing; her face was turned toward the wall behind him while her eyes were fixated on the ceiling. ¡°Oh.¡± Then she consciously focused her eyes to her father¡¯s face, his sapphire eyes stared back at hers. Scary, Elia thought, but she forced herself to put up with it. She didn¡¯t want to make her father angry. ¡°Sorry, El¨¦.¡±

    Father let out a sigh and he placed his hand over hers. Forever inked into his left hand was the deep magenta kigiri tattoo that once symbolized his marriage to Elia¡¯s mother; while it was intricate, it was only half of a whole. When placed alongside Mother¡¯s kigiri, it beautifully depicted Nakoi blessing the two of them on their wedding day, coiling her draconic tail around both their necks and keeping them bound to one another for however long this life shall last.

    Ever since she was small, Elia always wanted to get her own kigiri after witnessing Sor¨¢nne and Euryale get theirs just weeks before their marriage. Her kigiri would shine against her heavily-embroidered wedding furs, her magenta threaded braids cascading down her shoulders as she walked towards her future husband¡­ Elia¡¯s wedding day was one of the many things she dreamed of, but now she saw the tattoo on her father¡¯s skin as a cruel reminder.

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, my snow crystal,¡± Father told. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t doing it on purpose, but just try to remember, okay? If you¡¯re looking up while talking to someone, people are going to think your¡­ off. I don¡¯t want that.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Elia replied. ¡°I¡¯ll try. Anyway, the stew is done. Here, let me get you a nice chunk of beef and a whole lot of beans. You must be hungry.¡± She reached for a cup but Kyr¨¦ bit her finger and squawked, ¡°My cup first! I¡¯m hungrier.¡±

 IV - XiÃ¹yÄ«ng

    A barrage of squalls erupted from K¨£i¡¯s fist. Despite the powerful gales dispersing after clashing with the sturdy brick wall, the room still seemed to shake under its influence. Under the Bilithgoric Weapon Wielder¡¯s aerizing powers, Cyclone¡¯s individual iron leaflets flew about wildly like those swarms of little q¨ª that appeared every night as they hurried to collected more and more of that moonbeam energy for their hungry Mother Tree before the ferocious winds inevitably blew them leagues away. Instead of being all innocently sweet like the q¨ª, Cyclone¡¯s thin sheets of iron followed their master¡¯s hand movements and slashed and stabbed at an invisible enemy with the collective viciousness of a horde of lion seals ¨C as expected of the mythical pair of Bilithgornic war fans - whose iron is renowned for being so sword-sharp that even lightly placing your finger over its iron leaves was enough to draw blood ¨C and just as she wanted.

    However, as Xi¨´y¨©ng watched on, urumi in hand, she noticed that the crowned prince was beginning to grow slower; against the radiant gu¨¡ng stone, his muscular arms weakly moved through the air as sweat slid down his scar-heavy back, his breath was becoming more and more haggard by the moment.

    For a moment, Xi¨´y¨©ng recalled memories of her own childhood; that weak and teary-eyed little girl that Father bossed around until her body was all bloody and blue from her weekly urumi lessons, a martial art all Bilithgoric princesses must master; that frightened little girl Father threw out of the palace once her beauty was ruined by the scar he caused; that betrayed little girl that had been replaced by a newborn baby brother¡­ She remembered those harsh memories good and well for she knew she wouldn¡¯t allow anyone to make her feel any of those things ever again.

    If it meant being immortalized in history books amidst the amazing Weapon Wielders and Monarchs of ages past like Radek the Prudent, the seventieth Weapon Wielder of Athesan who tirelessly wrote safeguards into the Athesanian constitution to prevent another possible royal Weapon Wielder from being crowned monarch and wielding the legislative decisions and hydroizing powers of the Weapon Wielder, alongside with some of the most horrendous ones too like Queen Trast¨¢rmar the Cautious, who, with the legislative approval of her lover Luna the Spiritual, the fourth Weapon Wielder of Navasar, legalized the slavery of the Navi, political dissenters and their future descendants, within their borders for nearly four thousand years ¨C something that the other realms followed fifteen-years-later with their own Navi ¨C she¡¯ll do whatever it took to achieve such a prestigious seat of honor. If it meant achieving something Father never could, like bring the three other realms under Bilithgoric control, just as Cixi, the Bilithgoric Weapon Wielder before K¨£i, had spoken of all those years ago, Xi¨´y¨©ng will gladly do it.

    Against the harsh crack of the urumi, she heard her voice carry with the booming grandiose of thunder. ¡°Continue!¡±

    Suddenly instilled with fear, as though he was reminded of her presence, K¨£i moved even faster than before. He lowered his head and kept his arms close as he summoned barges of squalls one after another, followed by the sharp, quick hacking and slashing motions of his hands that Cyclone¡¯s iron leaflets emulated. He even threw in a few gale kicks for good measure. Xi¨´y¨©ng smiled, enjoying how a mere word from her lips commanded such a response. He was like the small ants her thumb used to hover over during the summertime, wary and under her complete control on whether he shall live¨C

    ¡°H¨³ Hu¨¢ng H¨°u,¡± a restrained voice called from behind, addressing the Tigress by her Monarchial title. When Xi¨´y¨©ng turned, she saw J¨¬ng, Commander Song¡¯s secretary and a Navi of Central Bilithgoric descent, specifically from Sh¨¡n C¨±n W¨¤ng as illustrated by her small lips, deep set eyes, freckles and high cheekbones.

    Clad in a long frock made from priceless Setrkyese kakory silk, loose yet tightly sashed at the stomach by rounds of high-quality braided cords, black trousers and fish leather boots, J¨¬ng was dark in both complexion and hair color, but not so in eye color: porcelain with just a sprinkling of charcoal near the pupil. Though a common eye color in Bilithgorn, it was certainly rarer for someone of her complexion, who typically possessed eyes of either ash, charcoal or slate. Tales oft considered those who possessed such a rare pairing to be blessed by the Invisible Tiger who rode the Western Winds with an incredible amount of innate luck. Despite believing in such superstitions herself, Xi¨´y¨©ng considered for a moment that the notion of luck based on eye color when paired with skin-color was possibly rude and inconsiderate of J¨¬ng¡¯s past, considering the way the secretary kept the N brand that once codified her enslavement hidden underneath her wavy black hair like a tightly bound veil shielding a woman¡¯s face from being seen until her wedding night¡­ From within her frock¡¯s wide, full sleeves, J¨¬ng pulled out a scroll and held it above her head as she bowed before her Queen. ¡°Commander Song had received a letter from the Task Force. He already read it, but he wanted you to be informed as well.¡±

    Xi¨´y¨©ng took the tightly bound scroll with one hand and pressed the back of her other hand against J¨¬ng¡¯s forehead, signaling the secretary that she may rise. As J¨¬ng rose, Xi¨´y¨©ng undid the ribbon that sealed the parchment and scanned its content for any secretive double meaning behind the handwritten wind-like Bilithgoric characters before reading it in earnest. Despite Commander Song being of her own blood, she trusted him the least ¨C he was of the noble houses after all. Nobles were nothing more than backstabbers who spoke of folly, pledging their undying loyalty to her one minute while conspiring against her the next. She wasn¡¯t going to allow what occurred in the Red Panther incident to happen again. Considering Commander Song¡¯s power over the Task Force, he could also be colluding with those invisible rebels that magically line X¨©f¨¥ng B¨£o¡¯s alleyways with their long, indecipherable number codes...The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Regardless of the distrust she felt toward her cousin, nothing about the scroll¡¯s content aroused Xi¨´y¨©ng¡¯s suspicion. Kyuhe may live to see another day, the Queen thought as she began to read the scroll in earnest.

    31st of 90 Winter days; Year 423 After Amphitrite¡¯s Conquest

    The mission has been going as planned, Commander Song. However, as we were crossing the Ocean of Dragons, we spotted some Navasarian pirates from the J¨©ng D¨£o Federation. They looked at us and we looked at them, but they ultimately paid us no mind. Thankfully, that seventy-third Weapon Wielder of Navasar and Pirate Queen of the J¨©ng D¨£o Federation, Shastiyah Su¨¢rez, had signed that treaty all those years ago with her government, preventing her marauders from interfering with governmental and international ships, and invaluable port-cities, but in exchange was granted permission to raid the less valuable ports and other pirates clans without worry. That leonine woman did at least one thing right. Once we reached the Navasarian shore, we stayed at an inn in F¨¦nix Port for a few short hours and then Eesa¡¯s group split off from mine after gathering necessary supplies to head toward Tilith. We crossed so many towns and many jungles that my group and I were starting to miss the harsh breezes of our home-country. It¡¯s incredibly hot and humid here. Finally, after nearly a fortnight of travel by Cheetah-Horse, we finally made our way to the hidden-away town of Esperanza where the Navasarian Weapon Wielder is said to be living, according to the information you¡¯ve given us.

    Even though we¡¯ve arrived, however, it took a day and a half of harsh interrogations to actually allowed into the town. For a town of runaway Navi and their free descendants, they are quite selective of who gets allowed in, especially of people who have the same brand upon their face as them. To them, we¡¯re probably seen as potential traitors who could tell former slave-masters of this town¡¯s location and have this place burned to the ground, but after a lot of pleading and begging as we told our stories of wanting to live in freedom, we were finally allowed in. Sometimes being a woman has its perks: men tend to pity us and believe us more even if we are lying through our very teeth.

    As of now, people are not paying us any mind. They¡¯re too busy setting up for tomorrow¡¯s Coronation Day. Many seem to be in high spirits, though I hear a sizable few voicing their dislike for these Weapon Wielders. Considering history, I cannot fault them for their opinion.

    ¨C Hu¨¯-H¨¨ Zhu¨®

    Excellent.

    Any doubt Xi¨´y¨©ng had about trusting those commoners, whether some of them were ex-Navi Soldiers or not, were laid to rest. When tomorrow morning comes, K¨£i, along with the three other Weapon Wielders, will be dead. No one will be in her way for the next eighteen years ¨C plenty of time to conquer the three other Kingdoms and have all four Weapon Wielders under her complete control.

    Just when she was about to speak to J¨¬ng, Xi¨´y¨©ng saw something from the corner of her eye that roused the Tigress inside of her. Instead of continuing his training like she ordered him to, that insubordinate little ant thought he could catch a few moments of breath behind her back.

    She had the last word ¨C not him!

    The sound of lightning crackling rushed through the air like the real thing as Xi¨´y¨©ng flung her urumi forward and slithering it around K¨£i¡¯s neck. She sharply yanked the steel whip back and the Bilithgoric Weapon Wielder fell to the floor, gasping, clawing at the thin yet razor-sharp iron that constricted his airway and sliced into his delicate flesh. With their owner in a leg kicking panic, Cyclone¡¯s leaflets flew wildly out of control, unsure as to where to go. No matter how much he struggled, Xi¨´y¨©ng didn¡¯t relent the pressure on her steel whip and settling her boot on his bare chest.

    K¨£i¡¯s voice was turning raspy beyond measure and no longer sounded even human. Instead, it sounded more like an animal fighting to survive. How disgusting, she winced. The crowned prince¡¯s face was already past red and was now turning purple; the urumi¡¯s long sheet of iron was soaked in pools of crimson.

    Not being a brute like Father, Xi¨´y¨©ng decided to ease her grip on the steel whip weapon. The once iron grip around his neck perished, leaving K¨£i enough room to cough and gasp for air. His once wild moving iron fan leaflets immediately came crashing down as he clutched at his wound like an idiot. He wasn¡¯t the Weapon Wielder of Navasar ¨C his blood wasn¡¯t going to magically harden and the wound wasn¡¯t going to seal by simply by placing his hand over it, and even then, that method didn¡¯t always work for the Navasarian Weapon Wielder and the wound took some time to heal depending on the severity.

    With a sigh, Xi¨´y¨©ng shook her head and ran her thumb and forefinger over her eyes. ¡°J¨¬ng, be a dear and summon the palace doctors.¡± The Tigress looked back at K¨£i as she heard the secretary ran out of the room, though he didn¡¯t look at her as he was continuing his annoying coughing fit. He did, seemingly deliberately, show her a clenched fist. Though trembling, like the fan¡¯s leaflets that copied it, it didn¡¯t seem to be due to fear, but instead from anger as though his mind was being filled with lofty ambitions for revenge.

    Xi¨´y¨©ng stomped on her son¡¯s his balled-up hand, applying all her weight flattened the limb with ease and stilled all of Cyclone¡¯s leaflets trembling. The little worm squirmed and yelled under her grip. Any sort of thoughts of vengeance he might¡¯ve had swimming in that head of his was snuffed out.

 V - Alvalar

    Watching Misu being spoiled by all those mouthwatering K¨¦k¨¦ baked goods that Karollus had displayed on his family¡¯s stall such as sliced honeyberry bread, walnut-cinnamon loafs and Eskanii, maple butter cookies sprinkled with sea-salt ¨C Alvalar¡¯s absolute favorite ¨C made the birthday boy feel a mixture of shame and anxiety as he was reminded of his size. The disgusting, burning taste of acid rose from his stomach as though it was anticipating being purged once again today, though Alvalar forced the thing down.

    And who did much of this spoiling?

    Karollus Eren Rudas.

    Dressed in clothes resembling a commoner ¨C long linen sleeves rolled up at the elbows and poked out of the armscyes of his dyed hip-length jerkin that adorned his torso, proudly showing his parents¡¯ business logo at the breast and the golden Ul¡¯dalir beads that bound themselves tightly around his wrist; light trousers shielded his long legs from any wondering vampire mosquitoes while the sky-blue piedra de enfriamiento fragments that encrusted his leather sandals kept his ebony skin cool in this humid, summerlike heat ¨C Karollus was feeding the caliber the fruits of his labor as he petted her chocolate fur and spoke to her like a father doting on his only daughter. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

    Misu settled her giant leonine head on Karollus¡¯s lap while she munched on another Eskanii. She enjoyed the cookie¡¯s high quality so much that she let out a fury of high-pitched, cub-like wheeks while rubbing her forehead against the baker¡¯s son¡¯s thigh affectionately, enough to push him out of his seat. ¡°Misu,¡± Alvalar called sharply against the loud, festival crowd. ¡°Stop that and stop eating those treats too. You¡¯ll get fat.¡±

    ¡°But she¡¯ll be happy,¡± Karollus replied, scratching the calibress¡¯ neck. He cupped those big cheeks of hers and squished them affectionately like he used to do back when she was a youngster and couldn¡¯t size-shift yet. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, mi ni?ita?¡±

    Misu might¡¯ve purred in agreement, but her owner certainly didn¡¯t. ¡°Yeah, she¡¯ll be happy when I have to pay for her veterinary bills,¡± he grumbled sarcastically. ¡°Now, quit it, Misu.¡±

    Despite obeying her owner, calibress still grumbled out small growls like an angry child as she wondered back to Alvalar¡¯s side. As Karollus watched Misu go, his downturn teal eyes shifted to the birthday boy and had a healthy sparkle to them. ¡°You look like one of those old legendary knights with that cloak on,¡± he told, gesturing.

    Alvalar smiled, taking in the compliment with his head held high. ¡°I know.¡± He twirled about, holding the edges of his cloak to make him appear more dashing and heroic. ¡°It makes me look distinguished, huh?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps if we lived in those old times but since we don¡¯t, it doesn¡¯t,¡± Karollus replied. ¡°If anything, it makes you look stupid. People that are walking about today who maybe are from the village of Ram Head, trying to sell some of their wares after making it all this way, are going to think you¡¯re un hombre loco who wears capes in the heat.¡±

    His attempt to appear dashing in front of Karollus had crashed and burned, leaving him dejected. ¡°You can¡¯t let me have this, Karo?¡± he pleaded. ¡°Come on.¡±

    The young man of partial noble lineage simply gave a shrug and crossed his arms. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s the truth. A truth I¡¯m going to have to hear about.¡±

    Misu trilled in agreement, leaving Alvalar with a sour frown. Not only was his attempt to flirt with Karollus was going horrible, but also his own caliber was joining in. Just brilliant. ¡°w-w-Well, you look like a commoner and you¡¯re a-a-a-a major buzzkill, so now your plebeyo Buzzkill. How do you like that?¡±

    The baker¡¯s son let out his usual hiss-like chuckle. ¡°I much prefer that than Sennor Buzzkill. It has a humble, hardworking ring to it.¡± Then he uncrossed his arms and pointed a finger at his former-lover, eyebrows raised. ¡°But if I¡¯m plebeyo Buzzkill, what does that make you?¡±

    Without thinking and with a proud ring in his voice, Alvalar blurted out, ¡°Sennor Delusional.¡±

    Before he could take back what he said and come up with something more attractive-sounding, Karollus simply exploded with mirth just like his mother Ekmear and slammed his hand against the stall; his shoulders shook uncontrollably as he hunched over the table, resembling a strong mountain, and hid his face between his strong, stocky arms. Resembling a cave, both whistle-like hisses and much louder laughter spouted from deep within as his back shook.

    All in all, it sounded like his former lover was laughing at him, but instead of getting upset or stone-faced embarrassed, Alvalar simply laughed along. Seeing Karollus¡¯ laugh up close and personal again made him realize how much he missed it. His heart was filled with much warmth and giddy, making the urge to purge his stomach and the anxiety surrounding his size dissipate for the time being.

    It was like his soul was taken by An¨¢ruu ¨C Patron Ancestor to swordsmen, judges, bounty hunters, executioners, peace-seekers and warriors; overseer to both sides of the afterlife due to his life being a three sword-wielding bounty hunter who, according to religious texts, choose his next victim based on the viciousness of their crimes or relatively lack thereof, An¨¢ruu diligently tried his best to maintain peace and order in the Agni region during the tumultuous, civil war torn era of the 46<sup>th</sup> Weapon Wielder of Navasar, Princess Inanna ¨C and was granted a glimpse into the Jungle of Eternal Paradise by the man¡¯s meteorite blade of judgement.

    After a few more moments, the laughter between the two had settled, though Alvalar could still feel its influence over him. He opened his mouth, but he felt that buzz suddenly fade away, leaving him frozen and at a loss for words. What if I say something stupid? He thought. What if I¡¯m not rekindling what we had? Or am I doing it right, m¨¢m¨¢? I don¡¯t know. Even if his confidence waned like the orange moon, he took a deep gulp of air and pressed forward anyway. ¡°H-hey, Karollus. i-i-i-i-i-i-I was w-wondering if you want to come back to my place after the whole Coronation festivities are over?¡± Besides his trembling, hesitant words, he could also feel his hands shake with nervousness; Karollus was just so handsome. ¡°O-or, you c-c-can pass by Smoke¡¯s stall later o-on when maybe you ran out of treats to sell. I¡¯ll be there like always.¡±

    Supporting his head against his semi-clenched fist, Karollus looked at up at his former lover with an attractive grin and said, ¡°What makes you think I¡¯ll want to come over?¡±

    Alvalar¡¯s lips curled upward despite trying his damndest to keep a tight-laced expression. He didn¡¯t expect the baker¡¯s son to have such a reply¡­ Ultimately feeling unsure in himself, his chances and how he should respond next, the birthday boy gave an honest shrug.

    ¡°What?¡± Karollus replied. The once attractive grin that graced his lips contorted like the response that he got wasn¡¯t one that he expected. An eyebrow raised itself high in confusion while he stopped supporting his head and leaned forward against the stall. ¡°And what if I said, ¡°no¡±, Al?¡±

    Alvalar lowered his gaze while he rubbed his palm against the shaved down sides of his hair, carefully as to not touch his topknot. With a touch of sadness in his voice, he said, ¡°I sort of hoped you wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    Using the tip of his hard-worked, venous fingers, Karollus nudged Alvalar¡¯s face upward. When both of their eyes met, the birthday boy noticed that his former lover¡¯s expression had softened. ¡°Well don¡¯t worry. Although I was teasing you, I won¡¯t say no.¡±

    Despite feeling overjoyed and relived, Alvalar still pursed his lips and crossed his arms. He didn¡¯t like having his feelings played with. ¡°S-so, you had fun seeing me all flustered? Is that it?¡±

    Unabashedly like the honest man he was, Karollus nodded. ¡°Yes. Very much.¡± Then, much in line with his personality, his honesty transformed into a somewhat sad smile, his eyes downcast for a moment. ¡°However, once I noticed you got all sad, I didn¡¯t have fun anymore. Sorry.¡±

    With a quick click of his tongue, Alvalar grumbled out, ¡°you¡¯re lucky your cute and that I love your honesty.¡±

    Seemingly having heard what the birthday boy said, the baker¡¯s son let out his usual hiss like chuckle again; it sounded like he was making a quick s-sound almost resembling a snake¡¯s.

    Alvalar thought of Karollus¡¯ chuckle was weird when he heard it for the first time ever back in the Academy, but now that he¡¯s been used to it for years, he considered the once odd quirk to be endearing. Just hearing the quick ophidian inwardly laugh caused the birthday boy¡¯s heart to bloom with nostalgic warmth. ¡°So, you¡¯re going to come to my house, or visit me at Smoke¡¯s stall?¡± he asked, his voice thick with excitement.

    Resting his back against his chair, Karollus¡¯s laughter style receded as he was deep in thought for a moment as he ran his fingers through the facial hair he had grown around his chin since their break-up, however Alvalar noticed it wasn¡¯t being cared for properly; the kinky hair that added volume to his beard looked dry and more than a few gray hairs had sprouted.

    Perhaps he¡¯s stressed out at work? the birthday boy speculated. Or maybe he regrets breaking up?

    Before Alvalar''s heart had a chance to leap for joy at the possibility, Karollus finally spoke, ¡°Well¡­ I can¡¯t promise anything since today is very busy at the bakery. Dad told everyone to be all hands-on deck in this morning¡¯s briefing due to today being Coronation Day, while Grandma Kini is the only one who gets to relax, like always. She¡¯s probably upstairs in the living room right now, enjoying her books while periodically going downstairs into the bakery to nibble on sweets and breads.¡± For a moment, his voice had mild sprinklings of jealousy for his adopted parental grandmother¡¯s carefree lifestyle. ¡°However, since today is your birthday, I¡¯ll try my hardest to attend, since you¡¯ve attended my eighteenth birthday party back in Fall, but like I said before, I¡¯m not quite sure if I can keep my promise.¡±

    Even if there was a possibility of Karollus being unable to attend, there was also a simultaneous chance that he could. Even if that possibility was slim, it was still on the table of likely events to happen tonight, and with that, Alvalar was content. As though sharing his sentiments, Misu threw back her head and let out a mighty trill. Alvalar gave the calibress a smile, and patted her large head, sending the calibress into a melodic purr. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll take it.¡± Alvalar turned back to his former lover. ¡°So, how¡¯s your mama doing? Is her pregnancy being kind to her?¡±

    ¡°Well, recently yes,¡± Karollus confirmed with a reassuring smile on his face. His face always became somewhat gentler whenever he spoke of his family. ¡°She hasn¡¯t been puking as much as she did in beginning, though she has been gorging herself on freshly baked sweets despite El¨¦ trying to ease her away from that, being that the sweets are merchandise and all. Granny Kini has been feeding her some old Navi-K¨¦k¨¦ dishes that are said to soothe the pains of pregnancy and strengthen the unborn child, but they¡¯re mostly soup made from kelp that¡¯s collected from the nearby lake topped with various things like boiled fish eyes or chopped up pig¡¯s brain. According to ¨®roya Leona, the baby is strong and is due in the beginning of Summer, so it seems like the soup is actually working. Though, Aureliano got a bit queasy when he asked El¨¢ what she¡¯s been eating to strengthen the baby.¡±

    Alvalar chuckled at the thought of their friend¡¯s disgusted face. ¡°Yup, that sounds like him. But that¡¯s great to hear, Karo. Her pregnancy with the twins was quite a serious one, if I remember right. Hopefully, she doesn¡¯t suffer from the same complications. And the twins? How are they? Annoying yet cute as ever?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all they ever are, Al,¡± Karollus sighed deeply. ¡°Even though we broke up half a season ago, they still won¡¯t stop pestering me about you. When I go and pick the two of ¡®em up from the Academy, they ask about you the entire way home. Every single day without fail. They don¡¯t talk about things that they should concern them as children ¨C homework, tests, recess games, classmates they ¡°like-like¡±, teachers they think of as ¡°mean¡± ¨C just you. I know they miss you, but it¡¯s driving me nuts! Sometimes, I pray to Panirah that I had the ability to seal their mouths shut.¡±

    Alvalar chuckled at the baker¡¯s son¡¯s twining. Even if his words said otherwise, Alvalar knew that Karollus cared deeply for his family. Whenever his parents, Ezeki and Ekmear, couldn¡¯t attend certain functions at the Academy due to busy work at the bakery, Alvalar and Karollus would always stand in their place along with Grandma Kini, supporting the twins in whatever it is that they do. ¡°That¡¯s all fine and well. It¡¯s cute that Keian and Kyrah miss me, but what about you?¡± The birthday boy stared at Karollus with a surprising amount of confidence. He didn¡¯t know where it all came from, but he did know one thing for certain: he wanted to get his attention. ¡°Do you miss me too, Karo?¡±

    Karollus might¡¯ve froze for a moment, but his lips went right to scrunching upward as though this bear of a man had suddenly become bashful. Seemingly in a fluster, he covered his small mouth with the back of his palm, trying to hide his true feelings. ¡°No,¡± he answered.

    "Aw come now, Karo,¡± Alvalar deepened his voice seductively; a touch of giggling rung through his words. His previous plan of flirtation might¡¯ve failed, but his current one was going right as planned. ¡°You know that your too honest for your own good.¡± He lightly tapped his former lover¡¯s bulbous nose teasingly. ¡°Even if you try to lie, you can never really do it right. Just admit it. You miss me. Especially on long nights.¡±

    The baker¡¯s son chomped upward, purposefully missing and just inches away from Alvalar¡¯s finger too. ¡°Shut up,¡± he hissed. He began to move his hand outward in a shoo-ing motion. ¡°Just leave, Al.¡± His tone was uneasy as though he was trying to stay cold while having some bashfulness peek through at the same time. ¡°Y-your causing a line.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really now?¡± Alvalar peered out of the corner of his eye. ¡°Then that line must be made up of invisible customers because I don¡¯t see anyone.¡±

    Karollus¡¯ lips quivered so much that he couldn¡¯t help but let out a cute, embarrassed smile as though he¡¯d been caught. Even if he wanted to suppress it, he didn¡¯t seem like he was able to. ¡°D-D-Don¡¯t you have to go and help out Smoke?¡±

    ¡°I do, but I can stay here all day long if you want me too,¡± Alvalar replied with a sly grin.

    ¡°You know Smoke is going to give another cocotazo if you¡¯re late again, right? I wouldn¡¯t keep him waiting if I were you, Al,¡± his former lover answered in a cautious tone, his once embarrassed smile gone. Any attempt at keeping his face as cold as ice was melted away by a subtle tightening of his brows.

    Alvalar softened his grin into a simple affectionate quirk of his lips. ¡°I know, Karo. Thank you for caring for me.¡± He quickly poked Karollus¡¯ nose once more and gave an impish wink. ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re going to be able to attend tonight, try to bring your Guardian Beast cards. I made a new deck since we¡¯ve broken up and I want to battle you.¡±

    The baker¡¯s son¡¯s cautious, somewhat brooding expression had evaporated once Alvalar had mentioned the pair¡¯s favorite card game. The birthday boy was thankful for it. He disliked seeing his former lover distressed, and much preferred to see him smiling. Witnessing his lips turn upward and reveal his teeth, Karollus¡¯ smile could only be described as rivaling the beauty of the sun¡¯s morning glow over the horizon. He punched a clenched fist against his open palm and said, ¡°Then prepare to get beaten.¡± The baker¡¯s son spoke with such an innate sense of confidence that it left Alvalar feeling a tad jealous¡­

    ¡°Oh really? We¡¯ll just have to see about that, Karollus,¡± the birthday boy spoke with an impassive tone that shrouded his jealousy around his overall cheery mood. ¡°Come, Misu.¡± Alvalar patted his side and the caliber that had previously laid her body against the sun-burnt grass as she waited for her owner to be finished speaking had risen and arched her muscular back in a yawn.

    And just like that, Alvalar waved goodbye to his former lover and moved through the crowd with a pip in his step as Misu followed closely behind, absolutely breaming in overwhelming joy despite the hint of jealousy that absorbed itself into his heart. Maybe m¨¢m¨¢ was right, he thought. He couldn¡¯t help but find himself smiling. His heart grew warm and fuzzy. Maybe all we need to do is talk and we can get this little blimp and repair our relationship. I hope Karo can make it to the birthday party tonight.

    ?

    Through his peripheral vision, Alvalar saw how some businesses from the other side of Esperanza had stalls laid out by orange-and-green Idro bead-wearing business owners, shouting out and advertising that their particular food, clothing, paintings or jewelry were of the highest quality by offering free samples to passers-by. Nearby, the business owners¡¯ calibers were relaxing on their fancy pillow cases, either cleaning their massive paws or conserving energy in their tiny, false form as they enjoyed a snooze.

    Whether they be snow white, pitch black, chocolate like Misu or calico, the calibers¡¯ fur was all glossy and utterly beautiful. They looked as though they were brushed every single day. As Alvalar and Misu walked past, he saw how the still-awake calibers stopped their licking, took one whiff of his calibress then held their nose pompously up in the air.

    Navasarian artisanal culture dictates that a master craftsman must own at least one caliber and keep their overall appearance in tip-top shape and their fur gorgeous, indicating the quality of their owner¡¯s wares. Despite being a smith apprentice himself, Alvalar thought of the particular concept as utter bull. Already having and maintaining a caliber from as young as a three-week-old cub was indicative of his innate potential and the quality of his wares. Besides, Misu was better than five calibers combined, glossy-furred or not! Not only would she give him confidence with her approval licks, but if she could feel the potential of the design, but wasn¡¯t exactly seeing it the first-round, she would point out areas that could be improved upon. Even if his confidence plummeted, the two would play a game of charades to help him in areas the calibress felt the design could improve upon, and that always ended in him laughing and feeling a smidge better.

    Making a caliber look extra good and give them this spoiled treatment was just a way for business owners to show off who had the most gorgeous caliber ¨C a status symbol, really. But staking out (Idro-willing) future business rivals wasn¡¯t what he was here to do.

    Smoke¡¯s stall¡­ Where is it? Gaining a few inches to his height by standing on the tips of his toes didn¡¯t help him see over the heads of people. Of course, it didn¡¯t. He was too fat for any of it to make a difference. If he tried to jump, his weight would probably cause an earthquake. Perhaps I can go back and ask Karo for directions to papi¡¯s stall¡­? Alvalar turned around, but Karollus¡¯ stall was far out of sight in this ocean of people¨C

    Suddenly, he felt a hard thump hit him against his back. ¡°Oof!¡± A voice called out.

    Bobo! Alvalar cursed at himself. He felt his heartbeat nervously against his rib cage as he turned around. He locked eyes with an Athesanian Navi woman who had fallen on the ground and was mesmerized by how gorgeous she was, which only caused his heart to beat faster.

    Dressed in a long cloak that ran down her ankles, revealing the cheaply-made armor and padded guards that were tightly strapped over her clothing, especially around her arm and leg, her foot was hidden inside a strange-looking boot while a very un-Navasarian double-edged straight sword was secured at her side by a sword-belt, whose grip and cross-guard looked as though it was constructed as a single unit and whose metal looked like it was sculpted to resemble the spiraling motion of a powerful tornado, the woman looked like she could¡¯ve been a mercenary. With her bistre complexion, large, upturned lavender eyes that attracted attention away from the N brand that was seared into the flesh beneath her left eye, and her black microbraids that wrapped themselves tightly in a large bun, she certainly was a beautiful mercenary indeed.

    Realizing he was ogling rather than helping, Alvalar quickly shook his head and held out his hand. ¡°I-I-I-I¡¯m so sorry. P-please, Se?ora¡­?¡±

    ¡°Hu¨¯-H¨¨. Hu¨¯-H¨¨ Zhu¨®,¡± the woman replied with a beautiful smile that made Alvalar¡¯s heart swoon. With reference to her appearance, his eyes grew wide in surprise to hear a name whose utter pronunciation was so un-Athesanian. He was expecting her name to have either a harsh K or E sound, like Athesanian names tend to be, but her name was rather rhythmic, going up and down with the harsh Hs acting as peaks. The E-sound at the end was like a valley at the bottom of the bumpy mountain, sounding more like a U than anything else.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨ grabbed his hand and the birthday boy promptly pulled the mercenary woman up. ¡°It was my fault, really,¡± Hu¨¯-H¨¨ further explained in the crashing wave-like quickness and harshness of the Athaese language. ¡°I wasn¡¯t looking where I was going. Karam go for helping me to my feet.¡±

    Ready to reply in the fluent Athaese that he¡¯s used for the entire eleven-years of his education and for business negotiations with clients (despite sharing a common mother-tongue: Nava), Alvalar opened his mouth, but no words came out. Even his tongue felt like it was paralyzed, unable to touch the roof of his mouth and produce words, and so he stood there with his mouth hung open. Flushed to the point that steam started to rise from his warm cheeks, the birthday boy tried again; he opened his mouth and could feel his lips and tongue move, but ultimately when it came to producing speech, there was none. His stomach began to ache and his palms grew sweaty, but no matter how nervous he became, it didn¡¯t vomit out any words. Not even a stuttering string of words that was practically incomprehensible.

    Strangely, those dazzling, lavender eyes of hers widened with a sense of realization. Realization of what, Alvalar wasn¡¯t exactly sure. Maybe that he looked like an utter fool? Possibly.

    However, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ reached out her hand, and her lips began to quiver, readying itself for spee-

    With a low chattering of her teeth and the fluffing up of fur, Misu stepped forward and positioned herself between her owner and the female mercenary like a broad-shouldered wall guarding an untouched garden filled with flowers from invaders.

    As he watched his easy-going caliber become unusually aggressive, Alvalar¡¯s heart started to race while his stomach did summersaults. ¡°M-Misu!¡± he finally choked out. But the calibress didn¡¯t so much glance back at him in response; she was strangely too tetchy right now.

    ¡°?Que pas¨®?¡± a low mumbled voice asked in Nava. ¡°No se,¡± another voice answered. ¡°The boy¡¯s caliber just started to tell that woman to back off. Maybe it senses something about her?¡±

    Alvalar followed the voices and noticed a crowd beginning to form of fellow craftsmen from nearby stalls, former teachers like Professor Munio of Mathematics and Professor Ort¨²n of Nava, and even people he¡¯s never seen before all staring at him with anxiously knitted brows and hands over their mouths as they whispered to one another about the situation; the birthday boy felt the once embarrassed-filled warmth drain from his tawny face¡­

    However, he swallowed all the unwanted attention and gripped at the nape of Misu¡¯s chocolate neck, using every inch of his strength to hold her back. ¡°Ogumpo, Misu!¡± He ordered in Athaese.

    She didn¡¯t listen to his demand to heel. It was as though she sensed something he couldn¡¯t. Nearly causing him to lose his footing, the calibress let out a mighty roar and stood on her hind-legs, blotting out the sun behind her and sending the crowd into a frightened terror, culminating in Hu¨¯-H¨¨ falling to the ground in fear.

    Alvalar reached in deeper within himself and yanked the nape of Misu¡¯s neck back as far as he could. Sweat started to slither down his back as his heart raced anxiously. His fingers grew tense, his arms and shoulders screaming from the strain of the unusually quick movements¨C

    But his fast-thinking was ultimately rewarded; going from a behemoth of four hundred pounds to only fifteen, the birthday boy forced his caliber to unwillingly size-shift back into her tiny, false form, dangling there in the air by the scruff of her neck with her hind-legs and tail swaying side to side vigorously, her round ears dawn back. His muscles eased and relaxed as he kept her close to his chest, but the calibress refused to so much as meet her owner¡¯s gaze as though he had done something foolish. However, letting her become unruly and potentially hurt someone was the real foolishness.

    As he watched the people around them dispersed now that the scene was dealt with, Alvalar let out a sigh of relief. All of that tenseness, that anxiety, had rolled over his shoulder like river water plummeting down a waterfall. However, he met the gaze of Professor Munio and Professor Ort¨²n as they were leaving, each with a look of disapproval. Catching sight of that look in their eyes downed that sense of relief and replaced it with a nagging sensation of shame, sending his now-sheepishly gaze downward. Professor Munio of Mathematics and Professor Ort¨²n of Nava were Alvalar¡¯s favorite professors back at the Academy. They always knew how to make lessons fun and had a way to make concepts that initially sounded confusing actually quite easy to understand. They always used to look at him the same they looked at the other students, with a sense of pride (especially when he got a question correct), but now...

    The birthday boy drifted his line of sight with a turn of his head and noticed how Hu¨¯-H¨¨ still sat on the ground, hands shaking and trembling while her lavender eyes shimmered with fear. Within him, the shame swelled like a balloon, leaving him with an urge to hide from the world. Misu must¡¯ve looked terrifying and his authority as the owner practically seemed non-existent, which didn¡¯t help the situation. How unfit it must¡¯ve made him look.

    Regardless of the shame and embarrassment he felt, Alvalar still stepped forward, looking at the female mercenary. ¡°H-Hu¨¯-H¨¨?¡± It was difficult to replicate the pronunciation of her name, but he did his best. He crouched down slightly and offered her his free hand. ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    The female mercenary glanced upward at him then returned her sights back onto her quivering hands for what felt like a while. Eventually Hu¨¯-H¨¨ closed her eyes and her chest sharply rose as she inhaled a deep breath. She tightened her fist and her fits of trembling soon steadied. When she opened her eyes again, her lavender pupils had a determined shine to them, like she had something, or someone, more important on her mind. ¡°I am now,¡± she replied with a slight groan as she rose to her feet.

    Straightening his feet, Alvalar began to chew at his bottom lip anxiously as he placed his freed, un-used hand beside him. ¡°Ezii, I don¡¯t know what provoked my Caliber like that,¡± he apologized profusely. ¡°She isn¡¯t normally that aggressive. Or aggressive at all for that matter.¡±

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨ waved off his apology with an awkward smile. ¡°No, I¡¯m sure she is. It¡¯s my fault for being careles-¡± Suddenly her eyes went wide and her eyebrows were raised up high like something important out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. ¡°Ezii, but I have to get going,¡± she told with a slight bow of the head. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll see each other during the Coronation tonight. Have a nice day. Kari-Kari.¡± She gave another bow of the head and hurriedly dashed off into the crowd before Alvalar could reply with a Kari-Kari of his own.

    It left a mildly bitter taste in his mouth, but that was nothing compared to the taste of embarrassment. Alvalar then turned to the reason that he lost face and held her upward, so she had to look at him no matter what. ¡°What was that all about, Misu?¡± he asked sternly.

    The calibress puffed out a soft pocket of air from her nostrils in reply. Aside from being able to sniff out materials of the highest quality and the hidden potential in both people and concepts, calibers were also famed for their ability to smell the intent of people, whether good or bad. Their noses were infamously powerful, and Misu¡¯s nose was no different. As her owner, Alvalar knew that better than anyone else, but that could that really be it? Hu¨¯-H¨¨ might¡¯ve been mysterious, but that doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s harboring any ill intentions, and that certainly doesn¡¯t warrant Misu attacking her the way she did.

    Suddenly, his little Misu began to wiggle wildly from side to side. Still within his grasp, Alvalar tried to hold her still, but that lithe little caliber managed to gain her freedom and landed on the ground. She shifted back into her true, behemoth size, since the mechanism that forced her into this tiny, false size had finished for the time being, and looked over her shoulder, finally staring into her owner¡¯s chocolate eyes.

    Those green irises of hers still had inklings of discontent, but they seemed more preoccupied with something else. Before Alvalar could even wonder what it was, Misu let out a deep groan that reverberated through the air and motioned forward with a slight inclination of her head. Come on, let¡¯s get a move on and find Smoke¡¯s stall, she seemed to say. I¡¯m tired of this.

    Alvalar rolled his eyes. Still as bossy as ever, he thought as he followed her through the crowd.

    It took a while to find his father¡¯s stall. Alvalar expected it to be in the center with the other artisans and other smiths, with a sign in big-bold letters saying, ¡°Smoke¡¯s Smith¡±, but instead found it on the other side of the festival grounds, bordering between Esperanza and the Zahrah jungle that surround the town ¨C a place nobody wanted to be, especially when night came.

    Not only that, but it was more like a hurriedly made shack than an open-air stall that allowed their products to be seen out in the open. It had the sign like he expected, but papi was always cautious and paranoid that rivals would still his secrets and techniques, so the shack¡¯s only openings were the long green-and-orange curtain with Idro¡¯s mighty caliber symbol on the front that acted as the door and the medium-sized hole in the ceiling that allowed trickles of smoke to escape.

    Smoke wasn¡¯t the antisocial type that would isolate himself from others, so Alvalar could¡¯ve even begin to come up with an explanation. It was odd. His presentation and choice of setting wouldn¡¯t provide him any potential new customers from Ram Head or farther places to his permanent shop in Esperanza¡¯s small business district, either. Papi¡¯ll be too stubborn to move the shack if Alvalar tried persuading him. Besides, Coronation Day was just that ¨C a day that comes every who-knows-when ¨C so perhaps papi was being realistic. By tomorrow, Tio Alejandro¡¯s reincarnation will already be given Inferno and off on his little journey while papi¡¯ll be back in his store and Alvalar would be there right alongside him, dusting the items on the storefront, dealing with customers that came in and forging upcoming orders from their Book of Orders (his favorite part).

    Not wanting to waste time and risk getting an even larger cocotazo than he knew he was getting for already being late, however, Alvalar stop being critical of his father¡¯s choices and pulled back the green-and-orange Idro curtain, and entered, Misu following in closely behind¨C

    ¡°Don¡¯t go calling me navito. Yo no soy un navito, and I¡¯m especially not your navito anymore, Capit¨¢n Alvarez,¡± Smoke spoke with a clear sense of defiance.

    In shock, Alvalar followed his father¡¯s voice and saw him dealing with a heavy-set elderly Navasarian man with brown skin and eyes of crimson, dressed in high-class clothing made of fine cotton. His old, wrinkled grip fixated on a diamond-tipped cane while his feet were clad in riding boots.

    Coupled by the tone of his comment, Papi¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t the least pleased in the slightest. His Tilithian golden eyes stared at the man in front of him like the edge of a sharpened blade, his lips slightly aback as though in utter disgust while his work clothes ¨C consisting of a loose undershirt, trousers and boots ¨C were stained with charred marks here and there, arms folded. The N-scar that was burned into his bronze flesh was scrunched up.

    Alvalar then looked back at this man who looked to be in his late sixties, at first with a sense of surprise, but that quickly faded away. His fists then clenched up as tightly as they could and then a storm of steam began to erupt from his palm while his heart roared with a blazing fury.

    In his youth, Alvalar had heard horror stories of how this Capit¨¢n Alvarez used to whip Papi and Tio Alejandro senseless and then continue the torture while the pair were imprisoned inside a dirty and sweltering hot hut, chained to the wall and without a crumb of food for a fortnight all due to issues in the plantation¡¯s forge that were beyond the control of the two young men, but for him to actually see the man that caused his father all that pain, all those tears at just recounting his youth¡­ O¡¯ how Alvalar wanted to char that fat bastard¡¯s ochre-brown skin to the point that the burns will forever torture him.

    Capit¨¢n Alvarez, as ill-bred as he was fat, growled, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak to me as though we¡¯re anything short of equals. Never forget those pirates on La Isla de Oro will enslave you if they ever get their hands on you, you maleducado Navi. And who will be left laughing? Me!¡± He spat in papi¡¯s face and lowered his cane. He cocked his head downward and Alvalar saw the man¡¯s crimson eyes briefly dart to the side and his lips quirk upward into a disgusting smirk before glancing back at Smoke. ¡°If that comes to pass, I¡¯ll might just purchase you again. Don¡¯t you miss that abandoned boh¨ªo where we used to have all sorts of fun together? I do. I can hear the boh¨ªo, and it tells me constantly how it misses you too.¡±

    Readying her claws, Misu¡¯s fur started to fluff up while her teeth chattered, chu chu chu. She glanced up at Alvalar as though begging him to give her the order to have this man¡¯s head ripped from his shoulders, but he simply eased the grip on his fist, steam still not dissipating.

    Not yet.

    Esperanza was (and still is) a town established for and by the escaped Navi of the Safra region in Navasar and their free descendants ¨C a palenque ¨C using the thick wilderness of jungle, various traps scattered along trails and the lore surrounding the nightly Zahrah to the inhabitants¡¯ upmost advantage from being discovered by slave-catchers. Isolation and being autonomous has been a common habit for Esperanza during the two hundred-years it has been used as a sacred place of refuge, but in the last three years this habit has waned slightly in the effort to stimulate more trade with various nearby towns and villages, and bring more money into the town.

    That being said, everyone, be they natives of Esperanza or outsiders, must adhere to the Town Codes, and outsiders go through a series of harsh interrogations before they ever stepped foot on Esperanzian soil, but it was utterly remarkable as to how Capit¨¢n Alvarez managed to slip through considering his status. Taking bribes, especially from slave masters, to gain the location of and entrance into Esperanza was a major offense but attacking such slave masters wouldn¡¯t be¡­ Alvalar glanced back at his calibress and considered it for a moment but thought against it once again. In closed quarters like this, it would certainly be sloppy work.

    When the bastard leaves this shack, however, everything else is fair game.

    Alvalar looked back at his father and saw those angrily determined golden irises of his glaring at the man that enslaved him all those years ago. By the grit of his teeth and with the swiftness of a kirili bird, Smoke unsheathed his oldest dagger from his thigh holster and stabbed her sharply into the thick wooden countertop, and with a tight grip too; with such sudden movement, both his large Idro beads and gorgeous Tilithian wedding wristlet that was given to him by his husband Tariq during their wedding last summer, swayed and collided with one another, creating a subtle jingle.

    Despite being nearly three decades old, Estrella¡¯s onyx blade glimmered brightly against the few slight rays of light that managed to peak through the light fabric that hung itself at the door as though she had been freshly forged and sharpened that very morning. With piedra de calor fragments incorporated into her blade, she resembled the casting of twinkling crimson stars across the night. ¡°If you think I¡¯m going to let myself be enslaved again, you are as stupid as you are obese,¡± Smoke hissed. ¡°I¡¯m not that terrified, subservient boy I used to be. Trust me on that.¡±

    Alvalar glanced at Misu, whom caught her owner¡¯s gaze. He motioned over with the pursing of his lips. To best drive papi¡¯s point home is to get that rat out of here and have him¡­ enjoy a brief dose of exercise.

    Slowly like a predator closing on her prey, Misu silently made her way over to Capitan Alvarez. Without him noticing her closeness, the caliber raised her head back and let out the loudest roar she could muster.

    Capitan Alvarez leaped at the sudden noise and had done so again once he turned around and got a look of Misu. Evidently, he seems to be quite frightened of calibers. Excellent. However, in his fear, he grabbed a good hold of his cane and hit the chocolate calibress with a stone-hard thwack of his cane. Voicing her pain, Misu let out a soft whimper.

    Alvalar¡¯s heart stopped. The ability to breath left him for what felt like ages. Even time seemed to slow down.

    Despite the whimper however, Misu was a sturdy creature, just like all calibers. As though to shake off the pain, she roughly shook her head side to side then shot Capitan Alvarez a glare.

    ¡°Begone, daemon cat!¡± The slave-master shrilled out in terror, stepping back. He attempted to hit the chocolate calibress once again, but no animal was going to allow itself to be hit a second time.

    When the cane nearly graced her furry cheek, Misu immediately shifted into her small, cat-like false form. Despite being small and extremely lithe, this wasn¡¯t the form that she wanted nor needed. It was just to dodge the attack. As soon as the cane raced across the open air in that one fluid strike ¨C ultimately missing the its intended target ¨C she leaped up into the air and shifted back into her much larger form, plummeting Capitan Alvarez to the floor with her massive weight.

    Witnessing Misu¡¯s admittedly terrifying teeth-bearing snarl, the once big and tough slave owner began to whimper, tears sprouting from his crimson eyes. If Capitan Alvarez was some sweet viejito, Alvalar would¡¯ve taken pity on him and called Misu off. But he wasn¡¯t. According to the stories papi used to tell, this man was far from being anything remotely similar to kind, and as such no such sympathetic feelings arose from within Alvalar.

    As he watched the man crawl desperately out from under Misu, Alvalar felt a sense of satisfaction ¨C a sense of power ¨C rise from deep within. Revenge truly was sweet. As the feeling lingered, he felt the steam that arose from his hand dissipate, as he was no longer angered.

    Forgetting his cane, Capitan Alvarez nearly raced to the shack¡¯s door before remembering his oh so precious cane, but Alvalar didn¡¯t forget. He wouldn¡¯t dare.

    The metalsmith apprentice picked up the cane from the grass floor with his dominant left hand, and instead of returning the walking-stick, he pointed it at the slave-master as though it was sword. ¡°Seems as though you forgot MY caliber,¡± Alvalar announced loudly. ¡°Misu, escort this come miedra out of Esperanza. Show him what happens when a slave master visits a palenque.¡±

    The fear further bore into Capitan Alvarez¡¯s copper face and he didn¡¯t dare wait any longer by the shack¡¯s open door. He ran out, huffing and puffing. Misu shortly gave chase. She always did enjoy giving rodents ahead start.

    As he watched and heard the man¡¯s cries fade away, the feeling of satisfaction continued and eventually engulfed Alvalar¡¯s entire body. It was as though he was on a cloud, and a giant smile painted itself on his fat tawny face. Lowering the cane in his hand, he turned to look back at his father. Instead of seeming amused or pride in how far he¡¯s come from being that enslaved little boy, Smoke let out a sigh, raising his shoulders but they seemed drifted back down so tiredly. His gold eyes lowered as though he was lost in deep thought.

    ¡°?Papi, t¨² ta bien?¡± Alvalar asked softly with a concern look on his face.

    Smoke didn¡¯t respond immediately. He just took another deep breath. Then, with the accompaniment of trembling lips, he began to shed tears. As his face became more and more contorted with rivers of tears racing down his face, Alvalar felt his heart ache and begin to rip in two as he watched his father crumble. It must be utterly traumatic to see the man that once enslaved and abused you mentally, physically and sexually. Murmurs of sniffling filled the makeshift shack as Smoke wiped his tears away with the back of his hand but they just kept falling. ¡°Si, Hijo,¡± Smoke answered, his voice raspy and shaky. He let out another deep breath before looking over at his son, his eyes pink from tears and his face a slightly redder tinge. ¡°Gracias, but don¡¯t worry about me. Don¡¯t let me be all crying-and-whatnot ruin your eighteenth birthday, okay?¡±

    As long as his father was okay, Alvalar wasn¡¯t going to pry into the man¡¯s feelings any further or draw the topic out. If he wanted the topic to be over, then it was good as over. ¡°Okay,¡± he said with a nod.

    ¡°Bien,¡± the Master Metalsmith replied with a slight nod. He let out another heavy breath and gave a few pats on his son¡¯s upper arm and retrieved Estrella from out of the wooden table. When he sheathed her back in his thigh holster, he sat back in his seat with much care and wiped away the tears one more time before coughing to try to get his emotions under control. ¡°S-so, did you, um, bring your designs for the customer¡¯s order? You didn¡¯t forget ¡®em right?¡±

    ¡°Not if I want to be p-put on boring old fire-keeping d-duty,¡± Alvalar chuckled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up designs.

    ¡°Or being yelled at for being late,¡± Smoke added with gentle yet somber smile. ¡°Don¡¯t think I forgot, Al.¡± With an outreached hand, he took the paper and opened it. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what we have here,¡± he mumbled, his eyes darting around the page. ¡°Order number, check¡­ Client¡¯s name ¨C Maite¡¯s Bakery, check¡­ A sizable amount of spoon designs for her to choose from, check¡­ the correct percentages of differing metals to create said designs¡­ And another good round of designs. I would improve on the handle a little. It looks like a too skinny near the base that it looks like it can snap off like a tooth-pick, but if Misu gave them her seal of approval, they must be good¡­ Good enough to inherit the store.¡± Smoke looked into his son¡¯s eyes knowingly.

    Not this again. Alvalar rolled his eyes. ¡°?Papi, ya! I told you I¡¯m not ready yet.¡±

    ¡°?Ah, no empieces con eso mieda, ¨¢lvalar! This is your thirtieth client,¡± The Master Metalsmith smacked his lips angrily, his hands moving every which way. ¡°You¡¯ve even designed and forged all that cutlery for my wedding last summer, or did you forget how you came with Karollus to drop them off unexpectedly in the morning? Or how people at the wedding liked them so much that we decided to stock the cutlery section of the store with your spoons, and forks, and knifes? Tariq paid like 500 Gold-speckled Calibers to buy the whole next batch to take back to Tilith with him! Face it, Alvalar, you don¡¯t need me anymore. You can do everything by yourself now. You¡¯re ready. Trust me.¡±

    How could Alvalar forget? He and Karollus were planning that two moons in advance as gifts, and all those nights he and Karollus should¡¯ve been asleep was instead spent in the store after hours, melting and hammering and sharpening down those raw silver ingots into form and hiding them away until the special day arrived. It was hard work and there were plenty arguments, but it was so worth it end. Witnessing Smoke in that long golden Tilithian robe with many layers of jewel-adorned fabric underneath, holding Tariq¡¯s hands with tears in his eyes, Alvalar¡¯s mind kept on wondering on how his future wedding with Karollus would look. Thinking about it now stung, but¡­ But no matter how much praise his father gave, Alvalar wasn¡¯t ready.

    ¡°Not yet, papi,¡± the metalsmith apprentice answered. ¡°There was this beautiful woman who I bumped into on the way looking for your stall today. She had a sword strapped to her side, but I couldn¡¯t make out where it was from based on the design. It had none of the four Navasarian styles engraved on it. How can I take over the business if I can¡¯t even tell where that blade is from? What if a customer comes in and wants his blade to be made in that style? I can¡¯t do it ¨C I only know the four styles of Navasarian blade-smithing. And if he still doesn¡¯t want it in any of our styles, we¡¯ll lose money!¡± Alvalar loudly stomped his feet in deviance, but then soon found himself taking a deep breath to cool down. He didn¡¯t want it to turn into a fight. ¡°I mean, you did so much for me and my mama. You helped her when she was out on the streets while being pregnant with me and brought her here to Esperanza and helped through the interview process at the town gate. You even bought her a house out of your own pocket, even though you aren¡¯t my biological father and you¡¯ve got a daughter of your own. You even took me on as your apprentice when I was twelve and got me Misu a year later from Karollus¡¯s dad after our first major assignment together.¡± He could feel his face get hot as a lump in his throat began to form. His eyes begin to sprout with tears and his lips began to tremble. ¡°Y-You''ve done so much for us. I-I-I love you too much to potentially put your business in d-d-danger, papi.¡±

    Smoke sighed and rubbed his temples together. With the upper part of his face covered by his hand, his lips moved, speaking, ¡°I love you too, Alvalar, but you¡¯ve got to have more confident in your abilities, and in yourself in general. It¡¯ll be an important quality in the future. Besides, what if you don¡¯t know another country¡¯s style of making things like swords and the like? You aren¡¯t expected to. You don¡¯t live in whatever country that sword is made in. And if that person still doesn¡¯t want your stuff, fuck them and their money. They can take it somewhere else.¡±

    Knowing he couldn¡¯t retort back, Alvalar held his tongue. From the lack of confidence to not being responsible for not knowing another country¡¯s blade-smithing technique if a potential customer asked for it ¨C everything that his father said was completely true. Everyone said it. Alvalar couldn¡¯t deny it, but gaining confidence is easier said than done.

 VI - Zayd

    The mellow fragrance of local Panjkorian dune-lemons wafted through the warm air as a namkita washed the Zaipha¡¯s long raven hair with mint oil of the Bilithgoric variety. Cutting through the smell of the dune-lemons like a well-sharpened blade, the mint oil was rather crisp and strong to the nose, but also refreshing; it was like touching a stalagmite of zakroa¡¯zukae in the coldest underwater cavern on a blistering hot day. The heated bathwater covered Zayd¡¯s skin, sucking all the ache and pain that still resided within his muscles from today¡¯s terraizing training.

    At least this¡¯ll be the last day of training, he thought, staring off into space.

    However, as soon as the thought entered his mind, it didn¡¯t bring about a feeling of thankfulness that sung the praises of the Oxi. Instead, it brought about gut-swarming anxiety at the recollection that his family wouldn¡¯t be attending tonight¡¯s Coronation. This¡¯ll be the last day he¡¯ll be able to see his father and sister before he goes on his journey¡­ They just had to come.

    Water suddenly poured from above, washing off any oil residue. The ringing sound of the namkitas¡¯ anklets reverberated off the walls about as they worked together in carefully draining the water from Zayd¡¯s hair. Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter, the water roared loudly as it clashed against the private bath¡¯s stone ground. The servants¡¯ hands moved as though they were blessed by Yutlol ¨C the Oxi of bathing, healing, and fragrance; Daughter of Naar and Yama. Mother would¡¯ve pulled and pulled despite all Zayd¡¯s pleas.

    ¡°Zaipha Al-Faris, are you able to stand?¡± asked Uzi, the namkita in charge of bathing today. Her voice was almost as soothing and caring as the water.

    ¡°Dem,¡± the young Zaipha responded and rose to his feet. Bath water slithered down Zayd¡¯s skin and continued to do so as he walked, the height of the water getting lower and lower. Without his glasses, everything was blurry and colors shifted with one another. But with his sense of touch and hearing, nothing was impossible. Might be tricky at times, yes, but not impossible.

    ¡°Ah, Zaipha, careful. You are nearing the steps of the bath,¡± Akmira, another namkita, cautioned with great worry. She was always a worrywart of a girl, especially given that she was a new servant who started working at the Naraum a week ago.

    Zayd knew that Akmira was just trying to be helpful, but it was irritating to be treated like a delicate flower. Being bathed in this private bathhouse for eight years meant that he wasn¡¯t going to make a silly little mistake like unexpectedly pump into the stairs and hurt himself. He knew where he was going. However, a Zaipha shouldn¡¯t be rude, especially to a young one. And so, Zaipha Al-Faris gave a gentle smile and turned to where Akmira¡¯s voice had come from. ¡°Yes. May the Oxi bless you for your carefulness, Akmira, however, I¡¯m very aware of my surroundings. I know that the steps are right here.¡±

    A few giggles ringed through the bath¡¯s walls, followed by Akmira¡¯s quiet attempt to have them silenced as Zayd put out his foot out and felt solid rock. He continued to do so as he climbed out of the bath, one by one, until he felt the bumpy foundation of cobblestone grace his feet.

    A horde of feet clattered against the floor as he heard Uzi, Akmira and the other namkita make it to where he was. Water was still dripping from every inch of his body but that was quickly patted away by soft, cloud-like sheets of cotton. Jingles of anklets fluttered the air once again, and the end of a comb carefully starting from his scalp and finishing just above his knees before starting back up at his scalp filled his senses.

    Hair was important in Tilithian culture. Like the million grains of sand that covered Tilith¡¯s landscape no matter the millennium, long hair represented vitality and long life. If it was ever cut short, it would spell a disastrously short live for its wearer. As for the Zaipha, hair was divinely important; the longer the hair, the more insurance that the reincarnation cycle would continue on, so the namkita were careful with their combing.

    With his hair now combed and as dry as they could get it, they moved on to braiding. As they tightly weaved the hair, soft sheets of linen were wrapped around Zayd¡¯s hips in layers that stopped little above his ankles. A heavier weaved cloth made of cotton ¨C the ceremonial Yunook ¨C was then placed over the layers of linen and began to be bound by a strip of what felt to be kakory silk. Clouds of browns and greens came together here and there, melting into one another seamlessly, so while it might¡¯ve been difficult for Zayd to pinpoint where was what, the texture of it all wasn¡¯t. The yunook was softer and more elastic than anything he¡¯s ever worn before. It was a higher grade than his pet kakory, Sidra, could weave together. (Sorry, Sidra.) It was also strapped around his waist, keeping everything in place quite tight¡­ tighter than Zayd would¡¯ve liked, but he didn¡¯t complain. No Zaipha complained, and Zayd certainly won¡¯t be the first.

    ¡°Zaipha Al-Faris, I¡¯m going to be placing the Kashan band around your neck,¡± Zanini, another, more experienced namkita explained from behind. ¡°Alert me when the tightening is to your liking.¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Zayd said with a cheery smile as he tried to shake off the tightening discomfort that the kakory silk around his hips brought.

    The Kashan neckband ¨C the other official signifier of the Weapon Wielder of Tilith besides his Holy pair of war-hammers ¨C was colder than he expected when its metal slowly closed around his skin, causing Zayd to shudder and recoil. ¡°Why is it so cold?¡± he growled.

    The coldness that the Kashan possessed stopped from closing in and moved away from his skin. ¡°Please forgive me, Zaipha Al-Faris,¡± Zanini said, her voice genuine. ¡°A million apologizes! I just thought since it¡¯s really hot today, even hotter than normal, and how your skin turns a deep red color whenever in such an environment, a nice cold neckband would cool you down some and refresh you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a nice cool zakroa¡¯zukae would be refreshing, but not the thing that goes around my neck!¡± He yelled. ¡°You¡¯ll have me look a fool, trembling and shaking as I go about, checking on tonight¡¯s processions. Honestly now, think! Or are you that stupid that you can¡¯t even think?¡±

    Zayd waited to hear a response, but no such thing came. In fact, all the clatter of feet and voices came to a halt, leaving the private bath as quiet as a graveyard. He suddenly felt embarrassed at his childish outburst but didn¡¯t allow it to show. ¡°Just hurry it up,¡± he growled. ¡°I don¡¯t have all day.¡±

    The clatter of feet and the voices, if awkward and slightly cautious, resumed. One Namita added shoes to his feet while another finished the braiding. But not Zanini. She was quiet, but as she ended up wrapping the Kashan band around his neck, Zayd heard the sniffling of her nose as though she was trying her hardest to hold back tears.

    He stood frozen for a moment, wondering if his ears were deceiving him, but they weren¡¯t. Then embarrassment morphed into shame. Not even when one of the namkita grabbed some fat from his stomach and gave him his weekly manhood shot erased the feeling.

    Zayd couldn¡¯t go back in time and stop himself from getting angry, to stop himself from speaking to Zanini as though she was some type of animal. What¡¯s done is done, no matter the regret he felt. He had to accept the consequences of his actions, but when he realized that, it only made him clench his fist and hang his head.

    Gruummmmbbbbblllleeee.

    The sound of the cane¡¯s tip sliding along the ground from side to side across filled Zayd¡¯s ears while the uninterrupted, repetitive movement let him know nothing was in his way, but the memory of how he treated Zanini still replayed in his head. In fact, the cold Kashan neckband was indeed refreshing against the hot desert sun as he walked out of the Private Bath and onto the Naraum¡¯s grounds, grabbing onto the back of Elder Zamya¡¯s arm for her guidance and  descriptions of things that were beyond his line of available sight. And it only made him feel worse.

    ¡°You¡¯re not as talkative as you usually are,¡± Elder Zamya noticed. ¡°Is something troubling you, little one?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s just that today hasn¡¯t been going like how I expected it to. From what the scrolls say and from what I¡¯m able to recall from some past lives, Coronation Day is supposed to be a time of much joy and nostalgia ¨C a time of togetherness and celebration ¨C but it hasn¡¯t been like that. Not for me, anyway. Not only that my family isn¡¯t coming to the celebration, but I also acted out and treated Zanini poorly because of it. I said something awful to her ¨C something I regret and wish I can take back.¡±

    ¡°What did you say?¡±

    His mouth hanged open hesitantly at first, as though he was ashamed to repeat them, but then his mouth and tongue soon began to move and those very same words slipped through his lips one by one. Now that he wasn¡¯t irritated, he realized the vileness of his words.

    Elder Zamya harshly inhaled her breath, almost sounding like a gasp. With his glasses on, Zayd saw a slight rumble of the Overseer of Panjkora¡¯s cascading yellow robes and bronze skin, though the exact gesture was quite tricky. If he had to guess, she probably put her free hand over her mouth in shock.  ¡°I agree,¡± she murmured, surprised. ¡°That is awful.¡±

    ¡°I know. She was just trying to take care of me ¨C trying to be considerate ¨C but instead I got irritated and said that to her, talking to her as though she was some type of animal. Not only that, but I also made her cry. My words clearly struck a cord with her, but I¡­¡± He sighed and hang his head once again. ¡°I don¡¯t know if saying anything will repair the damage.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Perhaps you can ask the Oxi for forgiveness and then apologize to Zanini afterwords,¡± Elder Zamya suggested. ¡°Maybe the Oxi will even gift you with the right apology.¡±

    But will the Oxi really forgive the Zaipha? The doubt began to creep into Zayd¡¯s mind. If Zayd was an Oxi, he certainly wouldn¡¯t. But perhaps the Oxi weren¡¯t as harsh and rigid as him. ¡°Can we try?¡± he asked sheepishly.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Elder Zamya replied with an encouraging, soft tone. ¡°And after that, we¡¯ll check up on tonight¡¯s dinner preparations.¡±

    ¡°Wait, but I thought we were going to go review the food right now,¡± Zayd said, finally raising his head back up.

    ¡°That can wait a few minutes. Asking the Oxi for guidance is much more important.¡±

    With a smile, Zayd couldn¡¯t agree more. Elder Zamya was always kind and keen of the ear to people¡¯s problems. She was just like Tak-tuk, the Oxi of Issues and Solutions. But calling upon Tak-tuk wasn¡¯t going to be enough. Even Tak-tuk could make mistakes; Oxi, not matter the domain, are not perfect beings, so Zayd needed all ten Oxi when asking for advice and forgiveness. Not just one.

    ¡°The namkita are going to opening up the door that¡¯s coming up,¡± Elder Zamya mentioned, her gate slowing down.

    Listening to the Elder of Panjkora¡¯s directions, Zayd slowed his walking until it came to a halt; the tip of his cane was as still as Sidra past moon rise all bundled up in his little sand burrow. Being reminded of his little kakory and the all those little bumps on his dry skin that Zayd used to love petting for hours on end elevated his mood even more.

    Looking at what was in front of him, the Tilithian Weapon Wielder saw a blurry mass of what looked to be made of pure darkness come into view. According to what Elder Zamya said once, the mass was actually an exquisitely-carved giant door made of wood from the resilient Charcoal Tree sitting near Panjkora¡¯s watering hole as it towered over all the native palm and apricot trees. Back when the Charcoal Tree was but a mere sapling fourteen years after The Conquest, it was personally donated by Amphitrite during The Occupation to ease tensions in the home-oasis. It still amazed Zayd that Panjkora and his previous incarnation at that time, Cairo the Traitor, accepted such a thing from the very same woman who systemically attempted to kill off Tilith¡¯s many dialects and cultures and replace it with her ¡°superior¡± Athaese language and influence.

    Well, with an epithet like that, what could Zayd expect from his predecessor? But still¡­ shouldn¡¯t have Cairo put his foot down? According to the scrolls, Cairo adored Tilith, so why would he agree to such a thing? The thought of betraying your country, your people,  just so someone else ¨C a former friend ¨C can come and take advantage of not only it but also you, left a bad taste in Zayd¡¯s mouth, reminding him of Cixi and all those heated fights she had with Alejandro and Omaya.

    Despite losing some holes in his memory of Omaya¡¯s life, Cixi¡¯s words still rang as clear as the day she left the conference room in an angered-fueled puff. ¡°Just remember this, Alejandro. Next time we meet, I won¡¯t be the same old Cixi anymore.¡±

    Not only did chills run down his spine, but his blood began to boil¨C

    The door suddenly let out a loud groan, causing the Weapon Wielder of Tilith to be released from his thoughts and memories. It was for the best. He couldn¡¯t risk getting angry, especially today where plenty of people are going to be gathering. The door¡¯s groaning grew louder and louder as the minutes went on, almost like an echo, until it came to a sudden stop.

    Elder Zamya continued her walking, and Zayd followed as he thanked the namkita who opened the door for the two of them. The rumbling noise that came about from sliding the tip of his cane across the floor came to a halt once he passed through the doorway. The ground wasn¡¯t as rough as the ground that was paved outside in the open desert. It was much smoother, like the same smoothness as the tiles that were in his bedroom upstairs.

    The smell of Panjkorian favorites such as Navasou, a hearty stew cooked with plenty of ground lamb, spices, onions, carrots and plump red tepary beans, sweet Yaviya tarts and Garbanzo con Bak¡¯yo from the nearby noisy kitchen stuck around in the air thanks to the cooling and fuzzy blue orbs of zakroa¡¯zukae that littered the wall together with that pesky all-too-bright hakfe¡¯zukae.

    It might¡¯ve looked nice for sighted people to have those light stone fragments light their hallways, but not for Zayd. Despite wearing his special glasses, his vision only worsened. His eyes ached with pain as he squinted as best he can, his surroundings all morphed into this accursed wall of light due to the light stone always having this glaring effect, be they fragments or that giant stalagmite that jutted out from the Community Prayer Room ceiling.

    Thankfully however, Zayd had his cane and Elder Zamya here to help.

    After a turn to the right and passing by the fifth door, the smell of the nostalgic foodstuff finally drifted into the background and the hakfe¡¯zukae¡¯s light dimmed more and more until it disappeared. As his eyesight slowly returned, halos hovered above these blurry orbs of reddish-orange and Elder Zamya slowly came to a halt.

    ¡°We¡¯re here at the Oxi room, Zayd,¡± The overseer of Panjkora announced. ¡°The doorknob is on your right.¡±

    The Tilithian Weapon Wielder turned to the fuzzy outline of the what looked like a doorknob and extended his hand out to meet it. He didn¡¯t grasp it at first, having expected the door handle to be only about a half a foot away and was instead greeted by the lone, emptiness of air, but once he reached out a little farther, he finally felt its smooth, round handle and gripped it tight.

    Even if it wasn¡¯t his fault and knew Elder Zamya wouldn¡¯t comment negatively on the little mishap, Zayd still scolded himself for making mistakes that could have him be seen as pitiful and weak if in the eye of the public. He could hear it now, how some of those new to Panjkora, visiting for the day to bear witness to tonight¡¯s Coronation Ceremony, would whisper in the audience about how they don¡¯t like seeing him with his cane as it made them feel uncomfortable or say that being disabled is the most horrible thing in the world. It wasn¡¯t. The most horrible thing that could happen to anyone is for them to die before their time¡­ like Mother. His heart felt sad and low again as he sighed.

    And so, Zaipha Al-Faris turned the knob and opened the door wide¨C

    Disgusting!!!

    An overpowering stench preoccupied his senses more so than his saddened heart. It was like a rotten lemon dune had been allowed to bathe in the humidity brought by the desert sun.   Despite trying his best to resist the putrid odor, Zayd still couldn¡¯t stop himself from coughing. His eyes started to burn and water.

    If only he was the Weapon Wielder of Bilithgorn and had the ability to aerize a ball of clean air around his face instead of being forced to put up with this smell. Even though he didn¡¯t have Earthquake within his possession just yet, Zayd knew that terraizing would be useless against things like intangible things like smell.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Elder Zamya¡¯s voice began to strain as she coughed along.

    ¡°I think¡­ I think a namkita forgot to dispose of the incense after they awoke the Oxi this morning.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll check who was on Oxi duty this morning,¡± Elder Zamya said with an irritated tone. ¡°The Oxi don¡¯t deserve this. Here, Zayd. Hold the door open while I purify the Oxi circle. The old, dirty smell will filter out now that they a way of escape.¡±

    Having shifted his weight to lean his back up against the door, Zayd saw the Overseer of Panjkora¡¯s blurry form shifted and felt his hold on her wrinkly arm fade as she made her way inside the Oxi Room.

    The sounds of cabinets opening and closing littered the air as Elder Zamya was no doubt looking for those greenish Faro¡¯zuk Rings. That quickly came to halt as she let out a ¡°Aha!¡± and shut the cabinet for the last time. Its chains then rattled as she slid them on to her fingers.

    The fragrance of freshly lit lemon dune incense soon erupted as the bright reflective quality of the metallic censer flew about, following whatever kind of hand movements Elder Zamya made.

    Despite not liking bright lights, Zayd liked the smell that came with it. Unlike turning sour under the day¡¯s heat, fresh lemon dune was quite rejuvenating to the senses. It had a calming lemony scent, like returning to a freshly cleaned house after a long day of playing outside. No wonder it was used to purify the Oxi Circle and rid the room of any previous visitor¡¯s call for advice. Surely, the Oxi liked the smell too.

    ¡°Better?¡± Elder Zamya asked.

    Zayd sniffed the air. ¡°The old smell is still lingering just a tad, but we mustn¡¯t worry about that. The fresh lemon dune is enough.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    Zayd stopped using his weight and allowed the door to close behind him as he made his way for the center of the room. The Oxi ¡°circle¡± was more like a clump of greyish brown that stood tall like a group of palm trees and gave no indication as to the gap that laid in between. This was always the tricky part. When Zayd leaned out his hand and felt the coarse slab of earth, he used his cane to tell where the gap from this slab to the next was.

    Chack ¨C Chack, the cane rang and Zayd followed. The gap wasn¡¯t as wide as usual, but he mustn¡¯t rush unless he wishes to rip and soil his ceremonial clothing.

    When he finally got into the middle of the circle without a tare and sat atop of the prayer cushion, Zayd folded up his cane and placed it on his lap. He then took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh lemon dune and allowed it to purify his spirit before he spoke a word, all the while staring up at the greyish brown earth slabs that surrounded him.

    Zayd was able to make out the color of the paint, but that¡¯s where it ended. The lines that were used to depict the Oxi on each slab were too jumbled up, disintegrating into fuzzy balls of color. When he was younger, he had a hard time being able to distinguish one Oxi from another due to being taught to follow the lines of paint with his fingers. It was a good technique to improve tactile skills, but it was only really useful for when someone who was sighted was around to place everything into context when he was done.

    As he grew older and wanted more and more independence, he taught himself to associate a color to an Oxi: red for Xani¡¯ik, the Oxi of Fire, Daytime and the Sun; black for Naar; brown for Satearr, the Oxi of Sand and Earth; green for Yanesh, the Oxi of Life; blue for Yutlol; white for Asaky; Violet for Oai, the Oxi of Love and Family; Lilac for Yama, the Oxi of Dreams and wife to Naar; Orange for Delyde, the Oxi of History and Legends; and Gold for Tak-tuk.

    Not only did he associate the colors, but Zayd could also feel the Oxi around him. As he sat inside the Oxi Circle, his heart thumped and thumped with the ferociousness of a Panjkorian sand-dusted palmpecker as it banged its strong bill into the side of a palm tree, eager to gorge itself on the defenseless ant larvae that lived inside. His stomach swirled about as though his intestines were magically forced into knots while the air became thick with pressure.

    Will they give me an answer to my prayer? The Tilithian Weapon Wielder thought. What will they advise? Will they pull and push the strings of the future and grant me the right words to apologize to Zanini with? Or will be disappointed in me for my un-Zaipha-like behavior?

    With his shaky and sweaty hands, all these thoughts rushed into his head seemingly all at once. They were honest worries, but he mustn¡¯t allow himself to become overwhelmed by a future that has yet to come.

    Inhaling another breathe, Zayd steeled his heart one again before he spoke. The Oxi don¡¯t like visitors who were easily jumpy.

 VII - Alvalar

    Alvalar¡¯s hammer struck repeatedly into the thick sheet of red-hot Safra metal like the melodic cries of a war drum. Clack-Clack! The hammer went, Clack-clack! Small sparks erupted from the metal¡¯s continuous abuse, but as soon as they came into being, they were quickly snuffed out by another blow. The metal emitted a greenish hue as it levitated a few inches above the sturdy anvil for a few moments of relief, only to be slammed down against the anvil again by the hammer¡¯s mighty force once again.

    Alvalar began to constantly turn his work-ring hand at an angle and the metal followed along, repeatedly angling itself by a quarter of a degree over the anvil while being struck by the hammer held in his left hand. Although it was trickier of a technique when using his own two hands instead of using the machines back at the store or having Smoke strike the metal for him as he turned it, the result was the same: it allowed him to taper the metal, giving it a much more symmetrical appearance.

    Safra metal was the most durable of native metals found in Navasar, possibly even the entire world, due to being a naturally-occurring alloy that existed inside the ore deposits found along the walls of the Fuego Mines, the very same mines that gave birth to the calor piedra, fuego piedra, and other fire-related magical stones deep within.

    Due to its place of origin, Safra metal was able to withstand high temperatures and had a higher forging heat than most other metals, making it take longer of a time to reach that red-hot color he needed before he was able to bend and shape it. Should the forging heat fall below a certain range, however, the metal would instantly become unworkable. In comparison to Ardore metal, which was easier to work with, especially for beginners given its low forging heat, Safra metal was far trickier, even for professionals, but it was the best if you wanted intricate designs and something that had a reduced chance of rusting even in the most moist of environments.

    Even if Maite wasn¡¯t going to choose this particular design when she comes by the shop tomorrow, she deserved the best quality possible. She was his customer after all.

    When Alvalar saw that the Safra metal was just how he wanted it, a small, thick piece that was symmetrical on both sides, he motioned it to stay on the anvil by lowering his hand. After sliding his trusty hammer and levitaci¨®n rings into their specific apron pockets, he grabbed the boisterously hot metal with his bare hands, using his fingers to quickly sculpt out a spoon¡­ well, it would be hot if he could actually feel the sensation. For as long as he could remember, heat never harmed him like it did everyone else. He never yelped whenever he placed his hands on the calor piedra pot as it was boiling away dinner or feverishly rubbed his skin whenever oil lightly splattered on him. If anything, it felt ticklish.

    It might¡¯ve been a strange ability, but it was certainly advantageous in his line of work. When he finished using his nails to carve spiral patterns along the spoon¡¯s handle, he allowed the still blistering red metallic spoon to soak inside a piedra de enfriamiento-encrusted bucket of cold water; clouds of steam bellowed forth as though it let out a haggard breath, gasping through the pain that arose from the sudden introduction of heat. The agua piedra that sat inside the cold water next to the freshly carved spoon let out a healthy dark-blue glow that shined through the clearness of the water and steam like the full moon on the darkest of nights, slowly returning the volume of water that had been suddenly evaporated.

    Metal were like people. If you overwork them, they crack, so one should allow them to relax before attempting to smooth them out with a high-grit sandpaper sponge. Plus, being in cold water in that stage allowed the Safra metal to strengthen and harden faster.

    Judging by the army of sweat that ran down his forehead and the dryness of his mouth, perhaps Alvalar should relax too. Grabbing the Idro beads from his breeches¡¯ pocket, he held them between his fingers, rubbing the green and orange beads, while he said a prayer to the hand-crafted statue of Idro and his trusty loyal caliber, Mateo, that sat above the forge, near the old photo of Tio Alejandro and his wife and Weapon Wielder team-mate, Omaya, thanking him that all that work was finally over and everything went along smoothly.

    Despite being an overall a crude attempt at a statue, Idro wouldn¡¯t punish him for it. Given that a Metalsmith apprentice¡¯s first ever assignment was to craft a statue of the Patron Ancestor of Artisans out of scraps of Ardore metal, it was common for beginners to end up with something not necessarily pleasing to the eye, and Alvalar was no different. He remembered how unsatisfied he was, calling the statue trash and wanting to throw it away, but Smoke encouraged him, claiming it was better than his when he first started apprenticing back on Capit¨¢n Alvarez¡¯s sugar plantation.

    As he looked at his ugly Idro statue once more, the birthday boy felt a smile begin to spread across his lips. It felt reassuring to have proof of far he has progressed under nearly six years of Smoke¡¯s tutelage. Papi really is the best teacher in the world, he thought.

    With his Idro and Ezra beads now back on his fat wrist, Alvalar finally wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and glanced over his shoulder. Huh? He nearly did a double take, but his eyes weren¡¯t misleading him. The shack was empty. Not only was Misu was still gone, but so was Papi. He surely would¡¯ve been here waiting for Alvalar to be done, ready to check the metal and give him critiques, so why did he leave? Had he gone out to go look for Misu? If that was the case, he should have Alvalar go with him.

    Horrible thoughts immediately raced through his mind as his imagination grew wilder.

    What if when Misu chased Captain Alvarez out of Esperanza, he had enough of it and stabbed her with a sword hidden inside that cane of his? What if Smoke went out to go look for Misu and ended up being killed too when he came upon Capitan Alvarez? Capitan Alvarez might have been an old man, but old doesn¡¯t always mean weak.

    With a worried heart, Alvalar quickly took off his apron, having placed it upon an empty chair, and was lowering his bundled-up sleeves as he drew near to the shack¡¯s doorway. He was ready to go out and look for them when the sound of familiar laughter greeted his ears followed by Papi¡¯s usual baritone voice: ¡°?No, Misu, No! Te lo dije eso para ¨¢lvalar, no para ti.¡±

    In response, Misu let out a low rumbling noise. Knowing her, she probably had her ears pinned back. Whatever she wanted, Alvalar knew that she was going to get it no matter what. She was truly a spoiled calibress and never took a ¡°no¡± for an answer.

    As though right on cue, Smoke shot back with a drawn out, ¡°?Yyyyaaaaaa!¡± The emphasis of his words meant that he was serious, telling Misu to knock it off with whatever she was doing. Seemingly Misu obeyed and Smoke let out a confident hmph.

    Smoke¡¯s scarred copper hand drew back the long green-and-orange curtain that hung from the shack¡¯s doorway and came inside, revealing that he was carrying a wooden crate filled with dark sea-blue agua piedra while Misu was riding atop his large, sturdy shoulders in her false form. Judging by her pinned back ears and the glare she shot him, she was still annoyed that she got scolded.

    Most importantly, however, the two of them were unharmed. Gracias, Alvalar thought, thanking Ezra by kissing her garnet beads. His heart settled down after all the craziness his mind had conjured up in their absence was proved to be just that. All in his mind. Nothing more, nothing less.

    ¡°Ah, Alvalar,¡± Smoke chirped, his golden eyes grew wide and his bushy eyebrows rose with surprise. ¡°You¡¯re done? O¡¯ thank goodness, my shoulders and arms have been killing me. Here, carry this and put them on the table.¡±

    ¡°Wait? What?¡± Despite his confusion, Smoke still passed the crate over to the birthday boy. Misu made a small leap onto her owner¡¯s shoulder and greeted him with a cute head-bump. Combined with the heavy box and Misu¡¯s weight as she sat on his shoulder, however, the weight of it all immediately began to be too much he could handle, almost like a good-sized boulder. ¡°Why can¡¯t you do it, Papi? You¡¯re strong and you just had to walk a few more steps.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true, but all you have to do is turn around,¡± he answered back with a smirk on his face while he moved his toned biceps in a circular motion, his wedding wristlet and Idro beads bounced off one another.

    Alvalar eyed his father with those brown eyes of his. With a dissatisfied sucking of his teeth, he muttered, ¡°touch¨¦.¡±

    Knowing he had won, Smoke smiled brightly. The beauty of his smile was radiant, nearly blinding. He had so much confidence that he did not care whatever face Alvalar made. Not only him, but Karollus and Tio Alejandro and Mama too. Everyone else had it except Alvalar.

    As he turned around and placed the box down on the table behind him, Alvalar remembered his mother¡¯s words: One day, you¡¯ll be as confident as a lion. But will that day ever really come? He thought to himself, gripping the sides of the wooden box.

    As though sensing her owner¡¯s feelings, Misu licked his cheek with her rough sandpaper tongue then let out a soft purr as she rubbed her cheek against his. Alvalar felt a slow yet gentle smile form over his lips. He gave his calibress a kiss on the forehead and a quick scratch behind the ear. What would I do without you, Misu?

    Feeling better, Alvalar turned back to his father who was making his way around the table. ¡°So, what¡¯s all this agua piedra for?¡±

    ¡°Most of ¡®em are for the store,¡± he replied while he pulled out the chair. After sitting on the wooden chair, Smoke began to gesture at the dark, sea-blue stones. Collectively, their glow was more powerful than the one that sat in the bucket that it was as though they were freshly mined last week. ¡°The agua piedra for the quenching buckets are running low in power and taking a longer time to restore the amount of water inside, so we have to increase our supply of strong, readily available stones. The water itself will make the stones last longer since it resembles their environment inside the mines, but if we have nothing but dried-up stones then we can¡¯t do our work effectively.¡±

    Alvalar lifted his fat body up on the table and sat on it since there was no chair available. Smoke shot him a slight glare, but he was just going to have to deal with it. The birthday boy¡¯s body ached and he was going to relax. ¡°So, one of my duties tomorrow morning will be to collect all the dried-up stones and place them in the collection box outside?¡±

    ¡°If you come in extra early tomorrow, yes. If you sleep in, don¡¯t worry about it. I made a deal with the Head Miner from Sak to pick them up tomorrow. They¡¯ll return them to the Agua Mines twenty miles south of here to replenish their water-blessing powers.¡± Smoke picked up a agua piedra from within the box and offered it to his apprentice. ¡°Here.¡±

    Hesitantly, Alvalar took the stone but his brows furrowed slightly with confusion as he looked back at Smoke. ¡°But I though you said these are for the store. Why are you reducing the amount of supplies? You¡¯ll end up wasting money faster if you use up them too quickly.¡±

    A grin from ear to ear appeared on Smoke¡¯s brown face. ¡°The student inches ever closer to becoming a master,¡± he said, his voice beaming with pride. ¡°You have a good eye, hijo. It¡¯s true what you said. I am reducing the amount of supplies going into the store, but it¡¯s not by a considerable amount.  Most of the stones are for the store, but some are for us. Now, hurry up and drink. You look like you need it with all that sweat making some of your curls damp and cling to your skin as it rolls down your face. No doubt your tongue is as dried up as the Tilithian desert.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t know the half of it,¡± Alvalar replied with a quick chuckle. He placed a peck on the stone¡¯s surface and it let out a magnificent blue glow that lit up the shack. Alvalar quickly swung his head back and caught the water that gushed forth. Not only was the water that came forth cold and refreshing, but so was the stone¡¯s exterior. As he drank and drank, he could feel the water swash back and forth from within the agua piedra but it never became empty. Whatever was drank was restored in nearly an instant.

    As though asking for some, Misu let out a wheek.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Misu,¡± Alvalar said, wiping away his mouth. ¡°I didn¡¯t forget about you, mi hija. Here.¡± Using his right hand as a cup, the water from the agua piedra became trapped in the small scrunched-up depression of his palm.

    Misu jumped from her sit on her owner¡¯s shoulder and landed on the table. As though she was a Se?ora at a party with other nobles, she let out another wheek and stomped a paw on the surface of the table. Alvalar brought his water-filled hand over just as she commanded and she drank like there was no tomorrow. She had drunk water from her bowl back at the house, but who knew she would get so thirsty so fast. Poor thing, Alvalar thought as he watched his calibress quenching her seemingly insatiable thirst.

    After seemingly the tenth refill, Misu had her fill and licked the agua piedra. The glow that illuminated the shack had diminished into nothingness and the water inside no longer wished to flow outward.

    With a wet palm, Alvalar gave his caliber a cool pat and a nice scratch under the chin. She shook her body in delight and fluffed out her chocolate fur as she slowly, one lick after another, gave it thorough washing.

    ¡°Better?¡± Smoke asked.

    Alvalar nodded and gave his father a smile. ¡°It was much needed. Thanks, Papi.¡±

    Smoke smiled back with a fond look in his golden eyes. ¡°De nada, hijo. I have something else you might like. Consider it a small birthday gift since you¡¯ve been working so hard this past year.¡± He dug inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small bag of cookies that had a little message attached to it. ¡°I bought it from the stand that Karollus is manning. Thanks to Misu bothering him and trying to curry favor, I was able to skip all the way to the front of the line and buy it before she got her paws on them.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s what you two were fighting about?¡± glowed Alvalar as he glared at Misu.

    As though cursing Smoke out, Misu let out a loud hiss. How dare you tell him, she seemed to say. Her body language changed from being dignified and elegant to being ready to size-shift and fight, with her ears pinned back and her fur fluffed up like each strand were a needle.

    ¡°?Que?¡± Smoke answered back, unafraid of the calibress¡¯ sudden change in attitude. Smoke¡¯s own Caliber, Sombra, had a feisty personality and the two would have long arguments that only either of them understood or cared to continue. It is a shame he passed away two years ago. He was a good caliber, Alvalar recalled fondly, remembering his pillow-y black fur and big brown eyes. He was a good teacher and father to Misu and would look after her when she was a cub, making sure she wasn¡¯t getting into trouble. ¡°Do you honestly think I wasn¡¯t going to tell him?¡± After placing the bag of cookies on the table, Smoke crossed his arms. ¡°That it¡¯ll be a secret just between us? JAJA! You¡¯ve got another thing coming, girl.¡±

    Smoke and Misu continued to go back and forth in their argument while Alvalar picked up the bag of cookies. Taking in the sight of their crispy, sugary form caused the birthday boy¡¯s stomach to begin to groan and ache anxiously. Should I have some? He thought. I am feeling hungry, but¡­ No. I shouldn¡¯t. I already ate a lot of things that I shouldn¡¯t have today and what was the outcome? Purging my stomach. I did it so many times today that I lost count. If I ate these cookies too, I¡¯ll become even more fat than I already am!

    The thought of being even fatter than he was now only caused the anxiety in his stomach to grow even more. It was like a battlefield as his intestines seemed to get tangled in one another. Everything about him felt like it was bigger, heavier, more apparent. His stomach, his hands, his fingers, his face, his thighs, his toes¡­ His heart began to beat rapidly and his palms grew sweaty¨C

    Alvalar¡¯s eyes then fell on the tag that was attached to the bag. Upon its paper surface was a simple and short message written in an all-to-familiar handwriting: K¨¹o Kaeli, Al.

    Happy Birthday, Al, the Athaese message automatically translated itself in his head after many years of either hearing it at the Academy or saying it himself to others. Feeling his heart become all warm and fuzzy, Alvalar couldn¡¯t resist a smile.

    His stomach might¡¯ve been aching and in pain, but his heart was aflutter with different feelings than before. It was an odd combination ¨C anxious all around but the center. Ripping the message from the bag, he brought it close to his chest as he couldn¡¯t help but reminisce of his first date with Karollus back when he was thirteen.

    It was a nice and busy Summer day inside Ezeki Rudas¡¯ bakery, but the entire time Alvalar couldn¡¯t shake off feelings of nervousness and bouts of sweat that rolled down his back, worried that it obvious through his well-put together clothes. He wanted everything to go well since he was the one that confessed his feelings first, but his stomach ached and ached so much that he was getting the feeling that his breakfast of toastado con mantequilla wanted to climb from the pits of his stomach and splatter onto the floor. Not to mention that his stuttering got the better of him, making it difficult to utter a single word! Whenever Karollus or Mr. Rudas would talk to him, he could only nod or shake his head in response. It got to be so frustrating that Alvalar eventually threw all his worries to the wind and held Karollus¡¯ hand while the two sat down at the dinner table inside the house-portion of the store, enjoying their culinary treats side-by-side one another.

    Karollus smiled bashfully and slowly interlocked his fingers around Alvalar¡¯s, one finger at a time. Despite how slow the baker¡¯s son was in reciprocating, Alvalar recalled the feeling of his heart beating faster and faster that it was like it was going to burst. ¡°Sorry, I¡­¡± Karollus paused for a moment after he finished intertwining their fingers together and looked down at his plate of treats in deep thought. His bushy brows tightened with worry as though he was wondering what to say or do next. Then, glancing over with those teal eyes of his, he asked, ¡°Does your stomach hurt too?¡± Alvalar remembered saying, ¡°A-a-and you have the urge to vomit?¡± and Karollus¡¯ subsequent snake-like laughter.

    Alvalar¡¯s stomach didn¡¯t stop hurting. Thinking about Karollus didn¡¯t stop the pain, but it did help remind him of what¡¯s important and who he missed most of all. With tears in his eyes, he gently kissed the little note and placed it in his pocket for safe keeping.

    By the time his stomach calmed itself and his worry over his body image subside (for now), Smoke and Misu finished their argument. Alvalar offered the treats to Smoke all the while since he helped in smoothing out the third spoon prototype. When the duo began decorating the spoons with beads or jewel shards for tomorrow¡¯s presentation with the customer, Smoke was down to two cookies.

    Thinking that this was the perfect time to snatch one, Misu slyly placed her paw inside the bag, getting closer and closer to the cook-

    ¡°Misu!¡± Alvalar yelled, slamming his hand upon the table.

    The calibress leaped into the air and size-shifted out of fear. When she planted her paws back on the grass, both Alvalar and Smoke guffawed at how Misu terrified looked in her true form. She was so shocked that she was panting anxiously and her pupils grew to the size of a plum ¨C how unlike the terrifying beast that tried to attack Hu¨¯-H¨¨ earlier.

    ¡°Aw,¡± Karollus¡¯ voice cooed with pity. ¡°Don¡¯t laugh at her, you two. She¡¯s scared.¡±

    Alvalar looked up from his work and saw that it was indeed Karollus. Besides the hair band that held his dreads back, he was still clothed in the same clothing as before as he walked into the shack and gave Misu a head pat.

    ¡°Oh, come on, Karo. You should¡¯ve seen her,¡± Alvalar replied. ¡°She was trying to get another cookie and when she got caught in the act, she literally leaped in the air like the grass was molten lava and size-shifted.¡±

    Karollus did begin to laugh, but he ended up holding it back. It sounded like a snake choking for a quick second. ¡°Still, she¡¯s scared,¡± his voice remained stern. He crouched down and cupped Misu¡¯s chocolate-furred cheeks, shaking the caliber¡¯s mighty skull from side to side. ¡°Is that right, Misu?¡± Karollus¡¯ ebony face followed along while his voice became somewhat baby-like. ¡°Is that right?¡±

    Trying to play up the victim card like Alvalar knew she would, Misu nodded and replied with a soft, trembly wheek. To add further credibility, she laid her head against his shoulder and whimpered, nuzzling his dreads away from her face.

    Alvalar rolled his eyes and shook his head in disapproval. ¡°You¡¯re wrapped around her finger,¡± he told while decorating the third spoon with small golden shards. The natural red pigment from the safra metal colored the spoon and complimented the gold nicely, giving it an expensive feel.

    ¡°I know,¡± the baker¡¯s son admitted with almost a nonchalant tone as he continued to comfort the calibress with pats. ¡°But what can I say? Kesh, Misu, Sombra¡­ You know they¡¯re my weakness. They¡¯re really cool animals.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯cha doing here, Karollus?¡± Smoke asked in a long drawn out yawn. He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms and legs.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°El¨¦ said I can take a break from watching over the stalls. Now he and El¨¢ are manning the stalls.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let Misu hear you say that,¡± Smoke warned. ¡°Wherever Ezeki goes, Kesh follows.¡±

    Understood what was being said, Misu raised her head from Karollus¡¯s shoulder, her ears perked and eyes staring straight at the door. She looked ready to leave.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think of it, Misu,¡± Alvalar roared. ¡°You¡¯ll see your mam¨¢ later. You¡¯re busy.¡±

    Misu turned to her owner and let a grunt from deep within her throat. She walked away from Karollus¡¯ comforting arms and did a quick walkthrough of the store, looking for any customers. She couldn¡¯t find any because there technically wasn¡¯t any. Knowing this, she made her way back to owner and sat at his feet, letting out another grunt.

    Alvalar let out an exasperated sigh and placed his decorated spoon on the table behind him before firmly crossing his arms in defiance. ¡°I don¡¯t care if there are any customers. You¡¯re going to stay here and that¡¯s final. I don¡¯t want you to get lost. What if you get lost and you get trapped inside the Zahrah Jungle at night, huh? Knowing you, you¡¯ll irritate the Zahrah and they¡¯ll suck out your life essence. I¡¯m trying to protect you. Think with your head and not your gut.¡±

    ¡°You want the cookies, right, mi ni?ita?¡± Karollus¡¯ voice entered the conversation. Misu followed him with her eyes, her tail wagging as he walked to where Alvalar stood, standing beside him before crouching down in front of the calibress. ¡°I don¡¯t have any cookies on me, per say, but if you listen to pap¨¢ and behave, you¡¯ll have all the cookies and treats you could ever want. Maybe even a little piece of birthday cake for being extra, extra good. Isn¡¯t that right, Alvalar?¡± Karollus glanced over at the Metalsmith apprentice with eyes that seemed to plead of cooperation.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Alvalar nodded, crouching down slightly and began to give his calibress a scratch underneath that furry chin of hers. ¡°I promise, Misu. After the whole ceremony of announcing the next Navasarian Weapon Wielder is over, you¡¯ll get some cookies. When it¡¯s time to cut the cake, you¡¯ll get a piece too. Maybe even two pieces. What do you say?¡±

    With a pip in her step, Misu excitedly abandoned the two and laid her body on a patch of grass nearby as she waited patiently. She was silent as she stared at the sun that littered through the curtain, begging for the sky to turn to dusk so the ceremony announcements can begin.

    Smoke, Karollus and Alvalar all cracked up as they watched. There was going to be nothing that stood between Misu and that cake. Perhaps Misu¡¯s sweet tooth could finally be used against her.

    ¡°Thanks, Karo,¡± Alvalar said with a smile as the two of them stood up from their crouched down positions.

    ¡°No problem, Al,¡± Karollus smiled back. ¡°Misu can quite the handful. I love her just as much as you do, but if she gobbles up all of our products, we¡¯ll be in the red. No business wants to be in the red especially on a day that only comes once in a lifetime. Especially in a business ran by my el¨¦.¡±

    Alvalar¡¯s smile wavered slightly into that of nervousness his former-lover¡¯s presence. Karollus was free from his duty watching over his parents¡¯ stand, so could this mean that he was going to come over tonight? If so, then they could talk about everything¡­ Alvalar just had to ask. He couldn¡¯t merely keep these thoughts inside his head in the phase of wondering. And so, with a slight elbow to Karollus¡¯ arm, he asked, ¡°s-s-so, um, you¡¯re coming to the p-party to the tonight, right?¡±

    With a sly grin that went from ear-to-ear, the baker¡¯s son leaned back against the table and crossed his strong arms. ¡°Boy, you sure want me to come to this party, huh?¡± he said as though he was eager to hear a response.

    Despite feeling hot air leak from the pores on his cheeks, Alvalar still felt like he was on fire. Flushed as brightly as can be, the corners of his mouth quirked upward awkwardly. ¡°O-o-of course I want you to. If I didn¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t be p-pestering y-you about it.¡±

    His grin was still affixed on his face ¨C a feature he had a majority of the time ¨C but his eyes and voice seemed to soften as he appreciated the honesty. ¡°I know, Al. I know.¡± He let out a relaxed sigh. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not sure since the whole thing of my break is still in the air. El¨¦ said I can take a break but he didn¡¯t mention for how long or if he wanted me to back to the store and help out Kyrah and Keian afterwards. That being said, I hope I¡¯m able to attend. I¡¯m sure your birthday party will be lovely and admittedly a little crazy like it is every year ¨C my type of party.¡±

    Although his answer was the same as before ¨C unsure ¨C the little compliment at the end made Alvalar felt like he was on cloud-nine with bliss. Karollus sure knew how to make a guy feel special.

    ¡°Uh,¡± Smoke interrupted. ¡°Sorry to interrupt you two love-birds, but Karollus, want water?¡± He gestured with a fresh agua piedra in hand.

    Karollus raised an eyebrow as he stared at the water stone with a look of skepticism. ¡°How many silver-speckled calibers does it cost?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s free,¡± he replied with a kind tone to his voice as he continued to gesture the stone. ¡°I got a few extra ones just in case Al or I got thirsty, but since you¡¯re here, I thought you might want some too since you stayed out in the sun for a while. Hurry up. My generosity is waning. You want one or not?¡±

    The baker¡¯s son turned to Alvalar for confirmation, trusting him more he did Smoke ¨C the man who was known throughout the palenque for being the type to not give out free things on a whim. If he did decide to be generous, however, you would have to either buy something first or make him pity you by telling him your life¡¯s story. But since he wasn¡¯t doing any business with customers right now, perhaps Smoke just wanted to be hospitable to their only visitor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Karo,¡± Alvalar averred. ¡°It¡¯s actually free. Not the buy-something-first type of free that he usually does.¡±

    Taking his former-lover¡¯s word as gospel, Karollus accepted the agua piedra. ¡°Thanks.¡± The sapphire light that radiated from the stone engulfed his dark skin and his clothes in its glow, making soft sloshing noises of the water inside move from side to side as he rubbed the agua piedra against his throat and arms, using its refreshing touch to cool himself done. It was a much more effective way than wearing those piedra de enfriamiento-encrusted sandals he had on that solely cooled his feet and legs. He wiped off the sweat that gathered on the stone and kissed it. Throwing his head back, he drank the water that spewed from the top of the stone with much gusto.

    ¡°So, how your archery training going?¡± Alvalar asked curiously.

    The baker¡¯s son response was delayed, but when he finally finished rejuvenating himself and stopped the water from escaping the stone, he didn¡¯t look necessarily thrilled. Looking at the grass that littered the earth below in patches that were either a bright green and still tall or wilted and turned brown by the sun¡¯s harsh gaze, Karollus glowered and his plump lips were tightly pressed together. He stared deeply at his golden Ul¡¯dalir beads that were wrapped around his right wrist in silence as though he was praying to the Patron Ancestor of Archers and Hunters himself. Then, as though he remembered that he didn¡¯t give an answer, he finally replied. ¡°Same old, same old.¡± A shallow but depressing sigh escaped from his noise as he set the water stone down on the table. ¡°Same old, same old.¡±

    A rueful smile settled on the Alvalar¡¯s tawny face, feeling how his lips tightened with regret. The twins Keian and Kyrah were considered prodigies in the art of archery, but no matter how much older Karollus was or how much more experience he had, he could never reach their innate talent. He often spoke of a dream of his that meant protecting the palenque with the infamous Dragon Bow of his father¡¯s (albeit, estranged) Noble House, just like his parents did in their youth when slave-catchers sent by the Rudas Clan would threaten the town¡¯s existence with their mission to capture its inhabitants. His voice would quicken with excitement as he spoke while his eyes sparkled with admiration, but it seemed that as the twins grew older and older, they¡¯re more worthy of that position than him.

    As he continued to watch, Alvalar felt his heart begin to twist in pain as he slowly saw more of himself reflected in Karollus with each passing moment. It¡¯s a shame that a man as confident as him is in this kind of a rut so early in his life. It didn¡¯t suite him at all. Alvalar leaned out his hand and placed it on his former-lover¡¯s broad shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short, Karo,¡± he told with a gentle smile and encouraging tone.

    With a roll of his eyes, Karollus folded his arms tightly across his chest. ¡°Oh, save me the inspirational speech, Al,¡± he murmured angrily underneath his breathe.

    Not liking his hard-boiled attitude, Alvalar glared and recoiled his hand, forming into a clenched-up fist. It didn¡¯t take long for steam to raise from the palms of his hands, moving about tumultuously through the summer-like air. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡±

    As though returning the gesture, Karollus glared right back. ¡°I should be asking you the same thing. You should be the one heeding your own damn advice. Not me!¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t start, Karollus!¡± The birthday boy hissed. ¡°I¡¯m trying to help.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think I know that?¡± The baker¡¯s son growled back.

    ¡°Then why the attitude, huh?¡± Alvalar angrily put his hands on his hips as if to stand his ground. ¡°If you know that, then why are you suddenly angry?¡±

    ¡°Because you try to help me as though you don¡¯t have any issues, like your mister perfect!¡± Karollus yelled and banged a fist on the table. Then, he began moving his fingers between the two of them in an angry and accusatory fashion. ¡°You should heed your own words and work on your own problems before helping others.¡±

    Shaking his head, Alvalar let out a frustrated sigh and removed a hand from his hips, allowing him to rub his temples before pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. This is just like the fights we had when we were making the cutlery for Smoke¡¯s wedding, he thought. It was small but it had a huge impact, leaving both of us angry and unable to speak to one another for a fortnight. Is history going to repeat itself again? Will we get back together? Or will we remain broke up forever? His heart suddenly ached with anxiety at that possible realization, his stomach swirled about like a giant whirlpool. No, I can¡¯t let that happen! Maybe if we have time to cool off¨C

    A loud clap cut through the heated atmosphere like a knife to a tender cut of pork. Alvalar uncovered his face and raised his head. Smoke had an unamused look on his face, clapping a hand against the table. His golden eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tight while he looked between the two young men like he was an annoyed Academy professor teaching a class of unruly children. Alvalar caught Karollus¡¯ gaze as the two looked on anxiously.

    ¡°Finally,¡± Smoke let out a tranquil sigh. ¡°Some peace and quiet from all the yelling and fighting.¡± Just when Alvalar thought his father was all calm, his expression hardened once more. ¡°You two are adults, are you not?¡± he barked. ¡°If so, then learn to stop yelling like little sniveling children. If you wish to continue your petty argument, do so outside and far away from my shack.¡± Suddenly, as though an idea popped into his head, his eyes widened with a look of brilliance. ¡°Or better yet, enjoy a bit of manual labor as the two of you clean the machines and tools.¡±

    ¡°?Qu¨¦?¡± Alvalar said, his anger and anxiety had waned as a confused look washed over his naturally brown face. ¡°Really, Papi? ?Tu ta seguro?¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Smoke turned his head and crossed his large arms. ¡°You think I¡¯m joking, ¨¢lvalar?¡±

    ¡°Disculpame pero¡­ is fighting outside still an option?¡± Karollus asked, anxiously chuckling. It was clear by the lowering of his brows and his nervous smile that he wanted to get out of situation as fast as possible.

    Agreeing with his former-lover¡¯s endeavor, Alvalar raised his hand half-way in the air. ¡°I second that. Better that than clean underneath the hearth. It probably has kakory webs and spiders down there!¡±

    Karollus let out a chortle that sounded genuine. He shot a wink as though thanking him for following along. It¡¯ll be better if the two of them get out of this rather than just one.

    Unfortunately, Smoke didn¡¯t seem to think so. ¡°Sorry. My old suggestion is now invalid. Now you have only one option: clean!¡±

    ¡°Who said so?¡± Both of the young men answered back in such unison that it was like the two had planned it. ¡°Plus, we stopped arguing,¡± Alvalar noted and Karollus nodded in full agreement.

    ¡°No me importa,¡± the Master Metalsmith replied. He didn¡¯t look like he was in the mood to discuss further. ¡°Get to it to you two. I want everything spotless by the time the ceremony starts.¡±

    Karollus glanced up at the shack¡¯s easily put-together wooden ceiling, probably cursing at himself for getting trapped into this situation. Alvalar, with slight hesitance, gripped his former-lover¡¯s arm. He didn¡¯t want to have another argument break out and ruin his chance of getting back together for good, but once the baker¡¯s son gave his full attention, he realized that he was tired rather than irritated.

    Wanting to give him a boost of energy, the Metalsmith apprentice shot him a smile.

    Like the old poem says, smiles truly are contagious. Karollus returned the slight quirk of his lips and chuckled.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Alvalar encouraged, nudging the baker¡¯s son¡¯s side with his elbow. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the kakory webs and you collect the ashes from inside the hearth. We wouldn¡¯t want the little spiders that call the abandoned kakory webs their home to be crawling around in that beautiful beard of yours. Just be careful that none of those ashes get in my hair.¡±

    Karollus¡¯ chuckle evolved into his usual snake-like laughter. ¡°Deal!¡±

    It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed, but by the time the pair were finished with the dusting of the webs, the collecting of ash from inside the hearth and fresh firewood collected from inside the jungle, and wiping down every single surface and tools with a damp cloth, the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. The sky¡¯s shades of pink and purple began to be enveloped by the overpowering force of night. Even Misu had fallen into a deep slumber instead of lying awake like she had planned.

    Alvalar glared over at his calibress with jealousy. How nice it must be to be caliber, he lamented.

    While Alvalar had sprawled his body out on the grass in an attempt to relax for a moment, Smoke was organizing the orders of brand-new clients from the Yalaz mountain village of Serena at the table and Karollus sat less than a foot away from Alvalar¡¯s arm, enjoying his share of the flan mam¨¢ had brought over for the three of them. By his rapturous devouring of the little desert, it was clear that the baker¡¯s son had preferred Navasarian treats over the K¨¦k¨¦ confectionary he had grew up with. Navasarian deserts tend to be filled with sugar while traditional K¨¦k¨¦ sweets pride itself on subtle flavors and seasonal ingredients that complement one another.

    Oh, what I would give to eat a little bukayo tart, the birthday boy thought as he imagined gorging himself on the sweet coconut meat tarts that made Ezeki¡¯s bakery so famous during the winter season. His stomach groaned loudly, as though pleading for food. Now in a fit of hunger, Alvalar regretted giving away his flan to Karollus during a weight-anxious state.

    The sounds of trumpets and drums playing echoed in the distance, feverish with excitement. It sounded just like when Alvalar entered the festival grounds hours ago, but their music was much more intense. More ceremonial and regal-like.

    ¡°Come on, boys,¡± Smoke called out, his voice nearly canceling out the music. ¡°The coronation ceremony is about to begin.¡±

    With aching thighs, Alvalar slowly rose to his feet and stretched out the muscles in his back. He watched as Karollus gulped down the last of the flan and hurried to his feet despite still having a few pieces of flan still on his lips. With a slight chortle, Alvalar motioned toward his lips and said, ¡°Karo, flan. Flan.¡±

    Karollus¡¯ lips scrunched up embarrassingly. His head hanged low as he hid his mouth behind his hand, probably licking up the last of the flan. When he drew his hand back, his face was clean of any sticky eggy custard. ¡°Thanks,¡± he murmured softly.

    Now on to Misu. After that moaning incident that nearly woke up the entire palenque a few years back, Alvalar couldn¡¯t just leave without telling his caliber where he was going. When he turned his gaze to his calibress, he noticed how her large ears were twitching and moving and her eyes slowly opened as though she was awoken. Still in a mild daze, her mouth was left agape and quickly shut after she let out a loud yawn. As though she suddenly sensed something, her eyes were now wide away as she sniffed the air and began to growl.

    As though they were playing tricks on the living creature, the zahrah showed themselves, their wispy apparitions drifted through the open air like leaves being pulled along by the wind. First it was three of them, pulling on Misu¡¯s ears, then it was five, ten, twenty, thirty of them just going about their business as they phased through machinery and the wooden foundations of the shack.

    Like the old Navasarian bedtime stories mam¨¢ used to tell, the zahrah can be tricksters that enjoy playing with the living, often misplacing things in the middle of the night as they rested during their nocturnal adventure. Though should you disrespect them, they would have no issue dining on your life force all in one giant swarm, leaving your corpse a dry husk for people to find when dawn approaches.

    Thankfully, the zahrah was just having fun with Misu. But the calibress didn¡¯t seem to think of it that way. She snarled, readying herself to sink her teeth into their invisible bodi-

    Alvalar quickly shushed his caliber.

    Taken aback, the chocolate calibress locked eyes with her owner. She let out a grunt that reverberated slightly through the air. What is it? she seemed to ask.

    The Metalsmith apprentice sighed and walked over to his companion, crouching down to her eyelevel. ¡°Relax,¡± he replied. As he maintained his balance, he saw the zahrah phase through Misu¡¯s head and did the same thing with his knee. It¡¯s a blessing that you just feel a chill when these potentially malevolent spirits go through you and nothing more. ¡°I¡¯ve told you time and time again to just tolerate the zahrah. I know they might be annoying, but its for your own safety. Just go back to sleep, okay? You¡¯ll forget about that they¡¯re even there, okay? We¡¯ll be back soon.¡±

    Misu¡¯s green eyes glanced up at the ceiling as though in thought. Instead of being sassy and questioning his authority like she usually does, she laid her giant head down on the patch of dead grass and closed her eyes.

    ¡°A¡¯hahi,¡± Karollus praised softly in Athaese, calling the calibress a good girl as he ran his hand gently through her chocolate fur. ¡°A¡¯hahi, Misu.¡±

    Alvalar glanced over and caught the baker¡¯s son standing right beside him, just like he was with his lower body all crouched down, with a tender smile gracing his lips as he gazed at Misu. The two were like fathers that were bidding their daughter a good night¡­ Exhaling a calming sigh, Alvalar couldn¡¯t help but find himself smiling at the thought of their potential future together.

    Karollus turned his gaze from Misu to the birthday boy that sat beside him. ¡°Come on, Al.¡±

    Feeling his heart with filled with glee, Alvalar did not hesitate to agree and straightened his legs. ¡°Let¡¯s!¡±

    Crossing through the curtain that Smoke drew back, the outside world was teeming with life once the sun had begun to go down. Music became louder and louder as it collided with the smells of food riding along with wind and the Zahrah were beginning to awake from their diurnal slumber and continue their journey of finding their individual trees as they phased through the crowds of people. Some children from Keian and Kyrah¡¯s class at the Academy were screaming and laughing as they ran about through the hoard of people, having fun with their friends in games of tag. Not pushing past the tree line as is part of Esperanza¡¯s Town Codes, the musicians stood atop their levitated platforms, their tunes were much more sophisticated and refined than Alvalar remembered from earlier on in the day. Their instruments were illuminated by the bright glow of the luz piedra that were inside the glass lanterns that hovered above the ground, providing light for all.

    As Alvalar followed his father and Karollus through the crowd, getting closer and closer to the levitation platforms that held the Nuns and Abbots from Aditi Abbey ¨C the same abbey that situates itself in the infamous Volcano Garden that not only provides the central Navasarian region of Aditi with hot-springs and fertile soil, but also killed millions the last time the volcanoes erupted three thousand years ago ¨C he noticed the son of Palenque Chief Juvenal and ¨®roya Leona, Aureliano Hernandez Alfonso, amongst the crowd. Dressed in the attire befitting of high-class parents, such as a pair of maroon trousers, an orange-coral silk shirt that was underneath a buttoned-up reddish-brown vest, and black boots, Aureliano had choppy black hair, dark golden-brown skin and ruby-red eyes that reflected his father¡¯s likeness.

    Due to Aureliano being Karollus¡¯ childhood friend since the two were in diapers, Alvalar knew him since he was in their small circle of friends back at the Academy. He was a nice and funny guy deep down, but was somewhat of a hard-ass most of the time, especially when it came to his classwork and his ¨®ro duties. He was also quick to outbursts as well, getting impatient when he would tutor Alvalar and would just end up doing Alvalar¡¯s homework for him rather than actually teach him anything.

    Despite his flaws, however, the palenqueros still regard Aureliano as ¡°Esperanza¡¯s golden boy¡± due to the negotiation and leadership skills he displayed when accompanying his Father to the tense political and economic discourse with the surrounding villages and towns three years ago. Alvalar even heard that he was recently betrothed to Ambrosia Morales Cordero, the first-born daughter of Serena¡¯s village chief, as a result of Esperanza¡¯s growing partnership with Serena.

    If anyone¡¯s the next Navasarian Weapon Wielder, it¡¯s Aureliano. Not only was today his eighteenth birthday as well, but he embodied the traits of T¨ªo Alejandro perfectly, even down to his serious attitude.

    After walking through the crowd, Smoke signaled Alvalar and Karollus to stay where they stood. This was good enough. It had a nice view of the Abbots and Nuns in their red and golden robes with Inferno in their possession and secured in a sacred white cloth.

    The music had become almost religious-like in its melody, but sharply had come to a halt by the sudden raise of the Head Abbot¡¯s hand. No one dared to speak as they waited for the Head Abbot and Nun¡¯s announcement. Even those who cluttered around the stalls and usually gave a dirty look to the Weapon Wielders whenever they were brought up in conversation were silent as though they were equally curious as to which of today¡¯s birthday kids were to be chosen.

    ¡°May all of the previous Navasarian Weapon Wielders watch over this coronation and grant all of us with their divine protection,¡± the Head Abbot spoke, his voice was difficult to hear and comprehend due to its hoarseness. ¡°For four thousand years, the Weapon Wielders of our Kingdom have come and gone. Some are the embodiment of humanities best while others are some of humanities worst...¡±

    Suddenly, Alvalar felt something gently tickle his hand. He looked down and discovered that Karollus was the culprit, his finger lightly brushing against the surface of Alvalar¡¯s brown skin just enough to get his attention. The baker¡¯s son opened his mouth, but then closed it again as he anxiously brushed his dreads back with his fingers.

    ¡°Karo?¡± Alvalar asked and cocked his head in confusion, his voice was in a low whisper.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Al,¡± he said with an equally low register. ¡°For the argument earlier, I mean. I¡­ I was acting stupid and petty.¡±

    ¡°¡­. Unfortunately, Alejandro the Navi was killed before his time,¡± the Head Nun continued, her voice was a bit more youthful and not as hoarse as her partner. ¡°He was a brave man that not only right the wrong of his predecessors, but also carved out a new future that allowed everyone to truly live in freedom¡­¡±

    Alvalar¡¯s confusion had softened and a smile washed over his face. Carefully, he interlocked his index finger around Karollus¡¯ like their fingers were giving each other a hug. ¡°I¡­ I was acting stupid too and being a bit testy. Y-y-you were right about some of the things you said, so don¡¯t worry. Both of us messed u-up.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, his successor can not only continue his legacy, but also create their own that is as bright as the sun. And so, it is a pleasure for us to announce the seventy-fifth Weapon Wielder¡­¡±

    ¡°So, you forgive me?¡± Karollus asked, almost suprised.

    ¡°If only you forgive me,¡± Alvalar chuckled as he leaned his head against Karollus¡¯ shoulder.

    ¡°¡­ ¨¢lvalar Ignacio Leal!¡± the two religious leaders had called out together in unison.

    Alvalar felt all the warmth and love in his heart drain from his body. His head darted toward the Head Abbot and Nun, his heart trembling in fear while their beady little brown eyes were looking through the crowd, trying to look for him.

    Me? He thought. I¡¯m the Weapon Wielder of Navasar¡­? No way. It can¡¯t be! I-I¡¯m nothing like T¨ªo! Nothing!

    His ears were lying to him. This is a sick and disrespectful joke. This just had to be¡­

    Right?

    Right?!

 VIII - Alvalar

    ¡°Alvalar?¡± a voice murmured nearby. Another voice asked, ¡°You mean el hijo de M¨¦rida?¡±

    ¡°Al?¡± Karollus asked with a curious tone as though he was wondering why the birthday boy wasn¡¯t going up to receive Inferno. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    This has to be a mistake, Alvalar thought, his hold on Karollus¡¯ finger waned. He slowly began taking steps back, one foot after another while a cold chill enveloped his being for a brief moment as a zahrah phased through him. Perhaps it¡¯s just a giant misunderstanding. I-it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s a dream! That¡¯s it! This is all a dream!

    Alvalar waited for the dream to come to an end, but the murmurs in the crowd only grew as he refused to climb onto the platform and accept the legendary sword.

    A balled-up copper fist came into view from the overhead of the crowd folk and suddenly threw something into the sky. Was that simply confetti? Or was it something more nefarious like blasting sand? Alvalar squinted his eyes as he tried to deduce what it was by how the light from luz piedra radiated off the strange substance¡ª

    BBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!

    The blast was deafening and left Alvalar¡¯s ears ringing. Everything was muffled for a few minutes, but as soon as he regained his hearing, it sounded like it was hell on earth. Cries and screams of people that were pushed back by the explosion echoed through the air as the stench of burning skin was carried by the wind, making their pain ten-times worse by the air¡¯s touch.

    As the flames engulfed the platform that held the nuns and abbots, the smell of fabric and wood mixed in with the smell of burning flesh as some abbots tried to smolder out the fire, but that only made things worse for themselves when they found that the fire was simply climbing up by the fabric of their robes. Those who were uninjured scurried into a panic as they either tried to run away by fighting against the crowd or allowed themselves to be trampled upon as they desperately searched through the burned bodies to find their half-dead kin.

    As Alvalar watched, he found himself stricken with fear and panic. His heart was beating at what he felt like a million beats per minute while his hands were trembling as he gazed upon the chaos. What do I do? His thoughts raced through his head, all trying their best to be the first one to get through. I-I can¡¯t move! I can¡¯t speak! I can¡¯t b-breathe! I-I can¡¯t do anything!

    ¡°Marisol!¡± a withered, old voice called out. ¡°Marisol! Mari-¡±

    Frozen by fear, Alvalar found his eyes glued to the viejita that had her head suddenly decapitated as she searched through the pile of bodies for presumably her granddaughter, Marisol. Clothed in an orange robe-dress that had loose, wide sleeves and was tightened at the waist by a golden sash, lightly covering the trousers that barely reached her knees, the woman¡¯s body immediately crumbled to the charred grass beneath her and blood oozed forth like a lake of crimson, swallowing up everything within its path.

    The object of the elderly woman¡¯s sudden death then revealed itself as though whoever was wielding it was trying to show off: a blood-soaked sword with the same strange design on the hilt as Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s blade. Alvalar felt his eyes travel up the brown hand that gripped the weapon but found the murderer¡¯s identity was hidden behind a snake mask while their body was dressed in armor and chainmail like a mercenary. The mask had eerie look to it as it only but a few small slits carved into its scaly, animalistic appearance.

    Whoever the person was, they carried the elderly woman¡¯s head gently in their arms and carefully placed it in front of her body, trying their best to cover her slit throat with her white hair. They gazed at her corpse for a brief moment as though to apologize for their actions, like it was something that needed to be done but they also regretted it at the same time, and then they suddenly turned their head, locking eyes with Alvalar.

    ¡°KAROLLUS, GET ALVALAR TO THE FOREST!¡± Smoke yelled through the screams of those who ran about and somehow managed to be the loudest of all. His voice brought Alvalar back to reality and allowed him to finally take the breath that he was searching for. ¡°DON¡¯T STOP! HIDE IF YOU MUST! JUST PROTECT HIM!¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Alvalar gasped and reached out his hand to grab ahold of his father¡¯s shirt, pants, arm¡­ anything that will hold him back from getting himself murdered just like that little old grandma.

    Perhaps Smoke didn¡¯t hear his son¡¯s plea or see the pained and scared look on his face. Whatever it was, Alvalar¡¯s words didn¡¯t reach him and the Master Metalsmith ran straight into the chaos, his body engulfed by the crowd.

    Suddenly Karollus¡¯ hand gripped Alvalar¡¯s wrist and didn¡¯t let go as he pulled him along through the terrified crowd in the opposite direction. It left him no other choice, but to run alongside him should he want to be next behind that snake person¡¯s blade.

    As the two ran and ran through the stalls and army of people, Karollus¡¯ hold on Alvalar never faltered or wavered. He held onto him like his life depended on it, as though if he suddenly let go, his whole world might just collapse. Alvalar tightened his grip around his former-lover¡¯s hand as well. He wasn¡¯t going to let him die.

    Not now.

    Not ever.

    The smell of smoke faded more and more as the two grew farther and farther away from the festival¡¯s epicenter and merely became one with the atmosphere. Explosions and groans grew louder and more often, making Alvalar¡¯s heart tremble with anxiety for his father.

    Turning his head back, another explosion graced his ears. He slammed his eyes shut as though bracing for the eye-watering touch that usually followed a powerful explosion and its smoke, but once he opened them again, it was as though his worries had been for not.

    Despite blood oozing from the cuts made upon his skin and the burns that left their mark on his copper complexion, Smoke was following behind them with much of his life intact. Peaking over his shoulder was Inferno itself, with its handle and quillon crafted of gold, tightly strapped to the Master Metalsmith¡¯s back with the help of a leather baldric, emulating the very same way that his brother likely had carried the infamous blade all those years ago.

    ¡°DON¡¯T SLOW DOWN, ALVALAR!¡± Smoke yelled angrily as he motioned with a bloody hand to keep on running.

    Curiously, Karollus turned his head back and a look of surprise and relief upon his face as well. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t last for long, as though punished by the Patron Ancestors themselves, Alvalar tripped over a lantern and dragged not only himself but Karollus to the grass.

    As though boiling with anger, Smoke forced himself to quicken his pace. ¡°WHAT ARE YOU TWO WAITING FOR?¡± he barked as he passed them. ¡°TO GET KILLED?¡±

    Certainly not wanting such a fate, both Karollus and Alvalar quickly got to their feet and ran after the Master Smith. With their sweat-drenched hands now bound together once more, Alvalar glanced at the back of his former-lover¡¯s head with a sense of regret for being foolish. A foolishness that could¡¯ve nearly costed both of their lives if that snake-masked person was the one that was rushing after them instead of Smoke, all because he was too worried with what was happening behind him. ¡°Sorry, Karo,¡± he wheezed out with a slight wispiness to it.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± the baker¡¯s son responded. His voice had the same tired sound to it as though it was draining to run and speak at the same time. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    The jungle that surrounded Esperanza had finally made itself known by the overabundance of zahrah that drifted about within its mitts and it was getting closer and closer; its gnarly, branching ceiba trees with trunks large and sturdy enough to be home to the Giant Fire Ants that slept in the canopies above; large bushes that shrouded anything that decided to hide either within it or behind it.

    When Smoke leaped high in the air into the zahrah jungle, Alvalar and Karollus followed. When the soles of his boots touched the forest¡¯s loose dirt floor, Alvalar felt his body demand for rest as it forced him to his knees. Coughing and gasping for the air that his lungs craved, he glanced about and saw Karollus and Smoke were doing the very same, either leaning their bodies against the trunk of trees or laying on their backs against solid earth as they gazed at the starry night sky and wheezed. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    As sweat slide down his forehead, Alvalar could still remember the primal fear he felt when his ears caught wind of the death rattles of those that were still barely alive and the bubbling noises of liters upon liters of blood oozing from wounds. No matter how much he tried to shake it from his memory, his ears still picked up on it as they were still not far away from the source.

    ¡°I¡¯m not cut out for running like this anymore,¡± Smoke confessed through his gasps. ¡°O¡¯ to be thirty-three years younger and go on adventures again as a strapping sixteen-year-old, Estrella in hand, constantly on the run¡­ That¡¯s the life!¡±

    Alvalar raised a hand, but that still didn¡¯t seem to last long either. Every muscle from his face to his toes ached and groaned. ¡°P-papi, this is some kind of dream, right?¡± he desperately asked. ¡°This isn¡¯t real, right?¡±

    Whether it was because he was still reeling from all the running or thought the question was stupid, Smoke didn¡¯t answer right away. He suddenly groaned as he forced himself from to his knees and crawled over to Alvalar. When he was close enough, he gestured his son¡¯s chin upward and locked eyes with him, forcing his apprentice to sit-up properly in his presence.

    Physically drained, Smoke looked like he had just returned from battle; his copper skin radiated a subtle smell of charred oak that deeply seeped into his pores, mixing with the stench of blood that slithered down from the cuts on his arms. His once white undershirt was now painted with brown streaks of dirt and burned here and there, his trousers and boots caked with mud like he had fallen over a few times. Upon further inspection, bulbous blisters, both big and small, scattered about over the surface of his dirtied hands and fingers, obviously exuding a lot of pain each time he moved them. It was a miracle that his Tilithian wedding wristlet and Idro Beads still remained bound to his wrist. It was as though they were invincible. ¡°Unfortunately, mijo, this is no dream. Trust me on that.¡±

    ¡°But this has to be!¡± Alvalar roared. ¡°I-I can¡¯t be the Weapon Wielder of Navasar! I just can¡¯t!¡±

    ¡°And why not?¡± Karollus shot back. He slowly made his way over and placed a hand on Alvalar¡¯s shoulder. His words might¡¯ve been heated and filled with anger, but his touch was not. ¡°Why can¡¯t you be? Think about it, Alvalar: Fire, or anything heat-related for that matter, doesn¡¯t hurt you like it does Smoke and I, and whenever you get angry or embarrassed, this wave of steam rises from your very skin. Even when we would have sex, it got to be unbearable at times since your skin was so blistering hot that I couldn¡¯t even kiss you or hold you for as long as I would¡¯ve liked and don¡¯t get me started on the humidity that would engulf my bedroom the longer we went on. If none of those are signs pointing to you being the Navasarian Weapon Wielder, I don¡¯t know what is.¡±

    ¡°So, you knew about it, Karollus?¡± Alvalar glared.

    ¡°No,¡± he growled, not liking to be accused of things. ¡°Honestly, I always thought it was odd. At first, I thought you swallowed a fuego piedra when you were a babe or something, but that theory didn¡¯t hold up the more I thought about it. Eventually, I just accepted it as a part of you, but when you were announced to the Weapon Wielder of Navasar, everything immediately made sense.¡±

    ¡°Karollus speaks the truth,¡± Smoke confirmed. ¡°The process of discovering the Weapon Wielder of Navasar happens a few hours after birth while the actual coronation is just a formality. At birth, every single Weapon Wielder, regardless of national origin, resemble their respective element in various ways so it¡¯s easy to identify them when the time comes; the Athesanian one was near freezing and had patches of snow on her skin and hair when she was pulled from her mother¡¯s womb; her Tilithian counterpart weighed as much as a twenty pound boulder and her skin turned a boisterous red under her mother¡¯s warmth; the Bilithgoric one is a bit mysterious to pin down since the records sealed away from the common people¡¯s curious eyes due to accounts in past generations where wealthy parents would bribe doctors to forge documents that claimed that their child was the Weapon Wielder of Bilithgorn. According to Esperanza¡¯s birth records, however, you fit the exact criteria of being the Navasarian Weapon Wielder: your temperature was nearly two hundred degrees when you were born, but that slowly tapered off to merely a hundred-and-fifteen. Still a high number for a newborn, the doctors checked for any conditions you might have that could cause this high of a temperature but none were found, and whenever you wailed, steam always rose from your skin. It got to be so unbearable that even your mother couldn¡¯t hold you without a pair of mittens or breastfeed you for very long as you¡¯d burn her.¡±

    ¡°But, still, I can¡¯t,¡± Alvalar replied with a defiant shake of his head. ¡°Papi, this has to be a mistake. I can¡¯t be Tio Alejandro¡¯s reincarnation. I can¡¯t be. I mean, I¡¯m nothing like him. Remember those stories you told me about Tio and how he would get so overwhelmed and angry that he would transform into something that resembles fire in human form? I¡¯ve gotten overwhelmed and have been angry plenty of times, but never have I ever slipped into something that scary. Besides¡­ I¡¯m not as great as Tio.¡±

    Smoke laughed like he thought his son¡¯s reasonings were silly. ¡°Alvalar, if you think that just because you are nothing like my brother disqualifies you from being his successor, you are mistaken. Alejandro was nothing like the Navasarian Weapon Wielder before him ¨C Shastiyah the Hothead ¨C an infamous pirate who was known to buy and sell Navi, raid and burn ports to the ground and kill those who crossed her. When the Head Abbot at the time refused to hand over Inferno to her during her Coronation, she annihilated him with blasting sand. She was also unlike her predecessor, Antonio the Pirate-Hunter, but Inferno still obeyed each and every one of them and unlocked their dormant pyroizing abilities.¡± As though dealing with something made of the frailest of glass, Smoke retrieved the legendary blade, scabbard and all, from inside the leather baldric strapped to his back and placed it in Alvalar¡¯s hands. He then caressed his son¡¯s cheek; his hooded golden eyes were filled with fatherly love while his lips softened into a smile. ¡°Just like it will work for you too, mijo. I know that this is all confusing and scary right now, but you mustn¡¯t keep denying it any longer. You are the seventy-fifth Weapon Wielder of Navasar. You can¡¯t go back in time and change it. You are what you are. But don¡¯t worry ¨C I know you can do it. You¡¯ll be the best Navasarian Weapon Wielder in History, just you wait ¡®n see!¡±

    Although Karollus didn¡¯t add anything, he still intertwined his fingers around Alvalar¡¯s. His grip was a strong one as though he agreed with every single thing that Smoke was saying with all of his heart.

    No longer filled with that special type of warmth, Smoke then turned his eyes over to Karollus as he ordered him to protect the newly crowned Weapon Wielder of Navasar and even presented Estrella to him. Letting go of his hold on his former lover¡¯s hand, the baker¡¯s son took the sheathed-dagger and held her carefully as he listened to how Smoke proclaimed that Estrella now belonged to him, but Alvalar didn¡¯t pay much attention beyond that.

    When he looked upon the legendary blade, it felt like his breath was taken away... Inferno was beyond anything he ever imagined; its wooden scabbard was coated in a thick layer of red lacquer while gorgeous golden-red crocosmia flowers were painted in full bloom on top like they were rowing down a stream of shiny crimson. Surprised by its heavy weight and the tight yellow kakory silk that was tightly strapped to the sword¡¯s golden handle, his eyes grew wide as he further appreciated the craftsmanship that went into the quillon¡¯s detailed engravings that illustrated a bare-bodied woman with long wavy hair being gifted Inferno by the sun while carnage and corpses surrounded her like she was the sole person who reigned supreme in an ancient battle.

    Alvalar couldn¡¯t put his finger on it, but something inside of him began to build and build the more he held Inferno within his grasp. Nostalgia? Power? Confidence? No matter how he tried to classify the feeling, none of them felt quite right. What he could classify without an issue, however, was the feeling of wrongness that slowly crept into his heart. Do I really deserve this?

    Suddenly, his garnet-colored Ezra beads bursted from their hold on his wrist and splattered onto the jungle floor like they were being used in a game of marbles. Tightly furrowing his brows, Alvalar couldn¡¯t help but stare at his wrist with bewilderment.

    ¨®roya, or Local Wise-women, bestowed the bracelets with the ability of acting as a bridge between the two worlds, helping the people communicate with the Patron Ancestors that the women were so innately attuned to. Depending on the skill of the ¨®roya, the link was a powerful one that should never break.

    However, Esperanza¡¯s fifth generation ¨®roya and Aureliano¡¯s mother, Leona Alfonso Fuentes, did mention a cause for a bracelet¡¯s sudden rupture once when Alvalar met her for his Coming-of-Age Ritual on his tenth birthday. The only thing that could cause such a connection to break is something of greater power than me, but that something does not dwell here in the physical realm like you or I, ¨®roya Leona explained to the crowd of newly-turned ten-year-olds that sat in a circle in the middle of the zahrah jungle during twilight. For it to break, the Patron Ancestor themselves, whichever you are going to choose tonight, must have absorbed a wicked energy to protect you from a premature death, causing the string inside their respective bracelet to snap. This can only happen once, regardless of the number of different Patron Ancestor beads you may hold in the future.

    But what type of premature death was Ezra trying to protect Alvalar from? He was already away from the fire¡¯s clutches and able to breathe in mostly clean air. Not only that, but there was no blasting sand to be thrown at him or swords to tear into his flesh, so what was it?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s voice suddenly arose as clear as day.

    ¡°AL, GET DOWN!¡± Karollus shouted after he let out a sharp gasp. Before the metalsmith apprentice could continue his questioning as to the sudden destruction of his Ezra beads, the baker¡¯s son leaped across the air, protectively wrapping his arms around Alvalar as he forced him to the ground.

    Still wrapped snuggly in Karollus¡¯ arms, Alvalar gazed back to where he once stood and watched Smoke have his head taken from him as a sword tore through his neck like a knife to paper.

    With blood splattering high in the air with the ferocity of a waterfall, the birthday boy¡¯s chestnut eyes grew wide with disbelief as he watched, his mouth agape. His hold on Inferno faltered, tumbling to the floor and clattered like a thick bar of iron. Hesitant at first, tears soon quickened their pace more and more with each passing minute, scurrying down those fat and ugly cheeks of his while his heart became increasingly cold.

    Words escaped his grasp as he witnessed how his father¡¯s headless body wavered about, unsure whether it should lay against the roots of a tree alongside his severed head or all by its lonesome upon the shifty dirt. Smoke¡¯s corpse finally decided to lay beside his decapitated head, acting like it was but a curtain that unveiled the snake-masked woman who stood behind them all, crimson-soaked sword in hand.

    Even though her identity was shrouded behind that vizard, she was still the owner of that strange, tornado-like sword whose style he could not place a few hours ago and had that very same voice that once mesmerized him: Hu¨¯-H¨¨ Zhu¨®.

 IX - Karollus

    Pobrecito, Karollus contemplated with an overwhelming sense of pity for the man that he loved, holding him close in his arms.

    While he was not injured, Alvalar was gone. He kept on focusing all of his attention back at that tree ¨C the ceiba tree whose large and gnarly roots provided a resting place for his father¡¯s corpse ¨C as though it was the only thing on this Nakoi-blessed earth. Tears shed down his cheeks and caressed his handsome square jawline relentlessly, making those gorgeous chestnut eyes of his turn ever more bloodshot.

    ¡°Alvalar,¡± Karollus called out in a whisper at first, but it gradually became louder and louder. ¡°Alvalar! Alvalar!¡±

    He called out more and more and even shook him for good measure, but it was clear by the Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s unresponsiveness that no matter what he did, it wasn¡¯t getting through. When Karollus had to release his protective grasp and slowly placed his former lover¡¯s body on the jungle¡¯s grassy floor, Alvalar didn¡¯t even flinch and still held that same tight position like Karollus still had his arms wrapped around him while Inferno laid right beside him, still encased in its scabbard.

    No doubt the pain he was feeling inside was horrible, but it was harder for Karollus to watch. He caressed Alvalar¡¯s tawny cheeks, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. As he stared into the Weapon Wielder of Navasar¡¯s eyes, it suddenly became hard to swallow anything, even his own saliva, as this phantomic sense of cotton balls overwhelmed his mouth. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew watery as the desire to take this pain away from the man that he loved built more and more inside his heart.

    He forced himself to repress those tears, however, and endured the sting that came with it. Now isn¡¯t the time to cry, he reminded himself as he glared at the snake-masked woman who stood there, flaunting the blade that murdered Smoke and probably many other palenqueros. Hopefully, his parents and Misu were not one of them¡­

    Karollus rose to his feet and walked a good distance away from Alvalar¡¯s body, enough that he wouldn¡¯t trip over him should he need room to fight, but also enough that he could keep a consistent eye on him. With his hand in his pocket, he held onto Estrella¡¯s hilt, feeling every inch of the leather that was wrapped around it.

    ¡°Step down,¡± a female voice from behind the mask ordered. Her voice was deep like that of a matured woman, probably in her mid-thirties, and entrenched in an accent so unlike that of his parents and grandmother and unlike those who lived here in Esperanza. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you. I-I don¡¯t intend to fight you, ¨¦eko.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare call me ¨¦eko like we¡¯re part of the same shann,¡± Karollus hissed angrily, switching to the K¨¦k¨¦ dialect of Eastern Athesan that was spoken at home. ¡°If you are true to word, then why did you go and marr Smoke for, huh? Why are you people here, ruining a day that was beautiful and filled with fun for everyone?! Answer me that!¡±

    The woman¡¯s snake mask glanced downward toward the shifty dirt like she was contemplating on whether or not she should tell him the truth. Then, her shoulders rose and she let out a resigned sigh. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s for my boys,¡± she answered. ¡°This job is the only way I can provide for them in Bilithgorn.¡±

    Karollus couldn¡¯t stifle back the chortle that rose from his throat. ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from a mercenary like you. All you people care about is juno, juno, juno and have no qualms about destroying someone else¡¯s family if it means you can provide for your own. That is the most selfish thing in the world. And what will your arra think when they discover that their El¨¢ is a murderer-for-hire, huh? Honestly, if I were them, I¡¯d commit suicide from the guilt and shame that your actions bring upon the family.¡±

    She pointed her bloodied sword at him, threateningly jabbing its blade through the air as though to emphasize her words. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak as though you, a child, can understand what it¡¯s like to see your boys beg and beg for more food when you barely have enough for tomorrow all because employers are wary of how it¡¯ll look if they hire you because you¡¯re Navi or have Navi heritage! People don¡¯t even trust me near the local well, claiming that I¡¯ll infect the water and turn them and their children stupid and crazy just like my ancestors, and force me to collect water from dirty rain puddles.¡± With a slight move of her right hand, she gestured over to Alvalar with her sword. ¡°I will give you one more chance. Stand aside. If you allow me to kill the Navasarian Weapon Wielder right here and now, I promise on my children¡¯s life that I will allow you to live.¡±

    Due to the years of propaganda and wide-held belief that claimed the Navi to be a slow-witted, evil group of people who had an innate ability to corrupt others and bring about chaos ¨C utter bullshit that was started nearly four thousand years ago by the Second ruler of Navasar, King Argiz the High-Minded, due to loathing those who politically disagreed with him, and whose subtle indoctrination of the general public grew more and more rampant as the years went on as the Navi were slowly but surely seen as sub-human until the fourth Navasarian Weapon Wielder Luna the Spiritual legalized their enslavement once-and-for-all together with her lover Queen Trast¨¢rmar, Argiz¡¯s great-granddaughter, one hundred-and-twenty years later ¨C Karollus knew that there was no point in denying that things haven¡¯t been easy for those who were enslaved or those who are descended from slaves, like himself should he leave the safety of the palenque.

    While he could sympathize with the woman¡¯s situation, having heard of the horror stories that Mother and Granny Kini were forced to experience during their enslavement at the Rudas Manor in the Athesanian province of Ethlah, like that time Granny Kini was beaten for pulling too hard on ¡°aunt¡± Eboni¡¯s hair while getting her ready one morning ¨C something Granny would gladly endure a hundred times over if it meant she was able to inflict pain upon the woman who sold off her blood-children ¨C it still didn¡¯t absolve the mercenary of her evildoing. Nothing will. Human life is never something trivial.

    With a hardened glare, Karollus unsheathed Estrella in one fluid motion. She felt odd in his hands. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she belonged to Smoke up until a few minutes ago or due to never holding a dagger before. Usually if he wanted to fight someone or beat up the bullies that were tormenting others, he¡¯d just use his fists, but swords and daggers were all made for stabbing and cutting down foes with but a mere slice. He used knives plenty of times back at the bakery, but this was different.

    One foul move and he¡¯s gone.

    Dead.

    As he gazed upon Estrella and back at the blade that mercenary woman was wielding, Karollus forced himself to swallow a harsh gulp of saliva while his heart was trembling with fear, his grip on Estrella¡¯s hilt loosened.

    No.

    While feeling those things weren¡¯t necessarily the issue, showing it was. He had to be strong. He must be strong for Alvalar and protect him like he promised not only Smoke, but also Alvalar himself back when they first started dating. And so, tightening his grip upon his dagger¡¯s handle, Karollus spread out his feet into a solid and unyielding stance. ¡°If you want him, then you¡¯re going to have to kill me first.¡±

    As though taking him up on the offer, the masked woman raced towards him with her sword in hand.

    Karollus braced himself for the impact behind Estrella, using her fifteen-inch onyx blade and his left fist to shield any vital organs. Hearing his heart thumping in his ears made the anticipation a cruel mistress as the distance between their two blades drew ever so nearer. If sword fighting is as easy as brawling with my fists, I should be fine, he told himself in an attempt to ease his nerves. I should be fine. I should be fine. I should be fine.

    He was wrong.

    When the sword collided with Estrella, the force was overwhelming, bringing him to his knees as he struggled under its weight, hands shaking. Her blade was only a few inches longer than Estrella, but it was clear that the momentum she built up had aided her.

    Steam rose forth from Estrella¡¯s onyx body, her little red fragments shined and twinkled like her namesake, however the heated water vapor wasn¡¯t strong enough to melt through her blade or create a dense fog. If not for that, then what was the whole point of mixing the stone fragments into the blade in the first place?! To look pretty?!

    As though sympathizing with her owner, Estrella began groaning under the weight as well. Karollus gridded his teeth as he let out a strained moan. This is what I get for being cocky, he cursed at himself. If he wanted to gain some ground, he was going to have to use all of the strength he could muster. First, it started with his legs as he slowly planted them down on the ground one after another and then with the raising of his arms, he slid Estrella from the blade¡¯s trunk to as high as he could make her go.

    Somehow the strength behind the clash had weakened once his dagger reached the mid-point of the woman¡¯s sword, allowing him to finally give one final push and stand tall once more. Not wanting to let this moment to be a fleeting victory, he kicked the woman in the knee with all of his might.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Panting, Karollus saw how his kick unfortunately didn¡¯t have the power to break her knee cap like he would¡¯ve liked due to it being incased in a layer of protective padding, but for what it was worth, it still brought her to knees long enough to allow himself some space and glance over at Alvalar.

    He hoped to see some change in his condition, however, his former lover was very much the same as before: a lifeless doll. Zahrah drifted through his body like he was nothing. Hopefully, he could at least feel the cold chill that accompanied those little leaf ghosts.

    With Zahrah phasing through him as well, Karollus ignored their chill and returned his attention back to his opponent, observing how defenseless she was now that she was rubbing her knee and let out a sharp groan. Her sword was still very much in her hand, but it was practically useless since she was preoccupied. However, getting close can be risky. She could be faking her reaction or use her obvious experience over swordplay to overpower him again, but if he never attacked her straight on, this battle could go on forever¡­ not if he can slow her down.

    Yes.

    If he could just slow her down by dodging and only lightly parrying, using that weak point as an advantage until an opening came, he can deliver the first of many blows!

    Sinking her blade into the dirt, the masked mercenary slowly rose to her feet once more. Still reeling from the kick, her shoulder rose up and down feverishly like she was panting. ¡°T-that was a dirty trick!¡±

    With a grin from ear to ear, Karollus gestured her to come forward with a motion of his dagger. ¡°There are more tricks where that came from,¡± he teased. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ll have to cut off my head to put an end to my endless imagination.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure!¡± she roared, lunging at him with sword in hand.

    At first, her jabs were easy to avoid since Karollus just had to step to the side one after the other, like he was hopping on one foot then switched over to the other, but her swordsmanship was quickly becoming more erratic like she was growing irritated.

    While his plan of slowing her down was working, the negatives also reared their ugly head. Her erratic nature made it difficult to inch any closer and unleash an offensive attack, and dodging proved to grow more costly and dangerous since her moves were becoming more and more unpredictable.

    When she drew her sword back to ready a jab, she instead swung and slashed at him; having his beard sliced and suffering a few cuts and nicks at the skin on his face and neck taught him that about her. Strangely, the cuts did not hurt. Perhaps it was the adrenaline that continued to power his body, or his continual focus on her and not the pain.

    While her erratic and clever swordplay was difficult to evade and deflect, Karollus found that as he continued to study his opponent¡¯s posture before she struck again, there was a minor delay. If he blinked, he¡¯d miss it. And then it happened again, but this time it looked more like a trembling of her leg like she was in pain despite never having stabbed her.

    The kick in the knee, he remembered and a sudden grin washed over his face.

    Her erratic nature must¡¯ve been a way that she was keeping his focus on her and not on her injury that was clearly leaving her wide open. As her opponent, Karollus had to admit that was smart. Very smart.

    If he could abuse her injury, he could finally inch closer and attack! As he studied his opponent¡¯s movements more and more, the baker¡¯s son began to feel the sense of excitement engulf his very being.

    Now?! No, too risky. How about n- No!

    As he calculated a time to finally attack, the opportunity was given to him multiple times, but he refused to take it. The delay wasn¡¯t long enough to slip past her defenses cleanly.

    The masked mercenary woman suddenly slashed at him, but having parried with Estrella, Karollus applied all of his strength to push the sword aside¡­ and there he had it.

    A window.

    She was too surprised by his sudden strength that she did not have the time to move her sword in time and her trembling leg didn¡¯t help.

    Wanting to surprise her even more and perhaps feeling a bit too excited himself, the baker¡¯s son drew his right hand back, the hand he used to hold Estrella, and threw a punch¡ª

    SSSSLLLLAAAASSSHHH!

    Karollus¡¯s heart fell to the pit of his stomach as he watched the woman¡¯s blade change direction ¨C from being pushed aside to suddenly raining down from above in what felt like a blink of an eye ¨C and slice through his hand, his skin, muscles and bones having the durability of room-temperature butter.

    With Estrella still attached, his amputated hand thumped onto the shifty dirt below, lifeless.

    BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP! BA-DUMP!

    His heart immediately threw itself into a panic. With his left hand, the baker¡¯s son grabbed at his wrist, but was greeted with the combined force of gushing blood, soft muscle tissue and the hardness of shattered bone all at once. Fear engulfed him as he tried to stop the bleeding by applying pressure, but the slipperiness of the warm blood made it difficult.

    Terrified, Karollus glanced up, but before he could catch the sight of that snake-masked bitch who cut off his hand, a sharp kick to the stomach sent him tumbling to the floor.

    Due to the terrain inside the zahrah jungle being uneven at times, the baker¡¯s son soon found himself rolling down a hill after suffering another kick to his side. Rocks and roots of nearby cebia trees crashed against his body as though their only purpose was to further his descent and cause more pain. Rolling through mud puddles wasn¡¯t fun either as its sludge coated his dark skin, warping his complexion and clothes in its dirty embrace; his dreads were not exempt either¡ª

    CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!

    Air was stolen from his lungs as an indescribable pain ran down his back, feeling the bumpy, intertwining roots of a large tree against his right hip and the harshness of tree bark to his back. While he gasped and gasped for air, the sounds of a Safra Climbing Dove¡¯s threatening kicks clashing against the tree¡¯s bole suddenly echoed from above. Despite the distance between the two, Karollus could sense the bird¡¯s powerful kicks from all the way down here in a pulsating wave that emanated from deep within the tree and had one clear message in mind: Stay quiet, human.

    ¡°Karollus!¡± Alvalar suddenly called out as though in a gasp; his tenor voice had a strained hoarseness to it. The baker¡¯s son did not know what brought his former lover out his lifeless, trance-like state, but all that mattered was that he was back.

    Karollus couldn¡¯t cry for joy just yet, however. As though his body was trying to help, he was then forced into a coughing fit. His lungs burned and his face grew hot while his body curled itself into a protective ball. Not showing any signs of stopping or helping, the coughing became relentless as Karollus began to gag, feeling those flans from earlier rise higher and higher into his esophagus, just itching to meet him.

    Not having control over anything anymore, the Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s bodyguard submitted to the urge. Grabbing ahold of the gnarly, moss-covered roots, he pulled himself forward and retched up a heavy waterfall of vomit. Saliva slithered down his chin while the air grew hot, amplifying the noisome smell that greeted his nostrils and the din of gagging and semi-digested chunks of flan and other foodstuff plopping against the forest floor beside him to an odious degree.

    When he was done emptying his stomach, the air around him was now chilly and almost soothing, his eyes watery. Cautiously, his chest rose and fell, finally able to breathe in the crisp, if slightly contaminated, air into his lungs.

    Poco poco. Exhausted and still in pain, Karollus groaned weakly as he wiped the saliva from his chin and batted away the tears, slowly rolling his back against the tree as he continued to take one breath at a time. Not forgetting the seriousness of his injury though, he carefully bundled up his amputated hand in his work shirt, attentive as to keep it elevated and apply pressure as best as one could when they¡¯re shaking and afraid. Poco po¨C

    The curved tip of a blood-stained sword suddenly appeared a mere millimeter away from his nose. Even if it wasn¡¯t piercing his skin just yet, he could still sense its sharpness. The baker¡¯s son heart trembled nervously like it was a ticking-time bomb ready to explode. It somehow managed to override the pulsating pain in his wrist and the throbbing of his surely bruised skin.

    Anxiously, Karollus¡¯ eyes followed the sword and caught the sight of that snake-mask again. There she stood, dressed in cheaply made armor that protected the most vital of organs while dense padding guarded her limbs, strapped to the dark clothing underneath, her boots had the pointy, noticeable scales of high-quality stingray hide as they stood atop the tree¡¯s roots like they were nature¡¯s staircase.

    Behind her twinkled the brightness of the fire that engulfed the festival, the fire that she and her group caused by throwing blasting sand into crowds of innocent people, though it seemed to be of lesser intensity than before. Some parts were bright with flames while others were completely doused and cloaked in darkness. No doubt it was the doing of those mar-piedra tridents that the town guards always had strapped to their back, using the stone¡¯s ability of summoning strong ocean waves to gain control amidst the fiery chaos.

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one that¡¯s clever, ¨¦eko,¡± the masked woman said, leg no longer trembling and now as straight as an arrow. Then she let out a sigh as though disappointed. ¡°It¡¯s a shame that you didn¡¯t heed my advice. You should have listened.¡±

    Inferno, whose legendary blade was submerged in flames, was swiftly pressed to the woman¡¯s throat. Although it did not seem to be burning her skin like an open, raging fire should, almost as though it was just an illusion, it definitely diverted her attention, as did Karollus¡¯. The owner of the mythical blade then revealed himself from behind the woman, much larger and taller than he was before.

    ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM, HUO-H¨¨,¡± Alvalar growled in a raspy, almost charred voice that had this echo effect reverberating through the air, sounding like plenty of people were speaking not only through him, but also together in unison. His mouth was consumed by flames that bellowed forth slightly each time he spoke. ¡°YOU KILL HIM, I KILL YOU.¡±

 X - Karollus

    The more Karollus observed Alvalar, the more he found himself agreeing with his former-lover¡¯s previous statement about how his uncle would transform into this scary state in periods of intense anger and other overwhelming emotions; with his mouth engulfed in a fiery hell-storm, his irises had shifted from a nice brown color to a piercing pair of smoldering hot coal while his dark brown curls had seemingly burned off his hair-tie as his hair bursted into flames, tumultuously dancing through the air like a giant out-of-control candle. The way his body had embodied these traits, this¡­ this Elemental Semblance of Fire, and morphed him in such a way that Alvalar certainly looked horrifying indeed.

    Hu¨¯-He lowered her sword. Cautiously, Alvalar retreated his own blade as well a moment later. No longer having a sword pressed to her throat, there was nothing restricting her movements anymore. Pivoting on her heel as though she was once a dancer, Hu¨¯-He twirled and slashed at her one and true objective: Alvalar Ignacio Leal.

    If it was not for the fact that he was in this Elemental Semblance state which allowed him to hop back in short fire-powered bursts, the Weapon Wielder of Navasar would¡¯ve been a goner. However, he didn¡¯t seem to be disturbed by this fact. The Alvalar that Karollus knew - the Alvalar that was the goofy and fun-loving oaf that he loved with all of his heart - would¡¯ve surely been cursing his head off at such close calls, but this wasn¡¯t him; he had such an eerily calm and cool demeanor that it seemed almost void of human emotion like whatever was possessing him was ethereal in nature.

    Adjusting Inferno closer to his body, Alvalar tightened his grip on its hilt while he eyed Hu¨¯-H¨¨ with a crossed expression. Although her face was hidden behind that snake mask of hers, Karollus wouldn¡¯t put it pass Hu¨¯-H¨¨ to stare back at her opponent with the same frustrated mien. No words were needed to be said or thrown at each other, however. The air was tense as it is.

    With an anxiety-stricken heart, Karollus constantly glanced at the two of them. His eyes moved about so much that his head began to ache, and the single, most important thought that he had running through his head grew more louder and raucous as though it was meant to complement the beating of his heart: which one of them is going to win?

    As though they each had access to his thoughts, both Hu¨¯-H¨¨ and Alvalar were off, seemingly eager to provide an answer for him (and themselves) as they raced towards one another. However, unlike previously, it seems that Hu¨¯-H¨¨ had found her match in the Navasarian Weapon Wielder. When their blades collided against one another, neither submitted to the other, each appearing to of equal skill.

    Being the other¡¯s equal, however, was not going to win you the battle. Knowing this, Alvalar inhaled sharply and threw a torrent of fire at Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s face.

    ¡°N?PPHO!¡± Despite knowing that his flames didn¡¯t have the ability to burn her, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ still reacted accordingly in a terrified panic, cursing as she backed away and threw off her mask in a hurry as though it was really on fire. Having her true appearance shown, a Navi of Athesanian descent with the same dark complexion and lavender eyes as Granny Kini, didn¡¯t seem to be her intention today as her brows tightened with anger once she realized that her brain was just tricking her. ¡°Oh, now you¡¯re really going to get it, you little n?ppho,¡± she growled, glaring at the Navasarian Weapon Wielder.

    Alvalar¡¯s lips grew wide in a cocky smirk. ¡°BRING IT ON.¡±

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨ lunged at him and slashed in her infamously erratic manner, but Alvalar responded in an equally unpredictable way; one minute he would act like a solider and clash swords with her, but once she overpowered him, he dodged her like he was dancing. It was a dance that was seemingly meant to taunt her with his quick movements as he slid from side to side like a rock skipping along the surface of a body of water. He also surprisingly patient, far more so than Karollus was when he fought Hu¨¯-H¨¨, and because of it, he was rewarded when Hu¨¯-H¨¨ accidently left herself wide open. Using Inferno as a pole that aided to propel himself forward, Alvalar kicked Hu¨¯-H¨¨ in the face with all of his force.

    As Karollus watched the mercenary woman flew back and crashed into the jungle¡¯s shifty dirt like she was a character that belonged inside the Mugiwara comic book series that he¡¯s loved since childhood, he wouldn¡¯t help but stare back at Alvalar with a combination of confusion and pride. How did Alvalar suddenly how to fight? Of course, its impressive, but it doesn¡¯t make any lick of sense. Whenever bullies harassed Alvalar, it always ended in either Karollus having to rescue him or the Weapon Wielder of Navasar beaten in a bloody pulp should he try to fight back. Alvalar did had some run-ins of success like headbutting Alexi or flipping Juan over his shoulder and slamming him on the ground, but that was quickly short-lived as three other guys would jump him in retaliation. This sudden power-up where he knew how to swordfight and dodge with ease was out of nowhere!

    Alvalar rose Inferno¡¯s blade from within the earth and, without a moment to waste, he quickly held the legendary blade with both of his hands and was in mid-swing, possibly readying himself to send a wave of flames at Hu¨¯-H¨¨, when Elemental Semblance suddenly vanished; his bright fiery hair collapsed and returned to its normal brown curls whose length blocked his line of sight, the fire that erupted from his mouth dissipated and his eyes were no longer red-hot coals. Even the fire that engulfed Inferno was gone.

    Did I cause it? Karollus wondered nervously. Was it because I was questioning it and the fact that I was placing doubt make Elemental Semblance disappear?

    As though confused himself, Alvalar looked at Inferno after tucking some of his curls behind his ears, lost in his own train of thoughts.

    Although she was bloody and injured, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ still rose to her feet and lunged for the Navasarian Weapon Wielder. She knew that they were equals when he was in Elemental Semblance, but now that he had reverted back to normal, the balance of power had shifted.

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨ was getting closer and closer, leaping across the roots that littered the ground, and still no acknowledgement from Alvalar. It was as though he had forgotten that he was in the middle of a swordfight all together.

    Karollus gritted his teeth angrily. ¡°PAY ATTENTION, YOU KAVA¡¯O! SHE¡¯S COMING TO KILL YOU!¡±

    Despite insulting him, it was good to see that Karollus¡¯ words had reached his former-lover¡¯s ears and he finally paid attention again. ¡°?CO?O!¡± Alvalar shouted as he stumbled back just in time to endure a sole gash on his left arm.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Although the baker¡¯s son knew that if the Navasarian Weapon Wielder stayed any longer in that daze of his, he would¡¯ve become another member in the newly-amputee club, Karollus didn¡¯t necessarily feel delighted either as he heard the metalsmith apprentice scream in pain.

    ¡°?CO?O!¡± Alvalar hissed. ¡°?TU PUTA!¡± No matter how many times he cursed, it still didn¡¯t seem to pacify the pain of the deep cut that tore through his skin and muscles. He groaned as he tried to endure it as best he could, using his right hand to cover the wound and provide support to keep his injured arm from trembling, but no matter how strong he seemingly held onto his arm, it didn¡¯t stop shaking. His shoulders went up and down heavily as the smell of fresh blood filled the air.

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s expression was neither one of a predator that enjoyed seeing her prey in pain nor was it sympathetic. Although she allowed Alvalar moment to react to his pain without outright killing him, that moment didn¡¯t last long as she continued to slash at him.

    Whether it was because he was injured or due to a lack of experience, Alvalar had difficulty swinging Inferno with an even strength, causing him to use all of his might to deflect a couple of blows while leaving him defenseless for the rest. Dodging her moves by moving about were tricky as well.

    Seeing his former-lover endure more nicks and cuts and gashes than he ever did caused tears to swell in Karollus¡¯ eyes. It was obvious that Alvalar was trying, but it wasn¡¯t enough¡ª

    The Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s footwork suddenly wavered and he let out a yelp as he stumbled. If it was due to his own clumsiness or the doing of the tree roots, Karollus was not quite sure. All the fighting was taking place too far away and the light from the fires wasn¡¯t as strong as it once was. Although Alvalar tried to keep his balance, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ wasn¡¯t going to allow it. Using his predicament against him, she swept her leg right from under him, causing him to truly fall over.

    ¡°Get up, Al,¡± Karollus whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

    Alvalar let out a painful groan when he collided with the bumpy ceba roots, but he did try to raise to his feet, albeit slowly and with much care as though his ankle had been sprained. Hu¨¯-H¨¨ suppressed his effort, however, and held him down by pressing her boot against his chest. She went through hell to get to him, and now that she finally had him pinned, she wasn¡¯t going to let him go.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Karollus realized. His heart sunk and his eyes grew wide in disbelief.

    Alvalar struggled, grabbing ahold of Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s ankle and squeezed with all his might. ¡°LET GO OF ME!¡± he demanded.

    Even if it hurt her, the mercenary woman did not waver or flinch in her domination. Denying his request, she stabbed her opponent¡¯s shoulder with her sword, effectively squashing his resistance.

    Alvalar¡¯s heavily breathing and screams littered the air with its presence, resembling those who somehow managed to survive the blast from close-range and were able to cry out.

    This can¡¯t be happening.

    This can¡¯t be happening.

    As though taking joy in taunting Karollus, the light from the orange moon reflected off the surface of Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s sword, making it clear for all to see as she pulled it out from her opponent¡¯s wound and lowered the blade¡¯s tip beside Alvalar¡¯s neck as he continued howling in anguish, grasping at his shoulder as though it was a delicate flower.

    ¡°ALVALAR!!!¡± Karollus yawped, his heart tight with fright. Huffing and puffing, he consumed all of the pain as he struggled to raise to his feet, but a sharp, unbearable pain erupted from his lower back, leaving him unable to pass that final step of pushing his knees off the ground. Angrily, he glared at his thighs and hit them one after another with his good hand, not caring about the pain it caused him. ¡°GET UP, DAMN YOU!¡± He roared desperately, eyes wet with tears. ¡°GET UP!¡±

    But no matter how much Karollus pushed himself, nothing worked. He was reminded of how jealous he felt as he watched the twins practice, and how insignificant he felt when Keian and Kyrah shot arrows from 600 yards away while he could only shoot from the 400 line. Even if he improved, he always grew anxious whenever he shot closer to their skill level, effectively causing him to miss every time and relegate him to a lower and lower tier. Although this was nothing as trivial as archery, the feeling of powerlessness still ranged through his core, and he despise it.

    Hu¨¯-H¨¨ drew her blade back over her shoulder as though she was analyzing Alvalar and how she could inflict a good, clean cut. Her lavender eyes grew wide like she finally found it, and without a moment¡¯s waste, she swung her arms.

    ¡°NO!¡± Karollus sobbed loudly, his lips trembling. ¡°PLEASE, STOP!! PLEASE!!!!¡± He reached out his hand while tears and snot gushed down his face. It was torture as he was forced to watch her sword sliced through the air, drawing closer and closer to the man he loved.

    RRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

    At first, Karollus thought that the sudden thunder-like roar was just a fantasy that his mind had conjured up, but when Misu leaped through the air, over the bushes and pounced Hu¨¯-H¨¨, he could not believe his eyes. However, he dared not blink either as he watched the calibress use her mighty weight to pin the woman to the ground.

    With her large round ears pulled back and the chocolate fur along the ridge of her back pointing high in the sky, she roared once more in Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s face.

    ¡°GET OFF!¡± Hu¨¯-H¨¨ ordered, trying to swing her sword despite having her wrists held down. ¡°GET OFF ME, YOU BITCH!¡±

    The calibress grabbed Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s blade with her teeth and ripped it from her hand. No matter how good her skill with the sword truly was, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ was nothing without its razor-sharp blade. Under the bite force of a four-hundred-pound carnivore, the iron-hard murder weapon groaned until it ultimately shattered like glass. Where¡¯s your sword now?! Misu seemed to ask in a low, guttural growl, no longer paying the zahrah that phased through her any mind.

    ¡°YOU DAMN CALIBRESS!¡± Somehow, Hu¨¯-H¨¨ managed to wiggle a hand from Misu¡¯s hold and began to pound her fist into the calibress¡¯ head. ¡°LET GO OF ME!¡±

    Withstanding the mercenary¡¯s abuse, Misu let out a snarl as though in a warning. But Hu¨¯-H¨¨ didn¡¯t listen nor did she care and continued bashing her fist against the carnivore¡¯s skull until Misu attacked. With the calibress¡¯ fangs deeply embedded around her neck, Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s movements became more prey-like as though she was fighting back, kicking her legs. She struggled to find her breath, gasping and wheezing for air, any words she managed to form were slurred and incomprehensible.

    When her resistance grew weaker and the scent of blood became stronger, Karollus looked away, refusing to watch a woman die. Although she killed probably a good chunk of people and her death was necessary for Alvalar¡¯s survival, as well as his own, he still found Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s last moments alive a difficult thing to witness.

    THUD!

    Karollus knew Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s corpse was the one that made that noise, and as though cautious, he returned his sights on Misu. No longer crushing a human¡¯s airway, he saw Misu lick away the human blood that covered her lips against the moon¡¯s orange glow, her paws burned and bloody from the fire that engulfed Esperanza. The baker¡¯s son found his eyes fell on Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s corpse. He gulped for a moment and quickly shifted his attention back to his former lover¡¯s calibress.

    ¡°A¡¯hahi,¡± he praised with much shame, wiping away the sticky mucous from his upper lip.

 XI - Karollus

    Misu looked at Hu¨¯-H¨¨¡¯s corpse with little regard as she hurriedly trotted over to Alvalar, not revealing the pain that her paws surely felt each time she took a step. She began to grunt and wheek softly as though she was encouraging her very own cub to take its first steps. But Alvalar refused to raise from where he laid. She then nudged his head with hers, but again nothing.

    Did Hu¨¯-H¨¨ kill him? Karollus thought nervously. The shame that filled his heart was relegated to the back as dread and anger took over. Was Misu too late? If only I got up¡ª

    A weak hand rose, illuminated by the moon¡¯s glow as it caressed Misu¡¯s chocolate fur. Karollus¡¯ heart leaped at the sight of the hand, but he held his breathe skeptically as he watched Misu tug on the hand¡¯s fingers.

    ¡°OW!¡± Alvalar groaned. ¡°Misu, I¡¯m alive, okay?! ?Ya! You don¡¯t need to pull on my hand. My left shoulder got stabbed with a sword and it hurts like hell, so stop pullin¡¯!¡±

    Whether it was because the calibress was skeptical like Karollus or out of sheer excitement, she tugged on her owner¡¯s hand once more. Although weak, Alvalar sat up as though he was ready to scold her for not listening, but Misu bombarded his face with slobber. Alvalar laughed and wrapped his unhurt arm tightly around his trusty calibress¡¯ neck.

    With Inferno sheathed inside its scabbard, Alvalar soon got himself back on his feet. He was limping, but by using his sword as a cane and leaning some of the rest of his weight on Misu¡¯s massive body, he slowly managed to climb over those pesky vines.

    He stopped midway in his journey and picked up Estrella, her red shards glistening brightly in the darkness like it was acting as a lantern. It took some while for Alvalar to make it over where Karollus laid, but when he did and wrapped Karollus¡¯ good arm around his stocky shoulders while placing a hand against his hip, the baker¡¯s son found himself finally beginning to believe this wasn¡¯t just a dream. He even slid Estrella into his pocket and into her leather scabbard for good measure.

    Even though Alvalar was helping him to his feet with much care, the pain that coursed through Karollus¡¯ body was still excruciating. He groaned and moaned, trying to focus and not pass out from the pain. When he finally managed to stand tall, however, the less of the pain he felt ¨C Thank Nakoi!

    Wanting to forget about the pain and get rid of the last ounce of skepticism in his heart, Karollus gently caressed his former lover¡¯s cheek with his good hand. Alvalar turned and locked eyes with the baker¡¯s son, smiling as though filled with pride.

    With the combined force of the moon and the fire, Alvalar¡¯s illuminated face was revealed to be covered in gashes and cuts of various sizes and severities, his curls clinging to the sticky blood that coated his skin. The lesser and smaller ones had already stopped bleeding and was now healing before Karollus¡¯ very eyes, however, the largest gash, which ran from his right cheek all the way past his ear with some of his earlobe missing, showed no signs of immediate healing. Although no longer bleeding, the wound was still fresh and the muscles that were torn were still bright red in color.

    Despite the scent of iron was invaded Karollus¡¯ nostrils with their overpowering stench, the metalsmith apprentice was still able to move about, albeit carefully and one at a time, and he knew that meant one thing:

    He was alive.

    ¡°Don¡¯t believe I¡¯m alive and kickin¡¯, Karo?¡± Alvalar asked with a slight chuckle. His brows arched while his smile morphed into a smirk that shined brightly upon his lips. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. Neither do I.¡±

    Karollus felt a subtle pinch in his nose and his face turn hot once more as more and more tears tumbled down his cheeks, stinging the cuts they came across. ¡°I-It¡¯s not funny, you kava¡¯o,¡± he sobbed, pulling his former lover into a tight embrace.

    ¡°Yo se,¡± Alvalar replied. His tenor voice was much more serious, if a bit sad, in tone as it rang in his bodyguard¡¯s ear. The lightheartedness of his previous statement was gone as though it had faded away without a trace, like it was but a bluff. He shifted his weight a bit and slowly wrapped an arm around Karollus, holding him as tightly and as closely as he could. ¡°Yo se.¡±

    The baker¡¯s son clenched the Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s work jerkin as he cried and cried. His shoulders trembled about and it was hard to gasp for air, but that slowly came to halt as did the tears. Feeling tired but also a bit cathartic, he finally released the metalsmith apprentice from his tight embrace after what felt like a good eight minutes of straight weeping.

    With a shaking hand, Alvalar slowly caressed Karollus¡¯ face, wiping away the few tears that still lingered. ¡°Karo, show me your hand.¡±

    Karollus felt his stomach stir when his former lover¡¯s order had registered into his brain. His intestines were like snakes that got themselves caught and twisted into a knot and then another knot. His breathing turned heavy as he took in the sight of his hand submerged in the cloth of his shirt and the blood that was soaked deeply into the fabric.

    His eyes shifted back to Alvalar. The Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s expression was a serious one, almost resembling Aureliano with those furrowed brows and lips fixed into a tight line. Altogether, it looked like he was a wearing a mask that was unyielding to any other emotions that might be bubbling about just below the surface.

    ¡°Do you need help?¡± Alvalar asked firmly.

    Even if it was going to hurt and be a disturbing thing to witness, it was something that needed to be done. His shirt was covered with mud and if he continued to expose his wound to that, the rate of infection would surely increase and it wouldn¡¯t just be his hand that would be taken away from him. It could be his entire forearm, or arm. Losing anything more would render him a disgrace, unfit to be an archer, but also a baker as well. ¡°No,¡± Karollus replied. ¡°I can do it.¡±

    The Navasarian Weapon Wielder¡¯s bodyguard felt his nervousness begin to harden as he used his good hand to slowly pull away the linen against the raw muscle and hard blood¡ª

    A sharp pang shot from his amputated limb. It felt like part of a scab had just been yanked off all in one go, and all of that hardened blood began to flow once more with the freeness of a raging river. The porcelain hue of bone peaked through as well; though it was but a nub, it was still sharp like the point of a dagger.

    With his heart frantic, his eyes turned watery as he was rendered frozen as he gazed at the horrible sight.

    Don¡¯t stop, Karollus told himself, suppressing his fears as best he could. Keep going.

    Breathing heavily helped ease a little of the pain that evolved in magnitude as he pulled away more and more of the bloody linen that clung to him like frosting to cake. By the time he was done, his hand was left trembling and blood gushed outward, coating his dark skin in its sticky embrace one more.

    ¡°Good job, Karollus,¡± Alvalar praised. He tucked Inferno under his armpit as he tug on his own long sleeve, but his strength wasn¡¯t enough to tear it free. Biting his lips, he tried again with more force. A painful groan escaped his lips when he was finally able to rip the cloth from its stitching. Wasting no time, he promptly wrapped the Karollus¡¯ wound in the cloth for as many rounds he was able to. It was growing tighter and more secure, but it was losing its speed. ¡°Sorry,¡± he apologized. ¡°My damn shoulder is holding me back.¡±

    ¡°Do you need some bandaging too?¡± Karollus asked. ¡°I can help. I can tie it for you.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the Navasarian Weapon Wielder replied. ¡°At least not now. You are what¡¯s most important right now.¡±

    The baker¡¯s son found himself smiling softly at the sweetness and sincerity of his former lover¡¯s words. ¡°Thanks, but you¡¯re important too, y¡¯know.¡±

    Alvalar simply shook his head in disagreement as he continued bandaging, not looking up from his work.

    Not this again, Karollus thought, suspiring an exasperated sigh that had the weight of a boulder behind it. Just like everyone, Alvalar had his own flaws ¨C constantly putting himself down and then needing constant appraisal for when he did something that was honest to Nakoi impressive, like he didn¡¯t believe in himself even though he just did it with his own two hands. This lack of confidence was tolerable at first, but even after these four years of reassurance, it always managed to rear its ugly head until it got too tiring to deal with¡­

    Why can¡¯t he just accept that he is important? That he is good enough? Why does he constantly have to seek out other¡¯s approval? Out of all of the years of Karollus knew Alvalar, he could never find a clear answer to any of those questions. If he asked it was due to him constantly being bullied by Alexi and his gang, Alvalar would simply try to dodge the question and change the topic. It slowly made Karollus more and more furious. Not only at Alvalar for not trusting him, but at himself as well for not being strong enough to suffer from burned out and just breaking up with him out of the blue like that.

    When Alvalar finally finished bandaging up Karollus¡¯ wound, he looked around as though he was searching for something. His close-set eyes grew wide for a moment and he paused. He immediately tore off his work jerkin and wrapped it around the fresh bandages as tightly as he could. When it was as tight as one could make it, he clipped it closed with a few buttons. ¡°Better?¡±

    Karollus glanced at his wound. Despite being a bundle of cloth, it was sufficient in what it needed to do. He applied pressure to it, and despite hurting, it was no longer coated in mud or other infectant material. He turned his attention back to Alvalar and gave a slight nod.

    ¡°Good,¡± the metalsmith apprentice said. He smiled as though he was relieved that his plan actually worked. Then, he looked out and placed Inferno back into his hand, resuming its role as a mobility aid. He tightened his hold around Karollus¡¯ waist. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve got to get down. Little by little, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± the baker¡¯s son answered meekly.

    Karollus glanced down at the tree¡¯s roots and how they curved and ran along one another. If they miscalculated, they would tumble down and all that work to stop the bleeding would¡¯ve been for nothing.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He clung to Alvalar for safety, and the Navasarian Weapon Wielder patted his hand over Karollus¡¯, comforting his worries. Being this close to Alvalar, Karollus heard his former lover gulp down a mouthful of saliva as though he was scared for his own safety, but he didn¡¯t show it on his face.

    Misu purred a little, as though to encourage the two to take their first steps downward. ¡°Come on you two,¡± she seemed to say, even pulling slightly on their pants. ¡°Just don¡¯t go too fast and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Karollus let out a careful sigh as they slowly but surely descending downward. It was bumpy and a bit slippery due to all the moss that covered the surface of the roots, but in the end, Misu was right. They didn¡¯t go too fast and they ended up just fine.

    When they ended up on solid ground, Misu praised the two by weaving herself between their legs and licking their fingers. Karollus was the first one to laugh, and then Alvalar followed along.

    They sighed a bit after their mirth had subsided. Alvalar turned his attention over to Esperanza. Although the fire had been extinguished, he still looked at it like it was still raging.

    Karollus looked onward, eying the village of his birth with uneasiness that hit him at his very core. The smell of smoke filled his lungs as he looked at the darkness that shrouded the palenque. Not even the light of the moon could shine through it, not revealing even a glimpse of the destruction and death that occurred as though she was trying to protect him from the truth.

    Are El¨¦ and El¨¢ safe and sound? His mind began to race. Or are they on the verge of death due to trying to protect Esperanza with the Dragon Bow and the Ice Bow? Did El¨¢ have the baby ripped from her womb? What if Kyrah had gotten hurt trying to protect Keian? What if Granny had been burned by that blasting sand? He could feel his heart confine itself to the horrible thoughts that plagued his mind, making himself more anxious as to why laid in ahead.

    With only the moon as a source of light, Alvalar returned his attention back to Karollus. Although he looked tired, any more other emotion was locked behind that mask of his, not strong enough to break free. He glanced at the ground at first, as though he was wondering about how to form his words properly, but quickly found the strength to look at Karollus in the eye. His own eyes solid with resolve. ¡°We have to leave, Karollus.¡±

    The declaration was like a shot through the heart. ¡°B-but what about my family?¡± The baker¡¯s son hissed. ¡°My El¨¢ is very pregnant, or have you forgotten?! We can¡¯t just leave them! It¡¯s like you think they aren¡¯t worthy of checking on! I¡¯m sorry, Al, but my family needs me! Aureliano needs us! He¡¯s our best friend! Not only that, but your mother needs you too!¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t leaving them,¡± Alvalar retorted.

    ¡°Oh, really? Then is ¡®abandoning them¡¯ a better word?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t start, Karollus,¡± Alvalar growled. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have an argument about this right now.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to have argument about this either, but we can¡¯t just leave them. You might be able to, but I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°DON¡¯T MAKE ME OUT TO BE THE VILLAIN HERE,¡± Alvalar cried out, balling up his fists. Steam began to consume his palms, hotter than they¡¯ve even been before. His brows furrowed tightly in anger like he was ready to punch him in the face, but he quickly looked away before he did anything he would regret. His eyes fell upon the darkness and the anger that consumed him in that brief moment was extinguished. His expression softened, his lips trembling despite trying to keep them under control and his eyes were not doubt watery.

    Smoke¡­ Karollus remembered.

    Alvalar let out a hoarse breath, hot and humid. Trying to pull the rein in on his emotions, he wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°I know it sounds heartless, but it¡¯s got to be done. We must leave, at least for the night. I promise we¡¯ll come back in the morning. Those people who are in league with Hu¨¯-H¨¨ Zhu¨®, those people who wear the identical snake-mask as her, are after me. That¡¯s the only reason as to why they¡¯re here in the first place. If we leave, they¡¯ll leave everyone else alone.¡±

    ¡°But what if your plan doesn¡¯t work? What if they don¡¯t leave and start using their blasting sand again, hurting more and more people? Have you forgotten that everything surround Esperanza is foliage, perfect for kindling a fire and keeping it going?¡±

    ¡°AND YOU DON¡¯T THINK I DON¡¯T KNOW THAT?!¡± Alvalar shot back in almost explosion-like anger. His attempt to calm himself had gone awry. He balled up his fists once again, but didn¡¯t do anything with them as he continued to speak, ¡°I CARE ABOUT ALL OF THEM, BUT CAN WE ABANDON EVERYTHING AND BECOME RASH IF IT MEANS THAT WE CAN PROTECT A FEW PEOPLE?! NO! IT¡¯S A FUTILE EFFORT AND I WON¡¯T STAND FOR IT. I ESPECIALLY WON¡¯T ALLOW YOU TO THROW AWAY YOUR LIFE INTO A SUICIDE MISSION.¡±

    ¡°AND WHY NOT?¡± Karollus yelled b, all fired up and angry from being yelled at. ¡°IT¡¯S MY LIFE, AND I GET TO DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT!¡±

    ¡°BECAUSE YOU MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!¡± Then there was a long pause as though Alvalar finally got out what he wanted to say, and he looked downward. His shoulders shook as he sniffled and cried.

    It took a few minutes for Karollus to calm down. He was still pumped, but after he took a deep breath and thought carefully about Alvalar¡¯s words, he decided that fighting like this was stupid and more likely turned them into a pair of sitting pufferfish-geese.

    Now that he was calmer, the sounds of Alvalar¡¯s weeping became much louder. Being free of anger allowed him to hear things clearly with an equally clear mind, and he didn¡¯t like what he was hearing. Not one bit.

    Karollus gestured the Navasarian Weapon Wielder to look up at him. When the two locked gazes, the baker¡¯s son found that the gash on his cheek was deeper than it previously seemed, having the whites of his upper teeth peak through. With all that crisp air seeping into his wound, it would have been painful to just speak, let alone scream and shout. It was amazing that Alvalar was able to endure all of it. But that was nothing compared to that glassy look that found themselves unshakable from those chocolate irises of his. When Alvalar¡¯s tears swelled and cascaded down his cheeks, getting Karollus¡¯ own fingers wet, he felt his heart breaking.

    I caused this, he lamented as he caressed his former lover¡¯s cheek, careful as to not touch the giant cut. Me and my big, stubborn mouth.

    Misu tried to comfort her owner by lick his fingers again, hoping that¡¯ll make him laugh like before, but it didn¡¯t work. Calibers didn¡¯t like feeling powerless, especially the females. The calibress size-shifted down to her false form and leaped onto her owner¡¯s shoulder, licking away the tears as they came.

    Alvalar¡¯s tawny complexion turned a tinge red while those trails of tears grew more and more, even faster than Misu could contend with. Seemingly finding his calibress¡¯ persistent licks annoying in a time like this, he placed Misu down on the floor, but quickly gave her a pat before returning his attention back to Karollus. ¡°Just¡­¡± his tenor voice was wispy and sob-like as though he was begging with all of his being. ¡°Just listen to me. I know that it¡¯s hard for you to accept something as extreme as this, and I would agree with your sentiment on any other day, but¡­ but I don¡¯t want to lose you like I lost my dad. I don¡¯t know if I can take that all in one day. If we stay and help, there is no telling what will happen. If those snake-mask people are laying there in the darkness, we¡¯ll just be falling into their trap.¡± Not caring as to the pain that his left shoulder brought with each subtle movement his corresponding arm made, Alvalar interwove his fingers with the hand that Karollus caressed his cheek with, holding it tight in his grasp. He then brought Karollus¡¯ hand to his lips and placed a gentle yet meaningful kiss upon it. ¡°You¡¯re the last person I want dead, Karollus. Yo te amo.¡±

    Rue contorted Karollus¡¯ face, and his heart was no different. It was like he was stabbed with a razor-sharp knife multiple times. He wrapped his arms around Alvalar¡¯s stocky frame, holding him as tight and as close as one could. Tears swelled and slid down his cheek. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose you too, Alvalar,¡± he confessed into the other¡¯s ear. ¡°I¡¯m going to protect you, but I¡¯m going to see to it that my family is safe as well.¡±

    A lone tree branch snapped in the distance. Against the quietness of night, it was as clear as day.

    Growling with a sense of suspicion, Misu grew ten-times her size and was ready to chase after whatever, or whoever, made that sound. Karollus released his hold on his former lover who quickly raised his hand and his calibress obeyed. Not yet, Alvalar told her with just a glance. Look and listen before you recklessly attack someone.

    ¡°¡­see him, Safyre?¡± a male voice with a wispy Tilithian accent mumbled softly. The first part of his question was beyond the reach of sound, but the second and most important part was a little clearer and closer.

    ¡°No,¡± Safyre replied, her voice thick with a softer Athaese accent that sounded like she hailed from Ethlah just like El¨¦ and El¨¢. It was like the ocean¡¯s tide ran gently against the southern beaches of Athesan before harshly recoiling back into the sea. ¡°But you can never too safe, Kerl. You must go out and check every possibility for yourself.¡±

    In the midst of all that chatter, Alvalar quickly wiped away his tears and grabbed Karollus¡¯ arm. His grip was tight. He was not going to let go no matter what. His eyes moved from Karollus to Misu and back again. Then, he pursed his lips and jutted his chin out. Get on, he said through the gesturing and let go of his arm.

    Not wanting to start another argument and give away their position, the baker¡¯s son begrudgingly climbed atop Misu¡¯s back. Alvalar got on behind him, making sure he had no avenue of escape. He weaved Inferno around Karollus¡¯ shoulder and placed it in his bodyguard¡¯s left hand ¨C his good, yet non-dominant hand.

    ¡°Keep her safe,¡± the Metalsmith Apprentice whispered in Karollus¡¯ ear with a softer, gentler tone than the baker¡¯s son had initially expected.

    As soon as the Weapon Wielder of Navasar grabbed ahold of his calibress¡¯ fur on the side of her neck and made a subtle clicking noise with his tongue, Misu was off and ran south, farther into the dark zahrah jungle.

    Zahrah phased through Karollus one after another, keeping him constantly cold. He hated it. No matter how much he shivered, it did not help. Even his hairy arms didn¡¯t aid him all that much. Not to mention that the roots that Misu either leaped over entirely or climbed over made the ride bumpier.

    Ugh! Vomit rose from deep within the baker¡¯s son¡¯s gut and up his esophagus, however, he shook off the urge and forced it back down.

    Not now.

    Despite all his complaints, however, Alvalar kept Karollus from falling out from either side, his well-built arms acted like reigns on a cheetah-horse that kept the rider within the saddle. Each time their arms touched, it brought warmth back to Karollus¡¯ body and made him feel safe.

    How nostalgic¡­

    However, the delight that consumed his heart did not last for long. He sighed and his heart began to ache once again, unsure as to whether he made the right decision about the breakup, about following along and not staying back to protect his family, about everything¡­

    It¡¯s for the best, his brain told him. But what if you were wrong? His heart almost immediately responded. What if all your relationships, all your loved ones, are as good as dead thanks to you? What about the baby? What about El¨¢? El¨¦? What if you just made the biggest mistake of your life? Will you truly be able to live it down?

    I don¡¯t need this right now! Karollus¡¯s own thoughts broke through. He shook his head and shoved the other, more taxing thoughts away.

    His grip on Inferno tightened and he looked over Alvalar¡¯s shoulder. Everything was pitch-black, not even the moon managed to shine its orange glow through the jungle¡¯s thick foliage. It was strange how Misu even knew where she was going. Even the subtle light that the zahrah gave off as they rode the wind was not enough for him to make out his hometown. But the smell of smoke still lingered in the air, however fading, as though signaling to him that he was on the right track.

    He glanced at his left hand, where his golden Ul¡¯dalir beads laid, then back at Esperanza¡¯s general direction.

    What I need right now is prayer.

    Hope.

    Even if he did not own her beads or regularly present offerings to her, Karollus still called upon the Patron Ancestor of Family anyway. ¡°Eridesi, I realize that I do not have the privilege of speaking to you, but I humbly ask for your audience anyway,¡± he mumbled below his breathe. ¡°I ask for you to look after my family, the whole eight of them, including Kesh and the baby, and protect them in my stead until the sun raises on the morrow.¡±