12 Seleszeni 10.076 Z.C., Late Afternoon

Mav swore. He’d forgotten about the mean old goat at the Imp’s Menagerie. As a kid, the goat frightened him almost as much as the rocs. Now, with the shaggy, russet beast charging at him, he braced for the impact. Too late to get out of the way.

Crouching and spreading his stance wide, he spun sideways and rolled with the inevitable impact. Why does everyone hate my ribs today? he wondered as he bounced off the cold, hard cobblestones.

The crooked old goat brayed in satisfaction, hooves clicking on the street as he lorded over his target. Mav rolled to his feet, wasting no time. He didn’t trust the old curmudgeon not to keep trampling him.

Mean, yellow eyes stared back at him from the rumpled face. Though milky with age, malicious intent still seethed from them. The goat shook his bumpy, ridged horns, signaling readiness to keep fighting. Mav noticed the goat somehow broke a horn since his time as a porter. You deserve it, you cantankerous old f-

“Friend of yours?” Lilla skewered when she’d recovered from laughing at his expense. Mav shot her a momentary glare before focusing again on the goat, shifting on the balls of his feet to place himself between the two.

“He probably smells us from being in the alley earlier. I forgot about him; he’s the Menagerie’s unofficial guard. Got away from Decuri, the owner, years ago. Damn imp never bothered catching him again,” Mav growled. He could’ve sworn the goat growled back.

Lilla chortled. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a cute little goat, Mav,” she admonished, teasing as her eyes narrowed.

Mav straightened, glancing back over his shoulder at her. “Of course not, don’t be ridicul-”

A sharp tug at his foot unbalanced him. “Hey!” he spat, smacking at the goat. Spry for his age, the goat danced away, mocking Mav with a whinny.

“Awww, it even laughs!” Lilla cooed, bending down to get a better look at the goat. “You’re so cute, Mr. Goatsy Woatsy! Bite that mean ol’ Mav!”

“Aren’t I younger than you?” he started, as her comment sank in. A cold breeze kissed his foot, and Mav found one of his boots torn in half by the horned menace’s teeth. What’s more, the goat now chewed on the strip of leather with a contented grin. Mav swore out loud this time. These were the best boots I’ve had in years, and they still had a lot of life in them. Wonder how much a new pair will set me back?

Ducking out from behind Mav, Lilla snickered. “I think he likes you,” she jabbed as Mav pulled off his stripped boot and his thrice-patched sock.

“Let’s go while he’s distracted,” Mav urged, chucking the remnants of his boot at the creature’s head. After a triumphant call, the stray goat watched them leave, then claimed the shoe and returned to the dark alleyway behind Decuri’s to stalk other suspicious bystanders.

“I need to buy a new pair of boots. If you want, you can go ahead to Nadine’s and I’ll meet you there,” he muttered, setting Lilla off into another fit of giggles as she remembered his bare foot. He gritted his teeth and hoped she would leave, but no such luck. She followed him to a cobbler’s stall several streets away which specialized in quick repairs, but also sold footwear.

Mav browsed the slim selection of boots until the shop owner finished assisting another customer.

“How can I help you, sonny?” the middle-aged, mustachioed human, nodding to Lilla. “Looking to buy your girlfriend some shoes?”

Anticipating the necessary explanation, Lilla giggled again. Mav sighed.

“No, sir. I need a pair of boots for myself.”

The clerk’s gaze traveled down to Mav’s feet, taking in the single boot. “So I see,” he quipped with a raised eyebrow.

“Had an encounter with that old goat behind the Menagerie,” he explained, trying to save time. The older man grinned, then winked with knowing sympathy.

“We can get you fixed right up, sonny,” he confirmed, motioning for Mav to follow behind a curtain as he walked toward the back of the stall. “I keep my best stock back here. You look like a discerning customer,” he explained. Then he stopped and peered back at Mav, studying him for a long moment. Mav knew that look. No, please don’t. Not today.

“You a skyjek?” he asked with a brusque patter, turning away. Mav’s stomach churned. Thanks for at least hiding your pity, old man. That’s more than most do.

“Hope to be one soon,” he confirmed, forcing himself to answer the question.

The man nodded without looking at him, rummaging through a crate of boots. Lilla coughed twice from behind the curtain; she didn’t know, did she? Crap, it’s one of the only reasons I can tolerate her - she doesn’t treat me like some little lost prince all the time.

“I think these will suit you. Here, give them a try,” he encouraged, standing to face Mav with a pair of boots. Mav accepted them, sensing the magic of an enchantment in the leather the moment he touched them.

“The magic makes them more durable; should protect them from most goats. They’re not indestructible, mind, so don’t try cleaning them with acid. But I think the enchantment may come in handy for a young soldier like yourself.” The twinkle in the cobbler’s eye intrigued Mav.

He turned the boots over in his hands. Expert craftsmanship, they seemed like the correct size too.

“Mind if I try them on?” he asked.

The mustachioed man gestured to a nearby bench. “Be my guest,” he affirmed.

Mav sat, dusting off his bare foot and tugging his worn sock back on before slipping his foot into the boot. He stood up and wiggled his toes - the fit felt snug, even more comfortable than the destroyed boot, and the low hum of magical energy invigorated him.

“What’s the enchant, and what’s the damage?” he checked. The older man passed a shrewd eye over him.

“You need to attune them first, just meditate or focus on ‘em for about an hour or so. They’ll warm up to you, and these boots’ll take you places, sonny. High up places, if you catch my drift.” He chuckled at his own pun.

Mav examined the other boot, noting wings etched into the leather on the sides. “They fly?” he confirmed without looking up. Angels, why didn’t I consider something like this before? If he’d had these, he might-

“Sure do, as long as you’re in ‘em. Not forever, mind you. They can go steady about four hours, but take up to two days to fully recharge. Of course, you don’t have to wait for them to fill up all the way to use them again.”

I was going to give most of Jakobsmann’s money to the warrens, but this is a hard deal to pass up. Making a decision, Mav withdrew his coin purse.

“How much?” he checked again, hoping the cobbler wouldn’t inflate the price. His thick lips pursing under the mustache, he considered Mav for another long moment before he quoted a price. Exorbitant for a pair of boots, but a Tin Street bargain for an enchantment of this quality.

“Done,” Mav agreed, counting out coins, conscious to hide the flash of platinum even behind the curtain. Most shopkeepers outfitted their stalls with enchantments to prevent muggings and theft, but those wouldn’t protect them on their way home with a full coinpurse.

“Are you done yet?” Lilla complained almost on cue, peering behind the curtain, tiring of shoe shopping faster than any woman Mav knew. How Aunt Melo could spend so much time and money on something so frivolous still eluded him. Rix, these boots cost less than that couture designer crap she buys, and they’re actually good for something!

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Viktorr,” the clerk bid, accepting the coins and offering Mav a vigorous handshake. Focused on keeping a firm grip, he forced the rush of emotions triggered by the recognition back under the surface. “He’s all yours, miss.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, sitting down again and changing his other boot as well.

Lilla laughed with exaggerated villainous intent. “So, you’re all mine now, huh? What to do with you first?”

Angels, not you too, he winced, sighing aloud and ignoring the hunger pang growing in his stomach. “How about you trade me in for a younger model?” She waved off his remark, dissatisfied with his self-deprecation.

“I hope Nadine is okay,” she added with a serious tone. Mav sighed again. Lunch would have to wait. Damn goat.

Once Mav secured the leftover boot in his satchel, careful not to get dirt on the evidence, they set off toward Nadine’s again. Before long they crossed Foundry Street and arrived in front of a modest forge and shopfront, set into the street-level layer of a large stacked building in a working-class Precinct Six neighborhood. Mav knew this very lane, in fact, and tucked the forge’s location away in his mental map.

Lilla pointed to the side of the storefront, but inside, the hammering stopped abruptly. They’d been spotted. Sure enough, a few moments later a hulking human emerged from the shadows of the shop’s threshold, wiping his stained hands on an already-blackened rag.

“Lilla,” he greeted, reserved and gruff. Mav could see the family resemblance in his round cheeks and prominent lips. “Nadine’s inside, recovering.”

Mr. Stoutheart’s gaze fastened on Mav like a nut on a bolt, and the soldier felt himself stand a little straighter. Lilla nodded and walked toward the side of the forge where she pointed before. Mav started to follow. As expected, an ashy, meaty hand blocked his path.

Tightening his jaw to help hold his tongue, he stopped and faced Nadine’s father.

“You Mav?” Mr. Stoutheart taunted, inspecting him from head to toe - then his expression twisted from a stern taskmaster to wry humor.

“Yeah, you’re that skyjek’s kid alright, no doubt about that.” He checked passersby on the street and then shook his head.

Twice in one day. When it rains, it pours, I guess... Meeting the blacksmith’s gaze, he shrugged one shoulder. Mav knew being flippant wouldn’t endear him to Nadine’s old man, but he didn’t want her father’s approval, either.

Mr. Stoutheart snorted and curled his lip, squinting one eye as he sized up the soldier. Mav knew that look. He has me pegged. ‘Arrogant hotshot,’ or worse. Probably worse.

‘Eh, who gives a rat’s ass what those decheads think?’ came Splatz’ reassuring mantra in his mind.

“I understand you were involved with Nadine’s accident today.” Her father’s voice darkened as he took a half-step towards Mav.

“She says you helped her.” He paused again, doubt filling the silence. “Just watch your step ‘round my daughter. My furnace gets hot enough to burn bodies.”

After failing to read any sarcasm in the older man’s eyes, Mav lowered his head and nodded with respect.

He cares about his little girl, and they all had a scare today. Can’t fault him for being a good father. Nadine’s lucky, having a family that cares so much.

“Yessir. You’ve raised a capable young woman,” he returned, stopping short of saluting, and Mr. Stoutheart smiled.

“More than one! Now head on up, I’m sure they’re waiting for you.” With that, Mr. Stoutheart returned to his shop. Mav followed Lilla’s footsteps, and trepidation filled his own.

Do I need to see Nadine? Lilla will be fine on her own.

‘What, you chicken?’ Pushing his inner Brutus aside, he bounded up the steps around the corner, giving the tidy door four smart raps. Inside, several female voices stopped chattering. He braced himself.

An older, rounder version of Nadine opened the door, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Come in, Mav! Lilla said you’d be right up,” she bid, opening the door and stepping back to let him pass. Mav walked into a homey, care-worn kitchen. From the smell of it, Mrs. Stoutheart already started cooking dinner. Two girls just hairs younger than Nadine darted through the kitchen, shrieking as one chased the other. Doors slammed in the small dwelling, and Mrs. Stoutheart shook her head at the familiar cacophony of a full nest.

Her fond smile shook the cold void where Mav kept his heart. Swallowing hard, he stared at the stove and pretended the lump in his throat was just hunger.

“They’re in the living room, through there,” she motioned to a doorway. “You hungry?”

He shook his head, not trusting himself to open his mouth without bursting into tears. He didn’t remember his mother, but the little he’d heard about Isa Bella Vikktor made him imagine she and Mrs. Stoutheart shared many qualities.

He looked back to the street, wishing he could test out his new flying boots. Instead, he forced himself through the doorway and rearranged his face into a smile, even if he didn’t feel like smiling.

I don’t belong here.

He stepped through the door, met by many more faces than he anticipated. They can’t all be sisters. Aunts, cousins perhaps? Lilla and Nadine sat surrounded by nigh-on a dozen women, all with different variations of Nadine’s familiar round face, brown eyes, and dark, curly hair. Nadine bit her lower lip and blushed as the other women motioned and made room for Mav to join them. One of them, in a style reminiscent of goblin aunties, forced him onto the couch when he got close by grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the cushion next to her.

“You must be Mav,” she greeted with a wolfish grin. He turned to Nadine for help, who smiled and ignored him, conversing with Lilla instead.

“I am,” he surrendered, wondering what else they’d heard about him.

“Nadine’s told us so much about you, it’s so nice we can finally meet you!” exclaimed another aunt. Mav’s instincts screamed: Run.

“All good, I hope,” he choked. He hated resorting to pleasantries, but didn’t know what else to say.

From the doorway, Mrs. Stoutheart asked for help in the kitchen. The women on the couch stood up to join her, leaving him alone. Heaving a sigh of relief, he sprawled across the cushions before Nadine could join him. The color was back in her cheeks; she looked a lot better now, compared to her delicate condition at death’s door this morning.

“Took you long enough,” Lilla chided with a childish melody. “I thought you were right behind me. Aren’t you skyknights supposed to be all action? Stop keeping me waiting!”

He shrugged and withdrew the pouch containing Nadine’s share of Jakobsmann’s loot, tossing it to her. Puzzled, she caught the small bag with a deft swipe and peered inside. Her eyes widened.

“What did I miss?” she squeaked, and Lilla launched into a riveting retelling of the morning’s events, with a few minor embellishments.

12 Seleszeni 10.076 Z.C., Early Evening

“Slow down, Rocman!” Lilla called behind him. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, Mav snorted and shook his head, waiting for the vedalken to catch up.

“About time,” he spat. Lilla frowned at him.

“What’s gotten into you?”

The walls of the oppressive family home no longer closing in on him, he studied the skies above as the sun settled toward the horizon. Overhead, an angel soared, flanked by two pairs of skyknights. Mav closed his eyes, praying to her for peace and strength, and thanking her for guarding Ravnica.

“Mav?” Lilla asked, poking his bandage with a bony fingertip. He swore and batted her hand away from his wound.

“You seriously need to stop that,” he bit. Lilla’s face crumpled in confusion and pain at his tone.

“Damnit all Lilla, remember those guys with spears?” he contested, sighing, the fight gone from his tone. He felt battered and drained, and couldn’t tell whether his body or soul needed mending first.

Her eyes lit up with common understanding. “Sorry,” she muttered, reaching out to pat his shoulder, then thinking better of it.

I just wanna get back to the barracks and sleep until reverie, he dreamed, closing his eyes again. But if something happens to Nadine… He couldn’t let tending to his own weakness come before his friend’s safety.

“I want to make sure Rigoleto doesn’t show his ugly face around here tonight,” he explained, realizing Lilla might abandon him when he noticed her calculating look. Crap, I was counting on her drikshit to keep me awake.

“Of course, if you wanna go back to Sunhome, that’s fine. I can stay here and watch over Nadine myself,” Mav taunted. Lilla paused, then nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s a good idea. Should we go back in and ask to-”

“No!” he interrupted. “No, I was thinking we could get a better vantage from the rooftops. And it’d be better if she didn’t know we were watching, more natural in case Rigoleto is plannin’ somethin’...” he half-lied, clearing his throat.

“Uh-huh.”