Watching Misu being spoiled by all those mouthwatering Kéké 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 – Alvalar’s absolute favorite – 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 – 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 – 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 niñita?”

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 Anáruu – 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, Anáruu diligently tried his best to maintain peace and order in the Agni region during the tumultuous, civil war torn era of the 46th Weapon Wielder of Navasar, Princess Inanna – 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, mámá? 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 Elé trying to ease her away from that, being that the sweets are merchandise and all. Granny Kini has been feeding her some old Navi-Kéké 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 Óroya 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 Elá 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 – homework, tests, recess games, classmates they “like-like”, teachers they think of as “mean” – 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 mámá 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.

ͼ

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 – 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–

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, Señora…?”

“Huǒ-Hè. Huǒ-Hè Zhuó,” 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.

Huǒ-Hè grabbed his hand and the birthday boy promptly pulled the mercenary woman up. “It was my fault, really,” Huǒ-Hè 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, Huǒ-Hè 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 pasó?” 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 Ortún 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 Huǒ-Hè 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–

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 Ortún 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 Ortún 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 Huǒ-Hè 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-Huǒ-Hè?” 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 Huǒ-Hè 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.”

Huǒ-Hè 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? Huǒ-Hè 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 – 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 – a day that comes every who-knows-when – 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–

“Don’t go calling me navito. Yo no soy un navito, and I’m especially not your navito anymore, Capitán 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 – consisting of a loose undershirt, trousers and boots – 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 Capitán 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.

Capitán 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 bohío where we used to have all sorts of fun together? I do. I can hear the bohío, 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 – a palenque – 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 Capitán 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 – ultimately missing the its intended target – 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 – a sense of power – 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, tú 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 – 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, Álvalar! 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 – 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 – everything that his father said was completely true. Everyone said it. Alvalar couldn’t deny it, but gaining confidence is easier said than done.