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 levitación 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 Capitán 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 Álvalar, 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, “touché.”

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 Señora 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–

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: Küo 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 – 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 – how unlike the terrifying beast that tried to attack Huǒ-Hè 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.

“Elé said I can take a break from watching over the stalls. Now he and Elá 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 mamá 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 niñita?” 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 papá 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 elé.”

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 – a feature he had a majority of the time – 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. Elé 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 – my type of party.”

Although his answer was the same as before – unsure – 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 – 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–

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.”

“¿Qué?” 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, Álvalar?”

“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 mamá 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 Kéké confectionary he had grew up with. Navasarian deserts tend to be filled with sugar while traditional Kéké 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 mamá 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 – 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 – he noticed the son of Palenque Chief Juvenal and Óroya 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 Óro 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 Tío 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.

“… Álvalar 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 Tío! Nothing!

His ears were lying to him. This is a sick and disrespectful joke. This just had to be…

Right?

Right?!