Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I think I’m ready to tell you,” Fabian said.

He glanced at Riz, who had been curled up on the bed next to him and now looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Riz said carefully, scooting himself next to Fabian and resting his head on his shoulder. “I can wait. Like I said, I—”

“—trust me, yeah, I know. But I want to tell you, and I think I’m ready now.”

Riz smiled. “Okay.”

Fabian let out a long breath. “Okay, well… it’s kind of a long story. Like a very, very long story.”

Riz stared at him expectantly.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” Fabian leaned back and settled in. “My name’s Fabian Seacaster.”

Riz snorted and thwacked Fabian with his tail. “Be serious.”

“I am serious! My name’s Fabian Seacaster, and I’m nineteen years old. And I guess this story begins… one ordinary day, long, long ago.”

- - -

“Fabian, you can’t skip school again, you just can’t,” Mazey Phaedra pleaded. The twelve-year-old minotaur resisted as her eleven-year-old half-elf friend pulled at her. “If the teacher finds out, he’s going to expel you! He’s going to be so disappointed in me if you don’t come with me right now!”

Fabian ignored her protests and pulled harder. “Come on, Mazey, I just want to see the toy shop! They have the new model ships today!”

“Who cares about model ships?” Mazey tugged with remarkable strength for her age back at Fabian, causing him to stumble for just a moment. “I’m trying to save our butts!”

“We’re not learning anything interesting at school, anyway! Come on, my mom gave me some money this morning.”

“Lunch money!” she retorted. “And why do you have to drag me along, then?”

Fabian huffed and let go of her arm. “Fine! You don’t have to come!”

Mazey frowned as she rubbed at her wrist. “Please don’t ditch school.”

“I’m ditching! You can’t stop me!” He walked backwards down the sidewalk.

“Fabian!”

“Bye!” He waved a bundle of gold pieces in the air and took off running toward the toy shop down the street.

- - -

Just a few hours later, Mazey was accompanying him back to his house.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” she muttered.

“Hey, I didn’t know they would be so expensive! Or that the stupid old dude at the counter would think to call the school!”

“You’re eleven, Fabian, of course he thought it was weird that you were out of school!”

Fabian pouted. “Whatever. Come on, I’ll bet my papa’s got some really sick stuff we could sell for more gold!”

“Fabian, no!”

She chased him all the way back to Seacaster Manor. As usual, the house was essentially empty as Fabian bounded up the stairs in excitement. Mazey trailed behind with uncertainty as he snuck his way into his father’s quarters.

“This is a stupid idea, Fabian,” she hissed under her breath.

“So don’t follow me!” he whispered back.

She crossed her arms. “I’m staying out here.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He carefully made his way into the room, immediately scurrying around and opening doors, drawers, cabinets, closets, searching for secret compartments where there could possibly be some treasures. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at finding secret compartments. He huffed when he came up with nothing of value, throwing aside a cheap-looking ring and about to give up when he heard it thunk against the blankets behind him.

He turned around. That was weird. Blankets don’t thunk. Sure enough, upon investigating, he found a strange-looking lump underneath the sheets. Carefully, he pulled aside the blanket.

On the mattress lay an ornate-looking arquebus, glowing and pulsing with arcane energy. Fabian’s eyes widened. Now this was worth something. He slowly reached out to pick it up.

The moment he touched it, he promptly blacked out.

- - -

Fabian had no idea what just happened. One moment, he was carefully reaching towards the mysterious gun, and the next, he had been pulled out of consciousness and into a strange bluish void. He looked around.

“Hello?” he called out cautiously. “Anyone there?”

Silence. Then, from behind him:

“Can you… hear me?”

He whirled around.

A handsome goblin man with a thin mustache faced him, wearing a sharp suit and clutching an arquebus identical to the one Fabian just touched. His brows were furrowed and his face suspicious as his hand tightened around the gun which was, thankfully, not pointed at Fabian.

Fabian yelped and stumbled backwards. “Um. Hi.”

The man’s hand relaxed just a bit. “Oh. You’re just a kid.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Fabian looked around. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“I don’t know where we are,” the man said slowly, “but you shouldn’t be here. Unless… you’re also… dead.”

Fabian flinched. “Um, what? No. I’m not dead. I don’t think.” Then his eyes widened with panic. “Wait, am I dead? Did I just die? Did touching that stupid gun kill me?!”

“Okay, wait, no, no, I think you’d remember if you were… I don’t think you’re dead,” the man quickly assured Fabian. “For one, you don’t have… well, these.”

He gestured behind him, and Fabian did a double take. He hadn’t noticed the man’s feathered angel wings and glowing halo. Now that he took a closer look, he definitely had sort of a translucent ethereal glow.

“Wait, so… are you dead?” Fabian asked slowly.

The man smiled softly. “Yeah. I am.” He held out a hand. “Pok. Nice to meet you.”

Fabian slowly reached out to shake it, but his hand went right through Pok’s. The man just shook his head and sighed like he expected that. “Uh, I’m Fabian. Fabian Aramais Seacaster.”

Pok nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“Okay, wait, so… you’re dead? Like, full-dead?”

“Full-dead,” Pok confirmed, a little wistfully.

“Then… why am I here?”

Pok hesitated. “Not sure. You mentioned touching a gun?” He lifted his arquebus. “Did it look something like this?”

Fabian nodded quickly. “Yeah. Is it— was it yours?”

“Yes, it was. Fascinating.” Pok seemed to be thinking a mile a minute, his words speeding up. “Someone must have recovered it. I think my soul was tied to it.”

“Tied to it?”

“Yes, but… if you touched it… and I’m seeing you now, I think that means something. Some kind of possession.”

Fabian’s eyes widened. “You’re possessing me?”

“No, no, nothing like that, just… I put a complicated spell on my arquebus a while back. It was supposed to stop my enemies from taking it and to send a message to my loved ones after I died. But… I don’t think it worked properly since—and don’t take this in offense—you’re clearly not either of those.”

“Okay…?”

“Interesting.” Pok stepped forward. “Okay. You need to wake up.”

“Uh—what?”

“Wake up,” Pok repeated, “and you’ll be able to see me, got it?”

“I—okay. How?”

He smiled. “Like this.” 

He reached forward, hovering his incorporeal hands over Fabian’s shoulders, and wrapped his wings around him. Everything became blindingly white.

- - -

Fabian gasped back to consciousness in his own bed, Mazey and his father standing next to him. 

“He’s awake!” Mazey grabbed Fabian’s shoulders and shook him. “Fabian, I told you that was a stupid idea.”

“What? What happened?” Fabian looked around, then froze when he caught sight of the figure standing at the foot of his bed. The goblin-angel-man from his dream stood there, grinning.

Fabian yelped out loud and scrambled back in bed.

“Hey,” the angel said in greeting.

“Fabian, what are you looking at?” asked Mazey in confusion.

“I-I— um—” Fabian looked from Mazey to his father to Pok in conclusion. “What— you— you can’t see him?” He gestured wildly at the foot of his bed. Mazey glanced over and turned back to Fabian, clearly bewildered.

Bill Seacaster just laughed heartily. “Now, what are you on about, me boy?”

“I— but— he’s—”

“You’re the only one who can see me,” Pok said gently.

“Who are you?” Fabian demanded.

“Who are you talking to?” Mazey asked.

Bill tsked while he shook his head, waving his finger at Fabian. “If this is some way of skipping out on school again, my darling boy, I’m afraid—”

“I’m not lying!” Fabian flopped back onto the bed. Pok sighed and floated next to him.

“They’re not going to believe you.”

“Come on, boy. Up on your feet, now.” Bill hoisted Fabian up. “This fine young lassie found you collapsed on the floor in my quarters! Now whatever were you doing there?”

Fabian glanced apprehensively at Pok before turning back to Bill. “Nothing, papa.”

Bill narrowed his eye at Fabian for a moment before shrugging. “Very well. You may go now… what was your name again?”

“Mazey,” Mazey said quietly. “Captain Seacaster, is Fabian okay?”

“I’m fine,” Fabian snapped, shooting Pok a glare. The goblin simply shrugged at him with a light smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You hear that, lass? The boy is fine!” Bill laughed and clapped Fabian on the back.

- - -

Fabian finally got time alone with Pok after a light-hearted berating from his father and an airy acknowledgement from his mother. “Okay, so… again, who exactly are you?”

Pok smiled, leaning back as if he were sitting in a chair rather than floating in midair. “Like I said, I’m Pok.” He twirled a finger towards Fabian’s chest. “I live in your heart now.”

“And why are you a ghost no one but me can see that has to stick with me at all times?”

Pok shrugged. “The spell on my arquebus went wrong, I suppose. And I’m not a ghost.”

“Sure. You’re a dead, spectral figure, but not a ghost.”

Pok scoffed.

“So… why’d you have a curse on your gun?” asked Fabian.

Pok shrugged. “Reasons. Professional adventuring—anything can happen. I wanted to know my family would be okay after my death, but… I don’t actually know how well that worked out.”

Fabian blinked. “Professional what now?”

“An adventurer? Someone who, on a basic level, goes on adventures: solving mysteries, fighting battles, forming an adventuring party. You know?”

“Kind of.” Fabian knew of the term from his father’s adventures. But… “Professional? So like, you get money out of it?”

Pok raised a dark eyebrow at Fabian. “I suppose so.”

Fabian’s eyes brightened. “Can I become a professional adventurer?”

With a smirk, Pok said, “It’s not for everyone, you know. You have to be skilled, intelligent, agile, tough.”

“I’m all of those things!” Fabian insisted. “I’m Fabian Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster—of course I am!”

Pok laughed. “Kid, you’ve got spirit. Fabian, you said?”

Fabian grinned. “Yup.”

“I like you, Fabian. How about this—I’ll show you the way to a battle ring, and you can give it a go. All great adventurers start out with a few battles here and there.”

“Wait, really?” Fabian sat up straight. “You’d do that?”

“Hey, I’m stuck with you. What else am I going to do?”

Fabian practically bounced in his seat. “Awesome! Show the way!”

- - -

On the way to the ring, Pok explained the details of ranked battling. “It’s a staple of the path of professional adventuring. Those who want to become professionals take part in battles throughout their education. A set of grading battles—tournaments, competitions, bracket systems—take part each year, and adventurers get ranked. There’s all sorts of battling styles—one-on-one, triads, and full-party battles.”

The talk was fascinating, but the details were soon forgotten as Fabian stepped into the battle ring—the room was overwhelming. Rental weapons lined an entire wall, a huge fighting ring was set up in the center, and training gyms were to the right. Crammed in a corner was a self-proclaimed check-in desk. 

“I used to take my son here to watch the fights,” Pok said wistfully. “It’d been a while since we’d gone to one when I died though. I wonder how long it’s been.”

Fabian looked at Pok sympathetically. “You don’t know when you died?”

Pok shook his head, frowning. “No. It can’t have been too long ago—Elmville doesn’t look too different. But… I didn’t know many people here, and time is difficult when you’re… y’know. Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Pok shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with my death. I just miss the world I came from.” Then he gestured to the desk. “Let’s check in.”

Fabian nodded and approached the desk, where a young woman sat, scrolling on her crystal. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The woman looked up and put down her crystal. “Hi, kid. What’s up?”

Fabian glanced as inconspicuously as possible at Pok, who said, “Ask if you can watch a fight, or maybe get paired with another kid. There might not be many other young folk here, but you can certainly try.”

Fabian nodded slightly. “Um, hi, I was wondering if it was okay for me to watch a fight? Or get a partner? Maybe?”

The woman clicked a pen and held up a sign-in sheet. “No problem. Fill out your name and score for me, will you?”

“Um…” He turned to Pok again.

“What’s up?” asked the woman.

“My… score?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have a score?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Fabian confessed.

“It’s a kind of ranking system for when you’ve been in some fights,” Pok quickly explains. “You don’t have one yet since you haven’t competed anywhere before.”

The woman at the desk seemed to have caught on, because she said, “New to the battle scene?”

Fabian nodded sheepishly.

“That’s alright. Why don’t we get you set up to watch?”

“Okay.” He didn’t really know what else to say. He glanced around the room while the woman turned to her laptop and began clicking something on her keyboard. Then, he noticed, a few feet away, a small, unmistakably child-like figure wearing a fencing mask and clutching a rapier.

“Hey,” he said, “that’s a kid, right? Can I fight him?”

The woman looked up and glanced in the direction he was pointing. “Oh,” she said. “Um… that’s…”

“Please? I really want to try fighting,” he said.

The woman chewed on her lip for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, kid. Suit yourself. Go rent out a weapon.” She leaned back in her seat, grabbing her crystal again. “It’s your funeral.”

Fabian cheered and turned to Pok as he ran towards the rental wall. “Did I do good?”

Pok laughed. “Let’s get you suited to a weapon first. You ever do any kind of fighting training before?”

Fabian scanned the wall. “I do fencing with an instructor.”

“Perfect. Think you can handle a rapier?”

“Seriously?” Fabian grinned in excitement. “Awesome!” 

With Pok and the rental worker’s help, Fabian got suited up with a rapier that fit him well. “Rental isn’t great, but maybe in the future you can invest in getting yourself some weapons if you end up really liking battling.”

Fabian tested the weight of the blade. “Huh.”

“Go ahead and see if you can challenge that kid,” Pok instructed him, pointing Fabian in the direction of the still-masked figure.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Fabian waved a dismissive hand in Pok’s direction as he ran towards the other kid. Pok scoffed and shook his head as he followed along.

Fabian skidded to a stop when he came up next to the kid. “Hey! I’m Fabian, want to spar?”

The masked kid turned towards him. “Sorry?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Want to spar?” he repeated, holding up his rapier excitedly. 

The other kid was silent for a moment, then turned away. “I’m okay.”

Fabian dropped his arm in disappointment. “Please?” He glanced up at Pok. “Help me out a bit here?” he whispered.

Pok gave the kid a once over. “I need to get a read on their skill level first. You think you’re up for the fight? I’ll give you pointers while you go. As long as you listen to what I say, you should be able to get this done pretty quick and easy. 

Fabian brightened. “Really? That’s cool.” He turned back to the kid. “Please? It would be really fun?”

“I’m not really here to fight,” the kid said. “Sorry.”

Fabian frowned. “Then why are you here with weapons?” He gestured to the kid’s rapier. 

The kid let out a long sigh, then turned back to Fabian. “Okay. Fine. Let’s fight. Are you any good?”

Fabian glanced at Pok. “I’m… I guess we’ll see.”

They sighed again, shrugged, then stood up. “Fine. Let’s do this.” They twirled their blade as they stood up, nodded awkwardly at Fabian, and gestured towards an open arena. As they trailed ahead, Fabian hung back to talk to Pok.

“So… what exactly? You’re going to help me?”

“I mean, I could also just possess you. Could be fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done a spar. But for this one, I think you should try it out yourself.”

Fabian squeezed his rapier nervously. “You sure?”

“I’ll guide you every step of the way,” Pok assured him firmly.

Fabian nodded. They’d reached the arena. Fabian carefully stepped in.

“Classic one v one rules?” the masked kid asked. Now that they were standing up, Fabian noticed a thin green tail swishing behind them restlessly.

“Say yes,” Pok said.

“U-uh, yeah. Sure.” 

“Okay.” They circled the arena before finding a suitable spot. Pok guided Fabian to a spot opposite them. 

“No official timer, so we start on three. You want to count down or should I?”

“Let them do it.”

“You can— you can count,” Fabian stammered. The kid nodded and took a low stance, bouncing slightly. Fabian awkwardly stood with his sword over his shoulder.

Pok flew over to Fabian’s arm and frowned. “You look like a street brawler, kid, loosen up, or you’ll get knocked on your ass.”

“Three…”

“What? What am I supposed to do?”

“Two…”

“Feet apart. Bring your arms down, this isn’t gashbat. Relax. Sword higher. Good.”

Fabian hurriedly rushed to make the corrections.

“One.”

“Parry!” Pok said immediately, and Fabian did just that just in time to deflect his opponent’s first attack. He breathed out a sigh of relief but was quickly humbled when the masked kid recovered quickly, darted to the side, and landed a tap to his ribcage. Fabian yelped as he ducked aside. 

“Pay attention,” Pok said in his ear.

“I’m trying,” Fabian muttered, dodging another hit. “They’re fast.”

“Yes, they’re quite skilled, actually. Parry.”

The fight played out slowly at first, Fabian clumsily blocking and countering under Pok’s instruction. However, the kid soon seemed to get a grasp of Fabian’s style and began speeding things up.

“You got it,” Pok said encouragingly, as Fabian successfully avoided falling for a feint and landed a tap to the kid’s shoulder. “I’m going to control your body just a little bit, okay?”

Before Fabian could question what just a little bit even meant, he could feel small corrections being made to his stance. Immediately, he felt himself moving far more fluidly. Though he was mostly still in control, he suddenly wasn’t stumbling over his own feet anymore.

The kid was fast. They darted around and feinted so quickly that Fabian found it difficult to keep up, but under Pok’s guidance, not a single attack hit. He felt a thrill of excitement go through as he parried yet another strike.

“They’re going to lunge left next,” Pok whispered. “Ready yourself.” 

Pok’s prediction struck true—Fabian dodged to the right just in time to use his opponent’s momentum against them. 

“It’s open. Get the chest.”

Fabian obediently tapped the kid’s chest—a fatal area, had he actually stabbed—and they froze.

“Excellent,” Pok said proudly. “Nice work.”

“Did I win?” he asked under his breath.

“Yes. In preteen rules, all you have to do is land a fatal tap.” Pok grinned. “The older divisions get far bloodier.

Fabian didn’t really know what that meant or if he wanted to know. He withdrew his sword and held out a hand to shake the other kid’s. He at least knew etiquette, if not fighting techniques.

The kid seemed surprised as they slowly took his hand. “You’re good.” Their voice was awed, but seemed tinged with confusion.

Fabian smirked smugly. “Guess it’s just natural talent.”

They tilted their head curiously. “What’s your score?”

Fabian shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You don’t know your score?”

“I’ve never really fought before,” he confessed.

The kid’s hand went slack in his. “You’ve never fought before?”

Fabian withdrew his hand. “Um… yeah?”

They were silent for a long moment. Then, much, much colder: “Again.”

Fabian tensed. “What?”

“I want to go again. There’s no way.”

A small crowd had gathered around the arena to watch now. Fabian looked around nervously. “Um…”

“I challenge you to a rematch.” 

Fabian was kind of glad the kid wore a mask, because based on their tone, he could just feel the eyes shooting daggers at him. “Some help here?” he asked Pok quietly.

Pok was staring at the kid contemplatively. “Their fighting style seems familiar,” Pok mused. “Feints, trickery, light on their feet.” He turned to Fabian. “Do you want to go again? If not, I could also just full-control your body. It would be a pretty nice learning experience for you, too.”

“Could you really?” 

The angel shrugged. “I think I could. I’d like to try fighting this kid. Something about them… it would be nice to feel alive again.

Fabian glanced over at his opponent, still waiting expectantly.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll fight you.” He tried to ignore the whispers that erupted from the quickly growing crowd around the arena.

The kid nodded, then readied his stance. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Pok said.

“I’m good,” Fabian whispered.

The following sensation was possibly the weirdest Fabian had ever felt in his life. It was difficult for him to put into words, but it was as if something was pulling at the pit of its stomach, pulling it up and out, and then very forcibly pulling it back in like an elastic band that snapped. He doubled over for a moment, then when he straightened, he was no longer in his own body.

The kid was counting down. “Three… two… one.”

And just like that, Fabian felt his body jerk out from beneath him, and suddenly, all he could do was watch.

His opponent charged in immediately, rapier flashing and catching the light, but Pok was faster—Fabian felt himself effortlessly sidestep. The kid tried again, a feint and then a slash, but Fabian parried, then countered with a blow to the ribs. They stumbled back. 

The crowd was murmuring now, but the fight wasn’t anywhere near over.

The kid, still fast as hell, threw everything at Fabian—feints, dodges, thrusts—too quickly for Fabian to keep up. Clearly, though, Pok had no trouble. He blocked each attempt with almost no effort. Then, he switched to the offensive, and that’s when things truly heated up.

Each blow was precise, almost deadly, just enough to overwhelm but not far enough to hit. The kid grunted as they began to lose their touch, stumbling back with each dodge and parry they tossed out. 

Fabian felt himself slam the rapier against his opponent’s arm, knocking the blade clean out of their hands, knocking the kid to the ground. They reached out, desperately trying to grab the hilt, but Fabian’s boot came down on their wrist.

He tapped the lethal spot, and the small child’s body went limp.

Chapter Text

The room was silent for a long moment.

Then a tingly feeling began to run through Fabian’s body, as if spreading from his heart to his limbs to his head. Suddenly, he felt himself able to move again. He stumbled back, ears ringing, hands shaking, body thrumming. “Whoa,” he murmured under his breath.

Slowly, the masked kid began to sit up.

Fabian quickly stepped back toward them, reaching out a hand. “Hey— you okay?”

They were still for a moment, ignoring Fabian’s hand. Then, their shoulders began to shake. A small, muffled choked sound escapes from behind the mask.

“A-are you crying?” Fabian knelt down. “I-I’m sorry.”

Pok materialized behind him, looking sobered. “Is he—”

The kid grabbed at their mask, pulled it off, and began full-on sobbing.

Fabian bit his lip and ignored Pok’s sharp intake of breath from behind him. “H-hey, hey, I’m sorry—”

The kid looked up, and Fabian took in the face of his opponent for the first time. It was that of a small goblin boy, huge feline-like yellowish eyes, with drooped ears and curly dark green hair. Freckles were scattered across the bridge of his nose. Fabian felt himself freeze for a second at the way his eyes were clearly filled with tears.

“Go away,” he said softly.

“I’m really s—”

“Go away!” he yelled, loud, wild, feral this time. Fabian flinched away when the little goblin bared his fangs.

“I’m… sorry,” he said again, really unsure of what else he could possibly say. He began to back away. Then he stopped. “What’s your name?”

The kid was silent for a moment, save for his sniffles. Then, so softly Fabian almost missed it:

“M’name’s Riz.”

“Riz, got it.” Fabian stopped for a moment longer, swaying at the spot, before quickly running back and taking off his wristwatch. It was expensive, leather and gold, far too expensive for anything that should be given to an eleven-year-old boy, but the Seacasters were an opulent family. He gently put it in the boy’s lap.

“This is… the most valuable thing I own right now,” Fabian said quietly. “I hope you— I— here, just take it.”

Riz didn’t move. Fabian slowly backed away.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

He turned on his heel and ran out of the battle ring.

- - -

Once Fabian had stormed out of the dojo, he whirled around to the angel. 

“What— what happened? Did you see that kid? He was crying so hard!” Fabian felt tears begin to spring to his own eyes, and quickly wiped them away. “I— it was kind of fun the first time, but— but he was— he—”

Fabian cut himself off. He couldn’t even begin to articulate the weird clenching feeling he’d felt, like a fist closing over his heart, when he saw the devastated face of the little boy.

Pok was looking pale, out of it. He turned to Fabian. “Fabian, I—”

Fabian interrupted. “That was… I hate that. I don’t want to do that again. That was really, really bad.”

“Fabian—”

“I don’t need to be a professional adventurer. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“F—”

“Go away! Leave me alone!” Fabian shouted, cutting off Pok’s words. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear it at all.

He didn’t know why this one stranger’s tears hurt so much, but they did.

Pok went silent and watched Fabian for a few moments. Fabian could feel his eyes burning. He wanted to cry, but not in front of Pok. Not in front of anybody.

“Go away,” he said, echoing Riz’s words to him just a few moments prior. “Please.”

Something unreadable crossed Pok’s face. An agonizing silence followed before Pok finally said quietly, “As you wish.”

The angel disappeared, and the tears began to flow.

Little did Fabian know, he wouldn’t see Pok again for a very long time.

- - -

Sandra Lynn Faeth did not anticipate having to deal with so many crying kids today.

She had arrived at her shift for the receptionist table at the battle ring early and settled in for a day like any other. Riz, the talented little kid that often frequented with his dad, showed up as usual. Then, surprisingly enough, another little boy—one who didn’t even know his score, no less—showed up, eager to fight and singling out the only other child at the arena right away. Sandra Lynn hadn’t stopped him—sure, Riz was strong enough to beat pretty much any other kid his age, but it wasn’t really Sandra Lynn’s business to stop him.

What she did not expect when the new kid, about an hour later, ran out of the ring crying, was to glance over at the arena, only to see Elmville Battle Dojo’s newest child prodigy sitting in the middle, a puddle of tears.

She’d grown to like this kid, so she set up a sign at the desk and went over to investigate.

Turns out, this random child from who-knows-where absolutely beat the shit out of the poor boy, who wasn’t used to losing at all.

“He said he’d never battled anyone before, though,” Riz had said wetly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

She spent the rest of that day comforting the boy until his mother came to pick him up. Strangely, she didn’t see him come back in for the rest of the week. Or the rest of the month. Or at all the following summer.

She didn’t see Riz again at the battle ring, not even years later after she’d quit.

The other kid, however, she grew to know from the stories that would be whispered. Fabian Seacaster, newest one-hit-wonder child prodigy that defeated Riz Gukgak in a one v one first try, then never appeared again.

She didn’t particularly know what to make of it.

Chapter Text

Six Years Later

“Fabian!”

Fabian turned around and walked backwards, waiting for Mazey to run up and fall in step next to him. “Hey, Mazey. What’s got you looking so worried?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, Fabian, you know what you’ve done. Everyone was talking about it, I swear to the gods. Oh my gods, Mazey, did you hear what Fabian did now? Mazey, you’ve got to come save him, he’s done it now! Mazey, he’s done something real stupid this time! ” She smacked him on the shoulder with a rolled-up piece of paper.

Fabian blinked at her innocently. “But whatever could you be speaking of?”

She grabbed him tightly by the wrist and he yelped in pain. “You fucking planted a cucumber at school? How— how did you even do that?”

Fabian grinned. “Oh, so you’ve heard.” He pulled out said cucumber from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it and glared at him. “A good farmer does not reveal his secrets so easily. How’d people at your school hear, anyway?”

“Gossip travels fast. It seems I can’t escape trying to save you from your own antics even now that we don’t go to the same school.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, and he shoved back playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How’s Aguefort?”

Mazey crunched into the cucumber. “Good.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“I still think—”

“Don’t start, Mazey,” Fabian groaned. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I’m just saying, you’re so weird about adventuring. You go to a battle one time when you’re eleven, you beat one of the most well-known youth adventurers in Elmville to tears , and then you swear it off for six years?” She took another bite. “It’s weird.”

“You’ve been talking to me about this for years ,” Fabian muttered. “You have to stop. I just don’t want to do it, that’s all.”

Mazey opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but was interrupted when a door to a nearby classroom—Mazey was picking Fabian up at his school as usual—flew open as a very familiar blonde elf stumbled out, falling onto the floor.

Fabian rushed forward. “Whoa! Adaine! You okay?!”

Adaine Abernant looked up, a hand in her hair and her papers scattered all around her. Her blue eyes were narrowed in anger.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, fuming. “It’s just those guys.”

She gestured towards the classroom, and Fabian looked up and resisted the urge to groan.

Figueroth Faeth leaned against the doorframe. She waved a gloved hand at Fabian.

“Well, well, well,” she said, a laugh in her voice. “What do we have here?”

“Fig,” Fabian muttered, helping Adaine up.

“You two are friends?” she asked, pointing a finger from Fabian to Adaine. “Huh. That explains some things.”

Adaine stood up, pushed Fabian aside, and stomped back up to Fig. “The school told me I could have this room for the adventuring club! Back off!”

Fig looked behind her at her posse of punk rock teenagers, then turned back to Adaine with a smirk. “I’m sorry, but my band’s not giving way to your nerd club.”

“Adventuring isn’t even nerd stuff!” Adaine snapped. “Why do you have to take this room? There are so many other rooms!”

“Aw, because it’s funny!” She glanced at Fabian. “Although I didn’t know you were friends with pretty boy Seacaster here.”

Fabian stepped up next to Adaine protectively. Mazey stepped up to Adaine’s other side, having picked Adaine’s papers up off the ground and tucked them neatly into her bookbag.

“Fig, I don’t know what’s up with you this time, but could you please stop bothering Adaine?” Fabian insisted. “It’s getting old.”

Fig gave him a once-over. “You also defending the adventuring club? Surprising, given your history.”

Fabian’s face heated up. “You know about that?”

“I know you beat Riz Gukgak.” Fig backed away from the door and hopped up onto a desk, crossing her legs. “Impressive.”

Fabian looked away. “That was just one time when I was eleven.”

“Still, barely anyone beats that kid.” She rested her chin on her palm. “Hey, tell ya what?” She pointed at Fabian. “You, me—a spar. Classic one v one rules. What do you say?”

Adaine and Mazey both turned to Fabian. Fabian felt his blush deepen.

“I, uh…” 

“Meet by Lake Shimmerstone tomorrow at the end of school. I’ll give you ten minutes to show up. You and you only. If you win, blondie here gets her club room back.” Fig smirked. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

Fabian swallowed. How did he get himself into these messes? He glanced at Adaine, whose eyes looked so hopeful.

You’re not a true adventurer, he reminded himself. That win was just a fluke.

“I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

- - -

“Adaine. Adaine, come on.” Fabian rushed to catch up with Adaine’s quick, angry strides.

Adaine abruptly stopped and whirled around. “What the fuck, Seacaster?”

Fabian spluttered. “Adaine, look, I— I can’t. I can’t fight her.”

Adaine put her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

Fabian looked away. “I just…”

“Fabian, I don’t get you.” She jabbed a finger towards his chest. “You beat possibly one of the greatest fighters of your time. You have so much potential. And it’s fine that you don’t want to use it—your loss—but you can’t even consider helping out a friend in need? Are you so fucking obsessed with your ego that you can’t just fight to save my club?”

Fabian didn’t know how to explain to her that it wasn’t him. “I’m not that person anymore, Adaine, I’m sorry. I couldn’t save the club even if I tried.”

Adaine stared at him for a moment. Then she blinked and turned away. “I wish you would at least try.”

Fabian watched her walk away helplessly.

- - -

“That was really mean of you, you know.”

Fabian tsked and slammed the fridge shut. “Will everyone get off my back about that?”

Mazey looked hurt as she sat at Fabian’s kitchen counter. “I’m just saying. Adaine really needed you there.”

“You guys don’t get it. I can’t fight her. When I beat Riz… that was… that was a mistake. It wasn’t… I can’t do that again. I’m not that person.”

“How would you know? You haven’t picked up a sword except to look pretty since since you were eleven.”

“I just know, okay?” Fabian collapsed onto the chair next to her.

“Couldn’t you at least try to fight her? At least if you lose, it’s not her fault.”

“Why can’t Adaine just fight her herself?” Fabian muttered.

“Fig refuses to fight anyone but you,” Mazey reminded him.

He frowned, playing with an orange in his hands. “Why?”

Mazey shrugged. “How would I know? But if you ask me, I bet it has something to do with Riz.”

Fabian began to peel the orange, contemplating this. Mazey sighed and nudged his shoulder again. 

“Come on. Try it for Adaine. She’s your friend, and it would mean the world to her if you would just do her this one favor.”

Fabian stared at the orange peels and thought about a glowing arquebus up in his bedroom that was still stuffed under the bed. He’d put it there after going back to his father’s room and making sure no one would sell it or take it apart or something. It was hidden under a loose floorboard.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it all this time. But never once had he succumbed to the temptation and looked at it—touched it—again.

Try it for Adaine.

She needs you.

I wish you would at least try.

Fabian turned away. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Mazey looked up. “Really?”

Fabian avoided her gaze. “Yeah.”

Gods damn it, he was going to have to put his money where his mouth was.

- - -

Adaine chewed her fingernails and checked her watch. Nearby, Fig clicked her tongue.

“Your friend’s got three more minutes to arrive. Think he’ll make it?”

Adaine glared at her. “He’ll come. I know it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Fig leaned back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the table. “He looked pretty adamant about throwing you under the bus yesterday.

Adaine refused to answer, keeping her eyes trained on the distance, hoping against hope that Fabian would arrive.

Next to her, Mazey gripped her hand. “He told me he would come yesterday. If he goes back on his word, I swear, that boy…” 

“Two minutes,” Fig drawled.

“Oh, be quiet,” Adaine snapped.

Fig raised her hands in surrender. “Touchy.”

They waited in silence for a few more moments.

“One mi—” Fig began to say, but Mazey quickly cut across her. 

“There he is!”

And there he was indeed, jogging along the path at full speed, sword hanging at his hip, looking breathless as he pulled up to the table.

“Hey… guys…” he panted out. “Just… give me a second to breathe.”

Fig swung her legs down from the table. “Well, well, well, you decided to come after all.”

Fabian, still clutching his chest, flashed her a smile. “I did. I help my friends when they need me.” He glanced at Adaine, who gave him the slightest smile. He hoped this meant all was forgiven.

“Touching,” Fig said sarcastically. She sprang up from her seat and grabbed her bass guitar. “So! Rules! As we discussed, classic one v one. No official timer, countdown. Magic and magic items allowed. Fair?”

Fabian didn’t really know the specifics, but he nodded along.

“Alright. And one more order of business: What do I get if I win?” Fig asked, fiddling with the strings on her bass.

Fabian frowned. “You get the room.”

Fig laughed. “I already have the room.” She looked around, gaze lingering on the lake, before snapping her eyes back to Fabian, grinning wickedly. “If I win, you tell me that adventure battling is stupid and not worth it, and jump in the lake.”

“If it’s so stupid and not worth it, then why did you challenge me?” Fabian retorted.

Fig raised an eyebrow at him and snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Which wasn’t an answer at all.

Fabian sighed. “Fine. I accept the terms.”

“Excellent!” Fig smiled brightly.

Fabian stepped into the makeshift arena and readied himself. He at least remembered the basic stance Pok had taught him. The rapier—dug up last minute from the attic—was a little too heavy in his hands, but it would have to do.

Fig, hands poised with her bass, stood at the other end in a confident manner. “Ready when you are, Seacaster. You want to count down?”

“You can do it,” Fabian said. He flexed his fingers on the hilt of his blade.

“Three…”

Oh gods, he was going to embarrass himself.

“Two…”

At least now Adaine and Mazey couldn’t say he didn’t try.

“One!”

Fabian swung, and immediately he knew he made a mistake.

The weight of the sword did not seem to want to work with him. Fig sidestepped his strike easily and he stumbled forward, at least managing to use his momentum to swing around instead of fall. 

Fig was a very different opponent than Riz—she was a bard and knew some basic spells, and she wasn’t as fast, but she fought dirty. “Tired already, Seacaster? I haven’t done this in six years, either. What’s your excuse?”

Fabian stumbled back at the Cutting Words, complete with a booming power chord.

He growled, hands clenching as he swung in, trying to close the distance, but Fig calmly sidestepped every time, easily pushing him away from him with magic each time.

He thrusted in. She sidestepped and sent a Firebolt straight to his chest, and he tumbled back, barely avoiding landing on his ass.

Fig plucked a sharp note on her bass, and Fabian could feel the psychic energy pushing at him from inside his head. He powered through, forcing himself to stand up and reorient himself. 

He tried again, this time lunging from the right and getting close enough to graze her, but she gracefully twirled away, blocked the attack with the back of her guitar, and spun it like a quarterstaff, pushing him back.

Fabian clenched his fists, panting from the exertion. His stance… his form… everything was wrong, he could feel it, but he didn’t know how to correct it.

Fig tsked and strummed a minor chord, sending more psychic energy in waves to Fabian, a Dissonant Whispers hitting him hard. “Sure you’re cut out for this, my guy?”

Fabian’s arms began to shake as he stumbled back involuntarily. For a moment, he hesitated, and that was all Fig needed.

A Firebolt went straight for his stomach and knocked him back, this time fully knocking him over. The sword clattered from his hand.

Fabian coughed as Fig walked up, taking her sweet time. She didn’t even look tired.

“Wow. I thought I’d be rusty, but that wasn’t too bad,” she mused. Then she raised her bass over her head like she was going to slam it down onto Fabian’s body.

Don’t let her hit your chest, he suddenly remembered. If she hits the fatal point, she wins.

He groped hurriedly nearby, relief washing over him when he felt the hilt of the rapier. At the last possible second, he grabbed it and blocked her bass from crashing down onto him.

For a moment, both of them were pushing against each other. Fabian grunted as she slowly began to overpower him. 

He glanced over at their audience. Mazey’s eyes were impossibly wide. Adaine’s face was nervous. So, so anxious.

He had to win. For Adaine.

But if he didn’t do something now, he was just going to keep getting knocked down over and over again.

He closed his eyes, for just a moment, still resisting Fig, and reached out to a voice he hadn’t heard in six years.

Pok. Pok, please, if you’re out there… if you’re still there… please. Help me.

Nothing.

Silence.

Fig’s bass slowly inched closer to Fabian’s chest as the muscles in his arms began to burn from the effort.

Then—

A long, exasperated sigh echoed in Fabian’s head. Alright, kid. Let’s get you out of this mess.

Fabian jolted. It worked. There was no way.

His eyes flew open.

Reach into your inner strength, give one big push up, and roll out.

Fabian tensed his muscles and dug in, dug further in than he had before. He really should’ve stretched—it would be bad to get a cramp now. He was definitely going to be so sore tomorrow.

He managed to push Fig up far enough for her to lighten the pressure a little, giving Fabian just a sliver of time to roll out of the way and get up. But that sliver was all he needed.

Fig looked utterly surprised as he managed to maneuver his way out of her grapple, pulling himself shakily to his feet.

I’ll take the reins from here, kid. Let’s do this.

Fabian closed his eyes, and he felt it again, that weird sensation he hadn’t felt since his fight with Riz at the battle ring. When he opened them, he wasn’t in his own body anymore.

Fig laughed derisively, wiping at her forehead. “You don’t die easily, do you, Seacaster?”

Fabian felt his grip steady, his balance even, his feet ground. The next time Fig swung at him with his bass, he sidestepped, ducked, and swept at her leg with his sword. Fig barely avoided tripping over her own feet.

The momentum of the fight immediately shifted. Fig tried to shoot another Firebolt at Fabian, but he easily hit it out of the air and lunged in before she could craft another spell. She just barely deflected with her bass.

“Gods, Seacaster, what the hell?” she asked, ducking under another swing. 

Fabian jabbed at her chest, and she sidestepped, but he maneuvered his sword to knock the bass out of her hands. It skidded across the ground, and he thrusted towards her so she couldn’t have the chance to pick it back up. Fig gritted her teeth as she stumbled out of the way of another lunge, tail wildly swinging to help her keep her balance.

As he swung forward one last time, Fig ducked down, slid out from between his legs, and managed to swipe at and grab her guitar. As Fabian advanced, she struck a hurried chord and yelled, “Back away!”

Fabian shuddered as he was hit by a Suggestion spell, forced to back away slowly. While distracted, Fig sprang up, darted towards him, and struck him square in the chest with the butt of her bass. He froze where he was. Both teenagers simply stood there panting in exertion for a moment.

Fabian felt a weird tingly feeling wash over him, and found that he was in control of his own body again. Still partially in shock, he looked around. “Pok?” he whispered.

Nothing. No voice sounded in his head.

His breath began to slow. Had he imagined it? But then where did all that come from?

He quickly remembered where he was, and that he had just lost the bet. Sure, he’d been expecting it, but it still stung. He straightened and offered Fig a hand.

The tiefling broke out into surprised laughter as she reached out and shook it. “Holy shit, Seacaster. What did you just pull out of your ass there?”

“I— I don’t—” 

“Fabian!”

Both turned. Adaine was running over to them across the arena. “What the hell?”

That brought reality crashing back. “Oh,” he let out between breaths. “I lost.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Adaine.”

He threw down his sword and began walking towards the low barrier between them and the lake.

“Fabian, what are you doing?” Adaine ran towards him.

“A bet’s a bet,” Fig noted, shrugging. She followed him to the edge and grabbed the front of his shirt. She had to stand on her tiptoes to get up in his face, but the effect was achieved—she was still kind of terrifying. “Hey, tell you what, I’ll spare you the lake. Just say the words, that battling is stupid, and we’ll forget this ever happened, yeah?”

Fabian stared at Fig’s fiery eyes. He turned to Adaine and Mazey, two people who loved adventuring in a way he wasn’t sure he understood. He thought of the way Pok’s eyes shone as he spoke of it. People loved this shit, and he, weirdly enough, wanted to feel that.

“Let go of me,” he muttered, grabbing Fig’s hand and tearing it from the front of his shirt. Promptly, he began to shrug off his jacket.

Adaine groaned. “Fabian, don’t be stupid—”

Fig held up a hand, cutting across her: “Let him do it.” Fabian saluted at the three of them as he swung a leg over the fence.

“Fabian!” yelled Mazey.

“Get down!” Adaine cried out. “Just make a break for it, run! You don’t have to do this!”

“I’m a man of my word,” he replied, spreading his arms out grandly before swinging the other one over. “See you on the other side, my friend.”

With that, he jumped in.

- - -

Fabian sank first.

His father was a pirate. He knew what it felt like to capsize.

Still, the shock of the cold water made him shudder for a few moments before he finally relaxed.

Humanoids float to the surface. He was aware of that. He had held his breath before he jumped in, and any second now, he was going to drift onto his back and break surface.

Except it didn’t happen. 

In fact, something weird was happening. The water didn’t move like it was supposed to. He could still feel it, fluid and gentle, but it didn’t push at his body like he was a limp doll. It was almost as if he was standing on the solid ground, except that couldn’t be possible.

Fabian opened his eyes, and surprisingly enough it was easy. 

The first thing he saw before him was a well-dressed goblin man with a golden halo and glowing feathered wings.

“Pok,” Fabian said, forgetting he was underwater. Thankfully, he seemed to be able to breathe.

The angel smiled softly. “Hey, kid. Glad to see you’re okay. That was a pretty rough one, huh?”

“I—” Fabian tried to step towards Pok, but he couldn’t seem to get the hang of the physics of this weird pseudo-water pocket. “How— where have you been?”

Pok shrugged. “I live in your heart, Fabian. When you told me to leave that time… I did. I had to. But I’ve kind of still been here this whole time.”

Fabian let out a laugh of disbelief. “I really got beat up in that fight, huh?”

“You held your own pretty well.” Pok grinned. “I’m proud of you. Who were those girls?”

Fabian felt the smile drop from his face. “Um… the one we were fighting, that’s Fig. She’s, like, a punk teenager. Bullies my friend Adaine—that’s the blonde one—a lot. I was trying to fight for Adaine’s club room. If I won, she would’ve given up the room so that Adaine could host her adventuring club.”

Pok’s face softened. “Sorry about that. Thanks for calling me back, though. I did my best, but I was afraid your body was going to give out. It seems you haven’t been doing a lot of conditioning.”

Fabian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. Um. I haven’t… I haven’t really been… training. Fighting at all, really, since… since the day we beat that kid. Riz.”

The name seemed to send a jolt through Pok. “Right. Fabian. I never got to tell you. Look, kid, this’ll… this… wow , this is weird.” He blew out a breath. “Riz… is my son.”

Chapter Text

“Oh.” Fabian blinked. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Riz Gukgak.

Fabian hadn’t seen the kid in years, not since the fight. Not even outside of the battle ring. It was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. What with both he and Pok disappearing, Fabian would’ve suspected that the fight were a dream had word not got out. People began gossiping about the stories, stories of a kid who had fought only once but beat one of the best youth fighters in the country.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he wanted to be famous for, really.

But Riz and Pok… honestly, everything made a lot of sense now.

“I’m sorry,” Fabian said quietly. “You… wanted to tell me this, didn’t you? But you couldn’t.”

Pok shrugged helplessly. “There were… other things on your mind. I understand.” He studied Fabian’s face for a moment. “I missed you, kid. Only knew you less than a day but… you got spirit.”

Fabian ducked his head and smiled. “Yeah, well… thanks. It’s been a while.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Pok shook his head quickly. “Anyway, we’ve got to get you out of the water.”

“Oh. Right.” Fabian looked down at himself. “How am I…?”

“It’s better if you don’t question it.” Pok stepped towards Fabian. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Pok?”

“Hm?” 

Fabian smiled softly. “It’s… good to have you back.”

Pok grinned. “Good to be back.”

His wings wrapped around Fabian, and once more, his vision was blinded by white.

- - -

“Is he dead? Did you kill him?”

“Calm down, blondie, who’s the healer here? He’s got a pulse.”

“I am also a bard, you know. I know healing spells.”

“Nobody asked, Phaedra.”

“Come on, let’s get him up. Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Have you tried—”

“Oh, chill out, both of you. I got this.”

Suddenly, someone was aggressively patting Fabian’s cheek.

“Wake up. Wake up, Seacaster. Wakey, wakey, Fabey baby.”

Fabian groaned and pulled himself up, coughing out water. “Never call me that again,” he choked out.

His vision began to unblur as he took in Fig Faeth squatting next to him and grinning. “Got it. Didn’t think you’d actually almost drown, gods, Seacaster. Aren’t you the son of a pirate?”

Adaine patted his back. “Fabian, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” He pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. “Thanks.” He turned his gaze to Fig. “You won. Nice fight.”

Fig smirked. “Damn, you did good that second half. Where’d that come from?”

Fabian shrugged and did the lips-sealed gesture. 

Fig rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Hey— seriously, though, Fig? Thank you.”

Fig blinked. “For what? If you’re talking about this”—she waved her hands vaguely at Fabian’s soaked body—“that was blondie over here. Did some weird wizard water shit.”

“I wasn’t talking about the lake—although thanks, Adaine.”

Adaine scoffed and patted his shoulder. “No big deal. Wasn’t going to have you die on me.”

Fabian turned back to Fig. “I meant the fight. I… thank you. You… I think I needed that.” He looked past her to Pok, who hovered a few inches above the ground behind her. He smiled softly. “I got back something that matters to me a lot.”

Pok bowed his head, but Fabian could tell he was smiling.

Fig stared at him for a moment, the cheeky smirk fading slowly. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.” She abruptly stood up and dusted off her skirt. “Welp. There’s that. Fought the fight, did the thing, got the t-shirt.” She bent down and picked up her bass guitar from the ground before saluting at Fabian. “And you can keep the club room. Looks like you’ll need it.”

“Wait, what?” Fabian quickly grabbed for Mazey’s hand, and she pulled him back up to his feet. “Are you serious?”

Fig turned around and started walking away. “Yup.”

“Why’d you go through with all of that if you were just going to give me the room anyway?” Adaine asked cautiously, standing up as well. “Is this some kind of trick?”

Fig stopped walking and stood still, back still facing them.

“No trick,” she finally said. “Thank you, too, Seacaster.”

Fabian, Adaine, and Mazey stood and watched as she left, none quite sure what was going on in the tiefling’s head.

- - -

An hour later, after everything had been sorted, Fabian locked himself in his bedroom on the premise of doing homework but instead spending the time catching up with Pok. “I just can’t believe you’re here again. I was seriously starting to think I’d imagined it.”

Pok sat on the edge of his bed. “A lot’s changed, it seems.” He sighed. “Like I told you—I had no idea how long it’d been since I died. It was a real shock to find out it hadn’t actually been that long at all.” He frowned down at his hands. “I wonder how they’re doing.”

Fabian tugged on his hair sheepishly. “I… haven’t seen Riz since that day we fought him at the ring,” he mumbled. “It’s like he completely vanished.”

Pok raised his eyebrows.

“I heard that maybe he moved or something? I don’t know. It might’ve been my fault.”

“If anything,” Pok mused, “it would be my fault. Gods,” he laughed suddenly, “everything that day happened so quickly it was hard to process. I mean, I possessed someone and then accidentally beat up my own kid. It’s not exactly something they cover in parenting class.”

Fabian leaned back. “It’s been weird. People kept referring to me as this… as this kid prodigy or one-hit wonder or whatever. It’s mostly died down, but people talk, you know? And it’s weird because I didn’t actually do any of that. It’s not exactly easy to explain, you know. And I haven’t done anything since.”

Pok looked at him curiously. “No adventuring training since then? I mean, I could tell from that fight earlier, but… why?”

Fabian shrugged. “Yeah, no. I felt like it would be hard to explain the regression once I didn’t have you anymore. And also… I don’t know. I felt bad. And then I never really thought to pick it back up again.”

Pok was quiet for a minute, then said, “I’m sorry again for that day. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. It’s just… his fighting style felt familiar. I guess I could subconsciously tell it was Riz. I wanted to try sparring with him again, just once. Made me kind of… feel alive.” He shook his head quickly and waved a hand in the air. “It’s stupid. Never mind.”

“No,” Fabian said quickly, “it makes sense. I think you definitely went a little too hard on him, but… yeah. He’s your son.”

“Yeah.” Pok stared at nothing in particular for a moment. “I wish I could just talk to them again. My family. They hardly know what happened.”

Fabian made a pitying face. “I’d help you—though I’d look pretty crazy, but still—except, like I said, Riz hasn’t shown face for six years. I doubt he even lives here anymore. It’s like he disappeared—I have no idea what happened to him.”

- - -

Sklonda Gukgak flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, stressfully searching the teleportation pad terminal. The cars in front of her moved at a sluggishly slow pace, and she resisted the urge to lean on the wheel. 

And then, there he was. Her young, overdramatic teenage son, clutching his bags and looking around nervously.

Six years back, Riz had come home from a trip to the battle ring crying.

It had been his and Pok’s thing, to visit the battle ring, watch a few fights, maybe spar it out. And Riz was good— insanely talented for a kid his age. Sklonda had been skeptical about exposing the kid to competitive adventure battling so early on, but Pok was excited about it—and Riz had loved it so much.

When Pok disappeared, Riz had stopped feeling the same adrenaline-filled passion for the sport. He still wanted to watch, and fight, but his spirit was broken.

Then, it got worse. Sklonda picked her son up and found him a puddle of tears, unable to fully articulate what exactly was wrong. She comforted him, reassured him that everything was okay, that sometimes you lose a fight, and it’s not that big of a deal, but he refused to listen. Sklonda had hoped he would eventually calm down.

Instead, she had somehow found herself agreeing to a years long trip to study abroad.

“Riz,” she’d said, not understanding at all, “don’t you think this is overreacting?”

Riz had simply replied, “If I’m going to be a professional adventurer, no. I need to get better, strive to be the best. Like Dad did.”

Which was a terrifying thing for a child—a literal child—to say.

Sklonda folded, though, folded far too easily for her own taste, arranging homes for him across Solace, across Spyre, arranging programs and scholarships and training classes, all under Riz’s instruction. Knowing Riz, he would’ve found a way to go even if she’d said no. Still, Sklonda would be lying if she said she didn’t spend weeks and weeks wondering if she’d been too light.

She had her own career to focus on, to distract herself, but still. She doubted she made the right choices. In any case, here she was, about to see her son in person again for the first time in six years.

Time really flew. Sklonda rolled down the window and called her son’s name. His ears perked up when he heard her voice, gaze snapping right to her and face spreading out into a wide grin.

Six years.

- - -

“I think I’m going to join your club,” Fabian said to Adaine before first period the next day.

Adaine’s head whipped around, and she stared at him, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Fabian shrugged. “Yeah. Something about that fight yesterday…”

He glanced at Pok, before turning back to Adaine. “I remembered something really important. And I think I want to get back into it.”

Adaine’s eyes were wide. “Wait, so… you, Fabian Seacaster , notorious for fighting excellently one time and then mysteriously never showing up again, refusing to ever battle or do anything adventuring related ever again, want to join my adventuring club? Why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Fabian leaned forward and rested his cheek against his hand. “But the point is, I want to join.”

Adaine searched his face curiously. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But that means you’re going to have to help me recruit new members. Because right now, it’s literally just you and me.”

Fabian laughed. “Your club was just you?”

Adaine rolled her eyes. “I was trying to wait until I nailed down a club room before recruiting, thank you very much. No thanks to Fig.”

Fabian straightened. “Wait, why not Fig?”

“What?”

“Why don’t we just recruit Fig?”

Adaine stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! She was really good in that fight yesterday. I think.”

Pok nodded from behind Adaine. “She really was. She doesn’t seem to have done it in a while, but she has talent.”

Fabian gestured towards Pok. “See?”

Adaine furrowed her brow at him. “See what?”

Shit . “Uh… just… see— s- see that Fig is actually pretty good.”

“Fabian, she’s been making fun of me for years.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I know. But… did you see her yesterday? Something looked off at the end there. She won. Why would she let you keep the room?”

“If you’re going to say out of the goodness of her heart, I promise you, that’s not possible.”

Fabian sighed. “Come on, Adaine, how many people in this boring-ass school do you think will actually want to join your club? We should at least ask the one person we know so far 

“I wish Mazey went to our school,” Adaine grumbled.

“Mazey goes to adventuring school. She’s not going to come to our school to join an adventuring club .”

“Okay, okay, fine. Whatever. Let’s ask Fig. But she’s going to say no.”

Fabian frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. “What is up with her? Did you have any idea she knew how to fight?”

Adaine shrugged, looking confused. “Not really.” Then she straightened a little in her seat. “Wait a minute. She only wanted to fight you. You, specifically.”

“Yeah? I remember?”

“And she only brought that up after she remembered that you beat Riz.”

Fabian winced a little. “Uh-huh.”

“So what if that has something to do with it?” Adaine leaned forward conspiratorially. “Why did Fig want to fight you so bad? What history does she have with Riz?”

“I don’t think I knew that Riz knew a girl like Fig,” Pok offered, looking thoughtful, “though it is possible. He went to a youth’s class back when he was in elementary school. Though I don’t think there were any tiefling students. I might be wrong, though, memory’s fuzzy.”

Fabian snapped and grinned. “Great thinking, P— Adaine. Come with me after school.”

“What?” Adaine squinted at him. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to investigate Fig, duh.”

- - -

“Is this really necessary? It feels a bit… stalkery,” Mazey noted.

They’d dragged her along after school to investigate what Pok told Fabian was Riz’s old battle school. Fabian was now rummaging around in a cubby in one of the empty classrooms.

Adaine, who’d begrudgingly spelled the lock open, stood next to her, neither of them helping Fabian in his search at all. “That’s what I said.”

Fabian turned back to glare at them. “I’m just trying to get information. If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it.”

Adaine sighed and sat down in one of the tiny chairs clearly built for children. “Literally anything that doesn’t involve breaking into a children’s school.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about this. Why do we need to do this again?”

“Because, Mazey,” said Fabian, pulling out a beat-up old notebook from the back of the cubby, “I’m trying to help Adaine get more members for her club, and she’s being an ungrateful little shit about it.”

Mazey looked at Adaine quizzically.

Adaine rolled her eyes. “I feel like there were many other better ways to do this. What’s that you got?”

Fabian waved it around, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Come look and see.”

The girls gathered towards him to look at the book. Pok peered over his shoulder. In small, neat, bubbly handwriting that Fabian would have never attributed to the punk rock teenage tiefling he knew today, the notebook was labelled Battle Logbook with the name Figueroth Faeth scribbled underneath.

“Faeth!” Pok said suddenly, and Fabian turned to him before quickly camouflaging it stretching his neck. “Fig is Sandra Lynn’s daughter?”

“You recognize her?” Fabian asked under his breath.

“Sandra Lynn Faeth used to work at the battle ring. I remember now—her daughter was one of Riz’s classmates. They were kind of friends-ish?” Pok shook his head. “But last time I checked, Sandra Lynn’s daughter was… well. She wasn’t a tiefling.”

Fabian sucked in a breath slowly as he opened up the book and flipped through it to mask his thinking. “Fig’s daddy issues.”

“What?” Adaine looked at Fabian.

“Remember? Back when Fig had that u-turn from preppy popular elf girl to whatever she is now? It had something to do with her mom having an affair.”

Pok whistled, eyebrows raising. “Wow. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?” asked Adaine, reaching over and leafing through the book.

“Nothing,” Fabian lied. “I just remembered.” He examined one of the pages. “What is this?”

“Battle logbook,” Mazey and Pok said at the same time. Pok made an after you gesture as Mazey continued, “Basically in non-ameteur battles there are timers and note-takers and whatnot that keep track of every move in the fight for grading purposes. This seems to be Fig’s from when she went to this school.” She frowned. “How did you know it’d be here?”

Fabian glanced at Pok. “Stroke of good luck.”

“Oh, wow.” Adaine ran her finger down one of the pages. “She’s good.”

“Let me see that.” Mazey tapped on one of the pages. “Gods, she won all the time! This is nuts.” She began to flip through the pages.

“Wait!” Adaine grabbed at the book to stop her. “Go back! Look at that.” She tapped repeatedly at the header. “Riz.”

“Whoa. That’s a lot of fights against Riz. And he won every single one of these,” Mazey noted, sounding slightly awed. “That’s crazy. Look how high he scored on this one.”

Pok gave a small, proud smile.

Fabian took the book, looking through at the sheer amount of pages that were headered 1v1: Figueroth Faeth VS Riz Gukgak. Not a single one marked Fig as the winner. The logs eventually stopped about three-fourths of the way through the book, at a date from about eight years ago.

“I think this is exactly what we’re looking for,” he said, looking up at the girls with a grin.

- - -

Fabian slammed the tattered notebook down on the desk in front of Fig the next morning, making her jump in her seat. “Gods, what the fuck?” She looked up at him.

He gestured at the book. “There. I’ve solved it. I’ve solved your tragic backstory.”

“My what?” She took the fight log and squinted at it. “Where the fuck did you find this? This is from, like, seven years ago.”

“Eight years ago,” Fabian corrected.

Fig stared at him. “What is this?”

Fabian pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. “Let me paint a picture for you, Figueroth Faeth.”

Adaine sighed from behind him while Pok said under his breath with just a hint of amusement, “Oh, boy.” Fabian ignored both of them.

Fig just continued staring at him in utter confusion. “Okay?”

Fabian picked up the book and flipped through it cinematically. “Young little Fig Faeth, about… seven or eight years old, in a class especially for adventuring. So excited, so pure, so young and bright—”

Adaine coughed from behind him.

“—and so ready to learn. But what’s this? The son of one of the greatest adventurers of the modern era—”

Pok snorted. “Talk it up, Fabian, go on.”

“—is in your class. And not only that, you’re paired with him over and over again, and each time he devastatingly beats you. Isn’t that right, Fig?”

“I—”

“So your poor young heart was broken, ridden with trauma, and that’s the story of how your soul blackened and you became the little bitch you are today. How accurate am I?”

Fig rolled her eyes and snatched the book back from him. “I don’t have trauma, I was eight. Some kid beat me a few times, that kid happened to be Riz. So what?” She looked around at him and Adaine. “And what’s all this about, anyway?”

Adaine shrugged. “Beats me.”

Fabian shot her a glare before turning back to Fig. “This is about how I figured out why you left adventuring and why you’re such a bitter little shit all the time.”

“ Wow .” Fig flipped through the fight log. “Where did— where did you even find this?”

“Yeah, Fabian, where’d you find it?” Adaine repeated pointedly.

Fabian waved his hands around. “Irrelevant! The point is, Riz Gukgak broke you that day and you’ve never had the heart to battle again. Today, that changes.”

Fig tossed the book across the table. “You’re throwing things way out of proportion. Not everyone’s as dramatic as you preteen boys are. I just wasn’t feeling it, so I quit. Riz beats everyone he fights, it’s not a big deal.”

“So why’d you want to fight me?” Fabian asked, leaning forward. “Why were you so interested in fighting the only person your age who has ever beat Riz Gukgak in a fight?”

Fig stared at him. He stared back.

Finally, Fig blew out a long breath. “Okay, look. I didn’t fucking quit just because I couldn’t win against Riz, okay?” She crossed her arms and leaned back, glaring at a spot of wall behind Fabian. “I quit because I won.”

Adaine straightened. “You won against Riz?”

Fig shrugged, but she looked small. “Yeah. He used to win against me all the time. My parents went crazy about it. Then one day, I won. I was so fucking happy about it too. I swear to the gods, I was so lame. Anyway, later I found out he just let me win. He was scared my parents were going to yell at me, or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity, especially not from him.”

“So… you quit?” Fabian asked.

“Look,” Fig said, planting her arms on the table and leaning forward, “what is this? Clearly you want something from me. So just spit it out.”

Adaine pulled up a chair and sat down next to Fabian. “What my entitled friend over here is trying to say is… would you consider doing adventure battling again? Because I’d really like another member for my club. And maybe if we get three people, we could participate in triad competitions?”

Fig picked at her nails, looking slightly troubled. “I don’t know, blondie. I’m sort of rusty.”

“There’s probably nobody else in this school who knows anything about adventure battling,” Adaine said. “You’re probably one of, like, maybe five. None of us are particularly experienced, but you were good the other day. Could you maybe consider it?”

“Look. I’ve tried battling. It’s not for me.”

“You have a talent,” Adaine argued.

“If I can go back into it,” Fabian offered, “so can you.”

Fig perked up. “You’re getting back into battling? Fabian Seacaster?”

Fabian nodded.

Fig stared at them both.

Then she sighed, grabbed the fight book, and slid it across the table to Fabian. “Fine. I accept. What the fuck, right?”

Fabian caught the book. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?” She leaned back in her seat. “It’ll be a nice distraction from this dump of a school.”

Fabian and Adaine looked at each other. “Okay,” Adaine finally said. “We meet on Thursday afternoons. You know the club room.”

“Sure do,” Fig said boredly, pulling out her crystal.

“See you there, then.”

“See you.”

Adaine stood up and headed towards the classroom door. Fabian followed, but not before he looked at Fig one more time.

She was scrolling on her crystal, avoiding looking at them, but Fabian thought he caught her smiling.

- - -

Riz Gukgak hadn’t been home in six years.

The apartment was still pretty much the same, so it was like stepping into a pocket of time from long, long ago. As he sat down gingerly on the couch, his hand went into his pocket, fingers lightly brushing over one of his most precious possessions.

Sklonda was in the kitchen, preparing him some fruit.

Riz carefully pulled the gold wristwatch out of his pocket, fingers running across its edges and ridges that had become very familiar over the years. 

“What’s that?” asked Sklonda, walking in with a plate of apple slices and setting them down on the table.

Riz dropped it into his lap. “Gift from someone,” he said dismissively, taking a slice.

“Ah.” She watched him for a moment before she picked up some fruit as well. “It’s been a while since you’ve been home.”

“Yeah, well, six years is no joke.”

“You can say that again."

Riz’s fingers hovered over the watch again.

“I know what you think,” he said after a moment’s pause. “That the trip was a huge overreaction.”

Sklonda didn’t answer, but Riz knew what that meant.

“Honestly, I can’t tell you exactly why I felt like I needed it. But that fight… I don’t know. It weird. Like, it felt like… I connected to it somehow.” Riz fidgeted with his hands, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “It just feels like I need to fight him again. But I knew I wasn’t ready.”

Sklonda sighed slowly. “Look, sweetie, I trust you. You’ve been learning well all these years, and… I trust you when you say you weren’t just running away from a bad loss. Still, it’s going to be a weird adjustment.”

Riz nodded. “Thank you. And yeah. I know.” He looked up at her. “It’s good to be back.”

She smiled. “Good to have you back, honey.”

He smiled back. Then his gaze shifted back to the wristwatch in his lap. “I just can’t wait to find him again.”

He wondered, silently whether it had been enough. Whether the trip had been worth it.

Time would have to tell.

Chapter Text

Word that Riz Gukgak was back in town quickly got around Elmville. The son of the well-known adventurers Pok and Sklonda Gukgak, child prodigy, mysteriously defeated by Fabian Seacaster—it seemed everyone knew at this point about his sabbatical and how he’d finally returned to Elmville, older and faster and stronger than ever. Word on the street was, he was searching Elmville for the kid that’d beat him for the ultimate rematch, which of course was a fight anticipated by many a battle enthusiast.

It honestly seemed like the last person to know about this was the kid himself.

- - -

Adaine clapped her hands together. “Alright, you two. Our first club meeting is in session, and we need to talk triads, because they’re coming up quickly.” She pulled out three small notebooks and began to pass them out.

Fabian, sitting at a desk two rows from the front, raised his hand as she placed one in front of him.

“I’m going to explain what they are, Fabian, don’t worry.”

Fabian put his hand down, sharing a look with Pok, who sat on the table next to him, before reaching for the notebook and tucking it into his jacket pocket.

Fig, her boots kicked up on the desk in front of her, blew out a long breath. “I haven’t competed in so freaking long.”

“Then you’re on par with the rest of us,” Adaine assured her. “Fabian’s only fought three times in his life, and I’ve really only read books about it.”

Fig raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I mean, I know how to do combat spells and stuff, I’ve tried them, but I’ve never fought anybody before.”

“Why?”

Adaine shrugged. “I just never really had anyone who could battle with me before, seeing as my only friend at this school is this dunce over here.”

“Hey,” protested Fabian.

“Don’t you have a sister?” Fig pointed out.

Adaine looked away. “Why would she ever want to battle me?”

The room was silent for a second.

“Sorry,” Fig mumbled.

“It’s all good,” Adaine said airily. “The point is, I talked to the school about entering the three of us as a triad team for the upcoming school brackets, and they agreed. We’re going to be competing in about two weeks, and since none of us are particularly ready to do well, we’re going to have to train, and fast. These”—she held up her own notebook—“are our logbooks. Fortunately, most high school triad teams are pretty crap.

“But before we get anywhere, let’s talk about the rules. High school triad competitions are structured in a bracket system, with each school being paired against another. The first two rounds are simultaneous one v ones, where each member individual of the team competes with individual members of the opposing team. The school that wins the majority of the fights moves onto the next round.”

“Oh,” Fabian noted. “So if the three of us were competing, and two of us won—”

“—then you don’t have to worry about screwing up,” Fig finished.

“Exactly,” Adaine said. “The final round is a three v three, where all three members of each team are put into the same arena and made to fight. In this round, the last team standing wins, so again, even if you get tapped out, your team can still win if all three of the opposing team get tapped before all three people on your team do. We’ve honestly got a pretty good class composition for triads—wizard, bard, fighter. We’ve got spellcasting, physical fighting, and even some heals. Not as good as a cleric, but good enough. Those heals will come in helpful.”

Fig raised her hands. “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Wait,” said Fabian, “why would we need heals?”

“You’re used to preteen and ameteur fight rules,” Adaine explained. “In high school competitions, injuries are allowed. Killing is, too, actually, but not necessary or the goal. You still only need a fatal tap. But if you do die, there are clerics at every fight. They also heal you back to full health before each round.”

“I told you way back, the older divisions get bloodier,” Pok reminded him.

“Damn,” Fabian said. “So you could actually die doing this?”

Adaine shrugged. “Yeah. You’ll get revived, though.”

“You can trust battle clerics, they know how to do your job. You’ll be fine,” Pok said encouragingly.

“That would be a lot more reassuring if it wasn’t coming from a dead man,” Fabian muttered. The angel only cracked a smile in return.

“Anyway,” continued Adaine, “those are the basics. If you’ve got any other questions, ask them now, because we’ve got to get started training.”

“No questions here,” said Fig.

“Yeah, none,” Fabian agreed.

“Awesome.” Adaine, grinning with a slightly wicked edge, pulled out a large textbook and put it down on the table in front of her with a heavy-sounding banging thump. “Let’s get to work.”

- - -

“My darling boy!” roared Bill Seacaster as Fabian arrived back home to Seacaster Manor that day.

“Papa!” Fabian replied in surprise. “You’re back?” Bill had been on a six-month trip overseas for most of the year. With all that had happened in the last couple of days, Fabian hadn’t been keeping track of what day it was.

“Well, of course I’m back! It has been quite a while since I laid my eye on you, eh, boy?” Bill clapped Fabian on the back and laughed uproariously. “What a half-year! How’s your mother getting on?”

“As usual,” Fabian muttered. “In her egg, not caring about anything.”

“Well, that’s your mother for ya, ain’t that right, me boy?”

Fabian shrugged and sat down at the kitchen counter. “If you say so.” He reached for an orange. “Papa, I… I’ve decided to take up adventuring again. I— I joined my school’s competitive battle triad with my friend, Adaine.”

Fabian’s father whirled around, eye wide. “Do I be hearing you right, boy? You’re taking up adventuring again?”

Fabian nodded slowly.

“Well, of course that’s lovely, my darling boy!” Bill laughed again. “This is wonderful! I’ve always said you were more cut out for Aguefort anyway, but you so determinedly refused!”

“Okay, let’s not go overboard,” Fabian said quickly, “I just joined my high school’s battle team. No big deal.”

“But of course!” Bill pulled up a chair next to Fabian. “You’ve reminded me— I’ve got news for you, boy!”

“News, papa? Of what sort?” 

“You’ve got a visitor!” Bill patted Fabian’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Little goblin boy, came running up to the doorstep and hurriedly asking for one Fabian Seacaster just earlier this morning!”

Fabian’s fingers had frozen in the middle of peeling the orange in his hands at little goblin boy. He’d really only known there to be one young goblin in the town of Elmville. “What did you say?”

“Said he be looking for you, and wants to battle it out! I assumed he came to avenge some kind of debt you owed him or some sort like that. I told him you weren’t home, of course.”

Fabian swallowed. “Did he… did he say anything else?”

Bill slid over a grubby, folded sheet of paper. “Why, he left this little note for you.”

Fabian unfolded it carefully.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Please call me. Maybe I won’t lose again this time.

-R

“Fuck,” Fabian muttered under his breath.

“What kind of trouble have you be getting up to up to since I been gone, boy?” Bill seemed highly amused by this whole thing.

“N-nothing,” Fabian insisted, “this is from… way before. I don’t… I haven’t even seen him in years.”

“Fascinating.” Bill plucked a slice from Fabian’s orange and popped it in his mouth. “Well, a true Seacaster never backs down from a challenge to a battle, eh, me boy?”

“O-of course, papa,” Fabian said hurriedly. “I’ll… I’ll be in my room.”

He quickly excused himself from the table and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

- - -

“Why would Riz be looking for me?” Fabian demanded, pacing throughout his bedroom. He’d ripped up the note and stuffed it in his trashcan, much to Pok’s disapproval. “Better question— why was Riz looking for me at my house ? How did he know where my house was? Is he stalking me? Since when was he back in Elmville?” He tore a hand through his hair and flopped onto the bed. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Pok sat at the foot of the bed. “Call him?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Actually, I don’t. Please elaborate.”

Fabian sighed. “You do. Think, Pok. Riz wants to fight me again. He wants a rematch. He’s been gone for six years, and he shows up on my doorstep looking for a rematch. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? And— and I’m not the person he’s looking for. How am I supposed to fight him the way that I am?” He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck, do you think he’s been gone all that time just to prepare for a fucking rematch? I’m… I’m not the person he thinks I am.”

Pok moved closer to Fabian. “You’re… scared of fighting him again, aren’t you?”

Fabian waved a hand in the air. “I’m not scared, I just… it’s… he thinks I’m someone special, just like everyone else in this fucking town does, and I’m not. I can’t fight him again. He needs to understand that I was just a blip in his life and move on.”

Pok looked deeply contemplative. “I don’t think he’d ever be able to accept that, really. Riz always had a hard time moving on from anything, especially a mystery. I wonder what it was that made him want to leave for that long. Surely it wasn’t simply losing a fight.” He chuckled. “I’ll bet Sklonda must’ve taken some convincing. Riz’s mother,” he clarified, glancing over at Fabian.

Fabian nodded. “Yeah, I’ve… heard of her. Hard not to.” He looked up at Pok. “Both of you are super famous in the adventuring community at this point.”

“Wow. Really.” Pok shook his head. “A lot can change in six years.”

“I know.” Fabian fidgeted with his hands. “Including Riz. He must be so strong at this point, he was already so good six years ago.”

“And you don’t want to fight him again?”

Fabian went quiet. “I… is it bad that I kind of do?”

“Of course it’s not bad.” Pok hovered an arm over Fabian’s shoulders and Fabian imagined that he could feel it. “But you don’t feel ready.”

Fabian shook his head.

“Well, you know what the best course of action when you’re not as good as you want to be?” Pok leaned towards Fabian and grinned conspiratorially. “You practice. You get better. You, say, train as hard as you can for the high school triad tournament Adaine signed you up for. How does that sound?”

Fabian couldn’t help but grin back. “I’d say that sounds perfect. Thanks, Pok.”

“You got it, kid,” Pok replied with a wink.

- - -

Adaine spent the next two weeks rigorously training Fig and Fabian, strategizing and warning them against doing anything stupid. 

“We’re going to want to play to our strengths,” Adaine said. “Fig, I put you on deck as lead since you have the most experience. Fabian, you’re third player, and I’m second.”

“Works for me,” said Fabian.

“Fig and I will need to keep our spell slots open, since we’ll be using them for all the fights of the day,” Adaine continued. “Fabian, that’s not a problem for you, but the principle is the same—don’t tire yourself out too early on, because you’re going to have to keep going.”

Pok had also had a conversation with Fabian. “I want you to do this fight yourself, okay? I’ll give you some pointers between rounds, but no possession or instruction from me en media res, got that?”

“Yeah,” Fabian had said, “Totally. Makes sense. I honestly want to see how I’m doing as well, without your help.”

Unfortunately, this promise also meant getting his ass completely kicked by the others every time they practiced. The third time he was knocked halfway across the makeshift arena at Seacaster Manor by a tasty bass lick from Fig, she strode across and planted a combat boot on his chest before he could sit up. “Hey, are you fucking taking this seriously or not, Seacaster?”

Fabian rolled his eyes. “I’m doing my best.”

She stepped off of him, and he dusted off his shirt as he stood up. “Look, I want that championship, okay? And if we lose it because of you, then I’m not fucking around when I say I’ll throw you in the lake again.”

“Fig, can you not bully our third member, please?” Adaine asked tiredly. “No matter how incompetent he is, we still need his ass whole to qualify for the competition.”

“I feel full of love, thanks a lot, Adaine,” Fabian muttered, picking up his sword from the ground.

“Not gonna be any point in qualifying if we can’t get past the first round,” Fig snapped.

“There’s still the two of us, chill out,” Adaine said, flipping through her textbook calmly.

Fabian threw up his arms. “Can you two stop talking about me like I’m a lost cause? I’m trying my best, I’ll get my act together.”

“You’d better. It’s in two fucking days.” Fig jabbed a finger at his chest, tail swishing in irritation.

Adaine bit her lip as she closed her book.. “It is kind of soon, Fabian. Are you sure…?”

Fabian sighed and tugged on his hair. “Look, just… you two focus on not losing no matter what. I’ll figure myself out from there.”

Fig collapsed into a sitting position on the ground, legs crossed. “You two had better get your game up, because I swear to the gods if you lose me this tournament…”

“What? What did I do?” asked Adaine.

Fig waved a hand at the textbook she was clutching. “You can’t fight without your fucking book. You gotta learn to think on your feet, girl.”

Adaine looked hurt. “Why do you care about winning so bad anyway? You literally were talking about how trash battling was not two weeks ago.”

“I just… want to prove I’m a champion, alright?” Fig flicked some invisible dirt off of her skirt. “It’s stupid, but I was fucking good at battling. I’m not letting you two drag me down.”

Adaine shrugged, but she still looked contemplative. “Sure, Fig. Whatever you say.”

Fabian brushed himself off as he joined Adaine in leaning against the wall. “We’ll do our best, Fig. Really.”

Fig shrugged and strummed her bass. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

- - -

The day of the tournament, Fabian was decidedly not ready.

Fabian traced a finger along the hilt of his new sword, a gift from his father in excitement from Fabian’s announcement. It was lighter than he expected, far more balanced for his grip than the cheap one he’d been using to practice. It was a kind gesture, expected of Bill Seacaster’s gradiosity, which was nice and all, but Fabian still felt his stomach twist, disoriented as he stepped into the battle grounds, held in the gym of the hosting school.

Adaine dragged him and Fig over to look at the bracket board before the fight.

“Eight schools,” she said, gesturing to the list. “That means three rounds. Remember, two one-on-one fights, before finals—”

“A triad fight,” Fabian offered. “I remember.”

“Right!” Adaine beamed, which made Fabian kind of feel like he was a kid being called a star student by a teacher. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that.

Fig shouldered her bass. “Don’t screw up, either of you, you hear me? I’m only doing this with you guys because I want the championship.”

“We know,” Fabian said. 

Adaine scanned the bracket board again, sucking air through her teeth. “Aguefort’s here.”

Fabian perked up. “Really? You think Mazey’s here?”

“Don’t think she fights for the triad team,” Adaine said. “And she would’ve texted us.”

“Oh,” Fabian said, “true.” He wondered what Mazey would say if he saw him here, fighting again. Would she be proud? Or say ‘I told you so’?

“Aguefort is really good,” Adaine was saying, twisting and untwisting her fingers. “Don’t know if we’ll be able to win against them. Thank the gods we’re not up against them, lucky draw.”

Fig pointed at the board where Aguefort Academy was written. “We’ll be fighting them in finals.”

“If we make it that far,” Fabian added.

Fig glared at him.

“We will make it that far,” Adaine interjected confidently. “We’ve got this.”

“As long as you two keep it together.” Fig walked away from the bracket board. “C’mon, let’s get checked in.”

While Fig and Adaine went ahead, still talking as they approached the registration table, Fabian stayed back, swinging his sword lightly. “What do you think?”

Pok materialized, sitting cross-legged in midair. “What do I think about what?”

“About the competition.” He gestured to the rest of the giant gymnasium, at the large groups of scary-looking students and weapons.

“I think it’s a great learning opportunity,” Pok said lightly.

“You think I’m going to lose,” Fabian grumbled.

“I don’t, I promise. I just think you have a long way to go and a lot to learn, and you’re… about to find out where you stand.” 

“Same thing.” Fabian began to follow the girls. “Well, whatever. We’ll win. Fig and Adaine are great. And who knows, I may just win.”

- - -

Before the fights, the girls kept using Message cantrips to talk to each other and Fabian, whispering rules and pointers and insults at each other. Fabian found it extremely nerve-wracking.

He managed to hold his own against his human warlock opponent for the first minute, parrying and dodging the first few hits surprisingly well, even landing a good strike to the arm. Unfortunately, her superior stamina quickly overpowered him, and he found himself knocked to the ground after just a few rounds by a well-placed Eldritch Blast.

He stumbled out of the ring for the cleric only to see Fig watching. She’d beat her half-orc fighter in about a minute. “He was good, but I could tell he was underestimating me,” she said dismissively. “He was so predictable, I had him down with a Thunderwave almost immediately.”

They both went over to watch Adaine, whose fight lasted longer. The heat was on as she heard the announcements that they were now with one win and one loss, meaning that it depended entirely on her to win for her team to move on. Fortunately, Adaine took the pressure well—her opponent, a Wild Magic sorcerer, was strong but imprecise. Adaine took advantage of his Wild Magic surge—which sent the poor boy flying over ten feet into the air—to knock him into the ground with Magic Missle and hit him square in the chest with a Ray of Cold.

She sighed in relief when she won, straightening up only for Fig to run into the arena and grab her.

“You did it! We’re moving on!” Fig cackled and high-fived her and Fabian. “Fabian, up it up, man! We carried this time, but don’t be dead weight, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fabian muttered sarcastically.

Pok hovered next to him. “I could give you some pointers.”

Fabian blew out a long breath of air. “Yeah, that would be great.”

- - -

Round number two, Fabian was up against a barbarian guy, and he was being fucking annihilated. 

He could hear over the speakers that Fig won against her rogue opponent within her first two minutes again. A few minutes into the fight, though, a ringing had started sounding in Fabian’s ears, and he couldn’t hear anything but his own thoughts of I’m fucking screwed and the little noises of approval and—more commonly—disapproval that Pok was making while flitting about on his wings and following along with the intensity of the fight, so he had no idea how Adaine was faring against her cleric combatant.

The barbarian dude in front of him swung with his club, and Fabian yelped as he managed to avoid getting his head bashed in.

“Fabian, focus the fuck up,” came a Message to his mind in the familiar voice of Fig. “You’re not going to lose us this. I won, but Adaine lost. Come on, my guy, keep up.”

Fabian’s heart immediately sank at those words. If Adaine lost, then… the outcome entirely relied on him. He gritted his teeth as he managed to semi-successfully parry. “I’m trying. I’m sorry, Fig, I think we can’t win you this championship.”

“It’s not about me and the fucking championship!” Fig’s voice sounded exasperated. “Don’t you get it? Adaine signed us up for this under the school’s name behind administration’s back! If we don’t win this, they’re going to shut down her club!”

“What? ”

“Fabian, your left!” Pok called out. Fabian quickly dodged, trying to focus on the fight and the conversation at the same time.

“Why didn’t she tell me? ”

“She didn’t want to fucking psych you out or something, but listen—you’d better get your ass in gear or you can kiss this club goodbye. ”

Fabian cursed under his breath, groaning as he stabbed forward and missed. “Pok,” he muttered under his breath, “they’re going to shut down Adaine’s club if I lose this.”

Pok sighed. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Fabian yelped as he was knocked back and somehow managed to stay on his feet. “There’s no way I can save this fight?”

“There’s always a way,” Pok replied, “but I don’t know if you’ll be able to find it like this.”

Fabian parried and swung wildly. “Can you please help me? Adaine’ll be fucking devastated if her club shuts down.” He ducked down and swung again.

Pok was quiet for just a moment, while Fabian narrowly avoided a blow to the stomach. “I can… possess you again? I know I told you I wouldn’t, but…”

“I’m doing my best,” Fabian pleaded, “but I’m not fucking ready this time. And Adaine needs this win.”

Pok nodded solemnly. “It’s a deal then. Get ready.”

Fabian used his own body weight to push the barbarian backwards. As his opponent stumbled, he felt Pok take over his body, the strangely elastic sensation coming over him again, almost as if he were suspended in his own body.

“Make sure you watch, and feel, and learn, got it?” Pok asked in Fabian’s mind. “Don’t just follow along like a marionette, or you’ll never learn.”

“You got it,” Fabian replied telepathically, and settled in.

The next time the barbarian brought his club down, Pok-as-Fabian parried and spun out of the way effortlessly. Fabian did his best to feel the sensations through his body, as if he were actually doing them, as he spun around, feinted, and lunged to the right. Fabian could see his combatant’s face start to twist with confusion as “Fabian” seemed to improve instantly.

Fabian followed along with his body as he sidestepped, slashed, dodged and redirected with seemingly no effort. Barbarians can take hits, but they sure can’t do much if they can’t land any.

His opponent began to charge, and Fabian felt his hands flex on the handle of the sword. 

Feint, pivot, tap. 

Just as the barbarian thought he was going for an opening, he found himself slashing at air as Fabian ducked, spun, then slipped under his opponent's arm before touching the tip of his sword to the fatal zone.

Immediately, his skin tingled, and he felt Pok leave his body.

“Fabian Seacaster wins!”

“And that’s how you beat a barbarian,” Pok said, twirling his gun. “Good game, kid.”

Fabian sighed in relief. Their team was moving on to finals.

Adaine and even Fig cheered and hugged him as he left the ring, in desperate need for heals. “Dug deep, didn’t you, Seacaster?” grinned Fig.

Fabian wiped at his sweat and gratefully accepted a water bottle from Adaine. “We’re finalists,” he said in a hushed tone. “Can you believe that?”

Adaine clapped her hand to her mouth. “We’re against Aguefort.”

Fig’s smile faded just a little.

Fabian resisted the urge to choke out his water. “Oh. I forgot about that part.”

“Pfft!” Fig waved a hand in the air. “It’s just Aguefort. We could beat them. As long as Fabian keeps doing his magic.”

Fabian glanced as inconspicuously as he could at Pok.

“I’ve gotta admit, kid,” Pok said, “I don’t know about the moral implications, but it feels good to fight again. I’ve got your back, so long as you say you’re paying attention and actually learning.”

“Of course I am,” Fabian reassured.

“You are what?” asked Adaine.

Fabian spluttered. “I— I am— what I mean is, I will. I will keep, uh… keep doing whatever it was Fig said I was doing. Yeah. You got it. You can count on me.”

Adaine raised an eyebrow at him, but let it slide. “Focus in, guys. One more fight, and we got this competition in the bag.” She grinned with barely controlled excitement.

The third round arena was greater than the first two by far. Fabian looked around, as they entered, trying not to feel overwhelmed. 

“Remember, team fights, different dynamic. Coordination is key,” Adaine repeated to them telepathically as they set up in opening stance, mirroring the other team: a lanky dwarven fighter flexing his hands on a battleaxe, a halfling rogue in the back, twirling two daggers in her hands while blowing bubblegum, and a small half-elf wizard whose quarterstaff seemed multiple feet too tall for her small frame. Then again, it was better than the crystal ball Adaine kept lugging around for whatever reason. It was a wonder it hadn’t cracked yet.

“Three, two, one— begin!”

Fig went straight for it, aggressive as always, aiming a strike straight for the wizard. Fabian felt his insides elasticized as Pok took over, puppeting his body to jump in to protect Adaine from the offense. While the two of them held the front line, Fig swung her bass and shot spells ruthlessly at the tiny wizard girl, immediately knocking her to the ground. Before she could land the fatal hit, however, the rogue managed to feint out Adaine and escape before throwing a dagger, which landed with a sickening thud into Fig’s thigh. Fig hissed in pain and stumbled right into the path of a last-second Scorching Ray to the chest from the half-elf on the ground, going down.

“One down!”

Fabian wanted to turn to look at Fig, but Pok kept him focused. See how they worked together? Find ways to use each others’ strengths to supplement your own weaknesses, and vice versa. He perfectly brought Fabian’s body down to a crouch to dodge a swing from the other fighter before sweeping at the dwarves legs with his sword and knocking him off balance, giving Adaine the perfect opportunity to hit him with a Ray of Cold.

“Avenge me!” Fig called out while the cleric entered the arena with a magical shield up to drag her to the side.

“You got it!” Adaine knocked aside a spell from the other wizard before sharing a quick glance with Fabian. “Let’s get them,” she mouthed.

Fabian focused on the feel of his hands on the sword and followed along with the fluid finesse Pok matched the brute force of the other fighter with. He began to get a feel of the steps; Pok wasn’t trying to overpower them, but out-maneuver them. After a reckless swing of his axe, the other fighter just barely stumbled, and Pok didn’t hesitate for even a moment before sidestepping perfectly and tapping him out gracefully in the small of his back.

“One down!”

Adaine shot Fabian a grin.

Fig hissed out a sigh while Fabian and Adaine held steady, leaning and tilting her head back to catch her breath. 

A familiar face in the crowd of spectators caught her eye. She straightened.

She and Riz Gukgak stared at each other, both with eyes widened in recognition. A million thoughts ran through Fig’s head on how to react.

She settled for pressing her mouth into a flat line and nodding at him. He nodded back at her, stiffly. She smiled a little.

Clatter! Her attention shifted back to the fight as Fabian knocked aside one of the halfling’s daggers.

“I’m holding her off, Fabian!” Adaine yelled across the arena to him, fighting the wizard girl that had picked herself up since taking down Fig. “Get the rogue and then get over here!”

Fabian would’ve yelped if he could as the rogue’s blade came close to scraping his cheek, but Pok easily helped him shy away from it before thrusting at the halfling’s abdomen. She deftly lept away somehow while popping her bubblegum. She flicked her wrist and threw her last dagger, which nicked Fabian in the side. He felt the pain bloom but didn’t have time to react as his body was pulled forward, sword landing a fatal tap on the side of the rogue’s throat.

“Two down!”

Adaine pumped her fist distractedly while throwing up a shield. “I’ve got this one!” She thrust out her hand and hit the small half-elf square in the stomach with Ray of Sickness, and the wizard doubled over as she threw up onto the ground. 

“Three down!” boomed the announcer.

Fabian’s ears were ringing as Pok’s influence faded from his body with the usual tingle. He breathed heavily, eyes scanning the arena, almost as if expecting more, more to come, more opponents, something.

“We won,” he finally whispered, breaking the silence. Then he rushed over to grab Adaine and spun her around. “We won!”

“We did!” she said, laughing. “Fig, get up!”

“I’m coming in!” Fig didn’t even seem bitter about having been tapped out. She ran over and joined the group in a tackling hug, looking uncharacteristically happy. “We did it!”

Fabian shook Adaine by the shoulders, and she laughed. “You can keep your club!”

Adaine looked at him curiously, dropping the celebratory grin for a moment. “I what?”

Fig broke away from the hug, looking sheepish. “Oh. About that.”

Fabian whirled toward her.

“I sort of made that up,” Fig said, tone only slightly embarrassed. “The thing about losing the club. I needed you to lock in, and it seemed like you only do that when your friends are in trouble.” She shrugged a shoulder and gestured at Adaine. “Thought you might work harder if you thought Adaine needed help.”

Adaine spun around, turning on Fig as well. “You just called me by my name. You never do that.”

Fig flushed a slightly darker red. “Did I?” She looked away. “I guess you guys are kind of growing on me.”

Adaine grinned, but didn’t push it. “We’re a triad fighting group! We just won our first tournament! This is cause for celebration, don’t you think?”

Fig bounced on her heels. “Club party!”

“My treat,” Fabian said quickly. “I’ll fund everything.”

Adaine giggled. “I can’t believe it. Our first triad fight. Our first championship. This is… incredible.” She hugged them again. “Thank you guys. So much.”

“Hey, save it for the club party—I want to see how good it is before I decide to stay.” Fig winked at them.

Fabian wrinkled his nose at the feeling of warm magic. “Was that a bardic inspiration? You couldn’t have used that during the fight, Fig?”

“Trust me, you didn’t need it.” Fig playfully punched Fabian’s shoulder. “Nice locking in, Fabian. I owe you one.”

“We’re even.” Fabian offered her a fist bump. “Good work today.”

She pumped it enthusiastically. Fabian wasn’t sure he’d seen the tiefling this happy, ever. “You too.”

- - -

Pok hovered over Fabian’s shoulder. “How’d that feel?”

After the tournament and award ceremony, Fig and Adaine had left their separate ways. Fabian had opted to walk home, but he hadn’t left yet, instead finding a seat at a balcony on the second floor of the school gymnasium that overlooked the town below. 

“It was… really good,” Fabian admitted. “I see why you and Adaine like it so much. It’s… exciting, and it wasn’t even me that was fighting.”

Pok grinned. “I’m glad. And, you know, I think you have it in you. You’re going to be so good at this, I can just tell.”

Fabian felt himself warm at the compliment. “Thank you.” He leaned forward on the balcony railing. “And thank you for your help today. That was… really, really cool. I think I definitely want to get back into battling now.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Pok promised.

Fabian smiled and felt the wind blow gently on his face as he looked out at the streets below. “I’m glad I have you.” He closed his eyes. His very first time competing, and he helped his friend win the championship, and even possibly made a new friend… things were truly better than he could imagine.

His peaceful content, unfortunately, did not last very long. 

“Fabian?”

Fabian froze, immediately going rigid when he heard a hauntingly familiar voice just behind him.

A voice he hadn’t heard in six years, and somehow, he knew exactly who it was. 

He closed his eyes, sent out a silent prayer, then stood up and turned around.

He realized he had never seen Riz in normal clothes before—if ‘normal’ could be used to describe what Riz was wearing, which was a pair of smart slacks paired with a starched shirt and vest. They made him look a lot older than Fabian knew Riz to be. He noted that a shadowy sword was holstered in his belt, as well as a gun. An honest-to-goodness fucking gun. Must run in the family, he thought, remembering the magic arquebus under his bed.

And, if he allowed himself to be honest, Riz had aged well. What Fabian had remembered to be a tiny watery-eyed boy was now a tall (by goblin standards, anyway), floppy-haired teenager with fainter freckles and long fingers and glasses and large eyes that were currently narrowed and staring right at Fabian.

“Hi, Riz,” Fabian said resignedly.

Riz walked up to him briskly, face hard set in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and determination. “Why didn’t you call? Did you get my note?”

Fabian rubbed his forehead. “I, uh, didn’t… didn’t know that was from you,” he lied. “I don’t know… scammers… spam… whatever… I threw the note away. I didn’t— uh… yeah. Didn’t know it was you.”

He glanced over at Pok, who at this point would usually cut in with a sarcastic comment about how un-smooth Fabian was being. Instead, he found the angel staring intently at his son. 

It had been six years since they’d seen each other. 

“I told your father to tell you my name,” Riz said slowly, eyebrows inching towards each other. 

Fabian waved a hand in the air dismissively. “My— my papa’s a forgetful man. He’s… he’s getting older.” 

Riz nodded along slowly as if he didn’t quite believe Fabian—he probably didn’t, Fabian’s deception wasn’t shit, but he apparently couldn’t get his mouth to do words in front of Riz—but he didn’t press further. “I see. Well, I’ll give you my number now.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Uh, but, I don’t— I don’t have my crystal on me.”

Riz shrugged and pulled a ballpoint pen out of his pocket. “Do you have any paper?”

His mind shifted to the notebook Adaine had given him, still in his jacket pocket, still blank. “N-no.”

“Okay. Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Your hand?” Riz held up his own and beckoned Fabian towards him. “I’ll write my number on it.”

No way to get around this one. It was too bad Fabian didn’t have a hook hand like his father. Or maybe two. Just to be safe. Maybe he should get one, although this seemed like a drastic reason to get his hands chopped off. He resigned to reaching out his right hand. Riz grabbed it and quickly scrawled some numbers across Fabian’s palm. When he was done, he tapped it, and Fabian felt his claw scrape lightly across his hand.

“There.” Riz capped his pen and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Text me or something. And also… nice game today.”

He was watching. Fabian tried not to let that psych him out and shrugged in what he desperately hoped was a nonchalant manner. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Riz nodded curtly. “Well, um… yeah. See you.” He seemed to not be sure what to do with his hands, twisting one of them into a weird, awkward, salute-wave thing, before raking it through his hair and turning around, quickly striding away around the corner.

Fabian blinked and stood there for a good few moments, staring at the spot Riz where used to be. 

Pok finally spoke up, seeming to have unfrozen. “He’s… fifteen now.”

Fabian turned. Pok was slightly teary-eyed. Fabian had never seen the angel’s eyes water before.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Fabian said quietly. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen him too, huh?”

Pok nodded slowly, then shook his head. “It’s… fine. I’m dead. I was bound to miss him grow up. Still, I… wow.”

Fabian leaned back against the balcony railing. “He looks just like you.”

Pok smiled. “You’re a little charmer, aren’t you?” Then he jutted his chin at Fabian’s hand. “You going to call him?”

Fabian checked his hand. The numbers were a bit smudged. He could probably still make it out if he tried, but…

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Probably not.”

Pok sighed, but he came to stand next to Fabian, wings folding as he mirrored Fabian’s pose against the railing. “I won’t push you. I guess fate’ll decide when you meet him again.”

Fabian glanced at Pok and quickly amended, “I-I mean, I know he’s— he’s your son. You want to see him again. I-I guess…  I guess I could call him? Just so… you know, you can kind of… fight him through me? I guess? I don’t want to stop you from seeing your son just because I’m too much of a coward to fight him.”

“I’d never make you do that, Fabian,” Pok assured him. “It would be nice to fight Riz again, but I want you to work at your own pace, you got that?”

Fabian nodded, sighing as he turned around to lean over the edge of the balcony. “Do you think I’ll ever improve on your own?”

“I think you will. You just gotta keep trusting yourself and learning.” Pok offered Fabian a fist bump. “Good job today.”

Fabian grinned and mimed bumping him in the fist.

- - -

Mazey Phaedra, class president, was called into Professor Aguefort’s office later that day.

“Ah, Miss Phaedra!” Arthur said cheerily, welcoming her in. “Welcome, welcome. I have an assignment for you. We’re taking in a new sophomore student as a shadow in the coming week, and I’d like you to make sure he feels welcome at this school.”

Mazey furrowed her eyebrows. “This coming week, Professor? It’s spring. Shadow season was nearly six months ago.”

Arthur only grinned inscrutably. “That’s the way, my dear Miss Phaedra! Now, here’s the student’s file.”

She took it. “A sophomore, you said? Shouldn’t he have a buddy that’s his year?”

Fully ignoring her, Arthur Aguefort gestured towards the file. “Inside, you’ll find his information. I trust you more than anyone to make him feel welcome. Now, open it up! Chop, chop, my dear, we haven’t got all day.”

Mazey decided not to push further—it was usually best not to when dealing with the principal. She opened up the file and wasn’t sure whether to gasp, groan, sigh, or take out her crystal and take a picture before hurriedly texting Fabian.

“I hope,” Arthur said, eye glinting as if he knew exactly what he was doing, “you’ll treat our shadow student Riz Gukgak well.”

Mazey settled on sighing. Why was this kid everywhere?

Chapter Text

Riz tapped his fingers against his knees anxiously, checking his crystal every few seconds as he leaned against the wall on the bench overlooking the arenas of the battle ring. He sighed in frustration as the usual No New Messages screen lit up, and he tucked it shortly into his pocket.

The receptionist—a newer hire, a younger blue tiefling named Liora—approached him, and he looked up.

“Hey, Riz,” she said, sitting down. “One of the coaches wanted to see if you wanted to do an instructional battle with him.”

Riz shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said. “I… I don’t really need that right now. Um, have you seen Fabian around recently?”

Liora shook her head, face almost pitying. “Look, I mean what I said, he hasn’t fought around here in a few years now. I’ve never seen him here before.”

“He hasn’t stopped by? At all?”

“No.” She frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to fight anyone? It’s almost closing time, but you have enough time for one quick battle.”

Riz scanned the arena once more, then shook his head. “It’s… fine. I think I’ll just go now.” He leaned down to pick up his untouched weapons and the logbook he had been poring over.

As he shouldered his bag on the way out the door, he frowned deeply as he checked his crystal and found still no new messages. 

Why wasn’t he texting?

No matter. He was just going to have to find Fabian himself.

- - -

The next meeting of the Adventuring Club, Mazey dropped in after school to visit and bring news.

“Riz shadowed at Aguefort?” Fig asked shrilly. “Damn.”

“I didn’t know he was back in town,” Adaine said slowly. “But I guess I don’t keep up with the adventuring news that much."

Mazey shrugged. “I was surprised, too. Though I thought you’d react more strongly, Fabian.”

“I already knew he was back. I bumped into him after the tournament,” Fabian admitted. 

Adaine looked up. “Riz was at the tournament?”

“Oh!” Fig grabbed the desk in front of her. “I remember! I saw him watching our last fight!” She shook his head. “Bet he was staking out Aguefort’s triad team. Better tell them to watch out, Mazey, he’s going to be coming for their jobs.”

Mazey laughed. “I’ll be sure to caution them.”

“Fabian, you said Riz talked to you?” Adaine asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Fabian said sheepishly. “He, uh, gave me his crystal number.”

Fig straightened in her seat. “Ooh, spill?”

Pok chuckled from the seat next to Fabian.

Fabian couldn’t read the expressions of the girls, who had all turned to him with varying levels of curiosity, confusion, and, in Fig’s case, determined and intense fascination. He couldn’t begin to decipher what they were thinking. “Yeah. Um. He told me to call him to fight again, it’s… nothing much.”

“Did you?” asked Mazey. “Call him?”

“No, of course not.”

The girls shared a glance, which was thoroughly starting to frustrate Fabian. “What?”

Fig opened her mouth, but Adaine quickly cut over her. “I-I had something I wanted to discuss with you guys. Multiple things, actually.” She cleared her throat. “What… what would you guys think of professional adventuring?”

Fabian and Fig both perked up.

Mazey, did, too. “Oh my gods. You guys should come to Aguefort!”

“That’s kind of what I wanted to bring up,” Adaine said. “Aguefort is the best place to train adventurers and battle fighters. I was just kind of thinking if any of you guys thought you might want to pursue this further, because I think I might.” 

Fabian slowly straightened in his seat. “But… isn’t this kind of fast? We’ve only competed once.

“I know,” Adaine said slowly, “but I feel like this is kind of what I want to do in life. What am I supposed to do with the stuff we learn here if all I want to be is a wizard? If I want to adventure? At least at Aguefort, I’d get a well-rounded education to go with it.”

They were quiet for a moment, as Fig and Fabian contemplated this. Pok leaned over to Fabian and spoke up in the silence.

“You know, I think you’d be pretty good at it,” he offered. “It seems like your kind of thing, going out in the world, taking whatever comes at you. I have to admit, I can’t see you working a desk job.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows at Pok.

“Really,” he insisted. “Your fighting is far from perfect, obviously, but you’ve got the spirit of an adventurer. I’d love to see you pursue this, and I’m not just saying this from a biased position.”

Fabian thought this through for a moment, turning the idea over in his head. “Adaine,” he said out loud, “what would it be like? To transition to adventuring school?”

Mazey answered. “Actually, it’s not that bad. The system is designed to start in freshman year, but the teachers are amazing. You three would have some catching up to do, but you wouldn’t be that behind. There’s a school-wide grading tournament slash final exam in the second half of the second semester that basically serves as a shortcut to professionalism. Depending on how you and your party rank, you can graduate just from that. It’s a complicated process.”

“Huh.” Fabian fiddled with his fingers.

Fig finally spoke up. “I don’t know if I’m necessarily ready for that, but… I think I’d want to do it. Especially if it were with you all.”

Fabian looked at her curiously, and she flushed slightly.

“I’m not one to wear my heart on my sleeve,” she said quickly, avoiding his gaze, “but I’d just like to say, it’s been nice. To hang out with you guys. It’s like I actually have real friends for once.”

Fabian, Mazey, and Adaine shared a glance.

Fig waved a hand in the air dismissively as if she could dissipate the tension by waving it away. “A-anyway, um, yeah. It sounds like a cool option that maybe we could consider.”

Adaine nodded. “Cool. I’ll bring this up again later, but… another order of business—our next triad competition, which I’ve signed us up for—it’s in two weeks.”

Fig visibly tensed. “Two weeks? What day, exactly?”

“Uh…” Adaine pulled out her crystal. “The weekend?”

“Fuck.” Fig buried her face in her hands. “I have detention that day.”

Fabian turned on her. “What?”

“How do you have a detention scheduled two weeks from now?” asked Adaine incredulously.

Fig sank a little in her seat. “I, uh, kind of was messing with my teacher in class. It’s… it’s a long story, but he got me reported for inappropriate classroom behavior—”

“I don’t think I even want to know,” muttered Fabian.

“—but I managed to get my detention pushed back because of extracurriculars—really just band practice, but he doesn’t need to know that—and I don’t think he’ll let me push it back even further.” Fig drummed her fingers on her desk, frowning. “You two are going to have to find another third member.”

Adaine sighed and pulled up a chair. “Well, I was going to bring this up anyway: advertising. We should get more members to join for situations like these.” She gestured towards Fig, who only looked a little sheepish.

“Posters?” suggested Fabian. “Put them up around school, put some crystal numbers on them, y’know. You can use mine.”

Adaine nodded brightly. “I’ll design a poster. Any other ideas?”

“Start a social media account,” Mazey suggested. “That’s what we did.”

Fig slapped the table. “On it. I got you guys covered.” She sat back and started tapping on her crystal. “We could put all sorts of engagement things on it. I have so many ideas—puzzles, polls, trends—this is going to be so good.”

- - -

After school, Fabian walked home while Pok floated next to him.

“Y’know,” Fabian said, “we’ve never really talked about this, but… why are you here? Like, I know there was a crazy spell on your arquebus or something…”

“Yeah,” Pok said, frowning. “I just assumed that the spell went wrong.”

“What was it supposed to do?”

Pok shrugged. “Send a message. Curse some people. I don’t think it was supposed to preserve my soul and force me to possess a teenage boy.”

Fabian huffed a laugh at that. “But that’s exactly what I mean. Why do you think you’re here? With me? Surely I’m not the first person to touch that arquebus since you… y’know. Died.”

Pok’s frown deepened. “Huh. Strange.”

They were silent for a moment as Fabian walked, trying to come up with some kind of reasonable explanation.

“Maybe so I can see my family one last time,” Pok mused. “To spar with them, just one more time.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “You really care a lot about sparring them.”

“Adventuring is more than just a profession, you know. For some people, it’s their whole life.”

Fabian shook his head as he shouldered his backpack, thinking of Adaine’s bright-eyed expression when she said I feel like this is what I want to do in life. “Maybe.” He continued to walk. “Maybe it’s just fate,” he suggested. “Maybe you were supposed to come and guide me into becoming an adventurer.”

Pok smiled. “Maybe. Wouldn’t that be something.”

Fabian cracked a grin too. “Wouldn’t it?”

- - -

Fig rushed into the clubroom about a week later and slammed down her crystal. “Somebody’s been solving them.”

“What?” Adaine approached her and peered at the crystal screen.

“Somebody’s been solving the puzzles I put up!” Fig said excitedly. “I’ve been posting these battle strategy puzzles, and some anonymous account has been solving them! We’ve got to figure out who it is.”

Fabian took the crystal to examine the text, subtly showing it to Pok. “What do you think?” he asked under his breath.

Pok scanned the screen, then whistled appreciatively. “That’s solid.”

“Those are good solutions,” Adaine noted, echoing Pok’s sentiment. “Who is this?”

“I told you,” Fig said, looking a bit more dejected, “anonymous. I have no idea. I’m sure they go here, though, they have to. Why would anyone else follow a club account from our school?”

“Mazey,” Fabian pointed out.

“Well, okay, besides Mazey, obviously, don’t be stupid.” Fig shook her crystal. “We have to find them. This could be our third triad member.”

“Just because they solved a few puzzles, though?” Adaine’s tone was skeptical. “We don’t know if that means good practical application.”

“Well, what did you tell me when you were trying to get me to join?” Fig insisted. “There’s probably not a lot of people at this school who are into adventuring, so we’d better keep those we do find at hand, no?” She tapped on the profile of the commenter and waved it in their faces. “Come on. Help me figure out who this is. All they do is post every few months or so, about video games or life being boring and shit. Literally any high schooler ever. Any ideas?”

Fabian took the crystal and scrolled through the feed. The account was public, and it was mostly a few photos here and there, screenshots of video game achievements and photos of stuffed animals. Not a single selfie or name. He paused when he landed on a photo of a stuffed faerie dragon.

“They’re into stuffed animals,” he said. “Like, really into them.” He pointed to the caption. “Look. These are all collectors’ facts.”

“Collectors’ facts?” Adaine peered at the screen. “What does that mean?”

“Just basic stuff like name, fun facts, model—or in this case, animal—y’know. I used to collect model boats,” he added at the girls’ quizzical expressions. “Just ask Mazey, she’ll tell you.”

“So we offer them a collector’s edition of some stuffed animal,” Adaine said. “We put it on the poster, ask the mystery person to come to a meeting in exchange for it.” 

“The problem is getting our hands on one,” Fig mused. “They’re probably so expensive, and if this person is as avid a collector as these photos show, they probably aren’t looking for any commonplace stuff.”

“You forget,” Adaine interjected, grinning, “that we have a sugar friend.”

“Don’t call me that,” Fabian groaned. “And you’re rich, too, y’know.”

Adaine snorted in disbelief. “You think my parents would let me spend hundreds of gold pieces on a stuffed animal?”

“Fair point,” Fabian muttered. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Awesome!” Adaine retrieved a rolled-up piece of poster paper from her bag. “And while we’re on the subject, here’s the poster so far. I’ll update it to add the stuffed animal info, but, y’know. What do you think?”

She unrolled it, and Fabian and Fig carefully scanned it. All of the club information was written neatly and clearly. The crystal number was Fabian’s, just as he’d offered.

“This is great!” Fabian examined the calligraphy. “You know calligraphy?”

“I don’t,” Adaine admitted, “I kind of magicked it.”

Fabian tsked. “You should’ve asked me.”

“You know calligraphy?” asked Fig.

“Sure. Why not?”

Fig laughed. “Okay, fancy boy.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Fig snickered quietly. “Calligraphy.”

“What’s wrong with calligraphy?”

“Nothing’s wrong with calligraphy,” Adaine cut in. “If everything’s good with the poster, can we put it up then?”

“Fine by me.” Fig hopped out of her seat. “This sounds like a plan—buy expensive stuffed animal, bait mystery person in, bribe, profit!”

“When you put it that way,” Adaine started, but Fig interrupted.

“When I put it that way it sounds perfect. No take-backs.” She picked up the poster and waved it around. “Come on, let’s go put this up!” 

- - -

It didn’t take long. Just two days later found Fabian, Adaine, and Fig sitting at a table facing a tiny little kobold wearing a magenta hoodie and a blue backpack, a huge metal ax strapped to her back and braces on her fangs. She just generally looked like she did not want to be there.

“So… you’re the one who’s been solving the puzzles online?” asked Fig. “I love your solutions, they’re really fucking creative.”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not that hard. Most of them can be found in adventuring textbooks and magazines and stuff.”

“Oh!” Adaine, in classic nerd behavior, perked up at textbooks. “Do you read those a lot?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your name?” Fabian quickly asked, feeling that was the first thing they should get to.

Blank yellow eyes focused on him. “Mary Ann. Mary Ann Skuttle.”

“Ah.” Fabian held out a hand for a handshake. Mary Ann stared at him a few moments before slowly shaking it. “Well, Mary Ann… are you into adventuring? Adventure battling? I feel like I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“I keep to myself,” Mary Ann said simply. “And I like battling okay.”

“Do you do tournaments a lot?” probed Adaine.

“No.”

“Do you spar a lot, though?”

“Sometimes.”

Adaine glanced at the others for help.

Fig leaned forward conspiratorially. “So… of course we trust that you seem awesome enough to be the person we’re looking for, but just in case, could you demonstrate for us?”

“Demonstrate?” 

“You know. Do a trial run. A practice fight.” Fig gestured to her bass. “Want to battle one of us and prove yourself?”

Mary Ann didn’t answer for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Then, she spoke. “You said that if I came I could have a stuffed animal?”

“Oh! Yes!” Fig nudged Fabian a bit too hard. “We have it. But first, we need to make sure you’re the right person.

Mary Ann sighed. “Fine.”

“Really?” Fig stood. “Awesome! Who’d you like to fight?”

Mary Ann scrutinized each of them for a moment, then she shrugged and looked away. “Don’t care.”

Fig turned to Fabian with a grin, mouthing I love this one. Then she turned back to Mary Ann. “I’ll fight you, then, that okay with you?”

“Whatever.”

“Sick.” Fig grabbed her bass. “Let’s do this!”

- - -

The fight was held in the school gym. Fig and Mary Ann stood across from the arena. Adaine counted down for them.

“Three… two… one!” She waved a small flag in the air. “Begin!” 

Fig didn’t even stand a chance.

The moment she stepped forward to take a swing at Mary Ann, the two feet of unbothered kobold charged forward, slamming right into Fig and sending both of them flying back into the bleachers. Fig yelped as she crashed into the metal. When the dust settled, Mary Ann had a single claw on one of Fig’s fatal zones.

Fabian whistled.

“Mary Ann wins!” Adaine called out, unnecessarily.

Mary Ann stepped away so that Fig could stand up. “Is that good?”

Fig was grinning despite having had her ass kicked. “Dude! You’re amazing!”

Mary Ann shrugged. “Can I have my squishmallow now?”

“You may absolutely have your squishmallow.” Fig glanced up at Fabian from where he was watching a few rows above her collision zone. “You have it?”

Fabian nodded and dug around in his bag before producing a stuffed almiraj. “Here.”

Mary Ann gingerly took it and turned it around in her claws. “I already have this one,” she said after a few moments of scrutiny.

Fabian’s heart sank.

She shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll give it to Toy Bank.” She shouldered the axe that she didn’t even use. “Are we good now?”

“Wait,” cut in Adaine, “We have a proposition for you. See, we’re kind of hoping to compete in triad tournaments, but the problem is that we don’t have enough members. Three is enough most of the time, but sometimes we have conflicts or family stuff or…”—she glanced at Fig—“detention.”

Fig shrugged. “Guilty.”

“So,” Adaine continued, “we were wondering if you would maybe want to join our club.”

Mary Ann stared at her unreadably. Then she fixed her eyes on Fig, then Fabian.

“Sure,” she said. 

Fig pumped her fist. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sure. When’s the tournament?”

Adaine smiled in relief. “This coming weekend. We also meet a few times a week—”

“Are those required?” interrupted Mary Ann.

Adaine shrugged. “Well, no, but…”

“Okay.” Mary Ann walked over to pick up her backpack. “Anything else?”

Fabian and Adaine exchanged a glance, before looking over at Fig, who shrugged and gave them a thumbs-up. Adaine turned back to Mary Ann. “We’re all good.”

“Okay.” Mary Ann took a gadget keychain off of her bag and began to play with it. “See you guys there.” Without looking up, she turned around and walked out of the gym.

The three of them watched her go. Fabian whistled again. “She got that dog in her.”

Adaine laughed.

Fig sighed dreamily. “She’s literally so awesome. I would die for Mary Ann right now.”

“Alright, calm down with the dying and save it for the tournament,” said Adaine, “because now we’ve got a third member. Let’s do this.”

“Isn’t dying at the tournament bad?” mused Fabian. “Like, that means you lose, right?”

“Fabian, don’t undermine my segue. I’m trying.”

“Sorry.”

- - -

Mazey sighed as she flipped through some files in her dorm room. A light knock came on her door. She glanced up, looked around at her otherwise empty room, then called, “Coming!”

She rolled over in her chair to open the door. Riz stood in the doorway.

“Oh! Hi, Riz.” She smiled. “What’s up? Got any questions?”

Riz opened his mouth, then closed it. “Um… is it okay if I ask you something not related to school?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted his weight. “You’re friends with Fabian, right?”

Mazey should’ve been expecting this. She stifled a sigh. “Yeah. Fabian.” And then, because she couldn’t resist: “You have a sort of history with him, right?”

Riz nodded quickly. “Yeah. So you’ve heard.”

“So I have. So have most people, actually.”

Riz fidgeted. Mazey backed away from the doorway and gestured. “Come in.”

He obediently walked in and closed the door behind him. “Sorry to bother you,” he mumbled. “I just… wanted to know if you could tell him to please call me? I gave him my crystal number, but he won’t contact me.”

Mazey sighed. “I don’t think I could get him to if I tried. Sorry, Riz.”

“But… why?”

Mazey shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Riz looked completely bewildered, staring at his own hands in confusion.

“You don’t have to answer this, but I’m just curious,” Mazey said slowly, “but what’s up between you two? What happened? All that I know—all that anyone knows, really—is that he beat you once.”

Riz shrugged. “Yeah. He did. But it wasn’t about that. He was… crazy good. Insanely good. And his style felt… I don’t know. I felt connected to it. But I absolutely wasn’t ready. I’ve improved now, though— I really want to see what it’s like to fight him now.”

“How do you know he’ll be what you’re expecting, though?” asked Mazey cautiously.

“I…” He fidgeted with his fingers. “I don’t know. But he refuses to talk to me.”

Mazey pressed her mouth into a line. She didn’t know how much Fabian would be comfortable with her telling him. “I think,” she said slowly, “you shouldn’t get your hopes too high. He might not be exactly what you’re expecting.”

Riz shook his head. “You would know if you were there. Something about his fighting just clicked. I would give anything to feel that again.”

- - -

“Dude, that girl is strong.”

Pok looked thoughtful. “I bet she’s using some kind of magic or potion.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “Is that cheating?”

“Not under most tournament rules.”

“Huh.” Fabian toed at the floor as he walked down the hallway to the clubroom. According to Adaine, it was his day to clean it up, and before he could protest, she and Fig had taken off. “So… about this next tournament. Do you think I’m ready?”

“I think you’ve been working pretty hard. I’m proud of you.”

Fabian couldn’t help but grin. “Aw. Thanks.” He entered the dark classroom and flicked on the lights. “Come on. Let’s clean this place up.”

- - -

It took a couple of sources, but eventually Riz managed to track down the school Fabian went to, since Mazey avoided saying anything about it.

After school hours, he snuck in.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to do. There was a good chance Fabian wasn’t at school at all, and on top of that, he probably wasn’t going to find anything at all.

Still, he was an investigator at heart. He’d take anything he could find.

He stopped in his tracks when he passed a bulletin board covered in club posters, his eye catching on one in particular that advertised an Adventuring Club. His heart rate quickened when he saw the crystal number.

For more information, call: XXX-XXX-XXXX

There was no way Fabian wasn’t in the Adventuring Club. If he was lucky, he could call this number, get some information on the club, maybe even ask to get transferred to one of their members. He pulled out his crystal and began to dial as he walked down the path past the classrooms.

- - -

Fabian sighed out a breath as he closed the curtains. “Okay. Done with wiping down the tables. Think we can call it a day.” He glanced at Pok. “Wish you could help me.”

“Oh, no, what a shame,” Pok quipped.

Fabian shut the cleaning supplies in a cupboard and was about to reply when his crystal began to buzz in his pocket. Curious, he took it out. The caller ID was anonymous. He picked up the call. “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then—

“Fabian?”

Fabian blinked. “Yeah? That’s me?”

“Oh my gods.” The voice on the other end laughed incredulously. “It’s actually you. Where are you?”

Fabian frowned at the crystal. “Who is this?”

“Where are you?”

Fabian perked up when he seemed to hear the voice both on the phone and in person. He moved the phone away and looked around before slowly walking towards the curtain. His heart pounded in his ears as he reached for the fabric and pulled it open.

Riz, on the other side of the window, jumped, then lowered his crystal. Fabian made to open the window.

“Riz,” he said, hanging up on the crystal once the window was open, “What are you doing here?”

“Fabian. Hi.” Riz blinked quickly, then shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I— lost your number.”

“I wrote it on your hand.”

“It smudged.”

“Don’t lie,” sighed Pok, “you wouldn’t have called him even if you could.”

Fabian clicked his tongue and shot him a glare. 

“My bad. I’ll leave you alone.” Pok grinned and disappeared.

Fabian rolled his eyes before turning back.

“Well… why didn’t you look for me at the battle ring?” Riz demanded.

“I’ve…. been busy.” It was only a half-lie. “I have— exams, and shit, and…”

“But I was waiting for you.”

Fabian paused. “You were…”

“I was waiting for you,” Riz said quietly. “Every day. I’ve fought a lot of people since I was gone, you know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, what you would do. I’ve been waiting to fight you again.”

Fabian puffed out a breath as he raked his hand through his hair. “Look, Riz, I… I can’t fight you.”

“What?” Riz’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“I– I don’t have the time, I’m– I’m a busy man.” He laughed nervously and reached for the window to shut it. “Don’t look for me again, just… just go.” 

Riz opened his mouth to speak, still looking bewildered, but Fabian shut the window and pulled the curtain back over it before he could reply. He whirled around and banged the back against the wall, sighing.

Pok reappeared. “Well. That was something.”

“I don’t want him to be disappointed,” Fabian said quietly. “I don’t know. I just feel like… I’m absolutely not ready. And he’s going to be fucking disappointed.”

Pok sighed. “Hey, kid. You know what we do? We practice. We get better. We learn and we grow. You’ll be ready eventually.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Fabian tapped his fingers against the floor, sighing. “I hope you’re right.”

- - -

Riz stared at the closed curtains in front of him. 

“Why won’t you fight me?” he wondered out loud, even though he knew Fabian couldn’t hear him anymore. 

He stood there for a few more moments, then shook his head. Fine. If Fabian wouldn’t fight him on his own time, he’d find some other way.

He picked up his phone and dialed a different number. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.

Chapter Text

“Lighten up a little on the grip. You need to be flexible.”

Fabian loosened his grip a little. “You know, I would feel a lot better with this if it wasn’t so heavy.”

Pok shook his head. “You really need to get a better sword that’s the correct weight.”

“I’ll bet my papa’ll get me one.” Fabian stepped forward and slashed at the mannequin in front of him. He was training in one of the emptier rooms of Seacaster Manor, where Cathilda had very kindly set up some dummies for him to practice stances against. “Maybe if I really do join Aguefort, he’ll be happy enough to buy me something.”

“Classic rich teen, leeching off his parents’ money.”

Fabian raised his eyebrow as he picked the mannequin back up. “You wouldn’t buy your son quality weapons for stuff?”

Pok shrugged. “Money was always tight.”

“Oh.” Fabian rubbed his neck. “Um… sorry.”

“No, you’re alright. Just… y’know. You may want to be sensitive.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Fabian sighed as he moved to sit down against the wall. “Hey, I was thinking. Maybe I could fight on my own this time.”

Pok sat down next to him. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I want to try it on my own.”

“You sure?”

Fabian shrugged. “I’m never going to get better if all I do is follow along with what you do, no? I’d like to try independently. And I know that’s what I said last time, but… this time I want to do this myself.”

His crystal began to vibrate in his pocket. He sighed and propped the sword against a dummy. “Hold that thought.”

He picked up the call and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Fabian!” Adaine’s voice came across the phone. “Could you meet me at the Basrar’s Soda Fountain? I want to help us go over some tournament prep, since this one’s got a weird structure. I tried to get Mary Ann to come, but she’s ignoring my messages. Fig’s coming, though.”

Fabian glanced at Pok. “Yeah. Sure. I can come.”

“Cool. I just found out some new info that you might want to see. Let me know when you get there. See you!”

- - -

“First, second, third position. You know what those mean?”

Fabian wrinkled his nose as he stirred his bowl of ice cream. “Like… in ballet?”

Fig snorted.

Adaine laughed. “No. Like in battle.”

Fabian slowly shook his head.

“It’s kind of how the fighters in a triad are arranged,” said Fig. “First, also known as lead, is best, and it goes down from second and third. In bigger groups it keeps going to fourth, fifth, sixth, et cetera.” 

“It doesn’t affect your score or anything,” Adaine added, “but it’s basically so they know how to arrange you against triads for other schools.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t we do this last time?”

Fig slurped up the remains of her smoothie. “We did. I was first position, Adaine was second, you were third.”

Fabian blinked. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, the point is, I just wanted to make sure you knew this. Like, for transparency reasons. And also, since we’re swapping out Fig for Mary Ann, just checking that it’s okay to put her first position.”

“I know I’m not fighting this time,” Fig said, “but that’s a yes vote.”

“We know, you’re in love with Mary Ann,” Fabian deadpanned. “I’m fine with her being first.”

“Awesome. And I’ll be second, you third?”

“Sounds about right.”

Fig wiggled her fingers. “You could also move things around. Like if you put Fabian as first, he might get annihilated—”

“—Rude—”

“—but you and Mary Ann could easily pick out their weaker two.”

Adaine shook her head. “I don’t like mathing it like that. It makes replays and skill assessments annoying. I’d rather we just stick to the rules and stick it out.”

“Yeah,” Fabian agreed, “and plus, I want to fight someone my skill level. I want to get better, not just win.”

Fig shrugged. “Whatever you guys say goes.”

Adaine gestured at the thick binder she’d been fidgeting with throughout the conversation. “Anyway, the point being, this particular tournament releases signup information publicly.” She opened up the binder and began to leaf through it. “Since we still don’t have a sponsor teacher or coach, I kind of just signed myself up to get the information, so I have the list of everyone who’s signed up so far and what the team arrangements look like. We haven’t signed up yet, but I will tonight now that we’ve solidified positions.” She drummed her fingers on a page. “Any questions?”

“Has Aguefort signed up yet?” Fig asked, curiously tugging at the sign-up sheet.

“Weirdly, no.” Adaine frowned. “I think maybe they haven’t decided on their triad teams yet, which is weird. They usually have this stuff figured out by now. Although they are a big adventuring school, I’ll bet they have a whole bunch of triads that they cycle in and out. Either that or they’ve got some huge trick up their sleeve.”

- - -

“A shadow team, though? A fucking shadow team? Arthur Aguefort’s gone too far.”

Mazey sighed. Students had been bothering about this all day now. She rubbed her head as she turned to the jock kid—she couldn’t bother trying to remember his name, they were all blurring together at this point—who had spoken. “Look, I don’t know what Professor Aguefort is planning, but this could be a good thing. They’re not even shadows, anyway, not really. They’re pretty much confirmed students next year at this point. It’s a learning opportunity for them to get to fight for our school team.”

The elven guy seemed to be about to tear his hair out. “They don’t even go here!”

Mazey took in a deep breath. “If you’re going to complain about it, please, for the last time, complain to someone who can actually do something about it. I’m just as confused as you are, but you don’t see me bothering everyone who bothers to listen. I’d take it up with the principal if you care so much.”

On top of the random complaining students, Mazey also had to deal with Riz, who seemed incapable of making his own friends and also seemed to have accepted Mazey as a spiraling point. At least it meant she had plenty of news to get back to Fabian whenever she needed.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Riz muttered, again, rifling through the pairings sheet. “Why would Fabian play third position?”

Mazey shrugged helplessly. “Maybe the others are just better than him. Or, y’know, sometimes teams put their stronger players at the bottom of the list so their stronger two can beat the weaker two.”

Riz turned to Mazey. “Can I play third position?”

“What?” Mazey rubbed her forehead. “But you won both fights. You’re first position. Why would you want to move down?”

But she knew why. Even before he opened his mouth to answer.

“Because I want to fight him.”

Mazey looked at Riz sympathetically. “Look, I’d bring it up with Principal Aguefort. He honestly probably wouldn’t say no to it. He doesn’t really say no to anything.”

“You think I can get moved down to third?”

“Sure. Why not.” These boys and their drama. Mazey was already drafting what to update Fabian with in her mind when she remembered that she wasn’t really supposed to talk about her school’s triad team arrangements until they were out to the public. 

Riz nodded determinedly. “I got it.” Then his expression morphed into something unreadably thoughtful. “I’ll see you around, Mazey!” he called out before disappearing into the crowd of students the way he always did at the end of a conversation.

- - -

“Adaine, why?”

“I’m sorry! It’s entirely by chance, anyway!”

Mary Ann glanced up from her crystal at Fabian and Adaine tournament day. They were in their meeting section before their first round. “What happened?”

Fabian slumped down onto the bench. “We’re against Aguefort second round.”

Mary Ann squinted. “So?”

“So, they’re really fucking good and always win.”

Adaine chewed on her thumbnail. “Not always.”

Mary Ann looked unperturbed. “So we just beat them up.”

“It’s second round, anyway,” Adaine said quickly, “let’s worry about the first.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hudol.”

“Adaine’s sister goes there,” Fabian explained to Mary Ann, who simply raised her eyebrows. “Adaine would, too, except—”

“Except nothing,” Adaine interrupted. “It’s fine. I just don’t like them. Good news—or bad news, depends on how you look at it—they’re exclusively wizards.”

Mary Ann shouldered her axe. “Wizards are pusses. That’s easy.” She eyed Adaine. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Adaine tapped her fingers against her spellbook. “Anyway, I think you two will be totally fine. A fighter and a barbarian—just focus on getting that damage in. They won’t be able to take that many hits. Hudol people aren’t really practical casters, anyway. Avoid spells, deal max damage.”

Fabian repeated that under his breath a few times. “Got it.”

“That should be everything,” Adaine said, scanning the room a few times.

Fabian snapped his fingers. “Oh— did you ever get around to looking Aguefort’s triad arrangement?”

Adaine sucked in a breath. “No. They signed up really, really late, which was weird. I couldn’t get around to looking at it.”

“That’s fine, then. Don’t worry about it.” Fabian fiddled with the hilt of his sword. “I just wanted to see if we could know beforehand.”

Adaine stood off and brushed off her hands. “Alright! Rounds are in about ten minutes. Let’s get this started!”

Fabian pumped his fist. Mary Ann tilted her axe a few inches, which was probably about as much reaction they were going to get out of her.

- - -

Fabian stretched as he entered his arena, sizing up the wizard dude in front of him while shouldering his sword. “Any last-minute thoughts?” he said quietly.

Pok materialized, sitting cross-legged in midair. “Hmm. What Adaine said was good strategy. Stay light on your feet and avoid spells, then get some hits in. Be fast and stay close.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just keep your hits coming. Make sure they can’t keep concentration on anything. And keep an eye on their hands so you know what’s coming.” Pok paused for a moment, thinking. “Oh, and Fabian?”

Fabian glanced over at him.

He grinned. “You’re going to do great. You’ve been working hard lately. You’ve got this. You’ve already improved so much.”

Fabian flexed his hands on his sword hilt. “I won’t let you down.”

His wizard opponent was giving him a once-over. “Looks like this’ll be pretty easy,” he taunted.

Fabian snorted. “Oh, please.”

The wizard grinned. “I hope this one’s quick.”

“Three, two, one, begin!”

- - -

Here’s the thing—the fight was quick.

Here’s the other thing, though—Fabian was, surprisingly, not the one pinned down at the end of it.

Fabian kept Pok’s and Adaine’s teachings in his head as he went, immediately going straight for the wizard and stepping aside to avoid one of his attacks. This wizard had spells, but clearly not maneuvers. He ducked under a streak of flame. Firebolt, his brain supplied, verbal and somatic components—watch the hand. He stepped right to avoid the next one. With just a few slashes of his sword—maybe not of the best form, but good enough to cause significant damage—his opponent was on the ground, hissing in pain. Fabian tapped him out immediately, and was subsequently shocked.

“Oh my gods,” he said to himself. Then he whirled around to Pok. “Did you see that?”

Pok nodded. “Fabian… I think you’ve got yourself your first win.”

He couldn’t believe it. The wizard staggered out to see a cleric, and Fabian headed out of his ring, looking around. He was just in time to see Mary Ann obliterate her opponent—who was at least three times taller than her—and easily earn their triad their second win.

Mary Ann headed up and out of her ring without so much of an acknowledgement of her victory. “You’re out fast.”

Fabian couldn’t help but grin with pride. “I am.”

Adaine was out just a minute later, a small burn on her hand but looking otherwise unscathed. “Stupid beginner wizard didn’t know any offensive spells except Firebolt. I don’t know why Hudol even does these tournaments, they’re so easy to beat.” Then she blinked and looked at both Mary Ann and Fabian, who looked virtually unharmed. “Wait. Did you two both win?”

They nodded. Adaine grinned in delight. “We got a sweep win? This is awesome, guys!” She grabbed them into a hug—or, she tried to, but Mary Ann immediately backed away, so Adaine just hugged Fabian instead. “We’re moving onto round two!”

All sense of pride and excitement Fabian felt from winning his very first round on his own began to drain away. “Oh, no. Aguefort.”

“Oh, they’re not so bad. Who even is their third player, anyway?” Adaine grabbed the competition-issued pamphlets. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry…” She stopped. “Ah, shit. Spoke too soon.”

Fabian’s heart was very quickly sinking. He did not like the expression Adaine was making. “What? Just say it.”

She gave him a grim, sympathetic frown as she slowly passed him the papers.

The moment Fabian saw the name of Aguefort’s third position, he knew he was doomed.

- - -

Fabian splashed cold water from the bathroom sink onto his face. “He’s here. He’s competing for Aguefort. He doesn’t even go there yet.” He sank to the ground. “And he’s third position. Why?! Everyone knows that he should be first, and he’s third.”

“Because of you,” Pok said.

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” Fabian banged his fist against the wall. “Doesn’t he ever let anything go?"

Pok shook his head, looking half-amused, half-sympathetic. “Honestly, probably never.”

“Ugh!” Fabian rubbed his face. “What does he not understand? I can’t fight him. Not in this state. I could hardly beat that Hudol kid, and Adaine said they were all pushovers.”

“You beat that kid easily, don’t sell yourself short, kiddo,” Pok said encouragingly. “Yeah, maybe he was kind of a pushover, but that was your first win. Your first win. Take a moment to appreciate it, that’s important.”

Fabian looked up and met Pok’s eyes. “Yeah, but you know that I don’t stand a chance against Riz.”

Pok sighed. “Maybe not.”

Fabian was silent. He just didn’t fucking know what to do.

Then, he sat up straight. “Wait. What if you did it?”

“Hm?”

“What if you possessed me again? Just for this one against Riz. That way, Riz isn’t disappointed and I don’t get humiliated.” Then he sank back down. “I know I promised I would fight this one alone. I hate that I’m doing this, but… I was wrong. I’m not ready.”

“You’re absolutely ready,” Pok promised. “You’ve made significant progress in a pretty short amount of time. You’re not Riz’s level yet, but he’s been training for a lot longer than you.”

Fabian nodded slightly. “But you’ll still do it for me?”

Pok studied him for a moment. “Just as long as you make the same promise you did with me last time. That you’ll pay attention and watch, not just let me do all the work.”

Fabian nodded. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not, kid. I’m proud of where you are right now. And, hey—call me selfish, but it’ll be nice to fight my kid again. See where he’s at. Connect again.”

Fabian watched the slightly wistful expression on Pok’s face and held onto that, hoping it would smother the inexplicable feeling of guilt eating at his stomach. 

“So it’s settled, then.” Fabian pulled himself back up and splashed himself again with the cold water before wiping it dry. “You’ll take over this time.”

Pok nodded. “You got it. And don’t worry about it so hard, kiddo. I’m very proud of you already.”

- - -

Adaine gave a pep talk before they went, but she kept making nervous glances at Fabian that made him feel like she thought he was going to lose. Which, fair. Mary Ann didn’t seem to be listening, but she nodded along, which Fabian supposed was the most they were going to get out of her.

“So… yeah.” Adaine pumped her fist slightly. “We got this. Just hold on, keep going, we’ll win this thing.”

Fabian was nervous, even though he knew he wasn’t going to be the one fighting. He kept tightening and loosening his grip on his sword, which was probably why Adaine kept directing her comforting statements at him. “Yeah,” he added. “And, y’know, even if we don’t win, everything will be fine. We had a sweep win and everything.”

“What makes you say that?” Mary Ann asked. “You think you’re gonna lose?”

Fabian went quiet.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adaine cut in. “We could win or lose. And either way, we’ll have learned something. And we shouldn’t count ourselves out, anyway—we won against Aguefort last time around, who’s to say we can’t do it again?”

“And you have me,” Pok added. “Breathe, Fabian. This time, you just sit back and watch.”

Something about that didn’t sit quite right with Fabian, but he nodded, ignoring the slightly nauseous feeling he was getting. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re—Adaine’s right. Let’s go. Let’s do this.”

The nausea only grew when the minute warning was called and Adaine herded the two of them to their respective battle rings. Fabian swallowed difficultly as he stepped into the arena.

Riz was already there, looking surprisingly nervous, tapping his thin fingers against his knees and his tail curling anxiously around his ankle. He seemed to have opted out of wearing his glasses for the fight. He looked up when Fabian walked in and smiled slightly.

The fight hadn’t even started and it was like Fabian had been punched. At least Riz wasn’t wearing the gun and was instead wielding a thin, short, shadowy sword.

“Funny seeing you here,” Fabian said, trying to hide how much he wanted to throw up.

Riz bowed his head at Fabian briefly. “Guess you’ll finally have to fight me now.”

“Guess so,” Fabian muttered.

He went to take his stance as Riz did too once the voice on the overhead speakers began to call out the thirty-second countdown. 

“Are you ready?” Pok asked.

Fabian nodded once, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and braced himself.

The elastic feel came over his body, as if some invisible other force was pushing on his body and putting it in place.

He grounded himself in his body as he felt Pok make the necessary adjustments, and then—

“Three, two, one!”

They were off.

- - -

In the arena to Fabian’s right, Mary Ann was easily deflecting voiced jabs from Aguefort’s ranger. Adaine had warned her beforehand about her fighting style versus a ranger’s—as long as she could get close, she could win. The fight was a hunt around the battlefield as the ranger did everything to avoid being on the wrong end of Mary Ann’s axe.

Meanwhile, Adaine held her own against a frustratingly evasive fighter. She cursed under her breath and reminded herself not to waste spell slots as she ran down all the strategies from her textbook she could remember.

Riz’s opener was some kind of low feint to the left, but Pok seemed to predict it before it was even complete. Fabian neatly stepped to the side and parried upward, then retaliated with a backhanded sweep that caught Riz on the shoulder. Riz pivoted, and Fabian noticed he was slowly smiling, getting settled.

Fabian made a lunge forward and Riz ducked and slid past between his legs, popping up behind him, and Fabian whirled around.

Riz was getting comfortable.

Of course, Fabian remembered. He was technically fighting his own father, after all.

Mary Ann easily stepped to the side as yet another arrow failed to hurt her. “You talk a big game,” she said to her opponent.

The wood elf grinned as she nocked another arrow. “Oh, I more than just talk it.”

Mary Ann hefted her axe and charged.

Adaine hissed in frustration as the fighter refused to make a hit, taunting her while darting around the battlefield and dodging each spell she threw at him. She shot cantrips at him desperately, trying to save slots.

“Come on, Adaine,” she muttered under her breath, “just think.”

Pok managed to keep Fabian on his feet as Riz darted about, trying to throw him off balance. As Riz made for a leap, Fabian struck him across the chest and sent him to the ground, where he shoulder-rolled and immediately stood back up.

Something just felt wrong about this. Was Riz fighting Fabian because he could see his dad in the fight? Did he even notice the similarities in the fighting style? In Riz’s eyes, where did Pok end and “Fabian” begin?

Pok’s voice appeared in Fabian’s mind, and he would’ve jolted if he could. The elasticity of his body sprung a little. “Fabian, this next move’s important. Watch.”

So Fabian did, trying to ignore the thoughts flooding his head.

“Dodge.” Fabian’s body bent to the right as another thrust came for him. “And while he’s off balance, grab and thrust.” Fabian’s wrist closed around Riz’s arm, which had moved back too slowly. Riz let out a yelp.

Suddenly, things slowed down. Fabian could feel Pok’s influence, moving his arm towards Riz’s fatal zone. The tip of the sword was inches away. The fight would be over.

“W-wait,” Fabian suddenly blurted out, out loud. The words somehow managed to tumble out, and that’s when Fabian realized—he still had some semblance of control over his body, as long as he just resisted the elasticity, moved against the invisible forces pushing his body into the perfect position.

“Fabian,” came Pok’s voice. “What are you doing? You can win this now.”

In the confusion, Riz managed to wrench his arm from Fabian’s grasp and stumble back, quickly regaining his balance and gripping his sword with both hands. 

“Go! Move, before he gets to you.” Fabian, thrown off guard, felt himself being pulled aside as Riz came for another attack, although he could tell this wasn’t as smooth as a dodge. It was as if he and Pok were fighting for control.

Riz frowned as if noticing the difference. “Fabian?” he asked uncertainly.

Fabian felt his arm jerk forward, but he held it in place resolutely. “I want to play by my own rules,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“I– want to– fight by myself,” he hissed, then forcibly pulled his body free.

And just like that, Pok was ejected from his body. He felt a tingling sensation down his spine as he saw Pok materialize in the corner of his eye.

“Fabian?” Pok asked, but Fabian was already going for it.

He swung. Too wide, far too wide, and Riz parried easily, looking confused. “You could’ve ended it, just now,” Riz said as he swung in and cut Fabian’s forearm. Fabian sucked in a breath and tried again, thrusting in clumsily and easily getting knocked aside again. “Why didn’t you?”

Fabian ignored him. He set his jaw and tried for another swing, and was met with yet another simple, almost lazy parry.

Riz gritted his teeth and slashed upwards, with Fabian just managing to duck backwards as Riz advanced. “Fight properly!”

“I am,” Fabian muttered, trying this time to sweep at Riz’s legs, but Riz hopped out of the way and slashed him again, this time cutting into his side. Fabian hissed in pain.

Fabian was winded. He had lost all of the earlier grace he possessed while Pok was in control. Now Pok was silent, watching to the side. Fabian was not looking forward to facing him once the fight was over. He watched Riz’s face turn from determined satisfaction to frustrated confusion. 

He made another slash. Reckless, overhead, desperate and clumsy. Riz could’ve easily dipped in and hit his fatal zone, he was leaving it wide open, but instead he parried, pushed Fabian back so that he stumbled a few steps backward, and yelled, “What the fuck are you doing?”

And Fabian was trying. He really was. 

Riz wasn’t going for him, even as he stood there catching his breath. “Please, just… fight,” Fabian muttered.

Riz’s eyes flashed, and he dashed towards Fabian, who did his best to block a strike but ended up with a cut to the cheek. He wiped at the blood and swung at Riz one last time.

In a smooth move that was so fast Fabian could barely process what happened between standing up and lying sprawled with his back on the ground, Riz had ducked, swept under Fabian’s feet with his sword, and leapt onto his arm, pinning him to the ground with the tip of his sword digging into his chest, putting just enough pressure to not break skin.

In the arena to his left, Adaine endured hit after hit, yelling out in pain every time but staying standing, protecting her fatal zones and shooting every offensive spell she could think of.

Mary Ann hardly flinched when an arrow embedded itself in her shoulder. She grabbed it and pulled it out, eyes flashing as she slashed forward with her blade. 

Fabian squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights in the ceiling. Then, he realized—Riz’s eyes were bright with… tears?

The moment the announcers called out Riz’s win, Riz was already climbing off, wiping at his eyes as he stumbled back. “What the fuck was that, Fabian?”

Fabian avoided Riz’s gaze as he slowly pulled himself up.

“Fabian, I’m talking to you, what the fuck?” Riz grabbed Fabian’s wrist and forcibly pulled him to his feet. “Do you think I’m some kind of joke?”

Fabian closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Riz’s face and remember the time when he was eleven, when he won and Riz lost, when Riz was just as teary-eyed, but this time he was angry. “I’m… sorry. I told you, I’m… not who you think I am.”

He opened his eyes when Riz scoffed shakily. “Six years, Fabian Seacaster. Six fucking years. I was gone for six fucking years. And when everyone told me that I was being dramatic, and when everyone told me that it was a waste of my time, I stuck to it. But I guess they were right. You’re a fucking waste of my time.”

Fabian’s fists clenched. “Riz—”

“Guess I was stupid,” Riz snapped. “Stupid for thinking…”

He cut himself off, then just stood there, frozen, staring at Fabian, before turning on his heel and running out of the arena.

Fabian stood there, staring at the ground, for a good few minutes after Riz left. Then he dragged himself out of the fighting ring and slumped against a wall, sliding to the ground.

Mary Ann stumbled for half a second, but it was all that was needed—she gasped involuntarily when an arrow sank into the center of her chest.

Adaine held out until the end, rasping out a cough when she was flung to the ground limply, just barely conscious as she was tapped out.

The Aguefort shadow team won 3-0.

Chapter Text

“Fabian? Fabian.”

Fabian closed his eyes and curled in on himself, but Pok’s voice wouldn’t be drowned out.

“Fabian. What were you thinking?”

Fabian wiped hurriedly at his eyes, which had started to tear up. “I’m— sorry,” he whispered.

Pok sat down next to him. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t— I don’t know. I wanted to… I wanted to see if… I wanted to see just how far away he was,” Fabian muttered. “Turns out, it’s a lot.” He dropped his head to his knees. “I’m sorry, I know you wanted to fight him, I— I’m so sorry.”

Pok sighed softly. “Never mind that. That was unfair of me. Fabian, it’s okay.”

“We lost,” he said hoarsely. 

“It’s okay. That happens.”

Fabian stared at the ground quietly.

After having been healed by the cleric, he’d stumbled dazedly into their school’s designated waiting area. Mary Ann and Adaine were both already there. Adaine looked worse for wear— she had been clinging on the the last shreds of consciousness before being revived by the clerics, and while she was back at full health, her worn clothes still showed how badly she was beat up. Mary Ann meanwhile was stoically staring out, stock-still.

Fabian had already known what the results were, but his stomach dropped anyway. Now he was slumped down on the ground next to their team table.

Pok sat on the ground next to him. “Fabian. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

Fabian slowly shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I took that away from you.”

“You didn’t take anything away from me. I’m sorry I put that kind of pressure on you.”

Fabian sighed and shrugged. “He hates me.”

“I don’t think he does.”

“Don’t lie to me. He does.”

Pok was quiet for a moment, then wrapped an incorporeal arm around Fabian’s shoulders. 

The third round had already started and ended. The fourth round was still going. The triad, however, didn’t have the heart to do anything other than sit there quietly.

Their silence was broken by a figure who came running at them. Fabian looked up when he heard heavy footfalls and saw Fig skidding to a stop in front of their station, panting. “Hey! Guys! I— I just got out of detention, I—”

She stopped, then scanned each of their faces.

“What happened?”

“We lost,” said Mary Ann. “Three-oh. Sweep.”

Adaine was crying silently. Fabian was afraid to look at her.

Fig groaned and pulled up a chair. “You guys— I— I leave you alone for two rounds, and you—” She cut herself off abruptly, taking in the mood. “Right, I— never mind. It’s okay. I know you guys are upset, but… it’s— it’s just a loss. We can— we’ve got this, yeah?” She patted Fabian on the back. “Come on, get up, let me treat you guys to dinner.”

Fabian didn’t budge. Mary Ann still hadn’t moved an inch except to speak.

Adaine lifted her head from her arms and wiped away tears. “Fig…”

Fig was determined to ignore the mood. “Everybody up. Come on. Chop, chop. We’re getting food. No moping on my watch. Let’s go.”

The triad glanced at each other wearily.

- - -

Eventually they gave in and let Fig take them to Krom’s Diner, although none of them had much of an appetite, except Fig. 

“You guys can’t be like this every time you lose,” Fig was saying as she swallowed a scoop of her plate of, inexplicably, cottage cheese and vanilla ice cream. “It’s— loss happens all the time, you can’t just be mopey every time things don’t go your way, yeah?” She nudged Adaine. “Heard you held out until the very last second. That’s nuts. That takes a lot of work.”

Adaine shrugged as she sipped from her tea.

“And— Mary Ann, come on. You can’t obliterate everybody, there’s got to be some people who slip past you.”

Mary Ann didn’t look up from her pink plastic toy keychain as she tapped the buttons a little too aggressively.

“Fabian…” Fig trailed off. “Riz, huh?”

Fabian buried his head in his arms. “Don’t… just… don’t.”

Fig went quiet. “Sorry.”

They sat in awkward, tense silence for a while.

“I think I’ll go home,” Adaine finally said, slowly standing up.

Fig hurriedly stood up, too. “Wait, hold on. You never volunteer to go home. Come on, Adaine, it’s— it’s just a loss.”

“I know,” Adaine said. “I just don’t feel great. I’ll see you guys at school.”

Without another word, she grabbed her bag and left the diner.

Mary Ann grunted as she punched another button. Her keychain buzzed, and she looked up at Fig. “I’m leaving too.”

Fig didn’t try to stop her this time. She slowly sat back down before turning to Fabian. “Well? Are you going too?”

Fabian glanced at Pok as inconspiciously as possible.

Then he nodded. “I think… I think I’ll go… I need to find someone,” he said softly. “Thanks for coming, Fig.”

Fig sighed. “Fine. Okay. Do whatever. Could you at least help me pay the bill?”

Fabian looked at the table. Fig was the only person who had even ordered anything.

“Sure.” He threw down some gold pieces and got up to leave the booth.

- - -

“That was a mistake.” Fabian tore a hand through his hair. “That was— that was stupid. You wanted to fight him, and he wanted to fight you, and I betrayed both of you and our team to— to prove something to myself. That was dumb .” He turned to Pok. “I think I’m going to go find him. See if I can’t get him to do a rematch. And I’ll let you do it this time, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Pok nodded, looking only slightly disappointed. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid.”

Fabian shrugged helplessly. “Well. Too late now. Any idea where he’d be?”

Pok looked contemplative. “Could be at the battle ring.”

“Right. Right, okay.” He took a deep breath and mentally braced himself. “A rematch. I owe both of you that much. I’ll go talk to him, make him see reason.”

- - -

Pok’s instincts were right, as they usually were. The next day, Fabian managed to catch Riz right before he entered Elmville Battle Dojo, rushing up to enter with him before the door swinged shut.

“Riz! Riz, hi, I was— I was looking for you.”

Riz ignored him as he walked up to the line in front of the check-in desk, which was not a very good sign. Fabian sighed in frustration. “Riz— hey, I— I wasn’t at my best, yesterday, that was— it was bad— I owe you a rematch.”

Still silence. Riz moved up a few places in line. 

“Come on. Talk to me. That was— that was a bad fight, I know, but I owe you better, come on, let’s rematch.”

Riz got to the front of the line. “Hey, Liora. Just checking in.”

The blue tiefling at the desk nodded and wrote something down. Right before entering the ring, Riz turned around.

“Fabian Secaster, you leave and leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to see you. Got that?”

Fabian faltered. “I—”

Without waiting for a response, Riz turned around.

The tiefling receptionist raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to go inside or not?”

Fabian buffered for a moment. “I, uh… no. I’ll— I’ll wait.”

He turned around and stepped outside, then sat down next to the door.

Riz didn’t want to see him. But he was going to have to.

Fabian sat there and waited for an agonizing few hours. The sky had darkened and the ring was pretty much at closing time when Riz finally left the building.

“Gods, you’re still here,” he muttered when he spotted Fabian. He began to walk past him and away.

“Riz—” Fabian scrambled to stand up. “Riz, I— wait. Wait, could you— could you just wait?”

Riz didn’t slow down as he walked down the road, but Fabian chased after him. “I’m sorry, okay? I waited here for you for six hours, come on, the least you could do is just fight me—”

Riz whirled around. “Six hours?! You think six hours is tough? I waited for you for six fucking years, Fabian! Leave me the fuck alone!”

He spun on his heel and walked away briskly, angrily. Fabian watched and didn’t bother following, slowly sinking back down to the ground.

“Damn it,” he hissed to himself, then let his head drop into his arms. “I fucked up.”

Chapter Text

Fabian stopped trying to force a run-in with Riz about two weeks into his attempts, after he narrowly dodged a literal dagger to the throat and realized that the rogue was not above violence outside the battle ring, subsequently causing great paranoia that Riz would not hesitate to use his gun the next time Fabian bothered him.

Despite everything, life moved on, which meant Fabian was pulled along for the ride. Guiltily, he dropped his ambition to reconcile with Riz despite Pok’s wistful desire to fight his son again. There was just no way he could get to Riz without threatening his life. Meanwhile, the Adventuring club at school had cheered up a bit after the utter defeat by Aguefort at the previous fight by one thing: the end of the year.

After much debate and discussion, they had all come to the agreement to take their club to Aguefort and had, somehow, all convinced their families that this was a viable and not-at-all impulsive decision.

Fabian didn’t know about Adaine, Fig, and Mary Ann, but his family, for one, was delighted. Since the “mysterious fight” back when he was eleven and his vow to never fight again, Bill had been greatly disappointed that Fabian had seemingly lost his appetite for adventure and violence. Still, his father did his best to respect Fabian’s wishes, which was honestly more than Fabian could ask for. Once Fabian announced he was back to adventuring and explained his plans to transfer to Aguefort and maybe even go pro with his friends, Bill had been so delighted that he called the whole family—which was just Fabian, his parents, Cathilda, and a few stray pirates in barrels—together to celebrate with an all-nighter of shanties. Even Fabian’s mother stepped out of her sensory deprivation egg for the night, albeit still with her glass of red wine, which somehow kept refilling itself even once the wine bottle was empty.

Fabian knew that Bill hadn’t completely understood his desire to stop fighting, and he was ever grateful that there little push back for his original decision. Still, he could tell that his father was relieved at his newly rekindled passion.

And so, the last month of school came and went, and Bill threw yet another party on the last night of the year, which was even more exuberant than his birthday party only a few weeks before.

“My darling son, going into his junior year! I’m so very proud of you, my boy.”

Fabian smiled. “Thank you, papa.”

Bill laughed boisterously, then turned to Cathilda. “Cathilda! Get us whatever alcohol you can find!”

“Of course, Master William.” The halfling mind smiled almost wryly. “And, Master Fabian, I think I have yet to congratulate you, as well as wish you well for your coming school year. Aguefort is a wonderful school.”

“And he’ll be going with his very own crew!” Bill cackled.

“They’re not my crew, papa,” Fabian reminded his father. “We’re just a club. They’re my friends.”

Bill waved off the correction as he usually did. “As you say, my boy.”

Hallariel drifted by with her glass and pressed a kiss to her husband’s temple. “Leave him be, Bill. Fabian, darling, you’re going to keep your grades up at this new school, won’t you?” 

“Of course, mama,” Fabian assured.

She blew him a kiss.

Pok, invisible to everyone else as usual, sat on the tabletop next to Fabian’s celebratory plate of kippers. “This is the third party your family’s held in the last month.”

Fabian shrugged with a slight grin. He glanced at his parents, who were now distracted talking to each other and Cathilda. “That’s just what they’re like,” he said under his breath. “It’s a bit much sometimes, but it’s also pretty awesome.”

“Well, for the record, I can’t throw you a party, but I’m proud of you too.”

Fabian looked up, slightly frowning. “Even if I kind of sort of drove away your son and now he hates me?”

“Wasn’t your most slick move, reminding him just how long it’s actually been,” Pok admitted, grinning despite his words. “But I’m still proud of you. This is your journey, too. It’s not just about me and him.”

Fabian opened his mouth to reply, feeling warmth at Pok’s words, but at that moment Bill spontaneously drew his sword and called out to the barrel pirates for more shanties before throwing up a balloon-looking thing and stabbing it open to reveal an explosion of what looked like snuff powder. He and the pirates roared while Hallariel clapped daintily and Cathilda immediately handed Fabian a towel, as he was now covered in drugs.

“A bit much sometimes,” Fabian echoed, laughing.

- - -

Kristen Applebees sighed as she collapsed into the bleachers overlooking the Aguefort Academy’s bloodrush field. She looked up and grinned as one of the players, a tall half-orc kid pulling out his earbuds, sat down next to her, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Practice go well?” she asked, tossing Gorgug Thistlespring a water bottle.

He caught it and blew out a breath. “Pretty average. How was your round?”

She shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. I won, but barely. Don’t think I’ll get graded this year.” She frowned.

“Yeah, well, neither am I, so I guess we’re even.” Gorgug sighed as he stretched. “It’s always that seventh round I mess up on.”

“At least it’s sophomore year. We have time.” Kristen wrinkled her nose. “Although we may have to actually form a party next year. Don’t think we’ll get away with having a triad anymore now that Zelda’s graduated early.” Then she winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up—”

“It’s fine,” Gorgug interrupted. He scanned the field, then straightened up. “Hey— is that Ayda?”

Kristen turned to follow his gaze. “It is!” She waved across the field.

The principal’s half-phoenix daughter spotted them from a few yards away, then promptly flew up the bleachers to meet them. “Kristen. Gorgug. It’s lovely to see you two. How is the grading tournament going for you two?”

“I’m already out,” Gorgug admitted sheepishly.

“I’m one loss away from being out,” Kristen said. “It’s fine. We’re at a disadvantage this year, anyway.”

“So you’ll be staying at the academy for at least another year?” Ayda clarified.

The two nodded.

“Well. That’s unfortunate for your professional endeavours, but I’ll admit that it makes me happy that this means we will continue seeing more of each other.”

Gorgug perked up. “We will? Are you going to be hanging around campus more?”

Ayda nodded. “I’ve decided to take up my father’s offer to try and re-establish our bond. In fact, he wants me to be a youth lead at the academy’s impending summer training course. I’m not quite sure how to explain to him that I still am not used to being considered a youth. Anyway, that’s part of why I’ve come to find you two today. I was wondering if one of you perhaps would like to come with me as instructors. You both are skilled adventurers, and it would be nice to have a familiar face.”

Kristen groaned. “I would love to, but my parents are making me volunteer at this stupid church camp thing.” She frowned down at her hands. “I was planning on moving out this summer, but… my brother’s starting at school next year.”

Gorgug patted Kristen’s back comfortingly. “You sure you don’t want to go as, like, an escape or something?”

Kristen shook her head sadly. “I’m… trying to be agreeable right now.”

“I wish you the best of luck with your parents,” Ayda said. “After all, I’ll be dealing with difficult parents over the summer as well.”

“I’ll definitely be able to go,” Gorgug offered. “I mean, my parents would totally be cool with it, and I think it would be good training.”

“Excellent.” Ayda gave a rare smile. “Thank you, Gorgug. And, again, best of luck, Kristen. I’ll look forward to camp knowing I’ll have a friend by my side. I have other business to attend to now, but I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.”

- - -

“I can’t believe I somehow convinced my mom to let me go to Aguefort,” Fig said through a huge bite of banana split. 

“Doesn’t your mom do adventuring?” Fabian asked. “I mean, she worked at the battle dojo for a while.”

“Yeah, she went to Aguefort when she was younger, but she’s always been pretty protective. Wouldn’t let me go. Not sure why.” She frowned for a moment, then shrugged and took another bite.

“I’m surprised my parents are letting me go to Aguefort too,” Adaine said cautiously. “I mean, I already failed out of Hudol, so I guess I can’t make them any more disappointed in me than they already are.” She wrinkled her nose and sipped her milkshake.

Beep beep beep!  

Mary Ann glanced up from her gadget when the other three turned to her.

“I reached apple level on Quokki Pets,” she said.

“Ooh,” said Fig, leaning over the table.

Fabian rested his head on his hand. “So… Mary Ann, you psyched, or what?”

“Hm?”

“Are you, like… excited? To go to adventuring school.”

“Yeah.”

Fabian glanced at Adaine, nodding. “Cool. Cool, cool. Uh… summer plans?”

Fig rapped her fingers on the table. “I’m trying to start a band, so I was going to hold auditions for a drummer. I don’t suppose any of you three…?”

Fabian and Adaine shook their heads. Mary Ann aggressively pressed buttons on her Quokki Pet thing. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing over the summer,” said Adaine. “It’s not like my parents plan summer camps or anything for me. I guess I’ll be studying up, preparing for adventuring school.”

Fabian’s crystal vibrated just then. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened his notifications.

“It’s Mazey,” he said. “She wants to talk to me at her house.” 

Fig raised her eyebrows. “What about?”

“Not sure.” He glanced at his friends. “Sorry to cut our ice cream date short, but I think I’ll meet her there.” He put down enough gold pieces to cover all the ice creams, then grinned and saluted at them as he climbed out of the booth. “See you guys soon, hopefully!”

- - -

“Riz,” Sklonda said tiredly, rubbing her face as she stepped into her son’s bedroom, “I told you to get some sleep.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m just kind of excited. I’m going to adventuring school!”

His mother shook her head and sat down in a chair in his office. “I’m proud of you, but you’re going into something really dangerous, y’know. People die at that school all the time.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Riz, pinning a photo onto his latest corkboard.

“What’s this you’re working on? New mystery?”

“Uh— no, nothing,” he said quickly, stepping in front of the board to hide its contents. “It’s, uh— more personal. More of a thought dump.”

“Ah.” Sklonda sipped from her mug of coffee. “Well, as much as I have my doubts about you attending this school—”

“Mom…”

“I’m just saying, I’m perfectly capable of teaching you to fight myself without any danger of you dying on your first day.”

Riz rolled his eyes.

“Well, either way, this pamphlet came in the mail for you.” She stood up and slid the colorful folded paper bearing the academy’s red A across Riz’s desk.

He reached for it immediately and opened it. “What’s this?”

“Something about a summer course. You don’t have any summer plans, as far as I’m aware, anyway, so I thought you might want to take a look.”

Riz’s eyes were bright as he scanned the contents. “You’re letting me go?”

“I don’t think I could stop you if I wanted to.”

Riz grinned at that.

Sklonda tapped the pamphlet. “I think this could be good for you, to be honest. Get to know some people. That way you won’t be struggling to make friends on your first day.”

Riz went a little quiet at that. “…Yeah. No, you’re right.” He looked up at his mom. “You think I’ll make friends? I mean, I can count on one hand the friends I made in Bastion City.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have started with handing out business cards,” Sklonda said ruefully. “I think you can absolutely make friends. And this is a great chance to do so.” She ruffled his hair. “This camp starts next week. I reserved a spot for you. You think you want to go?”

Riz nodded earnestly. “Yeah. I do.”

Sklonda scanned her son’s solemn face, then shook her head. “Alright, then. I trust you’ll have your bags packed by then. Love you, sweetie.” She kissed the top of his head.

“Love you, Mom.”

- - -

“Fig? Is that you?”

Fig swore under her breath, cursing herself for her lack of stealth.

“Yeah,” she yelled back. “I’m going to my room.”

Sandra Lynn appeared in the doorway, blocking her path. “No, you’re not, young lady.”

“Leave me alone, Mom,” Fig groaned. “I was just getting ice cream with my friends, what’s the fucking big deal?”

Sandra Lynn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like she often did these days. “Look, honey, your dad and I—”

“Unless you’re talking about the devil you cheated with,” Fig interrupted, flicking her horns, “I think you mean Gilear.”

“He’s still your—”

“Don’t start that ‘he’s still your father’ bullshit with me, Mom, he’s not, he disowned me, remember?”

“Watch your language, Figueroth,” her mother snapped. Then she closed her eyes and tried a calming breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fight with you. It’s just, I noticed your audition posters for this band you’re starting.”

“Yeah. You have a problem with my band?”

“I don’t have a problem with your band, sweetie, you’re a very accomplished bard. I just… your f— Gilear wanted to maybe spend time over the summer with you. Connect with you again. You know he’s sorry about the things he said. He’s been sorry.”

Fig rolled her eyes. “I don’t care, Mom, I’ve said this so many times. I don’t care if it’s been years, he can’t even say it to my face, he’s always talking through you. I don’t care. He’s not my father anymore, and that’s his decision. Now can I go to my room?”

Sandra Lynn looked like she wanted to argue, to convince Fig further, but after a moment of silence, she let her shoulders sag.

“Sure, Fig,” she said. “I’ll call you down for dinner.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Fig muttered, pushing past her to storm up the stairs.

- - -

“Adaine.”

Adaine froze. She was so close to her room, if she could just get through the door —

“Turn around.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and did what she was told. “What?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” said her father coldly. “Where were you?”

“Ice cream with my friends,” she muttered.

“Why?”

“Just… discussing our academic plan for school.”

Aelwyn snorted from across the room. Adaine shot her a glare. “What?”

“Nothing!” her sister said. “Just… you really need to plan to go to that school for savages? I thought maybe you just needed to… be savage.”

Adaine resisted the urge to shoot a spell at her.

“Well,” Angwyn said, “I think you’d do well to ask my permission next time, Adaine.”

“Why? So you can pretend you care about anything I do?”

Angwyn let out a high-and-mighty scoff before waving a hand at her dismissively. “One day, dear daughter, you’ll understand that that is no way to speak to your father.”

Adaine rolled her eyes. “Am I dismissed now, Father?” she asked, layering as much sarcasm into her words as possible.

Something flashed in Angwyn’s eyes before he turned back to his newspaper. “Go on, then.”

Adaine turned on her heel and escaped into her room, sighing and collapsing with relief onto her bed. 

“Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic,” she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

- - -

“Training camp?”

“Yeah!” Mazey said brightly. “Or, it’s not so much training camp as summer training course, but I thought you four might want to check it out. There will be youth leads, you’ll meet some friends and teachers, you can train, and you can ask questions about what school life will be like.”

“Can’t we just ask you those questions?”

Mazey sighed and swatted Fabian on the arm, which actually hurt a lot. Mazey was very strong. “Yes, but this fosters a sense of community .”

“Are you required to pitch this to us as president or something?”

She crossed her arms. “Do you want to go or not?”

He raised his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay. It honestly sounds kind of cool. I’ll text the others.”

- - -

Bzzt.

Fig looked up as her crystal vibrated.

“Fig! Dinner!”

“I’m coming!” Fig reached for her crystal on the nightstand and opened it to see a group text from Fabian with screenshots of a pamphlet for Aguefort’s summer course program. She clicked to enlarge it and scrolled through, reading the text.

“Fig!”

“Okay, okay!” She pocketed her crystal, threw open the door, and ran down the stairs.

She slid into the dining room as Sandra Lynn placed down a plate of cold-looking leftovers. She wrinkled her nose and sat down.

Despite everything, her mother still hadn’t quite gotten her life together since the divorce. As much as she tried to hide it, she was still kind of a mess, and Fig could tell. And despite their differences over Fig’s real father, she still did her best not to draw attention to it.

“Dinner looks great, Mom,” Fig said. “Hey, listen, change of plans— I think I’m going to this Aguefort training course thing with Fabian for the summer.”

Sandra Lynn sighed as she set down her own plate and sat down. “Fig… I know you don’t want to spend time with Gilear. But he truly just wants to reconnect with his daughter. And I know you’re tired of him speaking through me, but it’s not like you’re exactly giving him a chance to approach him, you know.”

Fig poked at her food. “I did kind of shove a bunch of books at him and then skateboard away the last time I saw him.”

“There you go.” Sandra Lynn covered Fig’s hand with her own. “Could you give him just one chance?”

Fig frowned at her food. She wanted to spend the summer with her adventuring friends, to meet new people and learn new skills.

But she also really, really wanted her dad back.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But this isn’t me forgiving him.”

Sandra Lynn let out a sigh of mixed surprise and relief, like she didn’t know it would be that easy. “It’s a step, sweetie. I’ll let him know.” She leaned forward and kissed Fig on the forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah.” Fig reached for her crystal. “No problem.”

- - -

“Fig says she has family stuff and can’t go,” Fabian reported. “And neither can Adaine. Bummer.” He scrolled. “Mary Ann is chill with it, though.” He looked up. “And I assume you’ll be going?”

“I will,” said Mazey. “Alright! I think there are still slots for juniors, so I’ll sign you up.” She grinned, then her face morphed into something more serious. “But seriously, Fabian, this is no joke. It’s not just summer camp. It’s a training course. This might just be a pivotal moment for your future.”

Fabian laughed. “Pivotal moments for my future have nothing on me. Bring it.”

Chapter Text

Fabian had five missed calls from Mazey, a suitcase that refused to roll properly, a cramp in his left foot, and a ghostly angel hot on his heels as he ran as fast as he could to the meeting point where the bus was taking the course students to the hotel they would be staying at.

“Hurry, Fabian!” Pok called out from behind him.

“Easy for you to say,” Fabian snapped breathlessly, aggressively tugging at his luggage to set it upright as it threatened to fall over again. “Gods, I should get a motorbike or something.”

He slid into the bus stop as the last person in line was climbing up the stairs. Mazey and Mary Ann were still waiting for him at the stop.

“Oh my gods, you’re finally here! You’re so late, come on!” Mazey leapt up and grabbed him by the arm, manhandling him onto the bus while wrenching his arm off his suitcase, leaving it for the assistant to handle.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, I’m sorry!” Fabian yelped, obediently following Mazey on board while Mary Ann followed behind him.

Mazey dug around in her jacket pocket before passing the bus driver the fare for the three of them, then shot Fabian a dirty look as she pulled them into an empty row. “Fabian, what took you?”

“I’m sorry!” he snapped. “My parents have no sense of urgency and it was Cathilda’s day off today or something!”

Mazey sighed. “And you don’t have a watch or something?” She squinted at him. “Did you run here from your house?”

“Long story— never you mind,” he mumbled, looking around the bus, trying to get himself situated.

Pok patted him on the shoulder with an immaterial hand. “Hey— Fabian, look.”

He glanced over his shoulder, then tried to stifle a groan.

Sitting in the back row, temple resting against the glass window and looking like the epitome of academia in a full suit-and-tie ensemble, glasses, and a newsboy cap jammed on his curls, was—as if Fabian’s day couldn’t get any better—none other than Riz.

“Oh, great,” he muttered out loud. Pok looked like he was holding back a grin at his reaction. Fabian shot him a glare. What was he so smug about?

Mazey followed his gaze. “Oh,” she said, sounding exasperated. “Don’t you two start. It’s always about each other with you two.”

“What?” He turned to her. “What did he say about me?”

She sighed. “Nothing to worry yourself about. But can’t you two go a second without worrying about each other?”

Mary Ann leaned over the aisle. “Who’s that?”

Ignoring her, Fabian pressed on. “Mazey, I swear, he’s obsessed with me.”

“Glass houses,” Mazey replied, nudging him.

“He tracked me down to my house once.”

“Everybody knows where Seacaster Manor is, Fabian, it’s a giant pirate ship on the horizon.”

Fabian huffed, crossed his arms, and leaned back. “Whatever.” 

“Who’s that?” Mary Ann repeated.

“Riz Gukgak,” said Mazey. “He and Fabian are obsessed with each other—”

“—I am not —”

“—because Fabian beat him in a fight when they were kids.”

Mary Ann squinted at Fabian. “He beat you up at our last triad fight.”

“We know, Mary Ann,” Fabian snapped, sliding down in his seat.

Mazey shrugged. “Well… either way, Riz wouldn’t stop asking me about you for a while, and you wouldn’t stop bringing him up, so I feel like there’s something —”

“Attention, Aguefort summer course students!” A voice came over the speaker system of the bus, and Mazey quieted. “If I could have your attention at the front of the bus, please.”

Fabian looked toward the front, where a tall, strikingly beautiful dark-skinned young woman was standing next to her seat, speaking into a microphone. She had a plume of flame for hair and feathery, fiery wings that made it look uncomfortable to hunch in a bus. She also had bird-like feet and what looked like glowing, fiery eyes.

When the students on the bus settled into relative quiet, she spoke again. “Hello, everyone. My name is Ayda Aguefort. I will be one of the several youth leads of this course this week. I am not one of your fellow classmates, but you may recognize me, as, yes, your deranged principal Arthur Aguefort is in fact my father.”

“This is Aguefort’s daughter?” Fabian whispered to Mazey.

“Ayda? Yeah. She has sort of a weird relationship with her dad, but we see her around campus sometimes,” she replied. “Now be quiet.”

“We are on our way to the hotel you will be staying at during this summer course. While we await our destination, allow me to introduce our other youth lead on this bus.” She turned and gestured to someone sitting next to her. They had a quiet back-and-forth before a half-orc student with floppy dark hair and a shock of white in his bangs that dipped into his eyes, a gray hoodie, and a giant axe strapped to his back rose out of his seat, taking off his headphones and also hunching over in the low-ceilinged bus. “This is Gorgug Thistlespring.”

Gorgug waved, slightly awkwardly, as Ayda passed the microphone to him. “Hey, everybody. I’m Gorgug, upcoming junior, and I’ll be one of your youth leads this week. Uh… I’m excited to get to know you guys, and… uh, yeah, I’ll probably see you guys in barbarian classes, or maybe artificer classes… or just… around, during group classes.” He flashed a thumbs-up.

Ayda took the microphone. “You will meet other youth leads once we arrive at the hotel. Thank you, everybody. Carry on.”

Fabian nudged Mary Ann across the aisle. “Barbarian classes, huh?”

Mary Ann gave Gorgug a quick, bored-looking once-over. “He looks like a pushover.”

“He’s not— okay, I don’t know him that well, but from what I do know, he is pretty sweet, but I wouldn’t say a pushover,” Mazey said. “He’s an accomplished barbarian. Also really smart. He took two levels of artificer class at once last year because the barbarian teacher is a dick and wouldn’t let him take both at once. And he proceeded to basically spit in his teacher’s face by getting straight A’s in artificer class and inventing his own subclass, so…”

Mary Ann took another glance at Gorgug, then shrugged and returned to her Quokki Pet, looking uninterested.

“Wow. No wonder he’s a youth lead,” Fabian noted.

“Yeah, but he also hasn’t got a party, which has been pretty bad for his grades. He’s one of those students that had to form a triad to make up for lack of a party. Long story. Anyway, what do you think? You excited for an extensive training course?”

“About as excited as I can be when you put it that way. Hey, why aren’t you a youth lead?”

Mazey wrinkled her nose. “I was last year, but I wanted my summer more free this year. Also, y’know, to help you guys out with transitioning over to our school. Also, they needed less people this year because apparently Aguefort is trying to ‘connect with his daughter’ or something, which is why she’s a lead this year.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’d rather hang out with you guys.”

”Yeah… sucks that Fig and Adaine couldn’t come.” Fabian sighed. “I wonder how they’re doing.”

- - -

Adaine sat on her bed, eyes squeezed shut, trying to control her breathing.

She needed to calm down, needed to relax. Needed some sort of comfort, some sort of… familiarity. 

But her friends were at that summer course thing. And Fig was off doing whatever it was she was doing. And it wasn’t like anyone in her family was going to help her.

Inhale, exhale.

Maybe she should just… run away from home. Could she find it in her to do that? It’s not like she would particularly miss anything. But where would she live? Who would take her in? She could probably camp out somewhere, she had the spells for it, but it didn’t sound like a particularly pleasant experience. Plus, running away from home was something someone like Fig or even Fabian would do, not Adaine. 

She bent over and cradled her head in her hands. Fuck. She had to think of something. The prospect of being stuck here over the summer was going to make her throw up.

Her crystal vibrated, shaking her out of her thoughts for a moment.

A message from Fig. She quickly grabbed it.

FF: hey are you free can you call me

Curious, and panicked breathing subsiding, Adaine fumbled around until she managed to click the call button.

- - -

Bzzt. Bzzt.

Fig quickly sat up in bed. She hadn’t expected Adaine to see her message this quickly. She immediately pressed Accept Call .

“Hello?”

“Adaine!” Fig said brightly. “Hey!”

“…Hey. What’s going on?”

Fig frowned a little. Adaine sounded kind of breathless. “Are you good?”

A pause. “I’m fine. Why are you calling me?”

“Oh, just— um, a favor, if you wouldn’t mind.” She picked at a piece of lint on her skirt. “Uh… are you busy?”

“Not particularly?”

“Awesome. Uh… so… you know my… you know how I have… sort of… a weird… family thing? And don’t lie, everybody knows. You’re friends with Fabian, he knows literally all the gossip about everything.”

A small laugh. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“So… my… not dad, but, y’know, the guy I thought was my dad, Gilear, he… he wants to, sort of, reconnect with me or something. I don’t know. He invited me to get food or whatever with him at Krom’s Diner, and… uh… I thought it might be awkward with just the two of us and no buffer… and there was no way I was going to ask my mom to be there… and, y’know, all our other friends are at that camp thing… if you don’t mind, could you maybe come and… sort of be a shield?”

“You want me to go get dinner with you and your… pseudo-not-really-dad?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I can’t be your only option. Don’t you have those edgy goth band friends you hang out with?”

Fig frowned. “They’re not really my friends. Also, it’s punk, not goth, come on. Is that a no, Adaine?”

“No, no, I— it’s not a no. I’ll definitely go with you, if you want me to. I’m just… surprised.”

Fig blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. “I’m sorry I used to bully you. I’m… y’know, not a very openly emotional person, obviously, but I guess I took my identity change a little too hard, y’know? I used to be a super nice person, so I just sort of took a hard left, but that didn’t feel great either. I’m sorry. Anyway, could you please come buffer between me and my not-dad?”

Adaine laughed. “Okay. Apology accepted, and sure. Krom’s Diner, you said? What time?”

Fig sighed and grinned. “Later today, five-thirty. Don’t be late!”

“I won’t. See you!”

“Bye! See you then.” 

The call disconnected. Fig collapsed onto her bed, feeling relieved.

- - -

“Alright, everybody! Line up, stop moving around, we’re going to get you into rooms!” Gorgug called out, his voice magically amplified, presumably by Ayda. His commands managed to at least get some of the students milling around to hold still and wait for further instruction.

Ayda was going around the group passing out room keys. Students were grouping up in their rooming groups like they knew what they were doing, it seemed. Fabian looked around. “Uh… what am I supposed to do?”

Mazey, who had already recieved a card for herself and Mary Ann, shrugged while also searching around. “You’ll get assigned to someone else who doesn’t have a roommate once all this chaos is over.”

This news did not comfort Fabian, as, upon a quick scan of the crowd, he quickly began to realize that the only other person who didn’t seem to be grouping up with their friends was Riz, who was only about two feet away from Fabian. Which… hell, no.

Riz seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because his face twisted into a disconcerted frown as he spotted Fabian nearby and Gorgug began to approach the two of them.

“Hey,” the youth lead said, “uh… it looks like you two are the only ones without roommates…”

Fabian and Riz glanced at each other. From the hardened way Riz’s eyes flashed, Fabian decided that he was probably in actual danger rooming with him. He opened his mouth to try and make up some kind of excuse, but Gorgug spoke up, cutting him off, eyes shifting from Fabian to Riz and back again.

“I— I was going to ask if one of you wouldn’t mind, uh, getting your own room,” he said quickly. “There’s— the youth leads got individual rooms, but mine— they gave me a medium- and smallfolk room by accident, and, uh… obviously, I wouldn’t, y’know, fit— speaking from experience.” He offered a slightly nervous, lopsided grin. “So… would one of you mind sharing with me while the other rooms alone? Is that… I can make do, but…”

“I can,” Riz said quietly before Fabian could say anything. “Uh, room alone, I mean.” He looked about as relieved as Fabian felt.

“Awesome.” Gorgug handed a keycard to Riz, who nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact, and, without even acknowledging Fabian, melted into the crowd like a fucking shadow. Gorgug turned to Fabian, holding up another card. “Guess we’re rooming together, man. I’m Gorgug.” He held out a hand.

Fabian, not quite having processed what just happened, shook it. “Hey, I’m— I’m Fabian. Seacaster.”

Something like recognition clicked in Gorgug’s eyes, and he nodded as if realizing something. “Ah… and that was… Riz Gukgak.”

Fabian cringed a little. “Yeah. How did you—”

“Oh— well, adventuring rumors— it’s— it’s complicated. Anyway, uh… guess we better get to know each other, huh?” He grinned a little, then glanced over at Ayda, who was now corralling the students into the hotel and instructing them to pick up their luggage and get to their rooms. “Think we’d better go up to and unpack.”

“Yeah. Hey, it’s— it’s nice to meet you, man.”

Gorgug nodded. “Nice to meet you, too.”

- - -

Adaine looked around when she got to the entrance of the diner, then glanced back at her texts.

AA: where are you?

Just as she sent the text, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She yelped and whirled around.

“Relax, it’s just me,” said Fig. “Now shh.”

“Why are we being quiet?” Adaine asked, hushed, as Fig dragged her into the diner.

“Because we’re stealthing.”

“…Why?”

“Just sit down.” Fig manhandled Adaine into a booth, and she obediently slid in.

Fig slid in next to her. “Gilear’s in the bathroom. I told him you’d get here soon. Hopefully that’s okay—thanks so much for coming here at such a late notice.”

“Hey, no problem. It’s not like my parents care what I do anyway.” Adaine picked up the menu and scanned it. “And then I’ll get home and they’ll pretend to and get all cold and angry and disappointed as if they wouldn’t be the exact same if I hadn’t gone anywhere.”

“Jeez,” Fig said, wrinkling her nose. Then she looked up. “Oh—Gilear, you’re back!” Look who just got here!”

Adaine looked up and followed Fig’s gaze to see the saddest, most tired elf she’d ever seen in her life. His green shirt was stained at the hem and a few strands of blond hair were falling out of his comb-over. He was also, for some reason, dripping wet. “Daughter… I tried to use the toilet facilities in this diner, but unfortunately I found the toilet paper stuck to my shoe, and in my haste to remove it I slipped on the tile floor and landed with my head in the sink, and I couldn’t get myself unstuck from under the faucet…”

“Gilear— look who just got here!” Fig quickly interrupted, gesturing to Adaine, who waved awkwardly.

Gilear turned to her. “Ah. You must be Adaine. My daughter speaks highly of you.”

Adaine glanced at Fig, who spluttered. “I—I’ve only said, like, two things about her to— Adaine, this is Gilear. He’s… yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Adaine nodded politely. “I’m, uh, Fig’s classmate. And she was in my adventuring club.”

“And she’s my friend,” Fig added, shooting Adaine a look. “Uh— are we all ready to order?”

Fig ordered a stack of pancakes and, her strange specialty, cottage cheese à la mode. Adaine took a bowl of chicken soup. Gilear ordered some kind of curdled lemon yogurt thing, which Fig didn’t blink twice at, so Adaine ignored it.

The meal passed relatively like this: Gilear would make tentative conversation, Fig would cut in with an expression that seemed to be prompting Adaine to say something, Adaine would respond the best she could in as few words as possible, Fig would segue from that, Gilear would somehow figure out how to connect what she said to some sad and pathetic and long-winded story from his life, and Adaine would struggle to decide whether to laugh or feel pity, and they would settle into an awkward silence before it all started again.

Each story Gilear shared began to get more and more alarming. Fig looked a little concerned, but ultimately unsurprised by most of the details. Adaine honestly could not tell whether things were going well or not.

“Darling Figueroth, I— I believe we should address… the elephant in the room, if you will.”

Adaine tried to make herself small as she drank her soup and left the conversation up to them.

Fig was quiet, so Gilear continued. “I… wanted to talk to you ever since my outburst at your mother’s home. I have regretted it since. I hope you know this.”

Fig shrugged. “You told me that I wasn’t your child anymore.”

“And that is the greatest mistake I have ever made in my sad life,” Gilear insisted. “And one time, I accidentally thanked the barista that served me my coffee too quietly, and she mistook my quiet appreciation for a derisive comment made under my breath, and she became so angry that she mocked me and demanded that I serve the next customer, and so I subsequently—“

“I think I get it,” Fig said quickly.

“My point being,” Gilear continued, unfazed, “that I have made many great mistakes in my life. But none as great as abandoning you.”

Fig didn’t look at Gilear, instead stirring her half-melted ice cream deeper into her cottage cheese. “It’s… been, like, three years,” she muttered. “And I’m going to a new school. I guess I might as well restart.” 

Adaine suddenly stood up. “E-excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, I— I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Fig blinked up at her, then quickly slid out of the booth to let her through. She rushed to the bathroom, dragged open the door, and slammed it shut, locking herself inside before sliding to the floor.

- - -

“So, uh, this is our room,” Gorgug said as he swiped his keycard against the lock and pushed open the door to reveal a relatively generic hotel room. “Need help with your stuff or anything?”

“I got it,” Fabian said, holding the door open so Gorgug could enter with his stuff first before he wheeled his suitcase in. Despite not needing to, he also held it just a little longer so Pok could make his way through. The angel offered him a wry nod.

“Hotel sweet hotel,” said Gorgug, sitting down. “This your first time here? I’ve never seen you at Aguefort, I don’t think. Are you a senior?”

“Junior,” Fabian corrected. “I started school late.”

“Oh. Fun. Same. Not the starting school part, the, uh— I’m also a junior. I mean, you knew that, but yeah.” Gorgug grinned as he crouched down to the ground to unpack his suitcase. Fabian mirrored him. “This is my first time staffing, actually. It’s cool that you’re here. I remember reading about you a few years back.”

“I’ve noticed.” Fabian winced a little as he glanced at Pok over Gorgug’s shoulder. “Thanks for having my back earlier. That could have been really awkward.”

“Oh— was my cover lie really that unbelievable?” Gorgug grinned sheepishly. “I just noticed you guys had some tension, or whatever. Thought maybe it would be better to get between it, I just… didn’t realize you guys were… well, you guys. Anyway— you excited for camp? To start at Aguefort?”

“I’m really excited, actually,” Fabian admitted truthfully. “Everything seems awesome. How is it?”

“Cool— you form a party, fight alongside them, do quests and battles all year, it’s cool. But you learn normal stuff too. Like Common and whatever. There are sports on the side, I’m on the bloodrush team— but yeah, the main attraction is the battling.” Gorgug shook his head as he pulled more things out of his suitcase, then shut it again. “It’s ass when you don’t have a party, though. I was in a triad with my gi— with my ex-girlfriend and my friend Kristen last year, but she graduated early—my ex, not Kristen—and now we need a party.”

“What about that Ayda girl?”

Gorgug smiled. “Ayda’s awesome. Unfortunately she’s not a student, so she doesn’t count. Can you imagine? Your sort-of estranged dad being your school principal?”

“What’s up with her and Aguefort?”

“It’s a long story. Too long for today.” Gorgug started pulling on the blanket and fluffing the pillows. “We have to go to training soon, but I could catch you up sometime.”

“Sounds awesome.” Fabian was really starting to like this kid. “And thanks, again, for the Riz thing.”

“Oh, no problem. I wanted a roommate, anyway.” Gorgug flashed him a kind grin.

- - -

Fig bit her lip in concern as she knocked on the bathroom door. “Adaine? Are you okay in there?”

Muffled through the door and shaky, Adaine’s voice came through: “I’m fine, I’m just… having a very small and very manageable panic attack.”

“Uh… that doesn’t sound fine.” Fig shifted her weight from foot to foot, frowning, trying to decide how to deal with this. “Can I come in?”

Silence. Fig cursed quietly and started to think whether she knew any spells that could unlock doors, before—

“Yeah,” Adaine said. The doorknob rattled. “It’s unlocked.”

With no hesitation, Fig pulled open the door and slipped inside.

Adaine was sitting on the ground next to the door, her skirt pulled over her knees, eyes closed, forehead resting on her arms, breathing quickliy. “I’m so— so sorry… this is— supposed to be about you and your dad, you shouldn’t— you shouldn’t be here worrying about me—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Fig interrupted. She locked the door behind her and squatted down by Adaine’s side. “First of all—not my dad. We haven’t gotten there yet. Second of all, are you, like, good ? It’s okay to not be okay.”

Adaine shook her head breathlessly, reaching up to tear a hand through her hair. “I’m— fine, this just— this happens sometimes, it’s— not a big deal, I just… I just have to breathe and wait for it to end.”

“So, wait, does this— this happens often?” Fig asked worriedly. “I mean— isn’t there, like, treatment for this kind of shit?”

Adaine laughed almost derisively. “Where w— where would I get treatment ?”

“Your… parents don’t…?”

“Why the fuck would my parents give a fucking shit about— about—” Adaine cut herself off to close her eyes and take in choppy breaths. “I’m— sorry. I’m so sorry. This is stupid, I’m— you’re supposed to be—”

Fig hesitantly reached and gripped Adaine’s shoulder. “Hey. Hey, uh— breathe. Breathe with me.”

Adaine closed her eyes and reached up to grab Fig’s wrist, and Fig fumbled her way through helping Adaine take deep, slow, grounding breaths. This was what you do during a panic attack, right? You help them breathe? Fig kicked herself for not being sure, she’d have to look more into this if this was supposed to be something that happened often…

Her thoughts were interrupted when Adaine collapsed into her side, breathing slowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t— don’t be sorry, Adaine.” Fig slowly draped an arm around Adaine’s shoulders. “Hey, so— what was that about your parents?”

Adaine sighed tiredly. “I just… my family sucks . They don’t care what I do or what happens to me, all they care about is my bitch sister, but they’re still so controlling of literally everything , they wouldn’t let me go to adventuring camp just because they don’t want me to enjoy myself, they’re always saying that I’m a disappointment, it’s— I just— I’m so tired of it.”

“Wow,” Fig said quietly. “And I thought my family was shitty.”

“I’m sorry, I— I shouldn’t have made this about me.”

“Hey, no, it’s— it’s okay, I don’t mind. Your family— you don’t deserve that.” Fig did her best to pat Adaine’s back in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Hey, you know what you should do? You should run away from home.”

Adaine snorted. “Yeah, and go where?”

Fig shrugged. “I don’t know, but… I’d run away with you. I’ve always wanted to run away from home, live out in the wild. We could hang out all the time!”

“Yeah, and worry about feeding ourselves twenty-four seven.” Adaine shook her head. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Fig frowned. She hadn’t even thought about that part.

Adaine didn’t deserve this. No one did. Shitty parents who didn’t even care about her, hurtful comments so often Adaine had internalized them as normal activity, not even giving her support for her panic attacks…

Maybe Gilear and her mom weren’t as bad as she thought. At least they were trying.

Fig squeezed Adaine’s shoulder. “Let’s… hang out here for a bit, and we can head outside whenever we want, okay? My dad won’t mind.”

Adaine had a curious look in her eye when she said that, although Fig had no idea what she could possibly be making that face for. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Adaine rested her head on Fig’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

- - -

“So… who’s that?” Fabian asked as he sidled up next to Mazey and Mary Ann, branching off from Gorgug, who took his place at the front where the other instructors were gathering. Fabian gestured to the guy who appeared to be the head, standing at a podium while everyone else stood to the side.

Mazey sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s Dayne Blayde. He’s the worst. He got held back two years and graduated last year, and he just honestly gets on everybody’s nerves. He’s always hazing the younger students, I’m so glad he’s gone, but he’s doing this as a last-minute thing before college because someone dropped out. It’s stupid.”

Fabian gave the blonde dude a once-over. “He looks like kind of a dick, I guess.”

“He looks like you from three years ago,” Mazey joked.

He shoved her lightly in the shoulder before sitting down.

“Alright, guys, settle down,” announced Dayne, setting down a travel mug on his podium before leaning forward and rubbing his hands together as the students milling about found seats at the desks and sat down. “Welcome to Aguefort Academy’s summer training camp! Hoot, growl!”

The students, with varying levels of enthusiasm, echoed back the call. 

“I’m your lead instructor, Dayne,” he continued, doing a little bow, “and these guys back here’ll be my assistant teachers.”

Gorgug waved at Fabian discreetly from the line of instructors as they began individually introducing themselves.

“Why’s this lead guy such a dick again?” Fabian asked Mazey while waving back.

“He was just a huge bully to his underclassmen,” she muttered. “And he’s an idiot, too. The only reason he’s popular is his girlfriend, and she was involved in some shady shit. Anyway, she graduated before him and he spent the last two years just being an ass to everybody.”

Dayne cleared his throat as, evidently, the introductions were complete. “Alright, guys, today we’re just going to split you guys up into groups. Class-based classes are tomorrow, get in groups of, like, five or six and grab an instructor.”

Mazey stood up and grabbed Mary Ann. “Alright, Fabian, you just stay here and watch our table, and we’ll go find some other people to complete our group. Grab Gorgug.”

“Okay.” Fabian leaned back in his seat.

Pok materialized next to Fabian as the noise picked up and students began walking around finding groups. “Hey, kid.”

“I’m not asking Riz to join my group, drop it.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask, but now that you mention it—”

“No.”

Pok shrugged. “Alright, well, what I was going to say was, just look at all these adventurers here. These are going to be your classmates in the upcoming school year. You’re going to be surrounded by all these spirited kids.”

Fabian glanced around. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

Mazey emerged back with two sophomore students. “Hey! We’ve got a team of five!”

Gorgug appeared behind him, as well. “Hey, roommate. Can I join you guys?”

“Please do.” Fabian pulled some chairs out from the table so the newcomers could all sit down. “Hey, Gorgug, is it true this Dayne guy’s an asshole?”

Gorgug shrugged. “It’s not really a professional time to talk about that… but between you and me, kind of.” Then he cleared his throat and turned to the group. “Alright, guys, we don’t need to do anything too crazy today, Dayne just said we could chat, maybe do a practice fight, and then you guys can go back and get settled the rest of the day before the training really starts tomorrow.” He glanced at each of them. “So… yeah. Do any of you guys have any questions?”

The five of them all looked at each other expectantly before turning back to Gorgug.

“Right. Okay. That’s fine. Then, uh… I guess we could do a practice fight?” He looked around hopefully.

The sophomores shrank significantly in their seats. 

“I’ll do it,” Mary Ann said without looking up from her Quokki Pet, which she had somehow dug out of her backpack without anyone noticing. Fabian wondered how long she’d ever gone without playing with it.

“Okay!” Gorgug stood up, and Mary Ann reluctantly put her toy down and stood up as well. The height difference was almost comical. “Cool, yeah. And your name is…”

“Mary Ann.”

“Got it! So, I assume you know how to set up for a fight, all the basics…”

Mary Ann nodded.

Gorgug looked relieved. “Okay, so, uh, our group is going to take a quick field trip to a practice room, if you guys don’t mind. Everyone up.” He gestured for the group to stand up and did his best to herd them along to a room across the hall.

Mary Ann dug around in her backpack.

“What are you looking for?” Fabian asked her under his breath.

She didn’t answer until she pulled out a metal can and popped it open. “Mango soda.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows suspiciously as a puff of hissing smoke emerged from the can. “That’s not mango soda.”

She shrugged cryptically and drank from the can. “It’s the next best thing.”

Fabian shared a glance with Pok as he suddenly remembered what the angel had said about strength-enhancing potions. “Okay, you know what, I don’t think I need to know that badly.” He caught back up to Mazey as they lined up along the wall and Gorgug and Mary Ann approached the center of gym. “Why do I feel like this isn’t going to end well?”

“Okay,” Gorgug said as they faced each other in the center of the room, “I think something that can be really important to learn early on is hand-to-hand combat. Our weapons are important and all, especially for, like, competitive one-on-one battling, but, y’know, in group settings, or in actual real-life adventures, we can’t always rely on having them. Mary Ann, would you mind helping me demonstrate?”

Mary Ann shrugged and slid her axe off her back. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Gorgug held up three fingers. “I’m going to count us in. Three… two… one.”

Gorgug’s instincts were quick, but not quite quick enough for the surprise that was Mary Ann Skuttle— he got in the first punch, swinging his fist, but Mary Ann ducked out of his reach easily and pummeled him right in the stomach so hard, Gorgug went flying across the room, slamming into the wall and falling to the floor. The fight was, as Fabian had half-expected, half-dreaded, over in less than five seconds.

All four of the spectators cringed at the impact. Even Pok winced.

Fabian sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah… she did that to Fig the first time they fought, too,” he muttered to Mazey under his breath.

She grimaced at him, and they watched as Mary Ann dusted herself off, unbothered, and walked away as Gorgug gingerly lifted himself back onto his feet.

“Right,” he grunted, “uh… yeah. Clear win to you.” He frowned as he pressed a hand to his side. “Uh… you guys are dismissed.”

The two sophomore students glanced at each other awkwardly before leaving without a word. Mazey rushed over to grab Mary Ann. 

“We should probably help Gorgug out,” Fabian muttered to Pok. “Come on.” 

He jogged to the opposite arm and offered his arm to Gorgug while Pok followed behind. “Hey, man, that looked rough.”

“Happens,” Gorgug said weakly, gratefully leaning on Fabian’s shoulders for support. “I shouldn’t have… underestimated her… she your friend?”

“Yeah, kind of. She’s a bit of a menace. Sorry about that.”

“Mm.” Gorgug grunted in pain. “Let’s just get back to the dorm.”

- - -

Gorgug decided to take a shower after Fabian managed to help him back into the dorm. Fabian sighed as he flopped onto the bed on his side of the room. He glanced up at Pok. “So? Training starts tomorrow, bright and early. Should be fun, right?”

“Fun and interesting,” Pok agreed, floating slightly above Fabian’s sightline. “And it starts bright and early tomorrow, too. Better set your alarm clock.” He grinned, leaned over and reached for Fabian’s nightstand, then frowned when his hand phased through the clock. “Right. Old habits.” 

“I got it.” Fabian grabbed the clock and programmed in the wake-up time. When he was finished, he glanced over at the bathroom door, checking the running water would drown out the conversation. “Hey, uh, this might be a bad time, but… I was just kind of wondering. Do you mind if I ask… how did you die?”

Pok sighed, long and slow, and flew over to sit next to Fabian on the bed. “Oh, wow. Okay. Look, Fabian, I— if I’m being completely honest here, I think I was a good man. I lived a good life, I had a wonderful wife and wonderful son. My one regret was that I was kind of a workaholic. Adventuring gives me a sort of joy you can’t really get anywhere else. Sklonda, my wife, she— she’s just as excellent at it all as I am, but she easily traded it to settle down when we had Riz. It wasn’t so easy for me.” Pok frowned in silence for a few moments, before continuing, “I took Riz to the battle gym, I kept going on adventures, taking commissions for them. I died in an adventure. A fight against a dragon. Nothing crazy, nothing special, just some dragon.” Pok shook his head and looked away, up, at nothing in particular, something only he could see. “That’s my biggest regret, I think. That I didn’t spend more time making real connections and just spending time with my family instead of seeking out adventure after adventure.”

“Oh.” Fabian wished Pok was corporeal enough for an arm pat or something comforting. “I’m sorry.” He thought for a moment, frowning at his hands, then said slowly. “You know, in the stories, people whose souls stay on the earth after they die are often like that because they have unfinished business.” He looked up at Pok. “Do you think that’s your unfinished business? And my job is to help you reconnect with your family?”

“I’ve hypothesized,” Pok admitted. “Maybe this is supposed to be my second chance at life.”

“Wow. Well, sorry your second chance at life is a guy your son hates,” Fabian said.

Pok laughed. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Pok smiled and shook his head. “He doesn’t. But it’s okay, I don’t mind too much. I mean, even if my purpose here is to connect with my family, fulfilling my purpose would mean leaving you behind. And I don’t want to do that when there’s so much more to teach you.” He cocked his head, grinning wider. “He’ll notice you. He’s going to have to eventually.”

“Yeah, well, keep hoping.” Fabian flopped back onto the bed, hands behind his head. “This is going to be a pretty crazy summer, isn’t it?”

“You’ll get through it,” Pok promised. “Or, I should say, we’ll get through it. I’m more than just here to spectate, you know.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Pok raised his eyebrows and half-smiled before promptly becoming invisible.

Fabian sat up abruptly. “Hey! You said you’d help me! You’d better follow through!”

There was no audible answer, but Fabian could swear he heard faint laughter on the wind, or maybe the back of his mind.

Chapter Text

The first few days of the training sessions passed just fine. The mornings were early and the fights were plenty, but Fabian didn’t mind any of it too much, except maybe the occasional snide comment from Dayne about his ‘incompetent’ instructors, or the weird energy of building rivalry emanating from Gorgug and Mary Ann.

“I can’t,” Mazey mumbled to Fabian as she dragged Mary Ann from yet another tense argument with the half-orc instructor. “I just can’t. First you and Riz, now her and Gorgug. I just can’t anymore. This is ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Fabian protested, “I haven’t even mentioned Riz since the first day.”

“Like I haven’t noticed you staring at him all the time,” Mazey muttered. “Just… stay out of trouble, both of you.”

“What trouble?” Mary Ann asked.

Mazey sighed. “I give up. Do what you want.”

Despite it all, Fabian found he liked hanging out with Gorgug a lot, and the three of them often sought him out to sit together at lunch or for group activities. Since Gorgug was apparently great friends with Ayda, this meant they spent a lot of time getting to know her as well. 

“Yes, the name Seacaster is familiar,” she noted when they first properly met. “Hard not to have heard of it, growing up on Leviathan.”

“Oh, Leviathan!” Fabian exclaimed. “I haven’t been there in years!” He turned to his other friends. “It’s this amazing pirate city. You’re a pirate, Ayda?”

Ayda nodded earnestly. “Yes, of sorts, although I would firstmost consider myself a librarian. I am the mistress of the Compass Points library on Leviathan, although I have been taking many breaks from that occupation in order to accompany my father.”

So, yes, despite Ayda’s peculiarities, Fabian decided he liked Ayda a lot as well.

Dayne Blayde, on the other hand, was starting to be about as insufferable as Mazey had warned he would be. His battle strategy classes were monotonous and often filled with bragging or muttered throwaway comments about the other instructors, and it was clear he loved the sound of his own voice more than anything else. 

“Alright, nerds.” Dayne rubbed his hands together and leaned on his podium. “Hands-on activity next.” He picked up a marker, uncapped it, and started writing on the whiteboard behind him. “You’re with your basic party of four that we’ve outlined. Let’s say you’re infiltrating a bandit hideout in order to recover a stolen artifact. No outside help, just the party. Security is tight, and the bandits have got hostages. You’ve got ten minutes before they move the artifact. What’s your approach?”

Fabian blew out a breath, twirling a pencil as he glanced at the others at his table. Mary Ann was scribbling who-knows-what in her notebook. Mazey raised her eyebrows at him as they made eye contact, as if challenging him to give his input.

He turned back to the board, trying to piece out a plan in his head.

“Ah! Looks like we’ve got a brave soul. Come on up!” Dayne snapped his fingers and pointed across the room at a raised hand. Fabian caught Mazey rolling her eyes from across the table, and he was about to share a smirk with her when he spotted who was walking to the front.

Riz was fidgeting with his claws as he slowly approached the whiteboard. “Well… you should focus on collecting intel first.” He picked up a marker, uncapped it, and scanned the board for a moment before he started marking Dayne’s diagram. “You’ve got a rogue who can watch the guard rotation, go in and scout for the location of the artifact.”

Fabian sighed as he turned back to his notebook. “Here we go,” he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately, he was not as out of earshot as he thought he was. Dayne turned to him. “Hold on there. Mr. Seacaster? You got something to say about all this?”

Riz glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. 

Shit. Now people were glancing Fabian’s way, giving him looks.

He could have just shook his head and let Riz continue. But where was the fun in that?

He shared a quick look with Mazey, who looked exasperated, then Pok, who mostly just looked amused. “Well? You think you’ve got a better plan?” the angel asked, leaning back.

He turned back to the board, then steeled himself and stood up from his seat. Why not?

“Alright! A challenger? What’s your opinion on this, Fabian?” Dayne tossed him a marker, and Fabian caught it. 

Fabian let out a long sigh as he scanned the board. “Waiting to get intel back from the rogue will take too long. You’re on a time limit.” He picked up his own marker. “It would make more sense to make a distraction to draw attention to the front entrance while others break in through the back. Then, through the chaos, sneak in through the side, retrieve the artifact, boom. Done.”

“Right.” Riz’s voice was clipped as he stepped forward and made his own markings on Fabian’s sketch. “Except what if they hear the commotion at the front, see through it, grab the artifact and take off, and kill the hostages to lighten the load?” He drew a slash in red ink through the stick figures marking the hostages.

“If we act fast enough, they’ll be disoriented.”

“This isn’t disorienting. That’s just flashy.” Riz started drawing again, pushing Fabian out of the way. “The rogue can bring back information, or even better, a familiar. Now we have the location, guard rotation, and hostage information down. The bard or wizard can Disguise Self as a hostage, let themselves get caught— now we have a man on the inside. Someone under invisibility can sneak in while all this is happening. They can cast an illusion spell, replace the artifact with a decoy. On a predetermined signal, maybe a familiar or a Glyph of some sort, the team takes out the guard with an inconspicuous Sleep spell. Team on the outside grabs the artifact. Guys on the inside help the hostages out. No alarms, no one dies, done in a matter of minutes.”

“What if they see through the illusion or the disguise?” Fabian challenged. 

“They won’t,” Riz said confidently. “Our team’s full of strong spellcasters. And I can’t imagine a couple of goons they send to guard the artifact has particularly high intelligence. If the disguise plan fails, though, at least a spellcaster’s covering the hostages, which are the first priority. Teleport them out, they’re safe.”

“And what if your sleep spell fails?”

“If anything fails, I improvise. I don’t need to stick to the script to win, unlike some people. I adapt.”

Fabian felt an inexplicable heat spike in his chest, making him unreasonably angry. “Oh, you adapt? Is that why you spent six years hung up on the same fight?”

Riz’s eyes flashed. The emotion was so brief, some kind of hurt and anger and surprise that Fabian didn’t have the time to read. But his voice was steady and cool when he replied. “Yeah. I adapt. I move on as soon as I realize something’s not worth my time or energy.”

“Alright, alright, break it up, dudes, break it up,” Dayne interrupted, stepping in between the two of them smoothly before Fabian could muster up a reply. “Phew, alright, alright, some complicated feelings there, yeah, man? Interesting plan, Seacaster, but Gukgak’s got a point— flashiness means nothing when it’s just reckless without something solid to back it up. And improvisation’s key to good adventuring. Thank you guys for volunteering, now take your seats.”

Fabian resisted the urge to snipe back as he slowly recapped his marker, put it down, and returned to his table.

“That was hard to watch,” said Mary Ann. Mazey shot her a look before patting Fabian on the arm as he sat down.

“I liked your plan,” she said encouragingly, but Fabian just shook his head.

“Why does he only decide to act like a competent teacher when it’s to rub how much better at this shit Riz is in my face?” Fabian muttered under his breath.

Mazey laughed lightly, then shook her head. “It’s okay, Fabian. It’s just getting showed up in class, don’t be petty.”

Fabian rubbed at his forehead, barely paying attention as Dayne continued on with his lecture. “He’s better than me, and he knows it. He really does hate me.” He glanced at Pok, waiting for him to protest the statement as usual. When he didn’t, Fabian raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

Pok shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you otherwise. But you know what I think.”

“Yeah, well, he’s doing a great job of showing me he doesn’t hate me,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the girls to make sure they didn’t see him apparently talking to himself. “He’s way ahead of me.”

“That’s no way to think about it. You’ll catch up to him. You can’t lose hope that quickly. It’s not the makings of a true adventurer.”

“Hmm.” Fabian rested his face on his hand and tuned back into class. 

- - -

“Why,” groaned Fabian as Gorgug pulled open the curtains early Friday morning. 

Gorgug laughed. “Hey, c’mon, man, rise and shine. The excursion’s today.”

“The what now?” Fabian struggled to sit up while holding up a hand, trying to block the sunlight streaming in from his eyes.

“The excursion?” Gorgug looked at him patiently. Fabian noticed that he was already fully dressed, which, the fuck? “We’ve been talking about it for a while now. We split you guys up into groups, visit the town? There’s all sorts of cool historical sites and magical monuments around here, and museums and shit, too, it’s really fucking cool— you don’t remember?”

“I remember,” Fabian mumbled, rubbing aggressively at his eyes. 

Pok chose that moment to materialize by his side, sitting on the end of the bed. Fabian jumped, startled. “Jesus fucking— don’t do that!”

Pok winced and mouthed sorry, while Gorgug frowned. “Do what?”

It was too early in the morning for Fabian to try and find excuses to justify his talking to himself. “I, uh— just don’t— don’t fucking open the curtains so early, gods, the sun is blinding me.” He blinked a few times and threw the blankets off of himself before reaching for his bedside lamp and turning the light on.

“Oh. Sorry.” Gorgug went for the curtains and closed them again. Meanwhile, Pok turned to him from where he was sitting.

“So? You excited?”

“Mmm,” Fabian mumbled.

“This could be a great break from classes.” He looked more excited than usual as he nudged Fabian in the side. “I used to come visit this place with Sklonda all the time. The shops and monuments are wonderful. Always wished I could take Riz here. Glad he’s found his way to this place anyway.”

“Sounds great.” Fabian climbed out of bed. “Would sound better if I wasn’t so fucking tired. I’m going to go get dressed.”

- - -

“Alright, guys, welcome to my group!” Gorgug said brightly later that day as they unloaded off the bus. Fabian looked around as he followed Mazey and Mary Ann down the steps, relieved that Riz apparently had not been sorted into his group. “There are very few rules today, alright? There’s some amazing spots to check out around here, tons of museums, sites, trails, shopping places. Lots of adventuring history to explore. We trust you all to get yourselves lunch, form groups; just get back here by three in the afternoon, got it?”

The group made sounds of acknowledgement and began to disperse. Fabian scanned his provided pamphlet as he slowly walked in an indeterminate direction. “See anything you particularly want to see?” he asked Pok under his breath as he trailed his finger down the front page full of photographs.

“So much to do, so little time,” Pok hummed, hovering over his shoulder. “You know… there is one really beautiful site in the Wulu Mountains that I think you’d like to see. If you don’t mind doing some hiking.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yep. Used to go there with my wife on dates all the time. It’s a nice little magic clearing down a pretty niche trail.” Pok pointed Fabian in the direction of the trailhead where a few curious students were gathered, checking out the maps. “It’s not that hard to get to, but it’s cloaked by a thin layer of illusory magic so that you have to know exactly which bush to go through to escape. I know it pretty well, though, and I think you won’t be disappointed by the view.”

“Huh.” Fabian flipped through the packet again, and, when nothing else caught his eye, he tucked it into his pocket. “Alright. Let’s check out the cool magic clearing, then.”

Pok smiled, then led Fabian down a cool, shaded, secluded trail, landing on the ground to ‘walk’ alongside him. “This place sure brings back memories. I think I haven’t been around here in more than a decade.”

Fabian looked at the tall hedges bordering the path. “What’s your wife like?”

Pok sighed. “Sklonda. Wonderful woman. Talented adventurer, amazing markswoman. She gave up adventuring for Riz way more easily than I did, but not before she made a pretty strong name for herself. We’d come here as teenagers as I desperately tried to get her to like me.”

“Aw. That’s pretty romantic.”

“I wasn’t exactly the most charming guy in my high school years,” Pok admitted, shaking his head. He put out a hand as if he could feel the leaves of the hedges brushing against his fingers. “But I like to say this place was a good find. Not a whole lot know about it.”

“How’d you find it?”

Pok grinned mysteriously. “A good rogue doesn’t reveal his secrets.”

Fabian sighed. “I’ll get it out of you one day. So why’s this place so magical?”

“See for yourself.” Pok slowed his walk as he came to a large slab of faintly glowing wood carved with delicate calligraphy.

“Nice penmanship,” Fabian remarked, brushing over the words with his fingertips. According to the text, the clearing was enchanted by some mysterious natural phenomenon, perhaps as a holy place to some nature god or spirit, with an illusory spell that shifted across hundreds of years, changing perceptibly about every ten, meaning that those who weren’t careful when entering could find themselves trapped in it indefinitely. However, those who knew the way—or were just extremely lucky—could easily navigate their way out. Regardless, the sights to be seen there were beautiful.

“This is so cool,” Fabian said. “Well? You know how to exit?”

“Know this place like the back of my hand.” Pok nodded at the clearing’s entrance, the slightest wedge between tall, leafy bushes. Following his lead, Fabian slid in.

It was, in fact, one of the most beautiful places in nature Fabian had ever seen, even during his childhood on the high seas. The sky was bright and blue overhead, the grass was lush, and the stones were crystalline. A circle of them enclosed an area of gravel that looked perfect for a spar. Trees were scattered around, some heavily laden with bright fruit.

“Damn,” Fabian said under his breath. “How is this just… hidden on a random mountain trail?”

“Magic is a strange thing,” Pok said cryptically.

“And you’re sure you won’t tell me how you found this place?”

Pok simply shrugged.

Fabian sighed. “Suit yourself.” He looked around, marveling at the little clearing’s beauty. He stopped in front of a sturdy young oak that looked…newer, in a sense, than everything else nearby, where everything but the grass seemed old and wise and timeless.

“Oh my gods. This is still here,” he heard Pok gasp behind him, and he turned.

“Is there something special about this tree?” he asked, looking from Pok to the tree’s leaves, back at Pok.

It was a bit hard to tell on the translucent ghost, but Pok’s eyes looked slightly misty. “We planted this. My wife and I.”

“Oh.” Fabian turned back to the tree, wide-eyed. It did look pretty young for an oak, perhaps around ten years. “Wow, that’s… so lovely. Especially that it lasted this long.”

“Yeah,” Pok murmured. “I missed this place. We used to spar here, and watch the stars at night. That big rock there, too, made a great table, sometimes we’d play chess or Go here. We planted this tree so we’d have more shade if we ever came back here to fight again, because it’s so beautiful here during the summer but it’s swelteringly hot. I guess we never were able to, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Pok tilted his head and smiled softly at Fabian. “That was a long time ago. And I’m glad I could come back here with you. If you’d like, we could just… sit here awhile? Enjoy the sun?”

Fabian hummed in approval as he scoped out the large table-like rock Pok had pointed out, then sat on the grass near it. “Sounds like a plan.”

- - -

Gorgug frowned as he flipped through the pages on his clipboard. He looked back up at the crowd of students in front of him, then back down at his papers. Twenty six students. He was missing one, and it was fifteen minutes past the meeting time.

He scanned the students again, who all looked like they wanted to get out of the mid-afternoon heat, then looked over his shoulder at the bus. He had to make a decision, and quickly.

He clapped his hands together. “Alright guys, uh, most of you are back, so let’s board the bus and send the first group of people back.” 

It didn’t take too long to herd the students into a line to board the bus, thank the gods. Gorgug scanned the faces again and brightened when he spotted two girls standing near the end of the line. 

“Hey!” He jogged over to Mazey and Mary Ann. “Hey, uh— hey, guys— were you guys with Fabian?”

Mary Ann didn’t look up from her crystal. “No.”

Mazey immediately looked concerned. “No, he went off on his own… is he—?”

“He’s missing— never mind, it’s fine.” Gorgug blew out a breath and raked through his hair. “It’s alright, I was just wondering if you two knew anything— I’ll wait for him here, you guys can get on the bus.”

“No, we’ll— we’ll stay! We can help you look for him. Right, Mary Ann?” Mazey patted her friend on the shoulder.

Mary Ann let out a long, tired sigh, but she turned off her crystal and tucked it away. “Yeah, okay.” She gave Gorgug an uncomfortable once-over. “You need the help.”

“Okay.” Gorgug tried to ignore the flare of frustration that seemed to always come from interacting with this girl. “Well. That’s— thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” As the last few students finished getting onto the bus, Gorgug waved and nodded at the bus driver. “You can take them back,” he called with a thumbs up. “I’m going to take these guys to look for the last student.”

He blew out a breath as he turned back to the girls. “Alright. Do you guys have any idea where he went?” 

Predictably, neither of them did. He sighed again. 

“Alright. I’m going to call Ayda.”

- - -

Fabian cursed loudly as he was spat out of the bushes, brushing twigs and leaves off of the sleeves of his jacket.

“Hmm.”

Fabian whirled on Pok. “That’s all you have to say? Hmm?”

Pok shrugged, frowning deeply. “Could have sworn the exit was two paces from that tree right there. I’d never forget something like that. I’m not sure why it’s not working.”

Fabian swore under his breath and began to pace. “How do you just— is there any chance you’re wrong?”

“No, I’m— I’m sure of it. Unless it changed somehow, there’s no way…”

Pok trailed off, then muttered something under his breath that Fabian couldn’t understand but sounded like Goblin.

“Pok. What is it?”

Pok just looked at him with a pained, apologetic expression.

Then it came rushing to Fabian.

The tree looked about ten years old, maybe older. Pok and his wife had been coming to this garden for at least a decade.

The inscription on the stone outside the clearing. The magic boundaries shifted little by little each year until it made a perceptible change every ten years.

Fuck this.

“I forgot that it shifts. I’m so sorry.”

Fabian let out a long stream of mutterings and tried not to bang his head against the trunk of the nearest tree. “Great. Perfect. It’s getting dark, and I have no idea where I’m going.” He sighed while he flopped and sat down on a nearby rock. “What now?”

Pok furrowed his brow in thought as he floated just up above Fabian’s eye level. “Well… if I remember correctly, there’s a phone or something around here, hidden down some path or something. Right around… there.”

Fabian stared at him. The angel pointed at a spot just behind him. Fabian turned and saw a small pathway that definitely was not there before, that Fabian had not missed while searching the place. Obviously. 

He turned back to Pok, incredulous. “And you choose to mention this now?”

“My memory is fuzzy,” Pok said defensively. “You try being dead for seven years.”

Cursing under his breath, he stood back up and made his way down the path and into the small nook where there was, in fact, somehow, miraculously—a pay phone.

“This is stupid,” Fabian said as he dug around for copper pieces he could slide into the phone. “I take back everything I said about this clearing being nice, you and the magic and everybody is just fucking with me.”

He tried Mazey’s number first, but he couldn’t get through due to lack of service. Then Mary Ann’s, to no avail—her crystal was always on silent, anyway, so it wouldn’t have mattered if he could get through or not. He would’ve tried Gorgug or Ayda, but he didn’t have either of their numbers.

There was one more option he could try, one more crystal number he just happened to have memorized. And he didn’t like it one bit.

No. There was no way. He wasn’t going to call Riz for help. What was he, stupid? He was desperate, but not nearly desperate enough for that.

- - - 

Riz was settling in for the evening with a mug of coffee when his crystal vibrated. He glanced at it, took a sip, then picked it up.

The contact card was blank. Unknown number. Riz frowned and picked up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other line was crackling with static, but Riz recognized it almost instantly. Something in his stomach flipped.

“Riz? Is that you?” A relieved sigh. “Gods, okay, listen, it’s— it’s me, Fabian, Fabian Seacaster, um… I’m sort of… lost.”

Riz sighed slowly, irritated, as he set down his coffee mug. “Lost?”

“Yeah. Um. On the… you know the— you know how we went on trips today? And we were kind of near the Wulu Mountains? I’m— I’m there. Just… look, I don’t have much time, I found this pay phone here and had a few copper and now I only have one minute to call.”

“It’s thirty seconds now.”

“Will you shut the fuck up? I need you to just— you don’t need to come yourself, I just need you to call someone—anyone—Ayda, Gorgug, Mazey Phaedra, Mary Ann Skuttle, if you have any of their phone numbers, um… tell them I’m stuck and I need them to help.”

“Fabian—“

“I’m at a pay phone in a clearing in the Wulu Mountains! Just tell them that, seriously, and please h—“

Click. 

The call ended. 

Riz pulled the crystal away from his ear as it started beeping from disconnection and looked at the screen.

He stared at the crystal for a few moments before tapping the button to hang up the call. Then he sat there, unsure of what to do.

He had been planning to sit there, have some coffee, spend some time studying or reading a book or settling in doing something important, and now his night was completely ruined due to a single call from fucking Fabian Aramais Seacaster. Go figure. Just his luck.

He could just ignore it. Fabian would be fine. He’d find some way down eventually. Everything would pass, and he wouldn’t have to think about this ever again.

Right?

Right.

“Ugh.” Riz pushed out of the his chair where he had just gotten comfortable. “Gods damn it, Fabian,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing for his coat, “this is all your fucking fault.”

- - -

Click.

“Aargh!” Fabian screamed into the phone, even while knowing no one was on the other end to hear him. “Ugh! Stupid Riz, stupid mountain trail.” He dug around in his pockets fruitlessly, knowing he didn’t have any copper left. “Fuck this. We’re going to be stuck here all night, and none of my friends even know where I am.”

- - -

“He’s in a magical clearing in the Wulu Mountains.”

“A what?” asked Mazey.

Ayda’s eyes were glowing with divinatory magic. “I said, he’s in a magical clearing in the Wulu Mountains.” She blinked, and the scrying spell faded. 

“Thank god,” Gorgug said in relief. “Well… can you teleport us there or something?”

Ayda shook her head. “I cannot.”

“What? Why not?”

“I can only teleport to a place I have seen or is familiar to me. Though I got a glimpse of the place in my vision, it’s not enough for us to ensure safe passage. We’re likely to get knocked off course. Not to mention, from what it seems, there are magical barriers set up, which would make it even less likely for me to be able to penetrate the borders. I wouldn’t recommend a teleport spell.”

Gorgug sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s fine. It’s okay. He’s— he’s on the Wulu Mountains, which are right there. We can hike there.” He waved the group along. “Come on.” He turned to Ayda. “Thanks for your help, Ayda.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ayda said immediately. “I care for Fabian’s wellbeing, too. And you might need the magic of a wizard.”

Gorgug smiled tiredly. “Alright. Thanks, Ayda.” He tilted his head towards the trailhead. “Come on, guys.”

- - -

It didn’t take Riz long to find the Wulu mountain trail. It also didn’t take him long to get to the clearing. All he needed to do was track the phone booth call. It was easy. 

It was also ridiculous. There was literally one path to the clearing that was both the exit and the entrance. The only slight difficulty was the bubble of illusory magic, but it wasn’t a very strong enchantment. At least, not one that could fool his arcanotech glasses.

He found Fabian talking to himself while kicking at a fruit tree.

“You think I could maybe climb this?” he mused out loud. “People sleep in trees, right? I’ve slept on pirate ships, it’s really not that big of a difference.”

Silence. Fabian leapt up and swung his arms at one of the branches, then dropped back down.

“Oh, shut up. You wouldn’t be laughing if you were in my place. I’m going to be stuck here all night, I have to figure something out. Why are you so calm about this, anyway?”

Riz sighed deeply, wrapping his coat around himself tighter as he stepped forward into the clearing while Fabian, having jumped up again and grabbed onto a branch koala-style, made a string of unintelligible noises before dropping back down to the ground.

He groaned, rubbed his head, and looked up.

Right at Riz.

Riz stood there, jaw locked, glaring in annoyance. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Riz.” Fabian scrambled up and reached for his backpack and sword, abandoned at the base of the tree. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You called me. Remember?”

“Yeah, but… I didn’t.. think you’d…”

“Think I’d what, Seacaster?” Riz snapped. Every time he thought the guy couldn’t get more frustrating. He scanned the area for a moment, before locking in on the exit in the hedges and then turning back to Fabian. “Are you coming or not?” 

Fabian quieted. “Yeah. Sure. I’m coming. Hold on, let me get my things.”

- - -

Fabian trailed behind Riz, who was still fuming, while he led them down the rocky mountain path in the dark. 

“So... why’d you come?” asked Fabian, trying to sidle up next to Riz, even as it proved difficult as Riz seemed to be trying to walk as quickly as possible away from Fabian. 

“You called me.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Fabian shrugged. “I thought you’d… maybe… I don’t know. Never mind.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “How’d you find me?”

Riz sighed, long and annoyed. “I tracked the call. Found the booth. It’s not that hard.”

“Cool. Rogue shit? You learn that shadowing Aguefort?”

“I learned it from my dad,” Riz muttered.

Pok, next to Fabian, grinned widely. “That’s my boy.”

“Oh.” Fabian sped up a few steps to once again try to catch up to Riz’s pace. “Cool. Isn’t there, like, magic, though? I mean, that’s how w— that’s how I got lost in the first place.”

“Basic illusions. Truesight arcanotech.” Riz tapped the frame of his glasses.

“Ah. Got it.”

The conversation died into awkward silence. Fabian could just feel the hostile energy—the annoyance, the exasperation, the irritation—emanating off Riz. 

If it bothers you so much, then why’d you even come?

He opened his mouth to ask this, but he chickened out at the last second and instead let his gaze slip down from Riz’s face to his body, still dressed in his usual sharp three-piece suit, tie, and shirt, neatly with nothing out of place. Fabian wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked different. Maybe more ironed than usual. So instead what blurted out of his mouth was, “You look nice. What’s the occasion?” He smirked. “Got dressed up just to pick me up?”

Riz rolled his eyes. “Your ego is astounding.”

“Must be hard to walk up a mountain trail in leather shoes,” quipped Fabian.

Riz came to a dead stop and whirled around. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Fabian raised his hands in surrender as he slowed to a stop as well.

“How did you even get lost on such a tiny fucking mountain anyway?” Riz snapped. “There’s one trail. One fucking trail. Are you just here to waste my time? Is this some stupid ploy to get me to talk to you again? Because I’ll have you know that you’re an asshole piece of shit not worth my time.”

Fabian huffed. “Doesn’t take much to set you off, does it?” He stalked forward. “If I’m so not worth it, why’d you even come? Huh? Why didn’t you just leave me here to my own defenses? Why didn’t you call someone else, like I clearly asked you to?”

Riz opened his mouth, then slowly closed it. Then he grumbled something under his breath before turning back around and continuing his brisk stride down the path. “None of your fucking business. You ruined my night.”

Fabian hurried to catch up. “I ruined your night? Well, I’m honored.”

Riz scowled and began to answer, but as he turned to Fabian, he missed a root in the path, and his retort turned into a yelp as he tripped, his usual dexterous grace failing him as he began to fall forward.

In a flash of surprising reflexes, Fabian lunged forward, hand shooting out to catch Riz around the arm and pull him up, but he overcompensated a bit, sending Riz tumbling toward Fabian, barely catching himself from face-planting into Fabian’s chest by throwing out his free hand.

The two of them froze for a moment, a heated flush, visible even in the dim evening light, slowly crawling up Riz’s face. Then, looking thoroughly embarrassed and infinitely frustrated at the same time, Riz quickly pulled himself up and jerked his arm away from Fabian’s grip.

“There. Now we’re even,” Fabian sniped, brushing invisible dirt off his sleeves. “You happy now?”

Riz began to retort, but was once again interrupted, this time by a bright shining light. Both boys blocked their eyes from the light, squinting.

“Fabian!” From the brightness emerged Mazey, who ran forward and tackled Fabian in a hug. “Thank the gods you’re okay!”

Fabian’s vision cleared, and he realized that the bright light was in fact a flashlight being held by Gorgug, mixed with the soft glow of Ayda’s fiery hair and wings. Behind them slouched Mary Ann, looking mildly irritated but mostly her usual jaded.

“Where— how the— Mazey? Gorgug?”

“We’ve been looking for you,” said Gorgug with obvious relief.

Fabian blinked, somehow having forgotten that, yeah, he was supposed to have been back with the group more than an hour ago. "Oh— sorry." 

“Though it seems we did not get here first,” noted Ayda, nodding at Riz. “I’m sorry for the lack of expedience, Fabian.”

Riz drifted off to the side of the group while the others crowded around Fabian, who spared him a moment’s glance before focusing his attention back on his friends. “Sorry you guys had to come up here.”

“It’s no trouble,” assured Ayda.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Mazey said, punching him lightly in the arm. “Don’t wander off on your own like that.”

“Yes ma’am.” Fabian rubbed his arm. “Let’s get out of here.” He glanced at Riz. “You coming?”

Riz looked unable to decide whether to stay annoyed or not. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

Fabian squinted at him for a few moments, then shrugged as he gestured awkwardly. “I guess let’s go, then.”

- - -

At the base of the mountain, Gorgug hung up on his crystal call. “The bus’ll be here to pick us up soon.”

He strode over to the bench where the others were all gathered— Riz on one end, Fabian on the other, Mazey and Mary Ann sitting next to him, Ayda next to Riz— and sat down in the space between Mazey and Ayda. 

The group waited in silence for a few moments.

“Sorry again,” Fabian said quietly. “Wandering up there, getting lost— that’s really fucking embarrassing for me. My bad.”

The silence that followed was painful. Fabian winced and shut his mouth.

Suddenly Mazey laughed, a little too quickly. “It’s not your fault. And, embarrassing? You wouldn’t know embarrassing if it hit you in the face. Y’know, one time I made these homemade alcohol chocolates for this guy I liked. I accidentally used my dad’s baijiu, and it... well, it was gross. I felt so bad.”

Mary Ann glanced at Mazey. “That’s embarrassing? I once got caught cheating at a fight at an illegal battle ring.”

“You’re joking,” said Fabian. “Seriously?”

Mary Ann looked at him blankly. “Why would I be joking?”

“I can’t believe you guys have those crazy stories and don’t already go to Aguefort,” said Gorgug, looking amazed. 

“Hey— we shared our embarrassing moments,” joked Fabian. “What about yours? Can we hear them?”

Gorgug and Ayda glanced at each other.

“I constantly find myself in hellish or mortifying situations,” Ayda offered. “As you know, my father is the principal. I once spent a day at the school, trying to get to know people my age. There was a young woman who gave me many successive compliments in a row very quickly. I tried to answer them in earnest, and then she sort of laughed and walked away and I never saw her again. Now that I look back on it, I believe she was dissing me. Not quite sure.”

“My last grading tournament would be mine,” Gorgug said. “I have some sort of unlucky streak—I keep losing at the seventh round and can’t turn it around after that.” He weakly pumped a fist. “Hopefully the third time’s the charm.”

“Oh, you sell yourself short, Gorgug,” Mazey said encouragingly. She turned back to Fabian. “He’s actually really good.” 

“I believe it,” Fabian said. He leaned over so he could get Riz’s attention. “What about you, Gukgak? Got a story?”

Riz rolled his eyes, arms still crossed. “I guess my story’s putting through all this effort to help an idiot find his way out of a clearing with one fucking trail.”

Fabian scoffed while the others chuckled. “It’s not that funny. There was magic, you know.”

“I have another,” Ayda announced, cutting off Fabian’s defense. “As you all know, I come from Leviathan, which is effectively a giant pirate ship. Fabian, you may know, but the thing about pirate ships is that bathrooms are a rather rudimentary concept there.”

Fabian nodded. “Where’s this going?”

“Well, as there aren’t many bathrooms, there also isn’t the concept of gendered bathrooms. When I first came to Solace, the bathroom divide was unclear to me, and I entered the supposed men’s bathroom. When I exited, there was a line of men in front of the door. It was later when a companion of mine explained to me that I had used the wrong bathroom. It was pretty humiliating.”

“The bathroom divide is pretty weird,” Fabian admitted.

At that moment, the bus pulled into the stop. Gorgug stood up promptly and dusted himself off. “Alright, everyone, let’s get back to the hotel. It’s been a long night.”

They boarded the bus, Mazey taking a seat next to Ayda and Gorgug taking a window seat in the front row. Fabian was about to sit next to Gorgug when he found himself shoved out of the way by Mary Ann.

“Hey—“

“Got a problem?”

Fabian stared at Mary Ann as she stubbornly sat herself down and looked up at Fabian, unblinkingly. Next to her, Gorgug looked confused.

Weird, but okay. Fabian shook his head and continued onto the back of the bus, in the row across from Riz, who avoided eye contact grumpily.

The bus jolted and began to drive silently through the streets, back to the hotel.

- - -

“What, no Koki Pet today?” Mazey asked Mary Ann as they and Fabian walked to class the next day.

“Quokki,” Mary Ann corrected. She had in her hands a Fantasy Switch instead, and was running around her Animal Crossing island. “I got stuck on kiwi level.”

Mazey peered over her shoulder. “Ahh. Fun. Anyway, what was all that about yesterday?”

“What was what?”

“Last night. On the bus. With Gorgug.”

“Yeah, doesn’t Gorgug, like, hate your guts?” Fabian added.

Mary Ann shrugged and put the Switch away. “I said some stuff. None of your business.”

“Huh. Anyway, can’t believe you got lost on that mountain, Fabian,” laughed Mazey. “And that Riz of all people found you.”

Fabian shrugged. “I should… probably thank him for that, shouldn’t I?” He glanced at Pok out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, definitely,” said Pok.

At that moment, Ayda stepped out of a classroom in the hall. She started when she saw the three of them. “Fabian, Mazey, Mary Ann— something is wrong with Gorgug.”

They all looked at each other, then followed her beckon into the classroom.

Gorgug was sitting at a desk in the back, head in his arms.

“Hey, man,” said Fabian, pulling up a chair next to his desk. “What’s wrong?”

Gorgug was silent for a while, before he muttered, “It’s Dayne. He’s retaining my pay.”

“What?!” said Mazey in surprise. “Can he do that?”

Gorgug perked up a little. “Wait— you’re the president. Can’t you just tell him to stop? Threaten to dock his pay or something?”

Mazey shook her head miserably. “I have no power during the summer session. It’s the stupidest thing. But, wait, why is he retaining your pay?

Gorgug looked down at the desk. “He said I was being irresponsible for letting a student wander off on his own.”

Fabian’s heart sank. “Wait, but— that was all my fault. I got lost and didn’t make it back on time, that had nothing to do with you.”

Gorgug shrugged. “Dayne has it out for me. Plus, Porter’s in charge, and he’d never care because he also has it out for me. I don’t think they care either way.”

“Fuck that guy,” said Mary Ann.

Fabian frowned, frustrated. “I’m sorry, man, that’s— that’s messed up. It was my fault. Is there anything I can do?”

“I doubt it,” Ayda said grimly. “Dayne Blayde just likes to embarrass the younger students.”

Suddenly, Fabian snapped up, an idea forming in his head at Ayda’s words. “Gorgug! I know how we can get back at Dayne!”

Gorgug frowned. “What?”

“You know that dumb tumbler he carries around everywhere? And you know how there’s a pharmacy right near the hotel?” Fabian grinned. “I’ve got a plan.”

- - -

Fabian placed the plastic baggie at the corner of his desk discreetly, eyes still trained on his notebook.

Step one: pass-off and delivery of package.

Ayda nodded at Fabian during her next walk-around. As she passed by his desk, she palmed the packet and tucked it into her pocket before finishing her rounds and making it back to the front of the room.

Step two: deposit package at at target location.

“And, if you’ll look at this list right here—” Dayne turned around to mark his whiteboard.

Ayda took the opportunity to create a mage hand that approached his podium where his beloved travel tumbler was. Fabian glanced over the top of his notebook and watched the glowing appendage open the packet and empty its contents into the already-opened cup, before returning to Ayda, who tucked the evidence away.

Step three: wait for the trap to trigger.

Fabian kept his eyes trained on the tumbler as Dayne turned back around. “And that, my friends, is simple stealthing. Easy enough.” At that, he picked up his tea and brought it to his lips, grinning widely at the room before taking a sip.

Step four: await results.

“This is insane,” Gorgug hissed as Fabian pushed him into a toilet stall. 

Fabian grinned. “Good insane?”

“I can’t tell.”

“Well, we’re just lucky that there’s only two stalls in here.” Fabian grinned. “Don’t worry, you’re not technically doing anything wrong. Just lock the door and stay quiet.” Then he winked and shut the door.

Amended step four: block off available exit or escape routes.

Fabian ducked into the other stall and locked the door, barely able to suppress laughter.

Step five: await results.

It wasn’t long before he heard the door to the bathroom creak open, and panicked breaths as someone ran up and rattled on each of the stall doors.

“Fuck,” swore an unmistakable voice, and then just as quickly as they had arrived, the footsteps were fading and the door was opening and closing again.

Fabian finally let himself laugh out loud. “Oh gods. That had to have been him.”

Step six: gather witnesses.

The two of them immediately rushed outside to see Mazey and Mary Ann standing outside the other bathroom. 

“Well?” Fabian asked.

Mazey was grinning wide. “Oh, yeah. He went in. Fabian, you’re a genius.”

Fabian just grinned. “Oh, I try. Is Ayda…”

“She’s gathering the students as we speak.”

Mary Ann was, unlikely as it was, almost smiling. “This is kind of rad.”

“Of course it is.” Fabian leaned in. “Alright. I picked some pretty strong stuff, so I think we have a good amount of time to work with as long as Ayda comes back in the next minute or so. I was thinking I could just be here and film the whole thing on my crystal.

“Gods. I think my friend might be evil,” Mazey noted.

Step seven: Profit. So to speak.

Dayne sighed as he practically collapsed over the sink. He hadn’t had such an upset stomach that bad in a while. Possibly ever. Bad enough that he was willing to risk using the women’s bathroom.

Whatever. It was fine, the coast had been more than clear when he’d entered. He’d be fine. He rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, 

This was fine. He was fine. He’d be fine.

He opened the door, then froze when he came to face a long line of girls.

A long line of girls.

Headed by a wide-eyed Ayda Aguefort.

“Hold on,” she said slowly, loudly, “Isn’t this the acclaimed alumnus instructor Dayne Blayde? But— what could you possibly be doing in the girls’ bathroom?”

Murmurs and snickers broke out in the line behind her. Dayne hadn’t even known the half-phoenix had it in her to look smug. 

He made a break for it.

- - -

“To be fair, I’ve seen crazier plots, but that was just straight-up bullying,” Mazey said later.

“It was actually pretty satisfactory,” Ayda admitted.

Fabian grinned and stretched out comfortably. “And it fucking worked. He folded immediately when he found out we had it on video.” He waved his crystal around triumphantly, then shot Gorgug a grin. “Well? What’d you think?”

Gorgug just shook his head fondly. “Honestly, you guys are insane. I kind of love it. Thanks, Fabian.”

“No problem at all. Oh! I should text you all the video. Just in case he tries to bother any of you again.” Fabian tapped his passcode into his crystal and pulled up the video to send to the group. “Man, Fig would be said she missed this.”

“Oh, she would.” Mazey shook her head.

Gorgug squinted. “Who?”

“Friend back at home. She and our other friend, Adaine, they’re also coming to Aguefort,” Fabian said brightly. “But they couldn’t come on this trip. It’s just me and Mary Ann here.” He nudged the kobold, who was, again, laser-focused on her game. “Gods, Mary Ann, admit that was fun. That was fun, right?”

“It was fun,” Mary Ann said in a deadpan.

“She admitted it! It was fun!” Then Fabian sobered up a bit. “And, uh… I’m sorry I got you in trouble, again. I hope this makes up for it.”

Gorgug shook his head again, now grinning. “It more than does. I don’t think I’ll forget about how bad we fucked him up for a while. That was genuinely funny. Thanks, Fabian.”

“Well, consider this my thank-you gift to you for helping me out this whole time.” Fabian sighed. “Can’t believe this whole trip is almost over.”

As the others made sounds of agreement, Fabian caught in the corner of his eye, Pok materialising. He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows and tapped on his wrist discreetly, but Fabian sighed and stood up. “Alright, speaking of thank you gifts… I’ve got to head out to town for the afternoon. I’ll see you guys for dinner, later?”

- - -

“Think this was a bit much?” Fabian asked anxiously a few hours later as he walked down the hotel hall, fiddling with the leather briefcase in his hands as he searched for the right room number.

“You went across town searching for this thing,” Pok reminded him. “What’s your standard for ‘a bit much’?”

Fabian scowled. “I just— everything nearby was fucking cheap as hell, no one deserves anything that low quality, it’s just sad. It'd be an insult to give anyone anything below ten gold pieces.”

“Suit yourself. I think he’ll like it just fine. He’ll appreciate the appreciation.”

“Appre— it’s not appreciation, I just— I don’t want to owe him anything,” Fabian snapped. “I don’t fucking appreciate him.”

“My bad, kiddo,” Pok said, shaking his head wryly. “He’ll appreciate that you no longer owe him anything.”

“I can tell you’re being sarcastic, okay?”

“He’ll like it just fine, Fabian,” Pok said firmly.

Riz wasn’t wearing his jacket or waistcoat when he opened the door to his room, only his dress shirt, neatly tucked and sleeves rolled up. His shirt was the only neat thing about him, though; if it weren’t for the lack of wrinkles in his clothes, Fabian would’ve assumed he had just rolled out of bed—tired eyes, mussed hair, hands working on the loosened tie around his neck, slightly slumped against the doorframe. He clearly didn’t sleep much. It didn’t look bad on him. Not that any of that was relevant.

Fabian’s fist, which had been poised to knock when the door opened on its own, awkwardly drifted down to his side. “…Hey.”

Riz looked up at him in slight surprise, clearly having just been about to leave his room despite his state of dishevelment. “Can I help you?”

“No, I, um… wanted to thank you. For coming to find me yesterday.”

Riz scowled slightly. “Sure, whatever.”

“Right, well…” Fabian shifted his weight. “Thank you. Really. And… I got you something.” He lifted up the briefcase.

“You what?” Riz’s eyes flicked down to Fabian’s hands.

“It’s— it’s a Briefcase of Holding. You can— uh— store whatever in there, and you won’t run out of space, y’know? Not that— not that you don’t know what a Bag of Holding is. Um. Yeah.” Fabian held it out and awkwardly raked a hand through his hair as Riz slowly reached for it and took it. “Anyway, I’ve— I’ve got to go.”

He abruptly turned on his heel and got the hell out of there before he could even catch a second of Riz’s reaction.