Chapter Text
"There’s no way this axe isn’t worth more than just a children’s book," an excited teen exclaimed. He held up his axe high, watching as the fire from the furnace gleamed off its blade. He took a swing at the firewood set up on the other side of the room, cleaving the log cleanly through its midsection.
"Our payment was agreed upon before we met," Barran said, setting aside his forging equipment and wiping the soot off of his face.
"I heard rumors about you, and I’m no blacksmith but I even I know that this is top notch stuff!"
"Well, I do have a reputation to uphold. Now, regarding payment," Barran stood up, towering over the excited teen as he stood twice his height. "Did you bring what I asked?"
"Yeah, yeah! Let me get it real quick..."
The teen walked over to his satchel, revealing a book hidden inside its canvas. The book cover featured a colorful depiction of a pair of farmers clothes.
"I never thought a big guy like you would like to read children’s books and fairy tales, I'd be out arm wrestling everybody in town.”
“What makes you assume I haven’t, already?” Barran’s laugh emanated deeply from the bottom of his stomach.
“Good point. Is this really all you're going to ask for? I mean I don’t have gold but I have some other money and... stuff," the teen asked, sheathed his wood axe on his belt.
"That won't be necessary, but welcome," Barran said. The teen excitedly pushed his paw into the satchel once more to bring out a handful of Pock coins. He excitedly pushed them towards Barran.
"You gotta start charging more than just kid’s books from students, big guy. Some of them still got money from their parents they can give you!"
"They might be mere child’s play to you, but when I’m trying to learn about your people’s folklore and language, it’s more valuable than you know. This country is filled with rich storytelling," Barran said as he counted the coins with a small smile. “You should devote yourself more to reading, you’re bound to read something interesting!”
"Yeesh, you're starting to sound like my teacher," the teen's face contorted with disgust.
"Well, maybe it'd be good if you paid attention. The older folk know more about the world than we do.” Barran huffed, politely showing the teen the exit. “Tell your friends, I do appreciate the business,"
The teen excitedly bounded away, a paw excitedly holding onto his sheathed axe. As he exit, a tall figure entered into Barran's workshop.
"Business is booming these days," Treyala said, striding through the heavy air to lean against a counter.
"Spring is here, which means that people need tools to work,” Barran grunted as he set his hammer aside. He turned to his friend and smiled. “It’s nice of my best customer to stop by, how's your short sword holding up?"
"You made it, you tell me," Treyala smiled, looking Barran up and down as he cleaned off his equipment and dirty clothes.
"I aim to be humble, but,” Barran smiled. “I have utmost faith in my products.”
"Honestly, with the amount of times you've fine-tuned this thing, I'm pretty sure it can cut through your house if I swung hard enough."
Treyala pushed herself off the counter and brushed overlooked soot off Barran’s shoulder.
"It's my lunch break and it's hot in here. Want to get somewhere comfortable and continue this conversation somewhere else?"
"If I knew any better, I'd say you were asking me on a date."
"If you knew any better, you'd say yes so I can get something from the Crystal Carafe before the line gets too long," Treyala said as she walked out.
"So... yes or no, big guy?" Treyala turned, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at Barran with a half-smile.
"Give me some time to think about it," Barran said. He took a cleaning rag and wiped his hands free of soot and waved his hands through the fire. The fire leapt from the forge to his hands, and as he clapped his hands together the flames dissipated into the air. Smoldering embers were left in its place.
“Sure, I got time.”
Grand Elise was a booming city filled with a diverse group of people and hustling businesses. On one side of the street, you would find a group of Terrian anthromporphic dogs, cats, and wolves. On the other, you would find a similar mixed bag of species.
Majuu, however, a race of minotaur-like figures were nowhere to be seen. As Barran walked with his friend down the street, his large physique even towered over his already-tall friend.
Unfortunately, this also brought a lot of attention. People abruptly stopped whatever they were doing to see him, watching his every move and avoided crossing paths with him. Barran felt discomfort as he noticed the side glances and the avoidance of eyes, but this was a discomfort he was used to.
Treyala led the two to the Crystal Carafe, a small Café with outdoor seating underneath a thin layer of canvas that protected the customers from the warming sun. As they sit down, Barran's chair creaks under the weight, attracting the attention of every customer if his large figure hasn’t yet.
Barran flipped through the menu. He squinted at the words, trying to mouth them until he found a sketched drawing of a signature dish. He pointed towards it, almost embarrassed to do so. The waiter slowly nodded. He meekly took the menu from the two and headed back to do his business.
The food arrived and without much time passing in between, Barran rewarded himself with his hard-earned food as a blacksmith. Treyala on the other hand couldn’t find herself to bring food to her mouth.
"Don't you ever get tired of it?" Treyala broke the silence as she looked around at the people who were staring at the two of them.
"I’m learning how to read slowly but steadily. The longer words are a little harder to read-"
"You know what I mean." Treyala's gaze shifted to Barran. He glanced around at the café, watching as every customer quickly turned when he caught them staring. He sighed.
"It's just another Tuesday for me, Trey."
"That isn't right and you know it. You’re not even doing anything, you’re just eating. Most people need to relax." Treyala’s voice was loud enough to reach everybody eating there. Most people uncomfortably avoided her sweeping glare.
"If it makes you feel any better, you're not most people," Barran smiled. Treyala's glare softened and she let out a small laugh. She paused, twirling her fork around the half-eaten food on her plate. It wasn’t long before the both of them were finished with their food.
"I want to ask you something."
"We’ve known each other for a while but I’m not sure if I’m ready for a full commitment yet," Barran laughed.
"I want you to be my sponsor."
Barran’s smile disappeared, replaced with surprise at the proposition.
"Sponsor?"
"Yeah, I have a officer academy tournament coming up, and I want to wear your best gear, more than your sword."
"I... This is sudden," Barran leaned backward, setting his utensil down.
"I don’t want just your weapons, I want everything I bring onto the field to be from you."
"I appreciate the business opportunity but-"
"It's not just a business opportunity," Treyala straightened up, her tone sharp and cutting off Barran. He shifted uncomfortably as nearby diners jumped in their seats at the sudden outburst.
"You might have learned how to deal with it, but I'm sick of everyone looking down on you. You belong to a proud group of people, and I'm gonna wear and use your absolute best and I'm gonna beat them all. Then they're going to see how great your work is and-"
"I'm going to stop you right there," Barran said lowly. Treyala shut her mouth, pursing her lips to keep more words from escaping her lips.
"Let's get one thing straight. While my weapons are definitely my best products... I want to be known for items that don’t bring harm. If I sponsor you, what message does that send? That the war between our countries is proof that my people are used only for our terrifying weapons?"
"Barran, that's not my intent-"
"Yet that's going to be the outcome,” Barran interrupte this time, “what if someone takes it the wrong way?"
Treyala shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"It just... isn’t right,” Treyala growled, forcefully grinding her fork into her food. Barran watched as her natural element crept from her fingers and gathered frost through the metal fork.
"You know what,” Barran cleared his throat “let me think about it. Tomorrow, I’ll give you an answer.”
Treyala sighed, resting her chin on her propped arm and looking into the busy streets outside as if she was looking for a way out of it all.
“...Okay.”
The golden fire in the furnace went out as the drooping sun touched the storefront window. A day well done, Barran told himself, wiping off his tools and preparing them for the next day. However, before he could close shop for the day, the front door suddenly swung open with heavy footsteps following suit.
“Sorry, we’re closed-” Barran stopped. He was faced with a taller, wider version of himself who stood looking down with his arms crossed.
“Brother,” J’erah spoke in Altarian, almost growling as he did so. “I see you store is still afloat.”
“What are you doing here?” Barran’s shoulders grew tense, standing upright as he clenched his fists.
“I come to you after years of separation and you greet me with hostility,” J’erah sneered, letting out small wisps of smoke from his nostrils.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Barran frowned. He took a deep breath and set down his cleaning rag behind the store counter. “I thought you were leading your... crusade.”
“Your tone suggests that you think it’s an unworthy endeavor. Do you feel this way after all this time I gave you to think upon it?”
“Unworthy isn’t the word I would call it.”
“Oh? What would you call it, then?”
Barran shifted his weight from foot to foot, his fingers clawing at the wooden counter top in an effort to calm down.
“... Dangerous.”
“Ah yes, as if anything worth pursuing would be anything but,” J’erah scoffed as he unfurled his arms and puffed his chest out. “We need your services, Barran.”
“’We?’”
“My men and I are close to our final stage in our preparations. We’re missing the one crucial ingredient in our insurgency,” J’erah walked past Barran to the small display of expertly crafted weaponry. “Tools to create our future.”
Barran felt the air escape his lungs.
“You have a gift from the gods, Barran. Even our most experienced cannot create what you have.”
“Those weapons are years old, I’ve moved on to make tools and other metalwork.” Barran muttered.
J’erah turned to face Barran.
“Moved on?”
Barran averted his eyes, losing the starting contest that he didn’t realize had started.
“A small boy has told me otherwise, brother. An axe that can fell a tree with one swing is simply not just a ‘tool.’”
Barran retrained his eyes on J’erah’s, a horrified look on his face.
“What did you do?!”
“It’s quite presumptuous to assume that I did anything to a small, helpless Halgenian child.”
J’erah stepped closer to Barran, too close for comfort.
“Although, I imagine killing him would give me the same satisfaction as stepping on a rodent.”
“Don’t,” Barran whispered. J’erah shook his head and stepped back as if he’d won a trivial argument.
“I have better ways to spend my time,” J’erah said. He pointed towards the weapons on the wall. “I will need your best. Enough to supply five to six Majuu. Gather your inventory, I will come back tomorrow.”
Barran watched as J’erah stomped away, shutting the door behind him hard enough to make the entire store echo with its closing. Barran let out a held breath and fell back onto a stool. The sunset’s rays were the only thing keeping him company now, and unfortunately for him, they didn’t give him the answers that he needed.