Colton

Wringing out a rag, I place it on Sophia's head. The cool waters calm her, but she hasn't woken up. "She needs rest," I say. Both Tristan and her grandfather are worried. Seeing her like this must be disheartening.

Tristan rubs his temples. "Is she going to be ok?" He caresses her cheek, guilt weighing him down, her eyes flutter open, and he is overjoyed. He hugs her, but let's go when he remembers they are not alone. "You had me worried. Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok, just tired," she says. "Wait, did you?"

Tristan nods, "Yeah." With red cheeks, he rubs the back of his head. "So, wanna marry me?" Closing the gap, she plants her lips on his. "Alright then."

While this is a touching moment, my medical lessons kick in. "You need to rest," I offer Sophia a fresh cloth. At the rate you're going, you'll pass out again." I turn to her grandfather; while he manages to hide it, he's not far behind her. "Both of you."

"We have orders to fill." The Smith stands. "If we don't meet them, they'll take our shop." Stress is oozing off of him. "I put my life into this place, and I won't lose it." I can respect his resolve, but he's being foolish. Even if they finish this order, the army will demand more.

I reach into my pack and toss Sophia and her Grandfather some herbs. "Here, this helps when I'm stressed." I turn to Tristan, gesturing to him to convince them to leave and have them join his father's company. They can't keep this up, and we both know it. Strangely, I don't see or hear Becka. "Where's Becka?"

"She's over there," Sophia points to a wall display on the other side of the room.

Still a statute, Becka focuses on a pair of daggers hanging amongst several weapons. They're plain in design compared to the axes and short swords. "Why?" she mutters, reaching for them as if possessed.

"Becka," I grab her from behind. "Don't just go for a weapon like that."

She trembles in my embrace. The lack of her usual spark makes me nervous. She's cold, and it worries me. She knocks me to the ground. A dagger meets my throat. "How did they get these?" she demands, through heavy breaths and bared teeth. "These are mine!"

Tristan leaps to his feet, but I signal him not to get involved. "So what now, Becka?" I try to stay calm, scared shitless at my situation. "Are you going to kill me? Them? What's your plan?"

Reason flickers in her eyes, and the trembling blade slowly leaves my throat. "No...I don't know." She's reaching for her head, trying to rub the frustration away. "Let me think." Stress chipping away at her, allowing the tears to run free. She looks at me through slow breaths, and the dagger falls from her grip. Collapsing onto me, she starts whimpering. "I'm sorry, I."

All I can do is hug her. "It's ok, Becka. It's ok." I sit up, piecing together the situation. "Cato sold you those daggers, didn't he?"

"How did you know that?" The Smith walks towards us, taking the dagger from the floor. "Yeah, he did. He demanded I fix his sword. He said I should be honored to work on a noble's blade." A faint smile escapes that wrinkled face. "Funny, probably didn't want people knowin he broke it."

I stand, Becka still clinging to me, her nails digging deep. "He sold them as payment?" The Smith nods. Looking closely at the daggers, they're too small for me. They're made for a woman's hand. And Becka's bluntness only proves the point. "What are you going to do with them?"

He places the blade back on the wall, "I'll use the metal to fill the orders."

"You can't do that!" Becka shoves me away. "Cato stole those from me! They're mine!" She tries to get past him, but he effortlessly shoves her back. Regaining her balance, I see her ready to fight. Before she can throw a punch, I restrain her again. "Let me go, Colton," She kicks frantically, going for my shins and groin.

"Becka, stop!" I tighten my grip. "This isn't helping."

Like a cat, she goes limp, dangling in my arms. I let her go, anger boiling off her like steam; she refuses to look at me, focusing solely on her daggers. Her breasts puffed out, and an idea hits me.

I turn to the Smith, "What if we buy them?" I get a confused look from both of them. "If you had some gold, you could buy the steel." I whisper in Becka's ear, "You still want those piercings out, right?" Putting two and two together, she reluctantly shows her breast.

Averting his gaze. "Girl, cover yourself." He turns his attention to the blades. "As nice as it would be to have that gold, it's useless to me." Straightening his back, it creeks like a rusty hinge. "With everything that's happened, we ain't getting steel from Titos Quarry anytime soon." Stress overcoming him, he sits. "I'm sorry, but I need that steel."

"Opa," Sophia walks towards us, holding Tristan's hand. "Just sell them the handles. We don't need the wood."

"Girl, we-"

Sophia kneels, taking his grandfather's hands, "Opa, I know how much this place means to us. But it's killing you," those brown pools start to drain on her cheeks. "Tristan's clan needs a smith, and we need a new home. Please." She begs, her words chipping at his resolve.

The weight of the situation hits him hard. He looks around the room, a lifetime of work crumpling to dust under the Imperial machine. "We finish this order first. And if we're going move, we still need coin." Before I can even speak, his arm flies up. "Coin, not gold."

"He's right," Sophia looks at Becka's breasts, examining the piercing. "I don't have the fine tools to remove these. And gold will be hard to trade with."

"So, you want what? Silver, copper?" I hesitate to reach for my coin pouch. It holds everything I made this month. The idea of spending it all in one go is disheartening. But if I could sell just one of those piercings, I would make it all back. With a heavy heart, I offer her my pouch, "Will this be enough?"

"Absolutely." She hands the pouch to her grandfather and gets to work on the blades. With precision and skill, the tangs come loose. With one last look at the handles, she hands them to Becka, who hugs them like an old friend. "You know. If you two still want those removed, I'm sure someone in the Red Lantern district could-"

"No." I haven't been there since they threw me to the wolves. The idea of crawling back for help makes my blood boil. But I'm out of options. Swallowing my pride, I remind myself it's for family and home. "Let's go, Becka. Tristan, you coming?"

"I'm going to stay for a bit."

Becka and I leave the shop, nearly blown away by ash-filled winds. It rushes through the street, blackening everything it touches. I take Becka by the hand. "Don't let go, ok." I pull her along until we reach that rickety old door.

We fight our way through, but the winds keep chasing us. The remains of buildings moan and cry all around us, breaking under the pressure. Their bones give way, and we run like madmen, narrowly escaping their wraith. With one last heave, we're blown out into the open.

I shield her with my body, our hearts racing. "Well, that was fun," I push myself off Becka, Removing my mask. We dust ourselves off, helping her to her feet. We stare at the rumble now littering the ground. "I hope Tristan has another way home. You ok?"

She rips off her mask, laughing between frantic breaths. "I can't believe we made it." She reaches into her cleavage, happy the handles are still there. Our eyes lock, and before I can react, we kiss. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." I gesture to her breast. " We'll be even when we get those trinkets off."