“So that entire time, it was over a gift for Beryl?”

Callum asked, twirling a finished baseball in his crude leather glove. I silently nodded, motioning for him to throw the ball using my own. While I successfully recreated the baseball in earnest, the glove itself was lacking. Craftsman–woman, I may be, I could not take to seam work like Ms.Claire.

Still have to improve the webbing.

“Yeah, it's just–”

I looked down and then nodded to myself.

“I dunno, I didn't want to ask her. But she would just brush it aside and tell me not to worry. ‘That's for the adults to do.”

I clicked my tongue.

“My ass.”

Callum nodded, throwing the ball from his gloveless hand.

“Well, she'll like the focus, I've no doubt of it.”

I caught the ball from its arc, flying much slower than either of us could actually pitch it. It was comparable to a normal Little League pitch. We were so wordless for the most part that our awkward silence seemed tacit. That was, until I managed to break the silence. On my following catch, I tossed the ball between each of my hands, thinking the words before I spoke them.

I ask this, and there's no going back… but.

I looked back up to Callum, then back at my hands.

They're family—adopted, but family nonetheless. Callum seemed hurt when Findlay brought that up. He’s been waiting for me to ask, I can tell.

Looking back up to him, I was sure he thought I didn't understand his expression; the sadness in his eyes.

Isn't this what I can do for him? He hasn't had any women around in a long time, save us. It's been years, even. Stannis doesn't seem better with words, either.

“So, Mama and you–”

His brow furrowed for a moment, then settled. Tilting his head to the side, he nodded. I threw him the ball, knowing that empty hands could make him feel more anxious. With my underhanded toss, Callum was forced to hold his glove hand out to catch the ball. It landed with a firm thwap in the treated leather.

I continued my question.

“You were a thing?”

I asked, receiving a nod.

“Aye, shortly.”

A throw once more.

“What… What happened?”

Another throw, Callum muttered some expletives under his breath before responding.

“Fools, both of us, but mainly me.”

He smirked, but it didn't seem happy. He caught the ball, dropping his arms as he walked across the yard.

“Let's talk over a drink.”

----------------------------------------

“So, you let each other go?”

Callum nodded, drinking mead from a gourd, its stopper dangling from string made of tendon.

“I was trying so hard to become a swordsman of worth, famed for grit. Was bouncing between parties for the game they sought more than the pay.”

His knee bobbed.

“You know what I mean, shoot, looking back, the Bulette must have given a rush. How many adventurers can say they felled such a creature in their entire career, let alone as you are now?”

He looked over to me, his brow raised as if unsure of my reply. I chuckled, taking the gourd from his hand. It was nice being able to drink again if only a little. I took a swig of my own, the strange burn mixed with the aroma of honey flooding my senses.

“I couldn't exactly pick and choose that fight. But– maybe a little, at least, the adrenaline rush. However, we took on a Gorgonopsid this last week. I told you about it, right? Big ugly thing, gaooo!”

“Snrrrk, hehehe.”

I growled, holding my hands out as if they were claws, my expression forcing the first thing I could compare to a giggle from the grown man.

“Gimme that back.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Callum chided, grabbing the gourd. Sighing, he continued.

“It was… it was an aspiration. I felt small, but I couldn't do legionary life.”

He looked to the city’s walls, the sun setting for us as we sat on the smithy’s roof.

“It was rough on our Pa, mine and Stan's. But I digress. I wanted to be something, and–”

His eyes seemed sad.

“She didn't want to take that from me… So, one night… We had a fight before bed.”

Cal.

He frowned.

“I took her out to eat at a nice Cafe beforehand. Gods know she loved it. We were enjoying ourselves more than enough.”

He looked back at the gourd, taking a swig.

“I still can't tell if she'd decided before or after to call it quits, but I don't want to believe she meant a word of it.”

He drank.

“Nine months later, well.”

Callum glanced at me for but a moment.

“Yui.”

Things were quiet for some time, the two of us passing the mead back and forth until it was empty. As the sun was setting, Callum wore a bittersweet expression, recounting stories of Yui.

Sometime after Yui's birth, Callum apparently begged Hatsumi to let him help. At first, he was spiteful. He didn't want to see Hatsumi for some time after the breakup. He spoke of how Stannis urged him to at least meet the toddler and try with Hatsumi again. The moment Callum saw Yui, he said a switch had flicked inside him.

However, one crucial factor always kept them distant. Hatsumi, Mother, kept pushing him away. Him being there was enough, but she refused to shackle him, in her own words. She wanted to see him be the hero he wanted to be, that's why she said she loved him. Because Callum followed that ideal, he chased his dream. However, she didn't think he could have it with her anchoring him.

“I still want to try… Gods know I want to.”

He broached sullenly. Reaching to his neck, he pulled free a small string with a dull metal Ring adorning it.

“But… after what happened.”

I leaned against Callum, hugging him from the side. I was never one to do so for him, but he showed a vulnerability he'd never shown before. I felt he needed it, to be hugged, shown that his sadness was heard.

They've both suppressed it so much. It wasn't just Mama. It was Callum, too.

“Hmph.”

He stifled a chuckle.

“Thanks, Kiyomi.”

He placed an arm around my back, wrapping from shoulder to shoulder.

I'm still so small compared to him… he reminds me of Dad, so much.

I nuzzled into his shoulder, partly because I didn't want him to see my face. I was sad for them both at this rate, which was not helped by his sudden rub across my back as if he were the one consoling me.

“I needed that hug.”

He said, bringing his face to the top of my head. If I'd been myself before, the me on earth, I doubt I could console him save my silent looming and a cold beer. But here, I embraced what compassion I could show, myself. And for that, he kissed the top of my head.

Don't go doing something like that! Dumb ass!

I squeezed harder, but it should have felt a bit more firm to him.

“Thanks.”

He said with a sigh.

----------------------------------------

Callum sat on a stump outside the smithy entrance, brewing coffee while the coals in his forge ignited the fresh wood he’d added to it. The mornings were warm, winter's leftover cold finally dying away from the region. The grass glistened with dew, and the occasional bird flew down from the neighboring houses and the handful of small trees that occupied the clearing. He had his old wedding band in his palm, eyeing the dull piece of metal for some time as he pieced his thoughts together. From a conversation he had with Kiyomi some days prior.

Could I try again?

Callum thought, taking a sip of the warm, bitter coffee.

Or would she even consider me like that after all this time?

He yawned, thinking back to the dinners he had shared with Kiyomi and Hatsumi recently. He was still stuck on the subject of his ex-wife and adoptive niece after the latter pressed him on the subject. Kiyomi was considered ahead of herself as a child, making Callum struggle to push down the feeling that the girl didn't also perceive some form of unseen tension.

If I–

Callum nodded to himself, pinching the band of silver between his thumb and pointer finger.

I will– I’ll try again, over the death of me, I will.

He’d been clean of his vices for so long, and Hatsumi was patient. She was the only one of the group to never chastise him for his further faults, only ever for simple things like smoking. He resigned himself to try, to endeavor, to overpower her love for him with his love for her.

The only thing left is to play the long game.

His brows furrowed.

And I hope that I will not be beaten out of this.

Placing the string that ran through the band around his neck, Callum hid the piece of silver under his shirt.

Maybe later, I’ll forge new ones. But for now–

“Heeeyyy!”

A girl's voice yelled across the clearing. It was Kiyomi, fully outfitted, with Beryl and Vaughn in tow.

----------------------------------------

“Morning.”

Callum waved, standing at the entrance of his forge.

“Hey, Cal!”

I yelled back, smiling brightly as I waved from the entrance we'd taken to the yard. Beryl, Vaughn, and I were provisioned and equipped for our next hunt, saving a few extra items we had ordered beforehand.

“I’ve got most of the order bundled.”

Callum motioned for us to join him inside the smithy, disappearing into the still-dark room for his forge.

“You’re earlier than I expected.”

Callum spoke, moving to the corner where three rolled leather bundles lay.

“We figured it best to get the morning behind us; the further out into our first day, the better.”

Beryl greeted Callum with the strange reservation she’d always given him. She slithered through the door after Vaughn and I entered, trying to remain conscious of her size.

“You aim for Kraków, aye? Kiyomi mentioned it in passing just a bit.”

I nodded as if to confirm so, even with his back to me still.

“We took a handful of requests this time, mostly making the rounds for any of the hazardous fodder species present.”

Beryl responded.

“That and the three of us could use some travel time under our belt. We’ll be gone for roughly three weeks if we stay strict about our time management.”

Beryl glared at Vaughn, staring at a satchel stuffed with drafting implements.

“What’s the mark?”

Callum asked, standing back at full height as he passed us each our bundles. In response, Vaughn pulled a few small tags from his satchel, allowing Beryl to continue explaining.

“Mostly hazards for the odd merchant or livestock driver. Wolves, a stalker, Hangman trees, wolf-in-sheep's-clothing, maybe a viper vine. That’s what we have on the list for now.”

Callum nodded, looking over each tag as he shuffled them.

“There's no harm in ensuring the rookies behind or around you don't get predated just yet for not suspecting the stuff. Sure as hell keeps wannabe merchants from offing themselves prematurely. It should be easy work.”

Callum passed back the tags, looking between Vaughn and Beryl with his hands on his hips.

“Three weeks is a long time.”

Beryl and Vaughn looked to each other.

“Kraków is a good ways away.”

Callum continued, receiving nods of understanding from the two. I, however, was lost.

Why is he focusing on those two? Why are they acting like he’s only acknowledging them right now?

“I trust our agreement is still understood?”

What the hell is up with this guy? They're my friends, what are they gonna do? Ditch me? Rob me?

The two nodded quietly, prompting me to understand what he was referring to. I placed a hand on each of their shoulders, tilting my head as I made my own response.

“Let's go, you two. We still need to get through the gate. Getting the access pass to Kraków is going to take a bit.”

Vaughn and Beryl each jumped slightly at my touch.

Fuckin hell, they're just afraid of you pummeling them. Calm down.

Vaughn looked at me, then back to Callum as if I’d reminded him of something.

“Ah, yeah. While we were at it, I was going to consult with a few engineers there. Pa was wanting their take on a few design choices along the lines of materials for the second set of exterior walls. You wouldn't happen to know anyone, sir?”

Vaughn asked, genuinely curious about any advice. Callum shrugged in response, looking to the ceiling as if to wonder.

“Nope, any advice that Stannis could give is along the lines of my own. It's best to rub elbows while you're there; it never hurts.”