Tristan

"...Separated by one point, in literally as close a vote as I've ever seen, the winner of the Tier 2 Primary Crafting Class Contest is... the unbelievable [Liquiform Elixir], crafted by Uma Dubois!"

The chaos surrounded Tristan as he stood. There were people clapping him on the shoulder, cheering him, commiserating with him, exclaiming that he should have won and had been robbed. But he didn't hear them. He was numb. The stage loomed before him, and if nothing else, he would go reclaim his sword. It hadn't won, but it had been judged and seen. The outcome was what it was. There was no changing it now. He was just going to have to deal with it.

He floated toward the stage, ignoring the crowd. His feet kept moving him forward, ever toward where the host--and the judges--still lingered. One stood out more than the others.

Gorrek. The dwarf armorsmith that had cost him the win. He'd only lost by a single point, so he was certain of that beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Second place isn't bad, he reassured himself. It's fine. It's great, even, given the competition. Second place means my sword was better than almost everything else.

But it wasn't what his sword deserved.

Bobby was holding out another bag, this one with "[RUNNER-UP]" written on it, and Tristan accepted it. He supposed he'd get Sophie to open it for him later.

"It should have placed first," he heard himself saying.

"Yeah, kind of a bummer," the leather clad green man agreed. "But honestly, you should still be incredibly proud. Anyone who could swing a sword, if they could use one of yours, I'm sure they'd all be lining up to commission something from you. You've got a lot of talent!"

The last sentence echoed in Triatan's ears as the host backed away, heading toward where the third place winner had just appeared.

His hand clutched the bag tighter. "It should have placed--!"

A delicate but firm hand found his shoulder. The old elf judge, Spiro, smiled down at him reassuringly. "Rather than focus on what isn't, perhaps you should cherish what is."

Tristan silently bowed his head, not trusting himself to reply aloud.

Perhaps understanding, Spiro extended his hand. "Congratulations on your success, young Hammerson. I hope you do not let one disappointment overshadow what you have accomplished here."

Tristan shook the elf's hand. "Thanks, Spiro. I appreciate the vote of confidence."

A genuine smile lit the ancient face. "You have already helped me more than most, Tristan. Perhaps we shall see one another at the ball."

Tristan didn't get a chance to ask what he meant before Spiro had moved on, and he suddenly found himself faced with the worker who held out his [Sanguine Challenger].

"Thanks," Tristan said, accepting it. He stared at it in his hand. He loved the way its weight was distributed so as to not feel too heavy, how warm it felt, and especially its black-and-white swirled aesthetic.

This is easily the best sword I've made, he reassured himself, and the next one will be even better.

Sliding it over his shoulder, he began to move to the stage's rear steps, when someone pushed right in front of him to go first.

Gorrek.

"Seriously, asshole?" Tristan blurted out.

Gorrek only chuckled at first, stoking Tristan's anger.

"First you talk nothing but garbage about my sword, and now you can't even be civil and courteous?"

Gorrek stopped half way down the steps and turned around, looking up at Tristan behind him. "You shouldn't be talking to me, little boy."

"Little?" Combined with the already notable height difference, Tristan was towering over the dwarf. But Tristan didn't need to make that point clearer. He dropped to the floor, putting his eyes and Gorrek's roughly level. "You've been nothing but rude to me since I met you," he said. "Why is that?"

"Because that's who I am. But your bigger issue right now is that you need to get out of my face."

"Why? What's your problem with me, Gorrek?"

"Kid, you don't mean enough to me to warrant having 'a problem' with you. I don't care what your last name is; you are no one to me, other than a pain in the ass, which you've been from the very first time I met you, might I add! So if you don't move your sore-losing, glaring-red-strike ass from my way, well, once we're off this boat--"

"I'd just like some courtesy!" Tristan interrupted. "It's already bad enough you practically assassinated my sword's chances at first place!"

"Assassinated? What the fuck are you talking about? Do you think yourself and your work beyond reproach? Boy, I was honest in my critique. Your sword already got more than it deserved. Pushing the better sword down to third! Pah! At least I can use that weapon. That's what an item is for! And now you're here bothering me. For what? Just trying to cause another fight like you did in Rockmoor? Is it your bloody goal to upset the Guild? Again?"

Tristan didn't back down, even from the veiled threat. His chin lifted slightly. "I'm just speaking up for my craft. I can't change what my Core does. Regardless, Soulbound or not, my sword is well made, and way better than you claimed."

"Your Core--?" Gorrek held up a finger. "So all your gear is Soulbound?"

Tristan stiffened, but also nodded. "I can't use it otherwise."

Gorrek's face reddened as a vein began to rise on his forehead. "Then you couldn't even use any of the gear from my shop, or Garrow's, but you were there anyway--for what? To cause a scene?

"That isn't--"

"You're wasting your breath now, kid. I've already put in the request. Get out of my way, and stay out of my life."

Tristan frowned briefly. What request?

Then he got his answer.

You have earned a second strike from the Steelblood Guild.

His second strike. It was like a sledgehammer to his guts, knocking all the breath from him. He remembered what Billy the driver had told him after getting his first strike:

"The 'tax' more than doubles, and then there are the contracts..."

The man's warning about thieves and assassins had been loud and clear. Tristan hated the idea that he might now have to be more cautious out in the world. He didn't want to be constantly watching over his shoulder.

Tristan's face must have shown just how alarmed he was, because Gorrek chuckled and pushed past him, muttering, "Yeah, that's what I thought. Unguilded upstarts think they can say and do whatever they damn well please."

Tristan just let the dwarf go. He didn't know what else to do at that moment. Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, which was run off somewhere nice and private to yell and maybe even cry. The whole situation seemed so totally unfair.

But he couldn't do any of that, as other members of the crowd were filling in behind Gorrek, actually seeking Tristan out. They asked for his rates on commissions, asked about how long his backlog currently was and whether he'd be willing to take on more jobs.

The whole time, all Tristan could do was clench his jaw to keep from screaming.

- - - - -

Sophie

Sophie didn't want to jinx herself or the event she'd been working so hard on for the last few weeks, but as she took one final look around the ballroom prior to returning to her cabin to change, a part inside of her jumped with joy. Seemingly everything had gone according to plan so far! The caterers were following her timeline to the absolute minute. The decorations and furnishings were all precisely what she'd asked for and placed exactly where she'd designated they should go. She could only pray that the musicians, when they arrived in the next hour, would be similarly prepared to follow the set list she'd set out for them, at least at the start.

She'd lost track of how many times her mother had whispered curses at the musicians she'd hired for reaching beyond their agreed-upon set lists in the heat of the moment. Sophie now understood in part why that was concerning, but she also had to wonder what good were musicians that didn't play wherever the music of the moment led them at least a little bit?

She rushed back to her cabin with her feet hardly touching the floors. After a quick splash of water, it didn't take long at all for her to change into the gorgeous seafoam green gown she'd had one of the tailors in the Web on Deck 8 whip up for her. It was sleeveless, with a floral illusion that rose from the snug band around her waist all the way up and around her neck, leaving only small, classy patches of visible skin.

She was pleased to find that it still fit her as perfectly as it had in the tailor's fitting room, which was good because there were far too many lacy layers and no handmaids around to make any last-minute alterations. With as excited as Sophie currently was, she definitely wouldn't have trusted her own hand to do any seamwork. She struggled even to braid her own hair, which had only grown longer throughout their travels, now reaching well past her shoulders.

She spent the better part of another hour staring into the mirror, weaving a few ribbons into her hair, touching-up her face, and picking the best accessories to compliment her attire. It was a constant fight to ignore the inner saboteur that kept questioning and doubting her every decision in a voice that was all too similar to her mother's.

Luckily, Poof was there with her. Her constant coos and meeps supported Sophie, as did her apparent approval of the matching green bow she was finally leaving undisturbed atop her fluffy head.

Once everything was done, Sophie made her way to a tall chair. She straightened her back before crossing her hands on her lap in one of the poses that all women of the Adrielle family were forced to learn. She thought that even her mother wouldn't have found too much to complain about at that moment; Sophie looked every bit the well-to-do noble's daughter they'd always wanted her to be.

It was the first time she'd ever been happy about all the 'education' she'd received from her upbringing. Still, to spite her mother's memory, she immediately undid one of her braids, mussed her hair, picked up Poof, and snuggled her tight to her chest. "We're beautiful enough we don't need to seem 'perfect,'" she told her closest friend.

Poof happily meeped her agreement, sending positive affirmations through their psychic bond.

This was who Sophie truly was, and she wouldn't pretend to be otherwise.

With a bit of trepidation, she knocked on the door to Tristan's adjoining room. She wasn't sure if he was even in there. If he was, then he'd been exceptionally quiet the whole time she'd been changing. She hoped he was; she'd stressed how important this evening was to her. She also hoped he'd attired himself appropriately for a ball--even though their conversations about it had lowered her expectations for him.

She knocked again, clutching Poof to her a little tighter. Please, she prayed, please be there and--

The door opened, and the Tristan standing there was every bit as proper and impressive as she'd dreamed he could be. He wore a simple but classic black suit that was only slightly too tight around his chest, but given how broad his shoulders were, that was more or less to be expected on such short notice. He'd even managed to tame his mop-like hair, which now fell into smooth waves around a very crisp side part.

"Wow," he said first, clearly taking her in.

"Wow yourself," she said back, enjoying the slight pause her appearance had caused. "That's a really sharp suit. It looks good on you."

"And that dress, you also, uh--"

"Thanks," Sophie said, jumping in quickly to save him from his own embarrassment. In Sophie's arms, Poof puffed herself up.

Tristan must have noticed. "You also look wonderful, Poof. I love that green--on both of you."

Poof gave an appreciative, yet somehow incredibly haughty, nod, while Sophie dipped by habit into a shortened court curtsy.

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'It's good that he recognizes our beauty,' the little astral thought to Sophie.

'Shall we go?' Sophie asked, smiling at Poof and offering Tristan her hand. To her great surprise, he took it and placed it properly upon his inner arm before proceeding to promenade her not only out into the hall but all the way up to the ballroom!

It had only been a couple hours since she'd last seen the place, but with all the lights dimmed and the music spilling over into the halls, it was as though she was seeing the ballroom with fresh eyes. It also helped that she could look at Tristan and measure the excitement in his eyes at every new wonder she'd planned.

The doors opened into a tall, pillared room with streamers and decorations completely covering every corner and wall. Balloons floated in a circle around the ceiling just the faintest breath away from it without ever touching. The enormous banquet table, which Sophie had had to measure three separate times to convince the staff that it would fit, occupied an entire side of the ballroom and was covered with the most decadent and varied spreads she'd seen outside of a royal residence.

The lighting was the perfect dimness to allow the numerous people spread about to feel both included and private. The music was still from her approved setlist, which just told her that either there were not yet enough people to inspire a change or they weren't sufficiently warmed up. Regardless, the feel of the place was entirely welcoming, and she couldn't have been more proud as they walked into her waking dream.

They were met at the door by greeters who offered to take Tristan's jacket, and it was cute to see him defer to her when he didn't know what to answer. "You can always come back to deposit it later if you want," she whispered.

Then they were announced, and the moment his name was spoken she could see that nearly half the room turned toward them. It was a bit unexpected, until she thought to ask a question she'd been too busy to consider before.

"Tristan, I'm sorry I didn't ask before, but how did the Primary contest go?"

She thought she saw his jaw clamp shut, but he smiled again so quickly she might have been mistaken. "My sword placed second."

The tightness of his voice told her there was more to it, but she didn't want to ask about it just yet since dozens of people had begun to converge on them.

Tristan was quickly the center of attention, at least among the dozens of crafters who came to call. What struck Sophie as oddest of all was how they seemingly all opened with an offer of condolences. Comments like:

"You won the Tier 2 Secondary, and, if the gods were watching, you would have won the Tier 2 Primary!"

"You're really talented. It's unfair what happened to you."

And then fully half of them seemed to turn into requests for commissions!

"I hope you know how beautiful that sword was! Why, I'd rather have one of your swords than any of the ones I currently wield."

"How long is your waitlist for commissions, sir? We would like to say we got in on the ground level, before you inevitably become a realm-wide name!"

Sophie had to admit that it was nice not to be the center of it all, and she enjoyed watching someone else be forced to mingle for once. If only Tristan hadn't felt like he had to repeatedly apologize for his Core, it would have been a grand time.

"But you can't even use anything I'd make," he tried to say, and, "No, actually everything I make is Soulbound, so you'd only be getting an art piece."

Over and over Sophie watched as he tried to just patiently smile through all the attention. Little did he seem to know how unreasonable people could be when they thought they were witnessing the arrival of greatness. And truly, that was how these people were acting. It kind of took Sophie by surprise. Of course she'd seen some of his work, but the way these people kept coming up to him and going on and on about his newest sword... She was really starting to wonder if she was missing out by not having seen it earlier.

Eventually, Sophie suggested that Tristan could get a little break by heading to the buffet and filling a plate. He practically leapt at the offer, though he did a fine job of excusing himself from the company of his most recent fans. Sophie naturally accompanied him and was delighted to find that every single dish was exactly as she'd hoped, if not better. By the time they reached the end of the tables, both of their plates were completely filled, with Tristan actually having claimed and stacked a second on top of the first!

"I'm not sure that having more food will actually buy you a longer reprieve," she offered.

"What?" he asked in genuine surprise. "Oh, I wasn't even considering that. It's just that everything looks so good, I kind of want to sample it all."

Poof immediately chimed in with agreement. 'Yes, yes! A human after my own heart!'

Sophie laughed, and together the three of them found a table with two empty seats. Then they sat, ate, and enjoyed the music. Sophie kind of wished she'd followed Tristan's lead and grabbed a second plate, especially with Poof practically inhaling anything that might venture even a smidge too close to her. It was no surprise when Sophie finished her food well before Tristan did.

'Would you like to dance?' she mentally inquired of her astral.

Poof grinned up at her as she blinked her eyelashes rapidly. 'Only if you ask me properly.'

Sophie hugged her little mage. 'My dearest Lady Poof, may I please have the honor of this dance?'

'That would please me greatly,' the cheeky little astral replied.

She wasn't sure exactly how many songs they danced through, as the melodies rose and shifted like the flowers in her mother's garden. They were all beautiful and fleeting. She held Poof up and together they waltzed as though they had not a single care in the world.

It came as a great surprise then when Poof seemed to tire first. 'Thank you for the wonderful dance, Sophie, but I think I've worked up a bit of an appetite again. If you'd be so kind as to set me down over there near the buffet... though I suppose our old table would also suffice.'

It had felt like a joke at first, but Sophie had still obliged her and took a few steps toward their table when she felt a firm tap on her shoulder. "Hey, mind if I cut in?" Tristan asked.

Poof meeped aloud, clearly letting it be known that she was fine with this, so Sophie sat her gently on the table and turned back to the surprising gentleman before her.

He held out his hands a bit awkwardly, and as Sophie took them, he began to dance with her, hardly stepping on her toes at all. "Sorry about all those people before," he said. "It's been like that all day."

"Don't be sorry! It just shows how well received your work was! That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

As the song came to an end and they finished their dance, he stopped and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a simple paper packet wrapped in twine. "I wanted to give you this as an apology of sorts. I'm sorry I didn't ask you to the ball before. I really was just off in my own world."

He held the parcel out to her.

"Tristan, the apology is plenty. I don't need... whatever this is, too."

"I know," he said, "but I still think you'll like it, so I want you to have it."

As she accepted it, she couldn't help but note that for something that fit so easily into her palm, it had a good weight. "Should I open it now?"

Tristan smiled nervously. "Definitely."

Intrigued, she pulled the twine to one side and slid her finger into the paper wrapper where a solid, cool thunk met her fingers. It felt like metal. She looked up at him quizzically, but his smile had grown steady now, and it nearly pushed her to tear the package apart to get at the prize inside already.

Instead, she calmly worked it open, making sure not to tear anything too fiercely. She had to maintain the appearance of decorum after all.

And then a pendant dropped into her unexpecting hand. It was beautiful--perhaps the most beautiful piece of jewelry she'd ever owned--and she knew she wouldn't understand the what or how or why of it until she could use [Identify] on it. As she tried it on, she realized she couldn't equip it properly no matter how she tried. She didn't get any benefits from it. That told her it was Soulbound, which meant it was one of Tristan's creations. One he'd made and given to her.

She couldn't use it, but that hardly mattered. It was stunning. She loved the way it mixed black and white into swirls that never muddied into gray. She loved the teardrop shape, and how it seemed embraced by the metallic fire-like shape behind it. She loved that the design flowed from smooth and firm at the teardrop bottom to the flowing edges near the top. She even loved that the chain was just long enough to have it draw attention to her collarbones, but not lower. It was the first piece of jewelry she'd ever seen that spoke to her.

It didn't matter that whatever properties it had were useless to her. For the first time in her life, she didn't even care what they were. She would wear this pendant anyway... at least until she got a better piece of gear to swap to in combat situations. And even then, she still planned to keep this near at hand. It would be for more than just evenings out or special events.

"It's... Tristan, it's amazing," she finally managed to say after finding her voice again. "Thank you. I love it."

She saw the young swordsmith swell with pride. He'd earned it. But then he surprised her again.

"May I have the next dance as well then, please?"

The pairing of the words she'd taught him to say, with his hand outstretched exactly as she'd taught him to, reinforced the smile that was already on her face. "Why, Mister Hammerson, I would be delighted."

They began with an upbeat waltz, and he actually managed to avoid her toes altogether this time! Then the music shifted and slowed. She felt Tristan's arms tighten as his body language grew more reserved. For a moment, even through all the awkwardness and his lack of training, Sophie thought Tristan might someday actually grow to be good at this if he so desired. She might even enjoy teaching him, if he'd let her.

She wondered about how long their little team-up would last. How long would he want to stay with her, and her family? How would they feel if--or when--he left?

But rather than worry about hypothetical eventualities, Sophie chose to enjoy the admittedly stiff dance with the young man who'd already given her more than any non-relative ever had. Perhaps he'd given her more than her blood family, too. She melted into their dance, feeling the flow with and through his lead, and truly enjoyed herself.

Sophie pulled back just as she recognized that the song was about to end, and she was glad to see that the hints of discomfort had mostly fled from Tristan's face.

"That was actually quite nice," she said. "Your dancing has improved a lot in only one day."

Tristan immediately grimaced and scratched the back of his head. "I still stepped on your toes earlier."

"But not nearly as many times as yesterday, and only really at the start."

"I guess I had a good teacher," he said, letting his steady smile show again.

With her hand safely resting on the crook of Tristan's elbow, Sophie followed him back to their table. Poof barely acknowledged their return, apparently having convinced another guest to bring her a plate full of pastries.

Sophie internally groaned. She's not going to want to sleep at all tonight. She was about to ironically thank the responsible party when she recognized who it was.

Inspiration Jack himself was sitting at her table, wearing a very dapper three-piece suit the color of shale. "I tried not to give her too much," he began, "but when I returned with the plate only half full, her look was so lamentable and accusatory that I couldn't help but provide her with more."

He acknowledged and bowed his head to Tristan. "Young Hammerson, I am pleased to see that you have elected to join the revelry this evening. Perhaps you're even ready to celebrate your own accomplishments?"

Two conflicting emotions seemed to pass quickly across Tristan's face, but in the end he brightened as he greeted the old elf. "Hey, Spiro. I wanted to come to support Sophie, you know? And now I'm really glad I did, because she really has put on an incredible party. I wasn't sure what to expect, but this is kind of fun. I think I might stay until they kick me out!"

The elf smiled, showcasing the few wrinkles normally hiding on his smooth yet ancient face. "Given that this evening marks the end of this particular voyage, I don't doubt that several people will wish to celebrate along with you. That said, I am pleased both to have the opportunity to catch up with you again and to see you fitting in so well, even on the dance floor." He pointed back over their shoulders, indicating where they'd just come from.

"I really shouldn't take any credit for the dancing," Tristan replied. "That was all Sophie. As for the smithing, well, I'll take those compliments gladly."

The elf inclined his head before changing the conversation, clearly not wanting to further indulge that particular subject. "How have you two been finding your time aboard the Ark? Was it everything you imagined and more?"

Tristan responded quickly. "Well, as a first-timer, I've been pleasantly surprised by just how well it's all gone. Other than... one thing. And I've leveled a lot."

"I've heard as much," Jack acknowledged. "It's always on a person's first voyage where the most growth can be made."

"You're a frequent flier?" Tristan asked.

Sophie looked immediately at the old elf who somehow didn't burst into knowing laughter. All he said was, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Sophie joined in to help the elf keep his secrets. "I've also had quite a pleasant time here. The staff has been wonderful, and with their help and some grinding in the gym, I've grown quite a bit, a full level in fact!"

The elf called Spiro shook his head. "People like you are why we bother to keep it open, though there are admittedly too few of your kind aboard. I'd wager you never saw anyone else there--other than those paid to be."

Sophie chuckled. "You'd win that bet. It was only ever me, my astrals, and the staff."

Tristan shook his head. "I thought about going once."

"As do we all," the elf agreed. "You, however, were quite busy enough without added distractions. You both were, as this magnificent ball can attest!"

"Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

Tristan's eyebrows pinched as he looked toward her. "Are there any other big surprises or plans you've built into this evening?"

Sophie winked at him. "It's a good thing you want to stay to the end, then, isn't it?"

As if in reply, a message came through the Farewell Ball Planning group she'd founded from the head caterer himself.

Gordon: I know it's early, but the six-tiered cake is now finished! Sophie, would you like to accelerate its scheduled reveal or hold out for the extra 30 minutes, as originally planned?

Across the table the old elf, having clearly read the same message as she, raised one hand in a gesture of Whatever you want.

Sophie: Let's go ahead and do it! It will be a showstopper, Gordon, and I can't wait to see all your hard work! Gordon: Our hard work, Sophie. We did all of this together.

Sophie beamed as she thought about what he said, and there was something important there. Everything was coming together perfectly, but it was because of all of them working together. This whole event--this place, the staff, the patrons--it was more like a family than anything else she'd ever known. It felt like an extension of what she had with her astrals. They were unified by a love and purpose so pure it transcended any bonds made merely of blood. There was something to that.

Her thoughts began to race. This was the first time in her life that she'd really felt connected to a group of people other than her astrals. She'd had a few friends before, but it hadn't been a 'friend group.' More than that, she'd never truly felt like a part of their lives. Not like she did here. These people had poured their heart and souls into this celebration and made it with her. They would remember her when she was gone, and remember her when she came back. This was how she felt a family should be.

That was it. Family.

Gordon clearly made some reply, but Sophie wasn't able to focus enough to read it, as before her very eyes Poof was starting to glow. Stranger still, she was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, almost as though she'd been granted a much higher tier buff and her body didn't know how to cope with it.

Across the table, the old elf began to rise with mouth agape, his eyes shifting rapidly from Sophie to Poof and back again.

A sudden jolt of energy thumped deep within Sophie's chest. What had begun as elation and satisfaction with a job well and finally done was quickly growing more tangible. Golden energy began to pulse into her from all angles. With every beat of her heart she began to feel more powerful, more alive, and more connected to everything around her. Colors were more vibrant. Sounds were more opulent. Suddenly she was like a star from the astral sea, radiating iridescent light and energy. She could feel her feet lifting from the ground.

Three powerful and overwhelming DINGS! filled the magically-expanded room and bounced off the distant walls. Three halos of gold, green, and blue raced around her, infusing her with life.

As Sophie's feet settled back to the ground, and the adrenaline started to fade, she released the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

A scroll of golden notifications awaited her at the bottom of her vision, though it was quickly being pushed upward as the Farewell Ball Planning group chat was increasingly being filled with every variation of "Congratulations!" she'd ever hoped to see and more--including one from Jack himself that called it, "Very well deserved."

INSPIRATION! You have realized a fundamental truth about yourself and your relationship with the Realm. In so doing, you've expanded your knowledge and ability!

. . .

There was more, so much more, to scroll through. But rather than deal with it all now, Sophie took the briefest of moments to truly appreciate what had just happened.

She'd made something worthy.

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