2-2

The builders strode home from work as the sun shone with the warm glow of the evening. Reba lagged behind, fingers red from the endless chain-making, while her father chatted jovially with the other builders. The younger ones were making plans for the beach before the sun went down, and while she was alone, mumbling to herself, not even showing a hint of interest in being included. She always stuck to herself.

And, like always, Koji noticed and lingered behind to be the one to speak to her. “I’ve got something new to try for dinner today,” her father said, his voice carrying a faint excitement. “A new recipe I got from a merchant a few days ago.”

“Is it a potato?” Reba asked flatly. Her eyes sagged like weighted bean bags as she walked.

Koji pursed his lips at the suggestion. Potatoes were a staple in the Kotter household—cheap, easy to obtain, and a way to save their sina for emergencies. He thought they were a well-rounded food, with enough textures and preparation styles to keep meals interesting.

“Not just any potato,” he whispered, making sure to keep an air of mystery. “This potato… is on a stick.”

With a dramatic flourish, he produced a potato skewered on a stick from thin air. The way he presented it, Reba might’ve imagined fireworks exploding behind him, the stick spinning like some grand spectacle. But in the end, it was still just a plain potato.

Reba ignored the gesture. Koji might have thought she was still sulking from earlier, but this was simply how she was around him—hardly smiling, hardly ever seeming sincere.

It reminded him of Ruby, in the days after they learned Romy wasn’t coming home. She had a beautiful smile, but after that day, it never quite reached her eyes again. Whenever she tried, it was as if a great boulder hung from her lips, making the effort a strain on her entire body.

But maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe she just didn’t like potatoes.

They arrived at their home and soon after were delivered two children by the neighborhood mothers. With them came the thundering embrace of the littlest Kotter, Krisa—hitting Reba first, then Koji.

At six, Krisa had grown into her walking and talking, her voice carrying a unique lisp from her lack of adult teeth. She was brimming with life, overflowing with the energy of childish discovery. Eleven now, her brother wasn’t far behind. Kayleb had grown into a somber and serious boy. Often, he would drift into his own world, always solving some great puzzle in his thoughtful mind.

The family gathered around the dinner table, waiting for their routine meal of potatoes after a long day. Koji tried once again to pull off his potato-on-a-stick joke, but only managed to amuse Krisa, who burped and laughed at her own smells rather than his showmanship.

Defeated, he took the potato to the pot and started the cooking fire.

“Did you hear the horns today, Reba?” Kayleb asked.

“Big and loud horns, and everyone screaming like AHHH!” Krisa added.

“No… You can’t hear a thing from the dungeons,” Reba muttered. “Why? Did something happen?”

“The other kids said the horns meant the Archas Knights were coming home. And there’s only one knight who would bother to come anywhere near the Scrappers’ District.”

“Osher Strongbow!?” She shot up from her chair. “You’re telling me he passed by here today?”

“Probably,” Kayleb shrugged.

Reba plummeted back into her seat, utterly deflated. “And I missed him.”

“I’m sure he missed you, too,” Kayleb said, smirking. “You should ask if he’d marry you.”

“How ‘bout I marry my palm to the back of your head?” she shot back, pouting.

“I don’t understand the obsession with that man,” Koji interjected as he placed plates on the table.

“Any spirit that’s ever crossed into the human realm fears his name. They quiver and cry cuz they know the Omni Knight’s going to slay them all. He protects us.” She started whispering to the kids. “I heard he once defeated a legendary spirit simply by flexing his rump at it. And that he arm wrestled The Headless Titan and won. Oh, what about the story of him riding into the Neri to outsmart the deadmen guarding its gates? Not only did he come back alive, but he had the talons of Piamon’s famous raven in his pocket.”

Krisa chuckled at the stories while Kayleb lost his eyes trying to imagine them. “It's because he can use whatever archaea he wants. He can even be a builder… Don’t see why he would want to, though.”

“Nothing fascinating about fighting. More respect in making something with your own two hands, I’d say. That’s why we Builders stay far from the battlefield.” Koji said, setting a roasted potato on a stick in front of each of them. “You shouldn’t look up to people who live to hurt others. It ain’t right. All this violence—it’s poisoning kids today. Everyone wants to fight, and no one wants to work. It’s a plague, I tell you.”

He sat in his chair at the head of the table, opposite Reba, as she scowled down at her potato.

“Don’t listen to him,” Reba said, inspecting the potato in her hand. “Just because he couldn’t defend us from a pack of rodents, he thinks fighting to protect people is wrong.”

“Reba,” Koji’s voice cut in sharply. “What gives you the right to tell them not to listen to me, their father?”

She barely registered the stiffness in his tone. “You can make bad decisions just like anyone else. And if I had to choose between following Osher Strongbow and the words of Koji Kotter, I know which I’d pick.”

Silence followed, thick and heavy. Koji drilled an angry stare into his daughter. Reba, with hardly any effort, disregarded it. Eventually, she pulled the stick from the potato and just used a knife and fork like always.

Despite her tender fingers, she was happy to conjure something that wasn’t a chain, even if it was as mundane as silverware.

It took her about a minute to form. Its simple design left little room for error. Her personal touch gave it two large silver prongs instead of the usual four or three, which evened out the weight without her having to think about it.

When she looked up, she saw her siblings attempting to mimic her work.

Kayleb managed to shape the stem of the fork with little issue, but the prongs gave him trouble. Every time he tried to carve out the contours, he accidentally disconnected the head from the stem.

“Here. Pretend your fingertips are the knife and you’re cutting into a potato. That, for some reason… you want to look like a fork. Pretend it already exists, and draw your hands over its shape. Then with a little hard work, it’ll appear,” she instructed.

Kayleb’s fork ended up larger than hers, with dulled points, but it was functional. He seemed proud of himself as Reba patted him on his head, smiling motherly.

Krisa, on the other hand…

“Look, Papa! I did it!”

She held up a spiky, oblong creation that could only be described as a mix between a deadly weapon and an acorn.

Koji plucked it from her hand. “It’s beautiful…” he said blankly.

He placed the jagged mess into a cubby already overflowing with a thousand other “forks.”

The Krisa pile.

 Since it took an intentional effort to make a build disappear, and Krisa lacked the skill to do so, it held enough sharp objects to start a world war.

They ate. Krisa with her hands. Reba and Kayleb with their forks. Koji, chewing methodically, arched his brow at his eldest daughter. His fingers tapped the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Reba noticed his irritation but continued eating as if nothing was wrong.

“I bet he’s back for the Sachaea Academy determinations,” she said casually, filling the silence.

“Ohh… That must be why there are so many people around and why there are guards everywhere,” Kayleb added.

“Yep. That time of year. Hundreds of poor saps from all over the world will go home crying when they’re told they’re not good enough to be Archas Knights.”

“That’s why it’s a waste of time,” Koji muttered through a bite of his potato.

“People spend all their savings just to get here. But most of em get turned away at the door. They try to say anyone can join the knights, but one glance at em can tell you that ain’t true. There’s a reason there ain’t Selplian Knights.”

“Because they keep going on about how they're just builders.”

Before Koji could respond, a voice called from outside.

“Hello! Koji! It’s me…”

Reba bolted upright. “Uncle Kreo!” Within half a minute, the door was open, and she stood face to face with the voice’s owner. The other children fed off Reba’s energy, leaping from their seats, leaving Koji as the last to rise for the arrival of his brother.

“Hey there, rosebud,” Kreo said softly when Reba came to him.

It was a nickname he’d brought back from some long-forgotten adventure, an old term used by nature archads during their training—a bud before the bloom. Over the years, it had replaced the embrace of his arms, which he always withheld upon his returns.

Kreo Kotter had grown lean over the years. His skin had darkened from overexposure to the sun, but the piercings in his face gleamed, freshly polished. A steel plate covered his chest beneath a leather coat that seemed far too heavy for the day’s heat. His sharp, black goatee framed a face that held the focused intensity of a wolf.

“It’s about time you’re back,” Reba said.

“Only for a short while,” Kreo replied.

“Just in time. There’s something I needed to tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“Not now. It’s private.” She lowered her voice, stealing a glance at her father, who sighed in disapproval.

“What brings you around these parts this time?” Koji asked.

“Business.” Kreo stepped inside but didn’t take the time to remove any of his travel gear. “Part of the extra help to keep peace for the determinations this year.”

“Where did you come from this time?” Reba asked excitedly. “Did you see any spirits? Did you fight any?”

“No.” Kreo cleared his throat. “But I do have gifts.”

From his pocket, he pulled three small, charmed bracelets, their beaded strands shifting between a deep purple-blue and a sharp, iridescent green. He handed one to each of the children.

“What is it?” Kayleb asked.

“I made these while visiting Oseidi. They’re charms meant to calm the ocean spirits when worn, keeping boats from tipping over. Though… these are just imitations I made on the ride back.”

The children were ecstatic over their gifts, though Kreo gave them as if he were nothing more than a deliveryman, handing over something that didn’t belong to him. There was no joy in it, no expectation of gratitude.

Krisa immediately throttled her bracelet, testing its durability, already brainstorming all the ways it could be used as a toy. Kayleb scrutinized his, skeptical of the idea that something so small could repel spirits. Reba tossed hers into her pocket, more interested in the man than the gift.

“So what’s in the Osa Realm?” she asked.

“The Osa.”

“You know what I mean. It’s the Water Realm, right? They say all the water in the world pours from a great fall there. I heard it’s cold and rainy and that the people have fins. But that can’t be true, right? The Osa in Armonia don’t have fins—unless they’re hiding them somehow.”

Koji interrupted. “Reba, the man just come from a long journey. I’m sure all he’d want to do now is rest. Give him a moment to breathe.” Reba whipped her head around, as if her father had said something vile.

Kreo interjected. “I can’t stay long anyhow.”

“Really? Then let's go.” Reba grabbed his wrist and pulled him out the door.

“Where!?” her father called.

“For a walk.”

She had grown strong over the years. When she wanted to take Kreo somewhere, he would need to apply real force to stop her. And he was not one to risk harming his niece.

The moon shone bright in the sky, casting silver light over the city as night settled in. Despite the hour, the streets remained lively, muffled voices and laughter leaking from the stacked houses around them. The wind was gentle, and the district soaked in the chaotic relief of the evening.

“What is it, rosebud?”

“Like I said, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Well, at the very least, I was hoping for a meal when I got here,” Kreo muttered.

“Fine,” Reba relented. “But we’re going to a tavern. I want some real food.”

Despite being one of the poorer groups in the city, the scrappers had the most extravagant taverns. The builders could craft their own furniture, break it down, and redesign it without the cost of hiring anyone else. And the most successful taverns were the ones with the most inviting atmosphere.

Food and drink weren’t always the main draw. Selplians couldn’t conjure their own sustenance. But anything that didn’t taste like a mud pie was always a bonus. The real allure of a Selplian tavern was entertainment.

When they stepped inside the one closest to the Kotter home, they were greeted by the loud, melodic voice of an Osa singer, hired to perform for the city’s busiest week. The place was packed—not just with builders, but with archads from out of town, eager to experience the famed Selplian hospitality.

The Osa woman sang a long-time favorite folk song of theirs, a drinking shanty that had the whole tavern chanting in unison:

“There once was a girl with lips of gold, ayoooo ayo.
She had no man and no coin to hold, ayoooo ayo.
The ocean man rode a wave of deceit.
With wood and water and dirt as his feet.
And when he kissed the gold, he cried ayooo ayo.
Ayooo ayo, ayoooo ayo.
And when he kissed the gold, he cried ayooo ayo.”

Kreo conjured his own stool rather than using one of the prebuilt metal seats, like the one Reba sat on.

She was used to it by now, but it was still one of those quirks that made her consider dragging the “Uncle Kreepo” nickname out of retirement. He did it everywhere he went—effortlessly, efficiently. She’d asked him why once, and he said that it kept his skills sharp. If he was not the best builder he could be, then his company might look elsewhere for a smith.

But it didn’t make it any less awkward when he did it in public.

A server passed by, balancing a platter in one hand. “What can I get the both of yas? Drink? Food? Company?”

“I’ll have whatever she gets,” Kreo said, gesturing toward Reba.

“Umm… Seafeet and a Vircan pepper fry,” she said quickly, more than happy to order something pricey on his coin.

The server nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Kreo watched her leave, then casually scanned the rest of the bar. “So many people here…”

“If it's tight, we can go somewhere else.”

“What is it you wanted to say?” He jumped straight to the point. And Reba realized it might not have been a great idea to bring him to a crowded tavern. She lowered her voice so only Kreo could hear her with his perceptive ears.

“I found another one.”

“Reba… You have to stop doing this.”

“She’s only about ten. Hiding somewhere between the Scrappers’ and the port.  Didn’t look like she had anywhere else to go. She’s about as tall as my waist with a burn mark on her neck. I would’ve gotten her name, but she ran off with my coin. The spirit was in her.”

“What spirit?”

“Greed. It was by the docks in a treasure chest, she said.”

“Ah. You’re aware it's called the Coin Mimic?”

“So will your company take her?”

“I’ll make sure someone finds her. But in the meantime, you must stop seeking them out on your own.”

“Who else will, uncle? If I hadn’t done anything, she would’ve been left frozen for years. Probably forever.”

“I understand, rosebud, but these… people… are fragile. They are replicas of the spirit that made them that way, and I needn’t remind you how dangerous the spirits are.”

“I’ll never forget it. But there’s nothing here I can’t handle.”

“All it takes is one overconfident mistake, and all on your own, there’s no one to save you.”

“Who says I need saving? I’m not just a builder. I’m a warrior like my uncle.”

Kreo sighed.

“Look. If you’re that concerned about me being on my own, just let me join your company?” She said.

Kreo met her grey eyes, expressionless, and curtly said, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Reba snapped, her annoyance sparking instantly.

“There’s only one meaning of the word that I know of. If you’re unaware, in this context, it means you cannot join my company.”

“But I’ve kept up with all the training you taught me—my weapon builds, my coordination. I’ve been practicing for a hundred moons, and if I’m old enough to work in the factory, I’m old enough for an expedition or two. I think I’m capable and ready to leave this city, don’t you?”

“I’m sure you do… but you’re only fourteen. The world is vast, and a young girl is bound to get lost in its dangers. Life outside large communities like this is…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Is what?”

“Ah. I think the right wording is—your father would hate me with every fiber of his being.”

“Well, he could get over it. If I made as much sina as you do, he’d have no right to complain.”

Kreo exhaled slowly. “To put it bluntly, Reba, you would not belong. Your place is here, in Armonia, with your family.”

Reba frowned. “You’re my family.”

A silence hung between them.

Just then, the server returned with their food—two plates of seafeet and vircan pepper fry. The former was the cooked feet of a seafoot ostrich, caught fresh from the local shores. Moist, gamy, and tender, it was one of Reba’s favorites. The latter, a bowl of chili and fried peppers grown by fire archads, meaning it was the spiciest dish around.

The plates sizzled as they were set down, but even so, Kreo reached into his satchel and produced his own silver plate.

Without a word, Reba picked up his serving and slid it onto his personal dish.

The server blinked, momentarily dumbfounded.

“O…kay. Guess I’ll get those plates out your way, then.” She took the extra dishes, quietly wondering if they were dirty, despite having scrubbed them clean just moments ago.

Kreo, letting his food cool, casually observed the tavern. His gaze landed on a group of young men across the room. They were dressed far too lavishly for these parts, and their attempts to blend in with the rowdiness were awkward at best. They clearly didn’t know the words to the Osa woman’s songs, but they did their best to look dignified despite it.

“Why not think about joining them instead?” Kreo pointed.

Reba followed his gaze and scowled. “What? Them? I think they’re here for the determinations. Why would I join them?”

“You said you were capable.”

“It’s not about being capable with the Archas Knights,” she scoffed.

“The Archas Knights, since their inception, have been without knights of only two archaea. Selplian and Havi. The Havi are sworn not to take part or choose sides in the wars of mortal men. Selplians can’t say the same.”

“What? You think I’m going to walk right up to Sachaea Academy looking like this? With my archaea?” She gestured at her worn-down clothes. But looking down, she still wore the scarf that she wore when she was a child. It was pinned around the waist of her striped leather shorts. And it would never leave.

“It wouldn’t matter if you had an invitation?”

“Eh? I don’t. So don’t even bring it up. It’s a waste of a thought.”

“I hear Naciere Strongbow is competing this year.”

Reba instinctively went to rub her collarbone. “Competing? Bah. She could walk blind five times into a wall, and they’d still make her a knight. They’d take anyone like her. She was practically born with nicknames and songs about her. Did you know they call her the Infinite? I don’t even know what that means, but I wasn’t born with no nickname.”

“It means…” Kreo said after finally taking a bite of his food. “She is the mother’s chosen hero. The one that will save mankind from all spirits.”

Reba chewed her tongue. “Is that right?”

“Isn’t it your goal… to fight spirits?”

“When did I say that?”

“So you were planning to leave the Coin Mimic be, down by the docks, where it could poison someone else?”

Reba choked on her food. “I don’t know what you mean…”

Kreo sighed. “Rosebud, I know where your heart is. If that’s what you want, then the Archas Knights have the same goal.”

She cleared her throat, unsure of why her uncle knew what he did but felt no point in arguing. “But they don’t care for victims. They toss aside any wrath, the same as the Spirits. So I don’t belong any more with them than I would anywhere else… But if that Naciere Strongbow slays all the spirits, then… then that’ll be better for everyone. There’ll be no more wraths and no more suffering. Doubtful she’s looking for a conjurer to help her out with that.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Kreo finished his bowl, but Reba had lost her appetite in the conversation, having only taken a single bite. “But even I know that it is not a fight you want to do alone. Just be careful.”

“No need to worry. I know exactly what I’m doing. I never jump into a situation unprepared, and preparation is a Selplian’s greatest tool, is what you builders say.”

Their dinner was interrupted by an old woman carrying a basket of roses through the tavern. She was woefully out of place, covered head to toe in dirty cloth that hid the top half of her face.

“Care to buy a rose?” the woman asked, her voice soft and cracked with age.

Kreo looked at her incredulously, then scratched his neck. “No, thank you.”

“Who in the world is looking for roses in a tavern?” Reba asked. “Don’t you have any better places to sell old woman?”

“Now now. No need to be harsh, young man,” the woman said.

“Young man? I’m a girl, thank you.”

“Oh. I didn’t notice.”

Reba fought the urge to ball her fists, even though she never cared about her outward appearance. She was never the type to put on dresses or clean her fingernails. Her figure was boyish in every sense of it. Still, when people said she looked like a boy, they usually meant it as an insult, and so she took it as such.

Just then, Kreo nudged himself from the table and left the payment for the meal.

“Where are you going?” Reba asked.

“I’m late for something.”

“You’re not gone gone, are you?”

“I’ll stop by again before it's time to leave the city.”

“Promise?”

“You know I can’t, rosebud.”

He went to pat Reba on the head but stopped a beat short. He bowed his head slightly and went off, leaving Reba in some field of disappointment.

She knew Kreo’s work was the most important thing to him, but it was the reason she only got to see him for moments at a time. He’d pop in and, like a magic trick, be gone in the next moment, often without a proper goodbye. It made every time seeing him feel suddenly like the last time. But all she could do was watch him leave.

But this time, he turned back with one more parting question. “Did that girl take all your gold?”

“Don’t remind me… why?”

But he turned to continue walking, and she continued watching until there was nothing to see. “He’s still so weird.”

“Care for a rose?” the old woman asked, scaring Reba out of her boots. “You could use something to make you look a little more ladylike.”

Reba scoffed. “Listen, you old bag, I’ve got no reason to be looking ladylike. And I don’t care for flowers.”

The woman frowned. “Now, now. Don’t be a rebel. Spirits are known to be attracted to deviants.”

Before Reba could react, the woman reached out and planted a rose in her dreadlocked hair.

“Hey!”

“Now that suits you.”

Reba plucked the flower from her hair, ready to toss it, but paused. It was a strange-looking rose. A dark, bleeding purple—almost black. It was a little rose of chaos. Her uncle did like to call her rosebud.

“Hey, lady, first rule of being a Selplian—don’t give away your products for free…”

“Who are you calling, lady?”

When Reba turned, the old woman was gone, and a middle-aged man with a pointed chin was there. She instinctively stepped to the side, letting him walk past her. 

“I guess she’s gone too…” Reba tucked the flower in her pocket.

She sat alone for a moment in the tavern, watching the group of Archas Knight’s candidates. She wondered why her uncle thought she could be one of them. It wasn’t that the thought had never crossed her mind, but people had their places in the world.

Archaea was restrictive; once one was born, their lot in life was chosen for them. It was according to the All Mother’s great plan. Builder’s archaea was never made for fighting. It was slow and meticulous. When put up against something that could form lightning and wind from its fingers, it was impractical. The opponent would not sit and wait for her to craft her own weapon.

This was the real reason they didn’t fight. The real reason a builder would never be an Archas Knight, no matter how hard they tried.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight the spirits. She just had to do it her own way.