AN: I tried to make it clear textually but, just to be safe, the number in parenthesis next to Glenn's name is his age at the time of the scene. It's a feature for this chapter alone, since the scenes in other chapters are easier to identify in relationship to canon, and aren't likely to cover more than a year or two at a time.
Content warning for the final scene in the chapter. Glenn, as a child, is put in a rather uncomfortable and sexually charged situation, and puberty is rather humiliating.
Also I apologise in advance for the uneven chapter lengths. I like to tell myself the chapter divides are thematic.
Glenn (5)
Glenn is five and he drags his practice sword out into the yard. The straw practice dummy stands waiting for him, glaring angrily down at him from on high.
His brother Dario is eleven, and Karsh is twelve, and they have long since graduated from the practice dummy, in fact, they would tear it to shreds if they went at it with their new equipment. They're standing over near the precipice above the canal and parrying blows with weapons forged not of wood and reeds, like Glenn's, but with hard, cold steel, fresh out of Zappa's forge. General Viper himself commissioned Dario's sword, in deference to their father, and as a reward for the hard work he put in practicing his swordsmanship.
Karsh's axe, on the other hand, had been an early birthday present from his parents. Zappa had beamed as he handed it to his son, directly after Dario had received his own weapon. Zippa had shaken her head, but once Karsh had turned around to swing the axe excitedly at an imaginary foe, she stood up straighter, crossed her arms, and smiled softly.
Karsh jumps out of the way of Dario's sword before ducking and swinging up at Dario's middle. Dario diverts the blow easily and swings back, as if they were dancing a well-planned dance, rather than trading potentially lethal blows. It is a precise science and, bewitching as it is to watch, neither of them has a moment to look back at Glenn standing in the yard.
That's fine though. Glenn had already vowed, watching the awe and the wonder in Karsh and Dario's faces as they received their new weapons, that he, too, would practice and practice as long as it took so that he, too, could get a brand new sword and sign up for tourneys and fight bad guys and spar with a real sword, just like his brother. Glenn tells himself he's satisfied with the practice dummy for now, and turns back to attack it.
His sword is almost as big as he is, and he struggles to lift it over his head to swing at the practice dummy. He lands hit after hit after hit, trying his best to hold the sword steady over his head and pointing the blunt tip at the dummy's abdomen, which isn't as good as the dummy's neck, but…
He lifts the sword up again, but his elbows are buckling under the weight. He ignores it and strikes again, and again, until-
The sword swerves out of control, slipping out of his hands. His arms extend and-
His brother is suddenly there, and catches the sword before it falls on Glenn's head.
"Glenn, you can't overwork yourself like that," Dario says, leaning the sword against the fence.
The even tone of Dario's voice, absent of exasperation or frustration, makes Glenn feel ashamed. He wishes Dario would get angry instead. If Dario got angry, then Glenn could get angry too, and if they were both angry, the distance between them wouldn't be so large, and his brother so unreachable.
"Like I thought," Dario continues, "you're just too young for this kind of training. You'll just end up hurting yourself, Glenn."
Glenn pouts and he wants to argue, but when Dario gets like this, he can never be proven wrong.
"Aw, Dario, come off it- You're just wasting time with the kid so you can get extra rest before our next bout. Afraid you'll lose~? I'm raring to go already!"
Karsh is leaning over the fence and leering at Dario challengingly.
Dario sighs. "Karsh, whether you sympathise or not, my brother is going to get seriously injured if he keeps going the way he's going. Since he's too small to hold a sword properly, he needs to listen to me and get back inside."
"That is the biggest load of bull I've ever heard," Karsh declares. "I'll take care of this."
Karsh jumps over the fence and grabs Glenn's wooden sword. He swings it absently before holding it out for Glenn to take.
Glenn reaches for it tentatively, and then more assuredly as Karsh grabs his shoulder to steady him.
"Clearly you've got a good idea of the footwork, junior, but you know what your problem is?"
Glenn flushes at the compliment as he shakes his head. Karsh thinks his footwork is good. He can think of about a dozen problems with his form, but after that, none of them seem that important.
"Your problem – is that you need to put more weight into your swings. Do you know where your weight is?"
Glenn shakes his head again.
"It's down here," Karsh raps his knuckles on Glenn's chest. "Your shoulders. Your chest. Your core. Where it's not is a metre above your head. Hold your weapon level to your chest and swing your whole body into the blow."
Karsh takes out his axe and demonstrates, turning his chest and shoulders into each attack as he drives the blunt end of his weapon against the strawman. He's pulling his blows, but the dummy shakes under the buffeting force anyhow, and bits of straw fly everywhere.
"Like that," Karsh says, standing and stepping back. "Now you go."
Glenn purses his lip. "But…"
He pauses.
"Out with it, kid. I ain't got all day."
"If I don't hold the sword up, I can't hit anywhere good on the dummy," Glenn admits moodily. "Like the stomach or the neck…"
Karsh looks at him, surprised, and then bursts out laughing. "Gods, listen to this kid, Dario! What're you teachin' him?! Who'd have thought the pipsqueak could be so bloodthirsty?"
"Like you've been any help at all with that," Dario snips moodily.
Karsh ignores him though, turning back to Glenn.
"Don't worry about that, kid." He ducks down to Glenn's height. "Until you're bigger, you want to hit for their knees," he declares, pointing at the tips of the stumpy legs on the dummy. "It won't kill 'em, but the knees are sensitive, so it'll hurt like hell. And once they fall down to your height…"
He lets Glenn's imagination fill in the rest.
Glenn nods briefly and turns back to his task. He follows Karsh's advice and aims his blow right for the dummy's knees.
"This is ridiculous," Dario says. "If he attacks like that, it'll leave his head completely vulnerable to an enemy attack. What if they just strike straight down, with superior reach?"
Concern and worry are radiating from him in waves.
"Dario," Karsh replies, "it's a bundle of straw." He then turns to Glenn and shouts, "And attack from the sides! Dance around their feet! Don't give them a clear opening to strike!"
Glenn nods and jumps to the left of the dummy to strike at the knees sideways.
"Karsh…" Dario starts.
Karsh swings his arm over his friend's shoulder. "Dario, I know why you're upset, after what happened with your dad and everything, but let the kid have some fun, okay?"
Dario falls silent again. Glenn doesn't glance away from his practice.
Karsh lets Dario lean on him a second longer before letting go of him and stepping forward to ruffle Glenn's hair.
"You too, junior. Don't let what happened with your dad get you down."
Glenn isn't.
He quickly swats Karsh's hand away and lunges at the strawman with his sword.
His father was always out on one expedition or another, and Glenn rarely saw him for more than a day between missions, many of which were months long. And then when he came home, to the shack they rented from the Smithy, all he ever seemed to do was tell Glenn what to do and confiscate his secret stash of day-old Viper Churros. Even if his father was gone for good now, after his trip to the Divine Dragon Falls, Glenn didn't see what difference it would make.
And Sir Radius had come by and promised to visit often and provide for Glenn and his brother. And Sir Radius was nice enough. At the very least, he wouldn't boss Glenn around as much.
Glenn (6)
Zappa was a veritable giant and his wife Zippa was taller than even most men, her husband included, so it was no surprise to Glenn than Karsh was becoming taller and more burly by the day.
And all the good food didn't hurt either.
Lodging at the Smithy came with a meal a day included pro bono. With Glenn's parents both gone and Sir Radius away on missions more often than not, nobody was officially responsible for feeding him, but Zappa and Zippa made a valiant effort. It was no easy feat, but day in and day out, Zippa would have snacks for everybody waiting behind the front counter around noon, and Zappa would prepare a feast for five every evening, oftentimes more if Riddel or another friend was visiting.
Of course, Glenn did not know well enough to properly appreciate it back then. He wished Zippa's snacks included Viper Churros more often, and he had never quite trusted the fact that it was Karsh's father who did the actual cooking around the house. (Zippa had her hands full keeping the accounts balanced and the shop clean.)
That night it was just the five of them: Karsh and his parents, and Glenn and his older brother. Zappa's cooking was far from delicate, but it was always hearty and flavourful. Tonight it was a large pot of boiled potatoes and seafood stew with a tomato base and fresh crab, straight out of the beautiful El Nido sea.
Zappa wasn't bothering with a soup tureen, and was hauling the stew pot directly up and onto the tablecloth, right in front of him at the head of the table. Zippa was sitting at his right side, with Karsh diagonally across from her, Dario across from him. Glenn took the opportunity to scramble up into the seat next to Karsh.
Glenn's shoulders were barely high enough to reach the table top when he sat straight in his seat, and his arms were angled awkwardly up instead of resting comfortably against the table. But he had made a big show of the fact that he was finally tall enough to eat at the big table without a pad under his seat to prop him up. He wasn't going to ask anybody for help now.
Karsh was chatting with his brother about possible entry into the Acacia Dragoons, completely unaware of the way Glenn watched entranced as his bulging arm muscles shifted as he easily reached over the table to stab at a potato with his fork. As soon as he had deposited it on his plate, he reached out again and again for another four potatoes which he piled together in front of him in a large heap.
Dario took pity on Glenn. Interrupting his conversation with Karsh, he stood to reach for Glenn's bowl and fill it with stew for him.
Glenn pouted. He had wanted to do it himself. He would have managed it. Somehow…
"Dario, you spoil that kid," Karsh said, shaking his head, and directing a lopsided grin at the two brothers.
"And you, Karsh? How many times have we all gone out of our way to spoil you?" Dario asked, as he passed one of the smaller potatoes over to Glenn.
Glenn looked up at Karsh, whose full attention had returned to Dario. Karsh could probably do everything all by himself. Glenn could already do a lot of things by himself, way more than half of the things. He could already swordfight, not as well as Karsh and Dario but, still, he could. And he got himself changed for bed every night. He could go to the vendor and buy lunch for himself. And he had even made friends all by himself: Joel and Felicia and Pete who were orphans and all played behind the docks. Glenn had even won at hide-n-seek. He had found everybody all by himself. Glenn was only half Karsh's size, so if Glenn could already do more than half the things on his own, when he grew to be as big and tall as Karsh it only made sense he would be able to do everything by himself. Just like Karsh, and just like Dario. And then…
"Spoil me?! I don't accept favours from nobody!" Karsh laughed.
Zippa snorted.
"Aye, don't ye?" Zappa interrupted, he reached across the table to jostle Karsh's arm. "No one ever told me."
"Certainly," Dario smiled, sitting back down, "you don't accept favours from nobody, so you must accept them from everybody."
"Hey, you know what I meant!" Karsh protested.
"Yes, and I'll just tell Miss Riddel to stop bringing you flowers, if you aren't accepting favours."
"Hey, don't do that! Jerks," Karsh pouted. "You believe me, right junior?" he asked, turning to Glenn.
"O- of course!" Glenn blurted out. "If it's Karsh, I'm sure you can do anything!"
Dario chuckled. "I'm not sure you quite understand the meaning of the word 'spoiled', Glenn."
Karsh guffawed triumphantly.
"Nah, the kid knows what he's talking about, Dario," he said proudly.
Glenn beamed up at Karsh.
"Here kid, have another potato," Karsh offered, giving Glenn one of the ones off of his own plate, before reaching across the table to stab a replacement with his fork. "If you eat all your vegetables, you'll grow up to be as great as I am, one day." He flexed his bicep as he pointed towards himself proudly. "Well, maybe not quite as great... I am pretty great."
"So, you've got a soft spot too, Karsh." Dario snickered. "My brother has you all figured out. Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Aw, shaddap," Karsh said. "So, anyhow, General Viper was here the other day, and he told me that…"
Karsh turned away and continued chattering on about whatever it was General Viper had said.
Glenn frowned as they got lost in their own conversation, in their own little world. He grasped his silverware and struggled to carve into the potato. The piece he ended up with was large and lopsided, and he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and ate it with gusto, following it up with a couple spoonfuls of stew.
One day he would grow up to be like Karsh and Dario and then- then they'd have to look his way all the time, the same way he looked up at them.
Glenn (9)
Glenn was nine when the city of Termina turned one hundred.
With the Centennial Festival approaching, the whole port had been a fuss with preparations an entire month in advance. The innkeep had fully cleaned and aired out the rooms, as well as hung banners throughout the entire street. Vendors had been congregating along the promenade, setting up stalls and arguing over the best locations. Brightly blooming flowers had been planted in every available patch of dirt. The Statue Cleaner had been working extra-hard, polishing General Viper's statue to a glistening shine. And the ports were teeming with boats, carrying shipments of food, toys, building supplies, and, on one memorable occasion, a menagerie of trained circus animals and a collection of multi-coloured balloons.
And, now, the day was finally here. Termina was founded a hundred years ago today. It was a beautiful spring day, and out in the streets there were carnival games and treats and an entire parade with singers and dancers and drums and elephants!
But inside the wooden shack behind the Smithy, there was only a dimly lit lantern, a bucket of cold water, and Glenn.
This was not entirely true. Dario and Riddel were also there, but they were traitors so far as Glenn was concerned, traitors who had conspired to make the most exciting day of the century as boring as possible. Dario had come down with the spring flu not a day before, and was now lying in bed looking cough-y and wheezy and pale, and was not taking Glenn to the Centennial Festival as planned. And Miss Riddel was sitting in a chair next to his bed, looking sad and concerned, feeding Dario spoonfuls of porridge or dabbing his head with a wet washcloth every so often, and not taking Glenn to the Centennial Festival as planned.
"You poor thing," Riddel cooed softly.
Dario was breathing heavily as he struggled to pull his arm out from under the huge pile of blankets heaped over him.
"Oh, don't! You'll catch cold!" Miss Riddel pleaded, trying to pull the blankets back over him.
But then Dario's hand broke free from the tangle of sheets and reached out towards hers.
Riddel turned the same shade of crimson as Dario's fever-ridden face as she let her hand meet his halfway. There was a pause, and then they smiled shyly to one another. Miss Riddel lifted his hand up and touched it to her forehead, and then it back down on the bed. There - she seemed to be trying her best to wrap his arm back in the blankets without letting go of his hand.
Glenn was trying his best not to make hurling sounds.
"Are you feeling better now?!" he cried. "Can we go to the festival now?!"
Dario gave out a raspy sigh. Miss Riddel turned towards him. She frowned, her face caught somewhere between stern and sympathetic.
"Glenn, I understand that you're upset," Miss Riddel said, "but your brother isn't feeling well. In a couple hours, I can try to make arrangements to have somebody else take you to the festival. But, in the meantime, please let your brother rest."
Glenn put on his best pouty face.
Miss Riddel sighed. "Don't you have any friends that are going to the festival?" she asked. "If any of them live just up the street from here, maybe you can ask their par-"
Riddel stopped talking immediately as Dario shifted in his bed. He closed his eyes and shook his head silently.
Glenn frowned immediately. He wasn't friends with any of the hoity-toity brats who lived on this street. Joel and Felicia and Pete were from the more… the more something parts of town. There was no way Dario was letting him run through the crowds of tourists drawn to the city for the festival to find his friends, half of whom didn't have any parents anyhow. And besides…
"No," Glenn said shortly. "All my friends are already at the festival. They've been there for hours already. This day only comes once every hundred years, and we're missing it!" Glenn cried, trying to get through to his brother and Miss Riddel.
"Glenn," Riddel said softly, "that is not true. There will be many celebrations and many festivals in our lifetime, and many after it. But this day will not come ever again, even in another hundred years, just as it never was a hundred years in the past. Each and every day comes only a single time, so we must spend every day doing what we feel we must. And today, your brother is sick, and needs our help."
Glenn had the sinking feeling that Riddel was right. Her philosophical platitudes always sounded like they were right at any rate. Even if they somehow managed to completely miss the point that there was a freaking parade going on outside.
Riddel gripped Dario's hand tightly and continued. "And even if this day came a thousand times, I like to think that for each one of them I would chose to care for your brother."
Glenn may have failed to stop the start of a hurling sound that time. He had come to the distinct conclusion that love was dumb, if it made otherwise tolerable people like his brother and Miss Riddel think a fever and a runny nose were somehow romantic.
Glenn turned around to storm out the door.
Dario made a valiant effort to sit up in bed. "Glenn," he rasped out, his voice hoarse and bitter, "don't go running off by yourself! It's not safe!"
"Don't! You'll strain yourself!" Riddel worriedly tried to placate Dario.
Glenn threw the door open, fully intending to bolt out to the streets… if he could work up the gumption to ignore Dario's warnings.
He didn't get the chance to, though, because he ran directly into Karsh, who was standing in the doorway with his hand hovering where the doorknob would have been.
Glenn stepped back a little bit, eyes widening, startled by the coincidence.
Karsh gave him no more than a cursory glance, before brushing past and addressing the other occupants of the room.
"Yo! What's taking you guys so long?" Karsh asked. "I think the celebrating's already started."
Dario sighed again. It was a wheezy sort of sigh.
"I thought you had already left," Riddel said.
"Gah-ha-ha!" Karsh shrugged. "Since Mom and Dad were out early running deliveries, nobody woke me up," Karsh crossed his hands behind his head. "Whatever. You guys ready?"
"Dario's not feeling well," Riddel said curtly, "as you well know."
"Still?" Karsh frowned.
Riddel brushed Dario's hair away from his burning forehead.
Nobody dignified Karsh's question with a response.
"It's only a cold," Karsh persisted. "This day only comes once every hundred years, so you can't miss it for a dumb reason like that."
"That's what I said," Glenn mumbled.
None of the others paid him any mind. Karsh's eyes remained firmly fixed on Miss Riddel.
"His fever's horrible. There's no way he can go out like this. What if it gets worse?"
Riddel looked at Dario with a tender worried expression, which Dario met with a weak smile. Dario's flu was not the only thing that was contagious, judging by the way the side of Riddel's lip curled upwards.
Karsh looked distinctly sickened by their display of lovey-doveyness, Glenn noticed.
Glenn smiled. Karsh was so cool. He must have come to the same conclusion as Glenn: that love was dumb and stupid. Miss Riddel and Dario had fallen to its insidious effects, but Karsh was immune, at least.
"Fine," Karsh said snippily, crossing his arms. "Dario has to stay because he's sick or whatever. But why aren't you coming to the festival, Lady Riddel?"
"I'm worried about my friend," Miss Riddel answered smoothly.
"It's just a cold. He'll be better in a few days if you leave him alone. Why ain't cha coming to the festival?"
Riddel sighed, and caught Glenn's eyes. "Glenn really wants to attend too. Why don't you take him with you instead?" she pleaded. "I'm sure he'd really appreciate it."
Glenn brightened. Karsh acted like he couldn't be bothered with looking after Glenn most of the time, but since Riddel suggested it… Maybe Karsh would be convinced.
He looked hopefully up at Karsh, who ignored him.
"C'mon, Riddel," Karsh cajoled. "They're giving out free food on the promenade. And there are games, and a race, and there's music, and probably they're gonna set out paper lanterns out in the harbour later. I heard there's even an elephant…"
"Karsh," Riddel said, attempting to smile, "I hope you have a good time at the festival, but please understand I wish to stay here and look after Dario."
Karsh ground his teeth together. "Fine," he bit out.
"Fine," Riddel agreed cheerfully.
Dario shifted under the blankets.
"Fine!" Karsh shouted. He grabbed Glenn roughly by the forearm and started to steer him out the door, still looking back at Riddel. "I'll go the Centennial Festival with junior, here. And- and Glenn and I are going to have so much fun without you, you'll- you'll regret it!"
Glenn beamed. He turned back to catch a glimpse of his brother's and Miss Riddel's faces, but he couldn't see anything before Karsh shoved him outside and slammed the door behind them.
This was so exciting. He was going to go to the festival! But he wasn't only going to the festival. He was going to the festival with a cool older friend! He really hoped he'd run into Joel and Pete now, just so he could rub it in their faces.
He reached into the pocket of his shorts and felt around for the folded triangle of paper he had stashed there earlier.
"Tch! What the hell is wrong with me?" Karsh muttered to himself, squatting down to the ground and burying his face in his hands. "You'll regret it? Could I have sounded any more like an ass?"
Glenn unfolded the paper – once, twice… eight times, until he could read the scribbled words against the creases.
Karsh was still crouched down, with his face hidden from view.
Glenn peered down at him curiously. How long should he wait before saying something? Karsh seemed... upset… about something, but there was a parade to get to, so he really should…
"What's this?"
Karsh reached out and swiped the piece of paper from Glenn's hands, saving Glenn from having to make a decision. He rubbed at his eyes and forehead with one hand, as he held the paper up with the other.
"I've been practicing my letters," Glenn said, grinning brightly. "It's a lot easier to read, right?"
Karsh snorted. He squinted at the paper and snorted again. "'Eat barbeque chicken. Buy caramel apples. Fried noodles…'" he read off from the paper. "The hell- It's like a restaurant advert," he grumbled.
"It's the list of things I want to do at the festival," Glenn replied. "There's other stuff further down," he said, pointing a couple lines lower at 'Scoop goldfish'.
Karsh snorted a third time, scanning the list further.
Then he sighed and stood. "Well, I guess I can't back out now. If we're going to do all these things today, we better get moving."
.
The parade had started at the edge of the jungle, then marched up through the arches of the cities, circled around the larger streets and down the promenade, before making its way back to the docks. Karsh and Glenn had to run to catch the head of the procession just as it was coming into the finish line, so they would be able to see all the performers – the dancers, the animals, the people in their funny masks, the musicians blowing horns and striking chimes, and the Dragoons marching enthusiastically behind.
"Feh!" Karsh grumbled, tearing into some of the barbeque chicken that they had bought from one of the stalls nearby. "All the dancers are tired already. And that Qilin looks like it's about to go to sleep right in the middle of the street," he said, pointing at one of the giraffes. "And I can hardly see anything from here."
They were sitting at the edge of one of Termina's white stone terraces, a few stories above, and several hundred metres away from the parade line. Getting any closer was impossible. The crowd was impenetrable.
"What was even the point of coming so late?" Karsh said, through a mouthful of chicken. "You need to get a space right next to the action, right when it starts, before everyone decides to start half-assing their performance."
A dancer in red scarves was leading this next part of the parade. The rest of her troupe utterly failed to synchronise themselves as they copied the twirls and summersaults of their leader.
Glenn still thought it was the best thing he had ever seen. He scooted closer to Karsh and watched the parade, starry-eyed, and reached for another drumstick with greasy hands.
.
"What do you mean you're out of money, kid?"
Glenn shrugged, and looked guiltily down at the ground. The vendor had told him he couldn't afford a mask to paint – not for three Gold.
"The hell did you spend all your money on?!"
Glenn lifted up his purchases.
A caramel apple covered in nuts, and a green and red striped spinning top.
"What?! I thought you'd been saving up your allowance money for this," Karsh snorted. "How much did you pay for these anyhow?"
Glenn had saved up his allowance money. (He might have had a few slip-ups in the last couple months, though. Viper Churros were hard to resist.) He shrugged again, before offering up the answer.
"This was about seventy Gold," Glenn said, lifting the spinning top up. "And this," he lifted up the apple, "I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention."
"Ugh! That piece of crap isn't worth more than twenty Gold," Karsh groaned. "The vendors hike up all the prices for the tourists, y'know. You have to haggle them down! And what do you mean you weren't paying attention?!"
Glenn pocketed the spinning top defensively and didn't respond. He should have borrowed money from Dario before they left.
"I swear, this kid has no common sense," Karsh mumbled to himself. "Whole day… giant pain in my ass…" He stood up straight and looked over Glenn commandingly. "Fine, I'll spot you just this once," he said, "but that's it then! You're gonna have to forget about the rest of the stuff on your list!"
Glenn nodded glumly as Karsh dragged him by the hand to the front of the booth. He yelled angrily at the vendor until he got a "local's discount", and chose a cat-shaped mask without asking Glenn which template he wanted.
"You're not getting one for yourself?" Glenn asked.
Karsh frowned. "No, kid. Painting masks is kiddy stuff."
Glenn sat down at the bench next to the other festival goers – parents with their children – and gangs of teenagers joking to one another – each absorbed in their own worlds. Glenn looked at the broad wooden brushes, their bristles caked with paint, and the bright colours littering the pallet.
It really was his own fault that he didn't save enough money.
Karsh was standing at the booth entrance, facing the crowd outside with his arms crossed.
And Glenn never really wanted the cat-shaped mask in the first place.
With that in mind he reached for one of the brushes, red, and then blue, and then swirled them together.
Twenty minutes later, he had completed his masterpiece, the colours slathered unevenly on the mask's clay surface, transgressing beyond the visible barriers that were carved into the surface to designate the eyes and nose and whiskers. And it was the most oddly coloured cat Glenn had ever seen, purple with orange whiskers and blue eyes. It did match Karsh's colouring, though, more or less.
"Finally done?" Karsh asked, as Glenn walked up and tugged on his shirt.
Glenn nodded and held the mask out to him.
"What?" Karsh said in a bored voice. "Whaddaya want me to say kid? Good job painting and all?"
Glenn shook his head. "It's for you, since you bought it and all," Glenn said.
"What?! Why'd you even bother?" Karsh snorted and reached out to accept the mask.
He looked at it critically, one eyebrow twitching up.
"Looks pretty silly," he said.
Glenn frowned.
Karsh didn't like it after all.
"You don't have to-" he started quietly, looking away.
"Ya sure you don't want it, kid?" Karsh interrupted, with a sudden tremor in his voice.
Glenn looked back up at Karsh, who was staring at the mask with a conflicted expression.
"It's for you…" Glenn repeated.
Karsh lifted up the mask and slapped it on the side of his face, pulling the drawstrings tight.
"Damn, it's still wet on this side," he said, some orange paint clinging to his hand as he pulled it away.
He then grabbed Glenn's shoulder with that very same hand and pushed him back up towards the vendor.
"Troublemaker," Karsh growled, "I can't be the only one with a mask."
"Masks! All shapes and sizes! Paint them whatever colours you like! Seventy-five Gold!" the vendor shouted, as they pushed their way up to the counter.
"Ripoff!" Karsh shouted back. "Local discount!" he reminded.
The vendor's face turned sour at Karsh's reappearance, but Karsh wasn't paying attention, as he shoved forty Gold on the counter.
"You want a cat-shaped one too, kid, or…?"
Glenn bit back a smile and pointed at a demon mask with pointed horns.
.
Karsh might have actually dragged them home after that, if Glenn hadn't seen the goldfish scooping at the next booth over.
Only Two Gold a Go Fish for Goldfish! the sign advertised.
"I still have enough for that!" Glenn said excitedly, dashing forward, his newly painted red demon mask tied to the back of his head.
"Yeah, yeah," Karsh replied, lagging behind after him.
There were twelve fish tanks side-by-side, arranged in groups of two to allow for competitions.
Glenn's two Gold was accepted eagerly in exchange for a paper goldfish scoop, and he managed to catch one goldfish before the scoop broke apart in the water.
"Not bad for a first try," the woman behind the fish tanks said, as she poured the fish into a plastic bag. "Care to go again?"
"Not bad?!" Karsh said indignantly, startling Glenn. "They totally beat you over there!"
He pointed at the group of patrons at the tank across from them. Glenn hadn't paid attention to them at all while scooping, but the vendor behind their tank was bagging up three whole goldfish for them.
"Go again!" Karsh commanded, whipping some coins out of his pocket. "And beat them this time!"
In the next five rounds, Glenn managed to get one, two, one, three, and two goldfish, and then none on his sixth round. The group of competitors on the fish tank next to theirs changed three separate times, and Glenn hadn't beaten any of them.
"Argh!" Karsh growled. "Budge over!"
Glenn scooted over, and Karsh bent down over the fish tank, staring at the goldfish, as if trying to intimidate them. He accepted his own paper scoop in exchange for another two Gold.
And then he immediately plunged it too deep into the water and broke it.
"Argh!" Karsh yelled again, and demanded another scoop.
"You have to skim it quickly just under the surface," Glenn advised. "Try flicking the edge."
But then Karsh had glared at him with a wild look in his eye and Glenn decided it was better to stay quiet.
Karsh went through no less than ten scoops without catching as single fish.
"Fine!" he shouted, throwing his latest destroyed scoop on the ground. "This one right here," he said, pointing at the girl who had just approached the tank next to theirs, "she's fresh meat."
The girl, who couldn't have been more than six-years-old, accepted a scoop from the vendor in blissful ignorance of the drama Karsh was stirring up.
"You can take her! Win for the team! Win for us all!"
He tossed two more Gold at the vendor and shoved the scoop into Glenn's hand with a squeeze.
Glenn took the scoop, wondering how this had become so serious, and watched the goldfish intently.
It… well… It wasn't really a close game, but Glenn managed to scoop up a second goldfish at the last moment before the paper broke apart. (The girl next to them hadn't managed to get any.)
"YES! YES! Gah-ha-ha-ha!" Karsh shouted hysterically, as Glenn laughed nervously and the vendor, smiling, packed all twelve of their goldfish in a glass jar.
Karsh was still laughing, puffing his chest out as they walked away, further along the promenade. And Glenn smiled down at the goldfish.
"That was actually kind of fun," Karsh said, sounding almost startled by his own words. "Hey, kid, you wanted to go get fried noodles too, right?"
.
"So which do you want?" Karsh asked. "The sky lantern? Or the boat lantern?"
Glenn looked anxiously at the growing lines for each stall, on opposite ends of the street. The paper lanterns were a big attraction for wrapping up the festival, right before the fireworks started.
"It's too noisy!" Karsh complained. "I can't hear you."
He bent down to Glenn's height.
"So which do you want?"
Glenn let his eyes dart between the stalls before leaning forward to speak in Karsh's ear.
"Both."
"Greedy!" Karsh laughed. But he was grinning heartily, so Glenn took it as a good sign.
It was dark by the time they pushed through both lines to get the lanterns.
They headed to the docks to release the lanterns.
Karsh held up his fist and focused his energy slowly, and pretty soon the fire gathered, lighting the candles inside the lanterns.
Karsh's innate element wasn't even red, and he could still summon fire so easily.
(But then Dario could use most of the elements too.)
(And Riddel could use all six without any trouble, although her skill with white elementals outshone all the others.)
"Here," Karsh said, handing the sky lantern to Glenn.
Glenn held it out as far as he could, off the pier and slowly released it into the sky.
Next to him, everybody else was also releasing lanterns, and his quickly got lost in the others that hovered gently upwards into the wind.
Karsh called his elementals again, green this time, like Glenn, and a wind blew up to carry the lanterns away.
They let the boat lantern out on the water next, and Karsh held onto the back of Glenn's shirt so he wouldn't fall into the water after the lantern.
"That everything on your list then?" Karsh asked, walking back into the city.
Glenn pulled out the crumpled list in his pocket.
They had seen the sculpture exhibit. They had found a musician who was willing to let Glenn try playing his banjo. They had met a group of acrobats, who had swung Glenn up into the air. They had run into Glenn's friends and played an impromptu game of Mercy before losing each other again. They had seen 'El Nido's Most Ferocious Monster' and 'El Nido's Largest Artichoke'. They had seen magic card tricks and participated in a foot race.
They had done almost everything, really.
"It's just the fireworks and… one other thing," Glenn said.
Karsh peered curiously at the list, at the one item that had conspicuously not been smudged out.
Ride an elephant.
"Yeah, they wouldn't let us near those parade animals. I guess they were all tired out from walkin' so long," Karsh said, crossing his arms behind his head and looking contemplatively up at the sky.
Glenn hummed in agreement and pocketed the list.
They settled by General Viper's statue to see the fireworks. Night blooming flowers had been planted in patches around the General's feet, and the view over the bay was impressive.
Unfortunately, everybody else also thought it was a great place to view the fireworks from.
"They're about to start," a voice hissed, as the crowd closed in around them.
"Look over there!"
"They're setting them off from the boats, right?!"
"Even though the lanterns are still floating around?"
"There!" Karsh said, pointing up somewhere that Glenn couldn't see.
The crowd had surrounded them completely, towering over Glenn, and blocking his view of the sky.
Glenn heard a bang, and a fizzle. Then another bang, and another, in perfect rhythm.
The crowd gasped at the show.
Karsh was gaping idly at the sky.
"I can't see anything," Glenn muttered, standing on his tiptoes.
It took a moment for Karsh to peel his eyes down to Earth.
"What was that?" he asked, bending down again.
"I can't see!" Glenn said, louder this time.
There were two more bangs in the distance.
Karsh seemed to be looking through him.
"C'mon, get up here, kid."
"Wha-"
That was all Glenn got to say before Karsh wrapped his right arm around Glenn's waist and threw him over his shoulder.
"What're you-?" Glenn sputtered out.
"Well, it's a shame to not get everything on your list, after we've gotten so far. And, well, compared to an elephant, I'm the next best thing." He paused for a moment. "Actually, scratch that. I'm way better than an elephant. Ya better be grateful."
Glenn grabbed onto the shirt on Karsh's back and swung sideways, trying to keep from falling.
Karsh seemed to be trying to push Glenn's legs onto his shoulders, on either side of his neck, but without actually being able to look back at what he was doing.
The result was a walking disaster zone. Glenn felt the back of his head collide with one of the someone's back, one of his feet kicked at someone's arm, and Karsh leaned forward, trying to rebalance himself, and ran into several other festival goers.
"Excuse me!" Glenn heard an indignant voice cry, as he tried to grasp onto Karsh's bicep.
"Yo!" Karsh replied. "You're excused."
"Karsh, I'm too old for this," Glenn protested, when Karsh finally managed to grab Glenn's legs and pull him up onto his shoulders properly. They were still swaying a little, but Glenn wrapped his legs around Karsh's neck and grabbed onto the top of his head, and there was time to let his vision readjust.
"Too old?" Karsh snorted. "Have you seen yourself, pipsqueak? You'll be just fine up there. And anyhow, you said you couldn't see anything from down below."
"'m not a pipsqueak," Glenn grumbled.
He wasn't. But he was still shorter than Felicia and Pete. And his brother had been taller when he was Glenn's age.
Stupid Dario.
"Well then, I'm just super strong, so I can still carry you no problem," Karsh said.
Then Karsh turned his head to try to look up at Glenn and flashed a brilliant smile.
"Just relax, junior. How's the view up there?"
Glenn felt his cheeks colour. He tightened his legs around Karsh and gripped the crown of his head harder before looking up at the night sky and down at the sea.
Over the heads of the crowd hundreds of lanterns still riddled the sky and the water, dancing bright white against the black night. And he could finally see the fireworks properly, bursting in bright red and orange bursts and falling down into smoke, just before the next one lit up the sky.
It was a warm night, already growing humid in preparation for the coming summer, but Glenn shifted closer to rest his torso on the back of Karsh's head.
"It's beautiful," he said, gazing up at the heavens.
Glenn (11)
Up at the front counter
"That boy," Zippa huffed, a half-smile dancing on her face. "He's a good boy – strong and kind. But ah know he's not the most proper. Ah wish he wouldn't go carryin' that 'illustration book' around everywhere he goes."
Back towards the forge
"Aye. Never bothers me, unless he wants somethin'. New axe! More paper! More ink! More charcoal! Never ends," Zappa scowled.
In the walkway in front of the canal
"Karsh's sketchbook?" Riddel blinked and smiled down at Glenn.
There was an unnaturally long pause.
"Well, there are some things we're better off not knowing." Riddel smiled even more brightly, "And everybody has a thing or two they want to keep private. Even Karsh."
In their room in the shack behind the Smithy
Dario sighed.
He clasped Glenn on the shoulder. "Listen, Glenn, Karsh is the best friend I could ask for, but… he's not the most mature, in many ways… I'd keep out of his sketchpad. You're not really old enough to be looking at that kind of thing anyway."
.
Glenn might have let the subject drop before that but with those few words Dario had effectively made it a challenge. Who was he to decide what Glenn was and wasn't old enough for, anyway? Glenn knew he was very worldly and mature for his age, no matter how much everyone else told him what a hot-tempered little troublemaker he was.
It was a simple matter really. Karsh always seemed to carry his sketchpad around with him, except when he went to the public bathes with Dario. So, obviously, the solution was to decline an invitation to go with them (Glenn hated the humid interior of the bathes anyhow), wait until they left, and then sneak into Karsh's room to sneak a peek at the sketchbook.
It was so ingenious, it went off without a hitch.
Glenn turned the handle on the back door into Karsh's room carefully, and let the soft pads of his feet carry him quietly to Karsh's bedside.
The shelf next to his bed didn't have many books on it. There were a couple of newspaper clippings in a folder, a stack of pens in a jar and a bottle of ink, and a whetstone for sharpening the blade of his axe.
And next to them, propped against the side of the shelf, next to a couple of battered old ones, was Karsh's most recent sketchbook.
Glenn gently pried it off the shelf, and sat cross-legged with his back against Karsh's bed. He spared a quick moment to run his fingers across the edge of the paper, before eagerly folding back the cover of the sketchbook.
Then, he turned the page. And turned the page again.
He frowned slightly, and wrinkled his brow in confusion. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, but…
The pages were filled with images of women. Some had short hair and other's long. Some of them lay together in the same image, and some were distinct. One had a robe pulled over one breast and a contrite expression. Most were unclothed, though, with their faces contorted in strange expressions, and many of them had their legs spread apart, or their rears tilted upwards facing the viewer.
They didn't seem ugly but, were not precisely beautiful either.
Glenn scratched at his eyebrow in confusion, as he flipped to another page. Was that what women looked like down there?
Glenn had, when he was younger, agreed to remove his pants and show his friend Felicia what boys had, if she would do the same for him. They had both thought it very interesting and funny, but Glenn didn't remember it leaving much of an impression. He looked more carefully at Karsh's drawings. He certainly didn't remember down there being quite so… big?
Textured? Engorged?
Glenn flipped through a couple more pages which, by in large, all contained similar images.
But then, a scrap of paper fell out of the sketchbook with the next turn of the page, and Glenn had to turn his attention away to pick it up.
It was something that must have been ripped out of a magazine, or a book. A small drawing of General Viper.
Or, at least, Glenn thought it was General Viper. The man looked much younger than the General that Glenn was familiar with. He had a full head of coarse dark hair, and a young and handsome face, turned halfway to the front and directing a confident and stately gaze to an unknown recipient. Glenn would have not recognized the youth for General Viper, had he not been wearing his customary black coat and uniform. At his belt was his famous sabre, the Viper's Venom, and in his hand he held a banner, streaming behind him with the Acacia Dragoons coat of arms.
Glenn then turned to the sketchbook. Karsh had painstakingly recreated the image. No, not recreated. He had improved it, so far as Glenn was concerned. The amount of texture and detail that had been drawn into the General's outfit was astounding. Each fold of the cloth was rendered precisely. Each button on his coat was given a distinct pattern. The banner waving behind him seemed larger and more life-like, with crest shining brightly and each thread woven into the tapestry crisp and distinct. And the General's expression, it seemed more true, more confident, and more handsome than it had been in the original.
Glenn felt his face heat up. For the first time since he opened the sketchbook, he considered that he might be intruding, sticking his nose into a very personal and private thing.
And yet he couldn't look away, or bring himself to look even further in the sketchbook.
What if there were drawings of Riddel further in the pages? What if there were drawings of Dario, or of himself? Would they be rendered with the same loving attention to detail as the image of General Viper? Did Glenn want them to be? Was it even his place to know?
He settled for continuing to admire the picture of the young General, brought his fingers to the edge of the page and felt the scratches of the pen and the charcoal shading and tried to get lost in that feeling.
Then the door to the bedroom slammed open.
Glenn startled.
Was it Zappa or Zippa? Or had Glenn really sat there so long staring at Karsh's drawings? Maybe Karsh had forgotten his towel?
He quickly flipped back to the pictures of the naked women. Somehow that felt less embarrassing.
Glenn heard the footsteps rap in quick succession against the floor and then stop.
Glenn looked up.
Karsh was standing over him, throwing a shadow over Glenn, who was sitting on the floor, cornered between the bed and the shelf and – oh Gods, Karsh was going to be upset. Glenn hurried to try and apologise.
But something stopped him.
Karsh did not look bothered or upset at all. In fact, he was grinning, wider than Glenn had ever seen him grin before.
"So, looking through my sketchbook, huh?" Karsh leered.
"Er, yes," Glenn said, in as small a voice as he could, and blushing furiously. "I'm sorry, I'll just… put this back…"
Glenn hurried to stand, to close the book and replace it on the shelf.
"What's the rush?" Karsh said, interrupting Glenn with a hand on his shoulder. He grabbed the sketchbook out of Glenn's hand and shrugged lazily. "After you went through all the trouble of sneaking into my room while I was gone… you may as well enjoy it."
Karsh dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and pulled Glenn (who was really too big for this kind of thing) up to sit on his left knee.
Glenn was suddenly very aware of the way Karsh's leg felt, pressed up under him. He tried to squeeze his own legs shut, to ease the… awareness.
"Lil' Glenn's finally discovering the wonders of the world," Karsh sighed contentedly. He wrapped his arms around in a circle, trapping Glenn between him and the sketchbook, and flipped it open so they could both see the pictures inside.
Karsh's left leg jiggled slightly, from the motion, or maybe out of restlessness. Glenn shifted his weight where he was sitting slightly. It felt… something. Glenn wished Karsh would stop it.
"So, which one's your type?" Karsh asked easily, flipping through the sketches. "I'm partial to long hair, personally, but I really like how this one came out," he said, pointing to a girl with short hair, who was reclining on some surface and spreading her privates open with both hands.
Glenn's eyes glossed over the picture, and then scanned the room, eyes darting between north and south exits on either side of the room. He felt himself push down slightly against Karsh's knee.
"Ah, but," Karsh said grinning as he flipped through a couple more pages, "this one with the big chest is good too. Top-heavy. And if they're flexible enough, you can grab ahold while you're doing other things, yanno?"
And then it wasn't only Karsh's leg, Glenn realised. Karsh's left arm was also pressed nonchalantly against his, encircling him and jostling slightly as Karsh turned the pages in the book. And a couple of strands of Karsh's hair had brushed against his neck a moment ago while he sat down. And it was Karsh's room, which would have understandably smelled of Karsh, even if Karsh hadn't been sitting there right behind him.
"Or maybe this girl's the best one," Karsh said, indicating the one on the next page. "She's modelled after a real person, actually. Although, I guess you're too young to meet her, for another five years at least."
Glenn gulped and felt a surge of thick wetness pool at his groin. The feeling of relief was warm and euphoric.
Followed by a sickening plunge into self-consciousness.
That had happened before. It had! It wasn't that strange, Glenn thought.
But somehow it was different. Before, it had seemed like happenstance, coincidence. But this…
This, by comparison, seemed very consequential. It hadn't just happened. It happened while Karsh had been here, sitting with him.
Because Karsh had been sitting here with him.
And to Glenn's utter mortification, Karsh seemed to notice. He paused in perusing the sketchbook, and turned to Glenn, who watched as Karsh looked him up and down, eyes eventually resting at his crotch.
Karsh closed the sketchbook and dropped his hands. He turned away, biting his lip, and started trembling with unvoiced laughter.
It was clearly not possible to die of embarrassment, because if it had been, Glenn would have died that very moment.
Karsh broke into snickers when he finally spoke.
"What a kid!" he said, tears of laughter beading in the corners of his eyes as he turned to Glenn. "Here ya go!" he said, pushing Glenn off his leg. "Go clean yourself up! And don't worry, okay? It happens to the best of us when we're young."
Glenn steadied himself on his feet, feeling uncomfortable and miserable, and started heading to the door at Karsh's request.
"And junior," Karsh stopped him before Glenn could open the door.
Glenn stopped without turning around, so as not to expose the tears that were springing to his eyes involuntarily.
"You can borrow my sketchbooks anytime you like," Karsh said mirthfully.
Glenn nodded slowly, still facing the door, and fled.
It was only a short distance across the yard from Karsh's room to the shack he shared with his brother, but Glenn was still relieved when he didn't run into anybody on the way back.
Dario still wasn't back from the baths, or from seeing Miss Riddel, or from doing whatever else Dario got up to in his spare time. That was also a relief. Glenn pulled off his shoes and shorts and underwear and threw them in a heap in his closet. He quickly wiped the tears away from his eyes with his arm, before he climbed up on his bed and crawled under his blankets, pulling them up over his head.
He pressed his face against his pillow and willed his cheeks to stop burning. His entire face felt like it was about to catch on fire.
He lay there for at least an hour, drifting into and out of sleep, trying to forget what happened, or remembering and feeling ashamed for no good reason.
That's why he knew what to say by the time Dario returned.
"I'm back," Dario called, as he opened the door to the shack.
The hairs on the back of Glenn's neck stood on end.
Dario was going through the motions, Glenn could tell. From safely under his mound of blankets, Glenn could hear all the sounds Dario usually made when he got home: footsteps, the springs on the bed contracting as Dario set something on it, a sigh, Dario struggling to remove his shoes, the click-clack as Dario finds the water pitcher and lifts it off the table and then puts it back down.
It seemed to take an eternity. By the time Dario sat down, next to the lump that was Glenn buried under a pile of blankets in his bed, Glenn had drifted off again.
"Everything okay, Glenn?"
Glenn's eyes snapped open. There was a pause, before the frenzy renewed itself in Glenn's mind.
"Glenn?"
"H-how do you feel?" Glenn asked. "About Miss Riddel?"
"Miss Riddel?" Dario repeated.
He paused for a moment, and Glenn could almost hear him weighing the words. It's no secret that Dario and Riddel like each other, enough so that all the adults whisper behind their backs about matches and destiny and heaven. But even though Glenn knew what it meant, he didn't know what it meant. And Dario was careful. Dario never shared his feelings about Riddel. He was careful.
"I suppose… I like her very much," Dario decided. "I want for Miss Riddel to be safe and happy and content, for all times. And I'll watch over her for as long as I am able – to make sure she is."
Dario looked off to the side, to somewhere Glenn could not see, and frowned.
Then the moment was gone, and Dario looked back to Glenn.
"Does that answer your question?"
It didn't. Not really.
"I mean… I know you like her. But do you… feel… anything when you're with her? Does it feel different than with other people? Different than with other people like…"
…like Karsh, Glenn thought, although he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"Feel?" Dario asked.
"Yeah," Glenn confirmed. "Like you're not really doing anything. But then, suddenly your body starts feeling stuff."
Glenn peeked his head out from under the sheets, and turned to look at Dario, face burning and willing him to understand.
There was a pause.
"Oh, jeez, where is Radius when I need him?" Dario turned away and muttered to himself.
Glenn withdrew his head back under the pillows.
"No, wait," Dario said. He heaved a sigh and then, "A- aye, I know what you're talking about," he replied tentatively.
Glenn did not respond.
"Glenn, I- I want you to know that whatever you're feeling… it is completely normal for boys your age. And whatever… reactions you are having… those are also completely normal," Dario said.
Glenn didn't respond.
"Are you okay, Glenn?" Dario asked.
Glenn nodded from underneath the blankets.
Dario took this as a good sign and patted his brother on the back through he blankets.
"Mm, thanks," Glenn said.
"I'll let you rest for now," Dario said, "but I'll have Radius talk to you about it the next time he drops by. Whatever you're feeling is normal, but you must always remember that no matter what you're feeling, you must always treat a lady with dignity and respect."
Glenn hummed in agreement, wondering exactly how ladies factored into it, or Karsh, and what about that picture of the General, and Dario had only mentioned the first, and what exactly did Dario feel for Riddel, and why was Glenn so hesitant to ask about any of it?
Dario stood. "And you can always talk to me and the others if you need to," he said, although he sounded unsure. "Even when Karsh and I leave for Viper Manor, you can always send me letters, and I'll come visit on the weekends as often as I can."
Glenn nodded again, but Dario kept talking without noticing.
"Don't worry, we'll work everything out," he said.
AN: In case you missed it, because it probably won't come up again, Karsh's first boy-crush was on General Viper. How embarrassin', having your first boy-crush be the father of your girl-crush! Karsh himself probably missed this detail about himself though, so it's only me feeling second hand embarrassment for him.
