Chapter Text
“I think I’m ready to tell you,” Fabian said.
He glanced at Riz, who had been curled up on the bed next to him and now looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Riz said carefully, scooting himself next to Fabian and resting his head on his shoulder. “I can wait. Like I said, I—”
“—trust me, yeah, I know. But I want to tell you, and I think I’m ready now.”
Riz smiled. “Okay.”
Fabian let out a long breath. “Okay, well… it’s kind of a long story. Like a very, very long story.”
Riz stared at him expectantly.
“I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” Fabian leaned back and settled in. “My name’s Fabian Seacaster.”
Riz snorted and thwacked Fabian with his tail. “Be serious.”
“I am serious! My name’s Fabian Seacaster, and I’m nineteen years old. And I guess this story begins… one ordinary day, long, long ago.”
- - -
“Fabian, you can’t skip school again, you just can’t,” Mazey Phaedra pleaded. The twelve-year-old minotaur resisted as her eleven-year-old half-elf friend pulled at her. “If the teacher finds out, he’s going to expel you! He’s going to be so disappointed in me if you don’t come with me right now!”
Fabian ignored her protests and pulled harder. “Come on, Mazey, I just want to see the toy shop! They have the new model ships today!”
“Who cares about model ships?” Mazey tugged with remarkable strength for her age back at Fabian, causing him to stumble for just a moment. “I’m trying to save our butts!”
“We’re not learning anything interesting at school, anyway! Come on, my mom gave me some money this morning.”
“Lunch money!” she retorted. “And why do you have to drag me along, then?”
Fabian huffed and let go of her arm. “Fine! You don’t have to come!”
Mazey frowned as she rubbed at her wrist. “Please don’t ditch school.”
“I’m ditching! You can’t stop me!” He walked backwards down the sidewalk.
“Fabian!”
“Bye!” He waved a bundle of gold pieces in the air and took off running toward the toy shop down the street.
- - -
Just a few hours later, Mazey was accompanying him back to his house.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” she muttered.
“Hey, I didn’t know they would be so expensive! Or that the stupid old dude at the counter would think to call the school!”
“You’re eleven, Fabian, of course he thought it was weird that you were out of school!”
Fabian pouted. “Whatever. Come on, I’ll bet my papa’s got some really sick stuff we could sell for more gold!”
“Fabian, no!”
She chased him all the way back to Seacaster Manor. As usual, the house was essentially empty as Fabian bounded up the stairs in excitement. Mazey trailed behind with uncertainty as he snuck his way into his father’s quarters.
“This is a stupid idea, Fabian,” she hissed under her breath.
“So don’t follow me!” he whispered back.
She crossed her arms. “I’m staying out here.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He carefully made his way into the room, immediately scurrying around and opening doors, drawers, cabinets, closets, searching for secret compartments where there could possibly be some treasures. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at finding secret compartments. He huffed when he came up with nothing of value, throwing aside a cheap-looking ring and about to give up when he heard it thunk against the blankets behind him.
He turned around. That was weird. Blankets don’t thunk. Sure enough, upon investigating, he found a strange-looking lump underneath the sheets. Carefully, he pulled aside the blanket.
On the mattress lay an ornate-looking arquebus, glowing and pulsing with arcane energy. Fabian’s eyes widened. Now this was worth something. He slowly reached out to pick it up.
The moment he touched it, he promptly blacked out.
- - -
Fabian had no idea what just happened. One moment, he was carefully reaching towards the mysterious gun, and the next, he had been pulled out of consciousness and into a strange bluish void. He looked around.
“Hello?” he called out cautiously. “Anyone there?”
Silence. Then, from behind him:
“Can you… hear me?”
He whirled around.
A handsome goblin man with a thin mustache faced him, wearing a sharp suit and clutching an arquebus identical to the one Fabian just touched. His brows were furrowed and his face suspicious as his hand tightened around the gun which was, thankfully, not pointed at Fabian.
Fabian yelped and stumbled backwards. “Um. Hi.”
The man’s hand relaxed just a bit. “Oh. You’re just a kid.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Fabian looked around. “Who are you? What is this place?”
“I don’t know where we are,” the man said slowly, “but you shouldn’t be here. Unless… you’re also… dead.”
Fabian flinched. “Um, what? No. I’m not dead. I don’t think.” Then his eyes widened with panic. “Wait, am I dead? Did I just die? Did touching that stupid gun kill me?!”
“Okay, wait, no, no, I think you’d remember if you were… I don’t think you’re dead,” the man quickly assured Fabian. “For one, you don’t have… well, these.”
He gestured behind him, and Fabian did a double take. He hadn’t noticed the man’s feathered angel wings and glowing halo. Now that he took a closer look, he definitely had sort of a translucent ethereal glow.
“Wait, so… are you dead?” Fabian asked slowly.
The man smiled softly. “Yeah. I am.” He held out a hand. “Pok. Nice to meet you.”
Fabian slowly reached out to shake it, but his hand went right through Pok’s. The man just shook his head and sighed like he expected that. “Uh, I’m Fabian. Fabian Aramais Seacaster.”
Pok nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
“Okay, wait, so… you’re dead? Like, full-dead?”
“Full-dead,” Pok confirmed, a little wistfully.
“Then… why am I here?”
Pok hesitated. “Not sure. You mentioned touching a gun?” He lifted his arquebus. “Did it look something like this?”
Fabian nodded quickly. “Yeah. Is it— was it yours?”
“Yes, it was. Fascinating.” Pok seemed to be thinking a mile a minute, his words speeding up. “Someone must have recovered it. I think my soul was tied to it.”
“Tied to it?”
“Yes, but… if you touched it… and I’m seeing you now, I think that means something. Some kind of possession.”
Fabian’s eyes widened. “You’re possessing me?”
“No, no, nothing like that, just… I put a complicated spell on my arquebus a while back. It was supposed to stop my enemies from taking it and to send a message to my loved ones after I died. But… I don’t think it worked properly since—and don’t take this in offense—you’re clearly not either of those.”
“Okay…?”
“Interesting.” Pok stepped forward. “Okay. You need to wake up.”
“Uh—what?”
“Wake up,” Pok repeated, “and you’ll be able to see me, got it?”
“I—okay. How?”
He smiled. “Like this.”
He reached forward, hovering his incorporeal hands over Fabian’s shoulders, and wrapped his wings around him. Everything became blindingly white.
- - -
Fabian gasped back to consciousness in his own bed, Mazey and his father standing next to him.
“He’s awake!” Mazey grabbed Fabian’s shoulders and shook him. “Fabian, I told you that was a stupid idea.”
“What? What happened?” Fabian looked around, then froze when he caught sight of the figure standing at the foot of his bed. The goblin-angel-man from his dream stood there, grinning.
Fabian yelped out loud and scrambled back in bed.
“Hey,” the angel said in greeting.
“Fabian, what are you looking at?” asked Mazey in confusion.
“I-I— um—” Fabian looked from Mazey to his father to Pok in conclusion. “What— you— you can’t see him?” He gestured wildly at the foot of his bed. Mazey glanced over and turned back to Fabian, clearly bewildered.
Bill Seacaster just laughed heartily. “Now, what are you on about, me boy?”
“I— but— he’s—”
“You’re the only one who can see me,” Pok said gently.
“Who are you?” Fabian demanded.
“Who are you talking to?” Mazey asked.
Bill tsked while he shook his head, waving his finger at Fabian. “If this is some way of skipping out on school again, my darling boy, I’m afraid—”
“I’m not lying!” Fabian flopped back onto the bed. Pok sighed and floated next to him.
“They’re not going to believe you.”
“Come on, boy. Up on your feet, now.” Bill hoisted Fabian up. “This fine young lassie found you collapsed on the floor in my quarters! Now whatever were you doing there?”
Fabian glanced apprehensively at Pok before turning back to Bill. “Nothing, papa.”
Bill narrowed his eye at Fabian for a moment before shrugging. “Very well. You may go now… what was your name again?”
“Mazey,” Mazey said quietly. “Captain Seacaster, is Fabian okay?”
“I’m fine,” Fabian snapped, shooting Pok a glare. The goblin simply shrugged at him with a light smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You hear that, lass? The boy is fine!” Bill laughed and clapped Fabian on the back.
- - -
Fabian finally got time alone with Pok after a light-hearted berating from his father and an airy acknowledgement from his mother. “Okay, so… again, who exactly are you?”
Pok smiled, leaning back as if he were sitting in a chair rather than floating in midair. “Like I said, I’m Pok.” He twirled a finger towards Fabian’s chest. “I live in your heart now.”
“And why are you a ghost no one but me can see that has to stick with me at all times?”
Pok shrugged. “The spell on my arquebus went wrong, I suppose. And I’m not a ghost.”
“Sure. You’re a dead, spectral figure, but not a ghost.”
Pok scoffed.
“So… why’d you have a curse on your gun?” asked Fabian.
Pok shrugged. “Reasons. Professional adventuring—anything can happen. I wanted to know my family would be okay after my death, but… I don’t actually know how well that worked out.”
Fabian blinked. “Professional what now?”
“An adventurer? Someone who, on a basic level, goes on adventures: solving mysteries, fighting battles, forming an adventuring party. You know?”
“Kind of.” Fabian knew of the term from his father’s adventures. But… “Professional? So like, you get money out of it?”
Pok raised a dark eyebrow at Fabian. “I suppose so.”
Fabian’s eyes brightened. “Can I become a professional adventurer?”
With a smirk, Pok said, “It’s not for everyone, you know. You have to be skilled, intelligent, agile, tough.”
“I’m all of those things!” Fabian insisted. “I’m Fabian Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster—of course I am!”
Pok laughed. “Kid, you’ve got spirit. Fabian, you said?”
Fabian grinned. “Yup.”
“I like you, Fabian. How about this—I’ll show you the way to a battle ring, and you can give it a go. All great adventurers start out with a few battles here and there.”
“Wait, really?” Fabian sat up straight. “You’d do that?”
“Hey, I’m stuck with you. What else am I going to do?”
Fabian practically bounced in his seat. “Awesome! Show the way!”
- - -
On the way to the ring, Pok explained the details of ranked battling. “It’s a staple of the path of professional adventuring. Those who want to become professionals take part in battles throughout their education. A set of grading battles—tournaments, competitions, bracket systems—take part each year, and adventurers get ranked. There’s all sorts of battling styles—one-on-one, triads, and full-party battles.”
The talk was fascinating, but the details were soon forgotten as Fabian stepped into the battle ring—the room was overwhelming. Rental weapons lined an entire wall, a huge fighting ring was set up in the center, and training gyms were to the right. Crammed in a corner was a self-proclaimed check-in desk.
“I used to take my son here to watch the fights,” Pok said wistfully. “It’d been a while since we’d gone to one when I died though. I wonder how long it’s been.”
Fabian looked at Pok sympathetically. “You don’t know when you died?”
Pok shook his head, frowning. “No. It can’t have been too long ago—Elmville doesn’t look too different. But… I didn’t know many people here, and time is difficult when you’re… y’know. Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Pok shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with my death. I just miss the world I came from.” Then he gestured to the desk. “Let’s check in.”
Fabian nodded and approached the desk, where a young woman sat, scrolling on her crystal. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
The woman looked up and put down her crystal. “Hi, kid. What’s up?”
Fabian glanced as inconspicuously as possible at Pok, who said, “Ask if you can watch a fight, or maybe get paired with another kid. There might not be many other young folk here, but you can certainly try.”
Fabian nodded slightly. “Um, hi, I was wondering if it was okay for me to watch a fight? Or get a partner? Maybe?”
The woman clicked a pen and held up a sign-in sheet. “No problem. Fill out your name and score for me, will you?”
“Um…” He turned to Pok again.
“What’s up?” asked the woman.
“My… score?”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have a score?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Fabian confessed.
“It’s a kind of ranking system for when you’ve been in some fights,” Pok quickly explains. “You don’t have one yet since you haven’t competed anywhere before.”
The woman at the desk seemed to have caught on, because she said, “New to the battle scene?”
Fabian nodded sheepishly.
“That’s alright. Why don’t we get you set up to watch?”
“Okay.” He didn’t really know what else to say. He glanced around the room while the woman turned to her laptop and began clicking something on her keyboard. Then, he noticed, a few feet away, a small, unmistakably child-like figure wearing a fencing mask and clutching a rapier.
“Hey,” he said, “that’s a kid, right? Can I fight him?”
The woman looked up and glanced in the direction he was pointing. “Oh,” she said. “Um… that’s…”
“Please? I really want to try fighting,” he said.
The woman chewed on her lip for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, kid. Suit yourself. Go rent out a weapon.” She leaned back in her seat, grabbing her crystal again. “It’s your funeral.”
Fabian cheered and turned to Pok as he ran towards the rental wall. “Did I do good?”
Pok laughed. “Let’s get you suited to a weapon first. You ever do any kind of fighting training before?”
Fabian scanned the wall. “I do fencing with an instructor.”
“Perfect. Think you can handle a rapier?”
“Seriously?” Fabian grinned in excitement. “Awesome!”
With Pok and the rental worker’s help, Fabian got suited up with a rapier that fit him well. “Rental isn’t great, but maybe in the future you can invest in getting yourself some weapons if you end up really liking battling.”
Fabian tested the weight of the blade. “Huh.”
“Go ahead and see if you can challenge that kid,” Pok instructed him, pointing Fabian in the direction of the still-masked figure.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Fabian waved a dismissive hand in Pok’s direction as he ran towards the other kid. Pok scoffed and shook his head as he followed along.
Fabian skidded to a stop when he came up next to the kid. “Hey! I’m Fabian, want to spar?”
The masked kid turned towards him. “Sorry?” he asked, voice muffled.
“Want to spar?” he repeated, holding up his rapier excitedly.
The other kid was silent for a moment, then turned away. “I’m okay.”
Fabian dropped his arm in disappointment. “Please?” He glanced up at Pok. “Help me out a bit here?” he whispered.
Pok gave the kid a once over. “I need to get a read on their skill level first. You think you’re up for the fight? I’ll give you pointers while you go. As long as you listen to what I say, you should be able to get this done pretty quick and easy.
Fabian brightened. “Really? That’s cool.” He turned back to the kid. “Please? It would be really fun?”
“I’m not really here to fight,” the kid said. “Sorry.”
Fabian frowned. “Then why are you here with weapons?” He gestured to the kid’s rapier.
The kid let out a long sigh, then turned back to Fabian. “Okay. Fine. Let’s fight. Are you any good?”
Fabian glanced at Pok. “I’m… I guess we’ll see.”
They sighed again, shrugged, then stood up. “Fine. Let’s do this.” They twirled their blade as they stood up, nodded awkwardly at Fabian, and gestured towards an open arena. As they trailed ahead, Fabian hung back to talk to Pok.
“So… what exactly? You’re going to help me?”
“I mean, I could also just possess you. Could be fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done a spar. But for this one, I think you should try it out yourself.”
Fabian squeezed his rapier nervously. “You sure?”
“I’ll guide you every step of the way,” Pok assured him firmly.
Fabian nodded. They’d reached the arena. Fabian carefully stepped in.
“Classic one v one rules?” the masked kid asked. Now that they were standing up, Fabian noticed a thin green tail swishing behind them restlessly.
“Say yes,” Pok said.
“U-uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Okay.” They circled the arena before finding a suitable spot. Pok guided Fabian to a spot opposite them.
“No official timer, so we start on three. You want to count down or should I?”
“Let them do it.”
“You can— you can count,” Fabian stammered. The kid nodded and took a low stance, bouncing slightly. Fabian awkwardly stood with his sword over his shoulder.
Pok flew over to Fabian’s arm and frowned. “You look like a street brawler, kid, loosen up, or you’ll get knocked on your ass.”
“Three…”
“What? What am I supposed to do?”
“Two…”
“Feet apart. Bring your arms down, this isn’t gashbat. Relax. Sword higher. Good.”
Fabian hurriedly rushed to make the corrections.
“One.”
“Parry!” Pok said immediately, and Fabian did just that just in time to deflect his opponent’s first attack. He breathed out a sigh of relief but was quickly humbled when the masked kid recovered quickly, darted to the side, and landed a tap to his ribcage. Fabian yelped as he ducked aside.
“Pay attention,” Pok said in his ear.
“I’m trying,” Fabian muttered, dodging another hit. “They’re fast.”
“Yes, they’re quite skilled, actually. Parry.”
The fight played out slowly at first, Fabian clumsily blocking and countering under Pok’s instruction. However, the kid soon seemed to get a grasp of Fabian’s style and began speeding things up.
“You got it,” Pok said encouragingly, as Fabian successfully avoided falling for a feint and landed a tap to the kid’s shoulder. “I’m going to control your body just a little bit, okay?”
Before Fabian could question what just a little bit even meant, he could feel small corrections being made to his stance. Immediately, he felt himself moving far more fluidly. Though he was mostly still in control, he suddenly wasn’t stumbling over his own feet anymore.
The kid was fast. They darted around and feinted so quickly that Fabian found it difficult to keep up, but under Pok’s guidance, not a single attack hit. He felt a thrill of excitement go through as he parried yet another strike.
“They’re going to lunge left next,” Pok whispered. “Ready yourself.”
Pok’s prediction struck true—Fabian dodged to the right just in time to use his opponent’s momentum against them.
“It’s open. Get the chest.”
Fabian obediently tapped the kid’s chest—a fatal area, had he actually stabbed—and they froze.
“Excellent,” Pok said proudly. “Nice work.”
“Did I win?” he asked under his breath.
“Yes. In preteen rules, all you have to do is land a fatal tap.” Pok grinned. “The older divisions get far bloodier.
Fabian didn’t really know what that meant or if he wanted to know. He withdrew his sword and held out a hand to shake the other kid’s. He at least knew etiquette, if not fighting techniques.
The kid seemed surprised as they slowly took his hand. “You’re good.” Their voice was awed, but seemed tinged with confusion.
Fabian smirked smugly. “Guess it’s just natural talent.”
They tilted their head curiously. “What’s your score?”
Fabian shrugged. “Dunno.”
“You don’t know your score?”
“I’ve never really fought before,” he confessed.
The kid’s hand went slack in his. “You’ve never fought before?”
Fabian withdrew his hand. “Um… yeah?”
They were silent for a long moment. Then, much, much colder: “Again.”
Fabian tensed. “What?”
“I want to go again. There’s no way.”
A small crowd had gathered around the arena to watch now. Fabian looked around nervously. “Um…”
“I challenge you to a rematch.”
Fabian was kind of glad the kid wore a mask, because based on their tone, he could just feel the eyes shooting daggers at him. “Some help here?” he asked Pok quietly.
Pok was staring at the kid contemplatively. “Their fighting style seems familiar,” Pok mused. “Feints, trickery, light on their feet.” He turned to Fabian. “Do you want to go again? If not, I could also just full-control your body. It would be a pretty nice learning experience for you, too.”
“Could you really?”
The angel shrugged. “I think I could. I’d like to try fighting this kid. Something about them… it would be nice to feel alive again.
Fabian glanced over at his opponent, still waiting expectantly.
“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll fight you.” He tried to ignore the whispers that erupted from the quickly growing crowd around the arena.
The kid nodded, then readied his stance.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Pok said.
“I’m good,” Fabian whispered.
The following sensation was possibly the weirdest Fabian had ever felt in his life. It was difficult for him to put into words, but it was as if something was pulling at the pit of its stomach, pulling it up and out, and then very forcibly pulling it back in like an elastic band that snapped. He doubled over for a moment, then when he straightened, he was no longer in his own body.
The kid was counting down. “Three… two… one.”
And just like that, Fabian felt his body jerk out from beneath him, and suddenly, all he could do was watch.
His opponent charged in immediately, rapier flashing and catching the light, but Pok was faster—Fabian felt himself effortlessly sidestep. The kid tried again, a feint and then a slash, but Fabian parried, then countered with a blow to the ribs. They stumbled back.
The crowd was murmuring now, but the fight wasn’t anywhere near over.
The kid, still fast as hell, threw everything at Fabian—feints, dodges, thrusts—too quickly for Fabian to keep up. Clearly, though, Pok had no trouble. He blocked each attempt with almost no effort. Then, he switched to the offensive, and that’s when things truly heated up.
Each blow was precise, almost deadly, just enough to overwhelm but not far enough to hit. The kid grunted as they began to lose their touch, stumbling back with each dodge and parry they tossed out.
Fabian felt himself slam the rapier against his opponent’s arm, knocking the blade clean out of their hands, knocking the kid to the ground. They reached out, desperately trying to grab the hilt, but Fabian’s boot came down on their wrist.
He tapped the lethal spot, and the small child’s body went limp.