“Death is preferable to Peace, as Death does not conceal. But Peace, it lulls one into believing it is real”

  Harso Aboli, Dhramian Grand Datu, 770 TYA

  Sparks flew freely into the sea-sprayed air as the ship rocked violently. Even as the skies were clear, and the sun visible, colossal waves smothered the bow of the ship.

  Inside the ship, orange and red hues of the forge cascaded across the room, and on the soot-stained boy as his hammer bludgeoned the bde. Each strike had to be a deliberate, even, and precise strike. The edge was coming along nicely by Mahal’s standards. But he couldn’t help but lift it up slightly, before silently chastising himself as continued striking the sword.

  Over the course of an hour, Mahal watched the glow of the bde grow softer, forcing him to again his strategy as he held his hammer at a slight angle. Blisters appeared more when he did it this way, but so to do a better result. Most of the time. Or maybe he should’ve held at a steeper angle.

  “Mahal, the ship is nearly docked!” A voice in the background shouted. Mahal took the slightest gnce up, only to nearly jump as the light of the moon greeted him in the same warmth that the Sun had. He looked at the sword, after grinding, quenching, tempering, and then grinding it again, the bde itself still gave Mahal pause.

  It still wasn’t what he wanted. The waves of the sword were well and fine enough, but Mahal’s eyes kept catching on the inconsistent sharpened spots of the entire piece. His eyes wandered, and he gasped as near the bottom of bde, the hilt was off center, and-

  Every possible fw Mahal had been trying to avoid seemed to grow from his work. The bde looked passable, and might even be considered nice by some, but throwing it to the side was the only answer he found, just like the other 17 swords that had received the same condemnation.The angle in which he hit it didn’t matter, the smoothness seemed like a moot point, and the sword teetered too much to be respectable.

  “Buwan’s sake, what are you doing, Mahal?”

  “Sorry, father-”Mahal covered his mouth with his hammer, before realizing a little te that soot had gathered on it..

  “Mahal…” His father pleaded again as Mahal desperately got the coal taste out of his mouth.

  His father came around the corner as Mahal started to clean up the pce. His hammer, with the runes that still glowed silver through the soot, was to hang above the anvil as it swayed with the waves. The extra coals to the iron chest on the other side of the room.

  “Mahal, can we talk?”

  And stly, the impure iron that had melted off no longer hissed at him, instead presented itself as little dark blobs at bottom of the barrel. In recent years, Mahal had managed to reduce how much waste he made with each new project, which brought him at least a little comfort.

  “Mahal, please.”

  Mahal stopped what he was doing, only to turn towards his father. Standing about a half foot taller than him, his father wore an off-white shirt that held the sparsest of embeddings. That, paired with a set of slightly puffy pants, made up the fanciest outfit he had seen his father wear up to that point.

  As his father walked over, he heard a slight ‘tsk tsk’ noise before looking beyond Mahal. “Is that the Datu’s sword?”

  Mahal sighed as he refused to look back on the bde, “unfortunately…” His father threw the clothes onto a nearby stand as he went to inspect the Kupi sword.

  “It has quite a few scuff marks, I’m guessing from you throwing it in bin of doom”

  “Father, please,”

  But his father shooed him away, and used the moon light to study the bde. He cut through air, whisking it to the left and right, before thrusting it towards the wall.

  “It’s weighted nicely. And with how sharp the edges of the sword are defined here, he might even confuse it for a sword of Altha-Steel. In either case, I’m sure the Datu will find it pleasing, ”

  “But I won’t,” Mahal said matter-of-factly. Mahal went to collect his clothes, but as he did so, his father squinted his eyes as Mahal, with his arms crossed as he said,

  “I’m offended, Mahal,”

  “What do you mean?!”

  “You just called my own work worse than shit!”

  Mahal’s eyes rapidly opened as he staggered back. He even cleared more of the soot from his face as he looked between his father and the bde. What could his father have possibly meant? He had seen his father’s most recent project, he knew it had a quality to it only worthy of a Grand Datu.

  His father shook his head as he came over and messed up Mahal’s hair, “You are so flooded in the sins of the bde that you refuse to see the quality it has to it!”

  “But-”

  “I swear to Buwan, Nesanda, or any other god that can hear me, if you try to diminish the value of this bde again, I will personally throw you over the bow of this ship myself, and that is a guarantee”

  Neither one was able to hold a serious face for more than a few seconds, as both shared a casual chuckle. And before long, the temperature of the room followed the cools, as both cooled down.

  Mahal didn’t need to look at his father’s face to know that they were thinking the same thing. Otherwise, instead of this sea of stillness, both of them would be on the floor, ughing, crying or perhaps both.

  “So, Mahal, I’m not sure if I heard you correctly earlier, but-”

  Mahal pulled away, but his father rested his hand on Mahal’s shoulder. Everything had settled down, even his set of tools, which had been swinging wildly, were now as stiff as a statue.

  “Mahal, I… I know the circumstances are a bit different”

  Since the first memories he could recall, he had been swatted over the head with his Mah’awi. Expectations and rules his people had lived by, his life, all of it was to be decided today. And Mahal, despite having disagreements with some of the ways of old, could abide by them.

  “I apologize, I’ll make sure to stay clear of calling you that anymore.”

  But if there was one thing he could keep, Mahal wished it was his father. His friends, Valo & Mayari, both told him that they can always feel their parents’ souls, even after the ritual. But he wasn’t convinced by such tales, and he felt almost sure they had felt the same in some way.

  “No, it’s okay, Mahal. I… to be honest with you, I’ll miss hearing from you as my son rather than something akin to a stranger. If nothing else, this is for my own wishes as well”

  “But what about the elders, or the Datu, or even the rest of the cn? I saw somebody from the Aboli Cn got ridiculously shunned and shut out for doing the same…”

  Mahal’s father turned him around, and went in for a hug as he said, “Mahal, we’ll be okay” After a few seconds, both paused as his father continued, “Obviously, caution is always necessary. Remember, you must say Marcio”

  “Marcio, Marcio… By Buwan’s grace, I’d rather have coals down by apron than say your name”

  Just behind his father, the ship turned and gave him full sight of the isnd, with it, the docks. He had arrived so many times at this same spot, but never for his own reasons. Now, hundreds of people gathered on the isnd, just for him. He disliked that thought, and everything in his mind told him he should take a dingy and sail off to some remote nds.

  His father rested on a piece of the ship that y on the other side of the forge, “You’ll get through this. You’ll see, Mahal”.

  Mahal began to finish the st of the clean up for the forge, before taking a knee, and silently praying to the gods above. He knew there was nothing he could do to change tomorrow. He’d have to say good-bye to his father. All he could was pray that the gods gave him every extra minute possible.