Caer Sidi housed many buildings that towered over others, either by their size, their mishmash of colors, or how out of time they felt besides the rest. A few, though, stood out from the rest; and none glossed so cleverly like the Clover Arena, a colosseum stacked on daily cleaned green and yellow bricks, divided on the inside into four open-air locations, separated by high, vines covered walls and stone pillars. A refugee from the stress of civilized living.

The visitors, unwillingly, divided it into four sectors for all kinds of activities, the two most popular being filled with lunch tables, food stands, and open dance floors. The second was identical, except it also had open bars, where groups would hang out to drink and share their dirty secrets. The Sidians knew them exclusively as the “Picnic Leaf” and the “Tipsy Paradise”.

Sectors three and four lagged in the number of daily guests, but they overcame that deficit with the most loyal base of recurring visitors. Many fans of the third area, “The Real Arena” considered themselves people with either: A. a bottomless amount of gut or B. a complete lack of it, to return there day by day. Tens of painters, designers, singers, sculptors, writers, etc. mushed together in open arenas to practice their art in front of thousands of onlookers.

While their neighbors of the fourth sector, the “Crafts Spiral” trained in small fields, crafting their bodies, gadgets, or anything else that required a good hammering or a sharp cut.

…

Arim thought to bring Lian and Ogda through the nicer part first, as a small bumper before the ride, hoping that locations filled with firgs sharing a meal and a laugh, would alleviate from the aura of awkwardness that felt over since the spar. To his luck, it worked, at least for one half of the duo.

-” Oh my, it’s quite lively here”, remarked a giddy Lian, whose face brightened seeing the party atmosphere of the place. Then the instruments changed, and her heart stopped in place. Lian's ears perked and listened closely, tuning out everything else to catch the song that felt like an old acquaintance. Soon after, her fingers snapped in tandem with the fiddle, then her hands slowly clapped with each drum beat.

-” Lian, are you ok?”, asked Ogda, who for a moment returned to his usual self. For him, the place was a bit too lively, but thought he could at least “stand” the music. Seeing her enjoying it, though, filled him with a drop of dread. “Does…does she not have a musical ear?”

Arim tucked half of his face deep inside his collar, trying to hide it from the crowd, but whenever someone called out to him, he tried to be polite and wave back. Zinc, on the other hand, was chirping to the tune.

People were beating spoons to the tune, and two dropped in front of the Lian, which something awoke inside of her. She started to bang one another, quickly learning the cadence of the drums. When the fiddle came, she stopped, listened to the cords, and followed them with a childfull smile on her face.

All the fun brought another flicker of the past to the excited young redhead. Her hands were tiny and puffy, and they were banging spoons without following the rhythm of the song. Around her, humans were dancing around an open fire. Then another set of clings drew her attention to her left, catching a pair of even smaller hands, clumsily trying to imitate her. The music stopped, and she remembered; “ I knew her.”

…

The teen with the cashew hair and her cowl wearing guide arrived in the third sector, dodging pencils, pens and flying sparks, friendly shouts and taunts. The “Real Arena”, as it was called, was where critics and artists embodied the same fiery beast. If you were a newcomer, you stood near the pillars; it was an unwritten rule to help them avoid getting crushed by the harsh tones of stressed-out artisans, who would call out anything they considered a mistake.

Firg artist-” Why are you using bolts for that statue, you moron?! Nails, my sister from another mother, use the damn nails!”

Firg sculptor-” Ah, shove it, you half-baked painter! I didn’t smack you over the head when you used the red chalk, even though I knew it wouldn’t mix well with the rest! I have my way of doing it, and you have your system!”

Tommen -'' Hey guys, let’s calm down, we all have a method, no need to be so aggressive”. Among the rowdy artists was a young human, lanky in stature and a skeletal build around his waist. His facial features made him look much older than he was though, as a brown-braided beard hid all his late pimples, while his hair had long reached his belly. Still, among his peers, his looks didn’t help him stand out, but his equipment certainly did. A type of parchment was floating in front of him, tilting and following the command of his left hand, while his right one was penciling a portrait.

-” Shut the hell up Tommen and check your line work, you went over the angle on the left side”, shouted from the back, another firg painter. The boy glanced at the mistake, and after making a surprised “Ah”, he nicely thanked his critique. “ NO PROBLEM!”, the firg replied.

Just then, though, the familiar voice of Brigit caught his attention and greeted her with a soft smile.

Tommen -“ It’s so nice to see you around these parts. Welcome, welcome.  And who is this little kin of mine that is with you?” The boy's relaxed voice confused the girl for a moment, but a second later mistook it for condescension, completely the opposite understanding Tommen wanted to convey.

Maci -” Little? I’m the biggest player in my team, you paper bear! My powerful kicks brought us tens of goals, and I can prove it immediately if you want!”

Brigit then put her palm over her mouth and pushed the girl's cap over her eyes. “This is Maci Decelle, and she is under my supervision for now. Listen, you told me that you and Giol want to try the Fect pact again, right?”

Tommen -” Yeah, we are still trying to find out why it’s not working for us… Wait, did you say Decelle?”

Maci -” Qui, je suis français, qu’est-ce que c’est pour toi?”, replied the teen angrily before being muted by Brigit's palm again.

Tommen glanced at the girl, then back at Brigit, and saw how she motioned him to cut it. “Right. Anyway, my brother is in the Crafts Spiral, working on the ritual space…wait, are you two also planning on making a pact?”

-” Of course we are!” shouted a muffled Maci, after which Brigit let her free from the shackles of her hand.

Tommen -” Brigit, is this ok?” asked with concern the Nordic illustrator, who was ignoring the rowdy teen. “I mean…”, he wanted to ask a more direct question, but didn’t know how to hide it from Maci.

Brigit -”  Yes. I already talked this over with everyone, and even convinced Perren. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be partners with this ball of energy? She and I will make a great team, ok?”

While not entirely convinced, Tommen gave up on arguing with her and started packing his gear. “ Eh, c’est comma ca. Let’s see if Giol is done. If we’re lucky, we’ll meet up with Arim and his guests before the whole shebang.” Maci groaned at the young man’s attempt of butchering the French, but moved on, in fear of another muzzle.

Brigit-” Wait, more people? Fantastic, if we’re lucky we’ll see another pact today! I’m more excited now. C’mon, Maci, let’s go!”

….

-” Heellou?”, asked a honey-toned voice, followed by a small knock on a semi-open door. Krass stuck part of his head to check the unkempt room, looking for a person and, preferably, a response. None was given, but still, that didn’t mean that the room was empty.

For the past four months since he took on the reins of the Platinum Union by his lonesome self, its leader found out that the ins and outs of dealing with all the paperwork wasn’t a walk in the park. The numbers went up and down when they should have been equal, notations differed from file to file, and learning how to read different handwriting should be a mandatory course in schools. The other members noticed his mood changes from one day to another, along with his eye bags.

-” Should I wake him? Hmmm, has he just fallen asleep or is he just passed out?” While none of the options were healthy for the sleepy leader, Krass was happy enough knowing that he got some shut eyes. He slowly backed out to the door, until a sudden slapping sound made him quickly turn around to see that the leader accidentally smacked himself over the face with a tome.

??? -” Who’s there?”, yelled the deep sleeper with half a mouth.

-” Masso…are you ok? It’s me, Krass… Did you have a nice nap?”

Masso -” Who? Show yorslf!” He then grabbed a glass of water from a nearby table and splashed himself half-awake, enough for him to wiggle his numb hand on the floor, looking for something. A lantern of sorts, with tubes pointing in four directions, which could open and close with an individual switch. And the light it emitted at full strength could ignite a candlestick, as Krass’s eyes found out when they got blinded by it.

….

Krass -” It’s good to see…find you sleeping, uhm… should I call you Leader now or do you still hate it?”

Masso -” Just keep it to my name. It still weirds me out to hear you guys call me leader. What about you, do you want me to call you Captain now that you have led a few missions?”

Krass -” YES! Oh, it’s exhilarating, especially since I can boss Blitz around. Seeing his annoyed face after all the years of him being a little pranking shi…” Krass then stopped, as Masso’s face muscles were contorting into a mask of worry and concern. “ Sorry…old grudges die hard and all. But I do promise to smother them…in time”.

-” Right…” replied his dormant leader with half a mouth. “Next problem I need is you two bickering. Maybe another time, sure, but not now. So, regarding the hunt, give me the details after I hear your opinion on it. Was it the black water?”

The room’s dark atmosphere got pitcher than when it was unlit. Both of their postures were tense, with Krass crossing his arms tight to his chest, trying to find the right phrase to not raise alarms, but he knew he couldn’t.

Krass - “ Yes.”, he replied shortly. “ Don’t know if the reports for the other attacks are 100% correct, and the cocoon we retried is unbroken, but I do think it’s the same substance that wiped out Brigit’s village so many years ago. “