A gentle ringing bell sounds through the blacksmith’s shop, a stark contrast to how damaged the shop was. Metal scraps littered the counter top, assorted armour pieces and low quality weapons on display. Fleur nervously looks over the gear, concern for her sister evident on her face. She adjusts her blessing belt, nervously running her left wing over the dim gem in its centre.

  A battered voice carries through the shop, quiet yet loud enough to alert the two to its inhabitant. “Fuck off, you shits. Nothing on display is valuable enough to steal.” Fleur takes in the odd words before realising that has been the first time she's heard her swear. “Unless you want to pedal cheap iron tools and armour that’ll gladly get you killed, then bug off to the hole where you live.”

  “Maribelle!” There's a tense pause after Fleur’s outburst, broken by a mop of dishevelled cornflower blue wings coming into view. the unkept and willowy feathers droop down, barbs in a twisted mess from refusing to take care of her wings. Pale skin matching Fleur’s comes into view as she turns the corner, a bob of similar blue hair bouncing slightly as she takes in a very welcome sight. “What the hell happened to you?” Fleur takes a step towards her half-sister. “You go off to make your own shop and somehow you look even worse than that time I took you drinking and found you the next day-”

  Maribelle crosses the room in three strides, wrapping her wings around Fleur and squeezing her tightly. Fleur gasps at the feeling, before trying to wrap her wings around her in return. “It really is you.” Maribelle whispers into her shoulder, starting to openly weep. The two stand there and lament the few years lost as Maribelle cries and Dave awkwardly peruses the cheap gear. “Better stuffs in the back.” She mumbles to Dave despite not seeing him. “Go ahead.” He quickly accepts her invitation, shuffling to the back, armour clanking as he moves.

  The two finally separate a few minutes later, Fleur holding her at wing’s length. A ruby red bandana was loosely wrapped around her neck, slightly damp from tears and charred at the tip. An emerald green crop top style corset loosely fit her lithe frame, cut just above her belly button. Thin breeches matching her corset colour tightly hug her legs down to where skin meets scute, shiny cuffs decorate her outer legs, tightening the breeches. A sky blue fabric belt wraps around her waist, tightly tied up hiding her own blessing belt.

  “That's a new outfit.” Fleur teases, a smile on her face.

  “I own more than just that sundress you know.” Maribelle does smile as well, nostalgic at the past. “I have fifteen versions of it.” There's a small pause before the two start to laugh, going for another hug. “So, who did you bring in? Your girlfriend or something?”

  Fleur chuckles at the thought for a moment. “Nah, he prefers pink-heads.” The effect is instant as Maribelle pulls away, chocolate eyes widening at her words. “New level one man. Presumably in your workshop.”

  “My workshop doubles as my bedroom.” With that the two head into her workshop/bedroom, Maribelle giddy at the prospect of meeting a man.

  Dave looks over a nice shield, admiring the steel’s sheen when the two enter. He turns to the two and gets to witness Maribelle start to practically vibrate on the spot at seeing him. “Tin!” He guesses the armour is slightly more interesting. His helmet leaves the relative safety of his noggin, now nestled in her wings. “Very high quality! Masterfully made, it’s almost a shame to melt it down. Almost.” She almost skips past him, much to his amusement. “But what to do with it? Sell it or find some use for it?”

  “Uhh,” Dave mumbles, unsure how to handle the suddenly energetic harpy, “It’s my gear. Don’t I have a word with my own stuff?” She nods to his question, placing the helmet on the beaten up anvil in the corner. “I was hoping you could outfit me with new stuff. That tin is heavy and I don’t really like being weighed down, not to mention it feels kind of fragile.”

  “Tin is fragile.” Dave’s expression from Maribelle’s comment makes Fleur chuckle.

  Fleur casually sits on Maribelle’s bed, the mattress not even sinking in the slightest. “We should be getting supplies for a home trip and,” She pushes down on the bed with a wing, “Why in blazes is your bed as hard as a rock? Right. What type of shops are here?” Maribelle gazes over to her half-sister and starts to chuckle. The chuckle starts to turn into outright laughter over a minute, her laid over the anvil in hysterics, helmet bouncing on the floor. The almost mad laughter freezes immediately when they hear the sound of the bell.

  “Man, shove all your valuable shit into your inventory or bag, now.” Maribelle hisses before arming herself with a dagger and marching to the storefront, Fleur following. She can recognise trouble when she sees it, three harpies with short hair and hardened leather armour. A battle axe of steel and two swords, one an ornate rapier and the other a more rudimentary sabre of iron rest on their thighs.

  “Hello again, blacksmith bitch!” The clear leader, the rapier user, sashays towards Maribelle with a knowing grin. “How's business? Oh, wait! I know! No sales again, as all blacksmiths should. Filthy animals.”

  Fleur gets between the two, much to the rapier user’s mild surprise. “The fuck do you mean by that and who the hell are you scamps?” The two size each other up. Fleur knows she won’t be much use in such a small enclosed wooden building, but the risk of a fight holds both parties back for a moment. Dark blue eyes narrow at Fleur’s amber. “Well?”

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  With a single flap of crimson feathers she takes to the air, rapier drawn and pointed at Fleur. “I am Aster, just a well meaning citizen looking after the harpies of this town. Blacksmiths are pure cruelty and deserve no chance to ruin our livelihood.”

  “Bullshit,” Maribelle takes to the sky next, drawing a fancy kris knife she took from her room, “You're just a thief like the rest of this place! I’m just trying to make a living and have no connection to your insane idea of what happened ages ago!”

  The other two assisting Aster take flight, slightly unnerved at how Fleur seems unbothered by the blade at her throat. “A blacksmith deliberately burnt Gelsai sixty years ago!” Aster claims, although Fleur isn’t quite believing this. “You will hand over your merchandise. Or else.”

  “[Rally Luck]!” Maribelle yells, a gentle zing calming the two as they feel lucky. An [Adventurer] skill that Fleur was so proud of.

  “[Reject Rally]!” The teal harpy yells, the feeling of luck turning to dread as Fleur immediately identifies her target. She guesses it's a fight in this closed cramped room. Three melee users against a support and ranged fighter. She gladly opens the poorly thought out fight. With a quick pace back she leaps into the air, drawing her pewter magic bow in a fluid action. The user, now revealed as a [Knight] recognises she's the target a little too late.

  “[Seeker]!” The room turns into chaos as the eleven bolts fly from her bow, impacting the three targets randomly as the bolts attempt to home in on the teal feathered [Knight]. Fleur lands, using the pandemonium to get her own rally skill active. “[Rally Speed]!” The two immediately feel lighter on their feet, a soft wind seems to form around the two, aiding their movement as Maribelle hops in, kicking with her foot at the axe user.

  The kris dagger leaves a deep cut in her wing, forcing her to her talons, unable to use the heavy axe. She backs up, Maribelle unable to pursue thanks to Aster jabbing in her direction. Fleur watches the axe user reach into her void bag and take out a few vials of red liquid. Fleur has a much better idea. A well aimed magical arrow pierces the vial in her foot, glass and spilt health potion spilling over her.

  Aster grumbles at how complicated this had become. Maribelle is apparently able to take flight, even if she clearly struggles at staying in the air. “[Rally Me]!” Having identified herself as a [Gladiator] she immediately goes on the offensive. “[Finisher]!” Both jump out the way as Aster dashes forward in the air, rapier narrowly missing Fleur’s face. She lands by the doorway to the bedroom/smith, turning with a grin to the boxed in harpies. Maribelle faces the wounded axe user and [Knight] while Fleur squares off against Aster, still on the ground.

  “I’ll give you one chance, blacksmith and whoever the fuck this random is.” Aster scoffs at Fleur. “Both of you will give us everything you own or else we’ll kill you right now.” Maribelle seethes while Fleur just laughs at her.

  “Yet you’ve not even hit us once.” Fleur taunts, flipping her hair with a wing. Maribelle smirks at this.

  “Kill the-” A shadow behind Aster goes completely unnoticed until she freezes in the sky, a sudden lump in the chest area of her leather vest, the fancy weave distorting as it is pushed forward. She falls to her talons from the air, dropping the rapier as she stumbles forward and to the side, a sickening slurping as she comes off the bloodied copper spearhead, somehow still intact. She beholds the unarmoured man, Dave. “Oh thats bull-”

  “[Returning Stab]!” Aster tries to duck what she hears from Maribelle, yet the intense burning in her back, only survived by her passive stops her from being able to duck far enough. Everyone watches with expressions from horror to gleeful revenge as Maribelle’s thrown dagger implants itself to the halfway point in her temple, then immediately teleports back to her waiting foot. Aster collapses from the blow, very laboured breathing croaking out.

  “She’s in [FATAL], Secure her!” The axe wielder takes to the sky again, apparently healed. “[Rushdown]!” She charges the closest target to Aster, Fleur trying to get out of the way.

  “[Impact]!” Both the axe user, Fleur and Maribelle all yell at the same time, attacking their chosen target. Dave rushes in to try to stab Aster an additional time, clumsily scampering across the heavily blood-soaked floor.

  Dagger and axe collide, knocking both weapons off balance, the axe goes into the floor while Maribelle’s leg is twisted, her hissing at the pain as her weapon falls from her grasp. Fleur’s empowered arrow isn't as unlucky, striking the exposed jugular of the enemy. She collapses to the ground, gasping for air as the magic works through her vocal cords and trachea. She watches Dave implant his spear into Aster’s back again. Maribelle kicks the axe user on her back. Her eyes go to the fleeing sabre user, door slamming behind her. Maribelle takes a twisted glee in plunging her dagger into leather armour, the floor getting pierced below her.

  There’s a small pause as the three take in the scene they had created, varying levels of relief at how uninjured they were.

  “This town’s a shithole.” Fleur states the obvious as she tends to Maribelle’s injured ankle. “We get attacked by three melee units, somehow we kill two of them and nobody comes to see what's going on?” The two bodies rested in shallow graves out back, fully removed of anything of value.

  “Sunk cost fallacy.” Maribelle mumbles, “This town is hell, where the Old World Harpies don’t retire, the working class majored in crime and the chicks came out the egg with a stolen bag. Nothing is owned unless you fight for it, and steal it. How am I meant to live here? Gods, we don’t even have plumbing!”

  To Fleur it’s obvious, but it's Dave who points it out. “Come back with us. To, uhh, Birchlea, I think the town is called. We have plumbing there, right?”

  “Yeah.” Fleur gladly takes the rapier and axe left on the ground, shoving them into her void bag. “Birchlea was one of the first towns to complete the Beekaline species' innovation of indoor plumbing. You saw the bathhouse.”

  Maribelle thinks it through for a moment, before gently hugging herself. “I still have to do some things here.”

  “We’ll help, but first. Dave needs new armour.” Fleur looks to Dave who gives her a little wave. Marbelle nods with confidence.

  “He killed that thorn in my ass. The best armour I have does not feel like it’s enough, but let's do it!”