Chapter 153: 153: Academy Life Starts IX (Birthday celebrations part three)

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Sera lifted a brow. "If she scowls at your cake, or tries to eat the biggest piece, I will scold her," she said, half amused, half warning.

Fizz, lounging on the temple railing like a fluffy philosopher, grinned. "No, no. Let her scowl. She can blow the candles out with it. Efficient teamwork."

Sera sighed but smiled. "I’ll tell her myself then. She listens to me better than she listens to reason."

Fizz put a paw over his chest. "Excuse me, I am the reason . Sugary reason."

"That," Sera said, "is exactly why I will do the talking."

She reached for the small communication crystal — pure white quartz, threaded with faint golden runes. When she held it, the air seemed to hush. A glow pulsed once in her palm as she whispered the name. "Elara."

The reply came crisp, like a sword sliding into its sheath. "Sera. Is there trouble?"

"No trouble," Sera said gently. "An invitation. Tomorrow, at the Bent Penny. John’s eighteenth birthday. A small, quiet celebration—no armor, no duty, no reports. Just stew and people who care for him."

There was a pause. Behind Elara’s voice, Fizz could hear faint metal sounds and someone shouting orders in the distance.

Then Elara spoke, a little softer. "He’s eighteen already?"

"Yes," Sera said. "You should come. Bring a gift, if you like. And bring your face that looks like you’re about to arrest dessert."

A faint snort — the closest Elara ever came to laughing. "I will attend for a short while. I will not drink."

Fizz leaned close to whisper loudly, "We will only drink soup and air!"

Sera gave him a look but didn’t stop smiling. "We’ll keep it simple," she told Elara.

"Tell Penny," Elara said, "I’ll pay for two jars of pickles. She’ll know which ones."

"I will," Sera promised. "See you tomorrow."

The crystal dimmed, the glow fading back into silence. Sera placed it gently on the altar.

Fizz bounced in delight. "She said yes! I heard it! That was a yes! We have stew, cake, and a woman who could decapitate a man for cutting slices unevenly!"

Sera chuckled. "That sounds about right."

Fizz clasped his paws dramatically. "The universe smiles upon us. The goddesses approve. The frosting will surely not curdle."

"You’ve been tasting the frosting again, haven’t you?" Sera asked, glancing toward the plate Ina’s apprentices had brought in earlier—half a tray of test cakes for temple offering.

Fizz froze midair. "I would never ... waste frosting."

Sera raised a brow. The tray was empty. The priestesses at the far table were staring at it in disbelief.

Fizz sighed. "Fine. I did a holy taste test. Divine quality assurance. Ina would thank me."

Sera covered her mouth to hide her laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Impossible," Fizz said proudly, "but very full." He patted his stomach and floated a slow circle in front of her. "Tell Ina her work is perfect. Tell her to make more for tomorrow. For research."

"I will tell her to lock her pantry," Sera said. "Now go before you eat a candle. Come back after you are done with the other work. I will go and help old Ina with the braking."

Fizz saluted with frosting still on his whiskers. "At once! I must report back to the headquarters of chaos — the Bent Penny! I will be back after I check on the progress."

He zipped toward the temple doors, nearly knocking over a bowl of holy water. A young acolyte gasped, but Sera waved her off, smiling faintly. "Let him go," she said. "He’s the only spirit I’ve met who can turn a birthday into a mission."

Fizz burst out into the temple courtyard, the sunlight catching in his fur like sparks. He soared above the marble steps, calling down to the pigeons, "Tomorrow! Cake for all who behave!"

One pigeon cooed back, unimpressed. Fizz pretended that meant yes.

He darted through the streets of the capital, leaving a faint scent of sugar and holy candle wax behind him. The market bells chimed, merchants shouted, and someone dropped a basket of oranges that rolled like applause.

When he reached the crooked lane, the sign of the Bent Penny was already swaying gently in the breeze. Fizz pushed the door open with a dramatic kick that had no effect because he was too light. Penny was behind the counter, arms deep in a dough bowl, and Edda was hanging paper garlands.

"Victory!" Fizz declared, zooming inside. "Elara confirmed! Sera secured! Ina’s cake is divine! The Lord Fizz approves and the frosting is holy!"

Penny didn’t even look up. "And you didn’t bring a single crumb back."

Fizz gasped. "I brought faith."

"You can’t eat faith," she said.

"You can if you try hard enough," Fizz replied gravely, licking his paw.

Edda dropped a garland over his head like a crown. "Welcome back, Lord Fizz, Knight of Gluttony."

Fizz stood taller. "Knight of Cake, thank you very much."

Penny shook her head but smiled. "So, it’s settled then. Tomorrow afternoon. Food ready. Decorations done. And you—" she pointed at him— "don’t eat anything until guests arrive."

Fizz nodded solemnly, which lasted exactly five seconds before he asked, "But what about testing the soup? For safety?"

"No soup," Penny said.

Fizz sighed tragically. "Fine. But if it turns evil, I will not be blamed."

He floated up onto the counter, nibbling the last crumb of temple cake he’d taken before leaving the temple. "Tomorrow will be perfect," he said softly, watching the afternoon light fill the tavern’s wooden beams.

Penny smirked. "Perfect and loud."

"Loud is perfection with volume," Fizz said.

The three of them laughed quietly, and somewhere outside, a church bell rang for the sixth hour.

Fizz looked toward the sound, wings humming with satisfaction. "Tomorrow," he whispered, "I will be a punctual legend."

"Do we need anyone else," Edda asked, list poised.

Fizz tapped his head. "Ina and cake. Sera and gift. Elara and scowl. Penny and stew. Pim and crimes. Cat if he comes. That is enough."