Chapter 157: 157: Academy Life Starts XIII (Birthday celebrations part Seven)

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Penny sniffed and pushed a bundle into John’s hands. "A young man needs a decent set of clothes," she said like she was scolding a chair. "Shirt, trousers, vest, proper socks that don’t pretend to be ropes. I measured you with my eyes because I am old, experienced, and my eyes know their work."

John untied the string. The cloth was good — honest weave, sewn by someone who cared about straight lines. The vest had a deep pocket made to hold pencils or secrets. "Thank you," he said, and he meant the you as much as the thanks . "I’ll wear it and pretend I’m someone."

Penny snorted. "Pretend nothing. You are someone. You just need pockets."

"Next!" Fizz shouted, spinning to Pim. "Crimes!"

Pim’s ears went red. He held up a crooked bracelet made of cheap thread and five beads that did not belong together. "I made it," he said, suddenly shy. "I... put a little charm on it. Penny says it’s fake. But if you tie it twice and wish, you won’t lose your way in the city. Probably."

Fizz gasped. "It is powerful," he declared. "The charm of honesty. Put it on, John."

John bent and let Pim tie the knot. He wished, because why not, and the knot snugged like it had opinions. "I love it," he said, and Pim’s grin went too big for his face.

"Paladin!" Fizz pointed at Elara with both paws.

Elara produced a small wrapped box like it offended her to have it in her possession. Inside lay a plain iron coin on a leather thong, stamped with a sunburst on one side and a blank on the other. "Not useful," she said, before Fizz could. "Not useless. It’s a temple paladin marker; you show the bright side if you ask for help. The blank side if you offer it. Some doors notice. Some people do too."

John nodded, thumb rubbing the sunburst. "Thank you," he said, and Elara looked relieved to be done being soft.

Edda stepped forward, holding a pair of boots that did not look like trouble until you looked closely. Simple black leather. Good stitching. Faint runes burned into the soles—nothing flashy, but there if you knew to see. "Speed," she said. "Not long. Not loud. Enough to turn a bad corner into a sharp one. I had a friend carve them in the lane where the guards don’t go. You run; they help."

John touched the runes with a careful finger and felt the hum of borrowed quick. "I will use them well," he said. Edda’s jaw unclenched a fraction.

Sera stepped forward with a small neat roll of paper tied with blue. Fizz peered. "A letter," he said, already preparing a roast. "Ah yes, the best gift: thoughts . How moving."

"Shut up," Sera said sweetly, swatting the air. She untied the ribbon and read the top line out loud so there was no hiding. "Transfer of Title. Shop in the capital."

The room went quiet.

Sera met John’s eyes. "It’s small," she said. "But it’s yours. The front room is a shop. The back has a forge that needs a good hand. Above it, two rooms and a loft. It is not fancy. It is solid. It’s for... Fizz Holdings." Her mouth twitched, and Fizz preened. "There are smiths in the village, who follow you. You need a shop. Bring them when you can. Open a shop here. Sell. Be a fixed point, so no one can say you are only dust."

John stared at the paper like it might be a trick that would fold into a bird and fly away if he moved too fast. "Sera," he said softly, "this... this is too much."

"No," she said, very calm. "Too much is what is given to boys who do nothing. This is enough for a boy who has done something." She dipped her chin. "Say yes. Or I will be offended and Ina will make a cake that attacks you."

Ina nodded, solemn. "I can."

Fizz was vibrating. "Think of the sign," he whispered to John. "Think of the logo. Think of the branding . Fizz Holdings. It screams quality. It screams respect. It screams snacks ."

John laughed helplessly and looked at Sera. "I’ll take it," he said, voice thick. "But I will repay you. With a gift that doesn’t fit in a room."

Sera’s eyes shone. "I’ll wait."

Fizz jumped into the air and did a triumphant loop. "And now," he cried, "the main event! The gift to end all gifts! The thing you did not know you needed but will name your children after!"

He made everyone drum the table. Penny rolled her eyes and drummed anyway. Elara tapped her knuckles. Edda used the heel of her hand once, because she’s efficient like that. Pim beat out a war rhythm. The cat flicked its tail exactly twice for form.

Fizz reached under the table with great ceremony, struggled for dramatic effect, and then lifted his prize: a black, round stone the size of a tennis ball. It was not shiny. It did not glow. It did not hum. It looked... like a rock. A fancy rock, maybe. But a rock.

The room did that silent thing crowds do when they don’t want to hurt feelings but also how dare you.

Edda pinched the bridge of her nose and thought, I told him. I told him that the stall was for fools and brave children. He said my knowledge was low and then paid a whole coin for a rock. She sighed inwardly and decided she would die for this idiot anyway.

John took the "stone" in both hands like it might bite him. It was heavy in a way that felt alive—dense, yes, but warm. "Thank you," he said, because he meant it even if he did not know what he meant. "What is it, Fizz. Is it... connected to my void?"

Fizz tsk-tsk’ed like a rude professor. "You know nothing, John," he said grandly. "It is not a rock. It is a rare egg. Very rare. I do not know how old. I do not know what kind. I do know there is life inside. I can feel it when I press my ear and make my mind quiet. We will hatch it. You and me. It will be useful. Maybe it will spit stars. Maybe it will hold doors open. Maybe it will write poems. But it will be ours ."

Everyone blinked, recalibrated, and did the smart thing: they took Fizz at his word because he is wrong loudly when he is wrong and terrifyingly sure when he is right.