Chapter Text
The sun sat high in the sky, warming the back of the purple chameleon’s head as he walked along the dirt path home. It was like any other day. Espio kicked up some dirt on the windy road, watching the tiny plumes of cloud poof into the air. A small smile graced his face as he basked in the warm sun. The bag slung over his shoulder was clinking with new pots of ink and a journal.
“Another hot one,” Espio muttered, wiping the small beads of sweat from his forehead. It seemed like it was always hot in this blasted town.
In the distance, a loud, high-pitched voice cried out from the direction of his home. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he took off into a quick sprint towards home. His fingers twitched by his side, but the hilt of his defense wasn’t there. His sword would be at home, resting by his door.
Of all days.
His house came into view as he sprinted on foot, praying that his new ink pots wouldn’t break as he made his way in. He noticed the front door was still closed, and an intruder wouldn’t be so polite to shut it after he barged in, right? After nearly tripping up the stairs, he burst through the door while his heart was thumping wildly in his chest.
Only to find Charmy wailing with crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks as he pointed towards Vector. Vector sighed and pinched his forehead, simply holding the board game out of reach of the young bee. The game pieces were spread out across the living room in what looked like a fit of rage as Charmy sat in the middle of it all.
Espio huffed, mildly annoyed that he was even worried for a second about them. “Whatever you did, Charmy, you probably deserved it,” Espio muttered as he properly shut the front door behind him.
That only made Charmy wail more, his golden eyes going round and wide, and Espio flinched. He didn’t like loud noises, especially those made by children. “V-Vector took the game from me!” He hiccuped, pointing his fingers towards the croc in question.
Again, Vector sighed and gave Espio a tired look. “He bit me because he thought I was cheating,” he said, snatching the board away from Charmy’s reach. Low and behold, a bite mark was on his arm.
These two were sometimes so ridiculous that it was almost laughable. Instead, Espio sighed and walked away from them. “Would you two stop acting so immature?”
“But he was cheating! I swear!” Charmy whines. His tears have stopped now, but his bottom was jutted out.
Espio ignored the two and instead went to his room, which was nice and quiet. His room was small, but he loved it. There was a twin-sized bed and a decent-sized window next to it. It lit up the room in a way that even him being a poet couldn't describe. There was a small desk with some blank paper scraps, an ink pot, and an old quill pen on top of it. He went to his desk and pulled the chair out from the desk causing a loud scraping noise that made the chameleon flinch.
He sat and picked up the quill pen from the designated ink pot. Holding it right above the paper, he sat with a blank mind.
Nothing came.
Espio had been going through a bit of writer’s block lately. At one point, the words used to flow from his mind to the paper like water from a fountain. He found beauty in everything, always knowing just the right words to describe the feelings invoked. But ever since the poet had grown in popularity by posting his poems anonymously on the daily bulletin board in the town square, nothing seemed to come from his mind. The words seemed too clunky, seemed forced, or just didn’t resonate with him.
And no one disliked imperfection like Espio did.
But his stash of poems was running out. He needed to make new ones before his alias’ popularity burned out.
Sighing, he stretches and a glint catches his eye in the corner of his room- his sword. Espio’s pride and joy. It was a beautiful work, hand-crafted and imported from the western country. This sword held a place in Espio’s heart.
“Hey, Espio! Ya in there?” Vector was behind his closed door. His loud voice boomed through the thin wood and Espio jumped at the noise.
Clutching his chest, Espio calmed his breathing and said, “What is it?” His hands flew to the papers spread across his desk and he started to stack them all together while keeping his voice even.
“You have that thing tonight, right?” Vector opened the door, sticking his snout in the door.
The chameleon rolled his eyes, wondering why Vector always made such a deal out of the tournament. They weren’t a huge deal to the chameleon, just another means to make money to support them. The door creaked, and Espio’s golden gaze flickered to it, finding that Vector only stuck his snout inside. He quickly slid his poems into the designated drawer, making sure it shut all the way.
“What thing?” Espio replied, turning back to his desk. He thought he would humor Vector a bit.
A sigh escaped Vector's lips and he fully stuck his head inside Espio’s room. The chameleon’s hands twitched, wanting to protect his drawers with his hidden poems in them but he kept them in his lap.
No one, not even his family, knew about his poetry. It was his words, his thoughts, and his wildest dreams.
"You know what I'm talking about," Vector sighs, stepping into his room. The large croc sits on the edge of the chameleon's bed, his shoulders sagging. Espio knew how much of a failure it made Vector feel not to be the breadwinner of their atypical family. He could see it when Vector's eyes dulled after he came back with cuts and scrapes from his competition. He could see it when his shoulder hunched over as Espio handed over most of his winnings for their taxes. But it didn't matter to Espio. As long as they had a roof over their heads, Espio didn't care what he had to do.
And it’s not like these tournaments weren’t fun to do. Yes, the extra money was nice. It made their lives more comfortable, one without a ton of sacrifices. But this wasn’t something that Espio felt like he had to do. Sword fighting was a hobby, one he was glad he could take part in.
Espio huffed and shot Vector a small smile. "Yes, there's the start of a tournament tonight. It's quite the big one," Espio says, grabbing his prized sword. The dark blade glinted in the afternoon sunlight of his room. "The knights’ll be joining us."
“But I know you'll come out on top," Vector says, giving Epsio a crooked smile. He stood, taking a step towards him.
Vector gave him a hesitant smile before patting his shoulder and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him softly.
Espio’s mask hung on the doorknob, his costume in his closet. There were some things he wanted to keep private and his home life was one of those things. As much as he loved the simplicity of the tournaments, and the money, he would prefer to keep his home life separate. Especially with Charmy around. He didn’t want the kid to grow an ego at the attention surrounding his older brother.
The purple chameleon admired his sword. He clenched the hilt in his hand, a small furrow in his brow. “I’ll do my best,” he muttered.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Arugh!” Espio grunted as yet another relentless attack was launched at him.
The tournament was in full swing. The Tournament of the Fabled is one of the most anticipated tournaments of the year. It was one of the few events that knights of the kingdom were allowed to join and nothing made Espio happier than having some real competition. The town loved the tournaments as well, but being able to see the knights in action was always something the townsfolk liked to see.
His attacker, a Mobian squirrel, only grinned when he finally managed to push Espio to the edge of the penalty line. “What? Is a knight all it takes to finally knock you down from your pathetic little pedestal?” He mocked, coming closer. The squirrel’s busy tail bristled behind him, twitching with each step he took closer to the masked chameleon. “Oh, almighty Bartholemew, taken down by a knight.”
The chameleon gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. Sweat beaded beneath his mask.
“What, forget how to speak?” His opponent taunted, coming closer with an easy swagger. The crowd was cheering, some for Espio’s opponent, some for "Bartholomew."
Espio waited until his opponent had sauntered close enough. With the last bit of stamina he had left, he lunged forward. His opponent’s confidence had faltered as he threw out a last minute parry. But Espio didn’t give him a chance to counter back.
His golden eyes flickered down to his opponent’s hand and he knocked the hilt of his sword away from him. The sword clanked to the ground as the squirrel’s eyes darted towards his fallen weapon. “Bartholomew” then kicked the sword out of bounds with a low sweep of his foot, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath.
With a sword pointed at his opponent's chest, “Bartholomew” let a smirk grace his lips and he looked the squirrel in the eye.
“Seems the knight had his tongue cut,” ‘Bartholomew’ said, smirking tiredly down at the squirrel. The crowd cheered at the masked chameleon’s win as the mediator declared ‘Bartholomew’ the winner.
The squirrel, Fredric from what the crowd was calling him, gave Espio a nasty glare. What he had done to warrant such a look (besides beating him), he didn’t know. It felt personal even though he had never met this mobian in his life.
Espio wasn’t one to show such sportsmanship. Why did he need to when no one even knew of his identity? Perhaps he should change that. Fredric had given him a run for his money.
Holding out a gloved hand, Espio waited for him to give him a shake. The crowd had watched them, most of them cheering. “Hey, you did wel-”
But Fredric cut him off, slapping his hand away. The crowd hushed slightly as Espio quickly withdrew his hand. His golden eyes narrowed onto Fredric’s grey ones. A storm was brewing in them, dark and cloudy.
“I don’t need your pity,” the squirrel growled before storming off the stage.
A small hmph came from Espio before he left the panel. He had a little bit of time before his next match. His mind lingered on the squirrel for a little longer before he shook his head slightly. Of course, the one time he decided to be a good sport and it went backwards on him. Entering the nearby tavern, he took a deep breath and pushed his last opponent out of his mind.
Ordering a cup of water at the bar, he slid onto a barstool. Espio briefly wondered if Charmy and Vector had made it out today. Usually, they could find someone to keep watch on their sleuthing agency, but with the turnout today, Espio didn’t have high hopes.
While he waited, he noticed the knights and other civilians were waiting around for their turn. It appeared that even some of them were a little tipsy.
Really, why was the waiting area in a bar of all places?
Espio could feel eyes on him, but it didn’t bother him at all. Though, there was the silver hedgehog staring at him from the corner of the room, golden eyes wide with amazement. There was also a wolf next to him, his face half covered with his knight’s visor. Making sure his mask was still on, he slowly turned away from him.
“What an odd day,” Espio muttered to himself, throwing back the water like it was hard liquor.