Po’s Story Part 1: Contest of Teeth

Beauty is an interesting thing. For so long I thought it was a miracle as my family doted on me. My eyes had revealed their graces at two weeks earlier than expected, opening up to the world but only perceiving it with the naivety only children possess. My teeth developed our race’s signature, coveted sharpness at a year old, eschewing the usual belief that such features were relegated to the nobility. My breathing canals were the purest the sleepy village had seen in decades. I was gifted with extreme beauty, so extreme I had no less than four marriage proposals by the time I was two, or at least that’s how my mother tells it.

Such beauty made life easier for a while. My breathing canals made it easier to smell lies at the marketplace so I could always spot the best deals. My sharp teeth made people more likely to help me, though I only realized later that it was because of the remote possibility I was related to the nobility. Beauty was a fact of life for me, and I never knew any different.

One of my earliest memories was my mother letting me cuddle on her head, telling her friends that I made the prettiest accessory to her blue fur. Normally people would giggle or laugh at such a proclamation, but the other ladies could only nod seriously. After all, it was true.

By the time I was four and ready for school I was used to receiving such compliments and preferential treatment. I had learned how to capitalize on my beatify by saying please and thank you and carefully smiling at the adults, charming them. I knew the other kids were jealous of my easy life, but I couldn’t help that they weren’t born as I was. I didn’t have many friends either, my parents feeling entirely overprotective of me after a difficult pregnancy, and before my first day of school Tatiana, the sister closest to me in age sat me down to have a chat.

“Po,” she began, petting my silky blue hair, “many kids won’t like the way that you charm adults, and nobody will be there to stop them.”

She took a deep breath and delivered what was perhaps the most important line in my life until that moment. And maybe the most important line after that moment too.

“You have two options: excel or make friends.” She looked deep into my eyes, seemingly judging my very soul, or at least that was what it felt like to four-year-old me. “Excel, Po. Excel.”

With that as my mantra, I walked into the classroom: a small room already filled with children of varying ages. Despite being a small village- so small some noble that had passed years ago has wondered out loud if a new word for a village as small as ours should be invented- we still had a school. The Pact took care of us. And for all the Pact’s glory, I didn’t know it yet: my eyes still only as open as they were that first day I perceived light.

The room was small and dimly lit, relying entirely on windows for illumination. To call it a classroom was a bit of a misnomer, especially since it only held the younger children and could just as easily be called a daycare. The older children would work in the morning when the temperature was cooler and come in later for their lessons. Glory to the Pact for its education mandate.

The other children packed in were all a lot less beautiful, older, and larger than me and the first one that met my eyes was the winner in all those categories. Seeing me, he sneered, teeth bared in silent declaration. This was his territory. I looked at his teeth, a lot less sharp than mine and smiled back at him, making sure to reveal my own. In a contest of teeth, I would always win, even against my own father with all his Skills- though if I ever did that I would no longer have a place to spend the night. My sister was right- I would not make friends. I would excel.

Of course, I soon found out how hard that would be when the teacher looked up to see our contest of teeth, the other students staring at the two of us. The other student refused to break eye contact despite clearly being inferior, and I would not back down either. My teeth were my own and I would not retract them in front of this fool that denied his own loss.

A flash of light and a sharp crackling noise between the two of us broke our concentration. I had heard of such Skills as bedtime stories but never experienced them, I looked at the teacher, wide-eyed. Neither of my parents had such Skills, and the teacher’s use of a magical Skill instantly catapulted him to the top of my favorite adult list.

“Class, meet Po. Po, class.” The only adult in the room said dryly, introducing me. Meekly, I followed the rest of the children, all of their faces vaguely familiar to me from the market despite my parents best efforts. Sitting in front of the teacher, I placed myself the furthest I could from my antagonizer. I didn’t want to get in trouble- troublemakers couldn’t charm people. Beautiful or not. Charm would need to be used to ensure that the teacher would teach me about such a Skill. Unfortunately, it didn’t come up that first day and I had no chance to divert attention to the Skill.

By the time the lesson was over, though, I had learned one thing: the ruffian’s name- Kaliban, son of the village’s Head. Not only was he large but he was also old- old enough that he should have already earned his first Skill and been in the later lessons. And yet, he still hadn’t been invited to the Choosing Chamber and was stuck with the young children- the youngest of which was me. Apparently, it rankled on him that he was stuck in the same lessons as a four-year-old. And a four-year-old that seemed intent on embarrassing him. Even his father couldn’t manipulate the Choosing Chamber. Glory to the Pact.

I didn’t mean to show him up. I was just following my sister’s mandate to excel, learning my letter and numbers in quick succession. Soon after, I could read reasonably well and do simple math, moving past Kaliban’s level of mastery (or, more accurately, lack thereof) in a year. It was never truly a contest between the two of us- one day Kaliban knew more, and the next I was ahead in the curriculum. Unfortunately, it seemed that discussion of Skills was restricted to the older students that had already earned them.

My progress might sound extraordinary, and for most children it would have been. But my homelife was unchanged. Tatiana would take care of me once she was done with her own lessons, taking me off of mother’s hands so she could get her work done. Tatiana, like the rest of the village, had very limited Skills.

She was very diligent in practicing them however, sometimes taking me with her out to the garden work on her Gardening or hemming my pants before they were even fraying. While Tatiana wasn’t as beautiful as me, to me she was the most beautiful of my siblings. I never really saw Furlough, Lordaine, and Jennasylle since they had been recruited to the military before I was even born. I was proud of them though; they served the Pact.

Grant, I did see, but he couldn’t be more uninterested in me. The only time he pretended like he cared was when we had courting dinners with Drill and her family. It was appearing likely that they would join and build their own house in the village soon. I was looking forward to it, it would mean I got Grant’s bed, and, more importantly, his blanket. He never let me touch it!

One day after I had embarrassed Kaliban once again in class, Tatiana took me to the garden with her, looking more pensive than usual.

“Roland tells me you’re excelling.” She said after a long while, bent over on the ground, weeding. My job was to hold on to the bucket with the weeds and follow her around. She had also been trying to teach me to distinguish which plants were weeds. I wasn’t very good at it, barely passable. Today she hadn’t insisted on me helping her distinguish which plants to remove.

Roland was Kaliban’s older brother. I had seen him around a bit, it was a small village, it couldn’t be helped. Since I’ve started going to school in the mornings, Mom and Dad have relaxed a bit, letting me wander about a bit more.

“Yep, Teacher says I’m doing really well!” I smiled at her, excited that she had heard how I listened to her that first day. If anything, though, Tatiana’s face became more troubled than happy like I’d hoped.

“Po, you’re sure you don’t want to make friends? Roland said Kaliban would love to be friends with you. Isn’t it boring to just weed with me?” I frowned at her.

“No, I like this!” I didn’t, but I’d do anything to avoid Kaliban, especially with no adults around. “And you said I need to excel. I’m exceling!” I was careful in my pronunciation of the difficult word. While my teeth were enviously sharp it also meant I had to be extra attentive in my mouth movements.

“No way Kaliban said he’d want to be friends with me. Roland’s a liar.” I was sure of that, but Tatiana’s face flushed- either in anger or another emotion I couldn’t place at five years old. Already five years on this world, and still ignorant.

“Roland’s not a liar!” She never raised her voice at me, this was the first time. I froze, for a second, unsure what to do. If mom raised her voice I knew I needed to complete the chores, if father did I knew I had to apologize. With Tatiana this was uncharted territory.

Someone cleared their throat behind the two of us- Teacher and the village Head, who was looking like he smelled a particularly smelly piece of cheese. Ironically, the person he was eyeing was Tatiana, despite me being the one badmouthing his sons. Looking at the sun behind them, it was setting, indicating the daywork was over.

“We’re here to talk to your parents, are they home?” Tatiana looked like she’d just seen a ghost and scurried away without replying. For my part, I looked at Teacher and the village Head before running after her into the house.

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Small announcement: I'm going to try and get a backlog again- this means I'll try to upload here the normal 3 times a week (along with Side Stories) and try to simultaneously make more of the tier into edited chapters. Eventually, the uploaded chapter will be edited and you won't need to deal with drafts. This should also make sure all the chapters are a good length- something I usually take care of when editing.

This is part 1 of Po's story, and we'll have at least one more part (after all, no paperwork yet!). I am also planning on a part 3, but it might be relevant to the plot- in which case I'll incorporate it (or a part of it) into the main story. Regardless, I'm really enjoying getting a deeper look into Po's character- let me know what you think:)