Predestination

The Color of the City

"So why is it the BLADE of Marmora, then? Why not 'Children of Marmora' or 'Marmora's Biggest Fans'?"

"Marmora was captured and killed by Zarkon. He never had any children," Kolivan answered with increasing annoyance. "And Marmora was a martyr, not a musician."

"He could've been both!"

"I'm not sure why I bother to answer your questions."

"Okay but seriously, what's with the 'Blade'?"

Kolivan whisked his sword out of its sheath, holding it so that its edge shined toward Lance. "When he was captured, one of Zarkon's aides, who had known Marmora personally, recovered a Luxite blade quite like this one. It was a family heirloom Marmora had chosen to fight with instead of his bayard. We took that family heirloom and made it into the crest of our Resistance."

~~~~~

Althos pulled Marmora away from the Castle of Lions, and down into the main square where people of many species were talking and laughing. The smell of food tickled Marmora's nostrils, making his stomach groan. He hadn't eaten since before they'd left their home world, and the many varieties of warm, spiced snacks from all around the universe seemed to be teasing him.

Althos stopped, turning to look back at Marmora. "You hungry?"

"No," he answered.

Althos raised an eyebrow, and Marmora felt heat rise into his cheeks. "Maybe a little."

Althos grinned. "Thought so. What do you wanna eat? It's on me. Treating the guest and all."

There were so many options that Marmora couldn't pick one. He pointed at a stand at random, and Althos quickly pulled him over to it.

"We'll take two, please!" Althos demanded of the stand's cook.

The cook, a middle-aged Altean woman, turned. As soon as she saw Althos, her customer-friendly smile widened. "Duke Althos! I hadn't expected to see you until night fell!" she paused, noticing Marmora. "Oh? Who's your friend?"

"Oh, we're not friends," Althos replied, letting go of Marmora's wrist. "We just met. He's one of the Galra envoy."

"Oh, REALLY!" the woman seemed delighted. "What an honor! Here, here, take some!"

She handed him a tray heaped full of her dumplings. It was definitely much more than the two helpings Althos had ordered.

"You need to eat a little more, honey!" the woman demanded cheerily. "You're small for a Galra! Good luck bonding with the Red Lion! I'll be cheering for you!"

Marmora blushed a deeper purple, quickly walking away while Althos paid for the food.

Althos turned and ran after him, catching up quickly. "Hey, what's the big deal? I buy you dinner and then you just ditch me?"

"S-sorry. I just don't like people commenting about my height."

"Huh? Oh, really?"

"Yes. Looking up to you is irritating."

"D'ya want me to shrink?"

"NO."

Marmora sat down on the street curb so that he could eat, looking out at the bright colors of the Altean festivities. Althos plopped down next to him, handing him a spork. "You're gonna need this, unless you wanna eat with your hands, you heathen."

It was a joke, Marmora could tell, but he scowled. "Why are you still with me? You're a duke, aren't you? Don't you have responsibilities?"

Althos leaned back on his hands, his tray in his lap. "Nope! On Altea, only the actual King and his daughter have any say in anything. The nobility only really serve as diplomats. Besides. I don't want to leave you alone in a new city. What if you got lost?"