A gentle breeze swept through the dwarf city of Dwargo, carrying with it the clinks of hammers against anvils and the rich scent of hot metal. Morning sunlight bathed the stone buildings in gold, warming the stone walls and cobbled paths that wound between forge halls and workshops. Outside the modest inn where the elven party had taken residence, nestled in the backyard beside a patch of dry grass and worn crates, stood the fruit of many trials: a six-wheeled carriage, fire-mana powered, semi-automagic, and freshly assembled after an embarrassing number of failed prototypes.
Its final form stood proud. Three segments: an open driver's bench at the front with a detachable canopy, currently dismounted to enjoy the cloudless sky; a closed central cabin for comfort, snacks, and serious girl discussions; and an open rear wagon with a removable roof as well, left bare for now to welcome sun and wind. The wheels were thick and rugged, suited for rough terrain between mountains and forests. Magic circuits hummed faintly beneath the chassis, quiet but alive.
Inside the central cabin, Fahleena sat cross-legged, her twin-tailed pink hair bouncing every time she shifted. Swatches of colorful cloth spilled around her, glittering threads tangled like vines in her lap. Needles, buttons, and shiny embellishments were scattered like confetti. She worked diligently on her latest obsession, battle flags.
Fahleena hummed a vaguely heroic theme tune to herself as she finished stitching the final emblem onto a vivid indigo background. Her fingers moved quickly, pausing only for dramatic flair as she inspected each stitch. "Perfection," she whispered to herself.
A knock interrupted her internal fanfare. Gabyola's calm voice followed, muffled by the wooden carriage door. "Fahleena, I'm coming in. If you're... between outfits, please speak now."
The door creaked open slowly. Gabyola peeked inside with the practiced caution of someone who had previously walked in on Fahleena's "costume changes." No dramatic nudity greeted her this time, just Fahleena proudly raising a newly completed flag.
"Behold!" Fahleena declared, her eyes sparkling. "The Crest of Eternal Fortune and Destiny!"
The flag shimmered with a golden keyblade design crossed against a stylized mana tree. Stars and sparkles embroidered around the edge lent it a noble, if mildly exaggerated, aesthetic. Gabyola raised an eyebrow but nodded gracefully.
"That's... very well made. You've improved," Gabyola said, stepping fully inside.
"I'm a prodigy of thread and glory," Fahleena said, standing to display the flag in full. "The wind shall carry our emblems across the realm!"
Gabyola smiled with a soft exhale, then knelt beside one of the cloth piles. "Come on. Let's show the others. Morning sun's perfect for display."
Fahleena's eyes lit up even brighter, if that were possible. "An open-air exhibition!" she declared.
Together, the two girls began gathering the completed flags, each carefully folded and tucked under their arms. Fahleena carried hers with dramatic flair, cradling them like sacred artifacts. Gabyola, ever the elegant counterbalance, carried hers with the grace of a curator unveiling a gallery piece.
They exited the cabin and stepped into the backyard, where the sunlight fell golden across the packed dirt and uneven stones. Fahleena marched to the side of the carriage, arms outstretched, then theatrically unfurled one banner at a time. Gabyola assisted without comment, attaching each flag to a line they'd improvised from extra rope and a few strategically placed hooks along the carriage's side.
Within moments, a vibrant array of flags rippled in the morning breeze, keyblades, mana trees, odd abstract swirls, and even one with what appeared to be a glitter-drenched duck. Each one unique, stitched with enthusiasm, stitched with chaos.
Fahleena spun on one heel, arms wide. "Behold! The first and only Mobile Banner Gallery of Destiny!"
Gabyola folded her arms and nodded, clearly satisfied. "Not bad at all."
Outside, the others had begun gathering. It was hard to ignore the carriage. Even harder to ignore Fahleena's voice once she started projecting. Kyle arrived first, blue hair already sticking up from morning bedhead. He squinted at the flag Fahleena held aloft.
"That's good," he said slowly. "But... why a keyblade? Wouldn't a sword make more sense?"
Fahleena gasped, as if Kyle had insulted her ancestors. "Because a keyblade is not just a weapon. It is the key to fate, the master of realms, and the herald of victory!"
Kyle blinked. "So... because you like it?"
Fahleena grinned. "Exactly."
Jessica and Sakura approached from the side yard, drawn by the fluttering colors and Fahleena's theatrical presentation. Their eyes immediately scanned the row of banners now hanging proudly along the carriage, each one catching the sunlight with a shimmer of thread and overambitious design. They moved closer, inspecting the flags with mild curiosity, half in awe, half in quiet hope that one might feature a pudding or sweet roll motif.
"No pudding flag?" Jessica asked softly.
Sakura looked hopeful. "Sweet roll?"
"Alas," Fahleena said, "my needlework is for glory, not gastronomy. For actual treats, consult Sir Fuhiken the Pudding Bearer, or, if you dare, Orchid the Culinary Gambler."
Fuhiken entered behind them, carrying a tray with actual food. "If it's sweetness you seek, I brought pudding. Real pudding. Not flag pudding."
From the rear of the cabin, Orchid peeked in with a wide smile and an ominous tray of her own. "And I have bread!" she announced.
The loaf was... greenish, suspiciously so, with uneven bumps along its crust and a faint shimmer that gave it an almost magical glow, though nothing about it felt safe or deliberate. The scent wafting from it was indescribable, somewhere between overcooked herbs and something vaguely metallic. Jessica instinctively took a step back, her expression caught between polite horror and self-preservation, as if her nose had warned her faster than her brain could process what Orchid had dared to call "bread."
"I'll pass," she said, backing away.
Sakura, ever the brave one when it came to food, took a tentative bite. She chewed, paused, then gave a small nod. "It's edible."
Then, as Sakura shifted to adjust her grip, the remaining piece of bread slipped from her fingers, a quiet betrayal. It tumbled through the air in what felt like exaggerated slow motion, turning end over end like a doomed pastry in a tragic tale. All eyes followed its descent. It bounced once against the carriage step with a dull thock, then flopped unceremoniously onto the packed dirt just beyond the wheel. The thud it made was unimpressive, yet oddly foreboding. Silence followed, thick and expectant, as if even the wind was waiting to see what would happen next.
. . . . . . . .
From across the dusty yard, a lone chicken stood near a stack of old barrels, lazily pecking at the ground with no particular aim. Then, its head snapped up. Its tiny, glassy eyes locked onto the mysterious, glimmering bread lying just beyond the carriage wheel. For a moment, it was perfectly still, then it moved. With sudden purpose and alarming speed, the chicken launched itself forward, claws kicking up small clouds of dust. A visible swirl of wind burst around its feet as it dashed ahead in a blur, moving with a velocity that should have been physically impossible for poultry. It closed the distance in a blink, snatched the bread chunk in its beak, and tore off a piece in one bite.
The effect was instant.
The chicken froze mid-chew, eyes wide. Then, without warning, it let out a high-pitched cluck and began sprinting in frenzied circles. Wings flapped, feathers flew, and its movements became a tornado of panic. After several dizzying laps around the same tree stump, it finally dropped to the ground with its legs in the air, completely motionless except for a faint twitch in one claw.
Silence lingered only briefly.
Three more chickens, having witnessed the entire scene, waddled over with the kind of curiosity that usually preceded disasters. They approached the fallen bread with synchronized caution, then, as if driven by instinct, each took a bite. The chain reaction began again. One by one, the chickens went berserk: running in erratic circles, flapping wildly, clucking like broken instruments, and finally collapsing in perfect, almost choreographed unison. Their bodies landed side-by-side in a neat line, as if rehearsed for comedic timing.
The yard fell silent once more, except for a single drifting feather spiraling to the ground.
"...We should probably not leave Orchid's cooking out," Fuhiken muttered.
"It's got flair," Orchid said proudly.
"It's got consequences," Yuuna said, appearing beside the group with a book in hand.
---
With everyone now assembled, Fuhiken cleared his throat. "Now that the final test run didn't explode, and no one died, it's time to name the carriage."
Kyle jumped in immediately. "Garuda Phoenix IV. I heard that from Yuuna. It sounds amazing."
Orchid's eyes lit up. "Garuda! Like a bird? Is it on fire?"
Yuuna esplains that name. "It's a battle toy from,,, a different world, maybe. its a Crush Gear. They were spinning vehicles that clashed in dramatic arenas, full of explosions, impossible physics, and an overwhelming amount of pride and fighting spirit. The rules barely made sense, but the passion was real."
Fahleena raised her hand with practiced drama. "Then I propose: Divine Stormrider Carriage of the Celestial Wanderers!"
Jessica winced. "That won't fit on a map."
"I vote for Sweet Roll Express," Sakura said, patting her stomach.
Yuuna looked up from her book with a straight face. "Accurate. It reflects both our travel method and Sakura's emergency food reserves."
"Magnificent Explosivus Supreme," Gigih added, raising both hands as if casting a spell.
Gabyola sighed softly, arms crossed. "Please don't jinx it, Gigih. We just got this one not to explode."
Adiw looked around. "Why not mix them?"
Yetsan nodded. "I shall let Sinryo decide the mix."
Sinryo rolled his eyes and started muttering combinations under his breath. "Garuda Express... Stormrider Supreme... IV... okay. Got it." He straightened and declared, "Stormrider Supreme Express IV."
Kyle's mouth opened to object, finger already raised in protest. "Wait, wait, no. Stormrider Supreme Express IV? That's not even close to what I..."
"We voted," Sinryo said, already stretching out on a crate.
"No we didn't!" Kyle protested. "That wasn't a vote, that was a group shrug followed by peer pressure!"
"I approve it," Gabyola offered helpfully.
"I was mid-bite but emotionally agreed," Sakura added between chews.
"Majority consensus by momentum," Yuuna said without looking up from her book.
Fahleena struck a pose. "The name sings of destiny."
Gigih twirled his finger in the air. "It has explosive energy."
"I liked mine better," Kyle muttered.
"Stormrider Supreme Express IV it is!" Fuhiken announced, entirely ignoring him.
And so, the name was decided.
---
As the last gear was secured and the magic circuits checked, the party made final preparations. Fuhiken climbed up to the open front bench, Yetsan joining him as co-driver. The canopy for the front section was folded and strapped at the back, sunshine too good to waste. Behind them, the closed cabin gently rocked as the girls settled inside with snacks, cushions, and plenty of space to stretch. In the rear wagon, Kyle lounged with Adiw, Sinryo, and Gigih. The lack of roof meant more breeze and better views, and potential surprise chicken attacks, but no one voiced that.
Kyle pouted. "I still think I should drive."
"No," Gigih said without looking up from his spellbook. "You've caused too many explosions."
"One," Kyle argued. "Maybe two. Okay, three. But it wasn't my rock that hit Carriage III."
"Still no," Fuhiken called from the front.
The carriage creaked once, then began to roll, magic-infused wheels humming against the stone. As they approached the city gate, the dwarven guards waved them off with tired but amused expressions. Fuhiken gave a formal farewell.
"We'll visit again. Maybe not with explosions next time."
"No promises," Sinryo said under his breath.
The gates opened, and the Stormrider Supreme Express IV rolled into the morning light.
Sunlight caught the flag Fahleena had mounted to the roof beam, her keyblade emblem flapping proudly in the wind. The trail ahead led downward through the mountain pass, then curved toward the highland and beyond that, the forest of Etheria, their home.
The trail ahead wound downward through the mountain pass, curving gently toward the lush expanse of the Etheria forest, the land of elves, their birthplace, their home.
Kyle sat at the back of the wagon, arms folded, frowning at the treetops in the distance. "Do we really have to go home? That sounds... boring. We just built an epic carriage. Shouldn't we be heading somewhere dangerous?"
Yuuna, seated in the shaded cabin with a book open on her lap, replied without looking up, "There are dragons."
Kyle straightened. "Dragons? Where?"
"Not in the forest," Yuuna said, flipping a page. "But someone in the forest might know where they are."
Kyle leaned against the carriage wall, now visibly interested. "Then let's ask. New goal: dragon quest."
Fahleena, never one to miss an opportunity, stuck her head out the window and struck a dramatic pose. "Then let it be written! Our wheels now turn toward secrets untold and wings of ancient flame, upon this path of stars and destiny!"
Nobody objected. By this point, everyone knew better.
Above them, Fahleena's flag, stitched with a radiant keyblade crossed with a mana tree, fluttered proudly atop the carriage roof, catching the breeze like a noble crest. Though home was their heading, a new adventure already stirred just beyond the horizon.
---