Nice Pose

By evening the town had already plunged into gossip. News ran around that Rico, the duck man, had challenged newcomers for the title this year. Laughter and chatter started to fill this ever strange town. Someone chalked a crooked tally on a tavern board: RICO / NEW BLOODS

Someone had already marked the Rico side twice. A crude sketch of a duck waddled beside it, wearing a crown.

Willow stopped in front of it, folding her arms. “Well this is subtle. Not one vote for Bart yet.”

Bart puffed his chest, unfazed. “Let them count us out early. Tomorrow they’ll eat their chalk.” Then he started laughing that strange cowboy laugh of his.

Joren studied the board in silence. He wasn’t sure if it was their destiny to engage in this event. Was fate guiding them to this moment?

The tavern door swung open and light spilled out, thick with smoke and the smell of stewed meat. Voices tumbled over one another inside, all carrying that same note of amusement that had followed them through the square.

Willow muttered under her breath. “Wonderful. We’ve gone from travelers to entertainment in under a day. I don't think it can get any worse...”

Bart turned to her, chest puffed, eyes alight like he was about to deliver a sermon. “Worse? No, Willow, this is better. This is opportunity knocking on our door.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” she shot back.

Bart ignored her, spinning on his heel to jab a finger at Gus. “Competitions demand a champion and tomorrow, it’ll have to be you.”

Gus froze mid-step. “What?”

Bart leaned in, voice solemn, as if passing down an ancient truth. “You’ve got the arms for it. The shoulders. The glare. You’ll topple duck man like building blocks.”

Gus sputtered, hands raised. “Hold on, me? You’re the one who challenged him!”

“Exactly.” Bart said, nodding gravely.

Willow barked a laugh, clapping Gus on the back hard enough to nearly knock him forward. “Congratulations, champ. You’re our hero now.”

"Oh, not so fast. You all are going to have to participate, that gives us the best odds." He said, pointing to Joren now. "He expects me. But you? You’re the secret weapon. The wolf in the fold. The flexer no one saw coming. I trust that you can bring him down just as much as Gus can."

Gus’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He clearly had no idea what to even say to this voluntold situation.

Willow’s laugh was short and sharp. “Not a chance, Bart. I'm not oiling up and walking down a stage to get gawked at. You three can do it just fine."

Bart clutched his chest as if Willow had just driven a spear through him. “Blasphemy! I knew this turnip would betray us and stick her roots into the ground at some point."

"Damnit Bart, I'm not a turnip." Willow replied, clearly annoyed at the notion for some reason. Bart could do a good job at baiting a reaction from her at times.

“I walk on two legs!” Willow barked. “Last I checked, vegetables don’t do that.”

Gus raised his hands, trying to mediate. “Technically, there’s nothing stopping a turnip from—”

“Not helping, Gus!” Willow cut him off.

Bart tilted his head, stroking his chin like a philosopher. “She argues too much. A true human wouldn’t mind being called a turnip, only a turnip would get defensive.”

Willow’s hands balled into fists. “Call me that again.”

“Turnip.”

Joren sighed through his nose. “Anyways, what do you have planned for the stage, Bart? I'm not sure any of us have done a competition like this before. Not that I want to be a part of it, just pointing that out."

Bart spun, eyes blazing. “The stage is a war, lad! You don’t plan, you dominate. Every pose is a weapon, every flex a cannon shot. Only the best survive.”

Joren ignored him. “Right. But if there are rounds, or… timing, or scoring, maybe we should—”

“Scoring?” Bart scoffed so loudly it echoed off the walls. “There is only victory and shame!”

Willow muttered. “Sounds like shame is the more likely option.”

Joren rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, hypothetically… if I was on stage, I could probably do… I don’t know… a star pose?” He spread his arms stiffly, half-heartedly, like a scarecrow. “You know. Fitting theme.”

What followed was pure silence. Then, Willow burst into laughter so hard she nearly doubled over. Gus tried to stifle his laugh for Joren's sake, but even his slipped out a bit.

Bart, however, gasped as if Joren had just discovered fire. “Brilliance. A pose that calls to the cosmos itself!” He grabbed Joren by the shoulders and shook him. “You’ll blind them with destiny!”

Joren immediately regretted opening his mouth.

The pulley-lines creaked in the evening wind, carrying baskets across the rooftops. The town hadn’t quieted down, but for Joren, everything felt suspended in that single humiliating moment. Tomorrow, somehow, would be worse, or maybe better?

Bart clapped his hands together so loudly it made Willow jump. “Enough talk. We train.”

Gus frowned. “Train? It’s night.”

“Perfect time,” Bart countered, his grin sharp. “The darkness sharpens the spirit. Muscles flex harder when they know the world sleeps.”

"Good luck, boys. I'm going to go book the Inn and find a restaurant for after you are done." Willow called over her shoulder as she began walking away.

Joren exchanged a look with Gus, but before either could protest, Bart was already dragging Gus by the arm into position.

Evening – Outside Somewhere

Bart walked between them like a commander reviewing troops. His expression, for once, was stone cold. “First lesson: you don’t move the muscle, you become the canvas. You pose, and every man who looks at you must believe you’re carved out of marble.”

He thumped Gus’s chest with two fingers. “Too soft. Tense up a bit and hold it. Now breathe from the gut so you don’t break form.”

Gus growled through his teeth. “This feels stupid.”

“Good,” Bart replied. “Stupid is just the first steps to becoming a Genius.”

Joren reluctantly raised his arms as Bart walked over to him.

“Nope.” Bart adjusted him, pushing his wrists higher, tilting his chin skyward. “You're not a scarecrow, you're a constellation. You aren't trying to show off, you’re holding the sky from falling down on the world.”

Joren adjusted to his coaching words and Bart seemed satisfied.

"Very good, now try to imagine the earth is resting on your back and it's super heavy. Put your arms behind you and strain your body as if it's crushing you."

Joren shot him a look like he’d just suggested he juggle anvils. “Imagine the earth? That’s not exactly easy to imagine."

“Then do it anyway.” Bart’s tone was so surefire he really felt like a coach. “A champion does not lift what is easy, he shows the world the impossible through his indomitable human spirit."

“Good!” Bart barked, circling him like a hawk. “Hold! Don’t think of it as pain, think of it as a drama! The sweat dripping, the quiver in your arms, that’s what sells the pose. The people must believe you’ve wrestled the gods and walked away unscathed.”

Then he clapped twice, snapping Joren upright. “Enough! Rest, but remember the feeling. That’s what turns men into myths in this industry.”

Gus gave a tired snort, rolling his shoulders. “Industry? You make it sound like flexing is some kind of trade.”

Bart rounded on him instantly, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It is a trade, you lug. Don't go insulting the art of building one's body and showing it to the world. Now get to working on your poses I taught you!"

Gus grumbled but obeyed.

Joren leaned against the wall, still trying to stretch the ache from his shoulders, but found himself watching those two. There was a strange conviction in Bart’s tone, as if he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.

Joren thought for a minute about what even brough about this challenge. Did they bet something? He couldn't remember them saying something, but he figured it would only make sense to do so. The townspeople talked about Rico like he built this place with his inventions and gadgets, something Bart was looking for. That gave Joren some ideas to ponder.

Bart strode back over to Joren. “You. Star pose again.”

Joren groaned but pushed himself upright, spreading his arms.

Bart adjusted his stance with sharp tugs. “Chin higher. Shoulders back. Imagine the audience as planets in orbit, and you’re the sun. If you falter, the universe collapses.”

“I think my shoulders are already collapsing,” Joren muttered, but he held the pose.

Sweat trickled down Joren’s brow. The longer he held it, the more he realized Bart wasn’t just messing around. He was going to kill these two from exhaustion if he kept this up.

“Again!” Bart barked, clapping his hands like a judge with a gavel. “Reset your stances, both of you! The stage waits for no one."

Later – On the Way to the Inn

Gus looked like he’d aged ten years by the time he was done flexing. His shirt clung to his frame with sweat, his arms trembling every time he moved them. “Snake arms pose,” he muttered bitterly. “Why did I have to do snake arms?”

Bart slapped him on the back hard enough to nearly topple him. “To teach fluidity! A champion must coil, then strike! The audience loves serpents.”

“They’re going to laugh us off stage.” Gus grumbled.

Joren dragged his feet, still stiff from Bart’s endless corrections. His arms ached from holding the star pose, his back from pretending to carry the earth, and his pride from trying the ridiculous “pillar of eternity” stance that had him balancing on one leg until he fell over sideways. “I don’t even think half of those are real poses.” he muttered.

“A true champion forges the path, he doesn't just follow the other greats!” Bart announced with pride, as though history itself would back him. “Innovation is the key to domination. The snake arms, the world-pillar, the screaming sunburst, by tomorrow, the judges will tremble at your creation.”

By the time they staggered up the street, Gus’s arms were limp at his sides, Joren’s shoulders burned, and Bart looked like he’d just led them through a victorious campaign.

Inside the inn, Willow was already seated at a table near the window, a plate of bread and stew halfway gone. She didn’t even glance up when they collapsed into the chairs across from her.

“You all look like death,” she said flatly, tearing another piece of bread.

“Snake… arms…” Gus wheezed, plopping his forehead on the table with a loud thud that shook the silverware.

Joren slumped next to him. “Pillar of eternity my ass..."

Willow arched an eyebrow, finally giving them the faintest, devilish smile. “So what you’re saying is… you will blow away that duck guy on the stage?"

Bart dropped into his seat, still grinning ear to ear. “What you missed was history in the making. Tomorrow, the world will remember the night we forged legends.”

Willow chewed slowly, then shrugged, laughing a bit. “Or they’ll just remember you three looking like idiots. Either way, it should be entertaining. I can't wait to watch from the crowd.”