He feels normal

Domic holds Izabel tightly. He's always enjoyed hugging his sister. "I'll always protect you, Izabel," he promises to himself. They pull apart, still holding on to each other. Her oval, sand-colored face and dark blue eyes stare back at him.

"Oh! Domic, you're finally taller than me," she chuckles, smiling sweetly. She moves a hand from the top of her head to a little bit below the top of his. "By a little bit," she says, cupping the side of his face. "I guess that means you're a man now."

"A man? A man...," he thinks, bashfully looking down to the floor.

"I love you," she says, kindly.

"I love you too, Izabel," he replies, eyes snapping back up to look into hers.

"Now go," she says, as they release. She brushes some lint off his tunic. "Or else you'll be late."

Domic grabs his gear and with a final wave to Izabel goodbye, walks out the door, towards the town's guard commandery. He walks down Pael's cobblestone streets, echoes of a richer and more vibrant past, before the collapse of the empire. Old houses hem each other in, with the occasional odd shop or eatery on ground level. Most businesses are located in the market quarter in the southern end of Pael, catering to the roughhewn farmers and woodsmen living deeper in the forest, or to the pompous southern merchants who come north for the furs and rare lumber and run back south twice as fast. The commandery sits in the center, one of the few squat stone buildings in the town.