Just a little short story from the days of the Royal Zephyr Knights I made as a birthday gift to myself. Enjoy!

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The massive Zephyrite turned about as he looked at himself in the mirror. His face flushed red as he grabbed his belt, which was hidden underneath his massive belly, and hefted it up and down to watch his soft flesh jiggle in a way that mocked gravity. He frowned as he grabbed the bottom of his belly to feel it's softness, which made him frown even deeper as he felt the softness of his second chin against his collarbone and bushy beard. It was times like this that he was grateful that his beard hid his jawline.

“Damn it to hell,” the Zephyrite cursed through his teeth. “I've gotten so much fatter since becoming one of the king's knights. How has he not ordered me to go on an exercise routine?” Then, as if on cue, his stomach growled out, demanding to be fed. He cursed himself again as the pangs of hunger seized him. Indeed it was his own fault that he was so big, but he found himself conflicted about wanting to do something about it. In truth, all he wanted was to live comfortably and peacefully, but that was a hard dream to fulfill when he was a knight of the king. He shrugged as he left his quarters and headed towards the mess hall.

As he sauntered through the halls of the Zephyr Crystal Castle, he frowned like a thundercloud as he felt his belly jiggle with each step. He occasionally adjusted his belt, struggling to find some semblance of comfort with how tight it was feeling as of late. He didn't want to ask for a larger belt. His pride as a knight refused to let him do so. Instead, he tried to keep up appearances by sucking in his gut as best as he could whenever someone greeted him. However, most of the soldiers and subjects knew him well, leaving his efforts mostly pointless. He eventually gave up on the farce of his physical appearance and just kept walking forward… only to hear the voice of one particular knight.

“Oi! Grampa Odin!” another Zephyrite called out, causing the elder Zephyrite to turn around in irritation. It was none other than R'Shal, one of the higher ranking knights and one who was ready to crack a joke at the drop of a hat. He cringed as he felt him slapped his back and wrapped his arm around him. “So what's shaking… aside from that bowl full of jelly?”

“Grrrrrgh,” Odin growled, wanting so desperately to punch him in the face. He wondered how Goliath dealt with him. “You should know how I'm feeling. Overweight, underpaid, and fed up with all the idiots we employ in our ranks!”

“So… normal. Got it!” R'Shal replied with a laugh, continuing despite the obvious indication that Odin wanted to be left alone. “Let me guess, you're heading out to breakfast, right?”

“And you want to hang out with me since Goliath is currently training the new recruits, right?”

“GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! How'd you figure me out?”

“I can read you like a book, fool,” Odin retorted bitterly, picking up his pace as the two reached the mess hall. He quickly walked up to the chef to make his order, only to visibly cringe as he felt his belly touch the cold metal of the counter where his tray laid.

“Good morning, Sir Odin!” the chef greeted with a toothy grin. “Are you ready for the day?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Odin replied flatly, just wanting to get his breakfast, eat, and be done. However, the chef grinned deviously as a stray thought passed his mind.

“By the way, good sir,” the chef began, readying his spatula to serve the obese knight. “How's the king's prescribed diet been treating you?” Odin growled as soon as he was reminded of the apparent “joke” the king made at the expense of his knight.

“I'll have a stack of… rrrrgh, six strawberry pancakes with buttermilk syrup, four sausage links, cheesy scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, a… grrrh, large chocolate chip muffin, and a pint of orange juice to wash it all down…”

“Gawd dayum!” R'Shal shouted mockingly, patting Odin on the back jollyfully. “I can feel my belt tightening just from hearing that! Is that all?!” Odin paid no attention as he watched in disgust as his tray was loaded with article upon article of food. Apparently the joke was that Odin had a sweet cake addiction that was the prime cause of his weight gain initially and that if he wasn't careful, he'd end up like the king. Unfortunately, the king caught wind of this and placed him on a “special diet” as a “take that” against the knights. Naturally, Odin's weight skyrocketed as a result, which shocked the elder Zephyrite. Not helping matters was that his age was finally catching up with him. As the days went by and the pounds piled on, he was reminded more and more that he wasn't a young Zephyrite anymore. Odin grabbed his loaded tray and walked over to a nearby bench, with R'Shal hopping right behind him as he quickly grabbed his breakfast of eggs, french toast and milk coffee.

“I don't know why I put up with this farce! Do you all just enjoy watching me suffer?!” R'Shal sat down beside him, still smiling like a dork.

“Hey, I didn't think His Majesty would be so passive aggressive when it came to a joke at his expense. Besides, with Goliath and Tiarah busy with training the new recruits and the other knights constantly on assignments, that just leaves you and me to represent the face of the Royal Zephyr Knights! One of us has to make the other look good! After all…” R'Shal paused as he watched Odin comically stuff himself into the seat of the bench. “...you can't say that you don't enjoy it, Grampa Odin. His Majesty's bad habits are slowly rubbing off on you!”

“I hate you so much right now,” Odin grumbled as he began his breakfast, desperately trying to drown out R'Shal's nonsense as he tried to strike up a conversation. R'Shal talked about the usual subjects: his latest attempts to grab a mate, the glory of his last mission, and the occasional jab at Odin's expanding waistline. He kept eating away at his breakfast, not noticing how his belly was filling up with the fatty goodness. Yet for as much as he gripped about his weight, Odin couldn't deny that it certainly felt good to sate his hunger. To really hit the spot. It seemed that was a common trait amongst a few select Zephyrite males: they REALLY loved to eat. Which would be fine if it weren't for the nature of his position. As a knight, he must be in top form so he could be ready to protect his kingdom, but that would be difficult if he was pinned down by the massive ball sitting on his midsectiom. He was only brought back to reality when R'Shal smacked him on the back as he chugged away at his orange juice, nearly choking him.

“Say, what are you going to do when the prince is born?” R'Shal casually asked. Odin did a double take upon hearing that. Why bring that up at a time like this?

“Why ask me?” Odin replied, finishing up the last of his pancakes and sausages. “Whatever the king says we do when the prince is born, we obey.”

“That's not what I mean,” R'Shal retorted. “I'm asking if you're planning to retire once the prince is born.” Odin hesitated to answer. For all of his pride, he couldn't deny that he was growing old… amongst other things. The thought of retiring certainly sounded appealing, but it was impossible due to one thing.

“It's not like I can if I wanted to. There aren't any other candidates to replace any of the Royal Zephyr Knights, so I'll stuck on active duty until my dying day. Or until I'm killed, either by the sword or by a heart attack from all this grease. Whichever comes first.”

“Nonsense! You have years of glorious combat and life ahead of you!” R'Shal replied happily, which earned a resigned sigh from the elder Zephyrite.

“Ugh… that's one thing to look forward to,” Odin said as rolled his eyes. More than anything, Odin wanted to retire and live his life like he wanted. Just laying back in relaxation and munching on his precious sweet cakes. It was a glorious dream that he entertained in his spare moments. But he knew that as long as he lived, unless he was relieved of his duties, he would remain as a knight under both the king and the son to be born prince. R'Shal rose from his seat as he finished his breakfast, leaving his elder with some choice words.

“Well, whatever you do, just know that the Will of Zephyr will always be guiding you,” R'Shal said, attempting to comfort the old Zephyrite which earned a chuckle from the latter.

“That goes without saying, young fool,” Odin replied, chugging down the rest of his orange juice and ending with a heavy sigh. Then, again on cue, he let out a massive belch that caught the attention of quite a few soldiers. His face flushed red in embarrassment, but he was greeted with claps and cheers by the young recruits who looked up to him. The thought of his gluttony being a source of praise made him sick, not helped by the realization of his “special diet” being mandatory. “His Majesty is going to make me maintain this diet even when his son is born, isn't he?” Then, a large sweet cake glazed in honey and topped with whipped cream and strawberries graced his presence. He looked up and saw the grinning face of the chef who served him.

“Do you really have to ask?” the chef asked rhetorically, which earned a shrug from the obese elder Zephyrite.

“Damn it to everlasting hell…”