Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
An attempt to re-familiarize myself with a project I haven't written on in months.
Arlen stood in front of the dinner chambers, trying like hell to remember what his father had told him over the years about what it was like to command. Bearing. Purpose. Consideration. From the first day the young Crown Prince was told he would be King someday, he wondered what it was going to be like. As he grew, his curiosity evolved into concern over embarrassing himself, his family, and his entire nation, but his father had always been there with a wise word or some self-deprecating story that made him feel better. He looked to his left, almost thinking for a second he could turn and ask his father for advice one last time...
"Sir?" Gareth, his assistant said quietly, returning his glance with a questioning stare. "Is everything alright?"
The younger man knew Gareth was far too perceptive to read his hesitation for anything other than what it really was. His assistant had already been a seasoned veteran of the mansion's politics before his father had taken the throne, and now he would continue to serve a different King. Despite this fact, Arlen replied with a reflexive, "It's nothing, Gareth," and then adjusted his tie. On the other side of that door sat several of the most powerful men in Cormagh, and one man who could completely topple his rule before it even began if he was allowed to do so.
"I wish like mad my sister was here," was the only bit of truth he allowed himself to voice quietly before drawing himself up again. Bearing. Purpose. Consideration. The new King pushed open the door...
----
Brenna sat next to the bed in her father's room, reading quietly from an old text she had found on the shelf. She hadn't even bothered to read the spine before selecting it - she had simply wanted something to distract herself during what she knew would be a vigil over her father's deathbed. The former King's breath was hardly a whisper now, and the young woman turned to look at her father for a moment.
The door opened, and her brother looked as if he was trying to sneak into the room. Amadan, her youngest sibling, gave her a guilty look as he shuffled in quietly. "How is he?" he asked as he walked to the opposite side of the bed.
Brenna smiled weakly as she regarded her brother. "He's peaceful," she said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Amadan shrugged and sat on the floor, leaning his back and head against the wall. "I didn't know where else to go, honestly. Arlen and Dakkon are too busy to yell at me, Caelin is nowhere to pick a fight with... I'm only ever in this place when I'm in trouble."
"Well," the woman said, turning back to her book, "I suppose we have a fair amount of trouble coming our way soon enough."
Her brother nodded and reached into his shirt for a cigarette.Brenna gave him a frown and he snatched his hand out of his pocket as if he had been burned. "Sorry," he said, lowering his eyes. "I just... I'm so stupid, you know? Arlen and Dak, they tried to warn me that things like this would happen, but I never listened, and now..." his voice trailed off into a sigh. After a moment's pause, he asked, "What're you reading?"
Brenna turned the book to look at the cover. "One of father's old books. It says 'Rowing the Isle' as the title, but I'm not really reading it."
"I remember that one," her brother said, smirking to himself. "It's a good story."
"What's it about?"
"A guy gets exiled from his town because he didn't avenge a death in the family, so he gets in a small boat and rows off to find a place to live out his life. Eventually, he finds one island after another where he runs into all sorts of creatures and talking animals and things made of fire and whatnot. It's a spiritual journey sort of thing."
Brenna nodded, looking at the book. "I remember mother reading it to you...," she said and quickly stopped herself.
Amadan waved off the slip, "Yeah," he said, "the funny part is that it ends with him finally finding the killer and returning home, only to learn the rest of his family died while he was off in the spirit world. I don't really think you should be reading it."
His sister put the book down and looked directly at her father. "No, I think it's appropriate. The story is about how sometimes you have to lose one thing to gain another."
----
Dakkon brought his sword down in a wild arc, obviously meant to put his opponent on the defensive more than actually attempt to strike them. His brother, Caelin, simply sidestepped the attack and lunged at his side, where the blade connected with Dakkon's offhand dagger. The older brother found himself on the defensive as Caelin pressed the attack, taking a more elegant approach to the aggressive tactic that had just been used on him. With a flurry of strikes, Caelin forced his brother towards the edge of the mat.
"You've gotten faster," Dakkon said, binding his brother's sword with a cross of his two weapons, stepping inside his reach, and slamming his shoulder into his brother.
Caelin managed to hold his sword and dagger - but only barely - as the wind was knocked out of him and he staggered backwards. His eyes never left his brother, though, and Dakkon's attempt to exploit his advantage proved useless as the younger man rolled on the floor and rose to face him. All the while, Caelin didn't even grimace or narrow his eyes.
Dakkon knew that his brother's impassive demeanor was possibly the largest advantage Caelin brought to a match. Even after all of these years practicing together, the older sibling had trouble not getting unnerved by how unaffacted his brother would be from body blows or even the odd accident with a sword.
"I've been practicing, Dakkon, preparing," Caelin said in an even tone as he put his sword arm behind him and advanced with the dagger leading. He feinted twice, testing his brother's reach, and then swung his sword out from behind him in a quick motion. "Do you remember what father taught us?"
Dakkon blinked, taken aback by the callous way his brother invoked their father, and was rewarded with a slash across his arm. "Caelin, what..."
His brother kept attacking, causing Dakkon to stumble backwards until Caelin's sword tip was resting gently against his heart. "Are you alright, Dakkon?" the younger brother asked, genuinely curious.
"I... damnit Caelin, you can't just bring father up like that and not expect a reaction out of me. We should be there."
"But we shouldn't, you even said so yourself. Arlen has practiced for the day he would take control of the family, and we have all prepared for the day father would pass on," his brother replied, as if the statement confused him. "And father is dying. Do you remember what he taught us?"
Dakkon took a deep breath; his brother's nearly inhuman demeanor was wearing on him. "No," he said darkly. "What."
"The difference between practicing and doing is when you pratice, it's just like doing..."
Dakkon looked at his shirt and poked at the newly-formed small hole. "But the doing is never like when you practice." He tossed his swords at his brother and went to get his military dress jacket. "I'm going to that dinner."
Caelin caught the weapons midair and watched his brother go, a rare, thin smile showing for only a moment.
Arlen stood in front of the dinner chambers, trying like hell to remember what his father had told him over the years about what it was like to command. Bearing. Purpose. Consideration. From the first day the young Crown Prince was told he would be King someday, he wondered what it was going to be like. As he grew, his curiosity evolved into concern over embarrassing himself, his family, and his entire nation, but his father had always been there with a wise word or some self-deprecating story that made him feel better. He looked to his left, almost thinking for a second he could turn and ask his father for advice one last time...
"Sir?" Gareth, his assistant said quietly, returning his glance with a questioning stare. "Is everything alright?"
The younger man knew Gareth was far too perceptive to read his hesitation for anything other than what it really was. His assistant had already been a seasoned veteran of the mansion's politics before his father had taken the throne, and now he would continue to serve a different King. Despite this fact, Arlen replied with a reflexive, "It's nothing, Gareth," and then adjusted his tie. On the other side of that door sat several of the most powerful men in Cormagh, and one man who could completely topple his rule before it even began if he was allowed to do so.
"I wish like mad my sister was here," was the only bit of truth he allowed himself to voice quietly before drawing himself up again. Bearing. Purpose. Consideration. The new King pushed open the door...
----
Brenna sat next to the bed in her father's room, reading quietly from an old text she had found on the shelf. She hadn't even bothered to read the spine before selecting it - she had simply wanted something to distract herself during what she knew would be a vigil over her father's deathbed. The former King's breath was hardly a whisper now, and the young woman turned to look at her father for a moment.
The door opened, and her brother looked as if he was trying to sneak into the room. Amadan, her youngest sibling, gave her a guilty look as he shuffled in quietly. "How is he?" he asked as he walked to the opposite side of the bed.
Brenna smiled weakly as she regarded her brother. "He's peaceful," she said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Amadan shrugged and sat on the floor, leaning his back and head against the wall. "I didn't know where else to go, honestly. Arlen and Dakkon are too busy to yell at me, Caelin is nowhere to pick a fight with... I'm only ever in this place when I'm in trouble."
"Well," the woman said, turning back to her book, "I suppose we have a fair amount of trouble coming our way soon enough."
Her brother nodded and reached into his shirt for a cigarette.Brenna gave him a frown and he snatched his hand out of his pocket as if he had been burned. "Sorry," he said, lowering his eyes. "I just... I'm so stupid, you know? Arlen and Dak, they tried to warn me that things like this would happen, but I never listened, and now..." his voice trailed off into a sigh. After a moment's pause, he asked, "What're you reading?"
Brenna turned the book to look at the cover. "One of father's old books. It says 'Rowing the Isle' as the title, but I'm not really reading it."
"I remember that one," her brother said, smirking to himself. "It's a good story."
"What's it about?"
"A guy gets exiled from his town because he didn't avenge a death in the family, so he gets in a small boat and rows off to find a place to live out his life. Eventually, he finds one island after another where he runs into all sorts of creatures and talking animals and things made of fire and whatnot. It's a spiritual journey sort of thing."
Brenna nodded, looking at the book. "I remember mother reading it to you...," she said and quickly stopped herself.
Amadan waved off the slip, "Yeah," he said, "the funny part is that it ends with him finally finding the killer and returning home, only to learn the rest of his family died while he was off in the spirit world. I don't really think you should be reading it."
His sister put the book down and looked directly at her father. "No, I think it's appropriate. The story is about how sometimes you have to lose one thing to gain another."
----
Dakkon brought his sword down in a wild arc, obviously meant to put his opponent on the defensive more than actually attempt to strike them. His brother, Caelin, simply sidestepped the attack and lunged at his side, where the blade connected with Dakkon's offhand dagger. The older brother found himself on the defensive as Caelin pressed the attack, taking a more elegant approach to the aggressive tactic that had just been used on him. With a flurry of strikes, Caelin forced his brother towards the edge of the mat.
"You've gotten faster," Dakkon said, binding his brother's sword with a cross of his two weapons, stepping inside his reach, and slamming his shoulder into his brother.
Caelin managed to hold his sword and dagger - but only barely - as the wind was knocked out of him and he staggered backwards. His eyes never left his brother, though, and Dakkon's attempt to exploit his advantage proved useless as the younger man rolled on the floor and rose to face him. All the while, Caelin didn't even grimace or narrow his eyes.
Dakkon knew that his brother's impassive demeanor was possibly the largest advantage Caelin brought to a match. Even after all of these years practicing together, the older sibling had trouble not getting unnerved by how unaffacted his brother would be from body blows or even the odd accident with a sword.
"I've been practicing, Dakkon, preparing," Caelin said in an even tone as he put his sword arm behind him and advanced with the dagger leading. He feinted twice, testing his brother's reach, and then swung his sword out from behind him in a quick motion. "Do you remember what father taught us?"
Dakkon blinked, taken aback by the callous way his brother invoked their father, and was rewarded with a slash across his arm. "Caelin, what..."
His brother kept attacking, causing Dakkon to stumble backwards until Caelin's sword tip was resting gently against his heart. "Are you alright, Dakkon?" the younger brother asked, genuinely curious.
"I... damnit Caelin, you can't just bring father up like that and not expect a reaction out of me. We should be there."
"But we shouldn't, you even said so yourself. Arlen has practiced for the day he would take control of the family, and we have all prepared for the day father would pass on," his brother replied, as if the statement confused him. "And father is dying. Do you remember what he taught us?"
Dakkon took a deep breath; his brother's nearly inhuman demeanor was wearing on him. "No," he said darkly. "What."
"The difference between practicing and doing is when you pratice, it's just like doing..."
Dakkon looked at his shirt and poked at the newly-formed small hole. "But the doing is never like when you practice." He tossed his swords at his brother and went to get his military dress jacket. "I'm going to that dinner."
Caelin caught the weapons midair and watched his brother go, a rare, thin smile showing for only a moment.