"You filth of Pern!" Maradul shouted, his eyes flashing angrily. "You abominable bastard! You dimglow wherryhead!"
Niessek looked incredibly hurt, having all these insults thrown at him by his brother. Maradul's face was contorted with rage, and Niessek really didn't have any idea what he'd done. Maradul had been perfectly fine earlier that morning, and then Niessek'd had to go speak with his father. When he returned, Maradul was in a temper.
"Maradul, what is your problem?" Niessek asked, frowning and running a hand through his sandy brown hair.
"You know you sniveling little scum!" Maradul shrieked. "What makes Father think that you can run a Hold? You can't run your own life!"
Understanding flooded through Niessek. Of course. Today his father had told him that he, Niessek, would be the Holder of Jinxion Hold. The decision had been a tough one, because Niessek and Maradul were twins, making it difficult to declare one as firstborn. Finally, his father and mother had decided that since Niessek was a few minutes older, he would inherit the Hold. Niessek had accepted, but really he wondered. Maradul would be a much better Lord Holder than him, at least, if he could get his temper in control.
"I didn't ask Father to declare me heir!" Niessek retorted, his own ire being raised. "He decided on his own that I would be a better Lord Holder than you. What's more, he's probably right!"
Maradul gave a bellow of rage. This annoying little pip-squeak, beating out Maradul for succession? Maradul had always thought since a young age that he would be the next Lord Holder of Jinxion, because he was his grandfather's favorite grandson. His grandfather, Jinxion, had started the Hold many Turns ago, and his son, Maradul's father, had inherited it. Things had still looked good for Maradul then—he was much better groomed for the position; he desired the position while Niessek was wishy-washy about making any decisions; he was the right one! Was it his fault that somehow Niessek had managed to worm his way out of the womb first? Maradul dived at his brother, but Niessek nimbly danced away.
"I'd best be going now, Maradul!" he said cheerfully, scampering into the house. Maradul glowered after him.
"Maradul? Please come here, I would like to speak with you." His mother called. Maradul looked around, apprehensive. He wasn't aware that anyone had been watching his tirade against Niessek. He spotted his mother leaning against one of the Hold buildings, smiling at him.
"Yes, Mother?" Maradul asked, sitting down next to her.
"Marrie, you know that I love you dearly," his mother began. "You would make a superb Lord Holder, in my eyes. When your father was making the decision, he agonized. You were clearly the better choice, but Niessek is older, and you know how your father is a stickler for tradition. He decided in the end that, given the right training, Niessek would make a fine Lord Holder. I agreed, of course. What sane person doesn't agree with your father when he makes up his mind? But I'm sure it wouldn't take much to push his mind back to you."
"But how would I do that?" Maradul inquired, frowning.
"Easily," his mother replied, smiling at him. "All rumors get around to your father sooner or later. Rumors are devastating to the Hold structure, if the people believe them. It doesn't even matter if they're true. Think about it, Maradul."
Maradul watched as his mother got up and left, chewing his lip thoughtfully. What his mother said was true—a little rumor about Niessek could seriously damage his chances at succession. His father was no fool and knew that the people would not want a Lord Holder who they could not trust. Decided, Maradul rose and went to speak with some of the holders.