Conrad, like his sister Anthiese, is full of warmth. This is the first thing that everyone notices about him when he first joins their side (that, and what a handsome fellow he is) and it's the most memorable thing therein. From his fiery-colored hair to his warm brown eyes, everything about him gives off a radiant and kind energy. The soft way he speaks, the polite way he carries himself, and the sweet smile he shows others are all things which only work to undo the cold fastenings clasped around the hearts of the battle-worn soldiers around him.
Because, while Conrad has suffered quite a deal early on and while he has grieved for his thought-to-be-dead sister for years, he doesn't show it as well as he ought to, for his whole life had been buried in peace up to this point. Having been brought up by the Sage Halcyon in a deeply forested hamlet, his world quickly morphed from tragedy and royalty and turned into nothing but humble livings and lance training. Much in the same way that Alm of Ram Village had been brought up, Conrad knows (and appreciates) tranquility and secrecy of modest life more than he does the rigorous wear-and-tear of Valentian discord. He knows the pastures, foliage, and stone sanctuaries of his home more than he knows the gilded hallways, courtrooms, and towering thrones of what should be his home. For he is of both Zofian and Rigelian royalty, half-darkness and half-light mixed up into one strange existence of a person, but he knows one half of his world in greater detail than the other.
Although he is born from such darkness, he emanates a light so powerful that it would be near impossible for him to be corrupted by the sorrows typical of his homeland. Although he has cried and upset himself on countless occasions, he has also been the one to heal himself again, to pick up the broken fragments of his heart and gently cement them back together again. Even though he hasn't been fully exposed to the world outside of his village, he prepares himself for its disparity and wreckage—he steels himself for the tough battles he knows he must face, and the terrible decisions he must make in the name of protecting his one and only sister.
Conrad, like his sister Anthiese, is full of warmth. He knows warmth more than he knows the cold, and for someone that had been living in Rigel a majority of his life, that is quite the accomplishment.
.
.
.
Boey and Mae are some of the first members of Celica's army to approach Conrad (other than Celica herself, of course). They hesitate at first, because they fear the mystery that the masked knight carries with him, despite everyone being aware of his true identity. But usually, his voice is like a rolling thundercloud in the midst of battle, one that rises above all else and commands silence from the crowd as he strikes down Rigelian brigands and undead Terrors with the same holy lance. They are used to being awe-inspired in his tall and glorious presence, so to be around him otherwise is new and daunting all the same.
Luckily for the two of them, Conrad is without his mask when they decide to greet him one particular evening. And instead of seeing that familiar image of black and white metal obscuring his face, they are met with a gentle gaze of brown eyes, coupled together with the soft smile that sits on his face so wondrously that it is almost impossible to imagine him with any other expression. Boey hesitates to speak—he is caught off guard by the pleasant aura that surrounds Conrad, and even more so by the lack of domineering confidence that had been expected of the man before.
Mae is braver than him, however, and much more foolhardy as she voices her brash opinions out into the open. "Wow," she gawks. "You really are a different person with the mask off!"
"H-Huh?" Conrad stutters for a moment, smile faltering into some odd shape of confusion and fear. But then that momentary look of helplessness disappears, and the prince's cheeks darken to a slight shade of pink by the time he finds words to reply with. "Oh, yes, the mask...well, as you know, I was instructed by Sage Halcyon to not interfere with Anthiese, so I donned the mask and did my best to act differently than I usually do."
"Mae," Boey hisses her name out between tightened lips, and gives a sharp elbow to her side in a half-joking manner. "Can you please grow some manners? I already told you, you can't talk to Celica's brother like that!" He glances between the reddening face from his friend to the prince's flustered expression, and shoots a sympathetic look in the latter's direction. "My apologies, Conrad. Although I admit that I, too, am surprised by your true nature, I promise that I would never make such embarrassing comments as Mae did just now! Let me also take the time to apologize for her behavior the first time she met you, properly, that is. The first time all of us did such a thing."
"I assure you, it's nothing." The smile returns again, and he looks just as relieved as they do in this very moment. "I apologize if I seemed offended by your statements, whether it was back then or right now. Truth be told, I can be frightened quite easily, so I wasn't expecting such sudden outbursts." At realization of what he just said, Conrad quickly blurts out: "B-But that's not to say that I find you annoying or anything of that sort! Quite the opposite, really! The others have made a point of avoiding me for some reason, so I'm grateful that you would want to approach me first rather than the other way around."
"Hey, relax, buddy," Mae insists. "Jeez, Celica wasn't kidding earlier! You and Boey really would get along! Like, Boey's a stick in the mud so maybe you'll get bored of that, but there's no need to get so worked up. No one's gonna feed you to the Terrors for saying what's on your mind!" She smiles widely, the expression lacking true awareness of the situation around her—the owner of such an expression ignoring the baseless shouts of "Hey!" and "Mae, that's not fair!" from her friend Boey, too.
"I swear, you need to let me do the talking," Boey whines, but quickly bounces back from his agitated behavior. A tiny smile crosses his face as he stares up at Conrad. "But I guess the real reason why we wanted to approach you was just that. Everyone seems so busy with their own happenings that they haven't welcomed you into the fold like proper. So, allow me to properly introduce myself, this time. I'm Boey of Novis Island, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
He doesn't have to nudge or glare at Mae to follow suit, for once, as she picks up on the pleasantries right after him. "And I'm Mae, also from Novis! Nice to meetcha, Conrad!"
"The pleasure is mine, Boey and Mae." He sounds utterly sincere as he says this, shoulders relaxed and eyes aglow with friendship and hope intermingled in one. "I am Conrad of both Zofia and Rigel, and there is no need to put on pleasantries with me. Just 'Conrad' is fine."
The three of them dive into some more fanciful topics—mainly those concerning Conrad's prowess in battle—in cheerful repose. It does not occur to them how much time is spent talking, not until Celica herself comes and summons them all for supper. Mae gushes over her new companion, while Boey recommends some of his favorite books for Conrad to read later on. The prince himself is joined now by his sister, who easily grabs his hand in hers and leads him forward just like she did when they were children. This is new and familiar all at once, and the warmth of love and life bleeds out from Conrad, and spills into the air like the gathering fireflies whose phosphenes of light make spots of color dance in the vision of passing onlookers.
The warmth envelops them all, and supper tastes better than usual.
Conrad smiles.
.
.
.
"Thank you for protecting my sister," he says to Saber one day. They find themselves inside of the armory tent, polishing their weapons in undulating silence before Conrad's voice cuts cleanly and gently through the air. "Although I have also been watching from the shadows, you're the one that's been by her side and guarding her. I really appreciate that."
"That's nothin' to thank me for. I'm just doin' what she paid me to do," Saber insists. His voice is not coated in malice, but rather exasperation at the unnecessary praise. His one eye is fixated on the reflective surface of his blade as he swaths it in the bulk of a cleaning rag. "Once this job is over, I'll be on with the next. So, really, your words are wasted on me."
"Are they?" Conrad wonders aloud. This makes Saber look up from his busying task, and he sends a withering stare in the prince's direction. It takes every ounce of Conrad's willpower to not crumble beneath the intensity of such an expression, yet he can do nothing to suppress the yelp and stutter that escape his mouth all too easily. "Ah, forgive me. I don't mean to impose myself on you, of course. But I really did mean what I said just now. Anthiese means the world to me, and she is partly alive right now because of you. So, regardless, I am very grateful to you, Saber. Don't feel obliged to reciprocate, however. I understand how it is."
Saber opens his mouth to retort, but Conrad is quicker as he stands up to leave, fingers curled around his newly-polished lance—his eyes full of respect and wonder for the other as he gives a lasting goodbye in his direction. "I'll see you later. On the battlefield or somewhere else, hopefully." Then he leaves, with nothing but the sound of his trepid footsteps resonating in the dull ground on the way out.
.
.
.
Conrad, like his sister Anthiese, is full of warmth.
This warmth never dissipates, which sometimes leaves him to simmer quietly in his own emotiveness, or to boil over completely with unexpected (and hidden) anger. But at the end of the day, he accepts things for what they are, and regains the usual sensitivity he is known for having. He sees clearly once more, and finds the resolve to spring forth deeply from his boundless heart.
"I love you," he says to Anthiese one day. He cannot bring himself to call her by her pseudonym Celica, and he is ever so grateful that she does not seem to mind in the least. Of all the soldiers in her makeshift army, Conrad is the only one who calls her by that name. He is the only one that recounts her true name, and it fills him with a sense of pride that theirs is a relationship that no one else can come close to. "I'm so happy I've found you again. This time, I really will do my best to keep you safe. As a brother should do for his sister, and whatnot."
"I love you, too," she agrees, and smiles kindly at him while resting her head on his shoulder. They sit together in some flowery meadow on a hill somewhere, watching the sun disappear into the horizon and turning their sky into something dark and bruise-like—the colors of which bleed and blossom forth like a freshly made wound. But it is not as odious to them as it sounds now, and rather they stare at that scenery with a calm look in their eyes.
"I love you, too. I'm so glad you're here with me. If you keep me safe, then I promise to do the same." A momentary pause, and she stiffens at the intrusive thought that suddenly invades her mind. "Now that I'm older, I'm not so helpless anymore. Those nights where I wondered if I could have saved you, or if Sir Mycen could have found you and we could have escaped into Ram Village together...they kept me up more times than I'd like to admit. And even now, you're right next to me, but I can't help but feel that you might just disappear again…"
"I won't," he murmurs softly, his breath becoming as wispy and warm as the evening air around them. "I won't disappear again. This time, Anthiese, I'm not going anywhere." He squeezes her hand, and finds comfort in the reciprocated force felt between the hesitant movement of her fingers. A low hum resonates in the back of his throat, and he gives a kiss to Anthiese's forehead as he gently reaches over to where she leans on him.
"I'm here, Anthiese. It has taken me a very long time, but I'm finally here."
"Alright, Conrad. Then, I'm also here for you, and this time we don't have to be running away in different directions whilst crying over ourselves. This time, we can face forward together. Doesn't that sound nice? I think it does."
"I think so, too," he agrees, closing his eyes against the fading light and welcoming the darkness surrounding them, as well as the void found in the back of his shut eyelids. "I think, so, too."
Their warmth envelops the entire world, it seems, almost making it into their private haven for the longest and shortest time possible.
Conrad smiles. Anthiese does the same.