Gevrand
6:00
The first thing to be done after being awoken by the crowing of a rooster outside my window- I stick my head into the room next door and embed a knife into the headrest, just inches above the sleeping person in bed and leave promptly before the swearing can begin.
I close the door seconds before a wave of profanity explodes, muffled by the barrier. Whatever said is emphasized by the rattling and thumping of various daggers being thrown with deadly accuracy against the door, some embedding themselves deep into the wood and others clattering to the floor. Give or take another week and it would be yet again time to replace the door.
Although it never consumed me, vanity was a significant factor of my mornings. I diligently splash water onto my face before drying off with a supplied cloth. The maid should have replaced the shampoo Lyle used with my own special mix. She would probably replace it later for him.
It takes a whole thirty minutes, and when I leave the bath completely refreshed and ready to take on the day, Lyle is only just stumbling in with his usual early morning attitude and a dagger to return. It sails by, narrowly missing out on my ear, and falls to the floor with a clatter that causes his scowl to deepen. Silently, I applaud his accuracy, even in the morning, but he passes by without a word.
The maid passes by with a vial of shampoo in hand and exits with another.
7:00
Early breakfast in the northern wing of the castle. Today was a plain and simple meal of hotcakes and ham, with a side of coffee. I know it will be another ten or so minutes before Lyle joins me, but nevertheless, I begin without hesitation.
When he finally plops himself down in the chair across from mine, I lay out today's planned schedule. It is carefully and meticulously planned the night before, and yet, only the morning up till noon is filled, and then the evenings. The large gap of time in between is left for war. He's nodding and mumbling half-hearted responses, so I sigh and put my folder away. Yet again, it was up to me to keep our day in order.
When we are done, we head downstairs.
8:00
By now, Lyle is in much higher spirits, even though it is time for yet another war meeting with the 'respected' citizens of Runewall.
I stand there visibly uncomfortable. Why is he smiling so much?
Within a minute into the meeting, the nobles are showing strange agitation. One finally spoke up and asked what that strange hissing sound was. Now that he mentioned it… I stopped speaking and for several seconds, we all pause in silence. And then…
Hissssss….
"My new pet. Don't worry, I fed him this morning." This is said with a completely uncharacteristically solemn face on Lyle's part. Another hiss punctuates the silence after he finishes.
I stare dumbfounded as the nobles erupt in cacophony, rushing and pushing past one another and myself in their hurry to flee the room as a large anaconda, perhaps the size of a very thick tree branch, slides out from beneath a chair and hisses in annoyance while my brother breaks his façade and howls with laughter.
I make a mental note to… persuade… Lyle to release the confused reptile later.
8:20
"For the last time, it's not like they actually give a damn about the war!" Lyle insists as I tap my folder against the table. One of his hands is gingerly nursing his recently abused ear, courtesy of yours truly. Clearly, my annoyance showed- such a rare occurrence, that it seemed to be intimidating Lyle. "They just want an excuse to force me to abdicate or something!"
It was true and there was little I could say to counter that, but nevertheless, I take out my now ruined schedule yet again with a huff of exasperation. We now found ourselves with forty minutes of excess time- so I suggested we return to the throne room so our meeting with the general populace could begin earlier than usual.
He takes the suggestion with a smirk and a nod. Conversing with his soldiers is infinitely better than putting up with the thinly-veiled scorn and hidden agenda of nobles.
11:00
Perhaps nothing cheers us up more than our dedicated soldiers coming in just for a simple conversation. As usual, Lyle is up to his antics- whether it serves to entertain him or just to lighten the mood, I sigh a little.
I've been sighing quite a lot lately…
"Man, over 500 rings! You're not planning to use them all, are you?" His unfortunate victim this time is a solemn-eyed scout who seems to be suppressing a smile of his own. "Feeling like sharing some?"
Startled out of my reverie, I move in to rebuke him. "Lyle! What are you-?"
I'm certain my panic must have shown. Lyle bursts out laughing, choking out an "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"
"…He just wanted to see you flip out." The soldier pitches in quietly, and Lyle slaps him heartily on the back. The emperor and his soldier share a brief laugh, but it is enough to make me sigh once more, yet smile as well.
"777 rings…" Lyle muses out loud later as another soldier waves farewell.
I blinked. "What is it, Lyle?"
"That kid from earlier had 777 rings." He repeats himself, a faraway look in his eyes as he shifts slightly in the throne. "It's a holy number for crystal devotees. Mom used to talk about that number quite a lot before she… well..." He trails off.
It is one of these moments when I remember that we have missed a great deal of each other's lives. These moments are rare but melancholic, and I know, in some way, Lyle misses his old life, when things were still simple.
But neither of us regrets stepping into this new light, even if it scalds and burns us with its corruptive influence.
"Perhaps… you hold this number within yourself, Lyle."
He doesn't answer, but something in his expression tells me he is vaguely pleased by my comment.
12:00
Lunch is a boisterous affair, and several castle guards drop in to join us. Neither of us minded the extra company, after all, the rest of the royal family wants little to do with the wayward prince and the robber emperor.
Nevertheless, the meal is served and passed all around the table, and I watch our drinks warily. Although we are among friends, the nature of betrayal causes it to stay a constant possibility.
Several soldiers wander in and out. Several of them are chatting amicably among their friends and fellow corps members. It is certainly hard to believe that these people are out in the field every day fighting on our behalf. So many look like children… certainly my brother and I were hardly old at all (28 and 22 respectively) but these soldiers… some of them had just left the academy. Others had learned by serving at the garrison. Nevertheless, many of them are still quite young and already shaking hands with death daily.
Regrets are silly things to have in wars- but they are not things we can easily deny.
1:00
I look all over the castle for my missing brother, cursing my absentmindedness. Of course, he would take advantage of the clamor of lunch and my wandering mind to up and disappear from the castle- and perhaps the capital. Such was his talent. My schedule is screaming at me, and I retort mentally, never mind the irrationality of arguing with a scrap of paper.
There is nothing to be done until Lyle is found again.
2:00
There is a report from the battle currently going on at Wednesday Battleground. How in King Ecetia's name did he get there from Runewall so quickly?
3:00
The battle is still raging as our army tries desperately to defend the Obelisks that claim our territory. It is impossible to find anyone in this chaotic fight, and I resign myself to joining the ranks of soldiers in pushing northwards toward the enemy keep. The soldiers are surprised to see their former crown prince in the midst of war. Many more seem trained on my movements, as if wondering what I was capable of.
My daggers are heavy in my hands. I can't truly say I've missed holding them. I was hardly like Lyle, who toyed with his weaponry even as he conversed with his soldiers. It occurs to me I should have noticed the lack of the dagger and crown embedded in the throne. Unfortunately, that particular detail had escaped me and by the time the guards and I had realized Lyle was nowhere to be found… well, of course, he was nowhere to be found. And in this situation, there was hardly any time to be spent looking for him while fighting at the same time. It is risky- I can't die here. Nor Lyle. Who knows what would happen to Gevrandia if either of us were to be felled?
It wasn't his skill I was questioning, after all, it was just another thing he overshadowed me in. Although I couldn't honestly say I was surprised. No amount of regular training can match up to the training of the streets. Perhaps, learning from an expert had put me ahead in my methods, but in intent, battle experience, and practicality, he had me outstripped in every way.
I cut my path across the field, averting my eyes from the red that washes down the tips of my blades to the thirsty, barren ground below. A flower drinks up the blood, seconds before it is trampled by an ally soldier.
My hands are filthy.
3:30
Soreness creeps across my arms like a pair of weights dragging me down. The morale of our soldiers is low, but that of our enemies is even lower. We have overtaken much of the southern peninsula of the battleground, and our initial push had yielded much territory and success.
In the midst of the war, I caught a flash of white, and a red cape fluttering like a flag- just in time to see Lyle's suicidal act of the day.
He is alone in the midst of enemy lines (not again), and they are in utter chaos and surprise at seeing a ruler in battle. One man quickly regains his wits and swings. As the axe of the enemy soldier descends upon his head, he strikes upwards with one dagger (move you idiot!), barely catching and halting the severely heavier weapon only centimeters above his hair, and then promptly uses the other to smash through the enemy's arm, rendering it useless. As the man howls and swings a fist at my brother, he ducks and weaves out of harm's way, retaliating with a swift kick- the point of his talon-like armor piercing into the man's breastplate, knocking him back and exposing his throat for one decisive moment. It is over (breath, Kei). The soldiers behind me erupt into mad cheering and surge forth to help their leader. The enemy scrambles to fall back.
Lyle kicks the body away, but not before giving the fallen soldier a brief nod. One of the many daggers strapped to his thigh somehow finds its way into his hand and then deep into the throat of a casting sorcerer. Then he turns and tears into the scout approaching him from behind.
5:00
Victory. A cheer ripples across the field, as the enemy's keep is felled, crumbling to the earth in a massive roar of dust and debris.
My throat is dry and parched, and my arms are heartily demonstrating their displeasure at having been overexerted. I was never trained for battle, merely for self-defense. Lyle catches me as I stumble into the shade and offers me a canteen he managed to swipe from the supplies while uncapping his own and taking a long swig from it. It is strong and smells of alcohol. Most likely beer from some bar downtown. Thankfully, he recalled my low tolerance, and my canteen was filled with nothing but fresh water.
After the army catches its breath and prepares for the long trek back to the capital, Lyle extends his arm and I take it thankfully, staggering to my feet.
It's time to go home.
7:00
I stumble blindly into the bath with a heavy sigh. The first order of business after I had returned to the castle, had been to strip and cleanse myself of blood that was not mine. Lyle was following suite nearby, unbolting his armor and tossing it carelessly into a basin the maid had prepared. I held up my own clothing with a mild look of disgust. White stained. Enviously, I peered over my shoulder to see Lyle. Black didn't.
As I headed to the showers, I saw him in fresh clothing sprawled across a chair, sound asleep.
I was pleased to find that my special shampoo was still present, and I sank into the hot bath with a sigh of contentment while my soreness melted away with my heavy thoughts, just as how the blood from my person swirled down the drain like waste water.
Afterwards, refreshed and light of thoughts once again, I return to my room to begin vigorously planning tomorrow's doomed schedule. It was a futile attempt at organization, but it was a game to see how closely I could hope to follow it with my wildcard brother in the equation.
8:00
"Keiiii! Keeeeeeiiiii! What the hell did you put in your shampoo!"
I look up from my schedule- so far, only to ten o'clock in the morning- in time to see my door flung open, and Lyle clutching a towel around his waist making puddles outside my door, but I was not concerned at all about those two factors.
Namely, my attention was focused on his normally straight, silky hair- 'normally', being the key word. Now, each and every strand seemed determined to stand at attention, each ending with a slight bouncy curl, much like mine.
Lyle did not seem to share my amused sentiments, and seemed closer to annoyance than the laughter I was determinedly stifling.
Without betraying my thoughts, I smiled. "I would not have chosen to be born to any other nation."
He narrows his eyes, still trying unsuccessfully to beat his hair down to its usual fashion. "What are you going on about now? And just give it to me straight!"
With a fluttering laugh, I quickly send for the maid to clear up the water now pooling generously into my room. The source of the flow is still busy keeping a towel up with one hand while fighting with his hair with the other. I repeat myself. "There is no place I would have rather been born in than here."
Lyle huffs, but there is no more annoyance. "Of course. And once we're through with this, it'll be the place everyone will live in." But he understands, of course, and smirks. It is the same sort of smile he gave me that day I had proposed that he become emperor in my stead. It was the ultimate irony- the prank that was played on the entirety of the upper class and royal family, when the crown prince had abdicated in favor of his father's bastard.
I laugh again as he stalks off, muttering about hair and shampoo all over again. Such men of vanity we are. I look down at the schedule yet again and decide that perhaps I should simply chance one day without the game, the constraints, and the panic. The folder is closed and I take my candle and blow it out with a light breath.
This evening, I am at peace.