Sibling Rivalry: A Spiraling Fates side story
by D. "Mintaka" Peal
Author Note: If you haven't read Spiraling Fates, that's ok, this work can stand on its own mostly, however, if you're reading this, you should also read Spiraling Fates. Why? Because it's worth it? I kid, I kid. Seriously, if you understand Spiraling Fates, you'll know where a lot of this comes from. Also, this contains some spoiler-y stuff/set-ups for 'Fates, so if you wanted to read it, go read it first before this.
That said.
It does and doesn't have bearing on 'Fates, is a tale of Cyril and Ruprecht, set before we actually meet any of the Wise Men in Spiraling Fates - circa Chapter 1~2 or so, maybe just beforehand. This COULD go multi-part, but I doubt it. Still, I'm leaving the chance open. Onto the fic!
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He sat there, adjusting one of the listening devices, fine-tuning it for listening for subtle sounds, to match the other one he had just adjusted. Nearby, his lance leaned against the wall, set there lazily as he had set out to accomplish this task before Indalecio had needed him. He had been warned only yesterday there was a chance he and the rest of the "information trio" - Nicolaus and Jibril - were going to be sent out, and to be ready. In order to do so, he needed to be sharp of hearing, ready to hear the slightest sound. It was more of his specialty, aside the fact that he was also the most personable of the three should they need to actually talk with one of the Expellians.
Indalecio had warned him that Cyril should not know about what was going on - it was none of his elder brother's concerns what Indalecio wished to do. This put him in a dilemma with the two most powerful Wise Men - Indalecio, their leader, whom he would not go against no matter what, and Cyril, his elder brother and second-in-command of sorts, though he often seemed more inclined to his own thing than to actually listen to their leader.
Ruprecht sighed loudly, knowing full-well Cyril was probably looking for him now, as word usually got around the Tower about who had gone to see Indalecio, and speculations why. If his name was involved with their red- headed leader, Cyril was sure to suspect that something was up, or worse, that Ruprecht had done something to get in trouble and that usually brought Cyril's wrath on him as well.
He made the final adjustment, picking up on the faint crackling below and looked down from the balcony he was on to see Decus playing with fire, charring an already overcooked tree. He snorted a bit, dissatisfied with what had happened to this place since they had gotten there - now it was nothing more than a wasteland, devoid of any form of beauty or life. He longed for something better - something like the beauty of Nede.
'Ah, Nede. how I miss its beauty. how did things go so wrong?' he wondered, looking out into the sky above. 'If we had not failed. if we had won, would things be different? Would Cyril be as he is, the incarnation of anger and irritation that he is? Would we be biding our time waiting for something? So many unknowns.' His ears picked up footsteps, and he turned, bringing his lance near him in case of trouble - there was only so much trust, and he needed all the show of power he could muster, being the youngest Wise Man of the ten.
He then registered muttering, a voice, and it was clear who his visitor was - none other than Cyril. His audio was confirmed with visual as Cyril came around the corner, glaring with his one good eye at Ruprecht like he was the foulest thing he had seen. "Here you are. Hiding from Indalecio's lashing, or hiding form me, trying to cover something up?"
"Neither, Cyril," he replied, trying to remain calm despite the ice of the older man's voice. "Taking a moment to relax and enjoy some time outside, doing things I normally do, such as maintain my equipment." He gestured to the lance in his hand, which he had cleaned, polished, and sharpened before settling to the task of adjusting the audio. "If you have a problem-"
"You were with Indalecio, don't lie," Cyril snapped, closing the distance between them to within two feet. Cyril was easily a few inches taller than his younger brother, and had just about every advantage other than pure physical prowess - where Ruprecht excelled in physical combat over magic, Cyril was his opposite, powerful in magic skills with such spells as Wind of Destruction and Evil Gate. Except Cyril was far more resilient to hits then himself, and Ruprecht knew it. A fight here and now would not be good - if Cyril didn't tear him to pieces, Indalecio probably would.
"Brother," he said, emphasizing the point, "so what if I had a word with him? Do you think there's a plot out to kill you or something? It was only a minor, trivial thing."
Cyril narrowed his eyes, his good eye looking over Ruprecht carefully, studying him for any sign, any hint, his words were lies. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing that exchange with me, would you?" He grinned, knowing he was walking his brother into a corner where he would either trip and fall or come clean.
'Damn it Cyril, why are you like this? You never used to do this before.' He swallowed. "He just wanted to talk to me about Jibril, Nicolaus and myself and our positions. A reinforcement sort of thing."
"So you're doing badly?" he retorted, one hand raising slightly, a sign of certain spell casting.
"No, brother," he said, shaking his head. "He just wanted to discuss with me things about our arrangement and possibly changing up how we work is all." Ruprecht knew these words would lead into a question pointedly asking him to lie, and Cyril took that bait.
"So he's sending you out." He said it as a statement, a truth, more than a question, his eyes narrowing further. 'Damn it Indalecio, what do you think you're doing now?'
"No, brother mine," Ruprecht countered, trying his best to sound sincere, "you're wrong. He was discussing possibilities one on one with us. What is so wrong about that?" 'This is getting to close - if Cyril finds out, Indalecio will kill me.'
'What is so wrong. its wrong of him to assume hat I want my own brother going out when he's completely incapable and untested. He's never been out and known the true workings of these. people. He'll do something. I know it. damn it Indalecio, what's your game, and why drag my brother into it?' Cyril shook his head. "What's wrong is it makes no sense."
"Makes as much sense as sitting around here doing nothing," Ruprecht retorted without thought. That he paid for as Cyril slapped him hard across the face, sending his head snapping hard to the right. He raised a hand to the injured spot, feeling the growing heat even through the glove.
"I don't know what Indalecio is doing to you, but you'd best not disrespect me, brother," Cyril snarled. "You ever do that again, and I will rend a limb from you, come hell or Indalecio's wrath. I could care less about him, or any of this over you being so impertinent. Remember your place."
"I do know my place," Ruprecht said, his temper rising. "My place is as one of the Ten Wise Men, following the command of Indalecio. Whether we are family or not, matters little, Cyril - we have jobs. And I think you need to do yours better and stop questioning Indalecio."
"And you, Ruprecht, are being far too blind to the scheme of things - haven't you realized that Indalecio is merely using us?" Cyril leaned back a bit, taking a step back as well to lean against a table they had set out there. "I mean, really, we're doing everything, and he just sits here looking pretty."
'And you do anything useful?' Ruprecht thought. "Ah, but he leads us, brother. He is thinking about what our moves should be, and what we need to worry about."
"Lies," Cyril said, waving his hand. "All lies. There's more that he isn't letting onto, and he's playing us all the fools. Its more than Energy Nede. It has to be."
'And you can do better?' Ruprecht shook his head. "And what of it? Brother, you concern yourself about matters beyond our current place - we are here, stuck on Expel, trying to get to our objective. There's no way we can do more until we reach it."
"Which will be soon," Cyril said, adjusting the glove on his right hand. "Or haven't you heard?"
'What? How. he must be making this up. but then, I thought I heard Vesper say it, and Vesper would know.' "Well, that's good, but we're still here. You need to quit looking so far ahead, you're blinding yourself."
"And you're blinded by your short-sightedness, brother, and it will get you killed." Cyril turned then, walking off. "And you better pray I never find you're lying to me. I will rend the flesh form your bones if you lie to me, ever."
Ruprecht stared after his brother, a mixture of relief and anger filling him. 'How dare he. I bet he thinks I am incapable of thinking and acting for myself. And blind. the only blind one is you, Cyril, blinded by your own ambitions and jealousy. You just wish you'd been the leader. we shall see which of us is the incompetent one when I return with information soon.'
He turned, looking out over the wasteland that surrounded the tower. Closing his eyes, he sighed softly, trying to relax. His cheek still stung quite clearly from the slap Cyril had endowed it with, and he tried his best to ignore it. 'You didn't use to be this way, but lately, its only been downhill. anger, rage, jealous bouts, taking things out on me. what happened, Cyril? What is driving you into this madness that seems to consume you so?' He opened his red eyes, staring out at a distant cloud, towards the western horizon. 'If only it were long before our fall.'
"I can only hope I can prove myself in the coming days."
by D. "Mintaka" Peal
Author Note: If you haven't read Spiraling Fates, that's ok, this work can stand on its own mostly, however, if you're reading this, you should also read Spiraling Fates. Why? Because it's worth it? I kid, I kid. Seriously, if you understand Spiraling Fates, you'll know where a lot of this comes from. Also, this contains some spoiler-y stuff/set-ups for 'Fates, so if you wanted to read it, go read it first before this.
That said.
It does and doesn't have bearing on 'Fates, is a tale of Cyril and Ruprecht, set before we actually meet any of the Wise Men in Spiraling Fates - circa Chapter 1~2 or so, maybe just beforehand. This COULD go multi-part, but I doubt it. Still, I'm leaving the chance open. Onto the fic!
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He sat there, adjusting one of the listening devices, fine-tuning it for listening for subtle sounds, to match the other one he had just adjusted. Nearby, his lance leaned against the wall, set there lazily as he had set out to accomplish this task before Indalecio had needed him. He had been warned only yesterday there was a chance he and the rest of the "information trio" - Nicolaus and Jibril - were going to be sent out, and to be ready. In order to do so, he needed to be sharp of hearing, ready to hear the slightest sound. It was more of his specialty, aside the fact that he was also the most personable of the three should they need to actually talk with one of the Expellians.
Indalecio had warned him that Cyril should not know about what was going on - it was none of his elder brother's concerns what Indalecio wished to do. This put him in a dilemma with the two most powerful Wise Men - Indalecio, their leader, whom he would not go against no matter what, and Cyril, his elder brother and second-in-command of sorts, though he often seemed more inclined to his own thing than to actually listen to their leader.
Ruprecht sighed loudly, knowing full-well Cyril was probably looking for him now, as word usually got around the Tower about who had gone to see Indalecio, and speculations why. If his name was involved with their red- headed leader, Cyril was sure to suspect that something was up, or worse, that Ruprecht had done something to get in trouble and that usually brought Cyril's wrath on him as well.
He made the final adjustment, picking up on the faint crackling below and looked down from the balcony he was on to see Decus playing with fire, charring an already overcooked tree. He snorted a bit, dissatisfied with what had happened to this place since they had gotten there - now it was nothing more than a wasteland, devoid of any form of beauty or life. He longed for something better - something like the beauty of Nede.
'Ah, Nede. how I miss its beauty. how did things go so wrong?' he wondered, looking out into the sky above. 'If we had not failed. if we had won, would things be different? Would Cyril be as he is, the incarnation of anger and irritation that he is? Would we be biding our time waiting for something? So many unknowns.' His ears picked up footsteps, and he turned, bringing his lance near him in case of trouble - there was only so much trust, and he needed all the show of power he could muster, being the youngest Wise Man of the ten.
He then registered muttering, a voice, and it was clear who his visitor was - none other than Cyril. His audio was confirmed with visual as Cyril came around the corner, glaring with his one good eye at Ruprecht like he was the foulest thing he had seen. "Here you are. Hiding from Indalecio's lashing, or hiding form me, trying to cover something up?"
"Neither, Cyril," he replied, trying to remain calm despite the ice of the older man's voice. "Taking a moment to relax and enjoy some time outside, doing things I normally do, such as maintain my equipment." He gestured to the lance in his hand, which he had cleaned, polished, and sharpened before settling to the task of adjusting the audio. "If you have a problem-"
"You were with Indalecio, don't lie," Cyril snapped, closing the distance between them to within two feet. Cyril was easily a few inches taller than his younger brother, and had just about every advantage other than pure physical prowess - where Ruprecht excelled in physical combat over magic, Cyril was his opposite, powerful in magic skills with such spells as Wind of Destruction and Evil Gate. Except Cyril was far more resilient to hits then himself, and Ruprecht knew it. A fight here and now would not be good - if Cyril didn't tear him to pieces, Indalecio probably would.
"Brother," he said, emphasizing the point, "so what if I had a word with him? Do you think there's a plot out to kill you or something? It was only a minor, trivial thing."
Cyril narrowed his eyes, his good eye looking over Ruprecht carefully, studying him for any sign, any hint, his words were lies. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing that exchange with me, would you?" He grinned, knowing he was walking his brother into a corner where he would either trip and fall or come clean.
'Damn it Cyril, why are you like this? You never used to do this before.' He swallowed. "He just wanted to talk to me about Jibril, Nicolaus and myself and our positions. A reinforcement sort of thing."
"So you're doing badly?" he retorted, one hand raising slightly, a sign of certain spell casting.
"No, brother," he said, shaking his head. "He just wanted to discuss with me things about our arrangement and possibly changing up how we work is all." Ruprecht knew these words would lead into a question pointedly asking him to lie, and Cyril took that bait.
"So he's sending you out." He said it as a statement, a truth, more than a question, his eyes narrowing further. 'Damn it Indalecio, what do you think you're doing now?'
"No, brother mine," Ruprecht countered, trying his best to sound sincere, "you're wrong. He was discussing possibilities one on one with us. What is so wrong about that?" 'This is getting to close - if Cyril finds out, Indalecio will kill me.'
'What is so wrong. its wrong of him to assume hat I want my own brother going out when he's completely incapable and untested. He's never been out and known the true workings of these. people. He'll do something. I know it. damn it Indalecio, what's your game, and why drag my brother into it?' Cyril shook his head. "What's wrong is it makes no sense."
"Makes as much sense as sitting around here doing nothing," Ruprecht retorted without thought. That he paid for as Cyril slapped him hard across the face, sending his head snapping hard to the right. He raised a hand to the injured spot, feeling the growing heat even through the glove.
"I don't know what Indalecio is doing to you, but you'd best not disrespect me, brother," Cyril snarled. "You ever do that again, and I will rend a limb from you, come hell or Indalecio's wrath. I could care less about him, or any of this over you being so impertinent. Remember your place."
"I do know my place," Ruprecht said, his temper rising. "My place is as one of the Ten Wise Men, following the command of Indalecio. Whether we are family or not, matters little, Cyril - we have jobs. And I think you need to do yours better and stop questioning Indalecio."
"And you, Ruprecht, are being far too blind to the scheme of things - haven't you realized that Indalecio is merely using us?" Cyril leaned back a bit, taking a step back as well to lean against a table they had set out there. "I mean, really, we're doing everything, and he just sits here looking pretty."
'And you do anything useful?' Ruprecht thought. "Ah, but he leads us, brother. He is thinking about what our moves should be, and what we need to worry about."
"Lies," Cyril said, waving his hand. "All lies. There's more that he isn't letting onto, and he's playing us all the fools. Its more than Energy Nede. It has to be."
'And you can do better?' Ruprecht shook his head. "And what of it? Brother, you concern yourself about matters beyond our current place - we are here, stuck on Expel, trying to get to our objective. There's no way we can do more until we reach it."
"Which will be soon," Cyril said, adjusting the glove on his right hand. "Or haven't you heard?"
'What? How. he must be making this up. but then, I thought I heard Vesper say it, and Vesper would know.' "Well, that's good, but we're still here. You need to quit looking so far ahead, you're blinding yourself."
"And you're blinded by your short-sightedness, brother, and it will get you killed." Cyril turned then, walking off. "And you better pray I never find you're lying to me. I will rend the flesh form your bones if you lie to me, ever."
Ruprecht stared after his brother, a mixture of relief and anger filling him. 'How dare he. I bet he thinks I am incapable of thinking and acting for myself. And blind. the only blind one is you, Cyril, blinded by your own ambitions and jealousy. You just wish you'd been the leader. we shall see which of us is the incompetent one when I return with information soon.'
He turned, looking out over the wasteland that surrounded the tower. Closing his eyes, he sighed softly, trying to relax. His cheek still stung quite clearly from the slap Cyril had endowed it with, and he tried his best to ignore it. 'You didn't use to be this way, but lately, its only been downhill. anger, rage, jealous bouts, taking things out on me. what happened, Cyril? What is driving you into this madness that seems to consume you so?' He opened his red eyes, staring out at a distant cloud, towards the western horizon. 'If only it were long before our fall.'
"I can only hope I can prove myself in the coming days."