"I just don't understand it Archimedes," Mornstein uttered quietly, rubbing his hands. "He was such a good kid until he left, and now he's taking it out on me."

The sorcerer, knowing well of the brothers' issues, drew in a breath, and proceeded to let it out slowly. He didn't like the current issue with the brothers, Mornstein at the current age of twenty-seven, with his brother behind him at the, seemingly childish, age of twenty-three. Archimedes knew well though, that their age difference wasn't there biggest reason for this conflict. It was Merriweather's bullheadedness. Mornstein was a very levelheaded, laid back man. But this had bothered him.

"Am I really the reason for this?" Mornstein said somberly.

"Now, now Mornstein, don't blame yourself for your brother's actions," the sorcerer said.

Mornstein sighed and, with a small hesitation, looked up at Archimedes.

"What do I do?" He looked back down.

"The best thing to do is to settle things with him in a peaceful manner," Archimedes murmured softly.

"I feel like it is too much to ask of him. Have I done wrong? Why must it always be like this with him, even when it doesn't seem like anything is a struggle between us," Mornstein uttered. "Merriweather's mindset is that father didn't love him and Meadowlark as much he loved me."

"Then change his perspective on the matter. There's really nothing more you can do for him Mornstein. But, your father will come back. I know it," Archimedes said gently.

Mornstein never believed this. In his mind, his thoughts had told him that his father was dead, or perhaps, didn't want to come back to Meridia. He gave his father a promise. That he'd protect and provide for this kingdom, for as long as he was the Meridian king. That he wouldn't be selfish and greedy of his power. That he wouldn't be a cruel and heartless king. But now, he had a decision to make.

"You need to settle this with him Mornstein," Archimedes started, "or he may never be himself again when your father comes back. He loves you, you're his role model. His brother. The king. He needs you, but you need him to understand that. Brothers like you, shouldn't have conflicts like this." He continued. "Violence isn't going to solve this problem between you two. What would your father think if he saw this behavior from you two? What would your boys think if they saw their dad and uncle fighting with blades?"

Mornstein sighed softly.

"You're right...if dad saw this, god he'd be so disappointed with us. The boys would think of me differently," he muttered.

"Go find him," Archimedes said. "And talk to him about this. If I have to, I will have Dota follow you and keep a careful eye on the both of you. Understand?"

Mornstein nodded and, with a hesitant thought, stood himself up, and proceeded to the door. He had soon realized, that his crown was still in the courtyard dirt. He directed himself outside, and went to pick up his jeweled symbol of kingship. He dusted it off and perched it back on his head, where it belonged during the hours of daylight. He sighed heavily, and turned to go back inside. But he had a strange feeling come over him, telling him to stay put. He looked down at the grass and rubbed his heel in it. It was a different feeling. As if he didn't want to fix things between them. But he had to, whether his mind liked it or not. He cursed under his breath, and strode to the castle doors. The big, wooden, jeweled doors. He felt compelled, to one day, strip the castle of its doors, and let the people raid him. But he wouldn't do that. It was only in his troubled mind. The thought made him disgusted with himself.

Once inside again, he felt the need to go into his study, and just sit, and think. So he did. His head was pounding, for reasons he couldn't think of. He laid it on his folded arms, face down, causing his crown to slide off his head, and onto the desk. It made a small metallic sound upon making contact with the polished wood. He heard his study door creak, and raised his ears. Small hands, hidden under white gloves, wrapped themselves around the door. Where they clasped the door could only be at the height of a child. Now, there were only three children in this castle. The princes. Mornstein's sons. His eldest, Zander, who they rarely ever called Alexander, was eight. Behind him was Casimir, who closely resembled color with that of Mornstein's father. He was six at this current time. Their youngest prince, Sirius, was an age of five. He more resembled Mornstein. Zander resembled his mother's fur color, that of a light blue shade. Zander and Sirius, had gotten their father's family birthmark. Casimir however, did not. Like Merriweather, both sides of their face bore no mark on their cheeks. Mornstein looked up, to see his eldest standing at the door.

"Daddy?" He said.

The boy was ill, and knowing his father was in distress, he didn't want to rest.

"Zander, you're supposed to be laying down," Mornstein said.

Zander went over to him, and got in his lap.

"But I don't want to," Zander said. "I want to know why Uncle Merriweather is crying father."

"I was not aware of him crying Zander. How long as he been doing this?" Mornstein asked the boy.

"Not very long," the kid said then noticing his father's cheek. "Daddy? What's that?"

Mornstein drew his hand to his cheek, and sighed. He didn't want to tell the young prince what had happened between him and his brother, but he could not keep it from the boy.

"Well Zander," his dad started. "Merriweather and I got into a bit of a sword fight."