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Duty After Death: Part 1

"…and so, I pronounce you man and wife!"

The crowd cheered as the black hair man and the white hair woman leaned in and kissed each other, people getting up on their feet and clapping. At last, a worthy king for Terrazine! How long has it been since the last one past away? Far too long in many of the attendees' opinion! Nobles needed aid in helping to rule after all, specifically aid in the form of payment.

But underneath that supposedly joy, there was much tension in the air regarding the bloodline of the royal family. The new King bought with him a son, already halfway a man. The reigning Queen had a sickly daughter who was not expected to live long. That meant, in this marriage, the man was getting the upper hand as his bloodline had to be officially recognized as that of the royal Terrazine line. As a result, the young son was destined to be king one day.

Of course, Tarn could care less about and more about the ancient Terrazine Kingdom, a faction that had long faded into the ancient inked paper his gloved fingers now traced along. "Stars…alignment…" He muttered, frowning as he got to a particularly tricky section of the runes and paused.

With swift and precise movements, he flipped the long red hair over his shoulder and leaned to the side, green eyes scanning through the thick black rimmed glasses the titles on the bookshelf. His black gloved hand ran along them until stopping at a one in particular and yanking it out of the row of musty books. A cloud of dust followed, but Tarn didn't care as he opened the new book up, flipping through pages quickly until finding what he needed.

The eight year old bent over in his basic wooden chair as he worked feverishly on the text, trying to decipher an ancient language that had certainly been long forgotten. He was trying in hope to win the royal family's heart by figuring out a cure to the mysterious disease that had struck the princess of late. Perhaps then, he would finally-

"Ahem."

Tarn frantically stood up and whirled around, shutting the books closed with force in a panic as he smoothed out his slightly wrinkled outfit, a butler's outfit with coattails and high collars. "A-afternoon sir! How may I help you!" The red head boy shakily asked, trying to recall protocol as he placed a hand over his chest.

"Aren't you a little young to be the librarian around here?" A black hair teen asked with a hint of teasing in his voice, leaning over to show the massive height difference them. Tarn bristled on the inside, but forced his feelings down as he impassively stared back up at the offending boy. After a while, the newcomer laughed and patted Tarn's shoulder. "No need to be so formal! I'm not royalty yet, treat me like your equal!"

The red hair flinched at the touch, but kept his posture still. "I am only assistant scribe sir. If you require the head librarian, he is currently at the wedding," Tarn curtly explained. "But if you need to find a book, then I am more than certified to help you."

"No need, I'm just taking a look around. Name's Zeb by the way."

"My name is Tarn." The two shook hands and the black haired teen turned to look at the massive collection of books in the Royal Library. He gave a low whistle as he walked between the bookshelves, craning his head side to side to look at the various titles. The red head watched Zeb do so whilst standing still from besides his work desk. "Something you are specifically looking for sir?"

"Oh, no, not really. Again, just wandering around," The black haired teen responded, leaning forwards and examining the books. After a while, Tarn decided that Zeb obviously didn't need his help and turned back to his precious scribe work, sitting back at his desk and hunching over the manuscripts. The eyes behind the glasses narrowed once again as the well-dressed boy began scribbling again, the green orbs flickering back and forth from his paper and the ancient text.

While Tarn reengaged his work, Zeb found himself a book. His fingers ran along its spine before pulling it out and cracked open the volume, a cloud of dust immediately flying outwards. He coughed once from the debris but quickly waved it away as he focused on the page. A low growl was heard as he slammed it shut and roughly shoved the book back where it once was. Without even bothering to glance at the title, Zeb grabbed the next one in the lineup and yanked it out, opening it and scowling at the gibberish. Again, he replaced it and went for the next one with no success at all.

The noise of Zeb's growing frustration broke Tarn's concentration and the red head turned to see the teen practically strangling the book he now had in his hands. "Be careful! Most of these books are the last copies in the kingdom!" He shouted, leaning back in his char to get a better view. "Unless you want to be translating these from the translations back to old Terrazine, then please refrain from mishandling them!"

"Translations?" Zeb froze in his rampage and looked at Tarn. "Where?"

"Right here." He pointed at the stack of books on his own desk, all of them transcribed by the boy himself. "Which one are you looking for anyway? There's a few dozen here, it'll take days if you want to read them all."

"Fine, is there one about diseases? Or unnatural ailments?" The teen bluntly asked and Tarn blinked in surprise. "Oh! So there is one! Where is it?"

Here, a slightly panicked expression appeared on Tarn and he casually leaned over the manuscript he was working on, standing up from his chair in the process. "Well…um…it hasn't been translated yet! Yes, it's not done yet!"

"Not done yet huh?" Zeb raised an eyebrow and approached Tarn's desk. "You wouldn't happen to be working on it now, would you?"

No no no! I can't let him figure out the cure before I do! The boy frantically clutched at straws, but there were none for him to even begin looking for. In reality… I…I never stood a chance did I?

"Here." Tarn's shoulders slumped as he lifted his hand and showed the manuscript he was working on. "I've got most of it translated, so there shouldn't be a problem for you," He admitted, trying to keep the bitter tone out of his voice as his chance of social elevation evaporated.

Instead of grabbing the exposed parchment as expected, Zeb stared at Tarn, shocked. "What, that's it? No real attempt to keep this out of my hands?" The teen asked, reaching over and taking the translation without any struggle whatsoever. He didn't even glance at it as he placed it on top of Tarn's stack of books. "I'm surprised! You wanted to hide this, but you didn't. Why?"

"Cause there's no point." The red head crashed back into his chair with very little energy and took off his glasses, trying to rub away the tears of disappointment. "I guess…I'll have to find another way to advance myself. Yes, I'll just go a different route…"

"Advance yourself? Advance to where?"

"Higher up in the family rankings. That's why I've been working here for years…"

At this response, Zeb fell silent and looked down at the sniffling scribe. His blue eyes grew hard as he realized the hurdles in the boy's path and the work he had put into this. And this was the attitude Tarn had been taught to live with? "No."

"What?"

"Come!" With a lunge, the black haired teen gripped onto the red head's wrist and all but dragged him off the chair. Tarn was easily taken off guard by the sudden gesture and was helpless as he stumbled along behind Zeb, not knowing what really was going to happen. He tried yanking his wrist free, but the older boy's grip was too tough. How in the world was it this strong for one so young?!

Soon, the two were outside the marble white castle/mansion that was the home of the Terrazine royal family. Zeb finally released his hand and allowed Tarn to stumble forwards a few steps before falling on his hands and knees from confusion. The young boy looked up and around to see that they were in the backyard area of the estate, known for its beautiful flowers and mysterious and ancient ruins dotted in the landscape.

But that wasn't where the two actually were. Rather, they were in the training yard; an area normally reserved for the Royal Guards of the Palace to train at. Of course, there was nobody here; all the soldiers were busy doing the security detail. That meant that Zeb and Tarn had free reign of the place.

And the teen intended to take advantage of that. While Tarn regained his bearings, Zeb found a crate of wooden practice weapons and rummaged through them, tossing aside falchion and gladius as he muttered to himself. By the time the red head was back on his feet and in control of his body, Tarn found himself staring down a very serious looking Zeb as the teen held a wooden weapon up to face level.

"Where I come from…we resolve these issues with a fight!" The black haired boy cried out as he swung his weapon to the side. He tried holding back the strike but countless hours of training overrode that safety concern and he swung at full power, even with only one hand. However, instincts kicked in and the red head boy rolled backwards, eyes narrowing behind the glasses as he analyzed the weapon.

"Bastard sword," The young boy muttered, glancing to the side for the crate of wooden blades. Zeb took the opportunity to lunge in, but Tarn sidestepped with incredible speed of somebody trained and grabbed two weapons randomly out of the crate before his opponent's sword smashed it in half. "That…that's incredible strength," The scribe stuttered.

With a flick of his fake weapon, Zeb brought the blade up to his eyes as he clasped both hands around the handle at his waist. "Well, I have to be if I am to lead a kingdom," He replied, shifting his stance rapidly as the blade came down and Zeb dashed at Tarn, focused on ending the duel in one upwards slash.

But he didn't quite expect Tarn's reaction to be so quick. With a flash from his glasses tilting in the sun's direction, the young boy looked down at his impromptu weapons and realized what they were: a long thin wooden blade similar to the style favored by the nations to the Far East (in his right hand), and a wooden short sword (in his left hand). Easily enough to counter this attack!

Tarn's eyes narrowed as he met Zeb's orbs directly, showing no sign of flinching as the red head flipped the sword so that he was holding it like a dagger instead, and met the older boy's attack straight on with a slash forwards. The two blades clacked as met, Zeb's eyes narrowing as he grunted, his attack held by Tarn's left arm as it pushed against the bastard sword. However, the teen already knew what was coming and broke off with a spin, barely dodging the counter swing from Tarn's other blade. "That's more like it!" Zeb roared, letting out a flurry of wild blows as he spun backwards.

The red head didn't even care about whom he was attacking now; this was his natural skill! "Let's see how you take this!" Tarn shouted, his voice significantly high due to his young tones but never quavering as he broke through Zeb's guard with his left sword, using the wooden blade to bring a halt to the teen's attack as his right sword lunged in, the additional length of it ensuring that it could at least nick its target before they could even react.

And yet, Zeb did react in time, swiftly breaking contact with the short blade again and twirling his wooden sword at an odd angle, catching Tarn's lunge with a flick and knocking it aside from its course. His blade seemed to sing as it swung sideways, intent on making contact with the younger boy's neck as the red head overextended his counter attack- A sudden flare of pain in Zeb's shoulder caused him to break the rhythm and stumble back, shocked by the blow that came out of nowhere.

Tarn flinched as his sudden surprise strike ended up shattering the short wooden blade and leapt back, unwilling to stake his partner's shoulder for the sake of a duel. "Zeb!" He shouted in alarm, moving swiftly to the kneeling teen's side. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, don't worry," The black haired boy responded, experimentally rotating his shoulder and noticing that it was merely sore. A bruise would probably form there later, that was hardly an issue worthy of medical attention. "But you, my friend, seem to have a lot more tricks up your sleeve than I ever expected. Never underestimate one's age I suppose! Where did you learn how to duel like that?"

"There!" The two boys immediately whirled around, eyes wide as they found themselves staring down a phalanx of royal guardsmen. The soldiers didn't seem particularly happy about their exclusive training yard being used without consent, and spears were leveled at the intruders. "Who the hell are you two! And what makes you think that you can use the Royal Training Yard!?"

"Oh…um…" Tarn made a panicked step backwards as he dropped his practice weapons. "We were…cleaning! Yes, cleaning!"

"The hell it is cleaning! Arrest them and throw them into the dungeons!" The captain ordered and began advancing towards the two. The red head's eyes grew wide as he turned to make a break for it, but was grabbed surprisingly by Zeb. The young boy looked questioningly and confused into the teen's eyes, only to find in them a look of somebody about to pull rank. "Hey! I said-"

"Captain! On my orders, you are to cease and desist!" The black haired boy suddenly announced, drawing himself to his full height and striding forwards. The Royal Guards all immediately aimed their weapons to him, but Zeb didn't even flinch and instead stood there, waiting expectantly as the lead soldiers blustered. "I have full rights to train here with whomever I chose to duel with! Therefore, you have no grounds for arrest."

"And who the blithering hell do you think you are, giving out orders like that?!" The captain spluttered, his face a vivid shade of red. "You're not the Queen!"

"No. But I am the Queen's new son." A collective gasp from everybody was heard, Tarn included as Zeb declared his relationship to royalty. "Yes, I am him; the new Prince of Terrazine, Prince Zeb!"

There was a moment of silence was the statement sunk in, broken finally by the Captain of the Royal Guards. "Proof!" He spat, throwing aside his spear in favor of a short sword drawn from his belt. "Give me proof by the virtue of a duel!"

Tarn quickly scrambled backwards and the other Royal Guards withdrew as well as the two swordsmen were given room for their upcoming duel. The red head couldn't help but notice that Zeb was still clutching his bad arm, the one upon which Tarn had shattered his blade into. Additionally….that was a real blade the Captain was using and Zeb was still using a wooden bastard sword! "Hold it, we can't have a fair duel with an injured combatant!" The boy with glasses hollered, trying to figure a way to get Zeb out of this mess. "By fair laws of dueling, both fighters must be-"

"Like I care about the laws of dueling!" The Captain roared, twisting and thrusting forwards with his blade, aimed straight for Zeb's throat! Tarn tried to shout, but found that his chords just wouldn't respond as his eyes watched the metal edge creep closer and closer to his new friend's exposed skin-

Quicker than the eye could possibly follow, Zeb flicked his blade upwards, catching the metal with the wooden blade and shoving out of the way. The surprise deflect caused the Guard to stumble forwards, smashing his face right into the follow up hilt bash from the black haired teen as he tilted the bottom of his sword upwards and jolted. The Captain cried from pain and stumbled backwards, losing balance just as the Prince of Terrazine finished the combo via a quick two-handed uppercut slash to the chest.

"Arggghhhh!" The man shouted as he crashed backwards, his armored front side in pain despite only being struck with a wooden blade. His men quickly surrounded and pulled him out, and the Captain immediately saw the cause of his pain: a massive dent in his breastplate, inflicted by Zeb's final strike. He locked eyes with the victor of the duel, who smiled mirthlessly as he asked,

"That enough proof?"

There was a moment of tension as it looked as though the Captain would attack Zeb again, but he seemed to check himself and hold whatever pride he had left close to his chest. "If you truly are Prince Zeb, then I would like to apologize for my brash actions," The Royal Guard muttered, gritting his teeth. "My lord, I plead for forgiveness."

"You are released from all transgressions. Now, return to your duties," Zeb commanded and the Royal Guards all took the chance to flee, escaping the sight of the Prince in case he was feeling any bit spiteful. Ludicrous, in Zeb's opinion, but understandable. If the rumors of his father were true… "Well Tarn, I have to say, that was interesting."

Silence. Zeb frowned and turned around. Tarn was nowhere to be seen. Rather, all that was ever left of his presence was a long wooden blade and a broken short sword.

O O O

"That should be it!" Tarn exclaimed, stuffing the last of his suits into the leather bag and quickly shutting it up. He made one last glance around his now bare room in the servant's quarters, briefly immersing himself in the memories of all the late night sessions he'd had before shaking his head clear of such folly and opening the door with a mighty slam.

"Aren't you in a hurry?"

At the sight of a mildly amused Zeb, the red head groaned and threw the bag back onto the plain bed, collapsing next to it a second later. "I give up. You are always a freaking step ahead of me!" Tarn complained as he took of his glasses and just laid there. "How'd you know I was going to try and leave?"

"Easy. You're not confident about yourself," The Royal Prince of Terrazine explained, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. "You are unsure of everything you do; even just the act of talking to me now must be making you feel uncomfortable!"

"Well, talking to the Crown Prince tends to do that to anybody."

"True," Zeb laughed and leaned against the back of the room's door, letting his head simply rest against the wood. "But the real reason you fled was because you were afraid of retribution from me. That is just flat out silly I might add though, the sword breaking wasn't something anybody could've expected."

"Are…are you sure?" Tarn quickly sat up in his bed and looked in the eyes of the older boy. "You…you're not mad?"

"No. In fact, I'm impressed. Where did you learn your skill?" When the nervous younger boy didn't answer immediately, Zeb sighed and waved his hands. "I learned mine from my father. 'A king should know how to conduct himself in battle.' Rubbish at the time cause there was no way that I would ever rise to this position."

"But you did."

"Yeah, through some dirty tricks my father pulled." Zeb sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "He bribed, cheated, stole, blackmailed to position himself close to the Royal Family. Just so that when they needed a male suitor, he was the first in line."

"Inspiring story and all, but how does that relate-" Tarn froze mid-sentence and blinked, his face suddenly warping into a peculiar expression as he stared at his friend. "He…he didn't!"

"One such thing he had to do was rid this family close to the Terrazine Royal Family. They weren't particularly powerful, just a bunch of loyal and skilled duelists looking out for the best of the kingdom. But they knew too much about my father's intentions- they had to be removed from the picture."

While Zeb kept talking, Tarn slowly reached back into his coat and felt for a cloth covered hilt, feeling it naturally fit in his gloved hand as he wrapped his digits around them. A quiet click made the young boy flinch, but his eyes were still narrowed as his free hand snatched back up his spectacles. Contrary to expectations, the prince still talked.

"So, one lonely night, he ordered a coup. A coup that would murder all the members of that family in one swift strike. There were high casualties of course, thanks to the family all being skilled in the ways of the blade, but there was simply too many. And so they died out-"

With a livid cry, the red head leapt up from his bed and slammed Zeb into the doorframe, his eyes wild as a steel blade was pressed against Zeb's throat with alarming force. The teen slightly choked from the sensation as Tarn hissed, "I'll finish the tale.

"They killed everybody. Every man, woman, apprentice, servant, child, anybody who had even the slightest relationship to the family. But they missed one: a child, who hid beneath the corpses that were his parents to escape the killing."

"So the rumors said."

"What else did they say?!" Tarn snarled with a ferocity that no boy his age should've had, pushing the thin blade harder against the other boy's throat. A trickle of blood dripped down as the edge broke skin, but it wasn't life threatening. "What else did the survivors tell you?!"

"That as they burned the bodies, the young boy rose from the ashes that were his family, his hair red as the blood that coated him," Zeb whispered. "His eyes were a livid lime color that reflected the hatred of his soul as he took the blade of his father and had his retribution. The surviving assassins that came limping to my father reported that they had managed to kill him…"

"Evidently not. I escaped." Suddenly, Tarn pulled back his blade and, with a flourished, sheathed the sword back into its leather container. "And for three years, I've been working for my revenge against your father. Getting close to the Royal Family, reestablishing my family's broken position…"

"Three years…that means you were only five when you killed half the assassins sent out?" Zeb winced and rubbed his throat wound, but sounded impressed. "I guess the rumors of your family are true after all. You are master swordsmen."

"A normal knight begins their sword training at 10. We start from the minute we know how to sharpen a blade. Also, most of that story is a lie: I only killed three of them. The rest of the assassins were backstabbing each other in effort to get the highest pay." With a sigh, the red head boy in a butler suit stepped back and leaned against the lone table in the room. He glanced upwards at the wounded prince. "Know that I hold nothing against you though; sins of the father do not mean the sins of the child. I know that better than anybody else."

"Well, but still, he is my father." Finally dropping the pretense of a wounded royal, Zeb lunged with lightning speed and drew his bastard sword, impaling the metal blade right into the wall next to Tarn. The stones making up the wall melted like butter as the prince leaned into the scribe. The boy didn't even flinch as he gazed coldly from behind the glasses and the black haired teen grinned. "He's a rightful ass though. I think that makes him neutral in my books, and so, I am obliged to defend him…for now."

"Then I suppose we'll have to duel it out."

"Right you are. Training field?"

"Sounds about right."