A

  roar erupted from the crowd, a wave of sound so potent it vibrated in

  Arthur’s chest. Chants of his cousin’s name filled the starry

  night. Bright lights exploded overhead, maybe it was a synch’s

  doing?

  On

  the stage, Lucius stood for a moment, one hand resting slightly on a

  dark-wood cane with golden details. He wore his signature bandana

  with a fancy white outfit adorned with gold and purple details. He

  offered half-hearted waves, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere

  else. Arthur, skilled in reading body language from a life of

  avoiding wrath, saw only profound discomfort. The crowd began to call

  for him to display his Flo. Lucius obliged with a sigh and, as if it

  were nothing, began to float into the air, a look of mock surprise on

  his face.

  “Unheard

  of,” Trysten muttered next to him, his voice a mix of awe and sharp

  envy.

  The

  crowd marvelled. Synchs were rare, one in a thousand across Chimera,

  one in maybe hundreds of thousands in Leria, and they were witnessing

  the strongest of them all right before their eyes.

  As

  time went on, Jacen selected people from the crowd to ask Lucius

  questions. He always answered, but with a lack of enthusiasm that

  seemed to annoy the Church officials that were there. The crowd,

  however, didn’t care. Arthur found it strange how after every

  question, his attendant would repeat it before Lucius gave his plain

  answer.

  Someone

  shouted, “Are you really blind? And deaf?

  Jacen

  repeated the question. Lucius was silent for a moment, as if

  processing it, before he sighed loudly. “Of course I am blind,”

  he shouted, shaking his cane in the air. “But it’s too much work

  to explain to you all, so I won’t.”

  The

  crowd was taken aback, but Arthur couldn’t help a faint smile. It

  was a glimpse of the blunt, brave cousin he’d once known. His

  attendant cleared his throat and asked if anyone else had questions

  before selecting a girl in the back.

  “WHAT

  SORT OF GIRL DO YOU LIKE?” she screamed, causing laughter to ripple

  through the crowd. Everyone laughed except Lucius, who seemed

  oblivious. Jacen repeated the question, and Lucius paused, letting

  out a quick scoff. “No one here, that’s for sure,” he snorted,

  drawing a mix of boos and disappointed

  It

  was then that Trysten called out, “Would you consider yourself the

  Strongest Synchrite?” He didn’t wait for Jacen to repeat the

  question. A beat of silence hung in the air, the crowd waiting. But

  Lucius simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”

  Another

  round of boos and laughter followed. Though confused, he didn’t

  dwell on it. It was supposed to be a joyous event after all.

  After

  the questions, a celebration erupted in the plaza. Drinking, dancing,

  and singing filled the night, drowning out all other sound. He and

  his sister were still too young for the heavy ale, so he stuck with

  water while feasting on the seasoned meats on his plate. Looking

  around as he ate, he saw Lucius scarf down mountains of food. It was

  honestly impressive. Jacen, on the other hand, was more refined, his

  slow eating a night and day contrast to Lucius’s feast.

  Arthur

  thought about talking to his cousin again, but something held him

  back. The memory of being brushed off all those years ago still

  stung. He also saw the number of people trying to get Lucius’s

  attention, only to be apprehended by the officials. He thought it’d

  be pointless.

  He

  saw Matthew, his second eldest brother, staggering around and dancing

  wildly near the Great Phoenix Statue, occasionally spotting a girl

  and attempting to woo her, only to fail masterfully, get dejected,

  and move on to the next. This was hilarious to Arthur.

  He

  then shifted his focus to his older brother, who sipped his red fruit

  beer modestly. Upon observing him, he seemed restless, sometimes

  tapping the cup absent-mindedly, sometimes scanning his environment

  as if on high alert. Arthur thought about how much his brother had

  changed. The boy he’d known was a prankster-lazy, never really

  caring about anything. The man sitting opposite hum was mature.

  Almost...responsible?

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Noticing

  Arthur staring, Trysten turned his eyes on him, causing Arthur to

  pretend he hadn’t been looking.

  “What?”

  Trysten inquired. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing...You

  just seem so different since the last time we saw each other,”

  Arthur replied.

  The

  answer seemed to strike a chord. It took Trysten a moment to respond,

  his head bowing.

  “You

  are right, Arthur,” he began. “Being part of the Order...being a

  Knight has made me realise what camaraderie is all about. What it

  means to be a brother. To have a family. I have reflected and

  realised I had been none of those things to you...and I am sorry.”

  He

  lifted his head back to Arthur, facing him straight on. The

  directness stole the air from Arthur’s lungs.

  “I

  am sorry I never tried to get to know you or learn your interests.

  But if it’s okay with you, I wish to start over.”

  A

  lump formed in Arthur’s throat as he digested his brother’s

  words. Looking at him, Arthur saw a face full of determination and

  regret. He noticed Trysten’s cup shaking, this confession was

  costing him. Arthur could see the spirit of a true Knight had formed

  in his brother.

  “Say

  you forgive him,” Freya whispered incredibly loud in Arthur’s

  ear, making them both laugh. Even while stuffing her face, she had

  been listening the whole time, though she seemed more invested in the

  food than the emotional weight of the moment.

  Arthur

  struggled to find the right words before finally managing, “I’d

  like that very much.”

  “Good!”

  Trysten exhaled, slapping his hand on the table. He drew a bit of

  attention, but the revellers quickly went back to their business.

  After a pause, he asked, “Are you interested in hearing some tales

  about the Brave Sir Trysten and his Knightly Adventures?”

  Arthur’s

  eyes lit up immediately. He even interested Freya, whose mouth was

  still full of food. Trysten laughed and began recounting tales from

  his time with the Order of Leria.

  It

  wasn’t long before the night began to wind down. With Freya falling

  asleep on Arthur and a slight drizzle of rain beginning to fall,

  Trysten decided it was time to head home...but not before finding

  Matthew.

  They

  walked past Lucius’s table, only to find that he and his attendant

  had snuck away when no one was watching. Just like that, they were

  gone. Left on the table were the mountain of plates he’d emptied,

  which still confused Arthur. He hoped Freya wouldn’t become as

  gluttonous as him.

  She

  complained as they woke her, mumbling about a really good dream. No

  matter the circumstances, she had always been a deep sleeper. By the

  time they left, the other commonfolk and nobles had gone, leaving the

  roads in the plaza quiet. Only the streetlamps offered comfort.

  Where

  could Matthew have gone? They continued past the plaza, eventually

  confirming from a girl he’d been chasing that he had gone towards

  the slums.

  The

  slums… a place for the poor, the garbage and the weak. It stank.

  The sewage could be smelled before they even entered. The only reason

  they ignored everything they had been taught about the place was the

  sound of their brother screaming in pure terror.

  “Wait

  here.” Trysten commanded, drawing his dagger and charging into the

  darkness without a second thought.

  Arthur’s

  body moved before his mind could catch up. He turned to Freya,

  grabbing her shoulders. “Freya. Turn back and stay in the Plaza

  until I come back.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. She just

  stared at him with quivering lips as he turned and ran straight into

  the darkness.

  It

  didn’t take long for his senses to be overwhelmed. The stench made

  it impossible to breathe; the darkness was his only comfort as he was

  forced to move slower to avoid colliding with anything. Instead, his

  leg caught something, sending him straight into the murky water. He

  cursed, trying to regain his balance but his hands sank into

  something cold and soft. The outline of a nose. The slack open mouth

  of a corpse. He scrambled back from the body, his heart hammering

  against his chest. Doubt began to creep in. He didn’t know what to

  do. He wasn’t a knight. He was a poor imitation of his big brother.

  But

  then he heard the screams again, from deeper down the alley. The

  thought of losing another family member outweighed the doubt in his

  mind. Maybe this time, he could do something.

  Steeling

  his nerves, he said a prayer for the body before walking further in.

  The alleyway spread out into a bigger opening. Fog clung to the

  ground, its origin impossible to discern yet the moonlight revealed

  the true nightmare.

  Bodies

  were littered across the ground, limbs torn away, one decapitated.

  The massacre was fresh. Thoughts swarmed in his head until he heard

  it. A deep, wet, crunching sound. Then whimpers.

  Peering

  around a corner, a part of him died that day.

  He

  saw Matthew frozen on the ground, tears streaming down his face,

  watching as their older brother, the brother who he had just found

  again, being eaten alive before his eyes.