Chapter 9: Antares

Antares sat in his house’s lavish parlor, fidgeting with a broken clasp on his coat. It was well into the afternoon, the sun peeking behind the cloudy sky. The massive windows were half shadowed by the heavy draperies, stitched exclusively for the captain. Glossy wooden walls stretched high up to the ceiling, candle chandeliers hanging unlit. His notebook lay open before him on a small table he had pulled from the side, quill sitting next to it. The same words from the days before were staring back up at him, frustrating as ever.

“Each day plays the same tune”...“weapons clashing”...“escape this dreaded song”...What could come next?

Sometimes the words came to him while he was battling a sparring partner as instructors barked orders. Other times, they emerged as he took a casual stroll through his house. At those moments, he wished he had his notebook on him, ready to scribble down the words that fit together so well. But now that he had his writing open in front of him, all he could do was stare off at the inky script.

When will it be over? he finally wrote. Which note sings of the end?

No one knew of Antares’ secret pastime, not even Rigel. He had originally taken up poetry as a calming method of self expression, but once he was entrapped in a poem, it seemed to be anything but. Who knew writing could be so exasperating?

Antares had gone to his usual training session earlier that morning, numbly following the formations and drills with the rest of his class. He had come home right after, relieved to find it empty of his family. Writing alone was his preference, especially away from the eyes of Janus.

As he kept rereading the words, his thoughts kept slowly circling back to the silver he had seen on patrol. Or what he thought he had seen, according to Rigel. Though Antares was certain there had been something moving between the foliage of the forest. As much as he wanted it to be a silver wolf, his instincts told him that wasn’t the case.

A loud slam echoed across the room, and Antares jumped out of his daze. Heavy footsteps grew louder as they approached, and Antares scrambled to his feet. He clapped his notebook shut and stuck it between the cushions, expecting his father to walk in.

Instead, a tall, handsome man with russet hair matching Antares' marched in. He had a finely trimmed beard, and his hair, unlike Antares’ unruly locks, was cut short. He wore a lieutenant’s uniform of the deepest green, a decorative leather sash draped around his chest, marking his authority along with the intimidating sword at his side. With his black shoes polished to a shine, Archer Euphorion embodied the perfect picture of a guard.

“Why, look who it is!” Archer’s voice boomed in the big space.

At the sight of his eldest brother, Antares let out a breath and tilted his head back, his eyes closed. “It’s just you, Archer.”

“So what if I’m not Father? You still have to greet me with the same respect.”

Antares rolled his eyes. “I see your ego hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

“My ego should be none of your concern.”

Archer walked past and smacked the back of his brother’s head before sitting in the spot Antares had been in moments before.

My notebook!

He jumped forward, but it was too late. Archer let out a grunt and shifted in his seat, glancing behind him with a confused expression. He pulled out the leather-bound book where Antares had stashed it, sitting back again.

“What’s this?” Archer asked provokingly, looking to Antares’ paled face.

“Nothing,” he responded quickly, lunging for the notebook in his brother’s grasp. Archer jerked his arm out of his way, and instead clamped a hand down on Antares’ arm.

Immediately, Antares felt something enter his mind, an unwanted draft blowing in and throwing open the doors of his thoughts.

Get your ass out of my damn head! he roared in his mind, snapping his hand away and stumbling back. His brother’s Gift was infuriating, especially since he held no remorse in using it against Antares.

Archer let out a loud bark of laughter, doubling over. Antares glared at him, before using a bit of his Speed to snatch his notebook from Archer’s hands, who was too busy snickering to notice. For someone who was five years older than his own nineteen years, he certainly didn't act like it.

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“Oh, dear brother, is that a book of poems?” he managed to say between chuckles, leaning back in his seat.

“None of your damn business,” Antares spat, clutching the notebook protectively. A flush of embarrassment washed over him, and he turned away from his brother.

“No wonder Dad’s been upset with you, you want to leave the Guard for a bunch of pretty words on a page.” Archer stretched his arms out, a relaxed grin on his face.

“That is not true,” Antares responded, dropping down in a seat adjacent to him. He set the book next to him, still keeping a watchful eye.

“What was it I Read? Something about songs and notes? Don’t tell me you’ve developed a passion for lullabies now too.”

“Just tell me why you’re here,” Antares said with exasperation. “Aren’t you supposed to be stationed somewhere?”

“Since when am I not allowed to come home every once in a while?”

“Let me guess, Father sent you here to talk to me again?”

Archer raised an eyebrow, his sharp eyes watching him. He had inherited a few hawkish features from their father. “Fine, if you’re so desperate to know, then yes, I did come for you.”

“Well, I don’t want to hea—”

“I’m serious, Antares. These fantasies of yours are becoming more than just a nuisance. Your instructor told me about you wandering off a few nights ago on a drill.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Irwin? I graduated with him. He likes to talk about your lack of competence.”

“Well, maybe you could talk to him about his lack of authority. He parades around like he’s so important.”

“He holds more importance than you, at least. Janus is going to graduate soon, Antares, and you are going to follow him.”

“I can assure you, I will try my best not to.”

Archer let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “Antares, you have no idea what’s happening in the Terris Court right now. You fooling around is the least of Father’s worries.”

Oh really?

“Then why is he so hell bent on making me graduate?”

“There’s rumors, Antares,” said Archer, ignoring his question. “Rumors of some…element’s existence that we know nothing about.”

Antares immediately straightened at the quick change of subject. “An element?”

“Yes, and there’s a lot of myths surrounding it. Some say it can give Gifts, some say it can take them away. Some say it can break through any of the finest steel we have, that our weaponry is no match for it. The Council is rushing to see if these claims are true. You know how detrimental this thing could be if it were?”

Antares stayed silent, his eyes wide. This was the first he was hearing of any such thing.

“Some in the Guard are even saying that the Ash Court has a hold of it. Their Council is already in high tensions with ours. We can’t risk something like this staying in their hands, no matter the chances that it’s fake.”

Antares got up, and started to pace the lush carpet beneath his feet. He seemed to be doing that a lot throughout the last few days.

“And the chances that it’s fake are…?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Archer’s face seemed to have waned quickly in the past few moments.

“So, you’re telling me there’s a possibly lethal element that just may exist?”

Archer watched his brother pace, his mouth set into a grim line. “I swear by the stars, Antares, if this gets out to anyone—”

“I’m not going to go gossip about it, Archer. I know the panic that would ensue. It’s already bad enough that the king is sick, with his son barely coming of age, and that the Ash Court took it as some kind of invitation to try and wrest more control.” The Courts had been in tensions for as long as Antares could remember. He couldn't imagine Ophelia before the Bathaar War, where the four Courts had allegedly ruled in unison. And the recent border dispute with the southern nation not only rekindled disagreements between the two peoples, but also between the Court Councils as well.

“So you have been paying attention.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Do your job and graduate,” replied Archer, his tone firm.

“Or what? It’s not like I have anything to do with this mysterious element.”

Archer stood up, his jaw tense. “Graduate so you don't disappoint Father more than you already have, Antares.”

Antares’ eyes widened, stepping back. Don’t disappoint Father more than you already have.

The room became quiet as Antares silently took the blow, and he glanced up at his brother, his lips pressed together tightly. Archer started to walk out of the room, stopping when he reached the archway, and looked over his shoulder.

“Do your duty, Antares. For the good of your family and your Court. I’m not going to say this again.”

Archer left the room, his footsteps fading away. Antares stared hard at the spot where his brother had just been, a scowl on his face.

“Bastard,” he muttered. The clasp he had been fidgeting with broke off in his hand, and he shoved it deep into his pocket, grabbing his notebook before leaving.