Kadmus took his seat between them, giving Romula a kiss to her hand, and then doing the same for Evra, “As you can likely tell, Sancta is still taken aback that she carries the blood of Tibur and Xirxus within her.”
“And perhaps it’s that very blood that has brought them to us today.” Evra chimed in, “Children, please, sit. Let us enjoy ourselves!”
The air was tense, distant, and cold. As Amaro and his siblings took their seats, he found himself wondering what it was he was supposed to do.
What could he say to the mother he hadn’t seen in months, and the father he hated?
Romula had treated him well, but he could always tell she never knew who Amaro was. She only knew who he was supposed to be, but not who he actually was.
“I take it Lorshiir has been training the four of you well?” Romula asked the table.
“Lorshiir has engrained deep honor and strength in them,” Kadmus answered for them, “Though where he has excelled in those aspects, he has lacked in others. Such as establishing discipline.”
“Ah, then that is something they must learn before they meet the Tiburs.” Evra said in a distant monotone cut away from any compassion for the Tibur name.
“Indeed. Though nothing teaches discipline like the harsh and uncaring Altix,” Kadmus said.
Amaro hated this conversation. He could still remember the times his family could laugh and be warm to one another. How Romula and Evra had been such compassionate and giving mothers to him and his siblings.
But now?
All that was left were those distant uncaring regards. His real mother was there somewhere. But where?
The conversation kept going, but it was ripped up somewhere inside Amaro’s ears. He didn’t want to hear it. But he did.
“Oh Sancta, my dear, even if you share the blood of the Tibur your father could see that we were cut from a different cloth than the others. It’s why we stayed here and not in the filth of our upbringing.” Romula said.
His mother wore a mask just like the rest of them. Clinging desperately to power. Decadent and addicted to their influence that they’d thrown away everything to cling to it. Why were the Tibur looked down upon? Simply because they allowed anyone to have the mark of a noble?
Wasn’t meritocracy the foundations for which the Xirxus clan was meant to uphold? Why did Amaro constantly have to hear about good breeding, and family blood?
“Indeed, blood born from nature’s most selective trials.” Kadmus said, “You are each greater than them. The four of you are destined to inherit the four corners of the world. While others may be strong, you are all brilliant as well. That is what makes you worthy of leading.”
Droning on and on with one another about her child’s brilliance. Keeping tabs on the growing strength of Amaro and his siblings. Only ever asking about how good they were progressing as heirs. Never did they ask how happy they were as children.
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“Ah, but let us not forget our humility. The Altix shall soon teach you that even the most brilliant and strong can fall if they allow compassion and pride to soften their hearts. The estate’s trials are only a whisper of the world’s challenges.”
Acknowledgement was only given for exceeding expectations, and the expectations just kept getting higher and higher.
It was never enough for any of them. It would never be enough.
“Though I don’t doubt the other families will be looking for any reason to test our strength. So please, do not embarrass us by making the nature of your heritage public. It is the truth that you are all born from two noble families, but you may ignore the Tibur side. Lest the other families become bold enough to start a war,” Romula said.
Here the four of them sat, some of the youngest heirs to ever exit the Xirxus estate on their own power, and yet they were regarded by their parents as possessions. Warned not to humiliate them.
“Your mothers both speak the truth.” Kadmus started, “Your early triumphs only signify that you are ready for greater challenges. You four have the unique opportunity to bring our house into a new golden age. Do not disappoint us, and do not waste this potential, is that understood?”
Amaro and his siblings were prized stallions who would be gutted the moment they broke their legs. Amaro understood that very well already.
The day his father had become a symbol was the same day Amaro had lost his father. But it had also been the day he’d lost the love and attention of his family. It was the day he was meant to represent the future of his household rather than being his own person.
His scar burned on his nose.
Why couldn’t he have this? Why did his mother need to act so cold instead of being herself? She really was just a chained dog.
But so was his father despite being at the top of society. For all their power, they were not free. They were all just slaves, and as far as Amaro was concerned, the Tibur were the only people who were free. He wanted winter to come as fast as possible.
After he endured several hours of unbearable conversation, Amaro stood up.
“If you’ll excuse me father, I have wanted to get a souvenir to remember this day, as well as a gift for Anitus. Would you provide me with some money?” Amaro said in the most calm tone he could manage. Hoping that his father mistook the slight tremble in his voice for nervousness and not rage.
Kadmus regarded him sternly as he reached into his coin purse and pulled out a handful of copper and silver coins, “Don’t allow yourself to be swindled. If they know how much money you have they’ll raise their prices.”
“Thank you for the advice. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Amaro hurried out the door. He wanted to break something, but right now he just needed to clear his head.
No, that wasn’t quite right.
He thumbed the coins in his pocket.
Amaro wanted to cry. He wanted to spit, and thrash and throw a tantrum. But he carried himself with dignity and grace as he was trained to do from the day he could walk.
He spent all his money, and one of the rings on his fingers, to purchase Anitus a trinket made by humans. It was a golden brooch that, when worn, could be used to magically pull a set of flowers from his sleeve or pant legs. All it required was some mana and its command word, ‘Mia moray’. Apparently the color, health, and number of flowers depended on how the user felt about the person they pulled the flowers out for.
Such a ridiculous item was perfect for his brother as a prank. Amaro intended to teach him the command word and tell him it would let him pull a dagger from his sleeve or something.
Amaro was on his way back in slightly higher spirits before the scent of smoke hit his nose. He looked to the sky, only to see a billowing cloud off to the south east of the city. He focused his ears, and heard a faint scream in the distance.
No, that wasn’t right. It was more of a roar. A berserker’s battlecry.
Amaro glanced at the Colosseum. He needed an excuse to stay away from that box of lies.