Above all else, there was one thing that Leon always knew to be an immutable fact.

His brother was stronger than him.

Even at three years his junior, Astraeus possessed a gift with the sword that could not be matched by others, even by Leon himself. Ever since the boy could walk, a sword would never be out of his reach, for Astraeus possessed a combination of traits that would make his rise a matter of when, not if.

Talent, and passion.

The sight of his small figure in the training fields, wielding a sword too long, too heavy for a child, was one that was often met by laughs. Yet still his brother would persist, and it was this determination that turned what started as the mockery of a child’s eagerness to the respect granted only to the finest of swordsmen. Leon, of course, would do his duty as the eldest to encourage his brother, offering to be the boy’s training partner and mentor. It was only the former that was accepted, for though his brother’s intelligence remained childlike to the ways of the world, he possessed an intuition with the blade that rendered all of Leon’s lessons redundant. Rather, it was Leon that would learn from Astraeus.

When to bind versus when to deflect.

How to incorporate a guard as part of a strike, refining both defense and offense.

The importance of leverage in both power and technique.

Fundamentals to any swordsman, to be sure, but under Astraeus’ guidance what would only be granted by years of rigorous practice was ingrained into Leon’s mind when the brothers both were still children. By following the words of a child only seven years of age, Leon himself would also be called a prodigy, and childish pride would let such things be said without consequence. Even at the age of ten, however, Leon knew deep down who it was that was the true talent of the family.

And soon, they would realize this as well.

For though Leon had grown to great heights in his young age, Astraeus would surpass him at the age of eight, and that gap between them would only grow wider as time went on. As this became more apparent, Leon would find himself drifting towards the shadows, a distraction from the genius that had been born into the family. The Rikards were, after all, defined by their strength as swordsmen, and in such a family it was only inevitable that Astraues would capture their attention. Leon knew this, having been raised in such an environment, but as his familys’ gaze turned colder year after year, he could only feel the chill of bitterness enter his heart.

Bitterness that he feared would turn to hatred.

Yet, as he would look upon Astraeus, upon the innocent smile on the young boy’s face, he found that bitterness fading.

So Leon stepped aside of his own volition, letting his brother forge the family’s future. Yet even as the family grew more distant, Astraeus himself would remain close. He wanted to refuse the boy’s help, to prove to himself that he would be able to define his own talents outside of his younger brother’s shadow, but Astraeus squashed such notions with sheer persistence.

And Leon could not have asked for better.

The brothers grew, and as time entered Leon’s seventeenth year his brother’s renown had only grown. Despite this, Astraeus’ smile never changed, and he remained that same wide eyed youth no matter what he saw or what he did. He was unbothered by the burdens of familial duty and the pressure of fame, yet Leon could not tell if it was due to apathy or ignorance. Regardless, responsibility meant that the brothers were to spend less time together, and much of what Leon knew of his brother’s exploits transitioned from first hand experiences to secondary reports. Though he had long let go of his jealousy, it was still a bittersweet affair for Leon to read of Astraeus’s deeds, to be proud of him, yet know that his own ability would never achieve such heights.

Astraeus would still visit, of course, each time wearing that same satisfied smile upon his face. A slight curve to the lip that exuded both comfort and a subtle, gentle confidence that gave him an air of wisdom far beyond his years. Leon could not help but admit that his brother’s presence was always a calming one, and it was perhaps this that stilled the restlessness in his own heart. Yes… he could never bring himself to hate Astraeus, to loathe one who remained so resolute in the face of such overwhelming duty and expectation.

A resolution that would start to tremble.

It is a memory that Leon could never forget. One of Astraeus’ fifteenth birthday. The halls of the Rikards’ Manor was abuzz with activity. People were dancing, laughing, or even challenging one another in bouts of drunk bravado. He could remember Simon and Louis, his guards, bickering off in the corner like they always did. His aunt leaned against the far wall, her sharp gaze cutting off any attempts to approach. His mother and father weaved through the crowd, their silver tongues as equally skilled as their swordplay.

Yet, Astraeus was nowhere to be seen.

It was a fact that, at first, was not noticed by many. Too distracted were they by the celebration that mention of the Rikards’ Prodigy did not grace anyone’s lips. As the night began to drag on, however, it was increasingly evident that his brother was nowhere to be seen. Confusion turned to worry, an emotion that was growing ever more present upon his parents’ faces. Still, Leon himself did not feel such things, he knew exactly where to find his brother.

It was a balcony that lay on the far end of the manor, at the end of a hallway that even the servants did not tread often. It was a shame too, for this balcony looked over the city of Versel. Built so that it rose and sunk with the hills, there was a motion to their place of birth that made it feel alive as its people walked the streets. During the night, the town’s lamps would light up, their sheen matching the stars in the night sky. Leon had seen his brother looking upon the town many times, remaining silent except for the satisfied sigh that would part his lips every time he turned from the sight. Leon expected the same tonight, yet as he approached, he could feel that there was something different about his brother. The boy’s shoulders were slumped, his yellow eyes fixated on the stone that held him up while the longest of his brown hairs draped across his forehead. Where Astraeus would often know of Leon’s presence, he did not react at all as the eldest stepped behind him.

“An odd hour for contemplation,” Leon said as he cleared his throat.

Astraeus started and whipped around, reaching for a sword that was not there, “Bloody-! You could have signaled your approach better!”

“There was no need to before,” Leon said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It would be the courteous thing to do…”

Leon said nothing and stared at his brother with a frown.

His brother sighed, “Right, you don’t do courteous.”

“Indeed.”

Astraeus scowled, “Ever the talker, you are.”

“I know when to let someone better handle it,” Leon’s smirk lasted only for a moment, but it was enough to prompt a laugh from his brother.

“How wise…” he said weakly, turning back to the town below.

“I am surprised I am not seeing it in practice tonight, on your birthday no less.”

“And subject myself to false flattery? I recall gifts are given on birthdays, not punishments.”

“Mother and Father are getting worried.”

Astraeus snorted, “Are they? Here I’d thought they would be too distracted gathering influence to care.”

Leon quirked an eyebrow, “Astraeus, are you alright?”

His younger brother sighed, “I… don’t know,” he slumped further against the balcony, “Everything is going perfectly. I have the affections of our parents, the admiration of our colleagues, and skills that many could only dream of.”

Leon crossed his arms, “And humility in spades.”

Astraeus laughed, “Oh that and more, my dear brother…” his gaze wandered back to the sky, “yet, it all feels hollow. Like I am walking in a dream, fated to wake up at any moment.”

Leon walked up to his brother and pinched his cheek.

“Ow!” Astraeus slapped his hand away, “By the Gods what was that for?!”

“Fancy that, you didn’t wake up.”

“What? Oh, that’s very funny.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I thought it was.”

The brothers stared at one another, but steely gazes soon broke in place of laughter. It was a hardy, yet light laugh, one that could only be shared by those who deeply knew each other. Even then, it only served as a temporary reprieve, for as the laughter faded, that distant look in Astraeus’ eyes returned.

Leon wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders and brought him close. His brother’s eyes widened, but he did not push away.

“I wished to hate you, before,” Leon said, his tone growing soft.

Astraeus said nothing.

“I was destined to lead the family, by birthright, and yet it was taken away. I thought it unfair, especially since it was given to someone so young,” Leon snorted, “A hypocritical thing to say for someone that was just as young, but a child’s bitterness is not so rational. Yet, deep down I knew it was the right decision,” He tightened his grip on his brother’s shoulder, “It was you that was first to training and last to leave. It was you that shared your guidance, not I. And, it was you that knocked down every warrior that the family could procure,” he smirked, “I among them.”

Still Astraeus remained silent.

“I cannot stop your mind from thinking as it does, but know this, Astraeus,” Leon turned his brother to him and met his eyes, “You have earned your right to be here, and that is more than anyone in this family can claim.”

A sheen came over Astraues’ eyes, but he turned away as he wiped them, “I suppose I did give you a good thrashing back then.”

Leon smiled, “I wouldn’t call it a thrashing, more of a pyrrhic victory.”

“Is that what laying on the floor is called?”

“Twas a ruse, had to get your guard down somehow.”

“Yet you missed the opportunity to strike.”

“I decided a nap was a more worthy endeavor.”

His brother laughed. A strong, full laugh that put Leon’s mind at ease. As he calmed down, Astraeus stood upright, yet still looking down to the city below.

“I truly am fortunate,” he said, a whimsical tone to his voice.

“In many ways,” Leon admitted.

“Yet all those ways pale when it comes to being your brother.”

Leon’s heart clenched, stopping the words at his throat.

His brother hugged him, his grip strong as he brought him close, “Thank you Leon, thank you.”

He paused, but as he felt Astraeus tremble he wrapped an arm around him and held him tight, “I will always be here Astraeus. Afterall, what are older brothers for?”

As they released one another his brother straightened his clothes, “Right then, I suppose I should show my face to the people,” he said with a sigh.

Leon walked to the balcony, “Now who said anything about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I merely said I was surprised you weren’t speaking to the people,” Leon shrugged, “I never said that you had to.”

“But mother and father-”

“Will survive. It’s not their birthday, is it?” he tapped the spot next to him, “I believe we can leave things to them for tonight.”

Astraeus stood still, but soon uncertainty was overpowered by joy as his expression brightened. His younger brother practically skipped to join him, and as he did the night faded to conversation. They spoke of family, of friends, and, of course, swordsmanship. The exact words were lost to time, but the air about them, the bliss, the happiness… he would never forget.

The words bled into the night sky, and for a moment, there was peace.

___

There was something different to the air the morning after. In his morning stupor Leon could not place what it was that felt so off, but as he was dressed it dawned upon it.

The silence.

So used was he to the shuffling of the manor’s servants, to the clinking of guards' armor, that its absence felt utterly alien to him. As was the sight of the empty hall right outside his door. An uneasiness started to build in heart, and he made his way to the foyer.

Where he saw blood.

Not a trail, but a stream of it, dripping down the stairs and pooling onto the floor. Its source? The bodies that littered the staircase, the lifeless husks that were once their servants, their guards. So strong was the smell of iron that he could taste it, and as he did Leon gagged, only barely managing to prevent himself from emptying his stomach. He covered his nose with his hand, but even then the smell persisted. His knees started to tremble at the thought of someone who could do such a thing, but he was pulled from his trance by a sound.

The sound of steel ringing through the air.

Of blood splashing against the walls.

Caution fled Leon’s mind as he rushed past the stair and to the main hall. If there was combat then there was no doubt that Astraeus would be involved.

Unless he’d already been slain.

Leon shook his head, there was no way that his brother could have met such an end. The boy was too strong for that. Yet still did Leon worry, for though his brother was strong there was no telling how he would react to the violence around him. After procuring a sword from a fallen guard, he rushed to the doors of the main hall and threw them open, his heart hoping for the best.

Only to see the worst.

His brother stood at the center of the room, the bodies littered around him too numerous to count. The lifeless eyes of their mother stared at Leon as she was held in Astraeus’ hand, her throat cut by the blade her youngest held. Their father was at the boy’s feet, head separated a few paces from his body, face frozen in shock as it laid on its side.

Leon fell to his knees, splashing against the blood that flowed forth from the room. The blood of their mother, of their father.

Of their family.

A scream clawed at Leon’s throat, yet it could not escape. Any form of strength had left his body, and for a moment it was as if his consciousness would leave him entirely. His eyes fell upon his brother.

Or, at least, the form of him.

The boy looked up to the ceiling, his pale skin coated in blood as it dripped down his face, soaking both hair and clothes alike. What was once a white shirt was dyed a sickly red, and there was no trace of light left in the boy’s eyes. He looked to Leon, emotion completely gone from his visage as he tossed their mother’s body to the side.

That is when he saw it.

The black, formless shape that hovered behind Astraeus, the threads that bled from its make into the boy’s body like puppet strings. It held no other features except for the singular arm protruded from the shape, an arm placed upon his brother’s head.

It both terrified and angered him, triggering a spike of adrenaline that granted Leon enough clarity to push himself to his feet. A purely instinctual movement, for after that he remained frozen in place. Astraeus turned to look at him, void of the smile that he held just the night before. Void of any emotion.

Except the tears that streaked down his face.

Leon pushed himself forward, walking towards Astraeus, trying to ignore the bodies that littered the floor around him, the face of their father that screamed its voiceless horror from below. He kept his eyes on his brother, upon the tremble in the boy’s fingers, the tears that bled from eyes otherwise void of any emotion, yet still called out for help. Astraeus dropped the sword in his hands as Leon approached, staying still. His body twitched once Leon was within his reach, put it pulled back just as quickly. Leon swung at the shape behind Astraeus, but the blade bit right though it leaving no so much as a scratch. Still, Leon kept swinging, each strike more desperate than the last until he abandoned form for more strength.

The figure did not move.

Leon swung until his arms could move no more, and it was at this time that Astraeus turned to him. Their eyes met, and he could see his younger brother give him a small nod, nearly imperceptible were it not for the time they had spent together.

They both knew what Leon had to do.

He pulled Astraeus into a hug, not letting the boy see the tears that flowed down his face. He told the boy that he loved him, and that he was sorry.

And drove his sword into his brother’s heart.

___

Ren watched Leon rise from the bed, a dark look in his fellow Black Cloak’s eyes as he sat at the mattress’s edge. It was a look that he’d seen many times before, but they were not so black as it had been today.

“Memories again?” Ren asked.

Leon nodded, but said nothing more.

It was obvious what the man had remembered. The fall of the Rikard family was a tale that was well known in Black Cloak circles. The story of a warrior family slaughtered by its own progeny, a progeny that was a Shade. Never did Ren expect to be partnered with the family’s last son, but Leon would never speak of that day. Not often at least, and Ren never pressured him to do so.

He let his companion gather himself before speaking, “Helbram and his party wish to join us.”

Leon stood up, “I see…” he tapped the medallion that hung from his neck. Ethereal smoke flowed from the jewelry and wrapped itself around Leon. Soon after, the smoke dissipated, leaving behind the full plate of blackened metal that adorned his body.

“I was thinking of saying yes.”

His companion adjusted his vambraces, “I have no objections.”

Ren frowned. He was used to Leon being terse, but there was a brevity to his responses that told the Cleric that his friend was not well.

“I’ll have to speak with them,” Leon said, “tell them what to prepare for.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. You were always better at that sort of thing than I.”

Ren expected a jab in his direction, but it never came. Leon strapped the sword to his waist, and with a brief nod walked towards the door.

“What will you do if the seal breaks, Leon? If we were to be facing the full might of a Shade that not even a Chosen could contain?”

Leon stopped at the door and looked back.

“What I must.”