“What are you doing diving in the water for me?” Gordon would have said if he were still here. “Dumbass, Corolla is getting away because of you!”

In the heat of the moment, Ranun chose his brother over Corolla, over his kingdom. Again, it proved to him that his country had concocted a false image of him.

“The king who loves his country as much as he loves his family,” Ranun’s people had said, time and time again.

But, if Ranun had to choose between his kingdom and his family, well, he’d cuddle his wife in the flames of the country he left behind. It was a fault of his selfishness he was more than aware of. It formed under the fragile shell he called skin.

His brother lay lifeless, wrapped in tape, resting in Ranun’s lap in beautiful sleep. His body—other than drenched from the lake—was well preserved and untouched. The body wasn’t even dead a whole day. He either didn’t smell, or Ranun had lost his senses along the way. He did have a few burn marks the size of fingers on his cheek, likely where Corolla had shocked him with his gauntlets.

If there were mercy in this world, it would be that his brother didn’t die a brutal, gory death.

Ranun, against any logic he had, undressed his orange, soggy jacket still tarnished with soot after the wash and draped it over Gordon. Why? Gordon looked cold.

Heh, Ranun thought. Remember when we were in Gleon, and I passed out after a long day? You hid me from Commander Tresh and let me rest a little longer, giving me a small handkerchief and called it a small blanket. Damn, it was cold back there. I didn’t know such warmth could come from something so small…

The police arrived, but after a simple request, they let Ranun grieve in peace while the Colors made their way. He hated feeling such a pitiful atmosphere from the civilians forming a crowd. They worried for him so much, unaware that Ranun picked his brother over them all.

Ranun cared for them very much. He fought for them, even when it inconvenienced his family. Calace had moved from her home in Lavenbay, and Gordon abandoned both the Dullswords and their father to team up with Ranun. They fought for a better country; they fought for each other. They fought for Soucrest because they were, in a way, the country itself. At least, the ideals Ranun first envisioned.

Still, the guilt hit Ranun nonetheless. He messed up in hindsight. Ranun could have jumped for Corolla, and Gordon’s body would still remain in the lake. Ranun’s passion hijacked his logic. Though for that, he would not apologize.

When Carter arrived, he brought two Colors. They must have heard the outcome along their way since they didn’t seem to be in a hurry to come. But as Carter stepped through the police barrier, Ranun recognized one of the Colors as his son.

He pulled himself away from Gordon’s body, letting him down gently. Ranun stood up and ran over to Aeryn, mauling him with a long-overdue embrace. He pulled tight, and if not for his son’s plate over his chest, he would have crushed the bones underneath.

“Aeryn!” Ranun said, his voice rasp and desperate. He held his son for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He pulled off just enough to thoroughly scan his armor. Seeing his son in the orange painted leather and tinted metal was a sight like no other. And to Ranun’s surprise, it reminded Ranun of his former suit of Colors he used in the revolution. The plates, however, matched his uncle, taking the best of both worlds. “So this is what you went with? I like it!”

Aeryn smiled, delighted his father was so proud. He held Ranun too behind his back. Ranun’s chin was level with Aeryn’s nose, but man, Aeryn had grown taller. Perhaps it was the boots, also respectfully the color of the sun.

“I’m sorry for uncle…” Aeryn said. He looked ashamed.

“Nonsense, you couldn’t have done anything for him,” Ranun said. None of us apparently could.

“I picked up his sword,” Aeryn said. He had it strapped to his back in a string with a small silky sheath. After stepping back from his embrace, he held it flat in his hand in a dark sheath. Ranun picked it up.

It was now his, traditionally. Since Gordon had no son, it went to his brother. But Jaxton…

He has no use for a sword like this, Ranun thought. But still, as he held onto it—afraid of unsheathing it—he stared blankly at it. It was another reminder that Gordon was gone. But the memory was worth it, for the reminder that Gordon was gone meant that he was once here.

Ranun would accept this.

But Ranun would shop around for Jaxton, give him a gift similar to this, but more fitting for his different style. Perhaps a new gun?

“What do we do now?” Aeryn asked.

Carter moved up from beside the other Color. There were supposed to be other Colors, but it seemed Carter only picked two in a hurry. He stood over Gordon’s corpse, then gave Ranun a nod that said, “good job.”

But how would he react if he knew the choice Ranun had? Carter was a practical one. He might even consider saving the body the better option of the two since jumping alone on an insecure swimmer wouldn’t have been safe against a man as elusive as Corolla. Though, Ranun didn’t see the need to tell anyone of his choice in the first place.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“It’s Color tradition to have him buried in his hometown as soon as possible,” Carter said.

Ranun and the Colors nodded. The only difference between the burials of other Colors and Gordon would be that he would be without his Colorplate when he descended.

“But, we should rest tonight, secure the body, and bring him to Falcon Hill in the morning, then I suppose we have to get Jon to do the ceremony.”

Jon? Damn it, I forgot! Jon, the agent-general, handpicked by the Church of the Square, did all holy ceremonies. The burials of high-up warriors like Gordon were only one of them. Ranun had agreed to such arrangements long ago, but as he secretly identified as an atheist, he dreaded working with a man who used the Gem God as a tool to manipulate the hearts of man.

A policeman rushed in, interrupting them. He handed Ranun a towel, which he happily accepted. He grew cold and wanted nothing more but to rest.

After Ranun was escorted to a private room, he lifted his shirt. The curse had expanded since he climbed to land. The black that was once the size of a balled fist was now slightly shorter than his head, almost reaching his belly button. If it crawled to his heart, he would die. It already overlapped with his kidneys, and he felt its poison on occasion in his daily, passive life.

When it reached the heart, his doctor said it would apply subtle pressure that didn’t affect the other organs nearly as much as it did the heart, making it have to pump twice as hard, something impossible to demand out of the organ. He would choke as the curse strangled him from the inside.

The door clicked, and Ranun shoved his shirt down to cover it.

Aeryn entered. He saluted, but Ranun was too sick to give him one back. Aeryn came over and sat on the bed next to Ranun.

“You know, your mother is worried sick about you,” Ranun grinned.

Aeryn smiled back, knowing that Ranun meant himself. For someone not involved in his life as a warrior, he still worried. Sometimes it was like Aeryn had two mothers. “I’m coming home for a little while. After, with your help, we could storm the Kitchen.”

He frowned at the name before remembering that Corolla was a part of the “Green Chefs,” so of course, his base of operation was called “the Kitchen.”

Ranun shook his head, defeated. “Son, I’m not the man I once was. I can’t fight these battles anymore.”

Is this it? Ranun thought. Am I finally going to tell him why I couldn’t train him all these years?

“You’ve already fought this battle,” Aeryn said. “You’ve retrieved uncle from that horrible man! I don’t understand why—”

“I can’t, Aeryn,” Ranun snapped. His heart froze underneath his skin, but its heat melted through. “Listen, there’s a reason why I haven’t been there for your development. You see, in the revolution, I took a hit to my gut and… I was cursed.” He lifted his shirt, revealing the black mark on his gut.

Aeryn took a moment to process the situation, but he hardly looked shocked. More like the face of a man who finally understood the meaning of some wise words several days after hearing them.

“I wanted to be there for you, more than just as a father. I wanted to hold a sword against you and spar. I wish I had the capacity to train with you, but every time I exert myself, this curse expands, and it’s increasing more and more each time. I only have two battles left in me before I die, from my estimation.

“But son, forgive me. I lacked the courage for many years to properly tell you why. I always thought you would one day resent me for not being there for you as a mentor, and I’m—”

Aeryn grinned in a way that shut Ranun’s trap. In a simple smile, he told Ranun he was speaking too much. His son, the prince turned Color, stunned his father with a simple shift of the cheekbones. “Resent you? Father, I look up to you. You’re the hero I learned about in school and got to come home to every day. The words they say might not all be true, but they’re not too far off, are they? I know you care about mother and me more than anything. Our kingdom comes in second, and then the word is third. It’s your balance. No human could love everyone equally.”

Ranun laughed. He stood up, pulling Aeryn by the shoulder pad to join him. “I’m so glad you have your mother’s personality.”

“But at least I have your looks, right?”

“Well, you have the hair, but the rest of the face is definitely your mother’s.”

Aeryn frowned at that. They walked together out of the hotel room and went out into the city.

They shopped around; Ranun picked out an expensive handcrafted gift for Jaxton with help from Aeryn, who accepted the newly recruited agent as a cousin. Before Ranun could hand it to him, he wanted to get it properly painted.

Ranun brought the Colors to a fine Steepcreek restaurant, then aimed to reward them for both their induction to the Colors and their role in the mission. Carter and Jaxton tagged along, all sitting around one large, oval table. Ranun sat next to his son and Carter, while Jaxton sat with a few Colors on the right.

Ranun aimed to paint the mission to be anything but a failure. He’d helped many warriors through tough battles, and it all started with congratulations.

“Colors,” Ranun started. He lifted his mug of water. “Join me in a toast to appreciate your hard work.”

The Colors lifted their mugs, Jaxton and Carter abstained, only observing.

“Gordon’s death is a setback,” Ranun said. “But you’re Colors now. Death is a part of the job, and to embrace a comrade’s death is to embrace your own, for you too may very well one day die. Gordon’s death wasn’t a slaughter but a sacrifice. He’s the sun that illuminates a dark horizon, revealing what was once invisible. He gave us light with his death.

“So now, for what, for who, and for why, do we trudge through fields of needles to spread our light?”

The Colors lifted their glasses. “For the Colors we hail!” they chanted in unison. They all drank from their mugs.

Carter nodded, pleased that Ranun could boost the new Colors’ morale after a rough first week.

Jaxton, too, smiled as he enjoyed himself. The Colors accepted him as a part of the team, for he really was. Ranun had only learned today more details about their initial plan and how he had gone undercover for the operation.

Immediately, it seemed like a plan by his brother and Carter. Gordon procrastinated in telling Jaxton of his invite, and for the first time, it felt like Ranun cleaned after him rather than the other way around.

But it was nice, seeing the young man step out from the same darkness Ranun had been in before. Ranun couldn’t wait to see his nephew’s face when he opened his present.

Ranun lifted his mug of juice once more, and the Colors looked to him, raising their glasses one by one. Ranun eyed Carter, who recognized the sign and lifted his mug. In a shift of his arm, Ranun—followed by the others—turned their mugs to Jaxton. “And here’s to Jaxton, a newly inducted agent, off to great heights serving Soucrest!”

“To Jaxton!” the table chanted.

Jaxton flushed. “Thank you,” he eventually said. He took it in, the cheering of the Colors, the sense of recognition, Ranun read all of it on his face. He then smiled, looking slightly optimistic. “Thank you all.”