A reliable weapon, one serving him over his years. A powerful sword, a long history from old. Quelling flames, residing there. Lowering his sword, gazing onward. An area scarring from the fire, the stench from the foul flesh plaguing the area, his uncaring eyes. That day, standing on the sidelines, watching those imperials assisting others. A natural part of his job, many risks in it. Eventually returning home, that Kingdom of Xia. Streets crowding, buildings throughout. Some sitting on the sidewalk, others going on with their day. Praises all around, his efforts to their awareness. Their meaningless words, heading to his small house on the far side. Entering it, hearing a soft voice.
"Michael? Is that you...?"
"Yeah, sorry I was gone so long."
Their small living condition, a table at the center, windows on the walls. Curtains flowing down, cabinets on the side. Plants along the corners, the clean floor. His direction towards a room in the back, moving towards it. His uneasy heart, doubt lingering inside of him. Entering in, his trailing vision. Hanging paintings, dressers lining around. A crimson mat on the ground, a bit of a sharp scent in the room. His sister lying on the bed, her sickly state. Her fading color, her long hair. A brown dress on her, vitality leaving her. This paining him, his quivering heart. His hard efforts, providing the best medicine, her poor condition.
"So, how did it go...?" her weak eyes to him.
"Good news, I think I got enough for your medicine." Faintly smiling, walking up to her.
Sadness to her eyes, awareness on his efforts. Her gaze on him, her brother working to take care of her. Wishing to assist him, their cruel life. Her weak body, frustrating feelings within. A brother always doing his best, this immense weight since their youngest days, two never able to live a normal life. Dangerous jobs, payment of necessity. Her expensive medications, trying to find a solution. Nightmares constantly plaguing him, continuously awakening in a cold sweat. His bitter outlook on life, this gentle young woman. Those caring for their own, no matter of their suffering.
"You...work so hard...even fighting those things, concerning yourself with me. If you just—!"
"—Don't even say that...!" interrupting her, lowering his head.
"Michael..." Her disheartening voice.
Awareness on her concern, his safety on her mind. Her expensive medicine, another job not of an option. Her only way to survive, her brother refusing to give it up. Their close bond, searching for a way to cure her. His deep frustration, fearing to lose her. Scorning those above, her birth of a curse. His black vision, this miserable realm. Tragedy constantly existing, wealth of the deciding factor. His ill sentiments, keeping one near, valuing her. Working as a mercenary, his way in living. Loathing it, importance in performing.
"Serenity...I will never throw you aside, just to live a better life. You're my sister after all." His warm gaze on her.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Familial attachments, two in this horrible world. Learning of its cruelty, wealth deciding everything. Two constantly suffering, one not minding. Never leaving memories, passing individuals. Sounds echoing through their minds, pointless tears. A cold direction, playing a similar game. Surviving of importance, holding those to the heart above all else. That young woman looking away, her brother sitting at her bedside. Turning her attention towards him, trying to sit up. Taking a bit of time, managing to do so.
"Looks like you are getting better." Smiling at her.
"I hope so..."
Relying on themselves, none caring for their dilemma. Circulation of money, this natural law. Disgust in it, playing by its rule. His simple wish, difficulty to achieve it. His black heart, necessity in it. Some gentleness still remaining, holding one near. Unease within, fearing the worst. His hard efforts, his dangerous jobs. Worrying his sister, these normal emotions. Distantly holding her hand to her chest, his kind words. Awareness on her condition, her concerning state. Needing quality medicine, importance of a better one next time.
"Hey, Michael...things will get better, right...?" her hesitant voice.
"Of course, that's why you got a big bro." His assuring tone, gesturing his arm to her.
Pureness in simpleness, wanting to maintain it. Seeking after difficult medicine, his willingness to do so. Working terrible jobs, wounds on his body. Reflection of his efforts, pieces at times. A soul feverishly burning, his igniting sentiments. Tormenting despair, reaching for the faintest light. Two having one another, money not enough to separate them. Words meeting her, returning a similar smile. One continuously pushing, no matter of the distance, believing in a way to cure her illness. Knocking to their awareness, facing their attention in the direction.
"Just a bit..." Michael standing up, his stern expression.
Never ending problems, this heavy burden. Challenges in life, pressing through it, grasping at the tiniest chance. Hope in his heart, wandering in blackness, his ill views. Shortly leaving the room, his sister watching him. Finding himself at the door, opening it, a middle age man residing there. Knowing this person, his grim mood. This distasteful situation, stepping aside, allowing the man entry. That person moving inside, the strict mercenary. Closing the path, Serenity listening from afar. A formal letter, Michael gripping it in his hand. Hesitancy from him, unease within. Opening it, reading it, anger growing in his eyes.
"Are you kidding me?! The King is raising not only the taxes, but our rent as well?! I can barely afford the previous price, and get my sister her needed medicine!" swinging out his arm.
"I apologize, but there is nothing I can do about this. I am merely passing along this to you by his order." The man's hands behind his back.
Difficulty of life, hard efforts. Increasing taxes, rent as well. His expensive sister, wealth not within his grasp. An escalating order, money flowing up to the highest, many suffering in the slums. Learning to endure this, putting up with cruelty. Building his reputation, a reliable hand. Pointlessness in it, this person passing on a message. Their false apologies, frustration from the mercenary. An unreasonable medicine cost, another weight on his shoulders. Wondering on covering the expenses, this helpless situation.
"Good day then."
Rising prices, a troublesome dilemma. Silence in the room, his sister overhearing the conversation. Sadness from her, wanting to do more. One caring for her, years of this. Yearning for a miracle, this not existing in a realm of misery. Her aching heart, feeling this burden. That opening door, Michael distantly witnessing the man leaving. Closing of it, the soundless room. Lowering his head, his shaking fists. Their little valuables, giving up much. Their poor life, making sacrifices to survive. Thinking on a job, needing a massive one. These horrible feelings, despising the King.
Damn him...I put my heart and soul out, and all I get is slammed with even larger bills. I don't ask for much, just my sister's health...what am I to do now...? Dammit...!