Sunlight, warm and golden, streamed through the leaded glass window of Selim Leoch's spacious bedroom. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, performing intricate ballets only Selim's unconsciously calculating mind could fully appreciate. He lay sprawled face-down on his oversized, ridiculously plush bed, buried under a mountain of soft down quilts. One arm dangled over the side, fingers brushing the cool stone floor. Deep, even breaths ruffled the fine linen sheet beneath his cheek. Utter stillness. Utter peace.
Perfection.
Eight years had passed since I came to this world. At four, I scoured the the Leoch Library, found out that it had nothing like science, no chemistry, physics, biology. Ah... True bliss, only Aura cultivation techniques and history books on Aura. It was a fantasy world like the games played in my former world. My curse came with me and with it I absorbed everything— scrolls, books and manuscripts the Leoch family had in their library before age six. Now I'll live my life as lazy as I want. He thought.
For the past Eight years, Eight long, carefully orchestrated years of meticulous laziness. Years spent cultivating the delicate art of being perceived as… unremarkable. Fragile, even.
It hadn't been easy. The world, this vibrant, noisy,world of swords and magic, was fundamentally opposed to tranquility. House Leoch was a fortress of clanging swords, barking orders, crackling aura exercises, and the relentless thrum of political ambition. His father, Baron Maxim Leoch, was a mountain of stern expectations. Gareth, my eldest brother, now fifteen and the very image of the earnest, duty-bound heir, practically vibrated with martial fervor. And then there was kaleb, the second son. He looks alot like Vince from my old world but his arrogance is on another level.
Kaleb. He didn't need to open his eyes to feel the weight of that familiar, scrutinizing gaze. Even now, he could picture him: eleven years old, probably lurking just outside the slightly ajar door to Selim's chambers, or perhaps observing from the training yard window that offered a direct, inconvenient line of sight into my room. Kaleb Leoch, his *brother*, carried the same stubborn jaw, the same intense brown eyes that had haunted his past life and now shadowed his present one. The recognition that had flashed between them in the nursery hadn't faded; it had calcified into a constant, low-grade suspicion. Kaleb watched. He analyzed. He could feel it like a physical pressure.
Which was why his performance had to be flawless. He was Selim Leoch, the Third Son. Frail. Bookish (when forced). Prone to mysterious, conveniently timed bouts of fatigue and dizziness. He cultivated an aura of delicate health with the dedication of a master gardener tending a rare, wilting orchid. Slight coughs during sword practice and demonstrations, carefully timed wobble during long court ceremonies and unparalleled ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime, especially when responsibilities loomed. He'd perfected the art of the "strategic nap."
His room reflected the facade. Shelves held a respectable, but not exceptional, collection of histories and herbology texts – the kind deemed suitable for a sickly noble son unlikely to wield a blade. A single, simple practice sword leaned unused in a corner, gathering a fine layer of dust that Selim considered a vital part of the decor. The only unusual items were hidden: intricate geometric diagrams sketched on scraps of parchment tucked beneath a loose floorboard (exploring the fundamental resonance of mana frequencies), and a small, dried bundle of Somnus Root tucked into his pillow (guaranteed to deepen sleep and induce convincingly sluggish wakefulness).
Suddenly, a jarring scream shattered the sanctity of his nap. A person burst through his window, yelling his name
SELIM!
He didn't move. Not a muscle. Internally, however, his mind, the perpetually humming engine he kept throttled down to near-silence, instantly snapped awake.
The person stood upright with a training sword in hand and revealed a female teenager.
"Selim!" She yelled yanking off the covers.
"That is the eldest daughter of the Leoch family, Amnest Leoch, the only person with enough nerve—or stupidity—to yell at him when he is napping." Selim monolouged.
He lets out a moan and turned, facing the other side, away from her.
"Why are you still in bed by this time Selim? Members of house Leoch are warriors to the bone."
He struggled to raise his arm and gave her a shooing wave. Her eyes narrowed and her nose flared in anger. She raised her sword and said, "Get Up", as she slammed it into the bed. Selim rolled, evading the strike by an inch. Even on the floor, he still continued sleeping. Amnest was about to grab his hair when an explosion shook the building.
Smoke rose from the east side of the wall. A metal alarm bell was rung and the voice of Commander Bech can be heard as he barked orders.
Screams tore through the air, this time closer. The clang of swords clashing echoed. Bandits. The conclusion formed instantly, cross-referencing weeks of overheard scout reports, the Baron's grim mutterings about thinning border patrols, and the specific, panicked timbre of the guards' shouts. West Ridge approach. Estimated force: 30-40. Objective: Raid storehouses, possibly kidnap for ransom. Probability of them reaching this room, from the sword clashes, very high.
He heard the thunder of boots in the corridor outside, the bellow of Ser Rodrik, the castle's grizzled arms-master. "To the walls! Archers! Man the gatehouse! Lord Gareth, with me! Lord Kaleb, secure the inner keep! Someone find Lady Amnest!
More footsteps, heavier this time, stopped outside his door. It creaked open slightly wider. Selim maintained his deep, rhythmic breathing, letting one arm twitch feebly in simulated sleep-disturbance. He could feel Kaleb's gaze burning into the back of his head. He then noticed Amnest.
"Sister, you're here, that's a relief. Selim!" Vince's voice was tight, impatient. "Get up! Bandits! We need to move to the strongroom!"
He emitted a soft, unconvincing moan, burrowing deeper into the quilts. Go away. Secure the keep. Let Gareth play the hero. Just let me sleep through the inconvenient violence.
A maid's scream echoed through the building then cut shut.
"This is great," Amnest said."Kaleb bring Selim with you and come with me. Drag him on the floor if you have to."
Kaleb muttered under his breath, "Sorry Selim."
He grabbed Selina's leg and pulled him, running after Amnest. They ran through the corridors and Amnest spoke, "The last scream was loud enough to echo out so it must be in the grand hall.
They appeared in front of the grand hall and the intense clashing of swords made her more sure of her thoughts. Selim stood up lazily, hand on the back of his head.
"You could have killed me, you know," he said.
"The Leoch body is stronger than you think, even your frail bones can withstand that much pain"
"She really isn't fit for marriage," Selim thought.
Amnest pushed open the door and tossed the wooden sword on the floor. She walked to the wall and pulled out the real swords used as decorations behind shields. The bandits watched her do this and began to laugh.
"What does she think they can do against us?" Said one of the bandits.
Amnest gave one sword to Kaleb, another to Selim and held on to the last. She then turned to the bandits and said, " I am Amnest Leoch, daughter of Baron Maxim Leoch. Drop your weapons and surrender peacefully or face our wrath."
"Ehhhhh!" Selim screamed. "There's no 'our' in this. You both handle the violence while i take a little nap."
He moved to a corner, laid down and was off. Both Amnest and Kaleb blinked, stunned by his boldness to sleep in this situation. The bandits burst into laughter again. One of them then spoke, "We'll deal with these two and take the sleeping one for ransom."
"I'd like to see you try," Amnest said as a purple coloured aura engulfed her.
She took a fighting stance and whispered to Kaleb, "Don't let them get to our little brother."
She vanished from his sight and appeared in the midst of the bandits. She swug low and cut off one of the bandits legs. He fell screaming whilst the others attacked her. It was two on one but she was overpowering them. With each sword clash, the bandits stepped back, moving closer to the entrance they came through. One of them slipped, distracting the other. In that split moment, Amnest swiftly cut down the both of them. She turned to her brother with a smile.
Kaleb smiled back but his smile soon turned grim. He tried to scream but it was like the air was cut off. Amnest noticed the shadow behind her but before she could turn, SHLINK.
The assailant's sword pierced her. Blood gurgled in her throat and trinkled down her lips. She looked down at the sword dripping blood then at her siblings. She smiled and whispered," Sorry. Look after Selim for me Kaleb."
The huge man placed a foot on her back as he pulled the sword out, kicking her away. The man moved past his dead comrades and pointed his bloody sword at a seething Kaleb, and said, " Is this the Mettle Maxim taught his children?"
RAAH!
Kale yelled as he ran towards the man with his sword. Their sword clashed, the man only defended while Kaleb attacked. Whilst they fight, he analysed Kaleb, "Hmm. Good form. Sound basics. Even the techniques are excellent. Ah, a shame. If you hadn't met me you would've surpassed your father."
He swung his sword and sent Kaleb flying. He crashed into the ground and passed out. The huge man walked over to Kaleb and raised his sword to stab him.
"Goodbye, little Leoch."
Before he could move, he saw a wooden sword coated with aura near him. He barely dodged but the sword scarred his face. Shock riddled the man, he scanned the hall for who threw the sword but found Selim stretching and yawning.
"Do you really think, I'll let you kill my siblings?"
Effort....ah so much effort, he lamented internally.