Books were scattered on the floor of Damian's bedroom. Clothes were piled up on a corner near his closet—they haven't been washed for days. Either burnt or wet, and the other shirt turned into flat ice. For several days, Damian practiced his magic at night after a long day of swordsmanship training. His body is even more tired than before; sleep became preferable than cleaning the bedroom.
It had been days since Damian cleaned his bedroom. Even though Catherine instructed him to clean his own bedroom to become a responsible kid and not rely on others for such simple tasks, it was the thing that he neglected the most. He opened his eyes and saw the mess he made. Crap… I forgot it again. Damian thought. Maybe later, my body feels sore…
Footsteps can be heard outside. Could it be? Ivan always bothered him every morning for their training, but today is Sunday. A whole day just for Damian to relax, water his mother's plants on her glass sanctuary, help in teaching Liana how to read and write…
The steps got closer, and he realized the door wasn't locked again. This time, however, he is ready to face Ivan head-on and surprise him. Damian curved his lips into a sly smirk, before jumping out of his bed and crouching near the door.
The door opened.
Damian casted a waterball spell and splashed the person who opened the door. A yelp followed, then a gasp from behind.
"D-Damian!" Catherine sputtered. "What is the meaning of this?" She wiped her face of its wetness from the waterball, and onto the top of her dress.
"Awawawah– s–sorry, mother!" He clasped his hands together and knelt down in front of his mother.
"Explain yourself…" Beatrice said coldly. She entered the room with her round eyeglasses, gleaming sharply in the dark. "...what kind of sick prank did you just do to your mother?" She leaned down until their heads almost touched—eyes staring at each other. Her thin irises of a snake brought chills down his spine.
Damian dried his mother's dress with the faint heat coming from his hands. He casted a small breeze to dry her wet hair and face. "I'm really sorry…" He looked down, ashamed for splashing his precious mother with a waterball. "It was meant for Ivan, not you."
"Ohh, sweetie." Catherine grabbed her son close and caressed his little head. "Even if I wasn't the one intended to get splashed, why would you do it to your brother?"
"Because he…" Damian muttered. "He always barges inside my bedroom and disturbs my sleep. So I thought I could try and splash him so he wont do it again."
"Even so, what you planned to do to your brother was wrong." She cupped his cheek gently, her thumb motioned to a circle. "Ivan is full of energy, and I know he adores you. Yes, he may seem overly excited around you, but only because he's trying to prove he's a good big brother, someone who can look after his little brother. My little bean. Afterall, he wakes you up every morning so you won't be late for training, doesn't he?"
"Yes, mother…" Damian nodded and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I won't think of doing something like that to my brother again."
"Good boy, but also," Catherine raised her finger. "No more will you use magic inside your bedroom, not unless you can clean the mess you made afterwards. Do you understand?" She smiled with her eyes closed.
"Yes, mother." Damian smiled back.
Beatrice strode quickly near Damian. On her hands was the burnt, wet, and frozen clothes he threw away in the corner. She leaned down and her eyeglasses gleamed to stare at him. Telling him to listen to your mother without saying it.
So scary… Damian thought.
After cleaning his bedroom with the help of Beatrice, Damian decided to spend most of his day in the clearing of the forest. It's the only place where he's free to cast spells whichever he likes. He casted multiple ice shards and hit the stone dummies he formed. All three heads shattered. Damian found a way to make the ice shards he casts as hard as stone. By pouring more mana on the solid type of spell, its hardness can be increased. So the more mana you pour on a spell, the stronger its potency can become.
"Hello, mother's favorite little bean." Ivan's voice echoed in the air. "Nice place you got here, so much space than our training yard."
"Ivan." Damian said. "What are you doing here?"
"Hmm, watching over you." Ivan sauntered closer to him.
"Making sure no bears or wolves would just stalk you and then eat you." He grabbed his brother's shoulders, mimicking a predator attacking its prey. "Rawrr!"
"Oooh, I'm so scared, someone please help me…" Damian rolled eyes. A snort slipped out of his nose, then both brothers burst into laughter.
"You look so stupid with that face you made."
"And you looked like a sniveling pup while clinging to our mother." Ivan said. He couldn't stop giggling.
"Wait– how did you…" Damian's face turned red. Absolutely fuming. "Did you just peek into my bedroom?!"
"You looked adorable being coddled by our mother that morning." Ivan grinned. "You're not a baby anymore, why are you still clinging like one to her?"
"I…I like it. It feels warm and sometimes it soothes away the soreness I felt from yesterday's training."
Ivan's face twisted.
"Warriors don't need to be coddled. They must be hardened like steel, and just like swords they must be sharpened." He jabbed Damian lightly.
"Come on. Let's have sparring today, so I can test your warrior spirit." Ivan ran towards a spruce tree where their wooden swords lay rest. He came back shortly afterwards with both of the wooden swords on either hands—tossing the other one to Damian.
"Are we really doing this?" Damian caught the wooden sword mid-air. "You could have been helping me teach our little sister to read and write, and yet all you think of is training to get stronger."
"Training to be strong enough to defend them. Our sister, our mother and everyone we cherish so dearly. Besides, Beatrice seems to love teaching Liana herself. You can leave her to handle that work." Ivan pointed his wooden sword to Damian.
"Isnt power what you're aiming for? If you don't have the strength you wouldn't achieve it. Our world is literally full of monsters and dangerous people, and I wanted you to be strong to protect our family as well."
"Im surprised you can be sentimental. I thought you're all about fighting, training, and more fighting even in days where you were supposed to have a break from all this sword training." Damian said.
They circled each other, pacing carefully. Neither breaking eye contact.
"I'm not just a brute..." Ivan said. "Use your magic this time little brother."
"You didn't need to say that." Damian smirked. His hand flickered with blue light, forming icicles and hurling them towards Ivan. "Because I'd be happy to use it!"
The older brother swung his sword in a swift slash, shattering all three icicles at once. Damian dashed towards him. He casted an earth magic spell that erected a rock pillar beneath him, raising himself higher for a clear advantage. He leaped, raising his sword for a downward slash, descending with all of his weight on it. Ivan blocked the attack even as Damian pulled that trick on him. He kicked his little brother in the abdomen, sending him flying backwards in the pillar of rock.
"Akhh!" Damian grasped his gut. "Of course… you were always stronger than me, Ivan."
Ivan dashed forward, his fist aiming straight for his brother's head. Damian narrowly dodged the punch, leaving a crack that rippled on his rock pillar. Ivan never stopped swinging his wooden sword wildly, while his brother parried and dodged frantically.
"And you were always our mother's favorite son!"
Whack!
Ivan's wooden sword slammed on his brother's shoulder. It was enough to give Damian a bruise, the strength in which his brother poured behind that swing wasn't like when they usually spar. His free hand clutched his bruised shoulder.
This wasn't sparring anymore, it became a quarrel between brothers.
Hissing through the pain, Damian gathered heat to his hand, forming a bigger fireball. He hurled it towards his brother.
Ivan's gaze sharpened. Now moving with surprising speed, he ducked under the blazing fire and hurled his wooden sword like a projectile, hitting Damian straight in the forehead.
"Oww! Ivan–"
Damian's eyes widened. The world seemed to slow down.
Ivan had already closed the distance between them. Catching his wooden sword as it bounced off Damian, the older brother raised his weapon, ready to strike it down in a heavy, downward slash.
Despite the pain swelling all over his body, he scrambled on his feet backwards.
"Ice Block!"
He casted multiple ice barriers, thick and impossible to penetrate from in and out. Completely surrounding Ivan and blocking his path.
Taking a moment to breathe, Damian checked the stinging bruise on his shoulder before pressing his hand against his throbbing head.
"You think these ice barriers can hold me?" Ivan's voice echoed inside the icy walls.
He leaped over. His boots landed on top of the ice, his face nearly looked unreadable. Was it a mix of anger, and a deep pang of jealousy? Ivan bent his knees and launched himself straight to Damian like a diving falcon.
With no time to waste, Damian fired everything he got to his brother. "Fireball!" He uttered and threw his hand at Ivan. But Ivan dodged.
"Ice Shards!" He hurled with his other hand the spell. A couple ice shards went past his brother's shoulder—some hit, but Ivan had no plans on stopping himself. He stepped from one angle to another, turning himself to a nightcat with his sheer agility.
"Waterball!" Damian hurled both of his hands to summon a big waterball spell. It should be enough to at least splash his brother's entire body. But Ivan already braced for the waterball's impact—his arms blocking a huge ball of speeding water. It hit him head on, splashing his body wet in the open cold, but his legs never stopped sprinting.
"Ivan, wait–" Damian raised his wooden sword. Ivan thrusted his sword aimed at his brother's guts, but it got parried with an upward slash. "You're being too hard!"
They clashed their wooden swords. The clattering of wood against wood began to fill the cold air as their clashes intensified. With every block and parries Damian does, his hands begin to throb in pain. His brother's strength was too much for him—even if their training routine were the same, the outcome always favored Ivan to become stronger than him.
"I'm gifted with unnatural strength," Ivan said. His swings intended to hurt his brother. "Even stronger than you despite being in the same bloodline. But why, why are you the only son our mother pays attention to? I hear more praises coming from her to you, but I hear none for me when I train hard every single day even before we first started training to be strong just like our father. She loved father for his incredible strength but why won't she like me for trying to do the same?"
"What?" Damian blocked his brother's chopping strike. "Is this why you're getting aggressive at me? Are jea–"
"Shut up!" Ivan roared. "Don't act like you know nothing about this." He swept his brother's leg.
Damian's back met the cold snow on the ground—too weak to fight back and stand up. His brother loomed over him, both hands raised the wooden sword. Ivan couldn't attack him just yet, not when he lay there weakly.
"Get up, get up and fight or it wouldn't be fair."
"Ivan…you won. Let's call it a day with you as the victor–"
"I said get up and fight back!" Ivan swung his
wooden sword in a chop.
Damian looked at the wooden sword about to hit his head. His instincts kicked in at the very last second. He threw his hands and wind gathered around his palm, spinning like a whirlwind.
"Wind blast!" Damian said, casting the basic wind spell. The force created from the spell blasted Ivan away from him—creating a fairly long distance between them.
Ivan seemed knocked out for a moment. Until he slowly pushed himself off the snow-covered ground and dusted off his sweater. "That's more like it." He assumed a stance. "Do more of that and you could become my equal.." He dashed forward his brother.
Damian gathered wind in his hand again. He had no choice but face him head on—try his best to survive. His knees bent slightly, and dashed to meet Ivan in yet another clash.
"That's enough, you two,"
A voice rang through the clearing.
It wasn't their father's voice as they would have expected. No, it was feminine and filled with concern.
"I don't want to see the two of you hurting each other."
Yet, the brothers' wooden wooden swords never stopped clashing. It was as if they hadn't heard a single word from their mother. To settle this quarrel is to have either of them knocked out or yielded.
The two stared at each other, their knees bent, steady on their defensive stances.
Six heartbeats passed
They dashed and threw themselves onto each other once more.
Thud!
The brothers slammed head-first on a bright-yellow, transparent wall. A barrier of light stood between them, refusing to let either of them pass.
"I said, enough!"
Catherine's cry cut through the air, echoing across the clearing. Her steps quickened the moment she saw the red-pink bruise on Damian's forehead.
"It's okay now," She whispered softly.
A hue of green light flared around her hand as she applied healing magic to his injuries—her green shawl draped over them like a protective wing. It felt warm. Catherine's embrace soothed every ounce of pain lingering from the fight.
"Did your brother hurt you too much again?"
"No…we were just having a sparring…but, Ivan–"
"Tch."
Ivan strode over them. His grip on his wooden sword tightened until it turned white.
"Do you see it now, Damian? How Mother loves you more than me?"
Ivan let out a bitter laugh, mocking Damian, who was still clinging at his mother.
"Oh Damian, the brilliant genius, Mother's brightest son, always retreating back to her embrace when seriously hurt by his–"
"Enough, Ivan!" Catherine snapped.
Her eyebrows furrowed deeply. This was the closest Damian had seen his motherto being truly furious. She was gentle by nature—despite the pain and anger in her eyes, she couldn't bring herself to scold or punish Ivan.
"Just stop…" She pleaded to her son.
Hearing this, Ivan threw his wooden sword. He stomped his way out of the clearing, sprinting as he disappeared into the line of trees.
"Ivan, wait!" Catherine cried out. Her hand reached in the empty air.
Damian quickly helped his mother to her feet. As their eyes met, no more words were needed. They both knew they had to go after him.
…
Inside the warmth of the mansion, Damian went upstairs with his mother. They headed towards his brother's bedroom.
Rattle
The doorknob won't budge. He knocked twice and called out to him. But no answer came.
"It's okay, Damian." Catherine touched his shoulder. "I'll talk to him. You can step aside."
She gathered a small amount of light on her hand, shaping it into a glowing key. It fit perfectly through the keyhole. With a soft click, she twisted the door open.
They found Ivan on his bed.
He's curled up tightly, his head sunk low between his knees. Damian couldn't tell if his brother was sobbing or just hiding his face away. Peeking slightly on the doorframe, he remained outside, silently observing how his mother would handle this situation.
Catherine sat beside Ivan on the edge of his bed. She gently draped an arm over his shoulders.
Ivan flinched, shifting as if he didn't want to be touched. He let out a muffled sniffle and a grumble.
"Hey, sweetie." Catherine said. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just…upset at what you did."
"I'm…sorry." Ivan muttered. It took him a long moment just to force the words to come out. "I guess I got carried away. I lost control of myself at that moment."
"Ivan, you said something out there about me having favorites?"
"I…uhm…"
"Is that why you seemed upset? That you vented your frustration on your brother?"
"...yes."
Ivan scooted away, his ears flushing red, he seems as if he's thoroughly embarrassed by his own reasoning.
"You favored Damian more because he was born with the same magical talent as yours, right?"
"Thats a ridiculous thing to say."
Catherine reached out and pulled him close until he was pressed firmly on her side. She gently guided his head down to her lap, caressing his hair.
"I love both of you. Not because of your talents, but because you are my sons." She smiled warmly.
"Then why Damian gets all the hugs and kisses?" Ivan pouted, looking up from her lap.
"Is that why you were upset? Hmmm?" She leaned down, a sly smirk playing on her lips.
"So even my mighty warrior wants big hugs and sweet kisses?"
"Wai- mother-" Ivan squeaked.
Before he could even protest, Catherine showered his cheeks and forehead with a flurry of kisses.
"Ivan," She whispered. Wrapping him in a fierce, crushing embrace. "I was afraid you might be growing up too quickly, already thinking about achieving great things just like your father did. But still, you're just a kid afterall. My eldest son. My little lion."
Ivan surrendered to her warm embrace. Adjusting his rigid posture, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.
"I'm really sorry…I'm sorry I got upset for the stupidest reason."
"Dont be so hard on yourself." She murmured, caressing his back. "Think of it as a lesson. Next time, you must tell me how you feel."
Seeing how the tension had faded, Damian finally stepped inside his brother's bedroom.
"Your attacks didn't even hurt me that much." He crossed his arms and smiled.
"Hey," Ivan pulled away gently from his mother's arms. He faced Damian, his fingers fidgeting nervously. "About what happened. I got carried away and…got mad because-"
"You don't get as many hugs and kisses from mommy as I do?" Damian interrupted smoothly. "It's because you try so hard to appear like a brave northern warrior. You don't realize that even the most hardened warriors needed comfort sometimes."
Ivan blinked, completely caught off guard.
"Wh- what are you saying? How do you even know those things?"
"Enough talking," Catherine giggled.
With a sudden tug, she grabbed both of them and let themselves fall down onto the soft bedsheets, her arms wrapping firmly around the two brothers.
Damian and Ivan clung to their mother's arms. Ivan pressed his cheek against her shoulder, his eyes closed with utter contentment and warmth. Enveloped by the quietness of the room, they eventually drifted into a peaceful afternoon nap.
…
The next day. While walking on the corridor of the second floor of their mansion, Damian heard a grunting noise. It came from the side of the corridor where his father's office was located. Peeking on the corner of the wall, he saw Ivan, trying to open the doorknob. He strode towards him.
"Ivan, you're going to get in trouble for this." Damian said. "Let's head out before Father finds us."
Ivan turned. His lips curved into a mischievous smirk. "Perfect timing, little brother."
"Dont get funny ideas now." Damian furrowed his brow.
"Do you know about light magic?" Ivan said. "Create a key like our mother did yesterday. I wanna know what kind of cool stuff our father stored inside."
"I haven't learned light magic yet. It's not written on the booklet."
"Then use earth magic." Ivan said. Saying as if forming a key out of solid rock was easier than it sounds.
"Fine…" He grumbled as he reached his palm to the keyhole. Rocks formed to fit inside like it's a mold to be filled. "Just wait a moment."
The first key was crude. It crumbled when he twisted the earth-made key. Damian poured more mana to reinforce its solidness.
Click.
The door groaned open.
They marvel at what they saw—a huge sword hanging on the wall with runic patterns etched across the blade. It wasn't just any normal sword they commonly saw wielded by warriors and knights. But a rare and special kind of sword most noble houses in the realm famously possesses. Arcaedian steel sword. A powerful weapon forged with ancient magic—a weapon that could cut through metal like it was paper.
Ivan walked closer, his finger traced the cold metal of the sword. "Woah…" Ivan said. "This isn't made with common steel."
"I can sense magic pulsating through that sword." Damian's eyes were glued on the sword as well. "It's just how they were described in the book I've read..."
"Frost." A voice caught their attention behind. They turned and saw their father leaning on the door frame. "A fine beauty, isn't she?" Lanius curved his lips into half a smirk.
"It's his fault." Both brothers pointed their fingers at each other.