"Following their lead,
the two brothers eventually encountered
a baker and a pair of blacksmiths."

・ ・ ・

"Marisoix..." Ash tossed her hair back, a frown on her face. "Are you, perhaps, referring to the family who runs the Marisoix Bakery near Argia Alley?"

Tesarah gave a nod, her eyes wide. Storm was intrigued. The girl, Yelena Marisoix, was a baker? "Do you know them?" he asked the general.

"Not personally, but from word of mouth, Your Highness." Ash shrugged her shoulders. "My soldiers are a rowdy group of gossips, really. If I recall, they mentioned that the bakery is quite well-known for its handmade curry buns. The family running it has Faténorian roots." She paused, frowning, and started muttering inaudible things under her breath, before huffing. A shake of her head. "... Disregarding all of the other nonsense they spoke of, I believe my soldiers also mentioned that they have a single daughter, making them a family of three."

"Is that who you were talking about, Tesarah?" Storm asked the white-haired girl.

"Y-yes!" Tesarah gave a vigorous nod of her head. "That's Yelena. She gives us unsold bread every night, once the bakery is closed."

Yelena seemed to be a rather kind person. Storm was fascinated, and determined to meet the girl. She was their best lead to find Slayen. They had to meet her and persuade her to lead them to the criminal. No matter what the cost. He nodded at Ash, and the general returned a grim smile.

"Does this Yelena Marisoix know that Slayen is with Minara?" Ash suddenly demanded. Silver eyes flashed. "Depending on your answer..."

"I-I'm not so sure..." Tesarah murmured, lowering her gaze to the floor. "It's been some time since I last spoke to her, so I..."

Ash scrutinised her. Then a huff, and a toss of her hair. "Very well. We shall see what happens." Storm nodded, understanding the general's concern. If Yelena knew that Slayen was hiding with Minara, that would make the girls' situations the same— partners of the murderer.

And that would make things far more complicated.

"Um, Storm," the white-haired girl stuttered then, "when we find Minara, do you think..."

"What is it?" Storm asked tenderly, noticing how she was trembling while she tried to find the right words to say. Was she scared? Of what? There was nothing for her to be afraid of.

Just when Tesarah was about to speak again, there was the sound of footsteps.

"An intriguing tale," came Xenor's voice, and the three of them jumped. They turned, and saw Xenor standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, posture lax. Storm had to force himself not to recoil at the sudden appearance of his brother.

When had he appeared? How long had he been there, eavesdropping on their conversation? Storm had no idea, for his brother's habits were conundrums by themselves.

Xenor cocked his head, eyeing them. His green gaze then flickered over to Tesarah. A barely discernible twitch of his brow.

The white-haired girl paled immediately upon meeting his scrutinising stare, expression stricken and turquoise eyes wide. She sidled behind Storm, clutching his sleeve as she eyed his brother with much timid wariness. Her hands were trembling. A shuddery breath.

Storm stood in front of her, sensing her discomfort. He knew the reason why she was so fearful, having witnessed the pain and abuse she went through when she was caught by Xenor a few years ago with his own two eyes.

"Is there a need to look so alarmed?" A scoff. Xenor approached them, still wearing that aura of intimidating disapproval. "I do wonder why I was not called down, especially when you were discussing an issue of such dire importance."

There was that signature frown— that judgemental, irked, pressuring frown which often left Storm feeling jittery and with a desperate need to crawl into a hole. "I-it's... well..." he stuttered, attempting to find a good enough excuse to deter his vexed brother from vituperating the terrified girl behind him, as he was certain he would do.

How could he tell Xenor that Tesarah did not ask to meet him too? That Tesarah did not want to meet him? That she feared him? His brother would take offence. Storm knew he would.

And that scenario would not turn out very well.

Xenor raised a brow at him as he stumbled over his words and opened his mouth to say something, but fortunately, Ash intervened by clearing her throat. "I apologise, Your Highness Xenor, but your whereabouts were rather unknown. We did attempt to find you, believe me, but we could not, so we could not ask for your presence earlier."

Silence. Storm gaped at the general, where she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, holding his brother under unfazed scrutiny.

Xenor returned her gaze with an unreadable one. Then his shoulders dropped, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "... Very well, you make a decent point," he muttered, before shifting his attention back to Tesarah, who shrunk further away from him. "Now, about you." He raised a finger, pointing at her, and she stiffened.

"Brother, please—" Storm began.

Xenor turned his finger to him, a signal to keep silent, and he clammed his lips shut, brows furrowing. Green eyes glinting, his brother continued, "Tell me, Ms Tesarah. What do you hope to gain from us by selling out your friend?"

The air went still.

"W-what?" Tesarah choked out, eyes widening further. Storm felt her pull on his sleeve, knuckles nearly turning as white as her hair. The disbelief and confusion on her face were as clear as day. He himself could not believe what Xenor was asking, and he gaped at his impassive brother.

"Surely, someone of your status must desire something from us royalty." Green eyes rolled. "Perhaps you are hoping to clinch the reward money for capturing Slayen by giving us information on his location? However, that would be rather unfair to the others valiantly attempting to apprehend him."

"Brother, what are you—?" Storm started again.

"Or," Xenor cut in, "perhaps you are trying to butter us up by supplying this information. That would be your most likely aim, no? For the girl you are." His gaze drifted down to where Tesarah was clinging to Storm's sleeve. "Specifically my dearest little brother, it seems."

A rush of heat went up Storm's neck, and he sputtered, "What? No! Brother, that's not—! We're not—!" He and Tesarah were friends. Friends. There was no need for the girl to 'butter up' to him, because she was already someone important to him. He didn't understand why his brother would think that way.

"Your Highness Xenor, while I understand your concerns, Ms Starrod is..." Ash frowned, seeming to have the same thoughts.

"... I don't want anything," Tesarah whispered then, and Storm saw that her face was scrunched together, brows furrowed, lips pursed. She let go of his sleeve, posture tense, fists clenched at her sides. "I just want to help my friend."

"And do enlighten me on how selling her out is considered 'helping', Ms Tesarah." Xenor raised a brow. "For assisting a criminal, Minara may be jailed."

"I know. That's why I wanted to ask if..." Trailing off, the girl dropped her head, breathing deeply. "That's why I wanted to ask if Minara could be spared, when we find her."

"You are asking us to not apprehend Minara?" Ash's eyes grew wide. Her hand slid up to the hilt of her rapier. "Even though she is assisting the kingdom's most wanted criminal? The murderer of our rulers?"

"That criminal is her brother!" Tesarah exclaimed, agony twisting her soft features. "Her only brother. Her only family. She loves him so, so much that she doesn't care what happens to her if she's found!" A puff, a breath, and she composed herself. "That's why I'm doing this. I don't want any reward. I just want to help Minara let go of Slayen.

"I don't want her to keep clinging to someone who's done so much wrong!"

"Then she should be jailed," Xenor stated flatly. "That would be the best way for her to learn to let go, by showing her that her thoughtless actions have drastic consequences."

"But she's just defending her brother," Tesarah protested, her tone one of vehement desperation. "Her only family. She hasn't harmed anyone. She hasn't killed anyone."

"She is assisting a murderer—"

"Brother, please," Storm interrupted. Xenor stopped, narrowing his eyes in annoyance, and was about to speak again when Ash held him back, shaking her head.

Shooting the general a brief look of gratitude, Storm turned to Tesarah. The girl was biting her lip, eyes glassy, shoulders hunched. Her fists were clenched so tightly he became worried that her nails would cut into her palms. "I understand what you're saying, Tesarah," he began slowly, trying to soothe her frustrated nerves. He took her hands, massaging the back of them if only to help ease her. "But we can't just let Minara go like that."

"But she..." Tesarah began, worry creeping into her gaze.

He shushed her. "I know. I understand why she's doing it." With a melancholic smile, he lowered his voice and went on, "If someone like Slayen was my brother, I would defend him too."

He had thought about it while listening to Xenor and Tesarah argue. Minara was an orphan, and Slayen was her only family. Naturally, she would not be willing to let go of him so easily, having spent her whole life with him, supporting each other. And while following that train of thought, he had found himself wondering what he would do if Xenor was a criminal.

What if his brother was the kingdom's most wanted man, who had committed so many terrible sins that everyone was against him?

Storm had pondered on it. And he had decided that, even though they were not close, even though they were so different from each other, he would defend Xenor with his life. Because they were brothers.

Because they were family.

And he would help Xenor change, repent, even if it took a lifetime.

Tesarah stared at him, body relaxing, although her expression still remained pinched. Her fingers were red from the effort of digging into her palms. He gazed at them, noting how calloused they were for a girl so young. "I'll try," he told her. "As much as possible, I'll try to help Minara so she won't get jailed. Even if everyone else is against it, I'll try to fight for her. Okay?"

"... Okay," the girl whispered, a weak smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Storm."

Storm turned back to Xenor and Ash. His brother was silent, severe, expression indecipherable. The general had a skeptical look on her face, but gave an affirmative nod at his words. "Then it is settled," she said. "We shall visit Yelena Marisoix at once."

"Wait!" Tesarah cried, just before Ash could march off. "I'm sorry, General Flamestar, but, um, you can't go."

"What?" Ash glowered at her. "I demand you tell me why."

"P-please don't take this wrong," the girl stammered, looking rather antsy. "It's just... Yelena doesn't... really like the royal family."

Storm blinked. Xenor's eyes narrowed. "And because she doesn't like the royal family, she... doesn't like the people close to them either." Tesarah gave Ash a pointed, apologetic look.

"Why did you not say this earlier?" With a click of her tongue, the general scowled. "If that is the case, how do you expect us to capture Slayen?"

"... I'm... not sure?"

"What!"

Storm glanced from Tesarah to Ash and back again. He couldn't register what was happening. Ash couldn't go? And more importantly...

Someone doesn't like the royal family? Someone doesn't like us?

His mind blanked.

... But why?

"Perhaps," Xenor began, speaking again after staying silent for so long, "this visit should be a scouting mission. Reconnaissance, if you will." A flick of his hand. "Brother and I will go. You will remain here, Ash." His words snapped Storm out of his daze and he blinked again, bewildered.

"What!" Ash stared at his brother. "Absolutely not, Your Highness Xenor. Utterly presumptuous! It will be too dangerous. We are talking about Slayen—"

"Precisely why Brother and I will suffice," Xenor snapped. "I said this would be a reconnaissance mission, did I not? I would prefer to do it by myself, but seeing how Ms Tesarah favours Brother so much, it would be best to bring him along, else communication will be tiresome." Face turning pink, Tesarah started to blubber something, then stopped and grew silent, clutching the sides of her dress.

"I understand, Your Highness. However—" Ash tried again.

"We will bring our own weapons." Gesturing for them to follow while wholly ignoring the general's statement, Xenor turned on his heel and began heading to the stairs. "Seeing how this Yelena Marisoix detests us, we will obviously need disguises to conceal our true identities..."

Xenor continued to list down the things that they needed to bring and do while ascending the stairs. Ash chased after him, remonstrating with him but to no avail.

Storm watched them go. Then he glanced at Tesarah, and saw that her eyes had rounded. She appeared to be at a loss for words, and silence quickly settled between them.

"... Shall we go?" he offered, motioning to the stairs Xenor and Ash just climbed.

The girl jerked, a sheepish smile crossing her face. She clasped her hands, wringing her fingers. A cough. "Sorry, I was just... I feel a little lost."

Storm felt the same way.

"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Ash muttered, sighing.

"It's just reconnaissance. We won't do anything dangerous. We'll be fine," Storm reassured, and gave the general a smile. She only sighed again, hunching and crossing her arms over her chest while wearing an expression of resignation. Xenor scoffed, rolling his eyes. Tesarah fidgeted, looking very much apologetic.

They were outside the bathroom, waiting for Rosemary to bring them the necessary garments for their disguises. When they approached the maid earlier, Xenor had launched into a brief explanation of their situation, before demanding she helped to find what they needed. He and Storm needed proper disguises that would easily pass them off as 'street children', he told her. They did not have time to dawdle.

Needless to say, Rosemary had been befuddled by their sudden request, but understood what they wanted and set to work immediately. And so they were waiting for her to return so they could change and be off.

Hurried footsteps, and they saw the maid rushing to them with different articles of clothing piled up in her arms and various footwear dangling from her fingers. "I apologise for taking so long, Your Highnesses!" she gasped out once she reached them. "These were quite difficult to find."

"It's okay, Rosemary. Thank you." Storm took the clothes from her and gave her a grateful smile. "Brother, here are—"

Before he could finish speaking, Xenor snatched the garments away and began looking through them one by one, frowning in distaste. He picked out a dark grey jacket, a hunter green tunic and a pair of black trousers, then shoved the remaining clothes back to Storm. An irritated growl, and he proceeded to enter the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Oh." Storm glanced down at the garments in his arms. As always, his brother was efficient and quick to act. Perhaps too quick... It frightened him at times, how rapid Xenor's pace was. He would never be able to keep up with that speed.

"Um, Storm, can I help you choose?" Tesarah asked then. There was a faint flush dusting her cheeks, and when he nodded his agreement, it darkened to a warm shade of rose. Setting down the pile on the floor, the both of them started looking through their options, and Storm smiled at how awed the girl looked when she commented on the quality of the materials.

Rosemary joined them a moment later. "If your mother were here, she would have started nitpicking at these clothes," she said softly, folding up the shirts that they were not interested in. "She had a very particular sense of fashion."

"Really?" Storm stopped his work and stared at the maid. His heart tightened at the mention of Liss and he had to force away the torrent of bloody images that poured into his mind, reminding him once again of how she died right before his eyes.

"Yes." Rosemary had a sorrowful smile on her face. "I think your father once told you about her pickiness, didn't he? She was so very fussy about everything."

"But she never meant any harm," Ash added from where she stood near them, "rather it was all out of the goodness of her heart." There was a wistful glimmer in her eyes when she said that. "I still remember the day Her Majesty first arrived here. The moment she saw His Majesty, who had come out to greet her, dressed still in his nightwear, she blew her top. By all the Spirits, her temper was ferocious! She made your father quake in his slippers and wail about how he was wrong to have chosen her as his fiancée." A humoured chuckle.

Laughing along, Rosemary patted the neat pile of clothes she had folded. "That was quite the entrance, wasn't it? She was so disappointed in His Majesty that she told me she wanted to drill proper manners and etiquette into him by giving him lessons every day."

"Indeed." Ash thumped her chest with a fist, grinning. "She earned my respect immediately."

Storm couldn't help but smile. Even thought it hurt to remember them, since they were gone, he enjoyed hearing about his parents' pasts and learning about new sides to them that they never displayed to him before. It was intriguing, learning about how his parents acted when they were young. How they interacted, how they developed. A story yet to be written down in history, known only by those who grew with them.

A merry, beautiful, innocent story.

Tesarah had stopped rifling through the clothes as well, listening with fascinated intent to the conversation. Taking it all in. There was a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes, and she glanced at Storm. When he beamed at her, she hastily dropped her gaze, ears turning pink.

"You are quite like your father, Your Highness," Rosemary stated then. He blinked at her, and she hummed. "Though I bet you've heard that many, many times, haven't you?"

"Well, yes..." Storm ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. Ashamed of himself. He still didn't understand how he resembled his noble father apart from their eyes. How were they similar, when he was nothing like Bayne? When he could never be anything like Bayne? It didn't make sense. It wasn't right.

It felt like a prestigious title that was placed upon his shoulders even though he didn't deserve it. Would never deserve it.

"And His Highness Xenor..." Rosemary was saying, tapping her chin with a finger. "His Highness Xenor greatly resembles Her Majesty, I would—"

The bathroom door slammed open and out stepped Xenor, dressed gloriously in the jacket, tunic and trousers he had chosen. He had apparently messed up his hair as well, making it even wilder than it was in the beginning. He paused when he saw them sitting on the floor. Squinted at them.

Silence. A rather awkward one, as Storm realised that he had yet to pick out his own disguise. When Xenor's lips began to curl into a scowl, he grabbed a random set of clothes and dashed past his brother into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him quickly.

Heaving a sigh, Storm gazed down at the set he had grabbed, and realised it consisted of a light grey hoodie, a blue shirt and a pair of brown cargo pants. It was a get-up similar to Xenor's.

... Would Brother get mad at me for this? he wondered, gingerly changing. He doesn't like it when we match...

While he was putting on his pants, he heard shouts coming from outside the bathroom. There was Xenor's voice, vitriolic as always, but with a hint of flabbergasted dismay. And there was Tesarah's, high and pinched with barely suppressed giggles.

What was going on? Storm hastened to tug on his pants, then dusted himself off, and after running his hands through his hair a few times to spike it up further like what his brother did, stumbled out of the bathroom.

Xenor was backing away from Tesarah while clutching his jacket in a protective manner, wearing an expression of such utter disgust that it would have made even the proudest man in the world feel ashamed of himself. The white-haired girl, however, was making bold attempts to snag his jacket, her cheeks puffed out as though trying to hold back her laughter.

Wait, why is Brother—? Why is Tesarah—? Storm blinked, staring blankly at the both of them. What's going on?

Tesarah noticed him then, standing outside the bathroom with much dumbfounded cluelessness. "Oh, Storm, you're done," she breathed out, looking him up and down. A brief pause. "Do you mind handing me your hoodie?" She held out her hands, innocence radiating from her face.

"Okay...?" Bewildered, Storm took off his hoodie and handed it to Tesarah. She stared at it for a moment, then dropped it on the ground.

And proceeded to step all over it.

Storm watched, his jaw dropping with undisguised horror, as dirt from her flats was smudged across the fabric in the vague shapes of scattered shoe prints, leaving it ruffled and soiled. An unheralded murder of cleanliness. Tesarah stepped off the trampled hoodie and examined her work. Was that the end of it? He hoped it was. Surely—

Tesarah stepped back onto the hoodie and began jumping and stomping on it.

A strangled squeak escaped Storm's throat as he witnessed the further mutilation of a hoodie that was once the epitome of casual perfection. Ash and Rosemary were frozen in a state of confounded incredulity where they stood watching together at the side. Even Xenor was motionless, evident numbness etched on his face while grasping his untouched jacket.

A moment later, Tesarah was done and picked up the ruined hoodie, withered to a tiny fraction of its former glory. Dusted it once, twice, three times. Then she gave it back to him with a pleasant smile, as though what she just did was completely fine. Completely normal.

"... Why did you do that?" Storm whispered, his voice hoarse. The hoodie in his hands felt different. An empty shell. Cold and broken. Gone. There was dirt and grime everywhere, staining its once pristine body brown and black like mud.

The girl tilted her head, genuine puzzlement on her face. "It was too clean," she said. "If it's too clean, it won't be... realistic."

"B-but did you have to do that?" Storm sputtered. What was he supposed to do with the hoodie? Was he supposed to put it back on? "How does this make it 'realistic'?"

Tesarah furrowed her brows. "You're going to pretend to be one of us, so it can't be too clean. That would be too suspicious." She stopped, pondering for a moment. Then she turned to Ash.

"General Flamestar, do you mind lending me your sword for a while?"

The general stared at her. "What! Absolutely not, Ms Starrod. It is dangerous." Hand darting up to the hilt of her rapier, she took a step further away. "What in the name of Argon are you thinking of doing?"

"I just need it for a while. Please, General Flamestar." Tesarah clasped her hands together. "I promise to be careful."

"I would advise against handing her your rapier, Ash," Xenor said then, eyeing the white-haired girl warily. "She is plotting something."

Tesarah turned back to Storm, who was still holding onto his hoodie, unsure of what to do with it. "Storm, can you help me?" she asked. "We need to dirty your brother's jacket too."

"... You can't be serious," Storm replied faintly.

"Did I not tell you that you will not lay your filthy hands on my attire?" Xenor snapped at the same time, bristling.

The girl only smiled. Upon seeing the sparkle in her turquoise eyes, Storm knew she was serious, and fully intended on destroying Xenor's jacket as well. But that was the same as having a death wish. His brother loathed getting his clothes soiled.

It would be an immediate ascension to the Great Soul.

Ash cracked her knuckles. "I may as well help you, Your Highness Storm, Ms Starrod," she declared, turning a predatory gaze onto Xenor. A grin. "Do not worry, Your Highness Xenor. This is all for the sake of ensuring better success."

"I do not recall this being part of the agenda—"

"I'm afraid it is now, Your Highness."

"You'll be able to wash up after this," Rosemary added cheerily, amused by the event unfolding before them. "It'll only be for a short while."

Xenor started backing away again, muscles taut and arms hovering in front of himself. "Absolutely not—"

"If my hoodie got trampled, your jacket will have to go through the same thing, Brother." Storm smiled at his vexed brother, waving his broken hoodie like a flag. "It's only fair—"

Xenor turned on his heels and started dashing away.

Storm, Tesarah and Ash gave chase while Rosemary cheered them on.

Ascending to the Great Soul suddenly seemed like the least likely scenario to occur.

Xenor looked for all the world ready to stab someone a hundred times over, then another hundred times for good measure.

Giving him an awkward smile, Storm hoped the person his brother wanted to stab was not him. Nor Tesarah. Nor Ash. Nor Rosemary...

Not anyone.

After spending a good half an hour chasing Xenor around the Palace, they had managed to catch him and, before his horrified eyes, defiled his jacket. It ended up looking worse than Storm's hoodie. The both of them were then made to put their respective outerwear back on (much to Xenor's extreme distaste). When they later went back down to the doors of the Palace to prepare for their departure, Tesarah had stopped them.

And told them to rub some dirt on their faces, pants and shoes.

Storm had reluctantly done it, but Xenor had been adamant and had cried out in outrage against it. Ash had to intervene, restraining him and allowing them to lightly dust him with dirt. It had been a torturous process, for his brother had glowered at them with the intensity of the burning sun as they patted grime on his cheeks and trousers. Once they were done, he had scowled down at himself, but fortunately said nothing else.

Rosemary gave them caps to hide their hair— their family's signature raven black hair, streaked with white, would give them away the moment they stepped out of the Palace.

So now there they were, standing at the gates of the Palace, looking as though they had been rolled across the earth and run over by horses. Xenor had tucked a pair of daggers into the sleeves of his jacket, while Storm had to shimmy a short sword down the back of his shirt. His hoodie helped to disguise the slight bulge it made protruding from his back, with the hood concealing the hilt.

It was uncomfortable, but it was the only place he could think of which could effectively hide his weapon.

"Remember, Your Highnesses," Ash said, her expression stern. "If you encounter Slayen, do not engage with him. This is a reconnaissance mission. Once you have completed your investigations, return immediately and report your findings. Understood?"

Storm nodded. His brother muttered an agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. The general patted their shoulders and stepped back, standing next to Rosemary. "Good luck, Your Highnesses," said the maid. An encouraging smile lit her features. "May the Guardian Spirit keep you safe."

Tesarah was waiting for them, and together they headed past the Palace's gates onto the bustling streets of Argon. The kingdom was as vivacious as ever, filled with colour and boisterous energy. Storm would have loved to take a leisurely stroll down the streets, soaking in the different sights and experiences. But he could not.

There was no time.

They moved swiftly with the white-haired girl leading them, Xenor staying at the rear and keeping an eye out.

Storm found himself matching his pace with Tesarah's. As they continued walking, she kept glancing back at Xenor, brows furrowed in a way that didn't suit her delicate features. She was bothered by something. Something related to his brother. "Storm," she whispered after a moment, "about your brother..."

"What about him?" Storm murmured back, peeking at his brother to see if he had caught onto their conversation. He had not, apparently, keeping his gaze trained on the people they passed by, green eyes narrowed to suspecting slits.

"I didn't want to bring this up earlier because we were busy but"— Tesarah took in a deep breath— "why is your brother acting like nothing happened?"

Storm blinked. "That year when he caught me," the girl said, pursing her lips. "Why is he acting like it didn't happen?"

So that was what had been bothering her. It was true that Xenor was acting as though he was meeting Tesarah for the first time, which was unexpected as Storm had thought he would explode and demand for her to leave at once... or force her to become his personal maid again. A shudder ran through him at the thought.

But Xenor was passive. Blank. Like none of the things he did to Tesarah happened.

And Storm didn't know why.

"... I'm sorry, I don't know why either," he admitted, averting his gaze away. "I can't tell what he's thinking."

"But you're brothers." Tesarah frowned. "Even if he is a... bad brother."

"He's not that bad of a brother." Storm gave her a wry smile. "I mean, I understand he did some terrible things to you, but... well... his reasons weren't immoral. He was just doing what he thought was the right thing to do." He picked at the strands of hair poking from underneath his cap, trying to push away the choking feeling that had formed at the back of his throat.

"And we might be brothers, but... sometimes it feels like we aren't."

Tesarah stared at him. He couldn't meet her eyes, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself. "He doesn't talk to me much anymore," he went on, awkward and feeling the need to clarify. "We don't do things together nowadays, not like before. So I don't know what he wants. I don't know what he thinks."

"... He wasn't always so mean?" the girl whispered, skepticism written all over her face.

"No— Well, not necessarily." Storm shrugged. He paused, reminiscing the days when his brother would throw prank after prank at his face and leave him a bawling mess. "He was more mischievous back then. He used to play pranks on me all the time, and I would get fed up with him. But now, he... he doesn't do anything. He doesn't say anything. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know why he changed so much..."

And he won't tell me.

At Tesarah's silence, Storm realised he had spoken too much. Too much about his own issues, his pains. Who was he to dump his troubles on her? She was suffering worse than he was.

Much, much worse.

"I, uh, I'm sorry, I was rambling," he sputtered, waving his hand dismissively. "It's nothing..."

"Why are you apologising?" Tesarah's brows had creased upwards, her eyes searching and concerned. "I don't mind listening to what you have to say. You have your own problems too." Another glance at Xenor, who stalked behind them while grumbling something about how crowded it was. "It's okay to let them out once in a while."

"But— It's just— Well..." Storm felt his cheeks burn.

The girl gave him a soft smile, a smile which made his insides flutter and his mind giddy. "It's okay," she soothed. "You can always—"

"If the both of you are done with your idle chatter," Xenor snapped from behind them, and they flinched. He was glaring at them, face dark with displeasure. "I believe we have reached the bakery."

Storm turned to the store that they were standing in front of, and realised that it was indeed the Marisoix Bakery after reading the retail sign above. It was a small two-storey building painted cream and alabaster, giving it a soft, friendly presence, the faint smell of pastries wafting out from the open door. There was a variety of breads and puffs on display, with little signs pointed at the different types indicating the range of prices. A crowd of people were milling around inside the store, making their respective selections and purchases.

"It's rather packed in there..." Storm mused, peering into the shop through the display window. They had been alright so far— no one had recognised them while they were walking. Seamless blending into the mass of people going about with their daily lives. But now that they had reached their destination and were going to be in close proximity with so many people, he couldn't help but worry.

Xenor himself seemed rather on edge, arms crossed over his chest, a galled grimace on his face. When a small family of five bounced out of the bakery after purchasing what they wanted, he immediately side-stepped away from them, watching them go with a wary gaze. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself, pulling down his cap so it further shadowed his face. A grumble, a huff.

"Brother, are you alright?" Storm asked. "You seem rather perturbed."

His brother growled, "Do not waste any more of our time by flapping that flippant mouth of yours. Let us get this over and done with." Pulling himself to his maximum height, he proceeded into the bakery, leaving Storm and Tesarah to flail after him.

Upon entering the bakery, they were overwhelmed by the distinct aroma of delicious bread being baked. It was a complicated smell— sweet and fresh and yeasty. The buzz of the customers around them piled in Storm's ears and made him fidget with much discomfort as they shuffled their way towards the counter. A few shoulder bumps, nudges, muttered apologies.

He checked on Xenor. His brother had hunched forward, lips pursed and fists balled. Brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and darting around, muscles taut. Like a cornered animal ready to pounce, seeking a way to escape his predicament.

They finally reached the counter, where a beefy, barrel-chested man with fair hair was acting as cashier, dressed in the clothes of a baker. "Cheers!" he exclaimed, voice deep and throaty and accented, as the customer he was tending to gathered up her bags and left the store.

"Ah, if it ain't Tes! G'day! It's been so long," the man boomed, eyes lighting up upon catching sight of them.

Tesarah waved shyly, edging closer to the counter. "Hello, Mr Brylanze. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but could we speak to Yelena? We're in a rush."

"'Course! I see you've brought some new friends, eh?" The man, Brylanze, looked Storm and Xenor up and down, scratching the thin beard growing from his chin. "Ya look like ya've been through a bloody rough time, mates. Want some bread? It's on the house."

Storm looked down at himself, at his scruffy shoes, ravaged hoodie, smudged skin, and felt his face burn. He was relieved since it meant their disguises were effective, but at the same time he was abashed. Did they really look that pathetic? "Oh, um, that won't—" he started.

"That'd be nice. Thank ya, mister," Xenor cut in, dipping his head, and Storm stared at him. Then did a double take.

Did Brother just change his way of speaking? And deepen his voice?

Tesarah was staring at Xenor too, her mouth open in flabbergasted wonder. Brylanze chuckled, a puissant sound that overpowered the din of the customers in the store. "Ya must be heaps hungry. I'll grab Yelly for ya, Tes, and y'all can catch up while I pack some goodies for ya to bring back home."

"Oh, ah, thank you so much, Mr Brylanze." The white-haired girl bowed, while the man laughed again. When he left, slipping into a room past the counter, Storm turned to Xenor.

"Brother," he hissed, "what was that?"

"I see that you are incapable of being specific," his brother snarked back, crossing his arms over his chest. He had returned to his original pitch and speech pattern, and Storm felt both relieved and insulted.

"I can be specific!" he huffed. "It's just... well... why did you change your way of speaking and deepen your voice?"

"How obtuse are you to not understand the significance of my actions?" Xenor growled, edging closer to the wall when a customer brushed past them. "We are disguising ourselves."

... Oh.

Storm finally understood. Xenor had done it to reduce the risk of them being recognised. Most of the people would have heard their voices before, especially after Slayen's failed execution, and that was why he had changed the way he spoke in order to further conceal his true identity while making it match his assumed appearance.

"It's just... it was so sudden, and..." Storm trailed off, shrinking into himself. The short sword he had slid into the back of his shirt rubbed against his shoulder blades, which caused more discomfiture.

"Tesarah!" came a young female voice, one which was startlingly familiar, and they saw a tall, lithe girl with yellow hair coming out from the room Brylanze had entered. Also dressed in a baker's attire, she was caked in flour, cocoa powder and icing sugar, splashed with water and egg whites. Her short, shoulder-length hair was tousled and her cheeks were blotted with red and blue food colouring. There were visible soot stains near her slate blue eyes which curved as she smiled. "It's been so long!"

"Yelena!" Tesarah gasped, a smile breaking out on her face as well. Yelena leaped over the counter and tumbled against the white-haired girl, pulling her into a hug.

"How have you been?" the baker girl squealed, gaze glittering with affectionate ecstasy. "Oh, hang on, I'm a bit dirty..." She used a cocoa-stained sleeve to clean her cheek. Dusted her apron. Tucked the right side of her hair behind her ear. "Done!"

Then she noticed Storm and Xenor, frowned, and took out a pair of glasses from her apron's pocket. After putting them on, she squinted at them. "I've never met the two of you before, have I?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Who are you?"

Tesarah stepped in front of them before either one of them could respond. "They're new!" she stuttered. "They've never been around here before because they came from another section... which they left. I found them a week ago and have been showing them around."

"So they're part of your group now?" Yelena seemed dubious, further scrutinising them. Xenor met her gaze, unflinching. Storm fidgeted, averting his gaze. He didn't want to cause trouble. Did the baker catch on to something? Had she seen through their disguises, which they had prepared with much agonising meticulousness? She was examining them with as much thoroughness as Rosemary when she cleaned their rooms.

"Mm, they're actually on... on trial." Tesarah's smile was tight. "We're seeing how well they can adjust, if they will be helpful..."

Yelena was silent. Thoughtful. Then she pointed at Xenor. "You, what's your name?"

Both Tesarah and Storm froze. They had forgotten to think of suitable names that would match their guises.

What are we going to do? Brother's going to get exposed. We're going to get exposed. We're going to fail— Storm's mind whirled, and he had to force himself to keep a straight face, schooling his features as much as he could without giving away his anxiety.

"... Zen," Xenor said, deepening his voice once again. It was gruff, tinged with distrust, and he tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head. His posture was lax, yet Storm could see that he was tense, jaw clenched. Green eyes dark and piercing, a silent challenge in their depths.

"Okay then, Zen." Yelena shifted her weight from one foot to another, eyes narrowing. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Storm blinked. Why did Xenor lie about his age? He was only fourteen, not sixteen. Were they supposed to lie about everything?

"How about you?" Yelena asked, pointing at Storm, and he flinched, unprepared. "What's your name?"

"I, uh, well—" Storm floundered, desperate to formulate something. But his mind was blank. Nothing came.

Is this it? Brother managed to cover himself, but me? I can't do this. I can't lie. How do I lie? What do I do? This is— I can't—

At the edge of his peripheral, he saw Xenor glowering at him, lips parting to say something. There was a spark.

"X-Xen!" Storm blurted. "I'm, uh, Xen."

Is this how I do it? Is this lying? Am I doing it right? Great Guardian Spirit, please help me—

"Zen?" Yelena's brows shot up, looking from him to Xenor, who looked about to choke someone. "Isn't that his name?"

"No, Xen! With an 'x'. We, ah, have similar names because we're brothers," Storm stammered. "I'm Xen... uh... Xen Nolava!"

"... Nolava?" The baker girl took off her glasses, ogling at him with an expression of complete bewilderment. "Is that your surname?"

"Y-yes!" He nodded vigorously, almost causing his cap to come flying off. He pulled it down firmly, even though his hands were trembling and clammy. "To make it easier, you can call him... uh, you can call him 'Zenny'." He pointed at Xenor, and was painfully aware of the lethal glare directed back at him, sending goosebumps up his spine.

"Okay...?" Yelena sounded dumbfounded, slowly tucking her glasses back into her apron's pocket. "And... how old are you, Xen?"

"Twe— Fourteen!" Storm choked out. He inched his fingers under his cap, then forced himself to stop and clenched his fists instead.

"Zenny and Xen Nolava..." Tucking away the stray strands of hair that had fallen over her face, Yelena stared at them for a moment longer. Storm hoped she was done with her questions. They were excruciating. Draining.

Lying was exceedingly difficult.

"Okay then." Yelena smiled, sticking out her hand. "Nice to meet the both of you!" They shook hands with her, and Tesarah, who had been watching at the side with bated breath, quickly dragged her out of the bakery to talk.

Storm was about to follow them when an enraged Xenor punched his bicep. Hard. "'Nolava'," his brother snapped. "Are you serious?"

"I just— I panicked!" Storm gasped, shrinking away. He gave his throbbing bicep a tentative rub, wincing as pain flashed through his arm. It was bound to leave a bruise. "It was the only thing I could think of. I don't know how to lie. You know I can't— you said for yourself that I'm a 'terrible liar'."

"Then why," Xenor flared, lips twisting into a menacing snarl, "did you have to spout such ludicrous nonsense? Even a roach with a tinier brain cell than you would be able to see that 'Nolava' is our family name spelled backwards."

"I didn't mean to— It just—"

"Were you attempting to be creative? Well, congratulations, you imbecile. You succeeded with a tenfold victory over every other idiot there is in this world."

Storm dropped his gaze to the ground. "And 'Zenny'," Xenor continued, voice full of heated venom. "To think that you would try to deride me with such a foolish nickname—"

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Storm?" Tesarah appeared before them then, whispering hurriedly. "Yelena will take us to see Minara. She just went to tell her parents." There was a pause when she noticed the strained atmosphere around them. "... Is everything okay?"

"It's... it's okay." Storm offered her a stiff smile. The girl glanced at a dour Xenor, who was muttering under his breath.

"If you say so..."

They waited outside for a few minutes, before Yelena exited from the backdoor. She had a basket in one hand and looked relatively cleaner, her hair combed and face washed. "These will be our afternoon snack." Opening the basket, she showed off an assortment of breads and puffs. Their combined smell permeated Storm's nose, and his stomach rumbled inconspicuously. It had been some time since breakfast. He was famished.

"Let's go!" the baker chirped, and moved through the alleyways at a swift pace.

Storm stared at Yelena's back as he followed from the rear. There was something awfully familiar about her, but he could not recall what it was. He knew it was recent. Brief, sudden. Her appearance, her voice, the way she spoke...

They had met before.

Is she...?

"Brother"— Storm turned to Xenor, who was striding beside him— "isn't Yelena the girl we saved during the fire last year?"

He finally remembered. The girl they rescued had been older than them and had yellow hair. Short, shoulder-length yellow hair. She had been tall and lithe and had an apron around her waist.

It was none other than Yelena.

It also explained the soot stains near her eyes. During the fire, she had been blinded by the ashes and could not see. As a result, her skin was left with dark, permanent marks— reminders of her incident.

"Congratulations once more." Xenor rolled his eyes. "You finally identified her. What a splendid performance. You deserve an award for your accomplishment."

"Wait, you already knew?" Storm gaped at his brother.

"Naturally. I recognised her immediately."

"... Oh..."

They continued on, Tesarah chatting with Yelena and occasionally turning to check on the two of them at the back. Storm gazed around, and saw a group of children watching them from behind a pile of crates. They were bedraggled and scrawny, their intense, wary gazes hinting at voracious appetites.

We are strangers here, he thought, pity flooding his chest as he took in their disheveled, malnourished states. Of course they'd be cautious.

A moment later, they reached a small open space. There was a little house made of wood and stone, a dilapidated structure that looked about to collapse at any minute. It also had a chimney, black smoke puffing out of it into the skies. Xenor's nose crinkled at the sight of it, and Storm could see the gears turning in his head on the best way to renovate it. Reinforce it. Restructure it.

What was interesting was the smell of iron in the air, and the feeble display of handmade metal wares sitting on makeshift wooden racks. The sound of tinkering and metal clanging drifted out of the house, becoming louder the closer they got to it.

Is this place a smithy? Storm wondered, glancing at the metal goods. His brother picked up an iron plate, turning it over in his hands. It was a silent evaluation of quality and skills.

"These are well-made," Xenor muttered, returning the plate to look at a pot. Storm blinked, surprised that his fastidious brother would declare such a thing. That meant whoever crafted them was truly a brilliant blacksmith.

"Karza!" Yelena hollered, kicking open the door of the house. "Tesarah's here! She brought new friends!"

Karza?

There was a scuffle within the house. Muffled words of consternation. An ear-piercing screech of metal. Two shouts— one was the voice of a young male, the other belonging to a girl.

Out dashed a blur of red, and Tesarah was tackled to the ground by a ragged, sinewy girl with fiery red hair. "Tesarah!" Minara cheered, tightening her embrace, and Tesarah laughed, returning the hug. A lean boy with rugged grass green curls stumbled out of the house, wielding a hammer.

It was Karza. Storm recalled seeing him during Slayen's failed execution, and wondered how he had forgotten him. The boy was the one who dragged Minara away from the execution platform before Ash could fully lose her temper.

So Minara was with Karza... They're rather close.

"Yo, Tes!" Karza grinned, his face smeared with soot and grime. He spotted Storm and Xenor, and his smile dropped. "Who're you?"

"They're Tesarah's friends! This one is Zenny." Yelena patted Xenor's shoulder. "And this one is Xen!" Storm received a nudge to his side. "They wanted to meet the both of you."

"Oh, really?" Karza's face brightened once more and he jogged over to them, thrusting out his hand. It was covered in more grime. Storm saw Xenor grimace. "Nice to meet ya, Zenny, Xen! I'm Karza Jewelsmith, 'prentice blacksmith."

They quickly shook hands. "That crazy girl over there's Minara! She's learnin' with me," the green-haired boy teased, and Minara responded by hurling a pebble at him. The four friends had a brief conversation, reunited again after so long. Storm heard laughs and saw smiles as they hugged each other. Tesarah looked so delighted to be with them, her cheeks rosy and smile wide. And Minara, who was Slayen's sister, who was possibly hiding him...

She did not look like a criminal. She did not look like someone who would hurt others for no particular reason.

It was a look of blissful innocence she was wearing. Someone who had yet to understand the meaning and standards of society's morality, following only what she thought was right; her own moral code.

There was a sudden noise from within the house, and Storm saw movement near the open windows. He edged towards it, intrigued. Was it an animal? Did Karza have a pet?

Peering into the house through the window, Storm looked down and saw a mess of broken iron and smithing equipment lying around. Scrap metal littered the floor, hazardous objects because of their crooked edges. How Karza and Minara manoeuvred around the place was beyond him.

"Who the fuck are you?" came a gruff growl, and Storm flinched. Shivers ran up his back as he registered the voice. Warning signs flashed in his mind as he saw a pair of feet. Scarred, burnt feet.

Slowly, slowly, Storm looked up.

And found himself staring into the eyes of Slayen.