"Tired of getting bullied and made fun of,
the younger brother vowed to become stronger,
so that no one would tease him any longer."

・ ・ ・

Storm found himself being fussed over by Zana Highwind, the Head Cleric, a few minutes later. He was in the Treatment Room, seated on a stool, and Zana was plastering bandages and patches all over his arms and head.

"Great Guardian Spirit, just what in the name of Argon happened that caused you to be so injured, Your Highness?" Zana sighed, shaking her head in disapproval as she touched up on her handiwork.

"Uhm... Brother... was a little rough during the sparring session today...?" he stammered, wincing at how uncertain his answer sounded.

Zana scoffed. "A little rough? Nonsense! He clearly overdid it," she exclaimed. "Just look at how many bruises you have! It's utterly ridiculous! And you're only five! He needs to have more restraint." She gestured wildly at the many bandages covering him, and he ran a hand through his hair, smiling sheepishly.

"It's not his fault. I, uh, aggravated him," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. Zana had been thorough with her work. He couldn't even see the skin on his arms, only starch white.

"I would very much like to know how that happened," Zana responded, folding her arms over her chest, raising a white brow questioningly.

Storm gulped. "Uh... I... threw my sword at him...? And it... sort of hit him in the face...?" He cringed.

Zana blinked, then burst out laughing.

"Your Highness, you actually threw your sword at your brother, and it hit him in the face?" she chuckled. Storm flushed, dipping his head in embarrassment. Then, Zana suddenly stopped, eyebrows narrowing. He wondered what she was thinking about.

"The sword hit him in the face..." she muttered. Her eyes widened in realisation. "Then, that must mean His Highness Xenor is injured too!" she cried out, jumping up from her seat.

Storm stared at her, bewildered.

"Stay right here; I'm not done with you yet, Your Highness." She pointed to his seat, with a rather firm look on her face. He merely nodded.

"Where would I be able to find your brother?" the Head Cleric demanded, quickly gathering up some medical supplies and tucking them into her coat.

"Uh... he might still be at the battle arena, but he could have also—" Storm was cut off when Zana turned on her heel and barrelled out of the room. "—gone back to his room..." he finished, sighing.

Leaning back against the wall, Storm picked at the bandages on his arms, feeling them itch. An image of Xenor's fists flashed through his mind, and he grimaced, slouching.

His head still throbbed with a dull ache, and he touched his temple, rubbing at the white material wrapped around his forehead.

I lost.

Storm clenched his fists, staring at the ceiling desolately.

I lost, and in the most stupidest way possible.

What in the world had possessed him to even fling his sword at his brother? Warriors did not throw their weapons at their opponents. Weapons could not move on their own.

They could not return to their wielders.

By throwing his weapon, Storm had left himself unarmed.

He was lucky his brother had dropped his daggers, or the beating he had taken would have been much worse.

He backtracked. What had he been thinking, and feeling, when he had been trying to defend himself against Xenor?

How scary his brother looked.

How terrifying Xenor's battle prowess was.

How frightened—

Something in Storm's mind clicked. Of course.

It was fear.

Fear had been what drove him to throw his sword.

Xenor had been like a beast, and in his fear-induced state, he had only thought of running away; to get as far away as possible from the terror and the danger. It was human instinct, when in the face of impending doom.

It was human instinct to survive.

He scratched the back of his neck, running a hand through his hair. Another sigh.

I am a coward.

He was timid. He was shy. He was weak.

I can never be like Brother. He's far too brilliant.

Xenor was a true prince. He was a prince who held himself with confidence and dignity, who had the skills and talents needed to rule a kingdom.

Storm wanted so much to be like him.

But it was impossible.

It was not meant to be.

Xenor stood still as Zana stuck a large patch on his forehead, over the bruise which had formed there. He rubbed it, and recalled how Storm's sword had smacked him. Great Guardian Spirit, it ached.

"There, all better now," Zana said, putting her hands on her hips. She smiled at him, and Xenor averted his eyes away. "If there's still pain, tell me. I'll fix you up right away. Is that alright, Your Highness?" The Head Cleric poked at the patch which she had put on.

Xenor nodded.

"I've got to get back to your brother. Don't overexert yourself, Your Highness. You should rest." Zana winked, and turned to go.

... Brother?

"Wait, Zana," Xenor cried out, before he could even sort out his thoughts. The Head Cleric paused in her tracks, and looked back at him, an eyebrow raised.

He fiddled with his fingers, staring at the ground. "Is Brother... alright?"

Zana looked surprised. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to ask. Then, a bright smile, and she took a toothpick out from her coat pocket and stuck it in her mouth. "Of course he is. I'm the Head Cleric, after all," she reassured. "I will heal all of the injured with the best of my abilities, so you need not worry, Your Highness."

Xenor sputtered, heat rushing up his neck. "Wh-who said I was worried?" he scoffed, looking away.

Zana chuckled. "I'll be taking my leave then, Your Highness. Remember to rest!" she told him, and left the battle arena.

Xenor sighed, scratching his cheek. He trusted Zana.

She was a renowned cleric, said to have perfectly healed every injury she came across. There had never been a single death in her cleric record. Even the clerics of Haksyu admitted that she was a prodigy in the arts of healing.

Storm would be well taken care of.

He jumped when a hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Ash. "Are you alright, Your Highness?" the general asked.

"Yeah," Xenor answered quietly. He clenched his fists.

I should go back to my room and rest. But...

"Ash, can we train more?"

Ash blinked, startled by his question. "Are you sure, Your Highness? Didn't Zana tell you to rest in your room?"

"Well, she did say that..." Xenor muttered, and scratched his cheek. "But I want to get stronger."

The general considered his answer for a moment, then gave him a proud smile, and nodded. "Very well, Your Highness. You can train with the new recruits."

Xenor grinned, and followed her as she headed back to the recruits she had been training.

There were fifteen of them, and they gasped when he approached. He smirked at them. He knew, from observing and analysing them before the mock battle he had with Storm, that they were all either nine or ten, a few years older than him.

"Prince Xenor will be joining us in training," Ash announced, and the recruits awkwardly bowed, their bodies stiff with tension. "We will be going through the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Your Highness, would you like to demonstrate what hand-to-hand combat is like?"

"Who will I be fighting against?" Xenor asked, confused. Ash gave him a sly smile.

"Why, me, of course," she declared. Xenor couldn't help but gape at her. "You did say you wanted to grow stronger. What better way than to practice with an expert? A dummy would be no good."

The general cracked her fists, and Xenor felt a trickle of doubt enter his mind, before he quickly wiped it away. He could not falter.

Not if he wanted to prove that he was the worthy one.

"Very well." Xenor nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. Ash gave him a thumbs-up of approval.

The recruits were gawking at him.

That was to be expected. He was going against the general of the Royal Army, after all.

Xenor took up his position opposite Ash. The general was removing her armour, revealing a white, sleeveless shirt and tights. He clenched his fists, flexing his fingers.

"Watch carefully," Ash told the recruits, and got into position as well. She waved a finger at Xenor.

"Come!"

Xenor launched himself at her, fists at his side. A right hook.

She sidestepped and countered.

He blocked it with his arm, and lashed out a foot— a roundhouse kick. Ash easily dodged that too, and grabbed his arm, pulling him forward. Xenor twisted, wrenching his arm away, and used the general's shoulder as a push-off, jumping over her.

Whirling around, Ash swung out her leg at him, and he ducked, before going in quickly towards her. She blocked the punch he threw at her, gripping his fist, and tossed him to the side, before aiming an uppercut at his chin.

He bent back, narrowly dodging the blow, and as he was about to swing at her, he caught sight of black and white.

Storm was at the entrance of the arena, staring at him with wide eyes.

His little brother's arms were completely bandaged up, his face covered in patches and more bandages. But he was fine.

Xenor stared back, momentarily forgetting that he was in the middle of a duel, until a fist smacked into his face, his arm was twisted behind his back and he was thrown to the ground.

"Ow!" he yelped, and grumbled as Ash pulled him up, chuckling.

"Now, what exactly was it that distracted you, Your Highness?" she asked, dusting his shoulders. Xenor pouted and hunched, glancing at Storm's direction. Ash followed his gaze, and spotted the younger prince.

"Perhaps you would like to talk to your brother?" she said, smiling kindly.

Xenor perked up, and dashed towards his little brother without another word. He heard Ash telling the recruits that he would no longer be training with them, and to remember the demonstration they had showed.

Yeah, maybe I'll rest later, he thought.

"Brother!" he called, and Storm flinched, blustering about. Xenor wrapped his arms around his younger brother, and embraced him tightly. Storm squeaked.

"B-Brother, I can't breathe..." he coughed out.

Xenor let go, and Storm choked, taking in deep breaths. "Sorry, little brother. How are you feeling? Are you okay?" he asked. His brother nodded, rubbing his arm.

"Were you watching me and Ash fight?"

Storm started, and lowered his head, pursing his lips. "W-well... I suppose I was," he murmured. "You were so cool, Brother. You were on par with Ash!"

Xenor saw admiration in his little brother's shining blue eyes. He felt a flush dust his cheeks, and grinned. "I know I'm cool. Though, she was probably just going easy on me," he mused.

"But still, you stood your ground against her! If it were me..." Storm trailed off, a saddened expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Xenor asked, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother. Storm sighed, looking ashamed of himself.

"If it were me fighting against her, I would have probably run away," he said softly, looking up at Xenor. "Just like when I fought you."

Wow, he's really negative.

"What're you talking about, little brother? You managed to land a hit on me. See?" Xenor pointed out, gesturing to the massive patch on his forehead.

"That was instinctive!" Storm protested. "I never intended to hit you. But because I did, you got mad at me..."

Xenor cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, about that..." he laughed, scolding himself for being so nervous. "I, uh, told myself before the match that I wouldn't allow you to land a hit on me. But it happened, and I... guess I just couldn't control myself." He cast his gaze to the ground, scratching his cheek.

"Sorry about that, little brother."

Storm stared silently at him for a moment.

"It's okay, Brother," he said. "I understand."

Xenor brightened, and pulled his brother back into another crushing hug. "Thanks, Brother!" Storm sputtered against his chest.

"By the way, you shouldn't think so negatively, you know?" Xenor advised, when he finally released his brother. Storm was trying to get back his breath. He looked stunned.

"You have to believe in yourself, little brother," Xenor went on. He ruffled Storm's hair affectionately. "I know that you can become strong."

His brother's eyes glowed, revealing astonishment and hope. "Really?"

"Of course! Well, not as strong as me, obviously," Xenor scoffed, smirking. Storm's expression fell, just the slightest bit.

"But, you definitely can become strong. Anyone can, if they work hard enough," he hurriedly added. His little brother looked indecisive, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

"So... I don't have to be a prodigious and cunning monster to be strong?" Storm questioned. Xenor shook his head. At that, his brother beamed, and he almost thought he was the bloody sun.

His smile was so bright.

"Thank you, Brother! I'll work really hard, I promise!" Storm squeaked, and hugged him. Xenor smiled softly, patting his brother's head.

And then he realised something.

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Huh?" Storm pulled away, looking confused.

"Do you really think of me as 'a prodigious and cunning monster'?" Xenor put his hands on his hips, frowning.

"Uh..." His little brother rolled his eyes skywards innocently.

Xenor smacked him upside the head.

Thunder clapped as the storm clouds rolled. Lightning streaked through the sky— a single, bright, jagged line in the darkness of twilight.

Below, an unyielding forest, standing tall and proud against the forces of nature. Lightning flashed again, illuminating brilliant green.

The winds howled. The storm grew stronger.

And when the lightning struck the ground, the green forest slowly began to turn grey.