Philip woke up quickly the next morning. He normally woke up around nine in the morning. Yet today when he looked out his window, it was only seven. He saw Oscar reading by candlelight in a chair by the window. Philip could tell that he wasn’t reading so much as looking out the window and to the mountains. The sun rose in the east, and Philip’s window faced south, so the room was dark due to the castle’s shadow. Philip got up and sat in a second chair next to Oscar. 

Oscar jumped and dropped his book. He relaxed as he recognized Philip and retrieved the book, not bothering to find his page and just setting the book down on a small table next to him.

“You scared me,” Oscar said. He grew up poor as the son of a widow. At least, he thought that his mother was a widow. Sariah was too ashamed of her husband to admit to Oscar that he only left, rather than died. The lie wasn’t harmful, after all, it was a safe bet that Oscar’s father was dead by then. The fact of the matter was that Oscar grew up a nobody. As a child playing in the woods, he had no idea that he would grow up to be the son of a king. He fantasized about it for sure, but daydreaming of being a prince never included death threats. It was only happy things. Most of all, he dreamt of having a father. He never knew he could feel joy and fear at the same time until Nicholas called him his son. Of course, it was in light of a threat against his life, but it still gave Oscar the one thing he always wanted but never had, and that was a father.

“Did you sleep at all?” Philip asked. He stretched and yawned. In truth, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Of what sleep he got, much of it was rough and useless to supply him with energy throughout the day.

“No. I assume you didn’t either?” Oscar replied. Philip shook his head. 

“What do we do now?” Philip asked. “There’s not much in the way of entertainment.”

“How are you thinking of entertainment at a time like this? We shouldn’t even be sitting here. What was I thinking?” Oscar stood up and closed the drapes, it made the room much darker, but it gave Oscar some sense of safety. “Someone could shoot an arrow or a crossbow bolt through there.”

“You’re not taking everything my father said seriously, are you?”

“Of course I’m taking it seriously! Someone could kill us at any moment! Frankly, I prefer being alive right now.”

Philip stood up and put his hands on Oscar’s shoulders, then guided him down to his seat. “Oscar, calm down. There are guards keeping an eye on us and everything around us every minute. My father has a lot of practice with this.”

“There are no guards in this room, Philip.”

Philip chuckled. “You think so? There are two in the closet, one in that chest, another two at the door, Two behind the drapes, and one in every hiding place you can think of. I’m surprised you didn’t see them in the drapes.”

Oscar stood up and went to each of the places Philip named. Sure enough, there were two behind the drapes, one in a chest, two at the door, and three in the closet. Philip was notably surprised at the extra. Oscar was only surprised he didn’t see the two at the door. They were inside the room in plain sight, but they were standing so still and had come in the previous night so quietly that Oscar hadn’t seen them.

“How?” Oscar asked.

“My father was the most protective human being in all four kingdoms for years. He eventually learned how to keep me safe without making me feel so watched all the time. It was a good few days when I thought there was no one, then I found my father’s hiding spots one by one until there was nowhere I hadn’t looked. Under the bed, there should be a couple.”

Oscar checked under Philip’s bed for the fun of it and saw a couple of men there as well.

“I’m doomed,” Oscar said, sitting on the bed. Philip sat next to him.

“How come?”

“I didn’t see any of them! There could be a blood-thirsty murderer in here and I wouldn’t know until I’m dead!”

“Oscar, it’ll be okay. I promise. This man is going to try, fail, and then hang. And it’ll be over.”

“I’m sorry, Philip. I am. I was just a little frightened is all.”

“I’m scared, too. And I will be for a while. It’s going to be a long month. I have a deck of playing cards. My father and I used to make up games with them. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun? We’re going to die and you’re thinking about fun?”

“Oh come on, Oscar. We’re going to be fine.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident.”

“Oscar, if we’re going to be stuck here for a few weeks I suggest we find a way to keep busy. I like books in small amounts. I’ll read for an afternoon once or twice a month, but do you honestly expect me to sit down with a stack of books and read for days and days on end? We need something fun and engaging.” Philip stood up and opened his closet, forgetting about the guards there. “Excuse me, gentlemen, If I could reach behind you for a bit,” the guards nodded and moved aside, Philip took a small sack out from his closet and dumped the contents onto the bed.

“There we are. Plenty of things to do.”

Oscar looked at the five items, seemingly disappointed. “So we have a ball, a bit of string, wooden blocks, playing cards, and a doll? What kind of childhood did you have?” Oscar said, rifling through the items.

“I admit, it’s not impressive. Well, what did you have growing up?”

“I had- uh, a stick. And some mud, and the trees and rocks and the woods.”

“Any friends?”

“No. I was weird. I made up my own stories. I could be out for hours playing pretend in the forest. I remember going exploring and banging my stick on all the trees and climbing all the rocks. It was a lot of fun.” Oscar sighed. “I kind of miss it.”

“Kaesga?”

“No, I can always go back to Kaesga. I miss being a kid. There’s no judgment when you're a kid, there are people who think they’re better than you, but you just don’t care. I miss it. Not caring.”

“I wish I had something like that to miss. My father’s been worried about me since I was born. My best friend was him and my uncle’s cat.”

“Joshua’s your uncle?”

“No, but he’s my father’s best and only true friend. He might as well be family. I’ve always cared. My father’s always been so worried that I’ve never been able to not care.” Philip and Oscar were quiet for a moment. “Well then, should we start playing?”

“As long as you promise that over the next month, we won’t care,” Oscar said.

“I promise.”

~ ~ ~

Nicholas sat back in his chair, utterly annoyed. He looked out the window and chewed on his fingers. He stopped himself and looked at his nails. They had been growing back and were getting a bit long. He wasn’t used to having long nails. He had bitten them constantly until about a year ago, after the siege. He promised Philip that he wouldn’t worry so much. He had gotten better and eventually did not need to chew on his nails in nervousness any longer.

Until now. He convinced himself that his reason for worrying was a valid reason and kept gnawing on his nails.

“Sire, we need to keep doing the paperwork. It’ll never get done if you keep distracting yourself with this. . . predicament.”

Nicholas slammed his hand on the desk hard, he didn’t mean to be angry, and he didn’t want to be angry. He knew Joshua well, and he knew that it was difficult for him to feel emotions. To Joshua, duty came before emotional well-being.

“Joshua, do you consider the threat against my son’s life a ‘predicament’?” Nicholas said, keeping an angry tone in his voice that he didn’t even mean, it was just there. He didn’t look Joshua in the eyes, he kept staring at his desk.

“Well, I did, until you said that the way you did. Now I’m not so sure. But isn’t that what it is? A predicament is an unfortunate circumstance. And right now, we are in an unfortunate circumstance.”

“Joshua, the threat is an ‘unfortunate circumstance’. If whoever made the threat follows through and murders Oscar and Philip, it would not only be a predicament as you say, it would be a tragedy.”

Joshua nodded. “It isn’t a tragedy now though. It’s still only a predicament.”

“Joshua, my sons could die. And they know it. They’re scared. They don’t want to die. They can’t sleep, they can’t eat. They’re terrified. Watching them huddled up in their room, jumping at the tiniest peep, and keeping their eyes wide in a dark room makes my skin crawl. And to see them dead, after being so afraid for so long, the thought of their bodies mangled on the ground makes me shudder.” Nicholas’s eyes widened. The boys were only aware of the threat for a few hours, but he had terrible nightmares the night before and they gave him these fear-filled images. He stood up quickly and left out the door. “I’m going to go check on them,” he said as an excuse, then left.

Joshua stood up and chased him out the door. “Your highness, I’m sure the boys are alright, now please, if you could only direct your attention to more pressing matters-”

“More pressing than the life of my son?”

Joshua was quiet. “Well, uh, no, but they’re still important.” Nicholas stopped in his tracks and looked back at Joshua.

“Please, Joshua, forget about the protocol for a moment. Consider my family. Oscar and Philip are afraid right now. I’m afraid for them. They’re everything I have. I want them safe.”

Joshua stood still and watched as the king ran off down the stairs and into his son’s bedroom. He followed behind quickly.

Oscar and Philip jumped as the door flung open. The two guards standing by the door glanced at the king, recognized him, then remained perfectly still. The two boys had been playing with the multiple things that were in Philip’s bag. They had built a short tower and ramp out of the blocks and a book, and they had draped the string over the top of the tower. The ball was on the ground, rolling away. The doll had been cast aside. Oscar jumped notably further than Philip had and knocked over this flimsy tower.

Oscar and Philip had created a game with the playing cards and this arrangement. The object was to knock over the tower with the ball. The playing cards were to make it harder, as you had to play a certain card to get a chance at the tower.

The two boys recognized the king easily but still had quite the scare. Philip, coming out of the shock quicker, leaned after the escaped ball and grabbed it in his right hand, having to twist awkwardly to do so.

“Oscar, you’re supposed to use the ball.”

“Do I still win?”

Philip chuckled. “No, now help me build the tower again.” Philip and Oscar built the foot-high tower again in only a few minutes, then turned their attention to Nicholas.

“You boys look like you’re well entertained. How are you holding up?”

“We’re scared, that’s for sure,” Philip said. “But, it hasn’t been too bad. I found some things and we’ve been entertained fairly well.”

Nicholas sat next to the boys on the ground. “I’m not too busy,” Joshua, behind them, completely lost his docile state. He remained quiet, but threw a bunch of papers in the air and stormed out of the room, mumbling. Nicholas turned back to watch this and laughed. “You know Joshua, so focused on schedules and protocols. First things first.”

“Father, you’re the king. You need to be king. You can go and be king,” Philip said. Nicholas put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“Part of my duties as king is to be sure that there is a suitable heir when I’m gone, so being with you is part of my job.” Nicholas smiled and patted his son’s shoulder. “Now then, what have you two been up to?”

Oscar responded, “Not much. Neither of us could sleep. But we haven’t been too scared-”

Philip scoffed. “Says the man who’s been going around pulling drapes and dulling any sharp ends.”

Oscar laughed back. The two had begun bantering with each other, which was strange considering how normally two people locked up in the same room tended to go a little insane rather than grow closer. “Drapes, yes, sharp ends, not so much. But I eventually calmed down. We’ve made up a really fun game.”

“What is it?” Nicholas asked. He could almost feel Joshua’s frustration behind him. While Joshua was not behind him, it made his presence no less real. “I have to deal with Joshua, so make it brief. I’ll be back around lunch, about an hour or so.”

“Well, it’s not that complicated in reality. You start with twelve cards,” Philip said. 

“Why twelve?”

“We don’t know. It’s a nice even number,” Oscar answered before continuing, “Anyway, you have twelve cards and there’s a two of every suit on the ground. Aces are the highest. The goal is to take turns placing a card that is one higher number of the same suit on top of the other. If you play an ace, you get to try and knock the tower down. If you can’t play, you draw a card. The goal is to knock the tower down.”

“And if you run out of cards?” Nicholas asked.

Philip glanced at Oscar. In truth, they hadn’t played that far yet. They had played two games, and every time one of them had knocked over the tower before one ran out of cards. “I guess, you would draw ten more,” Philip said.

“Why ten?”

“If you’re playing with a lot of people, I assume ten will be all that’s left. And if you run out again, you go down to eight. And if you run out of cards so many times, you get down to two and then none, you lose.”

“What happens to the stack after you put an ace on it?”

“It dies,” Oscar said. “You can’t play with it, and it won’t be much use in the draw pile if it’s all one suit. So it becomes null.”

Nicholas stood up. “Have fun with your game. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Oscar and Philip nodded as Nicholas left the room. He stopped at the door.

“And please,” he said before leaving. “Stay safe. This will end in a month or two, and light some torches. It’s too dark in here.” Nicholas closed the door and left. He found Joshua sitting at his desk, going over reports from the lords around the kingdom with a quill. Nicholas had entered quietly, and fairly unnoticed.

“Oh, Anthony, I am beginning to wonder if you know how to write,” Joshua said while scribbling something out, and then replacing it with a note. Without looking up, Joshua added, “How’s your son?” Nicholas took his seat behind his desk.

“I still don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?” Joshua asked, finally glancing up at the king.

“Everything. You never get distracted, you can hear me from across the country, and you’re so... Joshua.”

“I am very good at being Joshua. It’s a talent of mine. Now please, do your work. It makes me crazy when it's not done.” Nicholas shook his head in wonder and turned down to the multiple papers stacked on his desk. It was everything from financial reports, to requests, to…

That note.

The thing sat on his desk, looking up at him and mocking him. It was written on old and slightly burnt parchment. It was brownish-orange and grimy in texture, unlike the papers on his desk. The others were white and gleaming, that note was dark in color and aura. It had a dark essence around it.

Nicholas picked up the note and felt it partially crumble in his hands. He read over it and felt the pain and fear stabbing at his heart. Joshua saw the way he held the paper and sighed.

“If it would make you feel better, I was up last night researching the unique way that Langdon has so many different climates and-“

“Joshua, I know that Langdon is beautiful. Please, just let us be silent for a moment, I’m not entirely in the mood for a conversation right now.”

“You don’t understand, my Lord. I know where that note came from.”

This perked Nicholas’s interest. He looked up at Joshua with keen eyes. “Where?”

“The coast. The paper was obviously from the coast, you can tell by the grime and taste. If I had to guess, I’d say the southern coast. They have more agriculture and more livestock, so it's easier to get a hold of parchment there than it would be in the north.”

“Are you positive? Completely sure?”

“Not entirely, but mostly, yes. The paper is definitely from the coast.”

“We’ll send men to arrest this scum now.” Nicholas stood to give the order but was stopped by Joshua.

“Please, sire, we don’t know who sent it and there are nearly a hundred miles of coast, not to mention islands and peninsulas. It’d be impossible to find one dangerous man. And he may not even be on the coast anymore, he may have moved inland, toward the castle.”

Nicholas sighed and sat back down. “I guess we’ll go back to plan A--wait for him to come to us.” Nicholas sat with his head on his fist and drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go check on the boys and take a nap.”

Joshua reluctantly nodded. Nicholas stood and left the room, a hand to his forehead to soothe a dreadful headache.

Joshua sat by himself and looked over the bustling city below. It was strange. Philip loved going out into the city. He did it almost every day after the siege and after he was healed. Would the people down there even know that their prince was threatened and was being put under guard again? Would they care? Joshua shook his head in despair. So was humanity. They say they care, and they pretend to care in front of others, but at their core, there was no love in them. It was almost like you were programmed at birth with a set amount of caring and that couldn’t be changed. Why couldn’t it change? Why couldn’t people just suddenly care for each other?

Maybe they should have no choice. Maybe they should be like animals, programmed with raw primal instinct without any way to make choices other than how to survive. Maybe then the pitiful humans below him would feel love towards each other. They would better understand why to be kind if kindness was their only way to survive in the hostile world. 

But, maybe there was something to hold on to. It was a sad thing, but sometimes the worst people were the loudest. There are a hundred mediocre people for every one bad one, but the mediocre people never had a story told. Only the bad person. Maybe everyone’s story should be told. Everyone has a story. Maybe, if everyone’s story was told, the world would at least seem like a bit of a better place to be.

Joshua’s eyes caught the mountain of paperwork on Nicholas’s desk. With an exasperated sigh, he returned to it.

Philip smiled as his father tucked the blankets around him. He liked the feeling of being all snuggled up warmly in bed. True, it gave him bad memories, but it was a comforting feeling. The bad memories it gave were repelled by his father’s presence.

“Father, you know Oscar and I are playing our game tonight. I’m just going to get right back up,” Philip said. Since the boys didn’t entirely need to wake up and do things the next morning, they saw no point in going to bed early and planned to stay up for a few hours.

“I know. I guess it just makes me feel more like a father to tuck you into bed at night. Like when you were young.”

Philip gave a little laugh at the memories. He smiled and sat up in bed, engulfing his father in a hug.

“I love you, good night.”

Nicholas returned the embrace and sentiment. He squeezed his son’s frail body a bit tighter and let him go back down onto the bed. He glanced at his son for a moment, the boy was still recovering from the siege on the castle a year ago, and the terrible torture imposed on him during that time. His face was still sporting a few scars, and his left hand would be crippled for the rest of his life. He still feared water. Most often, he was dehydrated and got all the liquids he needed from milk and juicy fruits. During the winter, he was slightly better off and sucked on ice cubes to receive water in his body. He bathed, but not without some level of fear, and water was never more than room temperature. 

The idea that someone wanted to harm him again was too much for Nicholas. It drove him mad.

“Are you hungry?” Nicholas asked.

“Not really.”

Nicholas turned to Oscar, who slept in a chair by the window. The drapes were closed, but it made the room much too dark and prevented the air from circulating, making the air stuffy and hot as well as dark. 

“What about you? Do you need anything, Oscar?”

Oscar shook his head in a negative response. He was perfectly content. He had a large, fluffy blanket and the chair he was in was extremely comfortable. He also wasn't too hungry. If food was in front of him, he’d eat, but at the moment he was fairly sated. 

Nicholas nodded, looking between both boys. “All right then, now if you two need anything, from food to a hug, I’ll be upstairs in my office. Send Jacob.” Nicholas motioned to one of the guards by the door, who bobbed his head briefly. Philip and Oscar nodded in understanding.

“Okay then, I’m going now,” Nicholas nervously backed out of the room and again closed the door.

Philip and Oscar waited only a few seconds before springing up to play their game. Strangely, both boys still enjoyed it even after hours of playing. The game had mutated and became even better. As an example, the boys no longer took turns but instead placed and drew cards whenever possible or necessary. This made games quicker, but more competitive.

About an hour into playing, they heard a noise. It was faint and only barely crept into their consciousness. But it was there. It was almost like the sound when they opened the curtains. It was the sound of the fabric against the rod.

They ignored the noise. The multiple guards in the room either didn’t hear it or didn’t consider it important enough to dwell on. 

Regardless of this seemingly insufficient interruption, Philip and Oscar continued to play their game long into the night. It was nearly two hours into the night that the guards changed, one by one, a guard came out of his hiding place and left the room, replaced only a second later by another guard that took the place of the old one. In the case of the guard in the seater's chest, who had to crumple himself into a very small and uncomfortable position for hours, the new guard looked hesitant, and the old one looked relieved. However, all the soldiers in the kingdom were well-familiar with the prince, and would gladly give their lives and comfort to keep him and his step-brother alive one more precious day.

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Oscar said during one guard rotation. One guard in question was standing next to the door, looking into the room.

“Maybe because the window’s open,” he said in a thick and rough accent.

Both Oscar and Philip turned to see the window and stood staring at it. The drapes were pulled wide apart and were blowing a bit in the wind.

“Did anyone open the window?” Philip asked. He had sworn it was closed an hour ago.

There was a responsive negative grunt from all in the room, even Oscar shook his head when Philip looked at him. Jacob—whose shift has not yet ended—offered to close the drapes and received a positive answer from the two teenagers.

Jacob put himself in the middle of the window and began to tug the drapes closed. But he paused.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked.

Jacob leaned out the window a bit and squinted at an uncertain shape in the darkness.

“There’s something down there, it might be a person, maybe only a guard. He has a... Recurve bow? No, a cross-” Jacob never finished. He was thrown back by the force put into the bolt that landed in his chest. His body, covered in blood and dead before he hit the ground, skidded on the floor and landed between Oscar and Philip. It stared unseeingly into nothing, but the two boys stared at it, not seeing death in Jacob, but their own descending upon them.

With a flash of light, two men appeared in the room. One held a crossbow and was dressed ruggedly, the other was dressed a little better with a long cloak. This cloaked man was a little taller and had brown hair and eyes, typical for Langdinion people. His companion had much longer, unkempt hair, and was less brain than muscle in this duo as he held the crossbow.

“Kill them,” the cloaked man said, pointing at Oscar and Philip. The rugged man stepped forward and pointed the bow directly at Oscar’s nose, only a foot away. Oscar stared down the shaft helplessly, not daring to even move. His eyes caught the gleaming point of the crossbow bolt, and he felt his life slip out of reach.

But Philip was quick enough to dive for Oscar and push him to the floor as the bowman fired. The bolt thudded harmlessly into the wall. 

Three guards filed from the closet, one stumbled out of the seater chest, two that were previously behind the drapes of another, closed window, and the one remaining at the door ran to intercept this newcomer. The two ruffians were now faced with six armed opponents. The one guard that was at the door ran to Philip and Oscar, he asked them if they were all right, and received a nod from Philip and a dazed stare from Oscar.

“He’s fine, just shocked,” Philip whispered. The one guard hurried them into a corner and handed Philip a dagger.

“If this goes for the worst, which it probably won’t, I don’t want the two of you to be defenseless.”

“Someone should get my father,” Philip said. He said it almost too loudly, as the taller man heard.

All seven of the guards felt themselves being forced back and up, into a tight bundle and tied together. The tall man was moving his fingers and hands as part of an old instinct inside of him, Philip watched with wonder. He had heard of sorcerers but had never seen one. Fortunately, his mind returned to reality and began to fear.

“Are we going to die?” Oscar asked behind him. “Tonight? Does it end tonight?”

Philip looked back at his brother, in truth, he wasn’t sure. He thought it would be the end, but he wanted to be hopeful. He gripped the knife in his hand.

The guards fell as one, tightly bound together with a thick layer of rope. The tall man looked around and kicked Jacob’s body.

“I knew you were a fine shot, but looks like a little magic helped,” he said, running over the dead remains. He grabbed the bolt at the base against the body and tugged it out without remorse.

“It might need some cleaning, but it should be good for another round,” the tall man said, handing the bolt back to his companion while the tip was dripping with Jacob’s blood. The bowman took the bolt and wiped it clean with a cloth. The sorcerer turned to the living guards, disregarding the dead one.

“Now, what to do with them?”

“We could kill the boys, then get out of the country,” the shorter one said. He had an accent from some part of the country Philip didn’t recognize, it was Langdonion, but he didn’t know where in Langdon. It was rough, that was all Philip could tell.

“No, they’ve seen our faces. They’ll tell that king and we’ll be hanged for sure.” The sorcerer drew a long and gleaming sword. “I have an idea.” Without care, he slashed at a guard, who fell dead, taken completely by surprise.

Seeing a helpless man struck down dead, one that died to save him, Philip was filled with anger and ran toward this sorcerer. He was scared, but he knew that killing the guards was wrong, they had stood no chance against the sorcerer, and it was not their fault they were defeated. He had a little training with the sword, he could fight with a dagger, but it couldn’t be that different, right?

“Ah, our little prince,” the sorcerer said, turning. He motioned to the crossbowman. “Kill him, and this time, hit him right between the eyes.”

The bowman nodded and aimed. Philip stood his ground, the guards were begging him not to hide, or even to run to his father, but Philip would not show cowardice, not again.

Before the bowman could fire, Oscar put himself into the path, confusing the bowman and delaying the fire.

“Two birds with one stone. You make it too easy.”

“You don’t have to kill us,” Oscar said. He had no idea what he was saying, he was just saying it. “You could hold us for ransom instead. The king would pay a great deal of money for us.”

Philip was embarrassed and was doubting everything Oscar was saying. Until he saw the reasoning. It was either die now or be held prisoner until his father paid for their lives and the criminals had their moments with money. Then they would be tracked down and hanged for their crimes.

Philip was sure it wouldn’t work, but then he saw the sorcerer thinking about it. 

“How much money?”

“My father values those he loves over anything,” Philip said. He just wanted to live another few days. He only hoped the ransom was reasonable. He knew his father would do anything to have him back, especially if Nicholas knew he was alive.

“It’s a good argument,” the sorcerer said, but it was obvious he had already given in to the request. “Tie them up,” he said to the shorter man. He forced the two boys to stand away from him and tied their hands tightly behind their backs while the sorcerer went to Philip’s desk and began writing the ransom note. When the shorter crossbowman reached Philip, he saw the dagger and took it rudely away before pulling the restraints tight. Both boys immediately felt their hands go slightly numb from the lack of circulation.

“Could you use this?” the bowman said, throwing the knife at the sorcerer. The sorcerer caught the weapon with magic, harmlessly stopping the spinning motion and grabbing it by the hilt.

“I could,” he said. He lifted his paper, read over it again, and smiled. He glanced around the room, walking around without any real destination. “Now where to put it,” He said. He glanced at the two boys, tied so tightly that there was no hope of escape for them. He then glanced at the guards. “I was planning on leaving a note stabbed into the prince’s body, but I guess they will have to suffice.” the sorcerer watched as fear poured into the eyes of the guards.

The sorcerer gave them a heartless grin and looked at his companion.

“Kill them. All of them.” 

The sorcerer’s henchman picked up his crossbow and shot one of the guards in the chest, he died after about ten seconds of gagging and spluttering and yelling in the most horrendous pain. Then he fell silent.

The two men panicked as they heard footsteps running down. Someone had heard the last guard die and was coming.

“You fool! Use your sword! Kill the others! And be quick!” The Sorcerer yelled. He used magic and held his hand out to the desk, he spread out his fingers and brought them down into a claw, then flung it towards the door just as it opened.

Philip happened to look toward the door to see his father, fear filled his eyes and he saw his father begin to try and run to save him, but the desk, spilling papers, quills, and ink bottles as it went, crashed into the door and held it closed.

Unfortunately for Nicholas’s mind, the next guard to die made a horrible, bloodcurdling scream. He doubled his efforts to get inside, thinking the sound had come from his son.

Multiple soldiers and Joshua rushed to help him, but when they were able to flood into the room, what they saw was a dark massacre. The drapes were still blowing in the wind, and all of the guards, every single one, were scattered around the floor, each in their puddle of blood.  

“Check for survivors,” Nicholas said. He had thoroughly scanned the room and concluded that there were eight bodies, none of them were his children. They were gone. They could have been killed, and their bodies dragged away.

“Nicholas,” Joshua said. The voice and the term didn’t align in Nicholas's mind. Joshua never called him by his name. Joshua used his title. Even when they were young, Nicholas couldn’t remember hearing his given name from Joshua. “Nicholas,” Joshua said again. Now Nicholas turned back to him.

“What is it, Joshua? Can’t you see that my sons have been murdered and their bodies have been taken away from me? Can’t you see that I’ll never see my son again? That I’ve spent my entire life trying to keep him safe and now he’s dead?” Nicholas turned toward Joshua and shouted, “Are you blind?”

Joshua recoiled a pace, but once he had composed himself, he gestured to the bed. “There’s a ransom note, my lord. Your sons are alive.”

Nicholas felt his heart lighten and hastened to the bed. The note was stabbed into one of the posts on Philip’s bed. Nicholas took it into his hands and read it to himself.

To his Kingship,

Before you raise your hopes, know your sons are not well. They are only alive due to the prospect of money. They will be kept barely alive, almost to the point where they might as well be dead.

A ransom for the boys will be a hundred million centies. If it is not paid in a week, your sons will be hurt, for two weeks, and I will chain them up and stop feeding them. Three weeks and I stop giving them water. A month and they will be dead.

Nicholas dropped the paper onto the bed and sat in a chair, in tears. The rest of the note was merely instructions on where and how to leave the money. Joshua picked up the paper and read over it, he too dropped the paper and looked to the king.

“Nicholas, I’m so sorry. You know-”

“Joshua, if the next thing you say is about grammar or math, or anything insensitive, just don't say it. Don’t say anything.”

Joshua fell silent, then turned to the soldiers in the room. “We should leave him alone.” 

Joshua ushered the men out of the room and shut the door gently behind himself. He didn’t know what he was going to do after that until he got an idea.

An hour later, he opened the door a crack and shoved a large, orange fluff ball into the room, closing the door behind him.

Nicholas glanced down as the cat came straight toward him, rubbing at his ankles and staring up at him. Nicholas lifted the cat and dug his fingers into his fur. The cat was so soft, and his fur was so long that he seemed to make everything better. Fredric enjoyed the rubbing and rolled over in Nicholas’s lap, allowing Nicholas to feel and rub the cat’s softer belly.

“Why would someone just take them away?” Nicholas asked the cat. Fredric only began purring loudly. Nicholas felt the cat’s throat and the gentle vibrations there. “And the ransom, I would give my right arm to see my boys alive and well. But Langdon doesn’t have a hundred million centies. Not in the whole of the country. That much money just doesn’t exist. So I guess that’s it. Philip and Oscar die in a month, the whole time praying that I’ll save them when there’s nothing I can do.”

The cat merely continued to purr, it had nothing it could say on the matter. Nicholas looked up at the bodies strewn on the ground. 

“Eight men? All armed, dropped dead like flies? How?” Nicholas asked the cat. It didn’t make sense to see so many bodies. “There must have been a dozen of the kidnappers if that. Philip was so scared. When I saw him, right before the door was shut, I saw the fear in him. He was terrified. His hands were tied behind him, I can’t unsee it.”

Nicholas blinked and felt a few tears escape from his eyes and slide down his cheek in the dark. Fredric rolled over and propped himself up on Nicholas’s chest, licking at the salty tears on his cheeks. Nicholas only used the cat’s soft fur as a handkerchief. He wiped his tear-filled eyes on the cat, who didn’t appreciate the gesture and licked the tears on his fur.

“It was just like when Philip’s mother died. With the look on her face, she knew she was going to die. Philip had that look. My poor little boy.” Nicholas collapsed into tears and felt Fredric’s sandy tongue again on his face. 

“You are a good little kitty. Oh, Fredric, you just have a way of making things better.” Fredric stepped down, finding no more tasty salt droplets, and curled up on Nicholas’s lap to sleep.

“Now what do we do?” Nicholas glanced up to see light pour into the room again, he saw a woman run in, saw her glance around at the death and destruction around her, and raise her hands to her mouth, aghast at the blood. Nicholas stood quickly and took his soon-to-be wife in his arms. He consoled her as she sobbed on his chest and guided her to a seat. Sariah continued to cry for a long while. Nicholas saw his wife so distraught and suddenly lost his feelings of immense sadness to losing his two sons. His job was not to mourn, it was to mourn alongside his wife, and to be there to console her.

“We know they’re alive, they’ve been kidnapped,” Nicholas said, hoping only the knowledge that her sons were still alive would be enough to lessen the pain Sariah was in.

“But for how long?” She sobbed. She had been briefed on what had happened from Joshua, and he spared no small detail. He even added part of the unpayable ransom. “If we can’t pay for them, how long do they have to be afraid and hopeful for?”

Nicholas didn’t want to lie to her. He told her the truth. “A month, but their conditions will worsen week by week. I’m so sorry, Sariah. I feel like this is my fault. You never had to come from Kaesga. You could have stayed with your son until you and Oscar were old and grey. Now you have everything to worry about.”

“Nicholas, I wouldn’t give up being with you for anything. I never thought I could love again when my husband ran.”

“And I when my wife passed.” Nicholas took Sariah’s hands in his own. “I promise you, Sariah. I will find your son and bring him home.”

“They’re our sons. Oscar and Philip are as much my children as they are yours.”

Nicholas felt a few tears escape and he glanced out the window. He made a silent promise to himself as he looked out into the dark, starry world.

I’ll find you. You’ll both be home soon.

Joshua had been pacing in the king’s office for most of the night, he had no idea what to do or where to go to find the children. He had the ransom letter in his hands, he had been studying it and had determined that the handwriting had been identical to the threat from a few days prior. The parchment was of the same quality as well. That meant these notes were of the same hand. So there was either just one kidnapper or a definite mastermind. The kidnapper had used the pronouns “we” in the first note, which meant that there was more than one of them. So there was a mastermind of many people.

There had to be many people, otherwise, how could one or two people take out the entire force of armed men in the room to protect the princes? 

Joshua called in a servant and sent him to find the guard captain. The captain came in and found Joshua sitting in the king’s spot in the king’s office. This man did not like Joshua very much. He always felt he should have been given the position that Joshua held. After all, He was bigger and stronger than Joshua was by far.

“So now you’re in charge?” The big man said. Joshua looked up at him curiously. He knew that the guard commander hated him, but he didn’t understand why. It was difficult for Joshua to sense the feelings of others, and even if he did know what they were feeling, he didn’t exactly know what to do next. So Joshua pretended not to notice this grudge.

“Me? In charge? Heavens no. The king is still mourning the loss of his sons. I just need someone, preferably armed men, to look for the boys before they get hurt.”

“You don’t have that authority.”

“Yes, but you do. And Nicholas is too distraught to think straight, so I’m making the order as his temporary regent.”

“That’s not how being the king’s regent works, Joshua.” The man was angry now and stared Joshua down. Joshua just looked at him quizically for a few moments.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I need the guards sent out later today if at all possible. On second thought, I needed the princes home five minutes ago, so send them out yesterday. Can you do that?”

“Why you little…”

 Joshua had begun to fiddle with a pencil on his--or as should be said, Nicholas’s--desk and barely even made eye contact with the guard commander. “Careful, Clarence, don’t want to murder the king’s right hand. That wouldn’t look good for you.”

Clarence grumbled to himself and eventually took a long, deep breath. “How many troops would you like?”

“Well, now that you’re finally doing as you’re told by your superior,” Joshua loved to mess with Clarence. He could tell that whenever he mentioned his rank over the guard commander it made him angry. And Joshua found some sort of enjoyment in making him angry. “I’d like about six squadrons of about twenty men. Two patrolling around the coast, One in the Mannoch Forest, One in the Barren Land, One along the Great River, and the other at the border of Reighnwelsh. Can you handle that?”

“I outta wring your scrawny little neck!”

“Now why would you go and do a thing like that? Just send out the troops and then report to me when you find them, okay?”

Clarence looked like he was indeed about to strangle Joshua. Something about the way he looked and talked and acted just set him off. “One of these days I’m gonna-”

“Just do as I asked. You’re dismissed.”

Clarence left the room bright red.

Joshua sat back down in his chair and laughed as Clarence left. He didn’t know why Clarence hated him so much, but it was a good laugh to mess with him. A few minutes after Clarence left, he saw a fluffy mess of orange pounce onto the desk and find it comfortable to sit on a stack of papers in front of Joshua.

Joshua stroked the cat while Fredrich rubbed his head against Joshua’s hand. “I know you like that. Were you good to the king?”

“He was wonderful.” Joshua looked up as Nicholas walked into the room. His face was almost as red as Clarence’s, but for different reasons. “Were you giving Clarence a bad time again?”

“Maybe. But I just love the way that I can make him turn into a radish just from looking at him.”

Nicholas stroked the cat and smiled. “He’s a good animal, Joshua. But what will we do about Philip and Oscar?”

Joshua looked down. He had little faith that Clarence would do as he was told, so he didn’t want to get the king’s hopes up. “I don’t know, my lord. For now, just remember that they’re alive and well for the most part. And also know that we will stop at nothing until they are safely home with you.”

“Joshua, call me by my name, please.”

“Sorry, my lord, you know me.”

“Fortunately, I do.”

Oscar woke up groggily and found the pain in his hands and head to be nearly unbearable. He opened his eyes slowly and found he was in the forest, staring up at beautiful trees bathed in golden light. He almost felt like he was a free man. He wanted to enter this beautiful world, but as he tried to sit up to enter it, he was confronted with the horrible demon of reality. The trees fell away from him and he saw two men sitting around a fire. As he realized that he could be warmer, he began to feel colder and desired that warmth from the fire that he couldn’t feel so far away. He saw the two men eating breakfast, and he began to grow hungry. Then he saw one take a long swig of some beverage. His ears became more attuned to his surroundings and he heard a river nearby. Now he had become thirsty. He saw the men were unbound and began to feel the pain in his wrists and shoulders more. His hands were tied behind him, which caused much pain to his arms and shoulders. He had a massive headache when suddenly he thought of his brother.

Where was Philip?

He would have assumed that Philip was near him, but when he looked around, he did not see his step-brother. The events of the previous night began to come back to him. Oscar began to grow proud of his quick thinking to be held for ransom instead of dying that moment, but he had no idea what was charged as a ransom. He was hoping against all hope that it was not only reasonable but affordable. So affordable that it barely made a dent in the national treasury. Yet he barely thought that would be true. Langdon was the only of the four kingdoms to have a peace treaty with all four. Some, like the one with Reighnwelsh, were the only thing keeping them from war, but with Cerebellum, a peace treaty was merely a formality. However, Oscar knew that since the Tyrannus king of Reighnwelsh had died, his son would take the throne, and rumor was that his son had been the one to kill the king and that the new Reighnwelsh king was merciful and would be a shining replacement to the previous monarch.

But politics barely mattered. What did was that Langdon was not wealthy. Of the four kingdoms, Langdon may be the most peaceful, but it was certainly not the wealthiest. If it were not for the peace treaties, Langdon would be a weak enemy. Weak and easy to overthrow.

So an expensive ransom would be something that even if affordable, may not be able to be done. Oscar and Philip would die. But how soon? A week? A month? A year? How long did they have left?

Oscar saw one of the men from the previous night--the crossbowman--look in his direction.

“Looks like the other’s awake now, too,” he said, walking over and grabbing Oscar by the back of his shirt, dragging the boy behind himself. “I’ll put him with the other.”

The sorcerer, still seated, nodded as his henchman--as it was becoming clear that the two were not partners--dragged Oscar somewhere. The whole time, Oscar was thinking that he was going to die. He felt himself hurled rudely ahead, his hands were taken quickly, and he could barely process what was happening as it occurred so quickly. He suddenly felt a surge of relief as blood flowed back into his fingers.

Then he was grabbed again, by the ankle, and saw the rugged man tie another, thicker rope around his ankle.

“Sure you’re hungry,” he said, “Your brother’s got plenty o’ food and drink for the two o’ you.”

Oscar nodded and waited for the man to leave. He glanced around his new surroundings and saw Philip. He was leaning against a tree, a bit of bread and a clay cup of water next to him on the ground. It looked like he was either asleep or miserable. He was staring up at the sky, his skin was warm and flushed, but he wasn’t sweating. Oscar crawled over to his brother, concerned. Philip was panting.

“You’re dehydrated, you need water,” Oscar said, taking the cup and raising it to Philip’s lips. 

“Please, no,” Philip said weakly. He had a terrible fear of water. So much that he sometimes would collapse randomly because he simply hadn’t been drinking enough water. He was constantly sick because of his aversion to water.

“What if I took a sip first, Philip? Would that be enough? You have to drink something, you’ll die.”

Philip looked at Oscar and nodded. Oscar took a small sip, wanting to save some for Philip, he drank a few drops, then sealed his lips so no liquid entered, and exaggerated swallowing in his throat. He then handed the cup to Philip.

“Please, Philip, would I ever hurt you?” 

Philip reluctantly took the water and took a long drink. “It’s so warm,” he said, putting the cup down. Oscar pushed his hand back up.

“That's all we have. It'll get warmer inside of you anyway, just drink.” Philip hesitated, before taking another long drink.

“You have the rest,” Philip said. “And the bread.” 

Oscar smiled and took the small piece of bread from the dirty ground, he brushed it off and took a bite. “Have you had any?” He asked, feeling bad for not having asked before.

Philip nodded. He had woken up a few minutes before Oscar had, and he had already taken his share of food. After they had eaten and drank sufficient water, they sat quietly.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Oscar asked.

“They’ll charge a ransom. And if it’s not paid, usually they have a certain amount of time before they kill us,” Philip said. He glanced to the ground. He was feeling better gradually, he had woken up feeling so sick and painful that he could barely breathe. He was feeling himself get better though.

“Will I see my mother again?” Oscar asked. He felt his heart drop as the thought came to his mind. Being dead was the end. After he was gone, he wouldn’t see his mother or anyone. He’d just be gone.

The thought entered Philip’s mind about his father. He felt his spirit plummet and felt a few tears slide down his cheek. “So this is it? We die?” Philip asked.

“No, maybe Nicholas can pay the ransom. Perhaps there’s some hope. At least a little,” Oscar said optimistically. He wanted to ignore the nagging doubt in his mind, but it was impossible. “On second thought, we should start thinking about the end.”

The two stayed quiet for a moment, both fearing that their end would come soon. The silence was broken and replaced by fear when a large noise came from behind them. Philip and Oscar were both burdened by a thick cable around their ankle, which cable ran around a separate tree for the both of them. This allowed some degree of freedom and movement, but not enough to escape from the presumed danger. Oscar was able to scamper the furthest from this noise, pulling desperately on the cord to get further away. He saw Philip doing the same a few feet closer to the noise than he was.

Relief couldn’t begin to describe what they felt as they saw four of the castle’s guardsmen emerge from the forest. Two were on horses. They immediately dropped down and shared the same relief to see the two princes.

“I can’t believe we found you two so quickly,” one said before taking a deep bow. He was dressed in a captain’s uniform, distinguishing himself from the others. “The king and queen have been worried sick, the ransom is too high, there’s no way it can be paid. The king sent out patrols, trying to find you last night. Come on now, we’re taking you home.” 

Philip smiled so greatly that he let out a small laugh. He truly felt like he was going to die a few moments ago. Oscar was not as jubilant, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tall, slim figure of the sorcerer coming towards them. Two of the guards stepped forward with daggers and began to try and cut them free.

The sorcerer saw the soldiers and raised two fists in the air, side by side, then separated them as if he was tugging a knot tighter. Then the sorcerer stopped his pursuit and watched for a few minutes. Oscar quickly looked away and felt the sorcerer’s cold gaze on him.

“What’s wrong?” the captain asked after a couple of minutes.

“The ropes, they’re not cutting.”

“Now how could that be?” By pure chance, the captain saw the sorcerer in the woods. He didn’t let his gaze stay for long and merely looked at a soldier next to him who was carrying a recurve bow.

“Shoot that man, he’s the kidnapper,” The captain mumbled. The archer was in good practice and had his bow with an arrow knocked, drawn, and pointed at the sorcerer in seconds, he took a little longer to be sure his aim would be true and shot.

The sorcerer held his hand out in a claw, with reflexes like that of a cat. The arrow stopped in midair and he crushed his hand into a tight fist. The arrow disintegrated in the air. 

“Magic,” the captain whispered under his breath. He saw another man run forward behind the sorcerer. The sorcerer muttered something to this other man, raised his hand straight forward towards Oscar, and he swept his hand up into a fist. Oscar appeared standing in front of the sorcerer’s henchman.  He barely had time to process this event before he felt a knife pressed to his throat. Through the same motion, Philip vanished, but he did not reappear anywhere. 

“We’ll kill him,” the sorcerer said, and at a signal, the henchman pressed the knife deeper into Oscar’s throat.

The captain and his three men stood, terrified for their prince. “Please, let the boys go,” The captain pleaded.

“I don’t think so,” The sorcerer said. “You know, I guess it has been a day, why don’t we send you back to your king with a message? And, a little memento.” The sorcerer held out his hand and in it, a small vial appeared. He had his henchman release the prince, who fell to the ground, gasping and wheezing for breath as he had been holding it. Without any form of care, the sorcerer took the knife and vial and made a deep cut into Oscar’s left forearm, letting the blood flow into the vial. Oscar screamed in pain. A guard ran forward to try and save the boy from the pain, but the sorcerer dropped the vial, sending the precious liquid already collected to spill into the ground. He did the same magic he had done on the desk in the prince’s bedroom on the guard and sent him flying back to the others.

“Stay in your place now, oh what a pity,” the sorcerer said looking at the spilled blood. The cut on Oscar’s arm was still bleeding profusely, and he was starting to get dizzy and tried to clutch at his arm with his other hand and stop the blood flow. “I guess I’ll have to start over.” He gestured to the henchman.

“Prop him up,” the sorcerer said. The henchman ran forward and held the boy’s arms behind him so now the blood from the cut oozed out more and Oscar wasn’t able to stop himself from bleeding. Soon, the vial was full. The sorcerer put a quark in the top and tossed it none too gently to the captain.

The captain ran and dove to catch the precious blood before it hit the ground. He caught it safely. Then looked up to the devious men who were toying with the prince. The sorcerer wrapped an old, dirty cloth around the wound like a bandage. Oscar fainted as the loss of blood and the fear became too much for him. The crossbowman dropped him to the dirt.

The sorcerer looked at the captain and his soldiers.

“Go and tell your king that we do have his sons and we will hurt them. We’re not afraid to kill them. Give him that blood as proof that they’re here and they will be hurt.”

Two of the guardsmen mounted their horses and followed by the foot troops, ran in fear. Oscar was barely waking back up from having fainted and was already being dragged back to the camp, where he expected to see his brother, but instead found nothing, not even the camp. He was thrown roughly to the ground, he glanced up and saw the crossbowman with a large tree branch, he yelled out in fear, then he felt an unequaled pain in his head and then saw nothing but blackness.

~ ~ ~

For the next day, Joshua lovingly tended to the king and queen to his best ability. They were both inconsolable, and the king didn’t even know about the patrols Joshua sent after the two princes. Neither the king nor the queen even spoke after the boys were taken from the castle. Joshua was hoping the patrols would be successful and lift Nicholas and Sariah’s spirits to the moon and back by bringing their sons home safe and sound.

It was early morning when Nicholas had set Sariah down in bed to rest and went to his work as King. He sat down at his desk and saw Joshua enter.

“What is it, Joshua? What do you want? Another day, another pile of paperwork. Is that how your mind works? Do you feel anything?” Nicholas said, downcast and staring blankly at his desk with his head on his fist.

“I was thinking that instead of paperwork, maybe today we could just talk?” Joshua watched as Nicholas confusingly lifted his head and stared at Joshua.

“What has gotten into you, Joshua? What happened?” 

“Nothing, only the fact that my nephews- I mean, the princes were carried off by wolves last night.”

Nicholas gestured to a chair. It was Joshua’s chair. That was where he always sat. Joshua took his seat and looked at Nicholas. He had begun to see Nicholas as a brother for a long time, and Philip was a nephew to him for even longer. But in front of the king, he remained formal. He used their titles. Nicholas was the king. And Philip was the prince. That was how it was. Joshua was not a member of their family. Philip being kidnapped struck him hard, but he had to keep himself and his emotions bottled in the face of royalty.

“What were you saying just now?” Nicholas asked. He had caught onto the small giveaway that Joshua gave to his thoughts of the royal family.

“Nothing important,” Joshua said in a faint attempt to save himself. “Only that since the two princes are gone, and you were close to them, that we should talk instead of doing work.”

Nicholas caught Joshua’s eyes and strived for eye contact. Joshua quickly dropped his gaze and allowed Nicholas a faint smile.

“I knew it,” Nicholas said. “I knew you had to have some sort of heart. You miss Philip, don’t you? And Oscar, you miss them and you’re worried for them!”

Joshua feigned surprise. “My Lord, my relation with you and the royal family is strictly professional. You are my king and superior. And your children hold that same superiority. I do not, and will not think of you as something so low as my family.”

Nicholas sat back in his chair, not buying any of it. “Joshua, my father and I found you as a small little boy, covered in bruises hiding in an abandoned cottage in the woods. We took you in and from the time you were ten we were raised almost like brothers. I’ve always looked at you like a younger brother.”

“Thank you, sire. The sentiment is appreciated.”

“The sentiment is true, Joshua. You called my son your nephew. And I’m more than happy to hear that you care enough for him to think about him as family.”

Joshua smiled and looked up at Nicholas. “I am worried for him, Nicholas. I’m afraid that he won’t come home. And if they do come home, I’m afraid that they’ll be hurt. You think I don’t care. Every time I’ve seen you since they were kidnapped you’ve kept assuming that I was going to drag you here to do paperwork or something else so insensitive! You’ve never expected me to care and I’ve shaped myself into that expectation for you. I can put on a brave face for you. You think I don’t feel anything, but you have no idea what I tell Fredric at night. I worry for Philip and Oscar every moment of every day.” Joshua was finally quiet for a moment, and Nicholas fell silent as well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you like that, my lord,” Joshua said, embarrassed having realized what he had said to the king.

“No, Joshua, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that you didn't care for my son. Philip has trusted you his entire life, and that doesn’t come without something in return. Trust is given and taken. We shouldn’t focus as much on how he’s gone, and more on how to get him back.”

“I’ve already sent patrols searching for him, my lord.”

“My name is Nicholas, Joshua. I like it when you call me Nicholas.”

Joshua nodded and continued, “I sent patrols out last night, right after I sent Fredric and Sariah to soothe you. I don’t expect to hear back from them soon.”

“I don’t expect the kidnappers to go far in so little time. Maybe we’ll be lucky and they’ll return with my boys.” Nicholas spoke too soon as there was a rapping on the door. Nicholas permitted the man to enter and saw a captain walk in, there was a vial of what looked to be wine clenched in his clammy hand. He bowed and Joshua stood. The captain handed the vial to Joshua, who sniffed at the lid.

“Iron,” Joshua mumbled, then he looked at the king. “It's blood.” Nicholas gestured quickly for Joshua to hand him the vial. Joshua willingly handed the king the blood and watched as the king performed his sniff test. Confirming it was blood, he looked up to the captain.

“Where did you get this?” He asked.

The captain took a deep breath and Joshua could see the sweat gathering on his brow. “It’s the prince’s blood,” Joshua concluded from the captain’s body language. “So, one of them is dead?” Joshua asked, heartbroken. He took a seat and sat on the verge of tears.

“No, My Lord, both of the princes are alive. We found them.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Joshua proclaimed, doubling over with relief.

“They’re only hurt, and terrified. And hungry.”

Nicholas began biting his fingernails. At least he knew his sons were alive. “And the blood?” he asked. “Where did it come from? Whose is it?”

The captain gulped. “It’s Prince Oscar’s. The sorcerer cut him and drained his blood. He was unconscious when we were forced to leave. Oh, the pain he was in, he was yelling, begging for us to save him. The sorcerer wouldn’t let us take a step toward the boy.”

“A sorcerer? We’re dealing with magic?”

The captain nodded his head. They were dealing with some of the most dangerous and formidable crafts known to man. A sudden surge of fear came over Nicholas as he realized that unless the ransom was paid, he would lose his precious sons.

“Did they threaten him? Could you see the fear in his eyes? Did he mention me at all?”

“Before we made our presence known, we heard them talking. Both boys. They were tied up and Philip had fallen ill. He was dehydrated. Oscar forced him to drink water and he became a little better, but I fear this will be temporary. They were talking about you, sire, about how afraid they were. They didn’t know what the ransom was and they thought you would have paid it by then. They kept thinking they were going to die. Then the sorcerer came and held a knife to Oscar’s throat before taking his blood. He made Philip vanish, and we didn’t see where he went. Oscar was unconscious when we last saw him. He was scared.”

“And he will be until he’s killed,” Nicholas mumbled. He looked up to the captain. “Thank you, please, get some rest and be sure your horses are taken care of.”

The captain nodded and left the room. Nicholas looked at Joshua. The old man was sitting, with a plain look on his face. Joshua stood up, and Nicholas saw something in the way he held himself. It was different from any other time he saw Joshua.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Joshua mumbled. “I’m gonna kill that sorcerer, or die trying.” Joshua was flooded with horrible memories from when he was a small child, the way his siblings and father hated him. Sleeping in the cold, scared for his life some nights, some nights freezing and begging to come inside the warm house, but only being greeted by scowls and having food scraps thrown at him. Sometimes his siblings would pet him and treat him like he was a dog. If it wasn’t for the kindness and sympathy of the king and his neighbors, Joshua had no doubt he would have died. Winter was approaching. Which meant it would be cold. And Philip and Oscar would be outside in it, thinking their father had rejected and forgotten about them, just like Joshua had as a boy. And he vowed at that moment that whoever made his nephews feel like he had would die a painful death at his hands.

Nicholas stood and put a hand on each of Joshua’s shoulders. “I promise you, Joshua, whoever is holding my son against his will is going to get what’s coming to him. And most painfully.”

“I don’t want them to hang. I want to feel their blood on my hands. I want to raise a sword and run them through myself.” Joshua’s voice had an angry edge that Nicholas didn’t know. He had never seen Joshua so angry before. Gently, Nicholas guided him down to a seat.

“I don’t want to sit!” Joshua shouted, standing abruptly.  He pushed the king off of him. “That sorcerer will die and I’ll make sure of it!”

Nicholas looked at Joshua, he had his fists clenched and Nicholas could tell he was angry. “Don’t do this, Joshua, not without me. Please, give it a day and you and I will go out and find this villain ourselves.”

Joshua nodded and the terrible anger that had overcome him subsided. He sat down and rested his head on the table. “Tomorrow, we’ll save your son. He’ll come home.”

Nicholas nodded. “Yes, he will.” Nicholas was about to add that he wouldn’t be hurt, then remembered the vial of blood on his desk. Oscar was hurt, and Philip was ill. Both were terrified. Saying that they would be fine was being hopeful. They were not fine, and the experience would leave mental and physical marks forever. Nicholas sat down at his desk and stared at the vial of blood. His poor son. He had to save them. He had to.

Oscar’s terrified eyes darted around the small room, noticing everything. He had begun to assume that his brother was killed. It had been two days since he saw him last. His arm hurt, but not as much as his heart did to think that his step-brother was killed. Oscar was happy to be brothers with Philip, their parents had met because of their friendship. And now the mere suspicion of his death was tearing him to pieces. 

His hands were tied in front of him, and he could barely see in the darkened room. He was being led forward by a rough hand on his shoulder. If he was slow to move, or hesitant, he felt something sharp poke into his back. Even if he looked behind him to see if the sorcerer or his minion were pushing him forward, he received the same poking treatment, probably from a knife. Oscar’s eyes eventually adjusted to the room. There was a table with parchment and ink spread over it with two wooden chairs next to the table. There was only one torch in the wall, but it had long since burned out. There was a small gate in the wall on the floor. Oscar hoped again that he would see his brother, as he did every time he entered a new environment. 

Oscar was shoved toward this grate. His spirits soared as he saw Philip inside, curled into a ball and still barely fitting in the small space. It was a tiny space, obviously newly built, almost as if the sorcerer had planned to be taking someone hostage. It was most likely that it would be one person, maybe a guard or even the queen, just as a way to be sure that the king wouldn’t come and hang the criminals.

“Philip,” Oscar whispered. He was relieved to see the boy stir a bit and look up at Oscar, then he let his head fall back down to the cold stone floor. Oscar’s first thought was that he was dehydrated again. 

Suddenly, Oscar found himself inside the tiny little cell with Philip. The two of them didn’t fit at all and Philip was too sick to even comprehend that Oscar was now in the tiny prison with him.

Oscar watched as the sorcerer finished his magic to put him in the cage and listened.

“As you can tell, there’s no way out. The only way to escape is with magic. I only planned to take your mother, to keep that king from hunting us down, so you’ll notice that it’s a bit cramped,” the sorcerer said. “I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” 

The sorcerer turned to leave but caught Oscar’s gaze towards Philip.

“You think he’s only dehydrated. How adorable. No, he’s much worse than dehydrated. I’d guess that he only has a little over a month left. But it'll be a terrible month. Every day he’ll get worse and worse until eventually, you wake up, and he won’t.”

The sorcerer left, and Oscar was left alone with Philip and the crossbowman. The man leaped forward suddenly, scaring Oscar half to death. The man reached in, grabbed Oscar’s hands, and cut them apart so the ropes fell.

“Have a nice day,” the man said, then he left. At the door, he turned and said, “By the way, the name’s Wulfric.” 

The name registered with some deep memory to Oscar, but he couldn’t quite place it. It was from something that happened a long time ago, something dark, maybe even scary. Something that he didn’t want to relive no matter what.

Oscar leaned back against the wooden wall of his prison. He looked toward Philip. Why was he so sick? It didn’t make sense that he was just sick. Oscar felt his stomach rumble. He was hungry. Forget being hungry, he was starving. He missed his father more than he missed anything in the world. He wanted to go back to his home, back to his mother. She was beautiful now. She was the queen. She wore elegant dresses and her hair was always clean and done to perfection. She was everything Oscar always wanted her to be in his dreams and his imaginings. But he was lacking something.

Oscar looked down at his rich clothing. The vibrant colors and layers of fabric had been torn and stripped down to nothing but a dirty, more peasant version of himself. He had lived and dressed like a prince for about a year, but somehow, how he was dressed now after being a prisoner for a few days felt more like himself. Oscar looked around his new prison. It was less of a prison and more of a wooden box. It was built so that he felt if he just hit the wall hard enough, it would collapse and he'd be free, but something told him the same magic done on those ropes when the patrol came to save them was also strengthening the wood. And there was no light coming from between the planks of wood, telling him that there was also nothing beyond the wooden box. 

The bars were rough wood, they looked strong and were strong. Oscar knew he wouldn’t be able to escape by pushing on those either.

Here he was, concocting a ruse for escape in a dire situation of life and death, every second wasted valuable time, the crowned prince was to the side, sick and helpless. They were being kept by an evil and power-hungry sorcerer, driven by his desire for money and more power. It was just like in every one of his fantastical stories. But it was too different. He was a prisoner, he was not the hero in this story. This was real life. In real life, people die. True, in the world of fiction every story works out, every time there is a happy ending. But fiction was made as an escape from the horrible reality where, in the end, winners were not real. Winners belonged to fiction. People die in real life. There’s death in real life! They die and there were no winners. No story ends happily ever after. Death dwells in the world. And death takes mercilessly.

Oscar couldn't move, there was no space to. He looked at Philip. Death was in the room, it was getting hungry, and it saw Philip as a steaming hot meal. Death waited to pounce, waiting for Philip to come so close to death, that he could reach out and take him.

“Don’t take him!” Oscar shouted, he threw himself on Philip, protecting his precious brother from Death. He pushed Philip to the back of the prison cell, placing himself between Death and his brother.

Philip woke up and looked at Oscar. He sat up and leaned against the wall, having to bring his knees to his chest and hunch over so he’d fit in the cell.

“What are you doing?” Philip mumbled to his brother. He was dazed and didn’t know entirely what he was saying or what was going on.

“I couldn’t let it take you,” Oscar said. “Philip, you’re gravely ill. You don’t have long left unless you can get home.”

Philip had drifted back to sleep. He was pale-green in complexion and had a terrible fever. He was miserable and hadn’t heard what Oscar had said. He could, and did just fall asleep anywhere. He had appeared in this prison a few days previously and didn’t entirely know where he was or why he was there.

Oscar accepted his friend being sick and let him sleep. He looked out to the dark room and sighed. He wanted to leave here and never come back. Already his neck was cramped from having to lean over because of the low ceiling.

“Where did you go?” Oscar whispered to Nicholas, even though he wasn’t there. “Why did you leave us?”

~ ~ ~

Nicholas stared endlessly into the fire, so tired he felt if he didn’t close his eyes and sleep, his eyes would fall out. But he had to remain awake to listen to Joshua.

“So I’d assume they’re- No. No! We are not going there! I swore I wouldn’t when I was ten years old!”

Nicholas sat up straight and looked into Joshua’s concerned eyes. Since Philip vanished Nicholas had witnessed an array of new emotions from Joshua. 

“What’s wrong?” Nicholas looked at the map and his eyes caught the city near the coast that Joshua was from.

“I can’t go back there, Nicholas, I can’t.”

“Joshua, do you think my sons are there?”

Joshua sadly nodded his head affirmatively. Then Nicholas saw a fear rush into him, fear for his own life. Joshua was breathing heavily and his breath was broken. He sat down and put his head in his hands, trying to prevent such terrible memories from his childhood.

“No,” he mumbled repeatedly.

Nicholas watched his friend, barely comprehending. He didn’t want to pry and wanted to only let his friend be alone, but Joshua’s thoughts never followed any coherent pattern.

Nicholas, not knowing how to approach, having never been in Joshua’s situation, only sat next to his friend.

“I doubt they’ll recognize you. You ran away when you were ten, that leave’s what, thirty years? You’ve gotten older, and I’m sure your siblings have dispersed through the country.”

Joshua was quiet and didn’t look up toward Nicholas. The two would normally banter back and forth about where Joshua came from. Joshua loved this light-hearted view of his childhood, but the morbid memories of his mother’s death were still there and were waiting to protrude from their slumber.

“Philip is there, I know it. My oldest brother has him. Do you have that note?”

Nicholas handed him the note. Joshua took one look and broke down into tears.

“Yes, that’s his handwriting. He would become an outlaw. He was always rebellious and thought he was more powerful than everyone. He hates the idea of a monarchy. He would murder your son. He wouldn’t even feel bad. He believed in an eye for an eye. He tried to kill me. A couple of times, too.”

“Is that where the scars came from?” Nicholas asked. Joshua looked at his arm, with the nasty scar on it. He nodded. He hadn’t told anyone about the scars and where they came from. 

“If he sees me, he will kill me. And he won’t just graze the surface again, he will kill me.” 

“I’ll be sure he doesn’t.” Nicholas thought to the sword hanging at his waist, he knew that this man wouldn’t more than five minutes being in the room with him, especially if he went after Joshua.

“You don’t understand. He doesn’t believe in monarchies. He believes that there shouldn't even be a government. He thinks men should fight and win their battles. Survival of the fittest, no countries, no currency, just survival. No civilization. In his mind, if someone sleeps with your wife, you sleep with theirs, or you find another wife, or you kill him. If your brother kills your mother, you kill him. It was very simple. Everyone in my family is like that. Nicholas, he will not hesitate to kill your sons. I’m surprised he’s even taking money over their lives. It is vital that we rescue them before he changes his mind.”

“He did hurt Oscar, you think he’ll just turn around and kill them?”

“He has never met these boys before, I’m his brother. He turned around and beat me, he cut up my face and my arm, and he tied me to a tree to be, in his own words, 'finished off by whatever animal is so hungry that it considers you a sufficient meal’. I was ten!”

“How did you escape?”

Joshua sighed, looking back to those days as a child thinking he was about to die. He was distracted from his nephews for a moment. “Fredric found me. He was a stray kitten. He kept me warm until one day, I woke up and I was free. I don’t know what happened, but I was thirsty, starving, and felt like I was already dead. I was bleeding, and I was hurting so much that I was only able to crawl to the nearest shelter I could find and die. Fredric hunted mice in that cabin, and I had to eat that. It was hard for me, I didn’t think anyone loved me anymore. I didn’t think anyone could. I used to think that I must have been a cat since it was a cat who showed me the most love.”

“That explains why you were purring when we found you.”

“I was not!”

“You were, we thought there was a family of cats.”

Joshua smiled and glanced up at his friend. He looked back to the fire. “If it is my brother who has your son, may I please be the one to kill him? He shouldn’t just be hanged, he should die the most painful death I can imagine.”

“Yes, Joshua, if your brother is keeping my sons hostage, you may kill him.” 

Joshua nodded. He lay down and went to sleep. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nicholas.”

“Good night, Joshua.”

~ ~ ~

“How often do we feed them?” Wulfric asked the sorcerer. The taller man fiddled with a quill in his hand. He thought for a moment before replying, then glanced at the sleeping boys. They were well and truly asleep, and a simple spell made sure of it. Oscar was still on the outside of the cell, and his hand hung out through one of the bars.

“I have an idea, if they want food, they must earn food. They play for it.”

“Play for it?” Wulfric asked.

“Yes, a good way to earn some money for us, and for them, well if they win they get food, if they lose, they starve. If they play they can eat, if not, they die. It’s simple.”

“Shouldn’t we test it?” Wulfric asked. The sorcerer nodded. He picked up a plate of bread and placed it a little beyond the cell bars, just out of reach. He then put the bread on the floor and took the plate, slamming it against the wall and creating such a violent noise that both boys leaped out of their sleep, Oscar with a small noise of fear.

“Food,” The sorcerer said, stepping aside so that the boys could see the meal. Oscar quickly pounced on the bars in his hunger and reached and stretched to get the precious bread.

“I can’t reach,” he mumbled. The sorcerer merely laughed. He happened to notice Oscar reaching with his right arm, Oscar doubled his efforts and only found that his wound reopened, and blood spilled out once again. He darted his arm back inside the cell, and cradled it with his other arm before reaching for the food again, this time--with his left arm--he was able to lightly tap the surface of the bread with the very tip of his finger.

“Just a little further,” The sorcerer said mockingly. “Come on, boy, reach for it! Aren’t you hungry?”

Oscar took one last big stretch and was able to prod the bread over to him where he was able to grab it. He took accomplishment in this and laughed before eating. He looked up at the sorcerer, almost thinking it was a trick.

“Go on, you earned it.” 

Oscar took a much-needed bite of delicious, slightly moldy bread. He looked at Philip, who was asleep again with this terrible illness. He immediately shook him awake and helped his brother to his share of the meager meal. Oscar couldn’t be happier to see his brother smiling at him.

Philip was not to know that there was no more bread. Oscar had his bite, and Philip had the rest. Philip needed the rest. It wouldn’t be enough to fill him, but it would be enough to keep him alive.

The sorcerer scoffed and went back to the table.

“Surprisingly, that was quite entertaining,” Wulfric said as he was rejoined by his companion.

“It was, wasn’t it? I think we found something to do while we await the ransom.”

Oscar looked up at the sorcerer in fear. If all the meals were so rancid and small, and they could barely get to them, they would starve before they could be killed. The sorcerer caught the look and all Oscar saw was the sorcerer’s hand before he let himself fall asleep and dream. He had the most wonderful dream.

Nicholas and Joshua walked into the crime-ridden city with very different thoughts and emotions. Joshua walked with fear, his eyes darting around every corner, his hands fiddling with the end of his tunic and praying that he wouldn’t see anyone he recognized. While he knew no one would recognize him, with the scar on his face and after having grown for thirty years, he was still cautious. 

In contrast, Nicholas walked with some sort of purpose, something in him knew his family was close, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish after only a day in town, but he didn’t want to just arrive, he wanted to arrive and look around, scope out the area, and see where his sons may be held.

“There’s someone following us,” Joshua whispered to him. Nicholas made a move to glance behind him, but Joshua stopped such an action. “It’s a woman. Blonde hair. She’s not that tall. Quite a bit shorter than I am. Maybe the same height as you-“

“You think I’m ‘quite a bit shorter’ than you?”

Joshua opened his mouth to reply when he felt a hand on his shoulder turn him around.

“Holy stars it is you,” a woman said. “Joshua, where have you been? Your brother said you were dead.”

Joshua continued to fiddle with his tunic, doubling his efforts to twist and bend the fabric. The woman noticed and sighed.

“Still with the old habits? Your father’s gone, Joshua. Died from Cholera a year ago. Your siblings have either moved to different parts of the country or passed away themselves.”

“And, Harald?” Joshua asked with a fear-filled voice.

“Don’t know. He vanished a few years back. Tore your dad to pieces.”

“Good riddance.” The woman took notice of the scars on Joshua’s face and arm. Her eyes widened and Joshua made a faint effort to hide the scar on his arm.

“What happened to you, Joshua? You went out hunting with Harald, and you never came back. Harald told me there was a terrible accident and you were killed.”

“I didn’t think you cared, Emma. I didn’t think anyone did.  Harald dragged me into the woods. He beat me, then he gave me these scars, and then he tied me to a tree to be eaten alive and left. He left me for dead.”

Joshua watched Emma’s eyes fill with tears. Emma was a kind friend to Joshua for years, and he loved her before he was forced from his life and into a better one. Emma and her mother lovingly cared for Joshua throughout everything he went through in life. Emma loved him as a brother and Joshua loved her as a sister. A few decades went by and both forgot about the other somewhat.

Joshua hugged her, he missed her for all the years, but he didn’t admit it. Nicholas stood behind and was slightly confused. He didn’t think Joshua had any friends.

Joshua stood straight and looked at Nicholas, suddenly excited.

“Nicholas, this is Emma. She was a good friend when I was a boy.”

Emma nodded a greeting to Nicholas. Nicholas was dressed as a peasant and so she had no way of knowing that this was the king. And since there was no way to know, she did not treat him as he would if she knew he was king.

“Nice to meet you, Emma. Now tell me, how did you come to meet Joshua?”

“My mother was his mother’s best friend. It broke her heart when she died, but it hurt her even more when Joshua’s family blamed him for his mother’s death.”

“Emma’s family cared for me and kept me alive. If they didn’t, I would have died as a baby.”

Nicholas nodded. “I’m sorry. I never thought it was possible to hate a baby.”

Emma frowned and glanced to the floor. She never knew completely what was happening with Joshua. All she knew growing up was that he was perhaps her best friend, but he was hurt all the time. It wasn’t until she was older that she knew. She would never understand it. Torturing a boy who had already lost a mother.

Emma looked up at Joshua--who was a little taller than she was--she looked between him and Nicholas, then a thought entered her mind.

“What are you doing here? And who are you anyway?” She asked Nicholas. She had believed that Joshua was dead, and was relieved to find him alive, but didn’t know anything about his companion. Her curious nature wanted to know more about this man. 

Nicholas looked up at Joshua. “You can trust her, Nicholas,” Joshua said.

“It’s quite a long story,” Nicholas answered.

“Come on, you can stay in my house” Emma led Joshua and Nicholas out of the busy street and down the road a bit. Her home looked out over the sea. Joshua stopped and stared at the house across the street. Nicholas knew instantly the significance of the house. Emma noticed as well and put a hand on his back.

“No one lives there anymore. It was abandoned. It’s not safe to live there,” Emma said to him.

“It was never safe to live there. Not for me.”

“I’m sure you found a much better place to stay.”

Joshua smiled and nodded. He had indeed found a much better place to live. Emma guided them inside and Joshua quickly made himself at home, after all, this was his home. He sat down and sighed in satisfaction. He was home.

Nicholas sat next to him and looked around the warm room. It was tight, and there was barely any room, but it was kept bright by candles and a window viewing waves outside. Joshua stood and went to the window, watching the waves.

“Where’s your mother, Emma?” Joshua inquired, watching the waves roll over each other. He used to do this for hours a day with Emma’s mother. While trying to hide from his family he would watch the waves in the ocean with Emma and her mother.

“She died. Cholera last year. Nearly half the town died from that. Two of your siblings, too.”

“Which ones?” Joshua asked. He had no grief or feeling of mourning for his awful family. 

“Jayden and Ivan. Painful, too. They drifted on the edge of life and death for a while. No one helped them of course. They died.”

Joshua nodded. Jayden and Ivan were his youngest siblings, they were twins about a year older than him. From what he knew, his mother suffered a difficult birth but lived to have him, however, Joshua’s birth had been too much on her already weakened body and she died soon after conceiving him. Jayden and Ivan weren’t really bad to him since they weren’t that much older than he was, but his older siblings exalted them and held them on high, they were the precious younger siblings that hadn’t killed anyone. They became self-absorbed and looked down on Joshua. They had been the ones to treat him as if he were the family pet.

“Good riddance.”

Emma turned to Nicholas. “Now, who are you?”

Nicholas stood and introduced himself. “Nicholas. Nicholas Collins.” Nicholas realized the importance of what he said too late. It was an instinct of his to say his name, and he hadn’t prepared a lie beforehand, so he said what he knew to say. But he didn’t regret it all that much, Emma would find out eventually.

Emma didn’t move, then laughed. She knew the king’s name. Her first thought was that this man was joking with him, then she saw the serious look in his eyes and looked at Joshua. She immediately bent over nearly double in a clumsy courtesy. She had never met any royalty before. She barely knew how to act. Nicholas smiled and helped her stand straight.

“You’re the king?” She asked, looking into his eyes. Nicholas nodded. “Then what are you doing here? How did you meet Joshua?”

Nicholas pulled a chair out of the nearest table and sat Emma on it. She was breathing heavily and was starting to get red in the face. He sat down next to her and waited until she had gathered herself sufficiently.

“My father and I found Joshua in a small cabin just outside the castle. We took him to the castle, brought him back to health and my mother and father loved and cared for him as their own. He’s almost like a brother to me in that sense. I have two children, they’re boys by the names of Philip and Oscar. They’re very similarly aged. They were kidnapped a week ago.”

“How old are they?” Emma asked. She was never able to have children. She was married, but her husband died in that terrible cholera outbreak the previous year. As such, she had a soft spot for children. And as she approached her later years, that tender place grew and grew.

“Fifteen. Both of them. My wife died in childbirth with Philip and I remarried. Oscar’s my step-son.”

“How horrible, do you think they’re being held here?”

Joshua intervened. “We received a ransom note sent from here. It smells and tastes like the ocean, and it’s made from imported parchment. Not anything expensive, but this town is the largest convener of imports and exports in the country. I naturally thought that the paper came from here, and the handwriting matched Harald’s. I think Harald kidnapped the princes.”

Emma sat amazed. Joshua had no formal education, and yet he seemed to know everything now. He was only an uneducated boy when she last saw him. She simply couldn’t believe that he changed so much.

“Harald? Kidnapping children? I know that he’s-“

“Vindictive, evil, terrible, malevolent, violent, acrimonious, there are many words that work.”

Emma again looked up at her old friend. When she knew Joshua as a boy, the only words he knew to describe his family were “mean”. Now he had a whole squadron of them ready to go. She shook her head in amazement.

“You’ve grown up so much, Joshua. What did you do?”

“I, uh, I got a life.”

Nicholas saw his friend struggle. Joshua was a very humble man. He hated bragging about himself. Nicholas had to brag for him. “Joshua is my most trusted advisor now. I go to him for everything from war to raising my Philip.”

“He had weird phases,” Joshua put in. “He’s afraid of water now.”

Emma smiled. “So strange, how you could go from nothing to everything.” Emma looked back to the king. “You're welcome to stay here, I haven’t had many visitors in a while. But I assume you have much better accommodations awaiting you elsewhere.” Emma was notably disappointed. She liked the company, but she knew the king would not stay in a place as lowly as this.

“We don’t want Harald to get wind that we’re here. He might hurt the boys. If we could remain here for a while, that would be ideal,” Nicholas said. Emma nodded excitedly. Looking out the window, she saw the sun was nearly set. 

“I’ll make supper,” she said while standing. She happened to glance at Joshua, he was keeping himself well composed, but it was obvious he was filled with energy. “Do you want to help, Joshua?” 

“Yes!” Joshua yelled as he followed Emma into the small kitchen. Joshua always aided in cooking when he was young. To this day he lived to cook and was good at it. He liked to talk while he cooked. Normally with Fredric, but this time to another human. He told himself to remember not to offer her chunks of raw meat as he did with Fredric. But that wouldn’t stop him from chatting.

Nicholas was left alone at the table. He was able to look out the window toward the ocean. The waves rolled over each other in a similar but changing motion repeatedly. The waves crashed against the shore and seagulls made their strange noises. Men working on the docks shouted and ships came in and out of the harbor far off on the horizon. Nicholas imagined being Joshua as a child. Desiring nothing more than to be on those waves, on a ship sailing far away.

It was then the thought struck him. An evil and terrible thought. The thought that perhaps, the reason his sons were taken here was because they would be taken away forever. Onto a ship heading off to who knows where. Or maybe it was to drown them or to poison them with cholera.

All Nicholas knew for sure was that if he found his sons dead, he would never be able to forgive himself. The poor boys must have been terrified. Nicholas knew Oscar was hurt. Enough to fill that vial with blood. How could he let that happen to his boys? In Nicholas’s view, Philip and Oscar were only little boys. They were fifteen, but that was still so young. Too young to be held hostage in remote areas of the country, terrified that death lay only around the corner. His precious little boys were afraid, and he was afraid for them.

Nicholas heard Joshua talking with Emma in the kitchen. Mostly about each of their lives after Joshua left. Nicholas sat back and listened to them, wanting that to be a distraction from his thoughts of his son's death.

Joshua mumbled something that Nichols shouldn’t quite make out and Emma responded.

“Mostly one by one. Some told me where they were going, some told me they were leaving, some just left.”

“What about Harald?” Joshua asked earnestly.

“I don’t know. I think when I was much younger he wanted to marry me.”

“He what?” Joshua yelled. They were making lamb. Emma had felt hungry for lamb earlier in the day and bought it that day. Joshua was chopping vegetables and slammed the knife down on the counter. “Harald? You married Harald?”

“No, Joshua. Harald wanted to marry me. He tried and tried to get me to like him for four years. Eventually, he made a big show about leaving forever. I think it was his last try to get me to fall for him. You know, you never know how good you have it until it’s gone. I never fell for it. The next day Harald was gone.”

Joshua sighed in relief and Emma watched as he relaxed. “Thank heaven for that.”

“Then he learned magic and it was non-stop.”

“Magic?” Joshua asked while looking up. Harald was the oldest in his family at 17 when he tried to kill Joshua the last time. “He didn’t have magic when I left. Don’t you get that when you’re sixteen?”

Emma nodded. “He told me he was keeping it secret for a few years while he was learning to use it. He became such a pompous little brat. Oh, how I wished you would come back. Eventually, I did get married, not to Harald, but Lindon.”

“Lindon? The blacksmith’s kid?” Lindon was never very nice to Joshua, not for the reason that his family tormented him, but because Joshua was a bit strange as a child. Lindon was a bully in his youth, but Joshua never became malevolent towards him. 

Emma nodded again. “He was magnificent. He eventually grew out of his old self. He missed you, Joshua. All the kids did. Everyone felt so horrible for you, and when your family said you died in an accident, we all knew it was cold-blooded murder. Lindon died of Cholera last year.”

Joshua looked over at Emma. She was getting much older. He barely recognized her. Her once dark hair was streaked with grey, held up in a messy bun. She was getting old. Her skin was beginning to wrinkle, and her face became rounder and kinder. Joshua thought she was beautiful.

“How many died last year? From Cholera?”

“Half the village. Mostly the old and otherwise sick died.  I was lucky I didn’t pass as well. Anyone you can name is probably dead.”

“Lindon’s father?”

“No, he lived. But his wife died. He went a little crazy after that. You and I know they had five kids. They’re all dead now. The poor man started drinking when his wife died. I worry about him. The poor old man. He sold his business and everything he owned. He lives on the streets now. Gambling and whatnot. It’s been sad to watch. I try to take care of him, though.”

“Why didn’t you find the king? We have healers in Castle Langdon, very experienced healers. We could’ve helped.”

“The castle was under siege last year!” Emma said with a laugh. “We considered it, but it would be a suicide mission to go to Castle Langdon.”

“Right. Almost forgot about that. It’s strange. It’s so different here. In Castle Langdon, all I can think of is the princes and the siege and the king and politics. Here, it’s barely crossed my mind.”

“Fior is like that. You tend to forget yourself listening to the waves. Makes it easy to sleep, too. I don’t think I could go to sleep without that ocean.” Emma smiled to herself. She enjoyed her life in the coastal city of Fior. She looked at Joshua. “What was it like? The siege? Were you okay?”

Joshua thought back to the few days that consisted of the siege. Philip had run away to the north days before, thinking his father was being overprotective and feeling too much pressure as the future king. Nicholas went after him. While they were gone, Joshua was the only person who knew where they were.  He was taken prisoner and beaten to tell the siegemen where the royal family was. He never let go of a word, and for a few days after the siege, lay on the edge of life and death as Philip was brought back to the castle, where he and the king were immediately taken prisoner. Philip was dragged off with the outlaws after the siege where he was tortured for days on end. He was left crippled (he had no feeling in his left hand) and with a fear of water.

“It was scary.”

Nicholas stood up and joined them in the kitchen. “Scary is an understatement! Joshua, you could’ve died!”

Emma’s eyes widened for perhaps the billionth time that day and looked up at Joshua, again feeling like it was too much-repeated action.

“You’re all right now, right?” She asked desperately. Joshua nodded to reassure her.

“Yes. I was much better off than others were. Philip ended up with a useless hand and terrible scars on his face and arms. I was only a little uncomfortable for a few weeks.”

Nicholas sighed. “Oh, Joshua. When will you learn? You’ve done good things in your life, people should know.”

Joshua laughed. “Why don’t you just go back to your window?”

Nicholas returned the laughter and gratefully returned to watch the sunset over the ocean. He frowned to himself. He kept thinking of his sons. He couldn’t help it. They were afraid. And they had been for a week.

A week.

Nicholas suddenly doubled over with a pain in the pit of his stomach. He was promised that if the ransom was not paid in a week, the boys would be hurt. Apparently, draining their blood and letting them suffer in illness was not hurting them, Nicholas could only imagine the terror that awaited his sons. He felt a terrible agony inside of his stomach and heart, thinking of his boys as they were hurt, their terror and feeling of loss. They would wonder where he was and why he wasn’t lovingly coming to their rescue. 

A hand fell on Nicholas's shoulder. Nicholas saw Joshua’s concerned face but sounds blended together to nothing. He only heard screams. His sons’ screams. They were screaming in pain and for help, but Nicholas was somehow unable to help.

He felt himself being helped to his feet by Joshua. He could still barely hear a word. He felt lowered down again, this time to his back. He fell asleep. He didn’t wake up until morning.

Oscar watched Philip closely, feeling his forehead every few minutes and checking his pulse every few seconds. The poor boy was growing weaker every second. It had only been a week, but Oscar convinced himself that unless their situation bettered, this was how Philip would die. He still didn’t get it, though. The day they were taken out of the castle, Philip was as healthy as ever. Now, only a week into captivity, Philip was gravely ill. Oscar tried to come up with reasons for himself, but he eventually decided that it must have been poison. But, how could Philip have been poisoned? What had Philip eaten that Oscar hadn’t eaten? One thing crept into his mind, water. True, Oscar had a sip of water, but it was barely a few drops. Philip had much more. And Oscar had made him drink it.

But Philip was sick before that, or that could have truly been dehydration.

A noise behind him made Oscar turn around to gaze into the outside. Through the wooden bars, he watched as the sorcerer placed down a chunk of old, moldy bread. The staleness and moldiness aside, Oscar was starving. And Philip was starving, he reached through the bars, finding it much harder to get to now. Oscar felt a stinging pain in his arm and darted it back inside. He didn’t know what caused it, but he did know he was to not reach for the bread yet. 

The sorcerer said nothing. He went and sat down at the table, watching as Oscar questioned the small bit of bread in front of him that he wasn’t allowed to have. Once or twice Oscar considered reaching out and just grabbing the life-giving bread, but decided against it. He didn’t want to be hurt again. The sorcerer only watched him. Oscar stared back. He noticed that rather than the usual two, there were many chairs in the small room. At least a dozen. 

A while later, an older man Oscar had not yet seen stumbled into the room. He looked drunk and had a long, unkempt beard and similarly-looking hair. The man looked into the grate, but his drunk eyes and mind were too diluted to notice the presence of two real and suffering humans. He saw animals.

The man hobbled over and leaned over to gaze into the cage. He stared with barely any sight in his eyes, then looked at the bread and guessed the distance. Then he growled at the boys, exposing his brown and rotting teeth. The sudden action scared Oscar, who backed away quickly in fear, nearly trampling Philip.

The drunk laughed and stood. “They scare like rats!” He yelled. The sorcerer nodded. 

“It’s almost too easy to scare them. It makes it all the funner. What do you say? Two hundred?”

Oscar froze as he contemplated the idea of being sold. That was what he thought was happening. It had been a week, was that the deadline for the ransom? At least they weren’t being killed. But were they being sold? Where would they go? Where were they now? Oscar had so many questions, among them was: “Why didn’t Nicholas save us?”

He kept telling himself that Nicholas loved him, and was probably doing everything in his power to make sure he and Philip were happy. But while Oscar was watching Philip sink further and further from life, and while he was watching the world with an empty stomach through bars in a tiny prison cell built into the wall, he couldn’t help but think his step-father had forgotten him. Maybe it was because he wasn’t his real son. Maybe it was because nothing could love him after all. Maybe Oscar just wasn’t worth loving.

Tears stung the backs of his eyes, but he forced them down. He wouldn't cry. He could cry when he was safe at home. But he would never go home. What was he even thinking? He was spending a week in captivity and ignoring the thousands born as slaves spending their lives in captivity. He was a prince! What right did he have to be sad? He shouldn’t be sad. 

Oscar saw the two men bartering, facing away from him. He darted a hand up and wiped away a tear. Unknowingly he started a process that couldn’t be stopped. He was crying now. He quickly gained control and vigorously wiped the tears away with his dirty hands, streaking mud across his face. As if there wasn’t dirt and mud there before.

The men turned back to him. A price of a hundred and fifty Phaos had been paid. A pitiful amount to a king, a goldy amount to a pauper. The drunk was not happy to hand over the money, so after the transaction had occurred he leaned down to the bars and looked Oscar in the eyes.

“Listen here you little rat, I can walk away with nearly three hundred Phaos, so don’t you dare reach that bread!” The drunk moved so casually that his coat tail fell to one side and a knife was revealed. “I’ve been told I’m aloud to hurt you, to cut you even. I’m even allowed to hurt your poor little friend there. Don’t blow this for me, or there’ll be blood tonight.”

As the night dragged on, in about an hour five more men arrived, some drunk, some young and poor. All handed money to the sorcerer and three of the five newcomers threatened Oscar. Now there were two that would hurt him if he reached the bread and two that would if he didn’t. Either way, he would be hurt that night. He considered not reaching for the bread at all but thought that all six men would hurt him if he went with that.

Eventually, the men stopped coming. The sorcerer stood and told the men to sit down. In turn, he stood and faced them.

“Now here’s how this is going to work. The boy has been starved for a few days.  He is hungry and will do nearly anything for food. I’ve placed some bread a few feet from his cell, all he has to do to eat today is to reach out and grab the bread. But, it may be too far for him to reach. It could be so far that he’ll even just give up. You’ve all made bets on if he eats, or starves. If you guessed right, I will give you your money doubled. If you guessed wrong, I keep it. Questions?”

All the men shook their heads in solemn agreement. “All right then,” The sorcerer turned to the boy and crouched down. Of the six men, four had thought that Oscar would be able to reach the bread. With a bit of magic, he inched the bread further away. “If you’re hungry, you may eat,” the sorcerer said to Oscar. He stepped back and watched as Oscar did nothing, the boy looked up at the men watching him, then down at the bread, his stomach rumbled and he felt faint. He was starving. Every moment was painful for him.

“Get that bread!” Someone shouted, Oscar wasn’t sure. He felt a sting in his arm, undoubtedly from the sorcerer. Afraid the sting would continue, Oscar reached out toward the bread. He couldn’t get to it. But now he felt so close, just a few more inches and he would be able to eat. Philip would be able to eat.

With every second he was reaching, the men would shout at him. Either to keep going and it was just a little further, or to stop and give up there. Oscar relaxed his muscles and saw two of the men become satisfied, and the other four becoming disappointed. He wanted none of these men to win and wanted to try again, but the thought of getting a severe beating from two was more appealing than from four. He was hungry too. Eventually, his human mind that was unconcerned with long-term survival and only cared about that food on the ground won over. Oscar made another attempt.

This time, he felt a crumb on his fingertips. But unlike the first time he was forced to reach for his food, the crumb was not enough to bat the food closer. It was as it was. He could not reach the bread. It took a moment for this to sink in. His mind satisfied itself, knowing he would have to try again the next day.

He recoiled back into his cage and folded his arms together. The sorcerer bent over and asked him a question. “Have you given up?”

Oscar nodded his head.

The Sorcerer smiled and turned to the men, eagerly waiting. The men that had bet on Oscar receiving food were hopeful that the boy was only resting before a second attempt.

“The boy has given up.” Two men cheered and gladfully accepted their doubled earnings and left. The four left growled and stared angrily at the man in front of them. One had paid nearly four centies--four hundred phaos and a couple weeks' earnings for him--and desired to not part with that money.

The sorcerer stared into these men’s faces and smiled. “Gentlemen, I am not to blame. He is.” The sorcerer stepped aside to see Oscar in his cage. The sorcerer held his arm toward Oscar, flicked his hand, and Oscar appeared out of the cell. The sorcerer then left the room, closing the door gently behind him. He heard Oscar shouting in pain and the men in anger.

The sorcerer smiled. How fond memories were.

Nicholas looked to his right and saw Joshua sitting next to him. He only looked long enough to recognize Joshua, then turned back to the window. When they were married, Emma and Lindon would spend long hours looking out the window, they had two chairs facing it. Nicholas had spent the better part of the last three days looking out that window and toward the ocean. He wasn’t eating. He only had a single glass of water every day before the evening window-watching session. 

Joshua sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the ocean and watching it. It was the same thing. Only, as he watched, it did the same thing differently every time. He could never describe how the waves rolled over each other, then subsided back to the ocean, little white foam bubbles being taken with it. Occasionally there would be a boat or a seabird to watch. It was much like when he was a boy waiting for some limb to heal from the newest torment from Harald and watching the waves with Emma’s mother. It was relaxing. 

“Is this about your children?” Joshua asked Nicholas. He didn’t know why someone would spend so many hours watching the ocean if not for some sort of worry. Nicholas nodded.

“Yes, Joshua. This is about my children. Did you think we were in Fior on holiday?”

“No, My Lord, I only meant that you’ve been spending an awfully long time watching the ocean. We could be searching for your children, asking around, and instead, you’ve been wasting hours watching the ocean.”

“I know, I don’t know what to do with myself. Every day I wake up knowing that there’s something I can do for them, then I just think that we’ve wasted so much time already that they must already be dead. What’s the point anymore?” Joshua listened closely and saw a tear roll down Nicholas’s cheek. He knew this was hard for him. He had thought his son was kidnapped twice before. The first time Philip had innocently run away to the north. He was under too much pressure to be king and came to Joshua in the middle of the night. Joshua would have never just let him go, but there were certain complications. The second time Philip was dragged off by outlaws that wanted to take him into Reighnwelsh where they would kill him as an act of retaliation against the monarchy. 

Both times Nicholas knew where his son was and what the villains were planning with him and when they would do it. Both times Philip was able to come home alive. This time Nicholas barely had any idea where to start. Not just Philip, but both his sons were in mortal danger and were in the hands of a mad man who had no definite plans with the boys.

“Nicholas, I want you to rest. I want you to take a long rest. Get a full night of sleep, eat something in the morning, and most of all, don’t just get up and look out the window. Sleep. Nap if you have to. I’ll go out early tomorrow and see what the word is on the street. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon and we can decide what to do from there. How does that sound?”

“I don’t want you fighting my battles.”

“Oh, I will not be fighting. If there’s any fighting involved I’m going to sit out. I find the boys, you bash some heads together and rescue them.”

Nicholas smiled. “Sounds wonderful.

“Good. Now sleep.”

Joshua stood up, Stretched, and went to bed, leaving Nicholas alone. A few minutes later, Nicholas joined Joshua. They were sharing an old room that Emma had shared with her sister when they were younger. There were conveniently two beds only a few feet apart on either side of the room. Nicholas saw Joshua fast asleep and crawled into his bed. He fell asleep quickly.

Horns blared on either side of him. He looked down and saw he was dressed like a king again. And he felt younger. He looked around and saw Philip playing in a corner. He couldn’t be more than five. He had a few little wooden horses he was messing around with. For a few minutes, Nicholas didn’t understand why he was standing in the middle of the great hall rather than playing with his son and holding his little hand.

“Presenting King Zachary Giffard of Reighnwelsh!” Someone shouted. Nicholas turned his attention back to the door and saw the Northern King enter. He was followed closely by his son, Elliot Giffard. Elliot was the same age as Philip. Nicholas hoped they’d become close friends so that when he and Zachary passed, the two princes would form an unbreakable union. Zachary was not one for peace, and it was a miracle Nicholas ever got him to even come to the conference. 

Zachary walked up the aisle majestically and stopped in front of Nicholas, where he bowed shallowly. Nicholas returned the gesture but made it a deeper and more respectful bow. 

“Where, Nicholas, is your son?” Zachary asked with a tone of voice that made it sound like he was offended that Philip wasn’t there.

“Oh, uh, he’s over here.” Nicholas stepped over to where Philip was playing and lifted him and carried him over to Zachary. “Just playing. He is only four.”

Zachary scoffed and placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. Elliot was only a few years older than Philip, and he kept looking over at the toys spread out in the corner of the room. “Elliot hasn’t played since he was a baby! I’m teaching him to be a real man. I plan to have him on a horse next year!”

“I’m sure he’ll be a very good king when he’s older. But don’t you think that six is a little young to be riding horses and practicing swordsmanship?”

“The Ignacians have their boys going to war at seven! I see no reason why I can’t get a head start with Elliot at six.”

“Nevertheless, a growing boy needs love and attention. And Philip’s so much happier when he’s been playing and napping. It makes dinner far more enjoyable.”

“I find discipline to be more effective to keep the tantrums down than kisses and snuggles. But to each his own, I guess.”

“Maybe you could let Elliot and Philip play together during the negotiations. I promise you, Elliot will be much happier.” Nicholas turned his head to look at Philip. He was holding him on one side so Philip was as tall as he was. “You are getting bigger every day, Philip. Why don’t you show Elliot your toys?” Nicholas set Philip down. The boy grabbed Elliot’s arm and took him to the corner where the two happily played and talked in their five-year-old dialect. Nicholas stretched out and watched Zacahry sit in amazement as his son smiled and giggled not from discipline, but from being truly happy.

“You can force obedience, but you just can’t force happiness, Zachary.” 

“I guess so,” Zachary said, wonderstruck. He looked up at Nicholas, then back at Elliot and Philip. “I haven’t seen him smile since he was a baby. How did you do that?”

Nicholas chuckled. “I didn’t do anything! Philip did.”

“If you can make my boy happy, maybe you really can make peace with all four kingdoms, I say it’s quite ambitious, but maybe it could be done.”

“Then let us get started. I’m sure you need to rest. We have a wonderful room for you and your son ready to go. I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

Zachary was still staring at his son in awe, he nodded and let Nicholas guide him away. The two boys played and laughed for a long time. 

A few hours later, Nicholas came back into the room and took Philip by the hand. “Zachary’s asleep. It’s time for bed.”

“But what about supper?” Philip asked. He looked up at Nicholas with a question in his eyes.

“I told you, Philip, We had a late lunch and a big one. We’re not eating supper tonight.”

“But we need to have supper! It’s part of the day.”

Nicholas laughed. “Did Joshua tell you that?” Philip nodded in a five-year-old way. Nicholas turned to Elliot, who stood up and was standing very different from the way he had when he came in. The boy was more relaxed and happier. “It’s your bedtime, too,” Nicholas told the child.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Elliot said. “Sleeping is boring.”

“If he can stay up, can I?” Philip asked.

Nicholas sighed and looked at the two boys. He smiled. “Fine, fine. You can both stay up, but only until you get annoying.” Leading them by the hand, Nicholas took the two boys to Philip’s bedroom. He saw them in the room and left. “I’ll be working in my office if you need me.”

A few hours later, Nicholas came down and checked on the boys, he saw them playing a game similar to the one Philip would play with Oscar years later. Without saying anything, or even tripling the guard on the boys as he should have, Nicholas closed the door. Then he opened it again. As if by magic, years passed and he saw his son with his hands tied behind him. The look in his eyes was desperate, and Nicholas wanted to save him, but couldn’t. He didn’t even move. Philip’s gaze flicked quickly from his father to something ahead of him. There was a scream, and Nicholas saw Philip’s body fall to the ground. The room he was in melted away and became a dark and foreboding prison cell, bars were separating Nicholas and Philip. Nicholas tried to push his way through, but he couldn’t. 

Oscar entered the cell, he was alive. Oscar bent over Philip, then looked back at Nicholas.

“We’re waiting for you to save us. Why did you leave us here?”

~ ~ ~

“Nicholas, wake up,” Joshua said while gently pushing against Nicholas’s shoulder. “You’re sweating.”

Nicholas gently came out of his terrible dream. He still saw Oscar’s face. He looked betrayed. He looked hurt. His face was so fallen and it burned into him. Those bars were keeping him away from his son. His son was the only reason they earned a peace treaty with Reighnwelsh. And he watched as that sorcerer killed him.

The king sat up in bed, a hand against his head. He had a headache there. He moaned and tried to blink until the image of his poor little boys left him.

“Good. You’re alive. I’m leaving. You can go back to sleep. Emma likes to sleep in late. She’ll be up in about an hour.”

“Hard to think you like her. You wake up at seven every morning.”

For a moment, Joshua didn’t catch what exactly Nicholas had said and agreed with him. Yes, Emma and he didn’t exactly follow the same schedule, but that could be condoned. “I do not like her!”

“So you hate her? If you don’t like her, then you hate her?”

“No, I like her, I just don’t-”

“So which is it? Do you like her or do you hate her?” Nicholas chuckled to himself. It wasn’t often he could get such a leg-up in these conversations with Joshua.

“I like her, I don’t love her!”

“Yes, but you don’t have to love someone to want to love them. I think that you like Emma, and you wish you could love her.”

“I do love her!”

“So you admit it!” Nicholas watched as Joshua stumbled over his words trying to come up with a stinging rebuke. 

Joshua took a breath and looked Nicholas in the eyes. “So, by your philosophy, a man can be in love with one woman, and want to be in love with another?”

“I never said that.”

“But you did say that you don’t have to love someone to want to love them, so-”

“Fine, you win. You don’t like Emma, but you also do like her as a person.”

Joshua nodded briefly, satisfied. “Good. Now I’m going out to find your sons. Emma will be up in an hour. I suggest you go back to sleep.” Joshua stood and left out the door. Nicholas chuckled and laid down, going back to sleep. He sat awake for a while, afraid of having the same dream.

Eventually, he did fall asleep, but he dreamt about a long boring meeting with the lords and ladies of the kingdom. He woke up well into the late morning. It was nearly noon. He didn’t mind, though. He felt well-rested and got up for the day, he saw the ocean and heard it rolling over itself and the calming noise it gave. He decided against sitting down and watching the boats come into the harbor. Instead, he saw Emma sweeping in the kitchen and went to her. He took the broom and finished the chore himself for her.

He watched as she smiled while watching him. It made him happy to see her happy. He couldn’t get his mind off his sons, but the ensuing conversation was almost as calming as the ocean.

Joshua felt in some ways a little awkward going to the market. He only met two people he knew. One didn’t know him, and the other knew him and was in tears to see him alive, but Joshua barely knew her. The woman’s name was Angelia. She was Emma’s best friend as a child. Joshua knew her in the way that she was a friend of a friend. He knew her name and not much else. 

Many women in the market pointed at Joshua and even questioned him. To lower suspicion--and because what Nicholas had said about him loving her was correct--Joshua said his wife was busy at home and he was doing the shopping for her. After all, that was slightly true. Many of the women fawned over him for doing such menial chores for his wife. Others were curious and asked about who his wife was and when Joshua answered, they all scoffed and said it was about time that Emma moved on from losing Lindon the previous year.

As for Angelia, she burst into tears when she heard that Joshua and Emma were married. She knew Emma loved him, and that Emma was devastated when he was dragged off into the woods all those years ago. The entire town seemed to mourn. Most people knew Joshua, but only a few were able to help him while his family abused him. Then Cholera hit and most people Joshua knew as a child died or fled. It made it nice in some sense. No one recognized Joshua. This was nice for Joshua since he didn’t enjoy much attention. 

After about an hour of shopping, he began to lose hope for the two boys since he had been expecting to find his brother boasting about having kidnapped two boys and about his plans to mercilessly kill them.

Instead, he found himself with his shopping nearly completed and without a single inkling of information about Philip or Oscar. That is until he found himself in front of the town tavern. At first, he desired to quickly walk past and ignore the strong smell of alcohol and the raised voices of drunk individuals. He always got a headache when he stayed in such places long enough. But today he saw Lindon’s father having a drink. Out of plain excitement and curiosity, he sat down in front of the man. It was a nice autumn day and there were tables set outside.

“Who are you?” Lindon’s father asked.

Joshua smiled. While Lindon could have been kinder to him, his father was always nice and caring. It was hard to believe that losing his entire family in only a year could drag such a cheerful man so far down. “It’s me, Oden. Joshua. I survived and I’ve come back to town.”

The retired blacksmith looked up at Joshua. His blurry vision from at least a dozen drinks was making his recognition of the boy foggy.

“You sure got old.”

“That’s what thirty years can do to you. I’m sure you know.”

“But your brother said you were dead. We all assumed he murdered you.”

“I ran away. I escaped from him.” Joshua said the words proudly, then felt his spirits sink. He was able to escape from Harald, but Philip and Oscar were finding that task a little difficult. Oden caught the shrinking and laughed.

“You must be thinking of those boys he has in the basement! Won me nearly three hundred phaos just last night! Lucky, too. Half a dozen others gave that one a good and hard beating. People like their money, they do.”

Joshua’s eyes lightened up. “Boys? How old were they? What did they look like?”

“Now what made you so interested? They were the rich type. By the looks of ‘em, Harald had been keepin’ ‘em locked up for about, eh, a week or two. Must have taken them away from their mum and is charging a ransom. Nice to make a few coins while they wait.”

Joshua was glad to see that Oden had forgotten about his previous interest. “Yes, but their hair and eye color? How many are there? Are they related?”

“If you’re so interested why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

“Could I? Won’t Harald be keeping them?”

“You’re not still afraid of that older brother of yours, are you? You’ve had age thrown on you! He won’t recognize you anymore, Joseph!”

“It’s Joshua, Oden are you all right? Do you need me to take you home, you seem drunk.”

“I most definitely am. I think I’ll be fine here. Got me a pretty penny from gambling last night. He’s keeping the boys in his house in the basement. Go and check them out if you’re interested. And, if he asks you to gamble, go for starving. They didn’t eat last night. Doubt they will tonight. The show starts after dark when people stop showing up. If you get there early he’ll let you examine them.”

“I’ll have to be there. Take care of yourself, Oden.” Joshua stood up, nodded his goodbyes, and set back off toward Emma’s house with the news. He began to be grateful that Oden was so heavily intoxicated, otherwise, he would have never shared the information about the two captives in the basement. He would go see them that night and be sure it was them and get a sense of how to rescue them. Then he would try to get a message to them and restore their hope and tell them that their father loved and missed them greatly.

He found himself running in some ways and ran in on a louder house than he had expected. He saw Nicholas and Emma talking. Nicholas didn’t seem too worried for his children until Joshua ran into the room, then he stood and immediately took the groceries from his arms and sat him down at the table. Joshua caught his breath and smiled at Nicholas.

“They’re alive, and I know exactly where they are, too!” Joshua said with a heavy amount of joy in him. Nicholas smiled in return.

“Where are they?”

“In my old home. I’m going there tonight to see if they’re as well off as I’ve heard. I’ve been invited to gamble. I don’t know what that means, and that’s what I’m going to find out. But it doesn’t sound even remotely humane. I was told that they’re alive and that one had a severe beating last night. I don’t know who it was, but it’s definitely Oscar and Philip they’re talking about.”

“I want them here. I want them safe.” Nicholas looked into Joshua’s eyes.

“I know my house. All I have to do is scope out what security they have and where they are. I’ve been told I can give them a close inspection. I wish you could be there, but not only will they recognize and probably identify you, which would be bad, but if I showed up with you, Oden would get confused. And when people are confused they ask questions. You could write the boys a note that I could give them.”

“I assure you, I will. Joshua, find my sons, tell me they’re safe. And tell them I love them and I haven’t given up on them. And please let them be alive.”

“They’ll be okay, Nicholas. Harald has them on display tonight. I’ll go over after supper. I promise, Nicholas. They’ll be just fine.”

~ ~ ~

Oscar felt shaken awake and opened his eyes from the depths of sleep to see Philip. He smiled and sat up straight. After bumping his head against the ceiling, he looked back at his step-brother.

“Are you healed?” Oscar asked.

Philip shook his head. “No, but he said that if you didn’t wake up, he’d hurt you. And you’re already in so much pain.” Philip took a deep breath and rested back against the wall. “Oscar, am I going to get better? Is this just a cold or a slight fever? Or am I dying?”

Oscar was quiet. The sorcerer had told him that Philip was indeed going to pass from this illness, but he couldn’t bear to tell him. Oscar was hurt, he was bleeding and had multiple bruises and his left forearm hurt like mad and was swollen up into a blue and purple mess. He thought it was broken, but he wasn’t sure. He kept it cradled in his other arm and that helped a little. The boys heard steps down the stairs and Oscar turned to look, but Philip was asleep again. He was sweating and panting as well.

Oscar saw the sorcerer walk down the stairs and saw a man trail behind him. This man was tall and thin and had golden reddish-blonde hair. He stood out from the typical shorter brown-haired Langdinion race, almost like Joshua did. Oscar was led to believe for a few moments that this was Joshua. He felt his hopes fly, then crash as he saw the man look in their direction, then back to the sorcerer, not seeming to pay them an ounce of care.

“They look good enough. Ten phaos.”

“Ten! I’ve had men gamble on a hundred.”

“If I bet a hundred phaos my wife would kill me! Twenty on them eating. And that’s all.” The man’s voice was rough and had an accent to it. This wasn't Joshua. Joshua wasn’t married. Joshua didn’t have an accent. Langdinion or otherwise. He said every letter of every word without giving any more or less sound. It was weird to hear, almost like he did have an accent, but he didn’t. “On second thought,” the man said, “I’d like to get a closer look.”

The sorcerer moved aside and gestured toward them. “Be my guest.”

The man took his chance and casually walked over to the two boys in the cage. He leaned over and pulled out an envelope from his pocket. In a whisper, he said, “Hide this somewhere. It’s from your father.” Joshua made no effort to disguise his voice anymore. He handed the letter to Oscar, who took it quickly and placed it behind him, then he shoved it under Philip, who barely noticed.

“Joshua? Is that you?”

Joshua smiled and nodded. He watched the boy’s eyes lighten. “Are you boys all right? Your father’s been worried sick.”

“Philip’s very ill. It’s not just dehydration. I think he’ll die soon. He’s not doing well. And I think my arm’s broken.”

“But you’re not hungry? Are you two ever cold?”

“Most of the time we’re both. Joshua, I want to go home. Will you take us home? I want to go with my mother.”

“Not today. But I promise Nicholas won’t let you be here for much longer.” Joshua stood straight and turned back to the sorcerer. He scoffed. “The one has a broken arm,” he said with his impression of an accent.

“And?”

“Well, I have a couple of things to wonder about. First and foremost, how could he possibly reach a bit of food with a broken arm? And secondly, how did he get a broken arm?”

“Well, first of all, he doesn’t reach for the bread. Secondly, you’ll soon find out how he broke his arm, especially since you bet on them eating.”

“I haven’t paid you yet!” Joshua yelled.

“I guess you’re right, so twenty Phaos on them starving?”

Joshua took a step closer to the sorcerer. “No. Still on them eating. They’re looking thin. I hope to see them get a little food in them. What’s wrong with the one in the back?” Joshua gave Harald the money and sat down.

“The little runt’s been sick. Nearly for a week. I’ve been a little upset. If he dies, there’s not much profit for me. But there’s still the other one. Not like he’s been doing much all sick like that. I’ve been thinking about killing him in advance. Now that I’m saying it aloud, I think I will tonight. You could watch it if you’d like. Especially if you want to watch the healthy one scream.”

Joshua turned his head to Oscar, he hung his head against the bars. He was scared. Too scared to speak against Harald. Joshua saw a few tears fall to the wood ground.

“No, thank you. I’m not going to stay. I can’t handle the blood too well. Memories. And it makes me vomit.” Joshua brushes his hand across the scar on his face.

Harald took a good look at it. “Now how’d you deserve a thing like that?”

“Fight. A bad one, too. The guy was drunk. I tried to get out of it.”

“Looks like one I gave to my brother a few decades back. He killed someone I loved. Gave him a good beating and left him for dead.”

“How terrible. Good on you for giving him what he deserved.”

“Yes, yes. Now, what was your name?”

“Kason.”

“That’s an odd name, isn’t it? Not something normal.” 

“I happen to agree with you. I had strange parents. Now then, my curiosity won’t leave me alone today. What do you do with the boys? When you’re not using them for gambling?”

“Why I don’t bother to make them comfortable. They’re animals. I feed them when they deserve it and punish them likewise. As you can see, a couple of beatings and they’re also as quiet as animals.”

“Right. Animals.”

Joshua looked down and toward the boys. Another three minutes passed and showed Oden and another three men. Joshua saw that he had arrived fairly early as it took another fifteen minutes for more men to show up. He found himself in the back of the room of people yelling and shouting horrible abuse at the two boys in the cage. Oscar has his head hung down in shame. Philip was barely aware of anything. He was awake and conscious, but he was too sick to care.

Silently, Joshua slipped out in the noise and ran back to the house.

Nicholas was normally a heavy sleeper. He lost this habit when his sons were taken and began to wake at the drop of a pin. This made it so that when Joshua took a step into the room, throwing clothes at him in the dark and yelling and shouting for him to grab his sword and get dressed and hurry, Nicholas was awake and standing, fully dressed, in only a few seconds. Joshua shoved him out of the room hurriedly, and when he was gone he made the bed neatly, then folded the covers over so it’d be easy to lay down and pull them up. He did the same to his bed and then followed. He raided the kitchen and found in a cupboard a bag of medical supplies. It was very crude, with a rag to clean wounds and a roll of linen bandages. There was also an assortment of potions made from plants that could aid in some amount of healing. Emma’s mother was an expert in herbal remedies.

Nicholas watched as Joshua placed the bag on a stool in the room and kept pushing him out the door. Nicholas turned and grabbed Joshua’s arms, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Joshua, I want you to tell me what in the world is happening. Where are my sons?”

“They’re safe. For now. Philip is too sick to do anything. Harald is using Oscar for gambling. He’s going to kill Philip tonight. In only a few minutes.”

Joshua watched Nicholas’s eyebrows rise and sweat bead on his forehead. It was at this moment that a terrible, blood-curdling scream ripped into the air. Nicholas was frozen where he stood. After a minute of it sinking in, he turned around and opened the door, running outside. Joshua followed but saw Emma behind him. Hurriedly, he turned to her for a quick conversation before chasing after Nicholas.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked, “Did you hear the scream, too?”

Joshua nodded quickly. “Nicholas and I will go and investigate, you stay here. Philip may have just been killed. They’re in the old house.”

“You can’t go back there, Joshua, you can’t!”

“I must, Emma. This is what happens when you get involved with Nicholas. He makes you do crazy things you’d never do by yourself!” Joshua added the last part loud enough for Nicholas to hear, who was still trying to run out the door but was impatiently waiting for Joshua. He stood straight and stared at the slower man.

Nicholas grabbed Joshua’s elbow and dragged him out the door. “Won’t you just come along? Joshua, my son is dead.”

Joshua straightened himself out and followed behind Nicholas. The chill night air made Joshua shudder. His home was not much different from Emma’s, except that it had a small basement in it. The basement was a single, very dark stone room. That was where Joshua slept. Joshua would even bet that there was still blood from when one of his brothers or his father would beat him. In the middle of the night, he would wake up to his brothers’ evil grin. If they had a bad day, they would take out their frustrations on him.

Nicholas walked right up to the door. Joshua noticed a sword on his belt. Nicholas raised his arm to knock on the door but was stopped by Joshua.

“What in the world will you say? ‘heard screams, only thought you were murdering my son?’ We’ll go around the back. There’s a door, it’s never locked. And if it is, the wood should be so rotten you could break it with your breath,” Joshua whispered. This time, he grabbed Nicholas by the elbow and dragged him to the back of the house. Surely enough, they found an unlocked door and stepped in. Joshua again felt a chill walking into the house that had served as the location for many of his tormentings. 

The two silently wandered through the house until they heard begging. A boy’s voice. Nicholas couldn’t recognize it. It was small, and it was in tears. Nicholas only assumed it was one of his boys and ran quickly down the stairs, drawing his sword as he went. Joshua followed slower behind him, pausing at the top of the stairs to his old bedroom. The location of so many sorrows in his childhood lay just beyond him. He was able to walk down there earlier in the night, but that was when he knew that Oscar and Philip were alive, now there would be blood, and a body, maybe even two. One whimpering in pain and reminding him of too much of himself.

Joshua turned around with a jolt when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Harald,” Joshua mumbled.

Fortunately for Joshua, the sorcerer did not recognize the man in front of him. “How do you know my name, Kason?” Harald asked. “I will warn you not to lie.”

Joshua remained silent. Harald now noticed the scars on Joshua’s face and arm. He then noticed the way that Joshua plain out refused to make eye contact. Just like when he was a boy. “I don’t believe it. Joshua Russel. Back from the dead, I see? I do hope reincarnation was painful.”

Joshua tried to mumble an excuse but found no words. He was too terrified. This man had terrorized him for his entire childhood. He feared Harald above all else. Harald laughed in his face.

“You’ll notice I didn’t call you a Lynwood. You are no Lynwood. Murderers can never be Lynwoods.” Harald gave Joshua a large shove, sending him falling down the wooden stairs. The fall had Joshua hitting his head multiple times. Joshua was unconscious when he stopped falling, lying still on the stairs with his feet above him. Harald stepped down and took his pulse.

“Alive, how unfortunate. Now, all we have left is to take care of your friend, wait for you to wake, and make your departure more painful.”

Nicholas, hardly caring for what happened to Joshua and assuming he was following behind, burst through the door to find seven men circling a boy like wolves. The boy was alive, but barely. He was lying on the ground, in too much pain to do anything. The poor child was begging to be left alive. Begging and crying. The child was facing the door but sadly could not see through his tears and the blood matting his face. Another boy was off to the side in a wooden cage, he was sweating and still barely aware of the events around him.

“Get away from my son!” Nicholas yelled with every ounce of fury he could muster. He was ready to kill these men. Half were drunk, and like the previous night, the other half were young. The young men pulled out their weapons, believing that they had a chance. The drunks scurried out of the room like roaches from a light. They scurried out and up the stairs. If Nicholas had cared to turn around, he would have noticed Joshua and the sorcerer. But he did not turn around.

Nicholas faced the three leftover men. Unknown to him, Oscar--who was the unfortunate child--was being dragged back toward his prison. He was locked inside again. This time, however, he was chained. His hands were held behind his back and connected to the wall. The same was done to Philip.

One young man launched himself at Nicholas, but Nicholas deflected the attack easily. The man he was fighting was caught off guard and received a large gash on his side. The blood spilled from the wound would become deadly if left untreated. Fortunately, the wound was worse than it was thought to be and the man died moments later.

“I’ll let you two go, but you must leave now and throw down your weapons.” One young man did throw his weapon to the floor and ran, stepping over Joshua. “And you? Do you want to die?” Nicholas asked the remaining man.

The last young man shook his head and made the same mistake as the first, this time Nicholas gave him the pleasure of a quick death, he stabbed the man through the heart. Now Nicholas turned himself towards the puddle of blood where Oscar had been. Then he saw the grate in the wall. Nicholas tossed his sword aside and ran, sliding in to meet his sons. The two boys were in terrible shape. Oscar was barely holding on to consciousness, Philip was asleep with that illness. The two princes were squished in the tiny space close together. Nicholas reached through the bars and rested a hand on Oscar’s cheek. 

“It’ll be okay, Oscar, I’m here now. I’m going to take you home. I love you.”

Oscar let a few tears fall at the sentiment and the sweet touch from his father. “You came,” he mumbled, but Nicholas wasn’t able to hear it. Peacefully, Oscar slipped away into unconsciousness.

Nicholas felt something behind him. When he looked back, he saw Joshua with his hands bound tightly in front of him. What was worse was that there was a knife held at his throat. Harald was holding this knife. Another man was standing at Harald’s side with a crossbow. The weapon was armed and ready. The deadly point was aimed at Nicholas, but it shifted from Nicholas to Joshua, to Philip and Oscar. Joshua was barely conscious, yet was still struggling against his captor.

“Not one step, your Kingship. I have plans for this evening. First, I finally rid the world of a criminal that has been galavanting around for decades. Then, I do what I promised you I’d do. I kill your sons-”

“No!”

“Yes, your Kingship. Then, finally, I kill you. This certainly has turned out better than I ever could have hoped for!”

Joshua caught Nicholas’s eyes with fear in his own. Joshua always feared dying at his brother’s hands. Especially after escaping. The knife pressed deeper into his throat and he gripped his eyes shut to prepare for death to take him. He heard blurs of sound, Nicholas screaming objection, his brother calling him a murderer, and strangely, he heard Emma. Not as she was now, but as she was when they were young. Sweet, kind, caring Emma. The Emma that bandaged his arm when his brothers broke it. The Emma that fed him when his family would not. The Emma that would give him blankets to keep him warm in the winter. The Emma that was running to his rescue at that very moment.

Joshua and Harald felt something run into them at the same moment. Miraculously, this thing hit so perfectly that the knife already pressed deep into Joshua’s throat was not able to go in deeper. Joshua and his wicked brother were thrust to the ground. Joshua felt Nicholas on top of him. Nicholas had a dagger with him as well as his sword and used this dagger to cut Joshua free. Joshua gagged and slurped up the wonderful air, coughing as he did so. He rubbed his neck and found blood. Blood that he only wiped off on his shirt front.

Harald had not been as lucky. The knife dropped from his hand and hit him in the foot. He screamed in pain and looked at Wulfric.

“KILL HER!!” He shouted. He repeated the order, much louder. 

Emma was on the floor and looked up to a crossbow directed right down her nose. Joshua summoned what little strength he had and ran to his Emma, throwing himself between her and the crossbow. Harald repeated his order to kill her, but Wulfric could not with Joshua in the way.

“Kill both, you idiot!”

Emma suddenly grabbed Joshua, turned him around, and kissed him, while in shock, Joshua felt shoved aside and heard a crossbow firing. He heard himself scream, saw Emma fall with a crossbow bolt sticking out of her chest, and felt himself being hurled over her body and his body heave with tears of sorrow for her death.

Harald hopped into a chair and pulled out the knife from his foot. “Guess you know how it felt now, the day you killed my mother. It hurts, doesn’t it? Losing a woman you love? It’s all right, though. I guess now we’re even.”

Joshua stood up, slowly, and with a face full of grief. “Even? You think we’re even? You tortured me for ten years of my life. You dragged me into the woods and tried to kill me. You tied me to the dock and left me to drown in the ocean, you dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night just to beat me into a pulp. And now you kidnap my nephews, kill the only person that ever showed me any kind of affection when I was a boy, and you call this even? Do you honestly think that I didn’t miss my mother? Do you think that a boy can even grow up without a mother while being constantly tormented by his siblings? What kind of sick mind do you have!?” Joshua shouted the last part. He gripped the knife on the table and took a step toward Harald “When you left me for dead in the woods it was the best day of my life. We were even long before that. But you’re right, Harald. I’m not a Lynwood. I never want to be a Lynwood. Lynwoods are dirty, rotten fiends after their own selfish gain. I’m a Collins. And you Lynwoods have hurt my family. So I will make it even now.”

Joshua raised the knife, but before he could bring it down on the sorcerer, felt it taken from his hand. He looked down at his older brother, magically holding the knife. He lodged it into the table.

“Wonderful speech, Joshua. Truly magnificent. But you’re forgetting something.” Harald held himself uncaringly for a moment. He straightened out and wandered away from Joshua, keeping eye contact with his younger brother and using magic to keep the pain from his foot. “I have magic, you idiot!”

The wooden bars on Oscar and Philip’s prison vanished. Nicholas seized the moment and scooped up his sons in his arms, vowing never to let them out of his sight. Philip was pale and had a terrible fever. Oscar was shaking and was covered in blood and bruises. Some injuries were older than others, but all were bad and needed immediate attention. Then Nicholas noticed something else. Chains. Nicholas saw chains running from his sons to the wall. They were still trapped. Joshua noticed the same and locked eyes with his brother.

“The key,” He said. Harald smiled. 

“You want a key? There’s nowhere for a key to go!” Harald yelled with a laugh. Joshua ran to his nephews and with all the care he had, examined the bands on their wrists. He looked at Nicholas. 

“There’s not a keyhole,” Joshua whispered to him.

Oscar, still going in and out of consciousness, looked up at his beloved Father. Nicholas caught his eyes and squeezed him tighter. “It’ll be all right, Oscar. You’ll come home tonight. I promise.” Oscar blinked and let his head fall over to rest on Nicholas’s chest. 

The sorcerer had heard this sentiment and smiled. He picked up the knife that was in the table using magic and held it in the air. 

“Yes, he may be going home tonight, but the other will not,” Harald said. The knife sped toward Philip, point first without spinning, propelled by magic. Oscar saw the knife head toward his brother, it all seemed to happen in slow motion. He had already given himself up so many times to save Philip. The events of the night are a good example. He was screaming for his brother’s salvation and in an act of mercy, Harald said to have him beaten to death to save Philip. What was one more sacrifice? To end this earthly pain and move on. He was never Philip’s real brother in the first place.

He was chained up and watching death approach his helpless friend. He could barely move without being in pain. Then he suddenly wasn’t any of that. He was flung upward and landed on top of his brother. Then he was screaming in pain as the knife bit into his skin.

Harald smiled. It had gone just as he hoped, better even. He released Oscar at the right moment. Now the knife was dealing blow after blow, ripping him to shreds while he screamed.

Joshua, watching from a distance, shouted his abject and ran to grab the knife. Fighting against the magic, He pulled the knife from Harald’s control and ran to his brother, pointing it at his throat, he said, “Now release Philip.” 

Harald smiled. “An empty threat. You wouldn’t kill me. I still hold the magic. Philip can’t go free unless I release him.”

Joshua growled. “You’re right. I can’t kill you, I can kill him,” Joshua turned to Wulfric, who had failed to load another bolt into his crossbow and was effectively helpless. He pointed the knife directly under the man’s chin. Wulfric backed against the wall, and his gaze went towards Harald.

“Go ahead. He’s always been useless anyhow.”

Joshua smiled. He knew Harald was bluffing. Relentlessly, Joshua killed Wulfric. He slashed the man’s throat open and the dead body slid down the wall and joined the other four on the ground. He took the knife, still doused in blood, and turned to Harald. Harald was indeed calling Joshua’s bluff and didn’t think he’d actually kill. He stared blankly at the body on the ground. Then at Joshua. Joshua lunged toward his foe, and Harald stumbled backward. The cycle of lunge and back away continued until Harald was flat against the wall and Joshua was pushing the knife into his throat.

“Now release my nephew. I can and will kill you.”

“So you really are a murderer.” 

Joshua pushed the knife deeper and kicked his brother hard in the shins. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” Joshua said. “Much like this did.” Joshua moved a finger along the scar on his face.  He watched Harald stare at him with fear.

“Release him, or I’ll show you the same kindnesses you’ve shown me. Drown you in the ocean, beat you up and leave you for dead, stuff you in a damp, cold, and dark room, and never even feed you. I can do it all. If you want freedom, you’ll release my nephew. I can give you the same life you’ve given me. Now release him.”

Harald, seeing the dead seriousness in his younger brother’s eyes, nodded his head vigorously, then raised his hand and the chains fell off of Philip.

Joshua received confirmation from Nicholas and went back to him. Joshua caught out of the corner of his eye the sorcerer trying to escape. Joshua was on him in a minute. He tackled his brother to the ground and looked up at Nicholas.

“Well, you’re the king. What’s his sentence?”

“Death. He kidnapped my sons, tortured them, starved them, and he may just have killed Oscar.”

“If you say so.” Joshua stabbed the knife deep into his brother’s heart. The man died instantly. Joshua then sprang up and gathered Philip in his arms, allowing Nicholas to tend to Oscar. Joshua placed his hand on Philip’s forehead. The boy was fast asleep, and he was sick with a fever. He had chills and his skin was pale-green.

Oscar was no better. In his heroic action of saving Philip, the knife made multiple cuts along his back and neck. He was still conscious, but in so much pain that he screamed as Nicholas turned him over. Nicholas cradled the boy in his arms and held him there. Oscar stared up into his face, with tears in his eyes.

“Take Philip back, put him in bed. Make him comfortable. I’ll be along in a few moments with Oscar.”

Joshua nodded and lifted Philip. Running out of the room and up the stairs, he did as he was told. Nicholas looked back down at Oscar. He had thrown himself in front of Philip regardless of the pain he was in. If Philip had been sick for much longer, Oscar may have even been doing such valorous acts for a while. Because of him, Philip was alive and would be well in only a few days.

Oscar mumbled something, but he didn’t move his jaw, only breathed out the words. Nicholas leaned in closer, and Oscar repeated the sentence.

“You’re gonna be all right, Oscar. Everything will be all right. I promise. Now just go to sleep. And when you wake up, you’ll be cuddled up in a nice warm bed and we’ll get you a hot meal and it’ll be just like it was. Just go to sleep.”

“Philip,” Oscar mumbled.

Nicholas smiled at his son. “Philip’s okay, and he owes it all to you, you saved his life, Oscar. Now go to sleep while I take you home.”

Oscar let his eyes drop closed. Nicholas lifted him, trying to be gentle, and walked up the stairs, kicking the door open with his feet and walking to Emma’s home. When he arrived, he went inside the room he had slept in the previous night. Joshua was sitting in a chair next to his bed, where Philip was lying. Philip was looking very comfortable and had the blankets drawn up to his chin. He was fast asleep and some small amount of color had returned to his face. Joshua was next to him and was sitting solemnly, watching the door. When Nicholas entered, Joshua stood quickly and led him to where Nicholas had slept. The covers were already drawn so when Nicholas set Oscar down, Joshua was ready with bandages, a rag, and a few straight pieces of wood to use as splints.

Joshua began by dipping the cloth into a bucket of water he had prepared. As gently as he could, he took Oscar’s shirt off and began dabbing at any wounds he could find. Oscar twisted and writhed in pain. Nicholas was at Philip’s side, thanking The Lord of The Only Shadow for letting him be all right. 

At the call of his name, Nicholas turned--as there were only a few feet between each bed--and saw his older son in pain. Without needing to be told, Nicholas gripped Oscar’s hand and pet the side of his face gently. With the touch of his father, Oscar was able to feel comforted and relaxed somewhat. But he was still in pain. Joshua continued to clean the wounds for another hour until finally he began to poke and prod looking for broken bones. He found two. One in his left forearm, this one needed to be reset and would cause excruciating pain, and one in his leg. The one in his leg was not as bad, but it was the upper leg, and this was the most painful to Oscar. Which was strange, as Joshua would have expected Oscar to be in much more pain. The breaking of this bone may have even been the cause for that scream they heard earlier. But now it would seem that Oscar wasn’t even feeling it. Joshua began to think of such crazy reasons for this apparent numbness. The thoughts scared him and he forced them away and instead just did the best he could. He was no healer, but Oscar could die that night if he didn’t do what he could. 

Joshua set a long piece of wood against Oscar’s right leg and bandaged it to the leg. The bandage quickly became stained with blood, but it was layered enough that one couldn't tell from a distance.

“I have to reset the bone in his left arm. It’ll hurt him,” Joshua told Nicholas. He watched as Nicholas gathered Oscar in his arms and Joshua took the left arm in his hand. He carefully placed his hands, then reset the bone. It caused Oscar to scream in pain. But Joshua was now able to place two splints along each side of the arm and bandage it. 

Philip shot up in bed. He looked around, saw his father, and smiled.

“Are we free now?” Philip asked. Nicholas turned around. He set Oscar down to fight through the pain and smiled at his son.

“Yes, Philip. You’re free now. You’re safe. Now relax. Go to bed. It’s very late.” Nicholas prodded Philip down and pulled the blankets back up. Philip turned over to his side facing Nicholas and kept looking up at him. He simply couldn’t believe it. He was free now.

Philip recovered quickly. Once he had food inside of him and entered a warm room with plenty of constant care from both Joshua and Nicholas, he was able to heal much quicker than Oscar. Then again, Oscar was much worse than Philip was.

Philip was still very sick. While the warmth and comfort of being free helped him, he was still healing. And Nicholas never left the room while he did. The poor boy was in agony. He slept for long periods of the day. Oscar was no better. Through a very painful procedure for him, Joshua stitched his back while Nicholas kept him still. Oscar was in pain every moment of that, but he was doing better now.

Two days after the rescue, Nicholas was waiting by Philip‘s bedside with a bowl of soup in the morning. When Philip woke up, Nicholas would feed him, help him if it was needed, and hoped to talk to him.

Oscar was just as hungry, but he wouldn’t be so lucky as to receive food anytime soon. He slept for hours a day, and when he did wake, he was far from healthy enough to eat. Nicholas kept begging Joshua to let him feed his boy, but Joshua always told him that eating would cause him pain and the prince would just have to be hungry.

Nicholas spent his entire expense of energy to stay awake and be with his children while they recovered. This meant sleeping very little, if at all. What sleep Nicholas did get was while sitting upright in a chair. But the location of his sleep was never what dilapidated it. Nicholas was worried. Every day as he watched Philip come closer and closer to health, he thought he saw Oscar getting worse and worse. Of course, this was imagined, but Oscar was not getting any better while Philip did heal.

Watching as the soup got colder and colder while Philip just slept was becoming agonizing for Nicholas. To watch while his son was in pain was the very meaning of evil to him. Joshua had gone out to the market and would be back with food later. Nicholas still wouldn’t even leave the room.

Philip rolled over in bed from his back to face Nicholas. Philip opened his tired eyes, blinked slowly, then let himself drift back to sleep. Nicholas set a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

“Come on, Philip. Wake up. I have some soup for you.”

Philip came out of his sleepy mind slowly, then managed to look up towards his father. He coughed and smiled at Nicholas. “I’ve missed you,” Philip said. “I’ve been so scared without you.”

Nicholas felt his heart break inside him. He loved his son endlessly, and the thought that he was afraid struck him deeply.

Joshua, who had not been in the room, walked in and saw Philip awake. He squatted down next to Nicholas and got Philip’s attention. “How are you feeling?” Joshua asked.

“Better. I feel better every day. How’s Oscar?”

Joshua looked to the ground and stayed quiet. Nicholas looked at him, and then got up quickly and went to his older son. Joshua didn’t answer questions when the answer was bad news. Nicholas grew a fear that Oscar was dying and ran to check on him. He sat on the bed and cradled Oscar’s face in his right hand. With his left, he took Oscar’s pulse. 

At the unexpected touch, Oscar moaned and woke up. He moved his head to catch Nicholas’s hand between his shoulder and cheek. He rubbed himself against his hand and smiled, but was still groaning.

Nicholas shot his gaze at Joshua.

“What’s wrong with him? He looks fine.”

Philip, not entirely sure what was going on, sat up in bed and looked between his father and his stepbrother. Joshua sprung up and stood over Nicholas’s shoulder. He bent over and whispered into Nicholas’s ear.

Nicholas laughed. “Don’t you dare try to make jokes with me, Joshua. Now really, is he okay?”

“He won’t be walking again. Or moving too much. Or even riding a horse or anything. He’s going to be crippled. Paralyzed, if you will. He can’t feel anything from his waist down. Nothing. He’s crippled. Forever.”

Now it was Nicholas’s turn to be quiet.  He looked back at his son. Oscar had stopped his constant motion and was staring straight at Nicholas. He knew that he couldn’t feel his legs, but he was hoping it was only a shock. Not something that would affect the rest of his life.

“Are you sure?” Nicholas asked Joshua. Positive even? He’ll never walk again?”

“I’m no healer, Nicholas, but it looks that way to me. I’m so sorry.”

With a tear in his eye, Nicholas turned to his son. Oscar was awake and was only meeting Nicholas's gaze.

“Is it true?” Nicholas asked. “Can you feel anything below your waist? Anything?”

Oscar shook his head. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. It felt strange to not feel. And he knew how twisted the thought was, but it was true.

“I’m sorry,” Oscar mumbled.

Nicholas felt another piece of him tumble away. Over the last few weeks, one bit of him fell after the next and he felt like there would soon be nothing left. “None of this is your fault, Oscar. We’ll get you home and to a real healer. They’ll be able to fix you and we can put this all behind us. Don’t worry. It’ll work out. It’ll be fine in the end. Don’t worry.”

Nicholas darted a hand up to wipe at a tear. As he did the action he knew inside of him that this was the end for Oscar. As a cripple, he wouldn’t get to do anything he was used to. He would be confined to his bed and would only be able to get around by being carried or while in a cart. He would never run again. Never walk again. Never be comfortable again. He wouldn’t go for a walk in the cool night air of summer or wrestle in the snow with other boys, freeze half to death and then warm up by the fire with something hot to drink. Oscar would never get to lie down on the soft green grass and look up at the clouds and make shapes out of them and argue about if a cloud looks more like a rabbit or a toad. He may never even have a normal conversation again. They may never get to talk about the weather or laugh at one’s petty mistakes and joke and tease. Everything they talk about would be about his health and if he was too cold or too hot or hungry or bored. And as much as Nicholas would love to give him the world and give him everything he could need to make the rest of his crippled life an enjoyable time for him, the pure fact that Oscar would be in pain was enough. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t play outside or chat about trivial little trifles, but that they couldn’t. Everything would have to be about Oscar’s health.

And what Nicholas didn’t know was that the same thoughts were in Oscar’s mind. Oscar would miss the warm kiss of the sun on his back as much as Nicholas would miss seeing him with the sun shining on him. It was strange. How something as simple as the sun, that small yellow dot in the sky, could make a world of difference just by being there. Those tiny little blades of green grass were so insignificant and small that there was no possible way that they would mean anything in any kind of life, but the fact that they were about to leave Oscar’s was making him fear the rest of his life. He was young. He had an entire life ahead of him. An entire life of being a cripple.

“I don’t want this,” Oscar whispered under his breath.

“None of us do,” Nicholas said in response. “But it’s what we have to live with whether we want it or not.”

“Why? Have we done something wrong?”

“I- I don’t know. We’re good people, Oscar. I don’t know why bad things happen. I guess that they just do. But we’re the ones that decide if it’s as bad as it wants to be. We have a wonderful gift called humanity. We can choose if we want to cause bad things like Harald did, or if we want to stop bad things, like what you did, or if we want to see a bad thing, and know that it’s part of life, and move on with a smile and with our chin up knowing that something better will come eventually.”

“But how can I smile at this? I’ll never walk again.”

“You can smile because if you weren’t crippled like this, Philip would be dead. And it could have been a lot worse. I could have lost both of you. I don’t want to say that your feelings are invalid. I want you to be sad, just sad enough that you’re human, and then I want to see you smile again. I don’t want to see you be destroyed by this. It can always be worse. For example, you could be sad about it. Some people have horrible things happen to them, and they go on being sad for the rest of their lives. The tragedy isn’t what happened, but that they won’t be happy. Try to see the bright side.”

“The bright side is looking pretty dark.”

“Try to see it. We’ll go home tomorrow.”

Oscar smiled and let himself drift back to sleep. Nicholas remained on the edge of the bed, watching Oscar and trying to be sure that as he went to sleep, he was completely peaceful. If he suddenly woke up in pain or fear, Nicholas wanted to be there to comfort him as soon as possible. He never wanted to condemn his son to suffer alone for any longer than was necessary. A tiny voice behind him caused him to turn around. 

“Will Oscar be all right?” It was Philip’s tiny little voice. Nicholas turned around and saw his child sitting upright in bed, the boy wore a look of concern on his face and didn’t seem completely happy or at rest. But not because he was uncomfortable or afraid, but because he didn’t want to be in the same situation as Oscar and come out perfectly healthy while Oscar had to deal with repercussions for the rest of his life. While none of it would be Philip’s fault, he would feel selfish and carry guilt with him for a long time. He wanted Oscar to be all right so he wouldn’t have to feel the guilt.

“No, Philip. But he’ll still have a wonderful life. And I know you’ll help him through it.”

Philip nodded but wasn’t satisfied. “Is it my fault?” 

Nicholas stood up and placed a hand on Philip’s shoulder. He squatted down and looked Philip in the eyes.

“Philip, I never want you to ever feel like any of this is your fault. You’ve done nothing except being a perfect little boy and being perfectly appropriate under the circumstances you’ve been faced with.”

“Was Oscar hurt on my behalf?”

Nicholas took a large breath. “Philip, you’re a prince. And someday you’ll be a king. Things are going to happen. People will not only be hurt but will die on your behalf. You have to get used to it. Oscar is not the first, nor will he be the last, to suffer on your behalf. And as long as you don’t order someone to go and die for you, you don’t have to feel the guilt.”

“What if we come to war, and I order some men to their deaths, but I never knew they would die?”

“I’ve done that many times. As a king you take risks. Being a leader isn’t making you and your group avoid failure nor is it about taking risks, it’s about being informed, keeping a good knowledge of things, and making knowledgeable decisions. And if it turns out that you chose wrong, you and your people can sleep peacefully knowing you made the best choice at the time. Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“Good to know.”

Nicholas shook his head and sat down. “The first of many good things to know. After all, you’ll be king someday.”

“Hopefully not soon.”

“Well, I don’t have to die to retire. When you’re ready and mature enough, I’ll retire and hold your hand while you get used to being king. Then when you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, will I leave you on your merry way.”

Joshua saw the fear rush into Philip and decided to add, “And I plan to live forever. You’ll always have me.”

Philip giggled and saw a kind and tender look on his father’s face.

“While it’s great to know the future, the present is still important. Philip, you’re still sick. You must be hungry if I am not mistaken.

“Starving. Harald wouldn’t feed us much.”

“That’s like him,” Joshua said.

Nicholas frowned and handed the bowl of soup to Philip, who immediately sat back against the wall and cheerily slurped up the delicious and nutritious life-giving meal.

Nicholas watched as Philip gratefully ate the long-awaited meal and looked back at Oscar. The boy was fast asleep. He was peaceful.

Joshua brought his hand up to his mouth again and smothered another violent cough. Nicholas glanced up at him, then back down to his work. A month after they had returned home they received a professional opinion from a healer who sadly admitted that Joshua was indeed correct. Oscar would not be walking again or feeling his legs at all. The healer offered the course of amputation, but Nicholas didn’t want him to be a cripple and look the part. Nicholas decided instead that Oscar would be without feeling in his legs, but with his legs.

Philip recovered almost before they even returned home. He resolved to not be helpless again like he had been and began his sword training more vigorously with the castle’s guard commander, Wesley. Wesley had also been a close friend of Philip when he was young. Many times Nicholas would try to make time in the evenings to watch his son practice, but the nights were growing longer and colder, and being outside for long periods of time at this time of year was beginning to become debilitating for Nicholas, especially with his advanced age.

Joshua again coughed, this time with a large sneeze.

“You sneezed wrong,” Nicholas said. Joshua looked up at him curiously with red, puffy eyes.

“Is there an incorrect way to sneeze?” Joshua asked in a nasally voice.

“Yes. And that’s how you just did it. Stuff is supposed to come out. You build up so long and then nothing comes out. It looks painful.”

“It is.”

“Then why don’t you let stuff come out?”

Rather than an answer, Joshua unleashed a long string of coughs, all of them fairly violent. He sniffled his nose and returned to his conversation.

“Apologies, Nicholas.”

“That does seem like quite the cold you have there. Why didn’t you just stay at home? You could have taken the day off. Things have been awfully slow.”

“You know I could never take the-” Joshua built up for a sneeze and after about a minute of quick breaths, he let go of a tiny kitten-sized sneeze. “Day off.”

“Do you see what I mean? You sneeze like a cat!”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No, it’s just not a normal thing,” Nicholas said.

“Most things I do aren't normal. In case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a special case.”

“You are, Joshua. And I have no idea what we’re ever going to do with you. What you need is some time off. Why don’t you lie to me more often? Most people lie to me all the time to get some time off. And here you are with a real and legitimate excuse to stay home and you’re suffering here with me.”

“Well, I guess this is my home in a way. Even if I were to stay home for, say, a week, I would wind up back here quicker than you think. Home is where I do what I love. Which makes this my home.” Joshua sneezed and coughed again.  “And besides, this is only the annual cold.” 

“Joshua, your voice is all nasally. Are you okay? We can get a healer.”

“No, no. I’ll live.” Joshua ended the conversation by looking back down at his work. “After all, it’s only a little mucus.”

There was a rapping on the door and Nicholas leaned over to Joshua. “Usually it’s bad news. Why don’t you perk up a bit?”

Joshua straightened out while Nicholas permitted anyone out there to enter. Nicholas smiled and stood as he saw his son enter the room with his head held high.

“Philip, so good to see you on your feet again. How do you feel?”

“Better than Joshua. And I thought you planned to live forever.”

“It’s not the plague!” Joshua coughed again. “On second thought, I’m dying. But only a little. I’ll be fine. Give it a week and it’ll go away.

Philip chuckled and turned back to Nicholas. “I came to tell you that I was just with Oscar. He’s awake, and he’s asked for his father.”

Nicholas smiled. “The poor boy. I’ll have to go and see him. And if someone happened to sneak away because he was sick I wouldn’t be angry.” Nicholas added the last part as a little passive aggressiveness towards Joshua. However, Joshua didn’t seem too phased.

“I’ll stay and finish up filing these reports,” Joshua said in his sick, nasally voice. He sneezed twice in a row and shivered.

Philip looked over at Joshua. “That doesn’t sound good. Are you okay?”

“That’s what Nicholas said,” Another sneeze and cough. “You’re turning into him. And I’ve told you two a million times, I'm fi-” Joshua again spent thirty seconds building up to a kitten-sized sneeze. “Fine!”

Nicholas shook his head at Joshua. “Oh Joshua, if only everyone had the same dedication as you do.”

“It’s a gift. Go see your son.”

With a cheerful grin, Nicholas followed Philip upwards to where Oscar was. There was one floor above the king’s office. This was used as a sleeping space for visiting monarchs from neighboring countries. Nicholas felt that to have them live above where he worked was a way of showing them respect. He valued respecting others and felt that as king, it was his duty to respect every creature on the Earth. Currently, and for the rest of time, this area would be Oscar’s bedroom.

Philip entered and saw Oscar sitting upright in bed, his left arm resting on his lap and his right propping up a book. When he turned a page, he slid his broken left arm up to hold the book, then flipped the page with his right. 

Oscar let the book fall and looked up excitedly to the door. Philip ran in and sat on the edge of the bed next to Oscar. However, Oscar was more intent on Nicholas.

Nicholas walked right up to the bed and sat on the edge near the foot of the bed. He put a hand around Oscar’s ankle affectionately.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Philip said. He then beckoned to the trio of healers and dozen guards in the room to follow. They offered no rebuttal and followed him out of the room. The fifteen men waited idly outside the room to re-enter. The three healers stood close to the door, listening for any sign that Oscar was in pain and needed attention. Philip was not angry with them for eavesdropping, it was their job. He simply guided them away from the door, explaining that if anything did turn for the worse, Nicholas would bellow for help and they could not miss it. He assured the twelve guardsmen the same way, yet that barely kept his mind at rest and he found himself only moments later with his ears tuned to every tiny little peep.

Back inside the room, the sun was just barely rising and allowed the fresh, golden light to pour inside. Oscar and Nicholas both stared at the hand on Oscar’s right ankle.

“I can’t feel that. It’s strange. It’s like they’ve fallen asleep, only they won’t wake up. It’s like they’re dead, but the rest of me is alive. The healers said that most people feel a little tingling, but they can move a little. I can’t feel them at all. I can see that they’re there, I just can’t move them at all.” Oscar took a large breath, he was closing in on the verge of tears. “You know, I never really knew how much I use my legs for. I thought it was only walking at first, but I can’t get comfortable in bed, I can’t stretch, I want to move my legs, and I try, I try so hard. Sometimes I’ll try for a straight hour, just to wiggle a toe, and still, nothing happens. It’s not like I can feel that nothing’s happening, there’s just nothing. I’m useless. I thought maybe I could go around in a wheelbarrow or a little cart or something. But how would I even get into it? I’m too heavy to be carried. And I couldn’t do it myself. I’m useless.”

Nicholas took his hand away from Oscar’s ankle and moved further up the bed. “No one’s useless, Oscar. You could study arithmetic and science, you could be a scholar. You don’t have to be a knight or some sort of warrior when you get older. But you can’t be anything. You have to be useful, you can’t just mope around feeling sorry for yourself that you can’t move. We’ll find something for you. You could be an artist or Joshua. The world needs more of him.”

Outside the door, Philip made a confused face. “Is being Joshua a profession now?” he mumbled to himself. He shrugged and kept listening.

“I’m sorry, Nicholas.” Oscar looked down in shame. With a caring hand, Nicholas lifted his chin to look at his face.

“Don’t be, my son.” Oscar’s mouth hung open for a moment. His eyes filled with tears, and Nicholas had no idea why. He thought it was because Oscar was crippled. But he had no idea of the magnitude of what he had just said held in Oscar’s heart. “What’s wrong?” Nicholas asked. He wore a look of concern and longed to make his child happier.

“No one has ever called me their son. I’ve never had a father before,” Oscar said plainly. 

Nicholas smiled softly, then gathered Oscar in to hug him tightly. Nicholas felt the front of his shirt get doused in tears and heard Oscar gently crying. He wasn’t afraid, he was happy. His small little body shook with the tears and every time Oscar paused for breath Nicholas took him in tighter, not wanting to let him go. He held the boy’s head to his chest and let him feel the emotions.

“You’ll always be my son, Oscar. Don’t ever think otherwise. Even after we’re both long gone, you’ll still be my son.”

Nicholas felt Oscar’s tears increase. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of the child’s head. He whispered a few words of admiration in Oscar’s ear and then decided to let him be.

A couple of minutes later, Nicholas felt the boy in his arms calm, and when he looked at him, Oscar was asleep. He stirred as he was brought away from the warmth Nicholas gave, and when pressed back against Nicholas, he fell back asleep. 

It was after about a half hour that Nicholas felt it was safe to let Oscar fall back into bed. Nicholas set the boy down gently and pulled the covers over top of him. He tucked the blankets around Oscar’s body, then sat back on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair.

“Don’t worry, Oscar, we’ll find something for you to do. I could see you as a painter, or maybe a writer. Yes, you’d like to be a writer. You could write magnificent stories. All those fairytales you tell. You could write about those. You’d be so good at that. I could teach you everything there is about grammar and spelling. Or Joshua could. Joshua’s much better at that than I am. Oh, you’ll bewonderful. And someday, when Philip takes my place as king, you could be his Joshua.”

Nicholas stood and left the room. There he found his younger son and the fifteen men to take care of Oscar. They filed back into the room and left Nicholas and Philip to their lonesome.

The two stood quietly for a moment, then Philip broke the silence. “How is he?”

“For lack of better words, he’s devastated. He wants to walk again. He thinks he can’t be useful unless he’s up on his feet and moving around.”

“But there are so many things he can still do! I’m going to talk to him, maybe I could-“

Philip stepped toward the door and placed his hand on the knob, but at a touch from his father, he turned around. “Philip, I’ve already talked to him. He’s asleep now. Do me a favor and leave the poor boy alone.”

“But Father, I just don’t understand. Why would they hurt him? What’s so special about Oscar that they torture him? The note said that they wanted Langdon to fall, but then why would they try to rip Oscar apart and leave me untouched? I was sick! Helpless. They could have killed me easily and instead, they tried for Oscar. I don’t want to sound selfish, but I’m the heir to the throne. Why did they pick on Oscar?”

Nicholas sighed. “Oh, Philip. I’m assuming you feel a little guilt?”

“I guess, but you still haven’t answered my question. Why Oscar?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s because he’s my son, too. Harald wanted to see Langdon crumble as I was upset. He wanted to ruin my emotions. I guess he wanted to make you two boys suffer and since you were never really aware enough to be truly afraid or in pain, he made Oscar suffer for the both of you. But we’ll never know the real reason.”

Philip nodded slowly. “Yes, that makes sense.” 

“Will it suffice for now?”

“I guess.” Philip walked off. Nicholas called down the stairs. He was heading down, which meant he could be going anywhere in the castle.

“Where are you off to?”

Philip turned around and said, “To my bedroom. Thought I might clean up a little. We left it in a little bit of a mess.”

Nicholas followed Philip down the stairs and met up with him a few steps below. “And you’re not afraid? That’s where they took you and eight men died. I was even considering moving you to a different room.”

“No. That’s my room. I’ve made a lot of memories there. What’s one terrible memory compared to billions of wonderful ones? Why would I let myself get scared off by one spider in a field of flowers?”

Nicholas nodded slowly and then moved aside, allowing Philip to pass through.

“What about the siege? When the men stormed the castle and your guards turned against you?”

Philip paused for a moment, being filled with the memories, then looked down at his left hand. After a few seconds, he continued walking. “Then I guess it’s two spiders.”

David snapped awake and saw the outside, dark and dreary. The snow fell in sheets and covered the mountainous terrain in a thick white blanket. He pulled back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching, he shivered and considered returning to the warmth of the bed. Instead, he got an idea and held his hand in a fist close to his chest, he opened the fist and moved his hand forward, an orange bolt dashed across the room and landed in the fireplace where there was fresh wood piled. A cheerful fire emerged from nothing. He felt the warmth on his body and smiled. He had gotten used to magic fairly quickly. He had been told that such skill wouldn’t come for a while, yet he had been practically forced to learn with haste.

The room, now illuminated only by the firelight, seemed to shift as the fire shifted. David felt himself get warmer and stood up in the dark. He stretched a second time with his arms high above his head.

While he had his hands raised, he lowered his left hand and with his right, pointed toward the ceiling and moved his hand in counter-clockwise circles.

His night clothes changed slowly into the brown and green tunic and leggings he wore every day. He looked out the window once again and decided it would be a good day for a cape and warmer clothes. With the same motion--albeit, lasting for a shorter time--a long fur cape draped itself over his shoulders. David and his twin brother both loved capes. They thought they were like blankets attached to you, however, their father seemed to have an aversion to them for some reason. While David did have the option to wear a coat, he felt a lot warmer in capes.

David sat back down and pulled on his leather boots. They were lined with fur and would keep his feet warm. Like his brother, David was tall and had long, thin limbs. This made it so his hands and feet grew colder faster and he liked to have thick gloves and shoes in this wintery weather. As he finished putting his shoes on, he stood and went to a large dresser. On top of which were his thicker leather gloves lined with fur. He liked these gloves. He pulled them on and sighed.

“Here’s another day,” David said with a melancholy tone. He looked up into a mirror and brushed a chunk of his hair back. He then looked into his own eyes. Brown, like his uncle. He had been told they came from his grandfather. His uncle shared the same eyes. And of course, David also shared the same color eyes as his identical twin brother. 

While he looked in the mirror, all he saw were his eyes. He got lost in his stare.

“We all miss you, uncle. I promise you, we’ll find who killed you. I don’t care what any healer says. You were murdered, and I will avenge you.”

David heard the door crash open and got ripped away from his gaze. He immediately knew it was his brother. Especially when he was greeted by a lump of snow on his face.

“Good morning, David!” Adam shouted. He ran into the room and David wiped the snow off of his face. His younger twin had been holding the snow in his hands and thus it had melted and became more slush than snow. And though Adam was only a few minutes younger, he may as well have been a few years younger.

“Good morning to you as well, my wonderful little brother.” David’s voice was very annoyed. “Tell me, how long have you been up?”

“Three hours! It’s nine, by the way. I thought I should wake you up now. And look at that, my job is done!”

“And the purpose of the snowball was…” David added a circular gesture to prod further explanation.

“To wake you up. Then I saw you were awake and I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

David sighed and grabbed a rag from the dresser and began to dry himself off. He had gotten a significant amount of snow in his eyes and painfully rubbed them until they felt better. He also needed to dry his hair, but hesitated. His hair was similar to his father’s. But when wet, as it was now, it resembled his uncle’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked running up to David.

“Well, I woke up five minutes ago, and my brother has already declared war.”

“I didn’t declare war!”

“You did. And now I’m going to race you outside and then build a small army and completely and humiliatingly defeat you.” Adam opened his mouth to give a reply, but David answered for him. “Have you already woken up Marcel?”

Adam shook his head negatively.

“Then go wake him up! I’ll give you a head start. Go!”

Adam ran out of the room and shut the door hard. David laughed and turned back to the mirror and continued to dry himself off. His brothers were everything to him, but they both had their quirks. Like how he had been the one to drag the both of them into the frigid mountains in search of their cousin, who had gone completely mad after her father’s untimely death.

David sighed and assumed that no matter how much time he spent drying himself off, he was only going to go out and play with his brothers and get himself soaked all over again. 

With a wave of his hand, he appeared in the blizzard of a courtyard. The cold took him immediately and he wrapped the cape around himself, feeling the wonderful warmth it gave him. However, this feeling didn’t last long. He felt his fingers beginning to go numb and wondered why he ever let himself be taken out into the cold to wrestle with his brothers and toss snow at them. It was fun in their hometown when there was a light snowfall and a few inches of snow on the ground. He and his family would play for a few hours, then trudge inside and eat supper. Here, at The Only Shadow, there were three feet of snow in some places, coming up to David’s waist.

“David!” Marcel called. David turned at the sound of his name and faced the door to the castle. He saw his older brother run up to him in the cold. “You poor thing, you’re turning blue!” Marcel took off a lighter jacket he was wearing and wrapped it around David.

“Won’t you be cold now?” David was now aware of the way his jaw was shaking which made it difficult to speak.

“No, it isn’t too bad. And we’ll be sweating enough soon.” David scowled. Marcel was never cold, hot, or uncomfortable at all. David had seen Marcel get wounded in battle and come out saying he was fine. It wasn’t fair, as David had a low tolerance for pain. 

Marcel ran back across the vacant courtyard and towards Adam, who was also dressed only in a short-sleeved tunic and long trousers. Adam didn’t even have gloves or anything to keep his limbs warm. Adam never seemed to be cold, though, just like Marcel.

David’s twin was rolling up a ball of snow and yelled, “the snow is perfect today!”

David felt a lump of cold forcefully hit him in the arm, he looked in the direction it came from and saw Marcel with his arm still extended. The snowball hit with a lot of force, enough that David rubbed it to take out the sore sting in his upper right arm.

“How come you get Marcel?” David shouted at his brother. With the wind howling, shouting was the only way to communicate across the courtyard.

“Because you can do magic!”

“So magic is allowed?”

David saw Adam’s head pop up from a large snow wall he constructed. “No, it’s just the fact that you could if you had to, and I got Marcel first.”

“What if I’m not on anyone’s team?” Marcel said. He had paced back so the three brothers were in a triangle and had already piled up a bunch of snow as a fortress that he was hiding behind with a pile of snowballs. He popped up and threw one of his freezing projectiles at each of his siblings. The frigid snow crashing into the side of his face made Adam yell out in pain and surprise, but he quickly began laughing and squished up his ball that he launched at his oldest brother.

The war had begun.

David found himself left out in the open and burrowed himself into the deep snow. Secretly, he used a bit of magic and a pile of snowballs appeared next to him. He built up two walls of his fort and he joined his brothers above the wall and laughed and threw a bunch of the cold projectiles at his siblings. He eventually understood what Marcel had said about working up a sweat. He shrugged off the cape and the jacket and now was dressed like his brothers, except he had gloves. His siblings were better with the cold than he was.

About an hour had passed when David was able to survey that they were running out of snow on the ground and that the storm had since stopped. It was still a dark, cloudy wintery day in The Mountains of Light, but they weren't cold and they barely noticed. Marcel and Adam had built up their forts so much that both could stand upright in them. Neither had tops, but they were unnecessary so the two could toss snowballs over the edge. David was still crouching behind his tiny little walls. 

He felt a chunk of snow in his chest and ducked back behind the wall. When he reached for another snowball, he found his pile empty. He looked around himself and saw a plentiful amount of snow to create more by hand. He bunched up about four balls, then felt the chill in his hands. They felt like ice and the gloves he had been wearing were wet and only made his situation worse. He stripped off the gloves and tossed them in the pile with the rest of his winter gear. His hands were red and numb. He decided a little magic couldn’t hurt.

How wrong he was.

The sound of men shouting behind him put the fight on pause as Adam, Marcel and David turned to the same sight. However, David was not as lucky as his siblings. He felt a sharp, stinging pain in the side of his head, but this one made him fall to the snow with a bloody wound, completely senseless.

Marcel recognized the Ignacian men and drew his sword. He was never without and it became more of a part of him than an awkward accessory. His siblings never even noticed it unless it was out. He loved his sword. His father died with it in his hands. The blade shone under the gleaming light the snow reflected. He was adopted into Adam and David’s family when he was seven after his parents died in the war.

He judged that there were about half a dozen men. He looked back at Adam, who was trying to go to his brother, but Marcel scooped him up while he was running and threw him into the snow fort he had constructed.

“Stay here, I’ll take care of it.”

“This is the third time in as many weeks! How much longer?”

“I don’t know. David says we have to stay.”

The men were barely even acknowledging Marcel. A couple had taken to beating David, many spat at him and two tied him up and laid him against the snow wall for the others to give him a good beating.

Marcel hit the unorganized men hard, killing one without mercy. The man fell and stained the snow around him with blood. The others turned and saw Marcel standing over the body with his sword blade dripping with the red liquid.

“Do you not know that my brother is a person? He’s not the demon you think he is. He’s my brother. Now, who’s next?”

The five men left backed up a pace at a time. All, save one, this one decided to take one more hit at David. The boy was slowly coming out of unconsciousness, only to be put back to sleep by a massive fist slammed into his jaw and sending him face-first back into the snow.

Marcel killed this man. He took a moment or two to die. This was good for Marcel, as he gurgled and yelled in pain before dying. This sent the other four men running.

Marcel dropped the body and scooped up David in his powerful arms. David was about the same height as Marcel, if not, taller, but David had a much smaller build. Marcel was thicker with muscle from years of hard training to become the knight he was. In the records, he was escorting The Lord of The Only Shadow and his brother on a great quest, but in reality, Marcel was out with his brothers to discover who had killed their beloved uncle before their cousin did.

“Is he all right?” Adam said while running to Marcel.

“No, he’s pretty banged up. They haven’t beaten him like this before. Let’s get him to bed.” Marcel ran back into the castle, he was closely followed by Adam. They ran through the halls and eventually laid David down in bed. Adam--being the most educated of the group--took the responsibility to heal his twin brother.

~ ~ ~

David scraped at his plate and eventually decided he wasn’t hungry. He easily cleared it with magic and watched his other siblings finish their meals. Adam ate with moderate manners, however, compared to Marcel, he was a beast. 

Typical of most knights, Marcel’s manners were the best of the best. He exhibited chivalry and precision in every aspect of his day. David admired this greatly. 

The bandage wrapped around his head was beginning to itch fiercely and David wanted to scratch it, but knew it wouldn’t be good. Adam had experienced something similar a few months prior on the day Marcel was knighted. He was out on a walk for a bit of fresh air and a thief ran into him and drove a knife through his stomach, then fled. Adam lived, but it was a terrifying night.

David shook the terrible memory from his mind.

For a while, the only sound was of forks and knives hitting plates as Adam and Marcel ate and David watched.

“I think we need to address what we’re all thinking about,” Marcel said. Adam and David looked up at him. The twins looked at each other, then at Marcel. He looked between his brothers, then sighed. “The elephant in the room.”

Adam understood. “This is the third time, David. People know about The Only Shadow now. All four kingdoms. As a matter of fact, on newer maps it’s not even a hundred miles east, twenty north, and has a footnote saying ‘actual location not known,’. It’s actually where it is.”

“I know. We’re not safe anymore. Which is strange. Father always used the castle as a refuge. Maybe where he grew up?”

“You mean the burnt rubble?” Marcel clarified.

David nodded in acknowledgment. “Maybe Arien could take us somewhere?”

“Arien is a dumb horse. Horses don’t just take you somewhere. You tell it where to go,” Adam said.

“Arien is smarter than most humans I’ve met.”

“And most humans aren’t that bright either. But in all seriousness, we can’t stay here forever. Where can we go?” Adam said. He had put down his fork and stared at David, hoping for an answer.

“The South Castle?” David suggested.

“Never. Father made it forbidden,” Marcel said. “He said evil spirits dwell there.”

“You don’t believe that?” Adam said. He had always wanted to see the South Castle. He had heard so many stories about it that to him and David, The South Castle was more of a legend than The Only Shadow.

“I don’t think a ghost is going to haunt The South Castle, in case that's what you mean. I think it’s just the feeling there, the aura. It’s not good. Father said we shouldn’t go there ever. So we shouldn’t.”

David drummed his fingers on the table. “Langdon?”

“Langdon?” Marcel and Adam chorused.

“Yes. Castle Langdon is only about fifty or so miles north of here. Their beliefs are similar to Cerebellum. We’ll be welcome and safe.”

Marcel sat back in his chair, deep in thought. “I heard that Langon is having some internal issues. It’s growing weaker by the day. We’d be safer in Cerebellum.”

“It takes nearly three months to get to Cerebellum! We could be attacked while on the way and we wouldn’t have the materials or magic to patch us up.”

Marcel nodded. “I assume. But I’m not sure about Castle Langdon. The king is very welcoming and kind, but there are far too many issues that we couldn’t get in between. And they’re not issues that magic can fix.”

“I think David’s right,” Adam said. He got attention from his brothers and continued.  “Langdon is close. And we don’t have to stay forever. We can stay there until we find out where to go next.”

“Adam has a valid point,” Marcel said. He continued, “We can go to Langdon, and then find Audrey and leave before word gets out that we’ve even left the castle.”

David nodded. “Then in the morning, we leave for Castle Langdon.”