Vance stood in front of a trough of water. Leon had found one at the farm that Vance could comfortably fit inside. He thought it was probably used for washing animals or something.

Standing was particularly difficult for Vance at the moment, because he couldn't feel his legs, nor his anything for that matter.

"Are you sure about this?" Leon asked from the side, having procured a stool from somewhere, he was sitting "patiently" with his back leant against the house.

"No, but it's the best idea I've got at the moment."

"Alright. So, I'll give you 45 seconds. If you don't give me a signal of some kind, then I'll pull you out, Right?"

"Yep."

Vance climbed up and lowered himself into the water. It was a new kind of terrifying when he not only couldn't see the water but couldn't feel it either.

He plugged his nose and ears with what amounted to mashed up lotus leaves, which were apparently waterproof. He was about to find out for sure either way.

He leant back into the water and floated, then allowed himself to go a little way under.

The only thing he wore was a light shirt and very, very thin trousers. It didn't much matter, he couldn't feel them anyway, so he figured they wouldn't interfere.

He successfully deprived himself of all of his senses. His taste buds were numb from chewing the plants, which soon spread to his whole body. He couldn't see anyway so that one was off the list. His nose and ears were plugged and he left the ground, floating in the water.

He experienced total, absolute isolation.

It took somewhere between 5 seconds and an eternity for his brother to pull him out the first time, he'd forgotten to give a signal and he couldn't really tell how much time was passing, it was a strange sensation.

Leon pulled one of the mashed up earbuds out of his ear to tell him he was above water and remind him to breathe, which he did promptly.

"Anything? Also, remember the damn signal!"

"Still adjusting, sorry. Let's go again."

The two of them repeated the process for hours.

Vance plunged himself into the water once again, he'd asked Leon to give him a little longer this time, he thought he could last just over a minute.

He clutched the coin in his hands, he couldn't feel that it was there but he knew he was holding it when he entered.

He was fairly certain that he brought the coin up to his chest, but he couldn't quite tell. He did this each time and focused on searching through the absolute lack of sensation for anything, for the last few dozen attempts he'd found nothing at all, this time didn't seem much different.

He searched and searched, he was fairly certain that his lungs were starting to complain, but Leon was outside, it was fine. He continued to look inward, trying to find something listening, waiting to be given something to react to.

This time, he found it.

There was something, it felt heavy. It reminded him of the coin and it felt like a muscle might after you wake up from a nights sleep, like it needed to be stretched out. He fumbled for a moment before he found out exactly how to stretch it. It wasn't a motion, nor a particular clench of some part of the body to force an internal reaction, it was more like struggling to recall a memory from a long time ago.

He didn't know it at the time, but he stretched his very will. It was slow going, he had to fight to urge it onwards. It seemed reluctant to listen to him but the further and harder he pushed the more responsive it became until, with a snap, he was suddenly very glad he lacked his other senses.

It wasn't sight, hearing or smell, nor taste nor touch but something entirely different. He couldn't quite put a label on it yet, but he could certainly feel it. It was a feeling like what he'd been told staring into the sun was like, like smelling salts or the roar of a bear an inch from your ear, overwhelming. For just a moment, it made him feel nauseous.

He felt like something was pressing down on his shoulders, but he couldn't actually feel them at the moment, courtesy of whatever plant it was he'd consumed. He could swear that for just an instant he could taste iron in his mouth like he'd bitten his tongue, but his tongue was numb.

In the next instant, he felt his earbuds pulled out and Leon was talking to him.

"Alright, I gave you longer this time, I think we should sto-"

"It worked!" Vance exclaimed and threw his arms over his brother's shoulders, drenching him. At least, he thought he did, a hell of a drug, this plant. To Vance's glee, he could still feel that sensation of pressure on his shoulders.

He'd finally made a start, a real one.

It was at this precise moment when Vance was at his most elated that things went horribly wrong.

Vance knew the time of day instantly by the reactions of the critters to the south, it seems that the deer or whatever it was had come back.

A harsh clanging sound rang through the air as the jaws of the beartrap that Leon had set clamped shut.

"Aaah! Son of a bitch! My leg!" A man's voice rang out, screaming in pain.

"What the-" Leon turned to look in that direction, something...no, a person had been caught in the trap, not some forest creature. The man wore leathers on his torso but no protection on his legs. Leon's expression changed when he noticed the man was armed, he had a crossbow latched onto his back and a sword on his hip, no, wait that's the sheath. The sword was in his hand, but it now lay on the

ground not far from the trap, he'd dropped it when his leg was trapped.

That leg was crippled, the man wouldn't be getting out of the trap, nor would that leg likely ever heal properly, poor guy.

Vance was paying close attention now, he had to momentarily forget about his situation as he listened, but he heard a troubling sound, a distinct click, one he was not familiar with. He didn't think, but he pushed Leon on instinct as hard as he could, the force sending both of them back from each other, Leon didn't expect it and scrambled backwards while Vance found himself in the water again.

He pulled himself out purely via muscle memory just in time to hear a crossbow bolt slam into the house. Leon grabbed him an instant later and he hauled Vance into the house, slamming the door shut behind them.

"There's more than one," Vance said out loud. His voice sounded funny now that he paid attention to it, turns out with a numb mouth, talking properly is very difficult.

"Yeah, my guess is outlaws. Dad! Outlaws!"

Leon had to give Vance a running commentary, he dragged him inside and up the stairs, where his father was waiting having already drawn his weapon.

Vance was still locked in a world of his own, he could hear now which was nice, but that was about all. Leon told him that he'd successfully gotten to his feet, so that was good.

The three of them travelled into a room on the top floor, there was a window in this room that was already open and Vance could faintly hear sounds from other areas of the village, he was sure he heard a scream.

"I don't think it's just us." He said, repeating the phrase a few times to get the sound right so the others could understand him.

"Then it's a larger-scale attack, hasn't been one like this in two decades," Adrian said. "They're probably just out for loot, but if one of them is hurt you'd better believe his friends are pissed. Leon, draw your weapon, this will get nasty."

"Thanks by the way Vance. One of those bolts out there was headed for my chest." Leon added, he sounded remarkably casual as Vance could hear his sword leaving its sheath.

"Sure, no problem." Vance tried to match his brother, but the voice cracks halfway through betrayed him.

The sounds of people breaking into their house below were obvious to them all. They'd broken the back door and were currently trashing the living room. Vance was fairly certain they'd just smashed one of the windows, that seemed unnecessary.

His attention was drawn back inwards for a moment, he needed to check if he could still access that strange sense. He concentrated for a moment.

He could. It wouldn't do him much good now, but he wanted to know if his work had paid off, and there wasn't much else he could do right now anyway.

The door to the room suddenly burst inwards, Leon had been holding it, but the man on the other side pushed his way through very quickly, practically running.

Adrian didn't hesitate, he ran the man through the moment he got past his son. There was no fancy duel or clash of blades, he stabbed the man through the chest with such force that Vance heard several distinct "Pops" as the sword travelled through him, followed by the sound of wood cracking.

Adrian had pinned the man to the wall with his blade and he didn't spare him a second glance, he pulled the weapon free and went to close the door.

Click.

"Agh!" Adrian exclaimed, reeling backwards. Leon pushed him out of the way and charged out of the door at the man who had just loosed a crossbow bolt.

Vance made his way towards the sound of his father's exclamation. He heard a sword clattering to the ground, which helped him figure out where he was going. He could hear the sounds of Leon shouting and fighting in the hallway.

He reached where his father had fallen and stretched out his hands. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse but the feeling in his upper body was just starting to return to him a little, just in time for him to begin to take in the state of his father.

It took him a moment of feeling around to find out what had happened, but he soon discovered the shaft of the bolt that was lodged in his father's chest, he missed it the first few times because barely any of the bolt was exposed. His chest wasn't moving.

Vance felt his heart sink through the floor. He could tell right away that his father was gone. He had the urge to scream, to cry and shout at his father to move, but to his own surprise, his first thought after that was not on grief, but instead, something that scared him much more deeply.

This meant Leon was fighting alone and he didn't know how many he was up against. Nor was he aware of exactly how good of a fighter Leon was, he was big, but could he fight well? What if one of them shoots him like they shot his father? Could he even help? What if-

Vance slapped himself in the face, staggering his own chain of thought. He realised he was going to start to spiral and was not acting, this was not the time for inaction. It seemed to Vance that all of that introspection was useful for something, after all. It gave him just enough self-control to spur himself into action.

His hands weren't shaking when he reached out, feeling for his father's sword.

Leon had burst his way into the hallway, fuelled by some odd mix of fear and fury. He was fairly certain he knew what happened to his father but Vance was still in there, he had no time to think about it now. It was time to put his physical gifts to work.

The man who had loosed the crossbow bolt didn't last more than a few seconds, Leon overpowered the man and with absolutely no grace whatsoever, pushing the edge of his blade about halfway through the man's throat. When he hit bone, he decided that was enough and moved on down the hallway.

Leon had never considered himself a killer, nor had he ever done so before. There was something about how easy it was for him that he didn't like. He'd think on that later.

He reached the top of the staircase and quickly moved backwards, slamming his back against the wall around a corner, avoiding a crossbow bolt aimed for him.

He didn't want to allow the man time to reload, so he just threw himself over the balcony next to the stairs, landing straight on top of the reloading crossbowman.

It wasn't a graceful landing, his sword wasn't where he wanted it. Somehow, it'd ended up on the ground next to them - must've dropped it.

He picked it up the wrong way, reverse grip. He didn't know how to fight like that, so he just slammed the pommel into the side of his enemies head, who was weakly trying to push Leon off at the time.

The man lost all of his strength and went still. He was either dead or out cold, Leon didn't have time to check or care.

He pulled himself up off the ground just as another man in the living room fired another crossbow at him. A moment ago, his head had been in its path, fortunately for him - only his leg was there now he'd stood up.

He stifled a yell, that seriously hurt. He didn't bother checking exactly where the bolt had struck him, that was another problem to add to the list for later. He faintly noticed that list was getting quite long.

Leon stalked towards the man in the living room.

Vance found that more and more feeling was coming back to him. He imagined the situation had something to do with that. He made his way outside, tripping briefly over the corpse of the man Leon had just killed in the hallway moments before. He crawled his way to the top of the stairs and stood up by the balcony.

He heard the combat below and Leon's stifled yell, he knew he was hurt but pain meant he was alive. Vance's hands were covered in blood, which made holding his father's sword properly a little more difficult. The sword was heavy by his standards, his father was considerably larger than him.

He listened carefully, trying to ascertain what was going on. His brother was fighting in the living room, it sounded like this guy was putting up more of a fight, but Leon clearly had the upper hand.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" He heard Leon exclaim before something in the room cracked, probably the table.

Vance heard another set of footsteps, coming from the rear of the house. They were quiet, somebody was trying to sneak in. In a few moments, he'd be passing by underneath Vance, probably to reinforce his ally in the living room. At first, it was difficult to be sure if it was one of the outlaws, but he heard the distinct sounds of a crossbow bolt being slowly loaded.

He only had a moment to think, and was struggling to figure out how to go about getting down there to fight the man, could he even fight? He'd never done so before.

No, he needed a plan, something he could do from here, maybe...

Something his father said to him just the other day came to mind.

"A Heavy sword is a sword you can rely on."

At this distance of only a few feet, he didn't think he could drop the sword on the intruder with any chance of doing any real damage. Maybe he could throw it, but he didn't know how to make sure the point would hit his target, he certainly couldn't aim properly, the sword might spin.

Unless...

Vance fumbled around for his coin, which was metal and much heavier than it should be. He remembered that years ago, Elijah had told him that unless he could see mana, he wouldn't be able to shape it, but he'd suggested that if he could feel it, then he could learn magic. If so, then he must be able to shape mana now that he could feel it, of course, he didn't know how - but he had no time to think.

He reached out to that indistinct muscle that he'd only just become aware of. He focused on that cold, metallic feeling and the taste of iron in his mouth. He still wasn't sure he was detecting specifically the coin, but it's all he had.

He concentrated on the tip of the blade and performed the closest approximation of "Flexing" the muscle that he could muster like he was trying to move an arm he didn't have around his body.

He felt the change, the coin in his hand became lighter and the sword became much heavier. The blade that he held in one hand suddenly swung downwards, he no longer had the leverage in his wrist to keep it upright, with all of the newly added weight at the tip of the sword.

At that moment, he heard footsteps below him, he pushed the sword downwards as hard as he could, hoping his senses were accurate.

He heard a dull impact, the staggering of feet and something between a cough and a scream from directly below him, then he heard metal clanging against wood a moment later.

Vance didn't hear any other movement in the house, just the ongoing fight in the living room. He stumbled down the stairs, he didn't bother to collect his fathers blade.

He was just turning the corner into the room when something heavy collided with him, Leon and the man he was fighting spilt into the hallway, pushing Vance aside. He fell over and crashed without grace into the floor, one of his hands landed in a fresh pool of blood.

Leon saw Vance, his eyes went wide for a moment. With renewed Vigour, he went low and charged at his opponent, lifting him off of the ground and slamming his back into the doorframe, which cracked a little under the impact. Leon proceeded to beat the man senseless over the next 30 seconds or so, only once he was reasonably certain the man wouldn't be coming after him again did he stop.

He was breathing heavily, but when he turned around and saw Vance awkwardly trying to pull the blade out of the body of the man lying in the hallway, he felt a strange mixture of sorrow and pride.

"Let me get that, get back upstairs, there might be more." Leon forced a smile onto his face as if Vance could tell, he put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the blade, he pulled the blade and realised why Vance was struggling, it was sunk about an inch into the floorboards.

He wrenched it free and noted that his father's sword was horrendously unbalanced, fighting with this thing would've been awful. He wondered for a moment how he'd never noticed.

Leon looked down and was glad to see that the bolt that stuck out of his leg was below the knee, he didn't think it'd hit anything major and so decided to leave it lodged in there for now until he could get to a doctor. He did decide to wrap the area tightly, it was bleeding a little.

When it was apparent that there were no more outlaws present, Leon piled some furniture up in front of the back door, then took it upon himself to gather his father's body. It wasn't an easy feat to carry a fully grown man down the stairs with his leg protesting, but he persevered.

Vance had, in the heat of the moment, been entirely concerned with ensuring that Leon did not meet the same fate as his father. Now that he was no longer flooded with adrenaline, fear, and fury; he slowly felt the reality of the situation pressing down on him. When he heard Leon scrambling down the stairs, his father in tow, he moved to help.

The two brothers moved their father's body into the living room. They didn't have much room so they simply laid him on the floor as gently as possible, clearing some of the furniture out of the way.

Once they had him situated, the two of them sat together. Before any words were exchanged, Leon threw an arm over Vance, pulling him close. Leon was excellent at managing his emotions. The tremble in his voice was barely audible at all. Of course, Vance picked up on it.

"I'm sorry, Vance." Leon didn't know what else to say.

Vance, on the other hand, was not as well disciplined. Almost as soon as he heard his brother's voice, the floodgates opened. Vance tried to reply but failed more than once. Leon pulled his little brother's head into his chest and rested his chin on top.

Leon had a few tears in his eyes. He closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath. He wanted to be strong for the time being, at least. He forced himself to calm down a little, reasserting control.

"He'd be really proud of you, Leon. You did so well."

Leon watched Vance, in typical Vance fashion, try to wrestle control over himself for a few seconds to say those words. Vance had always tried to emulate his brother's cool head, but most times, he failed. This time, he lasted a few moments before starting to cry again.

"You too, buddy, well done. We're still alive, focus on that. That's what's important. It's all he'd have wanted." Leon patted Vance on the back, keeping him close.

The two of them stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, some of the village watchmen turned up at their door. They gave the boys a description of what had happened. The outlaws had been all over town. It'd been something of a coordinated attack, but they'd been repelled by a combination of the watch and the tenacity of certain individuals willing to fight back.

They offered their condolences for the loss of their father then informed them that the villagers were gathering the dead and wounded in the centre of town. Vance was the one to suggest that they should bring their father along, he wanted people to know that his dad had fought back too.

With the help of one of the watchmen, the brothers gathered up their father and carried him into the centre of town.

For once, Leon was glad that his little brother couldn't see. The sight of the town centre wasn't something he wished for anybody Vance's age to have to witness. There must've been a dozen bodies. Leon recognised at least a handful of them.

"How many?" Vance asked, solemnly.

"Too many." Leon conceded.