Chapter 1 Twin Tale

The golden rays streaming in through the open window served little purpose in waking him up. The speed at which the imagery from his mind came seemed to outshine the warmth from the sky. And yet, he was already feeling that he was remembering the dream with forgetfulness.

Where it ended, where it started, it had all just been packed tight into one big blur. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in his bed, not quite feeling the energy to move just yet.

His hand moved up to brush some of the snowy white strands of hair from his forehead where they had been clinging to from his sweat. For someone only twenty years of age, his hair color was quite the enigma, but not one that he was unwelcome to. With his bright yet pale blue eyes, he felt his appearance was quite complimentary. “Light sensitive,” that’s what he liked to think of it as, but not something he was bothering to think of now.

Now, his mind felt it had drifted several lifetimes ahead or behind his mental capacity. It had all been so…

“...All so vivid…”

Vivid yet fuzzy. Exactly the same as the sizable fluff that blindsided him in the present.

His instincts didn’t even bother to kick in as the assailing blow made contact with his head. The soft mass fell to the floor soundlessly as he felt his eyes travel upwards to see his twin sister standing before him already dressed and wearing a self-satisfied smile.

“A vivid dream, huh? Do I even want to bother and ask what it was about?” her smile reached all the way to her eyes.

Letting one last sigh escape, he rose from his bed to stand beside her equally. “Mackenzie,” he said her name, “I thought that it’d be a little too early for you to be awake.”

“I’ve gotten up at nine o’clock before.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. “And how long before you just decided to go back to sleep afterward?”

“Har-har,” she rolled her eyes, not exactly bothering to dignify that with an answer. “Well unless you feel like pulling that, you’ll miss out on breakfast. Mom has a berry pie and omelets coming out soon.”

Ah, now that was something that could clear his mind.

Or, rather, it would serve as a good distraction.

“In that case, thank you for assaulting me just then,” he replied as he went over to the wardrobe of their shared room to grab a clean pair of pants, a blue tunic shirt, and a brown cardigan.

“Don’t go thanking me just yet,” Mackenzie said while leaning against the threshold of their room. “After all, it is your turn to do the dishes.”

Marik brushed a few loose strands of hair from his vision as he walked over toward her. “Check again. I did them last night.”

“I did. You did some of them. We have more than just one set.”

“And I washed mine,” he informed her as they set off down the flight of stairs in perfect sync. “Nothing was stopping you from doing yours.”

“Just the thought that you had it covered, that’s all,” she offered a playful counter.

“Alright, fine, fair enough,” he admitted defeat. “Although, if you want to help me tag-team it, I’ll let you have the first slice.”

She gave a silent laugh. “I get the first slice regardless. But… I hear your plea of despair and offer up my services.”

Marik gave a thankful nod. “That’s another one I owe you.”

“I’ll add it to the list with the others.” Didn’t he know it.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the nearly tangible aroma from the kitchen greeted their senses. Fresh berries, soapy water, and a pinch of cinnamon. It was a smell that both twins could happily wake up to every morning if it were possible.

The kitchen was small, same as the rest of their house, but was still something that was easy enough to make do with. The wrap-around counter was cluttered with the usual baking ingredients, the sink still filled with an assortment of plates, glasses, and other utensils. Marik did his best to ignore that and instead try to focus back in on the present - to the prospect of one of his favorite foods or even the static sound of the radio in the adjacent lounge talking about relevant news of the day. And, of course, it was impossible not to notice the woman with them as well.

She smiled at them with her eyes as they approached. “Finally decided to come down and join us, I see.”

Their mother, Miriam Kaiser. She was a woman in her late thirties with blond hair brushing past her shoulders, and vibrant green eyes that carried the prideful stress of having raised twins in her life. Just one look at her proved where Mackenzie got a majority of her looks, even wearing a similar green skirt and blouse. The biggest difference was that Mackenzie’s hair and eyes were significantly paler. It was just about the only physical trait she had from their father.

“Sorry, Mom,” Mackenzie greeted as she went to pull the pie from the oven while Marik set the table for them. “He looked like he was having a good dream and I didn’t want to wake him.”

It was more of a nightmare than anything, but he would keep that to himself, for now. He did not want to think about it at the moment.

“Oh, well isn’t that thoughtful of you,” their mother eyed her daughter skeptically.

“No need to go saying it like that,” Mackenzie vaguely muttered as she took her seat.

“What’s even the occasion?” Marik asked, seating himself beside her. “I’m not complaining, just curious.” They were no strangers to cooking their own meals, or lending a helping hand for that matter.

Now it was his turn to be given the quizzical stare. “I would have expected you to know the answer to that.” She briefly waited for his non-reply. She lightly pouted. “It’s the one-year anniversary for both of your jobs.”

They momentarily paused to give one another a perplexedly reassuring glance. Marik then gave a casual shrug while Mackenzie offered up a more mirthful chuckle.

“One year already?” she parrotted the time. “No need to go and make us feel old there. I understand that Marik has the hair for one, but I don’t need to be getting any wrinkles. Ha - oof!”

He sent a not-so-subtle kick to her leg from under the table. As grateful as he was for her trying to steer the conversation, he could do without the teasing.

“As touching as she makes that sound,” he could feel his sister’s peripheral glare, “she isn’t exactly wrong. One year, that really isn’t a big deal to us.” Or to most people, for that matter.

“Don’t go saying something like that,” their mother debated. “The butcher shop might not seem like much now, but it is a great start for honest money. Besides, working with Vern must make things pretty exciting around there.”

He helped himself to some of the food, not debating that point at all. “Yeah. The people working there really make the job, that’s for sure.” She evidently picked up on his tone.

“I at least hope that you put more value into your work than you do socializing with the guys over there.” Based on her tone, she wasn’t mad. At least, he hoped that she wasn’t.

“Mmm, I don’t think you have anything to worry about there, Mom,” Mackenzie offered a concealed retort. “They can only talk about meat so much before the topic starts to go south in more ways than one.”

Marik hid his laugh as he went for a drink of water while their mother gave her a humorous deadpan. “Not funny.”

“It made them laugh,” Mackenzie averted her gaze in silence.

“I’m sure. Are you both going in at the usual time today?”

“Same time as always on this day for the past year, apparently,” Marik answered simply. “Although, Vern probably wouldn’t mind if we were a bit late.” A slice more wouldn’t hurt.

He was met with a semi-stern look from his mother. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you showed up on time. Who knows? Maybe he has a little anniversary gift planned for the two of you.”

“Yeah, maybe if we had been there for years and if he actually cared about anniversaries, he’d get us a bottle of wine,” he offered playful speculation. He knew it wouldn’t come true, but he could see Vern doing that sort of thing. The head butcher was always offering alcoholic suggestions to those of the legal age of 18.

His mother merely shrugged. “Keep thinking positive. You never know.”

Actually, he did know. He knew and he kept silent about it. For now, the slice of homemade deliciousness is in front of him. The taste was every unspoken word that had ever died on his tongue being reinvigorated with life once again. Every bite was savored.

When it came time to do his procrastinated chore of dish-washing, he made sure that his plate was near spotless before dropping it into the sink so it would be less of a hassle to wash off after. Mackenzie joined him, offering to do today's batch while he went to work on the pile from last night. Everything had balanced out quite nicely.

From the adjacent lounge, the voice of Jimmy Gerald, the local broadcaster in their town of Crandon, carried over into the kitchen to give some distraction from the menial tasks at hand.

“Things are shaping up for another moderate day, possible rain clouds blowing in overnight, as per usual. And for any local shop owners, make sure you have your advertisements out there because the annual slew of tourists is sure to be in full swing this coming week.”

The upbeat sound of the static coming through the speaker buzzed its way to his ears as he set a glass on the rack to properly dry. From the other room, their mother had begun work on dusting off some of the furniture.

“And in other news, the word from Governor Abel Cortz is that our neighboring country of Matania has seen an increase in military activity and has apparently marshaled a sizable portion of troops on the border to the East.”

The rag he was holding just seemed to move on its own accord as his mind was pulled toward the allure of static.

“So far, no one from the ruling Matanian family of Makaro has offered any comment on King Kal’s intentions.”

The next glass he had been holding just sank down into the water-filled sink. He turned his head toward the lounge, briefly catching a glimpse of his sister’s bafflingly concerned expression.

“Hey, Mom,” he called to her.

“What is it?” she asked, not facing him, seemingly focused on her own task.

“Could you turn that up, just a little?” he let his question be known.

She paused in her chore, listening in to what was being said.

“-still unknown as to what could provoke such a measure from the King of Matania, but one that will surely be dealt with accordingly. Talks of emissary with Lukas Makaro are possibly in the works, and can hopefully appease the King’s-,”

There was an audible click as their mother changed the tuner, shaking her head as she did so.

Marik felt his shoulders slump on their own accord. “Or you could just ignore it completely. That’s fine. That works, too.”

“Since when did you start caring about the news?” Mackenzie asked as she too put their chore on hold. “Not that I really blame you.”

“It’s what they were saying about Matania, about King Kal,” he emphasized. “Didn’t you hear what he was saying?” he gave her a look that promised he would let her know the full details once they were alone. The dream was less vivid now, but still prevalent.

Their mother shut it off completely. “You shouldn’t worry about what a foreign monarch is upset about. He’s just a nasty man who’s bothered by one slight or another. Let the Governor deal with him and that whole family.”

“Uh, I think we should be worried if they’re moving troops near the border like they just said.” While not exactly on top of Tamaples/Matanian border, their town of Crandon was only about a six-hour ride away.

Six hours, that was it. Six hours to the border, six hours to their capital city of Walhia. That time was even shorter if they took a train or were fortunate enough to get tickets for a ride on an airship.

“Why do you even sound surprised by that?” Mackenzie asked. “We both went to the same school, you should know that this is just what they like to do.” And she wasn't exactly wrong.

It did seem that every major war or conflict in the last century or so had started because of their neighbors to the East. That had just been the nature of things since Matania’s inception.

“I didn’t say that I was surprised, I’m just curious,” Marik specified. “You shouldn’t be surprised by that.” They both gave the other a very exaggerated stare.

“Well, didn’t I raise such wonderful optimists?” their mother rhetorically asked as she entered the kitchen again. “Thank you both for the dishes, now hurry along before you’re late.”

They gave a joined chorus of, “Yes, Mom,” as they made their leave. Before they had even left the front porch, they heard her calling.

“Oh! Marik!”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Before I forget to tell you, I saw an article in the paper about the university in Huxton accepting new submissions. I have it saved if you want to take a look at it.”

He knew that hopeful tone that she had adopted. It didn’t matter if he wanted to or not - she wanted him to look at it.

“Huxton?” He repeated the name. “That’s basically on the other side of the country.”

“Not really,” she corrected. “Certainly a good amount of hours by train, but not that far. Besides, you don’t want to stay in this town forever, do you?”

“I never said that I didn’t.” She had him with that one, and he knew it.

“Don’t limit yourself to just one place, that’s all.”

A cold burn banged against the inside corners of his head as he averted his eyes from hers. “Again, I never said that I was.”

Her brow began to furrow. “Don’t go sounding too enthused about it. I’ll leave the paper on your bed for when you get home. I know you don’t want to be at the butchery forever.”

“Believe me, I won’t be there forever.” He briefly met her gaze as he gave an insignificant nod. “Sure. I’ll look at it.”

That seemed to placate her for now, but Marik suspected that they both knew that this wouldn’t be the only time she would mention the possibilities of the future to him. She gestured for them to bend down about an inch or so in order for her to properly plant kisses to their foreheads.

“Have a good day,” she bid them. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Mackenzie replied as she fixed her shoulder-length pale blond hair.

“Mm-hmm,” Marik nodded his head, averting his gaze once again. It wouldn’t do him any favors to see her smile dip not into a frown, but some unfathomable expression. “We’ll see you when we get home.”

They opened the front gate of their small yard, giving one last parting wave to their mother as she watched them from the porch of Number 76 Edgebrook Ln. Rounding the corner with the blue and black labeled street sign, they were off.

Mackenzie waited until their house was lost to sight behind the others before she spoke. “It wouldn’t kill you to say it back, you know.” She didn’t even bother to make it sound rhetorical.

He spared a quick glance over to his sister before focusing his eyes down on the sidewalk. “I know that. She knows that I do, so what’s the point in saying it?”

“Just so she knows that you mean it,” she said with a blatantly obvious snark.

Marik met her peripheral stare. “People say stuff that they don’t mean every day. Why say something that will lose its luster when you can just show what you mean instead?”

That elicited a small scoffing laugh from her. “I’d say you really followed your own advice on that with that little scene just now and back in the kitchen.”

“Hey!” he only partially took offense. “You know that I’ve sent letters to plenty of local schools and organizations. I included recommendations and contacts from a bunch of people over the town.” He had probably sent letters to over fifteen in a month. “I’ve done my part. It isn’t my fault that none of them have gotten back to me about anything.”

She raised her hands in an accepting gesture. “I’m not blaming you. If that was me, I’d feel the same, only with some very demanding calls or letters added to the mix.”

“And now she’s bringing up Huxton,” the name sounded stuck-up and snooty on his tongue. “What even made her think that would be a good idea?”

“A question to ask her,” Mackenzie skipped over a stray piece of trash along the sidewalk. “Maybe she has a secret stash we don’t know about to pay for something like that.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Marik disagreed. With her job as a cook for a local pub, tips would only go so far. “If she had something like that, she’d hire someone to remodel the bathroom.” That was a project she had been discussing for just over two years now. Even if they didn’t have the largest house, their mother made sure it was still the most maintained on their street.

“Hm.” She considered his argument. “Yeah, fine. I have nothing then.”

“I admire that upbeat attitude of yours,” he spoke with minimal envy. “Must be nice.”

She nodded. “It is. You should try it sometime.”

He didn’t want to sound bitter, but that was easy for her to say.

Even if they had been born twins, their mother still did her best to raise them as individuals. They still went to the same school as kids, attended the same classes, grew up with the same kids, but when it came to the looming prospect of where their futures lie, Marik couldn’t help but feel she put more pressure on him than his sister. He could understand why - or at least, he thought he could.

Mackenzie had always been the more social of the two, someone whom others felt that they could strongly rely on. It didn’t hurt her odds that she was considered to be the town's beauty by many of the people residing in their community. If she wanted, Mackenzie could find a suitable provider from just about anywhere she looked and live a more fortunate life. Many townsfolk considered it odd that she had not done so already; she was legally able to wed. Some of the girls her age, or even younger were already married, or engaged. The fact that Mackenzie was not was a good bit of gossip for a portion of the town residents.

But when it came to Marik, he felt that his mother really didn’t know how to handle going about what to do with him. She wanted him to go out and do something in the world, and he wanted… well, he wanted much of the same, just by his own accord. Just what exactly that was Marik doubted if either himself or his mother could come to a solid answer in that sea of uncertainty.

Until then, there was work to be done.

Making a turn down an alley between the streets of Harvey and Mayweather, the two of them continued along to where a stack of crates awaited them at the other end. Pushing the closest one aside, Marik reached over to grab the bag that they had planted there on a previous occasion. He checked the inside to make sure all the contents were still there.

A set of three metallic sticks, spare pieces of flattened scrap metal, and a simple tin can reside within. Same as before.

They would not be using any of this for the butcher shop. In fact, they had both stopped working there around two months ago.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise to the other people working there that the Kaiser siblings were getting fed up with the job, they often openly expressed their numerous complaints while on scheduled breaks. Mackenzie had been the one who would work the counter, with her charm and friendly demeanor, it made sense to have her be the one to interact with the customers. It also meant that she was the first person the people came to whenever they had a complaint or even just tried to talk to her instead of actually coming to purchase anything.

For Marik, it was very similar. He had been the one who cut and prepared a lot of the orders alongside Vern. He found out there that he was actually very good with handling a knife, often cutting the meats to exactly how the customer would specify. If there were any complaints about what he sold to the customers it was usually pertaining to the meat either smelling too bad, being too tough after they cooked it, or even if they just happened to be out of a certain type of cut. Those problems had all been beyond anyone’s control, really, and could usually be solved with the standard apology and offer to make a discount sale the next time. That changed with Mrs. Irene McGlauchlen.

She was an elderly neighbor who lived by herself on the street behind theirs. Marik never recalled ever seeing her outside of her home with the exception of when she would go shopping, so once he began the job at the butcher’s, seeing her became something of an event.

Something was always the matter with Mrs. McGlauchlen. It could range from her ordering the wrong thing, to expecting everything to already be cut without any prior knowledge of when they got their deliveries, or on this particular occasion, complaining about how she wanted it done. And she would always specify that she wanted Marik to be the one to prepare her order.

With her teeth not as strong as they once were, she wanted her meat cut especially thin. Wanting to avoid any conflict with the elderly woman, Marik made sure that he cut as thin as humanly possible, almost nicking his fingers several times to get the cut to be almost paper-thin in thickness. When he had gone to wrap it up for her, she stopped him to criticize how it was far too thick and how she would never be able to chew it properly.

Marik had forced himself to apologize to the elder and offered to go and cut another much thinner, despite not being physically possible. She had ignored him and continued complaining about how she wouldn’t even feed it to her dog.

“Horrendous job,” she had said. “You could pass for a new employee.” Yet another insult. “Is there someone else who could do it?” she then asked. “What does your mother say when you help her cook?”

And it was at that Marik responded with, “How are those kids of yours who moved out and actually enjoy life?”

He went and told Vern that he would be quitting after that. Mackenzie had followed suit as she didn’t want to be stuck alone in a job that promised no future for her. Also, Marik guessed she did so to ease their mother’s feelings if it had only been him to walk away from that job.

Marik suspected that the only reason why their mother hadn’t found out yet was that Mrs. McGlauchlen never talked to anybody and his friends in the shop agreed to stay quiet as well as giving them meats to take home with them to keep up the illusion and creating an excuse for Mrs. Kaiser to not have to go shopping there.

Of course, that created the problem of not having any sort of income that would surely be noticed. And that was what led them to their newest “job” of sorts.

“The coast is clear,” Mackenzie announced after checking both ways down the alley.

Nodding his response, Marik took his metal stick and put his thumb, index, and middle finger to the end of it. After a few deep breaths, the cold iron grew hot and a sizzling ball of light sparked itself to life where his touch retreated. Mackenzie did the same to hers and soon two sizzling sparks were helping to better illuminate their portion of the alley.

The light they had created fizzled brightly, the rest of the metal stick showing signs of the warmth from where Marik held it in his grasp. But he knew that what lay at the end would not burn him or hurt him in the slightest, nor Mackenzie with hers.

What resided at the tip of their sticks could closely resemble fire in its glow and captivating radiance, but fire needed the air to breathe, to grow. This was something created all by the Kaiser siblings, breathing and moving as they saw fit.

They had to have been no older than six when they first discovered this particular aspect of their lives. Back then they had been playing around with wooden sticks, pretending to be valiant members of the Tamaples Military fighting against imaginary soldiers and some of the monstrous creatures that resided out in the wilderness. While swinging around their imaginary weapons, they soon found them engulfed by the strange spectacle.

With wondrous terror fueling their legs, they had ran to go and fetch their mother. When Miriam saw what her two young children were holding, she had been quick to try and snatch the growing pyre from their hands. She had not been as blessed as they had when she touched those spectral flames, having to spend hours nursing her hands afterward.

After that little mishap, Miriam flat out refused to address any questions that they had about the nature of this occurrence. If they would continue to pester her for answers, she would always reply with, “It’s something that your father would know.”

Of course, this didn’t stop a couple of curious siblings from trying to better figure it out themselves. And when their mother always ended up catching them practicing when they thought they were in secret, she would just heave a heavy sigh and make them promise to make sure no one else saw them experimenting with their little gift.

Memories of that time would always come back to Marik before they went to go and do this. It was just a promise they had made as kids. They had just been children not knowing then that their little gift would one day provide for them.

With their metal sticks blazing, they exited the alley and to the street corner where they had come to know as their workspace. To many of the locals, they didn’t particularly share too much interest in the doings of the Kaiser siblings, no doubt thinking this was nothing but a get-rich-quick scheme but in the case that they raised suspicion with this new occupation, the excuse of it being a side performance on their days off seemed to fly just fine so far.

It was different with children who were fascinated by just about anything that the two of them did, and the Kaiser’s always made sure to trace elaborate shapes onto the scrap metal in a display of “art.”

The two of them always got the best earnings from kids' parents, especially if those parents happened to be passing through their town on the way to the capital. It didn’t hurt that the both of them did like seeing kids' faces light up with joy at the miniature spectacle before them; just so long as the kids weren’t bratty. They would smile along with the new youth when they presented them with those new gifts for memento's sake.

Evidently, the number of tourists must have been in great abundance as Marik noticed their can come close to overflowing after a man in a dark suit and hat tossed a handful of currency to them after Mackenzie cut a detailed eye shape into one piece and made it look as though she extinguished her flame by swallowing it.

Marik put his out in a similar fashion before retrieving the can from the street corner. Before he could hand it over to Mackenzie for safekeeping, a grip on his shoulder alerted his attention elsewhere.

Fearing that it might be a preacher of some kind, or even his mother, Marik’s neck nearly spun around completely before he spotted who it was. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You mean, it’s me, sir,” the familiar young man corrected as he stood before them in the refined blue drab of Tamaples Military wear. The rifle slung across his shoulder, honorary sword at his hip, and miniature canisters strapped around his legs gave the impression that he was on duty.

“I’m not in the military, Ephram, I’m not calling you sir,” Marik plainly refused the partially older youth.

Ephram merely concealed a chuckle. “How about a sign of respect, how does that sound?”

Marik shrugged. “Do something respectable and we’ll see.”

He clapped Marik on the shoulder. “Keeping up with the skepticism, I see. I can’t say I missed that very much.”

Marik allowed a brief upturn of his mouth before swatting the hand off of him. “And I could say the same but on a much broader scope about you.”

Ephram looked ready to fire back with another rival jab, but his words caught when the other Kaiser moved to stand next to them. “Well, that at least makes one friendly face. Hello, Mackenzie.”

She offered up a simple smile. “Hello yourself, Ephram. I didn’t think we’d be seeing you around here for another month.”

“Things change,” Ephram decided. “I can’t exactly argue with my commander, but I’m also not about to complain either. Although,” his sly brown eyes noticed the can of loot, “I can’t say I expected to see you two out here finishing up doing… whatever it was you were doing.”

“Just a bit of light parlor tricks,” Mackenzie dismissed easily. “Kids seem to love seeing them and giving the passerbyers a taste of what they’ll experience in the capital is basically a public service.”

He nodded at her logic. “I see. Say, how much did you two even make?”

Mackenzie snatched the can away. “Don’t know yet. And just so you know, we’re not paying tax on this.”

Ephram raised his hands in mock surrender. “As far as I know soliciting isn’t taxable.”

“Hobbying isn’t soliciting,” Marik defended their image.

“Feel free to tell that to whoever owns the shop you’re in front of,” Ephram nonchalantly shrugged.

“I would,” Marik seemed to agree. “Thing is, it’s been closed for over two months now, but I can’t blame you for not knowing that.”

Ephram regarded the boarded-up windows. “A shame. They had good food, too.” He looked back at the two siblings. “Looks to me that you’re clearing out of here soon. Mind walking with me to the gate?”

“Well, we-,” Marik began.

“We wouldn’t mind at all,” Mackenzie finished for him in a different manner. Her answer alone seemed to make Ephram’s day as he beckoned them to follow him to Main St.

They talked along the way, of course, about their job situation, but mostly about Ephram’s time in the military brigade, much to the soldiers' pride. He even showed them the pin he had received from graduating his basic training.

“Fresh and shiny, just as it should be,” he handed it to Mackenzie to examine. “Neat, huh?”

Marik examined it with her. It was a silver casing of a falcon swooping down with a single arrow clutched between the talons. Ephram’s last name of Baum was inscribed below.

Mckenzie handed it back. “Yeah, shiny indeed.”

“How’d you get it so clean like that?” Marik asked. “Did you have to kiss it?” He suspected Ephram to accept it silently, but the soldier had a retort.

“You like it? Why not come to Walhia and enlist? I’ll see what strings I can pull and maybe Captain Zebes will recruit you.”

“Me, in the military?” Now there was a joke if ever there was one. “Have you actually developed a sense of humor while you were gone?”

“If I remember correctly, I was the one who made you laugh so hard you shot water out of your nose when we were kids,” Ephram would always hold that memory in high praise. “But hey, considering you’re out of a job, why not? Maybe you can impress the sergeant with your little art skills and shoot up the ranks to become a corporal or something. I speak from experience.”

“They’re making you a corporal?” Marik questioned.

“Not yet, but Captain Zebes promised to put in a good word to the brass. I imagine the pay will be significantly better as well.” He glanced over to the blond.

“My, that is certainly good for you,” she offered her support with cheerful malaise. Ephram smiled to himself.

“So where exactly is this captain of yours?” Marik asked. “You don’t seem too worried about him catching you slacking with some town locals.”

Ephram pondered the question. “Classified. He was given orders about a month ago that required any new recruits in his division to be given leave. Like I said, things change.” He put some of his fair brown hair in place as a breeze passed. “Besides, this gives me more time to catch up on all I’ve been missing out around here.” If he had hoped for Mackenzie to say something, he would be thoroughly disappointed when he noticed her attention was focused across the street.

Right by the Main St. fountain was a group of girls calling and waving Mackenzie over their way. Marik recognized a few faces of her friends, the mousy-brown hair of Tina Marz being the most familiar. His sister was eagerly waving back in greeting.

“You boys will excuse me, won’t you?” she asked. “The local gossip mill is a-calling.”

“Of course,” Ephram agreed. Marik nodded as well. And with that, she was off across the street to the giggle of girls that eagerly awaited her.

“Ever the sociable one, I see,” Ephram remarked after she had gone.

“She never stopped,” Marik expressed as he continued walking at a slower pace, waiting for the older boy to catch up. “So, are you happy to be back here?”

“I said as much, didn’t I?” Ephram rhetorically answered as they continued their walk. “Who’d be here talking with you otherwise?”

“Even with being so close to the border?” Marik further questioned, ignoring the latter half. While he had resolved to not talk about his dream until he had spoken to his sister first, he was presented with an opportunity to find out some more of what was actually going on.

“Well, I'm not on the border, I’m right here,” the taller youth poignantly noted. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into the fear-mongering that they were broadcasting earlier.”

“We’re close enough,” Marik mentioned. “And I’m not buying into anything. I’m allowed to be curious; who isn’t when it comes to Matania?” Rumor had it that the Makaro family had eyes redder than a man’s blood that could put those who looked directly into them under a trance.

“Normal people, that’s who,” Ephram adopted a slightly annoyed tone. “All you need to know is that King Kal, and the rest of the Makaro Family, are all talk. This little gambit they’re pulling is a show of strength, nothing more.” His fingers strung along the strap of his rifle.

Marik blinked in stunted exasperation. “My sister isn’t around right now. No need to be acting all tough.”

Ephram gazed over at him. “I’m serious. King Kal is too afraid to even show their face or even give their real name. That title and name is something every ruler of Matania has adopted once they’ve ascended the throne and then disappeared from the public eye.”

On that, Marik guessed that he did have a semblance of a point. Every Makaro ruler since Matania’s formation had done the same. It had been that way for 192 years