“Chaos is not a mere state of utter confusion and panic, ruled over by complete disorder. It is a herald of change, for change always leads to some level of disorder. It is a reminder, that man is fragile but strong, that the world and its workings are commonly simple but unimaginably fickle. It is, in essence, the perfect representation of our world…

…Chaos is neither wholly evil nor good. It is, in fact, a mix of both, intermingling so purposefully and well that there are no other words to describe it, other than Chaos.” – an excerpt from ‘The Thoughts’, written by Loenidus, 387 BP.

“…And so the brave warriors of the Seven Races prepared to make their final stand. Standing by the river Er, they steeled themselves for one last battle, one last push against the evil Urians…”

Kosian listened to Marie with half an ear. Unlike the little boys and girls, which surrounded the old lady sitting on her stool, he had heard the story a hundred times over. He only listened because he had nothing else better to do. It was either this or looking at people passing by, people he saw every day – merchants, dressed in sleeveless fur coats, apprentices, running past while carrying bundles of instruments to their masters, townswomen, walking to the market with their baskets. The sameness of it all sometimes made Kosian want to growl. But not today. No, today, he was going to let all of Baye know, that he was about to get a little brother or sister. He smiled just thinking about it. Pierre had a little sister, sometimes bringing her along in their adventures. He imagined as he did the same, showing his younger sibling how to most easily climb a fence, how to make the yak belch in a funny way, how to play war and other types of games.

“Kos, let’s go!”

Turning, Kosian smiled at the sight of Lucian and Pierre. Running up to them, he hugged both of them.

“Did you hear?!” he asked hurriedly.

The two boys shook their heads slowly. Grinning even more widely, Kosian laughed as he yelled out:

“My sibling is being born today!”

His sudden outburst even scared a few passersby. Nodding sorry, Kosian waved for the two of them to follow.

As they ran straight past Glory street, running along its cobblestone road, along the collonaded walls of grain centres or passing the small gates into smaller courtyards, gathering others of their small band of friends, Kosian couldn’t help but smile. He liked his friends, but he always felt something… odd when talking to them. Like they purposely distanced themselves, forcing themselves to agree. He couldn’t understand why. Never. After all, that they’ve been through, from small street fights to war playing, they still sometimes kept to themselves. A specific memory suddenly struck Kosian, which he forcibly pushed down. Instead, he took a deep breath. And stopped suddenly.

Kosians gaze was caught by a young man, dressed in tattered britches and a dirty white shirt. Standing in a small back alley, which connected Glory street to Butchers street, he was cursing and kicking something on the ground. Kosian felt his hair stand, as he saw a small arm fall on the ground. ‘Oh no.’ he thought. Reaching his arm out, he was about to shout, before feeling someone grab his arm. Turning, he saw Pierre, looking at him with a grim expression.

“Don’t look at them, Kos.” He said sneeringly, looking at the man. “Just some street rats fighting over food.”

Kosian looked at him with a confused expression. He felt that Pierre didn’t truly think that. He heard a hint of unbelief in his otherwise condescending voice. Turning from Pierre to the alley, he saw that the man was already gone. Forcing his hand out of Pierre’s grip, he ran up to the hand, which lay still on the cobblestones.

Lying behind a small box, dressed in a patchy dress, lay a girl, her face covered in bruises. Kneeling, Kosian didn’t know where to begin. Awkwardly crouching over her, he tried to pick her up, sit her down somehow.

“Kos! We’ll leave you! C’mon!”

Looking at the boys at the entrance to the back alley, he felt a prick of anger at them. How could they act like that, when this person was so hurt. But, then again, he didn’t want them to leave him. Without knowing what else to do, Kosian pried open his small coin pouch and placed two silver laurels in the girl’s hand, clenching it shut.

“Use it to buy some medicine.” He said running back to the others.

Kosian watched the setting sun, slowly swinging on the lone swing in the courtyard. Not long after he gave that girl the money, all of the boys dispersed, mentioning one thing or other. Later that day, when Kosian was shopping with one of the servants, he saw them playing war.

“They probably were too afraid to knock on our door.” Kosian thought out loud, his voice bittersweet. But he did believe it. Pierre and Lucian often mentioned how scary it was to approach his house, especially when Jan stood guarding the main gate to the courtyard. ‘Yeah, that’s probably it’ he thought. Jumping down from the swing, he still smiled. Karia said that mother was not to be disturbed and asked him to wait outside. Still, Kosian couldn’t help himself. Looking around, to make sure nobody was around or too busy working, he slowly crept up next to the stairs that led to their apartments. Climbing, he could feel a tingling feeling. Anticipation was probably evident all over him.

As he reached the door, about to open it, they swung open, revealing father. Dressed in his puffed sleeve shirt and sleeveless fur coat, he looked down to Kosian. With a wide smile on his bearded and stoic face and brilliantly shining blue eyes. Kosian answered back with a wide grin. Picking him up, father started laughing, as he carried him on his shoulders deeper inside. The boy ruffled his already messy black hair even more.

“It’s a boy, Kosian! A boy!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the wide halls of the mansion. Kosian felt himself smiling so hard it started to hurt. Laughing along with father, he echoed his voice.

“It’s a boy! A BOY”

“A BOY! A BOY!”

Like a hurricane, they ran around the large house, scaring servants cleaning, bursting and running through the kitchens, laughing as they went. Kosian felt himself get lightheaded from the laughter and the excitement.

Finally, father put him down. The two of them stood in front of a large set of doors, made of black ironwood – the entrance to mother and fathers sleeping quarters. With shaking hands, father tapped at the door. Kosian could hear rustling and the sound of heels hitting the wooden floor. Jon’s old and withered face appeared from behind the door. Her wrinkled old face stared down the man and boy, both looking at her expectedly. A warm smile slowly etched her face, as she opened the door.

Kosian darted in first. The room was large, with a small table, a few sitting cushions and his parents’ large bed. There, covered by sheets, lay mother, her face pale and hidden behind her sweat-soaked strands of hair. Next to her, wrapped in white swaddling clothes, lay a little bean-shaped thing. Two arms, as small as eating utensils reached into the sky. Kosian watched, as father slowly approached, kneeling next to the bed. Mother smiled, reaching her arm to him. He immediately grabbed it, placing it on his cheek.

“How are you, Enriet?” father asked, gazing at her and the little boy.

Mother smiled warmly, slipping her hand out of his and holding it above the two little arms. A set of five fingers, small and fatty clenched one of her fingers.

“I’ve felt worse.” She answered wryly.

“So you always say,” Father answered, chuckling softly. Looking at the little bundle of swaddling, he smiled even more warmly. “May I?”

With a nod from mother, father carefully held up the babe. His eyes were still closed. Kosian watched as father started tearing up. Quickly wiping his face, he motioned for Kosian to come closer. Crouching to be at eye level to him, father smiled, tears still streaming from his eyes.

“Kosian, this is your new brother, Pietre.”

“…Pietre…” Kosian said silently. Carefully, he lifted his finger closer to the little face, which peeked through the white sheet. One of those tiny arms grabbed it. He seemed so fragile. So weak. Kosian felt tears streaming down his cheeks. Trying to hold it in, he started to silently sob. He felt father place a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Kosian.” He said, smiling. He also had tears streaming from his eyes.

The moment felt as if it dragged on for an eternity. An eternity of pure bliss and happiness. Just looking at that round face, Kosian imagined how he would run around with his brother through the streets of Baye, how they would climb the lonely oak, which stood next to the bridge, how he would make another set of swings and teach him, how the two of them would go to the academy when they got older. Just imagining all that made him want to squeeze that little white bean. But those small fingers, which wrapped around his. It reminded him that he was the older one. He needed to protect this little bean, no matter the cost.

So bedazzled was Kosian, that it took him a second to notice that fathers face suddenly turned grim. Standing, father placed Pietre back on the bed, leading Kosian next to it. Turning around, Kosian only now noticed the three men, standing next to the small table of the room. Two were dressed in pure white capes, which completely covered their bodies, wide-brimmed hats partially covering their strange-looking ceramic masks in shadow. In the middle of them, dressed in a long white robe, which was beautifully embroidered with blue and gold tassels, stood a lanky man, a smug of superiority etched into his face of sharp features. Kosian knew the man. He saw him every 1st day of the week, when he, father, mother and all of the servants went to St. Thomus cathedral. Father Maximien always reminded Kosian of a sickly crow. Smiling even more broadly with that smug grin, his deep golden eyes shining a sinister light, Maximien clasped his arms.

“Ahh, what a great day it is! Congratulations Geofroi, Enriet! Oh, how great it is to see a new life being born into this world of ours!”

“What are you doing here, Father Maximien?!” father asked angrily. Kosian noticed Maximien flinch a touch at that, though it didn’t wipe that stupid grin off his face.

“Why, I’ve come here to see the babe of course! After all, it is my job as the Father of the nearest church to check every newborn!”

Kosian noticed as fathers face grew even grimmer.

“We were planning on making the Born walk in a weeks’ time. I even told you this a few days ago!” father said, his voice growing in anger. “I ask again, what are you doing here!”

That superior look faded like mist from Maximiens face. crossing his arms, he stared back at father, glare for glare.

“I will leave this beautiful city in a few days. Before that, I wanted to finish my duties as fast as possible. That is all. Now, show me the child.”

Father stayed silent for a long time. looking around, Kosian could see the handmaids furiously whispering with each other, fearfully looking at the two white caped men next to Maximien. Jon seemed to have grown a dozen more wrinkles in the past few minutes, as she glared lightning bolts at the three men. But what worried Kosian the most was mother. Her face was as pale as those decorative plates they had hung up in the dining hall.

Finally, father moved. With clenched fists, he approached the bed, bending to pick up the little babe. As soon as his hands were about to reach under him, mother clasped his sleeve. Kosian could hear her whispering furiously.

“Geofroi, don’t. They’ll take him!”

Father turned to mother. Kosian couldn’t see what face he made, but he did hear his words.

“They won’t. I won’t let them. Trust me.”

Picking up Pietre and gently brushing away mothers hand, father approached Maximien. The Father suddenly revealed a pair of spectacles, which were hidden in a pocket on his chest. Putting them on his long beaky nose, he carefully took Pietre from father’s arms. Maximien looked him around, weighing him in his arms, forcibly opening his eyelids. Being handled so roughly, Pietre started to wail. Maximien kept on as if the wailing wasn’t even there. Throwing the swaddling clothes on the ground, he examined Pietres small body, sighing to himself.

“Oh, dearie me.” He finally said, wrapping Pietre back in his swaddling clothes expertly. “It is as I had feared. The Lord has marked this boy. It was a good thing that I came, otherwise, his curse would’ve fallen on your entire house, Geofroi.”

Kosian suddenly felt something. A stabbing pain, which made him feel like his heart sank to his heels. Looking at his father, he noticed that blood was dripping from his clenched fist. Suddenly, father raised his head.

“Cut the crap, Maximien! Give me back my son!” he yelled.

The sound made Pietre burst into tears again. Gently swinging him, Maximien tried to calm him.

“Look at what you’ve done, Geofroi. What kind of father makes his son cry? Cut the crap? I’m as serious as the Lords word. This boy will be taken into my custody, to hopefully exercise the curse that he was born with.”

In an instant, chaos erupted, as fathers fist was hurled at Maximien. Everything happened so fast, Kosian couldn’t keep up. One of the caped men, blocked fathers punch. The other then flashed something so quickly from behind his cape, that it seemed a blur. With a thunk, father fell on the floor, gasping for breath. The handmaids started screaming. Jon rushed to father. And while all of this happened, Kosian watched, tears rolling down his cheeks and blood dripping from the places he had dug his nails in, as Maximien slowly walked out of the room, carrying Pietre. He wanted to do something. To jump. To run. To tackle Maximien and make him release Pietre. Curse? What kind of dog dung was that? And yet, he couldn’t. He just stood there, petrified, hearing his mother’s wail, grunts from one of the men as father hopelessly held onto his cape, the thumping of boot against the body, the screaming of the handmaids, the shouting of Jon. And in all of that, the sound he heard the clearest were the cries of Pietre.