"Who's the youngest of our siblings back home?" Arthur asked. Seemingly to no one in particular. "Vera?" He chuckled to himself after a brief moments pause. "Not bad for a teacher. But let me guess, all she taught you was- 'you can punch harder.' Right?"

"Thought so." He chuckled to himself before Jordan could even answer. "Most of the clan is still completely ignorant about the true strength granted by our arms. And our dear father won't even give us all a hint that'd facilitate our growth."

Jordan rolled his eyes at the noticeable, jaded tone expressed by his brother. "If you say so."

"For example." Arthur snapped his finger towards Jordan. "You're right-handed, correct?"

"Yes-"

"Wrong!" Arthur spat. "You're ambidextrous now. You only think you're right handed. Which, along with of the other assumptions you've made about your body, handicaps you."

"Assumptions?" Jordan recoiled as he spat in disgust. "What kind of assumptions do you assume I have?"

"The assumption that your arms somehow grant you superhuman strength." Arthur retorted in his signature matter-of-fact tone. "Despite the fact that the rest of your body is still normal. Was, at least." Arthur sighed. Paused to look somewhere at his feet before returning his cold eyes to Jordan. "What's your grip strength?" He asked. "How much mass can your arms support while held out before your chest at arms length? Spread to your sides? What about overhead?"

"You don't know." He answered again before Jordan could begin to reply. "Because you understood that your new arms were at least stronger than your biological ones. And that was enough of an answer for you."

"Then, how about you teach me." Jordan impatiently groaned. "Since you obviously know everything. Teach me."

"I'll start by asking if you know what our problem; the Clan's problem, is?" Arthur asked.

"Enlighten me."

"We grow up sheltered inside New Bran. And sheltered further inside our precious castle. Coddled by our parents and the Clan's tenders. Then, once we come of age, we're thrown into hard vacuum by the likes of our very own father. Take yourself, for example." He threw his arms in a crude gesture towards Jordan. "You left New Bran and immediately jumped into Campaign on Ganymede; despite being completely ignorant on the formalities. And you paid the price for it. Luckily James was spared from your fate."

'I don't need you to tell me.' Jordan shook his head away from the rising memories of his past mistakes. "You sound bitter, Arthur." Jordan chuckled through his churning emotions. "Don't tell me the same happened to you?"

"We're not talking about me." Arthur gritted through his teeth.

"It built character." Jordan shrugged with his hands. "I've learned my lessons. And most importantly, it removed the fear of the unknown from the whole, flatline equation."

"But I'm sure you've realized it." Arthur retorted. "The more you die, the less human you become."

"It's not exactly-"

"It's dying Jordan." Arthur coldly corrected him. "The body dies. That, is what happens. It's only our technological prowess that allows death to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience. So long as one keeps their head, at least," he said. Staring cold lasers into Jordan's skull as he tapped at his own temple with his finger. "You've lost your entire digestive system. And now most of your skeletal system. What'll be next? Your legs? Neck? Heart? He-"

"Would it be any different if I went to the hospital and paid for them with rubies?" Jordan asked incredulously. "And what's so bad about being less human? Our bodies aren't designed to live in space. They almost have to be changed. Even if they didn't, why wouldn't I want to augment my body?"

"It is different!" Arthur barked. "It's different because the individuals choice is removed from the equation! The implants you get are dictated solely by how you're killed. You've gotten lucky with what you've received thus far. But what'll happen if you lose a part that you'd rather keep as flesh and blood? You'll find yourself mangled and scarred for the rest of your days.

Or, at least until you climb to my level."

"Okay!" Jordan threw his hands up in frustration. "I get your point! You're afraid of losing your body to machine parts. Can't say I share that same phobia."

"You don't get my point, Jordan! Give it up!" Arthur barked again in an orderly tone. "Chasing merit is fine. Campaigning is fine. Chasing your weird versions of freedom is fine. But you're outclassed. And a seed has been planted into your mind that's sprouting into an unhealthy obsession. Challenging people you'll never beat, in the hopes that you'll win, is not how you build Merit."

"What should I do, then?" Jordan tried to fight off the note of despair trembling from his lungs in vain. He felt weak as he looked up to his brother. Steadily arguing his points. "Wait until the knight returns and apologetically return her spear?"

"You wouldn't even been using one if it wasn't for her." Arthur sighed.

"I'm using one now." Jordan snorted. "That's all that matters."

"And what would you be using, if not a spear?" Arthur asked.

"My fucking hands," Jordan flared his nostrils. His patience now drawn thin. "Or daggers, I suppose."

"Then train with both," Arthur said in a more relaxed tone as he hopped from the bar in favor of a seat. "A spear is the better option, in my opinion. As I'm sure you're aware however, each is capable of things that'd be difficult for the other. It'll be easy to install daggers into your arms after you rank up. As for the spear." He paused as he sized Jordan up. "The design of the weapon you're using doesn't fit your style. It's a javelin, essentially. Mean to be thrown or thrusted. Not to be used for slashing, like you've been doing."

'Yeah.' Jordan nodded to himself. 'That goes along with the online dojo's teachings.'

"Let's see this spear of yours," Arthur said. Looking around. "It should be here by now."

"Should we go to your training room?" Jordan stood. Looked around for a route to the basements.

"I won't keep declining you, Jordan." Arthur groaned. "I will not train you. I only have words for you."

"Useless words, apparently." Jordan muttered under his breath. "Then it's as I said before. I have nothing to show you, Arthur."

"Hmphf." Arthur crossed his arms and adjusted his seat. "You're still a child."

"I'd rather stay a child for all my lifetimes than become a pretentious old geezer like you!" Jordan snapped. The fluctuations of his emotions. Arthur riling him up only to bring him back down, became too much for Jordan's otherwise placid mind to handle. He shot out of his chair and stepped before his brother to look up into his eyes with a resentful scowl. "When's the last time we saw each other?" He spat. "After your trial? Now, after all this time, you summon me here just to berate me? The days you could do that are long gone, Arthur. I came here to learn, train, or get experience. If you're not offering any of those in exchange for anything, then I'm leaving."

Arthur paused for a long moment and stared apologetically at a point somewhere past Jordan shoulders. Jordan began tracing his eyes for a second before noticing what his brother was looking at and turning back to him with a scowl.

"Don't be embarrassed for his sake." Jordan spat at his brother. "I won't sugarcoat my words just because he's here, and neither should you."

Arthur lazily returned his gaze to Jordan before gently brushing him out of his personal space. "You were a bully as a child. Did you know that? I've seen you square up to James, Jaques and the others just like that hundreds of times back in the day. It pains me that you haven't grown out of it."

"Yeah, well." Jordan shrugged with his hands. "We're ill bred."

Arthur straightened his posture and looked down on Jordan with a seething intensity. "Our mother's aren't comparable to our father in that way."

"For you, maybe." Jordan snorted. "But once upon a time. My mother, along with our dad and the other founders, were branded as traitors to Mars and exiled from the inner-worlds."

Arthur paused as the obvious truth proverbially smacked him in the face.

Jordan leaned forward to continue on in his sudden assault. Desperate to make Arthur feel anything akin to what he was made to feel. "No one in the Powers is innocent, Arthur. Especially not us. You know that everyone affiliated with us is damned by association. Nothing will change that."

"You're right." Arthur nodded hesitantly. "But-"

"No! I'm speaking now!" Jordan spat. "You know what your problem is, Arthur? You're a hypocrite. You act like you know everything, but refuse to teach. You talk all this shit about my mistakes, when you've probably made the exact same ones yourself. You constantly talk down on the clan, even though you've haven't returned to New Bran in almost a year. You've never even met our baby sisters, and you have the audacity to summon me here to play 'big brother!?' Hah! Your high and mightiness makes me sick, Arthur. You act like a Saturnian."

"That's just a stereotype." Arthur curtly replied as if that were the only thing he'd heard.

"That's exactly what I mean!" Jordan threw his hands out in anger before beginning to pace about the room. Breathing heavily. "I mean- how would you even know that!?!"

"Our father is in Saturnia, you know." Arthur mumbled with a shrug. "Regardless, Jordan. Just listen to me. If not because I'm your elder, then because of my ra-"

"Don't you dare pull the Merit card!" Jordan stomped before Arthur once more. "If you're gonna do that then I'll challenge you to Campaign."

"And I'll decline." Arthur laughed the threat away before taking a deep, labored breath and looking at Jordan with tired eyes. "You're asking me to drive you to your death. As your… big brother." He sighed. "I simply can't do that."

'Where have I heard that before.' Jordan snorted to himself. Stepped off to leave the room with a hesitant Gelos in tow. "Then there's nothing else for us to talk about." He called over his shoulder.

"There's nowhere for you to go!" Arthur called after him. "You can't leave until I say you can!"

"I can if I run back!" Jordan spat back into the room.

***

"Family." Gelos' voice loomed from just behind Jordan moments before he joined him on Arthur's porch. "My condolences." He chuckled softly. Placing his eyes somewhere on the curved skyline before them.

Jordan only grunted in response. "He's a pretentious prick."

"True." Gelos nodded. "He had good points though. About grip strength and all that."

"Half of it was stuff I already knew," Jordan said. "The other half was good; in principle. But still useless."

"How can anything like that be useless?" Gelos laughed in disbelief.

Jordan paused. Looking up in the sky as if to find an answer drawn within the film of dark clouds settling above the skyline in the distance. "The thing is," he finally said. "Arthur likes to quantify things. Not necessarily a good or bad thing, just the way he is. The way I see it however. Testing for the sake of numbers, or coming to understand my limits through training would yield the same result. In the end, it all comes down to personal preference."

"Uh- Ahah." Gelos started before chuckling awkwardly. "I guess that's true. It seems like he just doesn't want you fighting Law."

"What he wants is irrelevant." Jordan snorted. "It's my life. And I'll do what I want. He needs to understand that."

"I understand that clearly." Arthur called from behind them. Then stepped past a moment later, opening his car and climbing halfway inside. "I'm just trying to help you understand the consequences of your choices. Now let's go."

"Where?" Jordan asked.

"Nagata's Shrine," Arthur said. "A bar."

"You have a bar inside." Jordan snorted.

"Alcohol isn't the only thing that can be found in a bar." Arthur chuckled to himself before gripping Jordan beneath the arm and lifting him gently from the porch. "Let's go." He tugged again. "I need to see something."

With all the energy having been drained from him, Jordan wordlessly fell along with Arthur's plans and rode through the suburbs to the castle-like structure they'd passed on the way in.

Nearly fifty heads swiveled to the unsealing doors as Arthur waltzed into the place. Jordan and Gelos in tow, watching in disbelief and the dozens of Galilean's nodding, cheering and raising glasses towards the 11th child of the Clan.

Completely undeservingly, in Jordan's opinion.

"Son of a bitch." The burly bartender bellowed at Arthur. He had deep-brown skin like rich soil. Juxtaposed against blindingly white teeth exposed in a sly grin. Pinching his eyepatch-like visor into place around his eyes. "You really are a child of the Clan." He laughed.

"I am. Not my fault you never asked." Arthur grinned. Finding his place at the bar before gesturing to his sides. "This is my little brother, Jordan. And his friend, Gelos."

'Little brother.' Jordan sneered as he curtly nodded to the man. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. Call me Sam." He heaved his overgrown shoulders in a grotesque resemblance of a shrug before reaching under the bar and setting four small glasses before him.

Arthur reached his hand halfway across the bar. Abruptly halting the giant's motions. "Before we get started, Sam. I want you to help talk some sense into my brother."

Sam cocked his massive head to the side and otherwise didn't move. Yet, Jordan could somehow tell he was the primary focus of the black, seemingly featureless panels covering his eyes. "Is this the little Knight Slayer?" He rhetorically asked with a dry chuckle. "The one you were obsessing over the other day?"

"Over a week ago, yes." Arthur grunted out his correction. "We wants to challenge a Saturnian Knight; a Field Marshal if i'm not mistaken, with her own weapon until he manages to win."

"Field Marshal. Hmm. Sounds like an officer," Sam said. Scratching at his face with barrel sized fingers as he continued mumbling incoherently to himself.

"You know about them?" Jordan sprang forward in his seat. Desperate to get any kind of information of the knight's lore that he could.

"I know to stay away from them! Bagahahaha!" Sam bellowed across the room. "But, that's also to say I know that no one has actively hunted them before." He paused for an almost uncomfortable moment before pulling a bottle from the shelf behind him, pouring four shots and scattering them around their section of the bar.

"To you, Jordan Astros!" Sam grinned, raising his glass high. Startling Gelos in his seat and triggering a wave of embarrassment to wash over Jordan as Arthur mumbled out disgruntled obscenities beneath the bartender's roar. "The Knight Slayer!"

The dozens of patrons inside responded in turn with booming tribal chants that shook the very walls. "To the Knight Slayer!" The screamed.

For seemingly hours. Drowning Jordan into a simmering, embarrassed rage.

"First you call me to the surface to talk shit." Jordan seethed next to his brother. His nostrils flaring with each breath, his brows furrowed semi-permanently into a resentful scowl. "When that's not enough, you drag me out in public and try to embarrass me around your friends." Jordan snorted loudly as if to punctuate his words.

"I know you don't care about what other people think." Arthur let out a snort of his own as he turned away from both Sam and the cheering crowd. Focusing only on Jordan and Gelos to either side of him. "I brought you here to drink! Rounds on me!"

Jordan had never been much of a fan of inebriation. In his current situation however, the premise of intoxication sounded particularly alluring to him. Almost to the point that he found himself craving it.

Knocking back his first shot filled his mouth with a burning liquid that stabbed at his mouth and throat as it funneled down. Leaving behind smoky aftertastes of nuts and caramel lingering on his igneous breath.

[Set Preferences for Blood Alcohol Content.]

Jordan casually set the level to .05 before waving away his augmented distractions and knocking back another shot. Feeling a newfound appreciation for his internal systems that he held onto to like a liferaft thrown to save him from his growing negative emotions. He could drink all night and stay sober if he wanted. Or even maintain whatever level of tipsiness he wanted. For days on end.

"Sho." Gelos leaned across the bar after ingesting his fourth shot. "What brought yhou to GHanymede, Arthur?"

Arthur waved to the burly, weirdly visored bartender for another shot before explaining. "I stayed in Neo Europe for a few months before moving to Oscana to learn how to operate. Then, around four months ago, I moved to Choece for my studies."

During the course of their conversation, Jordan absently listened in on Arthur's ramblings about studying architecture and his tentative plans to leave the Powers sometime in the near future to explore the inner-worlds. Prompting a drunk Gelos to begin explaining the industrial military culture of Mars with impressively increasing incoherence. Continuing on for nearly a full hour before passing out on the bar. Snoring loudly with his head in his arms as if to continue his drunken tangent in somnambulance.

"I don't plan on staying up here," Jordan said softly. Staring all the while at Gelos sleeping peacefully. "I'll face the knight again, whether you train me or not."

"I know." Arthur sighed heavily. "I heard you earlier."

"Then wouldn't it make sense to give me the tools and knowledge I need to succeed, instead of toying with my emotions?"

"Not one to intrude on family business." Sam grunted as he tossed the now empty bottle into the recycler's chute and distributed the final round to himself and the two brothers. "But, the kid has a point."

Arthur fell silent. His eyes drifted down to the floor. Before moving to Jordan, to Sam. And back to Jordan. Like he was just now considering it for the first time.

"Besides. You're retired." Sam heaved his massive shoulders into another shrug. "May as well pass off the title of Spear Bearer to your little brother."

Honestly, Sam." Arthur snorted to himself before removing his glasses for a vigorous cleaning. "You're supposed to be on my side."

After a long pause of Arthur cleaning his spectacles, he returned them to his face before slamming down the shot. Then stood from the bar to begin hoisting up Gelos from under the arms. "Help me bring him to the car."

"Does that mean you agree to our deal?" Jordan asked, remaining cemented to his seat. Eyes locked on Arthur.

Who sighed heavily before heaving Gelos from the bar. Refusing to even look Jordan's way as he answered. "It does, Jordan. Just... don't make me regret it."