Caelius answered his older brother only for his words to be muffled by the pillow in his face. He could feel Camren's weight sinking into the bed beside Caelius' lying body.

"You know," said the older brother, "you're never going to improve if you keep giving up."

The little brother answered him again with more pillow-muffled words.

"Hm. That's interesting," Camren replied.

The little brother spoke into his pillow once more.

"I completely agree." Camren nodded.

Caelius tilted his head away from the pillow to gaze up at his brother. "You have no idea what I'm saying."

Camren smiled. "My muffle-tongue is impeccable. Do not disparage my years of education."

Caelius stared up at his brother with hard eyes.

The younger brother felt small in a world too large for him. His bed was a field of soft blankets decorated with elegant floral patterns. Four wooden pillars rose up from the bed corners to hold up a canopy that might as well have been the sky as far Caelius was concerned. And the room itself seemed a world of its own.

His older brother also made him feel small with the way he towered over him. A fact that made Caelius avert his eyes from his brother's knowing gaze.

"I'll never improve," said Caelius. "My instructor said so."

"Did he now?"

The younger brother hung his head. "No......But I knew that was what he was thinking."

"You know that, do you?"

"Yes. I could see it in his eyes."

"You could see it in his eyes?"

"Yes. And don't give me that look. I know I'm right."

Camren shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Definitely."

The elder brother chuckled. "You know I could give you some lessons if you want."

"Father said not to."

Camren responded with another shrug. "Do you want me to, anyway?"

Caelius looked up and met his older brother's eyes.

The little boy propped himself upright on his bed and contemplated Camren's offer. Did he want lessons from his brother?

He didn't have to think on it for too long before he averted his gaze and hung his head. "No," Caelius mumbled under his breath. "It's fine."

Camren peered into his little brother's eyes. "Are you sure?"

The young boy wanted to reaffirm his refusal only to taste the lie in his mouth.

"Because I've seen your technique," his older brother continued. "You handle a sword like a log. With the grace of a one-legged mule."

Caelius' head drooped lower at the insult.

Camren kept on speaking. "I could give you a few tips. I could even-"

"I said no!"

To his surprise, Camren had fallen silent. The stunted expression was so unfamiliar to Caelius that he suddenly felt the need to take advantage of that moment. "I just...I just want to...I don't want to..."

"You don't want to what?"

"I just...I just don't want to learn how to use...a sword..."

Caelius gazed up at his brother, timidly, to gauge his reaction. A Paravellan who refused the blade would have set an unacceptable precedent, especially from someone of royal blood. His older brother had always been patient with him. But from the look on Camren's expressionless face, perhaps the young boy had finally crossed the line. Caelius turned away as he attempted to explain myself.

"I...I know that...you learned how to use a sword. I know that father did too. And so did grandfather. But I...I...I hate it." Caelius found himself snarling the words. "I hate everything about it. It's not just because I'm not good at it. I just...I just...I just..."

He cut himself off. Caelius looked away and resigned himself to his brother's judgement. There was nothing the young boy could say that could-

Caelius suddenly felt a large gentle hand on his little shoulder.

"Look at me."

The young boy cowered from his brother's voice.

"Look at me."

At the repeated command, Caelius reluctantly peered up at the grown sapphire eyes staring back down at him. The young boy took a deep breath and braced himself for his brother's verdict.

Camren offered a small nod. "If you don't want to learn the blade then you shouldn't have to."

Caelius jerked back at the response. "What?"

"I'll talk to father and see if I can smooth things over with him. He'll be upset at first but...I think I can convince him."

The young boy frowned at his brother's response. "No, no, no," Caelius said while shaking his head. "I don't want your help. I just want...I just want to..."

"Hey. If you do not wish to learn the blade then you do not have to," Camren repeated himself.

"But father-"

"Let me handle father. As it so happens, father owes me a favour. A favour I plan on calling in."

Caelius shook his head again. "No, I told you. I don't-"

"Enough." The prince ordered.

Camren frowned down at Caelius with a look the young boy recognized as an expression of pity.

"It pains me to see you suffer so," said the prince. "Although, I do wish that you tried harder at your lessons..."

Caelius turned away to hide his tears.

"But," Camren started as he gently directed his little brother's eyes back up at him, revealing a face glistening with tear streaks. He continued, "You and I both know that your strengths lie elsewhere."

The young boy sniffled and wiped the tears from his cheeks while his older brother addressed him.

"And I think you'll be more of an asset to this empire if you focus more on those strengths. And I'll need those strengths when I take my place on the throne. If all goes well, maybe no one else will need to learn the blade ever again."

Caelius frowned up at his brother. No one will need to learn the blade ever again? What did that mean? What was...

That was when it hit him. The Prince of the Paravellan Empire genuinely expected to end the war in his reign. A war that had lasted for generations.

Caelius stared wide-eyed at his brother.

"Yes, I know," said Camren. "A folly and a dream. Father gives me the same look."

"No, I just...I just think..." The young boy could feel the prince's eyes on him as Caelius tried to finish the sentence. "I just think......you're an idiot."

The words were blurted out before the young boy realized what he just said. Caelius gazed up at his brother's eyes to discern his reaction to see a blank expression staring back at him.

Oh, Volenia. He was serious.

A moment of silence passed between them before the corner of Camren's lips crooked up into a faint grin. Caelius then crawled back as his older brother's hands suddenly reached out towards him.

"Is that what you think, is it?"

The young boy then began writhing from Camren's tickling fingers, causing him to squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

"No!" Caelius yelled, laughing. "No! Stop! Stop!"

His older brother ignored his pleas and continued his onslaught, eliciting louder bouts of laughter. Eventually, Camren ceased his tickling to peer down at his brother's face.

"There we go," said the prince. "I was wondering where that smile went."

When the young boy's laughter died down, Caelius layed on his back and looked up at Camren.

"Why would you do all this for me?" asked the boy.

His older brother responded with a raised brow. "And you say I'm the idiot."

Caelius frowned.

"You're my brother," Camren expanded on his answer. "We're family." The prince gently poked his younger brother's cheek. "I will strive to keep that stupid smile on your stupid face."

The boy smiled.

"So," Camren continued, "Whatever you choose, I will support your decision with all my power."

Caelius lay there stunned on the bed. "I..."

He had always known about his older brother's compassionate streak, but he never expected the authentic passion in his words.

"I..."

Then another thought occurred to Caelius. As young as he was, even he knew the obstacles that existed for his brother's ambitions. Not just from the war elves but from his own people as well. If Camren was planning what Caelius was thinking, then he'd need to exercise a sense of cunning and deception to keep himself alive, let alone to keep himself seated on the throne. As cunning as his brother was in the ways of combat, Caelius feared the prince did not possess the necessary conviction to do what needed to be done to accomplish his goals. Not without help. Not without-

'And I think you'll be more of an asset to this empire if you focus more on those strengths.' His brother's words echoed in his mind. 'And I'll need those strengths when I take my place on the throne.'

The realization struck him like a splash of cold water in his face.

His brother needed his help. He was hoping for it.

Or was he expecting it? Was that why he was always treating him kindly?

Caelius peered up at his brother's soft eyes and gentle smile.

No. His kindness was indiscriminate. The only significant distinction between his treatment of Caelius and other people was most likely due to their familial relations. If anything, this kindness could be used to the young boy's advantage. To be liberated from exhaustive swordsmanship lessons, offering him breathing room to pursue his other studies of interest. Yes. Now that he knew the extent of his brother's affection for him, he could exploit it to its full-

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, an uneasy feeling suddenly struck him like a gutting blade.

No.

It was important that his brother remain untainted by the politics of his own empire. Which was why the boy found his next words painfully difficult to speak out loud.

"I... I think I'll continue my lessons."

His older brother seemed just as surprised as Caelius was.

"You'll continue?"

The young boy didn't respond straight away. He needed to contemplate his decision. After all, he really, really, really, did hate learning the blade.

But...

"Yes. I... I don't think I can get you in trouble," said Caelius.

His older brother shook his head. "You mustn't think of me."

"No," the boy retorted with a stern voice. "This is my decision, brother."

Caelius maintained his firm gaze against the prince's raised brow. The longer he held it, the more determined the boy felt about his decision. This was what needed to be done.

Camren must have detected his little brother's convictions as he broke the brief silence between them with a nod.

"Okay," the prince conceded. "As you wish."

The young boy responded with a nod before exhaling the breath that he had been holding. Selflessness was decidedly irksome for the boy.

"And what about the labyrinth?" his older brother asked.

"What?"

"The labyrinth. Within the Iron Factory."

A cold silence then passed between them as Camren grinned at his little brother.

"Hey!"

Marschal whipped around to face the other Paravellan and her friends who were eyeing him quizzically.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

"Um..."

Marschal frowned at Nivere the swordswoman. He then looked back at the open gates swarming with an exodus of people smart enough to fear death.

Why was he not one of them?

"You are leaving?" asked Nivere.

"Um...I don't-"

Fibir's voice suddenly echoed across the courtyard. "For those of you remaining, the entrance gates behind you will remain open for you until the end of the day. But once you step inside the Factory your decision will be considered final and you'll only be able to leave once the challenge has ended." The elf then raised a hand and gestured to someone in the room behind him. "Now, without further ado..."

On cue, the Iron Factory began to reverberate with a cacophony of mechanical moving parts. As the booming sound of metal hitting metal echoed across the courtyard, the four gates beneath Fibir's balcony started opening like steel curtains. Marschal found the sheer size of the moving gates mesmerizing to watch, as did everyone else around him. A few seconds passed before the gates eventually locked into place with loud simultaneous clanks.

A silence then settled onto the populated courtyard.

"You may now enter," Fibir spoke into the quiet. "Please proceed through the gates in an orderly fashion. And I wish you all luck for the challenge ahead."

With those words, the forge elf bowed as his bright scorching hair reverted back to its original raven colour. At the same time, the iron flower device that projected his voice dimmed while its metallic petals closed back up into a sphere.

While Fibir moved away from view and headed back inside the building, Marshal's gaze shifted to the hooded woman still peering down at the courtyard.

"Boy?" Marschal could hear Nivere's voice addressing him. "Are you coming?"

Just as he was about to face his fellow Paravellan, the hooded woman suddenly shifted her gaze in his direction. When Marschal returned the stare, he noticed her shrouded face not looking away. Was she looking at him? Was she the one he was supposed to be helping? The friend of the golden-eyed elf?

"Well?" said Nivere.

Marschal tore his eyes away from the woman on the balcony to peer at the three seasoned Paravellan warriors eyeing him, expectantly.

He then answered Nivere's question with a slow nod. "...Okay."

"Okay?" Nivere replied.

Marschal nodded reluctantly at her.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm coming with you."

"Alright." Nivere nodded back. "Good."

She then turned to face her companions. "Let's go."

A bellowing roar of excitement suddenly shattered Marschal's eardrum as the large bearded man gripped the young Paravellan's shoulder and shook it gleefully. When they moved off towards the open Factory gates, Marschal noticed Nivere's red-headed friend studying him with narrowed eyes. The scrawny Paravellan dared not move beneath the red man's gaze, as though taking a step would rouse the predator's attention.

He was suspicious. Did he know?

A few more seconds passed before the red man turned around, almost disinterested, and followed his friends. Marschal watched the strange trio before peering back up at the woman on the balcony.

She had disappeared.

Did all hooded figures in this part of the world vanish into thin air?

When he looked back down, he found the three warriors staring at him, patiently.

With nothing else for it, Marschal sighed before moving onward with his newfound companions. Towards the open looming gates of the Iron Factory.

As the crowd of hopefuls slowly swarmed into the metal building, Oak stood not too far from its entrance watching the people around him disappear into the dark opening.

He took a deep breath.

The thing he was looking for could be found inside this building...supposedly. If she was to be believed. However, he never found himself to be the-

Suddenly, a burst of pain racked through Oak's right arm which elicited a suppressed cry of pain from the elf. He clutched his hidden arm and felt the tendrils writhe and slither beneath his red cloak. Most of the people surrounding the trembling elf offered him a passing glance before continuing their way into the Factory.

Eventually, when the pain gradually subsided, Oak recovered himself with a straightened posture and took another deep breath.

The episode was not as painful as the ones previous. Although, Oak found himself wondering if that was a good sign.

He shook off the ordeal and stared back up at the Iron Factory before making his way inside with everyone else.