Greener Grass

"You are a weak pitiful fool," Viro glares at his charge, disgust plain across his rugged face. "You should be ashamed to call yourself a prince of Wrath."

The harsh words and snickers that rang from his classmates dealt an even bigger blow than the strike that knocked him on his arse.

"You are thirteen moon cycles old and can not even handle a child that is four cycles your junior." Viro's head shook slowly, bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose in frustration. "We should count ourselves lucky that it is not you that sits on the throne of our people."

The other children watched the prince with judging eyes, whispers and jeers spoken in hushed tones.

"To think that is the brother of Lord Wrath and the Ember of Death." Out of all the things his teacher had said today, those words had struck deepest.

They are right, every word is without flaw. Galliard could only ever dream of being in the same league as his siblings. In a couple of decades, they have paved their way to success and fame faster than a diamond boar could dig a cave. They were natural-born prodigies, exceeding even the strength of their elders.

They demand respect through their presence alone. They ooze authority and walk with their heads held high. Galliard, on the other hand, does not. The only time he gets even an ounce of real respect is when his siblings are present, but the minute they leave he is teased and taunted.

"I'm trying my best…" His broken whisper is for himself only, but the words carry to the irate man before him.

"Your best?" Viro bellows, the shout turning into a tired laugh. "If this is your best I would hate to see your worst."

The prince of Wrath slumps his head and shoulders fighting back the urge to cry. They already think of him as weak, to cry in front of them would be to dig his own grave.

The man looks ready for another round of admonishment before he pauses suddenly. His eyes flash for a moment before he sighs, annoyed. He glares at his students as if they had all personally offended him. He brings his hands together, the sound vibrating through the air like a thunderclap, causing many of the children around him to flinch.

"Class is dismissed." The instructor suddenly announces, looking Galliard up and down before walking away from him.

Galliard waits for everyone to disappear then picks himself up off the ground. Dusting his hands on his pants. A shuddering breath rushes out of him as he tries to compose himself. Had his mother been here she would have told him that everyone grows at their own rate and he will get there when he gets there.

His mother was always good at calming him down and making him feel like he was just as important as his siblings. Regardless of what everyone around him thought. Now, however, she is gone and he must fend for himself.

Gabriella has tried to fill the hole left by their mother's passing, but even if they shared the same face, the warm feeling that came with his mother's embrace was missing. His sister adored him, he knew that in his heart, but nothing would replace the feeling of his mother's love. Besides, with her being so busy with the matters of the Ember Region she was hardly ever around. Galliard could not visit her either, mostly because no one there knew that he even existed. Perhaps if he disguised himself, how difficult could it be to hide from mortals?

The weight of that reality pushed him deeper into a dark place that he feared he would not be able to escape from. To stop himself from sinking, the young Prince has been trying to build a friendship with his brother. Yet their father made certain that it would be impossible to do so. He knows well of the resentment Wrath harbours towards him for how lenient their father treated Galliard compared to him. As much as the young prince yearns to mend what is broken between them. Gilliard truly did not know what to do to fix the ever growing gap.

"What is wrong little Galli," Aunt Trisha comes from behind, startling him by rustling his hair. "Why so gloomy on such a fine day?"

"Aunt Trisha, why have you come here?" Galliard asks, shocked but not unhappy to see the woman.

"I received word that you visited my home when I was absent," She smiles at her youngest nephew. "So I thought I might as well take a trip to see you."

"That's great, I was saddened when you didn't join us." Galliard admits freely and sincerely.

"As well as I," Trisha nods, stopping her abuse of his locks. "Now tell me, what has your face looking like a mandrake?"

Galliard keeps quiet, not sure if he wants to trouble his aunt with his worries. Besides, to do so would be to bring attention to the fact that he does not know what he is doing to yet another person. Though, he thought, it was very unlikely that she did not already know that.

"I feel like such a disappointment… look at me," Galliard spoke, waving his hands up and down his body, the bruises he had gained from training already fading from his arms. "By my age Wrath and Gabriella were already a part of the Black Blades."

"They have been doing it a lot longer than you have been alive," His aunt pointed out gently."You are much too hard on yourself, little Galli."

"It's not just me, everyone else thinks I'm a failure as well." Galliard grits his teeth in frustration. "To quote, "You are a disappointment to your family's name." and not just a few."

"They just do not see your hidden potential." She argues then, a look of mischief enters her eyes, missed by Gilliard. "And I bet it's that brother of yours that's the hardest on you."

He says nothing at first as they walk in silence as his last few in the castle race through his mind. Before he'd been introduced to the clans he had only known of his siblings. But had rarely ever seen them. Gabriella came around a lot more often than Wrath did. Even when his brother did appear the atmosphere in their little cabin was strained. He didn't exactly know what had gone on between his brother and father, only that the rift had never healed. The only person he would fully open up to was their mother. But she'd always had that way about her, it must have been her time dealing with mortals.

"To be fair he never really liked me to begin with." Galliard mumbles under his breath, the admission stung him far more than he would have liked.

"I sensed that as well," She sighs, exaggerated and prolonged. "It must be so draining being around someone that does not wish you there."

"It can be at times…" Galliard acknowledges, kicking a small part of the stone path they'd been walking on, the stone coming undone at the force.

"Even if you're not wanted here you'll always be wanted by us." His aunt spoke sweetly, hugging him with one arm. "If you were under our care we'd never let you feel so unloved."

Alarm bells start to go off in the prince's head. He knew what she was doing, having seen it from his cousins not long ago. Even as the words she spoke were coated in honey he knew of the venom that hid below the surface. The clans might think he was lacking as a warrior, but for him to side with his cousins…

No, the clans were sure to take that as a sign of his brother's inability to control those in his household. If he could not lord over even his own house how could he rule over the others?

The young prince's back stiffens immediately at the thought. He could not believe his aunt had come here to use him as a pawn in her ill-advised scrabble for power. Unwilling to allow his thoughts to reach his face he smiled at his kin with as much sincerity as he could muster.

"You are probably right," He forces out, inwardly furious that she targeted him thinking that he would be so easy to sway. "As much as I would like to chat, I have another class I must get to, but I'm sure my brother and sister are somewhere around here."

"Oh that's quite alright young one," Tisha waves the suggestion away, confirming his suspicions in his eyes. "It is getting pretty late and I should head back."

"I would accompany you out but I am already late as it is." He bows to her so she does not suspect anything, even though the gesture of respect burned him to do.

She faded away with a too sweet smile, back to her closer kin no doubt. He watched as she returned to wherever she'd been hiding. The fact she had hidden away while her sister confronted her lord had not escaped him. Was she so craven that she would leave her family to face him alone? Or perhaps, she was there all along and chose not to be seen…

"Cacilia." He calls out to the Sentinel of Wrath assigned to him a moment, eyes scanning to make sure his aunt was truly gone. "You must inform Wrath of this at once."

The sentinel did not speak at the command, but he knows she heard him as he feels her presence disappear from the area. A sigh left his lips as he turned to head to his next lesson for the day. He would not become stronger lazing about after all.

Rizal nods to himself, unseen as he was, leaning against the battlements that line the walls that protect the home of his lord. The man in question sighs, looking out towards the setting sun. The normally blistering heat of the shattered isles abated somewhat as the typically golden light of Xal dimmed to violet over the horizon.

The Lord Commander of the Sentinels shifts uncomfortably at the sound of his liege's displeasure, moving his war scythe from hand to hand in agitation. He knew, better than most, of his ruler's habits and moods. That the younger Lord was squandering his time eyeing the sunset and not doing something productive spoke to his current mood more than anything.

"Lord Commander." The Lord of Wrath spoke, turning to the man as he spoke.

"My lord?" The man nods, fading into view.

"What say you of your sentinels, now that so many have fallen?" The question causes Rizal to grimace, hidden as it is beneath his helm.

"We…" The man pauses for a moment, his fist clenching."We lost many of our orders in the battle that claimed your lord father my Lord."

"Indeed." The Lord of Wrath nods for him to continue.

"Many of our best fell protecting him, even more, to reclaim his body when the Fang slayed him." He admits bitterly, the words as ash on his lips. "Those that remain…a good number of them are young my lord and our numbers have not yet recovered."

"So there are not enough of you to properly do your duty." The lord of one thousand taps an armoured finger against the stone that lay before him absently as he took in the words.

"We will do our utmost to continue our vigil," The lord commander speaks, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "But I fear the loss of so many veteran warriors has crippled our defences."

"Just another thing to deal with." The younger man grunts, glancing to the side as another Sentinel makes her way towards them.

Cacilia, a newer addition to the order, salutes her superiors as she comes to a stop. Her free hand snaps to her breastplate, fist inwards against her heart, the armour protecting her torso clicking as her gauntlet's knuckles struck it.

"My lords, I've been tasked with relaying a message to you." She came closer as her Lord bids her to do so, leaning to whisper into his ear for a moment.

"...Thank you for your report, return to your duties sentinel." The Lord of Wrath speaks after a moment of consideration.

The young woman bows slightly to the two lords before disappearing from sight, off to continue her assignment once more.

"Not overly surprising." The Lord of one thousand speaks after a beat of silence, causing the other man to chuckle mirthlessly.

"As you say, your majesty." He smiles bitterly at his ruler's reaction to the news.

"What do you think of her?" Wrath asks the sentinel lord, curious.

The older lord hums to himself for some time, thinking of what he knew of the girl.

"She's…rather formal, does not socialise much with the others, but she is a hard worker and has already shown she can lead others." He nods, pleased with his assessment of the woman.

"Careful, praise her too much and she may take your command one day." The other man jests, snorting.

The Lord Commander of the sentinels is silent for a second before he bursts out laughing. It is a deep, chest-rumbling sound that seems to bounce off the walls. He takes a moment to compose himself, a smirk on his lips.

"Well, if she wants it she will have to work hard for it, but I think she's got a ways to go before then." Rizal shakes his head at the thought, imagining the woman's aloof front cracking if she were to hear the words.

"I'll need more like her, and you, if I'm to secure my rule." The high lord spoke up, wiping Rizal's mirth from existence.

The older man sighs at the thought, thinking of the recruits under his charge. They were mostly teens at this point, young and unblooded. The previous batch, like Cacilia's group, having been pushed into service to recover losses.

"Looks like you've got many late nights ahead of you, old friend." Lord Wrath laughs at the man's sullen look.

"So it would seem, old friend." He draws out in frustration.