PHYV
ARE YOU TRULY READY to go back to the human world so soon?” Greyce asks. She sits next to me on the chaise and puts a small cup of herbal tea in my hands.
Something about the human world always made me feel so incomplete, here I am finding my place and somewhat enjoying it. But to have it interrupted by going back to the Mortal Lands so soon was not planned, I knew I would go back at some point in time, not within the matter of weeks. Nevertheless, if it means finding others who are like us and crave to return home, I am willing to go back.
“I do not mind going back if I can bring the other three out there relief by coming home.”
“And the people of the Realm of the Banshees and Realm of the Vampires, I think about them often and how they are able to live in a world amongst humans.”
“It will be good for Nyt and Salem to return home for some time?” Greyce says as more of a question than statement.
“I do not know,” I say as Nyt rests his head on my lap. “He seems to love it here, the food does both Salem and Nyt well. They are getting more nutrients from the meat here, the water is much cleaner, and they take well to everyone they are around.”
“Although Morano has a favorite,” Levora chuckles as Salem cuddles into Greyce.
“Give it time, I am sure a moment will come that they grow to like each other.”
“When will we attempt to cross the portal?” I ask. “We all have varying schedules and I’m uncertain if we can find the right timing to attempt crossing.”
“Nights work best for me, unfortunately. I would much rather cross during the day, although my schedule will not allow it.”
“Same for us,” Levora waves a hand between her and I. “As long as we are together we should cross just fine.”
“There is one thing I do miss about the human world and it is that damn pizza and pasta.”
“Yes!” Vora gasps as she agrees with her. “We must figure out a way to make that here, I know it must be possible.”
“Honey, if I can make jam I can make sauce, it is possible.” Greyce winks.
“Phyv, Vora,” Amias says from the door of the drawing room. “Hello Greyce,” he nods to her in greeting. “We are ready for you both on the Training Grounds.”
“Thank you, we will be there shortly.” Levora says before Amias leaves. “Do not go yet,” she tells Greyce, “stay with Salem and Nyt and we will be back for supper.”
“No running rampant around the palace today for you two.” I say over my shoulder as both Levora and I leave.
* * *
Levora is on the Training Grounds first, she is training with Hua in the Archery Unit far in the distance. Closer is the large development for experts in the Sword Unit, where Laven and Roaner are. Laven’s movements are sharp and precise, just on the verge of murder but not exactly pursuing a kill. For someone of Laven’s size, he is agile and quick—he is much thicker in body and well shaped, though not as chiseled as Roaner, who is lean and large, but not as large as his brother. Their skin has darkened under the beat of the sun, Roaner has now taken on a much more brown complexion as Laven’s already brown skin has turned dark. From afar, I can see the faint scars that sit all over his back and discomfort grows the longer I look at them.
The tattoos along the length of the right side of their bodies are identical: a Wolf sigil formed by the initials L, A, R, and M. That is their brotherhood tattoo.
I narrow in, as if in slow motion, I watch the sharp edge of Laven’s pristine sword nearly take to Roaner’s neck, as he leans to dodge it. Laven sweeps his hand down, knocking Roaner’s sword from his hand. Then, his forearm forces forward and a light blue hue projects and a force field rushes Roaner’s body across the field they practice on.
“No cheating,” Roaner coughs through the pain as he sits up from the dirt paved ground.
Laven turns toward me and I shake my head. “No.”
Laven laughs and approaches me as Roaner leaves to go where Vora and Hua are. He grabs his black undershirt from the ground and tosses it over his shoulder.
“Who trained you?” I ask as he signals for me to follow him.
“My father and mother both. As well as Axynth, Amias’s father.”
“How long have you been a Warrior?”
“Interesting enough, not long. A considerable amount of years, not nearly as long as Amias. I did not become a Warrior . . . well,” he stops and corrects his words. “I was not considered a Warrior until after I led the second war against New Quamfasi.”
At his current age he would have been newly seven and ten at that time. “You led that war?”
“I did and I did not have fun doing it. Lorsius used to say that the reason I conceded so quickly in that war was because I did not want to participate in it. We were getting our asses handed to us and I had no choice but to put the war to end, sign a treaty in Lorsius’s name and leave the war where it was.”
The further we walk down, the closer we get to the Archery Unit and an arrow clumsily shot by Vora makes its way toward me and Laven. All too smoothly, Laven pivots and catches the arrow soaring by.
“Sorry!” Vora holds up a hand with a wary expression and Laven cannot help but to laugh as he tosses the arrow back into the square of the Archery Unit.
“You led a war as a practical High King when only a High Prince?”
“Want to know something hilarious?” He chuckles. “I was not even a High Prince yet. Just the nephew to a High King.”
Lorsius began a war he did not fight in. How many more Leaders must Voschantai Universe see like him?
“Now you are High King.”
“That I am.” He simpers.
“Laven!” A little girl beams from the Hand to Hand Combat Unit. She is jumping up and down with her small hands waving over her head.
“Hi again Lilyana,” Laven grins as we continue to walk through the Training Grounds.
“Have you grown used to hearing that yet? Being called a High King.”
“The longer I ponder on that question, I realize I have the same answer forming.”
“And that is?” I say over the veering sounds of spears letting loose across the Spears Unit.
“Even when Lorsius was alive, when was I not a King? When was I not fulfilling duties that belong to a King? Unfortunately, as much as I did not want it, I was bred for this role given my family’s history of leading all their lives—it is in my blood to lead as it is in my sisters. My father used to call me the brown duckling among white swans. I was the first of our family to openly admit to not wanting to be a Leader.”
It is odd to hear someone say they did not wish to be in a royal line of some sort. Royalty gives you an automatic form of wealth in every aspect of life. People kill for this, yet Laven wanted to run from it.
“I always knew I would lead, but that did not mean I wanted to.”
When we reach the large premises for the headquarters of the Training Grounds we sit on the wide steps stretching across the establishment.
“And now? Do you still want to lead?”
He looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “There is more at stake now. I have a large family that I hope to grow, I have important people in my life to provide for and all of those people rely on my placement to continue in the royal line so they are secure in life.”
As I recall the stories of Roaner and Morano specifically, I know that without Laven they would not be where they are now, if anything, their beginnings sounded like outcomes for death.
“It is my duty to carry on for my family, either I enjoy where I am or not.”
“You make me see royalty in a way I have never imagined.”
He turns to watch all of the people training in the units yards ahead of us. “Because I am living a royal life not as people imagine it to be. When people think of royalty they see crowns and gold and luxurious clothing and twelve-foot tables full of food. When we see chains and poverty and slavery and famine—this does not mean that the people do not also see this, but they see what we see in a much different light because they are living it. While we are monitoring it and coveting to solve it. Two very opposite sides, yet both on the same side.
“You see what we allow you to see. It is important you know these things before you are properly presented a position in House Arvenaldi. It is not easy here, war will rage, deception and propaganda are important and you must be good at it, and strength is needed in every area. We thrive on brotherhood and sisterhood. Family, blood or found, is to kill for and we protect each other’s mates and spouses as if they are our own. If you fall, one of us will be there to aid you and you must reciprocate it. Then, and only then, will you be a suitable fit.”
“If I am honest, this is a placement I never even dreamed I would have. I always sought a way to just get by. Having so much handed to me makes me want to work for it since that is all I have known.”
“Never unknow it. Always know what it means to be diligent. This war will call for nothing less now, during, and most importantly after, when for months on end there is nothing but rebuilding and depression.”
The aftermath of war is what many Warriors have said is the worst. Searching for your family or companions, turning over multiple dead bodies in hopes that it is not someone you love dearly.
“As I study the people around me and the multitudes of abilities they have, it was easy to add together that Yaro is starting a war in the age of some of the strongest people this universe has known. He wants more than to just rule all the lands–”
“He wants to rule the strongest people in all realms.” Laven finishes. “As long as I am living, High King or not, he will never know what it feels like to rule me nor anyone of our world.”
I look at him as he still stares out at the people ardently training to fight for this realm.
“Forever may you reign, Laven.”
