7 — Brothers

Corvain landed atop the tower with a crash of wind. The bricks shuddered beneath the impact, loose stones pattered down the walls. Ricard unstrapped himself and hopped off the saddle, giving the crow a few firm pats in acknowledgement.

Corvain answered in a low croak.

Ricard tossed him a chunk of bloody venison he pulled from his satchel. The crow caught it midair and swallowed it whole with a pleased croak. 

“It was a long journey, friend. May we have another soon,” Ricard said warmly, then turned, “Oh! Fuck’s sake, Cassian!”

Cassian stood silently. 

Ricard exhaled, collecting himself. “You are home, you understand that? No need to be sneaking about like that.”

”I just wanted to see you.”

“Well you can see me like a normal person,” Ricard snapped, then he slowly softened, “Is something wrong, Cas?”

Cassian stood silent, almost puzzled, his mind struggling to find the words.

”Cas,” Ricard said again, softer now. “I’m not our father, or Raziel. You can talk to me.” He watched his little brother struggle for an answer. “What have they done to you while I was away?” 

“It has been a while since we talked,” Cassian finally said.

Ricard let out a hollow chuckle. “Yes it has. Father has been busy of late, meaning I have been busy running his errands.” His expression changed. “You are not the same.”

Cassian looked blankly in response. 

“I don’t know what father is training you so harshly for, but I feel you slipping away, brother. You are not the same pup you were when we went to Silver Crest.”

”I am doing what is expected of me. I am earning my place among you,” Cassian replied flatly. 

“No,” Ricard argued, “they are taking something from you. But I am not in any place to oppose father’s intentions. Nor do I want to know what they are. However, it does hurt me to see you like this, little brother.”

”I miss you—” Cassian blurted out, his eyes widened slightly. 

Ricard walked closer and placed his hand on his little brother’s head. A flat smile stretched on his face briefly. “I miss you too, Cas.”

Cassian froze. 

“Come here,” Ricard said, smiling. He wrapped his arm around Cassian’s neck and brought him to the parapet. 

Corvain stirred softly behind them. His feathers puffed up as he sunk down on his legs. 

“What do you want, Cas? I’m not talking about duty anymore, but instead what you, yourself desire. What do you dream of?” Ricard asked as they both looked out to the plains below.

Cassian opened his mouth to answer. Then slowly it closed, searching his mind. His eyes wandered out to the tall grass swaying in the wind. “I don't know…”

Ricard’s smile faded. 

“I never thought about that,” Cassian added. 

“Let’s think about it now,” Ricard said, “anything you can imagine. What do you want most? …adventure? …fame? …food?” 

Cassian searched his mind once again. 

“I don’t know.”

”You should,” Ricard objected. 

“Why?”

”Because one day you will realize you spent your whole life chasing someone else’s dream,” Ricard said with a bitterness in his voice. He added, “One day you’ll see…”

Cassian remained silent, just following Ricard’s gaze into the horizon. 

“I want to be free.”

Cassian furrowed his brows at Ricard’s words.

”I want us to live like the others do. Without all the secrets and plots. I wanted to be raised as a leader. I want to be able to see the people and talk openly with them. Negotiate trades and treaties with other lords, instead of orchestrating them,” Ricard said, the day dream warmed his expression. “This is what we are burdened with. But it does not stop me from having my dreams.”

They sat quietly for a moment. 

“Do you know what I fear the most?” Ricard said suddenly. 

Cassian shook his head.

”The day father dies.”

”Everyone dies one day,” Cassian added.

”That’s not what I mean,” Ricard said, resting his arms on the parapet, “When he dies, all of this becomes mine. And I’m not sure how to rule a duchy my heart doesn’t follow.”

”Do what father would,” Cassian said.

Ricard laughed, a sadness lurked beneath it. “That’s what frightens me, Cas.”

”Do you fear becoming like father?” Cassian asked.

”No. I fear I do not have the heart for it like he does,” Ricard replied, “One day I would be forced to choose between father’s legacy and what I believe.”

”Change is not always wrong,” Cassian said.

“Tell father that,” Ricard retorted then let out a long sigh. “I admire you, Cas.”

“Why?”

”You are free. You could leave if you wished,” Ricard said.

Something shook inside Cassian. 

“No, I am not. I am nothing if not a crow.”

Ricard looked to his brother. “I wish you could see yourself like I see you.”

”I envy you as well,” Cassian admitted, “you have everything. Father gives you everything. The way people look at you, it is so warm. When they see me they just see a monster.”

”Cas…” Ricard said, his eyes loomed with pity as he put his hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “You are my brother. If anyone makes you feel as if you are not one of us, I will have them hanged.”

”What if it’s father?” 

Ricard froze, his jaw tightened as he let go of Cassian’s shoulder and looked down at the plains. “Father loves you.”

”He has a strange way of showing it—“

”Then fuck father. I love you,” Ricard snapped.

Cassian looked away. His throat felt tight as his eyes warmed. He tried to mask his shaking lip. “You do?” 

“Of course I do, idiot.”

The words settled deep inside him as he looked into the horizon. The plains blurred. He wasn’t sure why. He ran his forearm across his eyes as his nose felt wet.

Neither of them spoke. The wind howled through the grasslands below with Corvain’s deep humming behind them. The crow shifted and tucked his head beneath his wing.

Ricard’s hand clutched at his neck, then he pointed out. “That’s the world, Cas. Greykeep is not everything…but instead it is out there. There are people out there who do not know your name. They do not care if you are a bastard or crow.” 

Ricard’s smile returned.

”People who would love you for who you are.”

”What if I don’t find them?” Cassian asked.

“Then, we will keep looking. Together.”

For the first time in a long time, Cassian felt his lips curve up.

“There we are,” Ricard laughed, “finally I’m starting to recognize you.”

Cassian failed to hold back a chuckle at Ricard’s remark. He let his brother wrap an arm around him. It felt strange at first, but he soon warmed to the idea of his brother’s embrace.

Corvain shifted. His head poked out of his feathers and peered past them toward the gate. The bird chirped, rustling its feathers.

Cassian’s head snapped up.

“What is it, Corvain?” Ricard followed the bird’s gaze. 

A horse ran in full gallop despite the steep climb up to Greykeep, foam dripping from its mouth. The rider drove his heels relentlessly into the horse, a hand on tight reins, the other waving frantically. 

“What the hell?” Ricard muttered as he leaned over the parapet with squinted eyes. “He is pushing that horse too hard.”

Cassian followed Ricard’s gaze. The rider stood in the stirrups and shouted, even long before they would be able to hear him. 

Ricard’s expression darkened. 

“Something is wrong.”

Guards moved on the battlements, torches in hand, they waved and shouted to open the gates. Bells tolled, waking the castle. 

“Come on,” Ricard urged as he made for the tower stairs, Cassian in tow.

With swift steps, they scaled down the tower. The occasional window revealed the situation in small moments.

The gates groaned open, with guards rushing the courtyard.

Hooves on cobblestone echoed first, then passing a window, Cassian saw the rider enter the courtyard, falling off the horse.

“Speak to me! What happened?” Becker yelled from outside.

The brothers reached the bottom and ran up to the scene.

Cassian noticed the rider’s hands were red from the ride, and his clothes were blackened by soot. The side of the horse bore a bloody handprint smeared down the flank. The smell of smoke still reeked off him.

Ricard’s expression hardened.

The shaken man stuttered, attempting to speak without breath. 

“Get the man some water. Now!” Becker got down to one knee, level with the messenger’s gaze. “Collect yourself.”

”They…they killed them all…”

”Who?” Becker asked. 

Another soldier came rushing with a bucket of cold water and a ladle. He helped the messenger drink it.

“For god’s sake! Man the fucking walls and be on lookout for any more that might seek refuge here!” Officer Fedren shouted when he arrived. A hand on the hilt of his sword, he shouted orders around the courtyard, regaining control of the situation. 

The messenger swallowed multiple ladles of water, barely taking time to breathe in between. He looked up, finally, his breaths heavy. 

“Fetherton… It's in flames.”

“Fetherton?” Cassian repeated.

“Large men came from the sea…on ships that wore red sails.”

Captain Becker spat. “Red Cloaks.”

“Ingram…” Cassian muttered. 

“Th-they wielded jagged curved swords, I have never seen the like before!,” the man explained with bloodshot eyes, “They…killed everyone. M-my family. My wife… my children–”

The man burst into tears, whimpering loudly into his hands.

“So they have dared set foot in the Westfold…” Officer Fedren hissed, then to Becker he continued, “I will ride out with a patrol at once.”

“I will ride with you, Officer Fedren,” Ricard said. 

Fedren bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”

“Waste no time. Bring five of our best, and return as soon as you know their whereabouts. Do not make contact!” Becker barked at the end.

Fedren stomped his heels together and placed a fist over his heart. “Sir!”

The patrols doubled that night. Officer Fedren’s soldiers, along with Ricard, built outposts along the Westfold Plains for clearer border control. Crows were called from the dark and scattered across the duchy at Raziel’s command. Everywhere from Bergstad in the north to Silver Crest in the south. Orders were sent and Crow agents moved. 

As the moon reached its peak in the sky, Hetark sent for Cassian and Raziel to meet in the old atrium. 

Cassian climbed the final stair and stepped into the open night air. He looked up to see the moon gleaming down, the stone arches that surrounded him casting soft shadows on the polished floor. Though he could not see them, he heard the fluttering of wings echoing from small crevices in the stone formations. 

A single torchlight shimmered in the darkness. Two hooded figures turned to the sounds of his boots. 

”Good,” Hetark said as Cassian approached.

Cassian bowed. 

Hetark regarded it only for a moment, and then proceeded. “How many crows have heeded our call, Raziel?” 

“One hundred, my lord.” Raziel replied quietly. 

Hetark remained expressionless. 

“Then it has already begun.”

Cassian furrowed his brows. 

“You mean their loyalty has been lost?” 

Hetark met his gaze. 

“It means we have been betrayed by our own,” Hetark simply stated.

Cassian clenched a fist. 

A short silence went over them.

”I will find them,” Cassian spoke softly. 

”No,” Hetark ordered, “those that do not heed my call may do as they please—“

”But father, they know too much—“

”I said no!” Hetark shouted. Then he regained himself with an exhale, “I dragged them into this life. I gave them purpose. I gave them enemies. I gave them secrets that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. For years they served my empire. If they wish to be free, then let them.”

Cassian felt a twist in his chest, but he held his tongue.

“They may talk. Spread the word of our House. They might make it known that House Vaelthorne were responsible for all the plots and the killings,” Hetark said, his eyes distant. “I have expected this for some time.”

Raziel remained tall, unwavering. “Our allies will turn on us.”

“They will,” Hetark agreed solemnly, “The other dukes will see us as a threat. The crown will abandon us, cast us out. The Westfold will be left in the dark.”

“So,” Raziel started, “Red Cloaks invade our lands. Our Crows are exposed. We need to traverse this situation carefully.”

“The time for training is over,” Hetark spoke softly, “It is time we showed the world what true Vaelthorne power looks like.”

Air caught in Cassian’s throat. 

Hetark stepped closer.

Raziel shifted.

“Four hundred crows once answered my call across the four duchies. Dukes feared us. Enemies vanished before anyone could utter our name.” Hetark’s gaze hardened. “Now they abandon us.”

A cold smile touched his lips. 

“They will see weakness. But they are mistaken.”

Hetark looked deep into Cassian’s eyes, regarding him for a long moment. There was something that resembled pride in his eyes, but also something else. A sadness. Regret. 

“You are the last weapon House Vaelthorne possesses. My son. My blade. My crow.”

Cassian felt his pulse hammering in his throat. 

The torchlight flickered across Hetark’s face.

“I will unleash you upon our enemies. And they will rue the day they forced my hand.”

Cassian felt his father’s words clutch at his heart. Yet beneath the pride, Ricard’s words lingered.