CHAPTER 19: CHAPTER 19 - THE BROTHERS IN SHADOW.

The Rugarda Great Forest.

It was a forest as vast as a kingdom, situated between the human and demihuman domains.

It was the forest Kael had found himself in when he woke up.

South of the forest was the human domain, and north was the demihuman domain. East and west were the Rolar and Kolar Oceans.

This forest was like an island that connected the human and demihuman domains, filled with ferocious beasts.

On the human side, there were three cities located at the border of the forest, Veldera being one of them.

However, Veldera wasn’t a big city with any trade route that led to the demihuman empire.

Veldera was a city that, unlike the other two cities, which had a forest only on their northern front, was surrounded by the forest on three sides, leaving only the southern end leading to the human domain.

It was deep in the forest, and that was why the people in this city could enter and leave the forest without being detected.

This city was called the human domain’s Achilles’ heel—some even called it the forsaken city, as there were fewer than fifty well-trained soldiers stationed here.

Even those fifty were only there for the protection of the city lord and to help the city lord escape in case the city was raided by beasts, which was a frequent event.

However, even if the city is called Achilles’ heel, one wouldn’t win if they merely conquered the city.

Because right beside the city, there were two highly fortified cities with a battalion of soldiers stationed in each.

To make things worse for the people who had conquered the city of Veldera, assuming they had gained entry to the Rozenmore Kingdom, there was the city of Baneron, where Marquess Baneron lived, south of Veldera.

Marquess Baneron was the real wall of the Ronzenmore Kingdom.

If the attackers then thought of retreating, they would have to face the two battalions that would be headed toward them from the other two cities bordering Veldera.

Those two cities, like Veldera, were lorded by the sons of Marquess Baneron.

The only difference was that those two sons were worthy of being called the sons of Marquess Baneron.

Now, as the evening sun cast an orange hue on both cities, their lords, who had heard about the news of their youngest sibling’s death, were wondering what they should do.

.................................

The colorless-blue communication sphere lay atop the velvet-cloaked table, silent and dull—until it pulsed once with a soft hum and a slow, rhythmic glow.

A pale-blue shimmer washed over the room as the device activated.

In Ralanor City, the city west of Veldera, deep within a towering manor of obsidian stone and stained-glass windows, Arren Baneron lounged in a sprawling study.

Walls of ancient tomes rose behind him like jagged cliffs. The man himself looked carved from noble pride—his long, blue hair tied into a low knot, matching the cold glint of his ice-blue eyes, which never missed a detail.

He sat with a wine glass between two fingers, the stem barely held, as if the act of gripping it too tightly offended him.

The glow from the communication sphere brightened.

"Finally," Arren drawled, swirling the dark red liquid within his glass. "I thought you’d keep me waiting again, Vaelen."

Miles away, in Marinara, the easternmost city at the border of the kingdom, in the city lord’s chamber lined with weapons and relics of old conquests, Vaelen Baneron sat cross-legged.

A man of broad shoulders and sharper smirks, his scarlet-red hair tumbled lazily over one eye, and his blue eyes—a rare trait the three brothers shared—gleamed with amused disdain.

He rested his chin on one hand, elbow on the armrest, the communication sphere casting faint reflections in his eyes.

"I was just making sure it wasn’t one of your usual dramatics," Vaelen said. "You do love your entrances, after all."

"Spare me," Arren replied dryly. "You got the same report, didn’t you?"

Vaelen leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring into the orb as though it were his brother’s face.

"So... the runt’s really dead."

There was no sadness in his tone—no hesitation or sigh.

Just curiosity.

Arren raised his glass. "Renvir. The family stain. Dead in some unnamed gutter of that nameless city."

A brief pause.

Then a shrug.

"I can’t say I’m shocked," Vaelen said. "But I am curious. I thought he’d at least last long enough to die of shame."

"Mm. Reports said he was crushed like a grape... literally." Arren’s voice was cool, almost amused. "The entire street was filled with red stains. They say the soldiers with him... didn’t even get the chance to scream."

A low whistle left Vaelen’s lips. "Brutal."

Another sip of wine. Arren stared into the glass. "Some say it was a monster. Others say a demihuman. The smarter ones are already whispering about it being a beast in human form."

"A beast in human form?" Vaelen scoffed, shaking his head. "That city doesn’t even have a functioning trade route, let alone something a beast that powerful would want."

"And yet," Arren said, "someone killed him."

A long silence passed between them, wordless and contemplative.

Then Vaelen’s smile returned, lazy and dangerous. "Shouldn’t we be sad about our youngest brother’s death?"

Arren chuckled softly. "Were you? Ever?"

"Nope," Vaelen said without a pause. "You?"

Arren sipped. "He was incompetent. Always groveling. Always afraid. Father gave him that backwater city for a reason."

"No strategic value. No roadways. No power. Just a corpse pile of wasted potential."

"And then he went and started enslaving demihumans," Arren added, tone finally edging into disdain. "Sure, they were criminals, and yes, the demihuman empire won’t be able to do anything because of the treaty. But it had always been a risky move."

"Do you think it was someone from the demihuman empire?" Vaelen asked, now swirling the orb in his fingers.

"I thought about that," Arren said, resting his cheek against his knuckles. "But I don’t think it was them. The feats I have been hearing about this killer of our brother—it shouldn’t be someone weak, and they won’t send someone strong as long as the treaty stands."

"Yes, the demis care more about the treaty than us humans, anyway," Vaelen hummed, rubbing his chin. "So... a rogue? Or an assassin unaffiliated?"

"Possibly. Or someone new altogether," Arren murmured. "One thing’s certain. We can’t point fingers yet. Not without proof."

The flickering blue light danced between them, casting long shadows across their respective chambers.

Vaelen stood and walked toward his weapons rack, fingers running across the hilts of enchanted blades.

"Should we tell Father?"

Arren’s lips twitched. "Why bother?"

Vaelen arched his brow.

"If we solve this ourselves," Arren continued smoothly, "Father might finally stop seeing us as vultures circling his position. He’s a sentimental old man. Solve a problem before he hears about it... and we look like dutiful sons."

A quiet pause followed.

Then, Vaelen grinned. "I like that."

Arren raised his glass again, smirking. "Let’s see who finds this ’killer’ first."

"Careful," Vaelen said. "Wouldn’t want you tripping over your robe again."

"And I wouldn’t want you cutting yourself with your own sword again."

"Touché."

Then, in perfect unison: "May the better brother win."

With that, the communication sphere dimmed, its soft hum silencing as the link broke.

******

In Arren’s study, he set his glass down and turned toward the window, where moonlight bathed the library in silver.

His fingers tapped against the glass.

"Whoever you are..."

His voice dropped lower.

"I’m going to find you by tomorrow."

A faint, chilling smile curved his lips.

"Because I don’t intend to be second to anyone. Not even you, Vaelen."

******

In Vaelen’s war chamber, he strapped a sword to his hip, grabbed a cloak from the hook, and began to walk toward the door.

"You should’ve stayed alive a bit longer, brother," he muttered, voice low and taunting. "Now I have to do your cleanup."

Then he smiled, sharp and cold.

"But I’ll take the glory."

Both brothers, miles apart, were preparing for the same thing.

Both whispering the same words:

"I’ll be going ahead of you, brother. Can’t let you take the credit for this job."

.................................

Far from both of them, in Veldera, Kael, the dragon who was the cause of everything, sneezed.

"Excuse me," he raised a brow, leaning back on the sofa.

The next second—

"My lord," Evethra, his new vampire maid, stepped forward, her head bowed. "Would you like something warm to drink?"

Kael raised a brow as Rue and Rina, who were still on his lap, stared at Evethra, who was now wearing a maid’s dress, in awe.

"Whoa..." Rue leaned forward. "Is this what being a maid is like?"

"..." Rina merely clutched Kael’s shirt tighter.

Kael, however, raised his brow at Evethra as he saw respect and reverence in her eyes.

Then, he shook his head. "No, I’m fine."

Then, as he glanced out of the window, he tilted his head. "Is it evening already?"

"Yes, my lord," Evethra replied.

Kael hummed, stretching with Rue and Rina still on his lap before he stood up with them in his arms. "Alenia and Lyra should be done with what I asked them to do, so I guess it’s time for me to do my part."

With that, unaware of the changes his actions had already made, the dragon started walking toward the door.

Despite still wanting to rest, he moved, as there were more important things to be done.