Chapter 48
The afternoon sun was warm on the training grounds of the Motomato Clan.
In a quiet corner under an old, wide tree, two boys sat on a stone bench.
They had finished their hard training for the day.
Austin stretched, his arms over his head. "That Elder's new training is trying to kill us. My mana feels like it's been rubbed with sand."
Blake, only ten but very serious, took a drink from his water skin. "You complain, but you lasted twenty minutes longer than last week. The training is working."
"Don't remind me," Austin groaned.
He leaned back against the tree. "Your training is going scary well, though. Father almost choked on his tea when he saw what you did last week."
A small, proud smile touched Blake's lips. "It's just using what I know. My Clover Eyes make things clearer."
"Clearer, he says," Austin laughed. "You make the rest of us look like we're playing in the dark."
They sat quietly for a moment, watching little kids from the clan chase glowing fireflies in the garden nearby. It was nice to talk about normal things for once.
"Did you try those new spicy noodles in the market?" Austin asked, playing with a blade of grass.
"Too much fire-pepper," Blake said, making a face. "It felt like a fire was in my stomach. The dumpling stall three down is better. The broth has star-anise."
"That's a bold opinion. That noodle man's fire-pepper is famous. You just have soft taste buds."
"My taste is refined," Blake said, pretending to be snobby. "It likes subtle flavors. Unlike yours, which likes to be attacked."
Austin laughed. "Fair. Remember when we tried to make our own pepper mana crystals? When we were eight and three?"
"A complete disaster," Blake said flatly. "We stunk up the whole east wing. Mom was sneezing for days. The crystals just soaked up the smell and became stinky paperweights."
"Your dad made us clean the air runes for a month," Austin said, grinning. "Best punishment ever. We learned more about air runes that month than in two years of class."
They talked about easy things—which oil was best for swords (Austin liked wolf-grease, Blake liked clear tree sap), and which animal was better for an earth cultivator: a tough badger or a clever cloud-fox.
"The badger is useful!" Austin said. "It can dig, it's tough, its hide is like armor—"
"The cloud-fox is smart and fast and can go through earth walls," Blake argued. "It's about skill, not just strength."
"Strength wins fights!"
"Skill wins wars!"
They were stuck arguing, like always, when a soft baby sound made them stop.
A woman from the clan walked over, holding a little bundle wrapped in a blue blanket with tiny clovers on it.
"Austin, Young Master Blake," she said with a small bow. "The Little Master was fussy. His mother thought fresh air and your voices might help."
In her arms was Blake's baby brother, Kael.
He was one year old, with a tuft of black hair and a serious look that was exactly like Blake's.
He had one fist in his mouth.
"Ah, the next expert on 'skill over strength,'" Austin said, his voice softer. He leaned in and made a silly face. The baby stared, unimpressed, and made a bubbling sound around his fist.
Blake's whole face changed. All the seriousness melted away. He held out his hands. "Can I?"
The woman gently put the baby in Blake's arms. Blake held him carefully, supporting his head in a way that was gentle and sure—very different from how he held his daggers.
"Hello, Kael," Blake whispered. "Making trouble?"
Kael gurgled and reached up to pat Blake's chin. He seemed to love his big brother's face.
Austin watched with a soft smile. Seeing the serious, talented Blake turn into a gentle big brother was something he loved. "He's bigger. And he has your serious face already. It's weird."
"He pays attention," Blake said, not looking away from Kael, who was now trying to grab Blake's hair. "That's good."
"Here," Austin said, reaching into a small bag. He pulled out a smooth stone he'd been putting a tiny, safe spark of fire into. It glowed with a soft blue light. He gave it to Kael. "For your future collection. A starter fire-stone. Much less spicy than noodles."
Kael's eyes locked on the glowing stone. He let go of Blake's hair and reached for it. Blake helped his little hand close around it. Kael held it, watching the gentle pulse of light, feeling its warmth. A big, toothless smile spread across his face.
"There!" Austin said happily. "A smile! Write that down for the clan records: 'Today, Kael smiled because of a cool rock from his brother's friend, not from boring brother talk.'"
Blake gave him a look, but he was smiling. "Your help is noted. And will be ignored when they write about my long, loving bond with him."
He looked back at Kael, who was looking between the stone and Blake's face. "See? He knows quality."
They sat under the tree for a while longer.
No talk of war, no politics, no training.
Just the sounds of the garden, Austin's quiet jokes, Blake's soft words to his brother, and Kael's happy baby noises as he waved the glowing stone.
It was a simple, ordinary afternoon.
A tiny break in their complicated lives—a big brother holding his baby brother, a friend making a joke, and a future that, for this one moment, only asked for a baby's smile.
The clan records would probably just say, "Austin and Blake spent time with Kael in the garden." But for them, it was much more than that.