Vlaus Veilkerhurst knew something had changed about his youngest. It was in how he now carried himself with resignation. He was still cautious around Brakus, unable to handle is targeted aggression. Yet he no longer showed terror whenever he shared space with the other boy. He had not followed his mother in days. It was a relief for his wife as she had no tolerance for his constant need for her affection. He no longer asked his sister about her day. It would appear that the youngest Veilkerhurst had finally stopped his nonsense advocacy for physical and emotional affection. That was not the way of the Bloody Veilkerhurst family. He should be content, knowing that the youngest had begun to adopt some self preservation.
Yet his sudden change in mannerism was too suspicious.
Vlaus Veilkerhurst thought about what had occured at the training grounds just a few days ago. It had been the first time in a while that he had watched over his youngest son as he carried out of the training grounds. He looked diminutive in the muscular arms of the soldier carrying him, his head lolling back as blood dribbled from his lips. It streamed towards his forehead, plopping to the ground in quick drips. He had lasted far longer than his past bouts with his second brother. Not only that, he had managed to land a few hits on Brakus. It was most likely the surprise of the attack that almost knocked the more experience boy off of his feet. Still, when it came to battle you must take advantage of every opportunity that was presented to you. Now if only the youngest was more bloodthirsty. He would have been able to make his second bleed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw said thirdborn glare balefully at the ground. Vlaus inwardly sighed. He was proud that his second son was formidable on the battlefield, yet he was still so open with his emotions. It was a trait he shared with the youngest. Something that he wanted him to outgrow. His wife has reassured him that his son's temperament would eventually become more mature as he aged. But he was a boy of fourteen. There was no reason to be so open with his dislike of his sibling.
Vlaus looked back at Brakus. Holding the title of being the second son of the Veilkerhurst held a prestige that many envied as well as a burden of needing to either match or surpass his eldest brother's shadow. He studied Brakus continue to watch his unconscious brother until he was gone. His hands were still clenched into fists. His mana sword dissipated as his father approach him. The children were never allowed to have their weapons drawn whenever their parents were close. Not unless they were ready to face them.
The only one to try was their eldest brother Reilard. It was how he managed to get his refuge at the mage's tower.
Vlaus did not say anything. He just waited as his son tried to take deep breaths, struggling to compose himself. The boy kept peering at the opening his brother disappeared to. He send a signal to the guards stationed them, prompting them to move and block that path. Brakus's shoulder slumped in defeat. Vlaus could just here his wife's sly commentary about him protecting his favorite. He could not deny that he saw himself in his second son. He saw the same thirst to subdue his enemies. The willingness to not only defeat them but, to make sure that they could not be a problem later. What he wanted was to weed out the desperation and the recklessness that Brakus would allow to overwhelm him. He would step in from time to time to guide him on the right path so as to nurture his potential.
"He manipulated my mana, sir." It was hard for Brakus to get the words out. His teeth was gritted so tight that one could hear them grinding together with each expulsion of the words.
Vlaus's expression barely change, his curiosity revealed with only the slightest rising of his brow.
"Are you telling me that you committed one of the most basics mistakes that would have gotten you killed on the battlefield? Being doubtful of your enemy?"
His inquiry made Brakus flinch. The child knew he was right. He has told him that no matter how weak your enemy would present themselves, they were still your enemy. You could only give them enough time to lower your guard before they killed you.
"I was wrong," his son had lost the indignation in his voice, he sounded resigned as if he realized how much he had disappointed his father.
"Since you want to ignore the basic so much," his father tone remained even. "It would be best for you to run some of the exercises worthy of a novice." He nodded his head to the some of the straw dummies. His son huffed out a sigh, rolling his eyes in annoyance under half hooded lids. He jogged over to the targets, summoning his sword.
"Brakus." His father called after him.
His second son's shoulder tensed up. He had his sword disperse in tiny balls of light. They flew into the dummies. It took a few moments before they shuddered to life. Before the first attack, Brakus already had his hand up, his stance steady and assured. He dodged their attacks before angrily delivering his own. He watched as his son tore his target apart. They would attack before reassembling themselves fully. Brakus would be expected to run the exercises for at least two hours before he would be allowed to stop. Vlaus turned to leave, nodding at the soldier currently in charge of the training grounds. He would have to have words with the captain about starting training for the youngest.
He recognized the steady footsteps of his wife, her steel-toed boots making dull thuds on the ground as she walked up next to him. She gently brushed her shoulder against his, her voice took on a mocking comforting tone.
"It must have been hard for you to discipline your favorite," the jeering in her voice was bright and peppy. When she saw his lips turn downward, his version of a frown, she let out a bark of laughter. Even in this moment of lax downtime, her eyes roamed the halls. Vigilant in keeping her husband safe.
"Our youngest seem to be making his siblings wary of him," she continued. "Our dearest daughter was so disturbed when she left his room that she actually took a sleeping pill instead of a stimulant."
Vlaus filed that away to look into later. He would have no problem interrogating his wife for the information, but the last time they did that it resulted in the youngest. He felt it before his wife poked his cheek. It would be better to rip the words from some of their more lax servants. He needed to work out some of the tension that had took residence in his shoulders.
"Aw," she mocked. "Are you tired of me already, darling?"
He shook his head in mock defeat. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her into his office. His attendants, who were already there, took one look at the couple. They took in their mood and immediately left without a word.
"Are we going to change out the couch again?" His wife asked him as he removed her coat.
"If that is what my wife wants," he answered her before he kissed her neck. She sharp laugh transitioned into a sigh soon after. After the couple finished their activities, his wife continued their earlier conversation.
"I will get to the bottom of what's happening with the youngest," she swore to her husband. "He may seem weak, but that child has shown signs that he is hiding something."
It was not too long ago when her youngest would flinch if anyone so much as look at him. Now, he would stare back with dull eyes. Not in the manner of someone who was broken. That dead eyed stare was more like someone who had long since lost the patience to even entertain company.
"I expect nothing less from my wife," Vlaus said. She was the only one he saw as an equal, separate from the value of being a Veilkerhurst. He wife had stood by his side during his competition even when she was forcibly engaged to his brother.
She giggled, a rare treat. "Of course. Our youngest has managed to undergo a personality change overnight. To think that he had the mental fortitude to do so is something that would be beneficial for the Veilkerhust family."
"We would be fools not to use him."