The sound of wood hitting wood was a common disturbance in the house these days.
Sometimes in quick succession, sometimes more evenly spread out.
Even as she cleaned the table from this morning's breakfast, she could hear it. It would seem that today's pace is a faster one.
She got used to it, she really did. If she cast a cursory glance to the window, she would see the source: one man, one boy, wielding two wooden swords, even as the man had a real blade sheathed at his hip.
The elder young master, by three minutes, was the one she always favored when he was just a babe; he was quieter, more observant, more compliant with instructions, not running away and disappearing when he learned how to crawl and later, walk.
But compared to his younger twin sibling, he was normal.
She did not want to think about the younger days of the two children, particularly because of the younger of the twins.
Her thoughts were disturbed again as a loud crack echoed from the yard. Turning her head, she observed absently that the son had broken the wooden sword of the father, but despite it, the older man could not seem to restrain the proud grin on his face, or rather, he did not have a need to.
She returned to cleaning as a loud laugh reached her ears from the man, followed by a startled yelp of the child as he was picked up suddenly.
After finishing with the cleaning of the table, she made her way towards the stairs that led to the second floor to prepare a bath for the two trainees outside.
___
Zagreus Grayrat was not a happy little camper.
He was five again; that was the first reason. His twin brother did not seem to like him at all.
Even as he sat in a bathtub of warm water, with his father behind him, relaxing from the training, though he did not know why, the man never seemed to be tired from their fights at all. In his opinion, the man was just being lazy.
He looked up, seeing his father's face, eyes closed and relaxed, the distinct green glow around him, swirling, dense, strong, seemingly unbreakable, was something distinctly him.
Zagreus was tired; unlike him, breaking that wooden sword took a lot more out of him than he would like to admit.
He moved his legs under the water, which was something he also had to get used to in this world of swords and magic. He could use his legs again, which, even after five years, was still a marvel.
"What are you thinking about so hard down there, Zag?"
The voice of his father managed to get his attention away from his thoughts. The boy looked up at him for a moment and shrugged lightly.
"Nothing... just tired."
The mutter was quiet, even for the older man. Paul leaned forward slightly, reaching down to ruffle his son's hair with a chuckle.
"Can't keep up with your old man, huh?"
He teased, getting an irritated huff from the boy. The blonde hair that was already wet was now sticking to his face everywhere, which was pushed away from his eyes with a quiet huff.
"I'm five..."
Zagreus grumbled, leaning his head on his hand, eyes drooping even as his father chuckled behind him.
"You turned five today. Speaking of, are you ready for your present tonight?"
His voice was teasing, though lower, seeing the boy slowly falling asleep from exhaustion, along with the warm water they were in.
Well, it was his fault for tiring him out like this during their training, so as a father, Paul would have to deal with his tired, sleepy, and disgruntled son.
___
Let the sleeping dogs lie.
That was a saying Paul knew, but rarely heeded in his short life, but now, as he stared at his eldest son, he admittedly favored him simply because he seemed more focused on the way of the sword, like him, it felt like he armed a sleeping dog with the best equipment a kingdom could offer, even if it was only a curved shortsword, a well made one, but a shortsword nonetheless.
Though Paul noted that it looked giant in the kid's hands.
His younger son, by a few minutes, was too absorbed in the book that his mother and he got the boy, and the small wand with a red gemstone that his magic teacher had given him as a present in his hand.
Returning his gaze to his eldest, Paul thought for a moment, just a fleeting moment, to say something wise, something a father should say to a son when giving him responsibility, as minuscule as it was.
However, Paul knew that it would go in one ear and come out the other, observing the focused expression on his face as Zagreus held the shortsword that was curved at the tip.
... And then the child spun it in his hand...
Paul knew that he would have his work cut out for him from now on. His eldest son was talented with the sword, just like Paul himself was when he was younger, no, even more so.
He wasn't going to tell him that, though... the kid would get a big head like he, himself did, that would be bad, his mother would kill him.
___
Zagreus held his new Falchion in hand, the day after he got it as a present, the training didn't only double, it tripled. While his brother was out of the house to finish his magic training, he felt like he had only just started his.
Blade met blade, and he was thrown back, barely landing on his feet as he raised his head to keep track of his father, who was already moving towards him, his sword raised.
Legs tensing, the boy darted back, the blade of the Falchion coming up and batting away the sword, his right leg slid behind him to stop his motion abruptly as he spun, his free hand coming up to clutch the hilt of his sword as he turned and tried to lash out at his father's side, he was not fast enough, however.
Pain exploded from his side as his view of the world shifted, and a second later, his body impacted the ground, a grunt escaping his throat as he rolled.
Pushing his free hand to the ground mid-roll, he forced his body into the air, landing on his feet shakily as he skidded back, only to fall over in a roll and end up looking up at the sky, panting in exertion.
"...Ow..."
He muttered, tilting his head slightly as his father walked over to him, crouching down with a grin, his sword resting on his shoulder, the picture-perfect representation of arrogance.
"You still have a long way to go, Kiddo~"
The teasing tone he was using only seemed to irk Zagreus more than the loss did.
"Never thought a grown man would be so proud of defeating a child, Father... Truly, we learn new things every day..."
The mutter was supposed to be scathing, but it came off as petulant, because much to his distaste, he was still a child.
___
Her sons were easy to raise; Zenith could easily admit that, they practically raised themselves.
That, in and of itself, was kind of the problem for her. Every time she looked at both of them, she was reminded of herself and her husband, Rudeus was like Paul, more talkative, more open, that only started showing when his magic tutor left, allowing him to grow more into his own, little by little, even getting a friend from the village, and much to her displeasure, he had his first fight with his father.
But it was Zagreus that worried her much more. As much as she loved him, they didn't really talk; he was a quiet boy, he never went to Paul with any of his problems, either, though Paul thought it was a good trait for a man to have.
Zagreus was five; he was no man; he was her little boy, her eldest son.
Every time she was out in the yard, doing gardening, and when he wasn't training with his father, he would be there, watching her from the window. When they ate, he was sitting next to her, and when she was doing chores around the house, even with Lilia being there, she still needed something to do, after all, he was helping.
He loved her; she knew that much, and she loved him back as any good mother should.
And she positively jumped at the chance to teach him what she knew about healing magic, even if the magic tutor was here at the time, she wasn't about to turn away her son when he asked for something for the first time.
And now here she was, watching her little boy train with her husband, their eldest was good, scary good, but Paul was not going to tell him that; she knew that much.
She was no swordsman, but she spent her younger years around good ones, and she knew Zagreus was only held back by his small body.
It was probably because he did not have anyone his age to practice with, he saw how his father was fighting, and he tried to copy it, while not having either his reach or his experience.
She closed her eyes for a moment, raising her hand to rub the sleep out of them. They really needed to stop training at the crack of dawn.
Her attention was grabbed by a loud noise of metal against metal, which would not be a cause for concern, but it was louder, and the grunt that followed after made her eyes snap wide open with worry.
The grunt, thankfully, came from Paul, who was looking at Zagreus with a raised eyebrow, surprise written all over his face, and their Eldest was panting, looking down at his sword with wide eyes.
It looked like he just figured something out, poor Paul.