On the sa clear night, sitting in their separate rooms in a different wing within the palace, Arthur and Leyla prepared for the evening in their own ways. However, even if they were in their own rooms, they were never truly apart.
Leyla was sitting on her bed, already in her nightgown, pulling the thick covers over her legs as she brushed her red curls back behind her ears with a yawn. Settling down, the faint scent of lavender from her pillow cald her mind, and she was letting it aimlessly wander, idly tracing the edges of her twin’s presence, curious if he was still up... And he was. She didn’t really need to reach out—Arthur’s mind was always there; she just had to focus a little on the oh-so-familiar feeling of energy, like being a second heartbeat.
"You’re still awake," she mused, feeling his mind spark with activity even before she sensed the direct reply, just as if he was suddenly scared out of deep thought by soone whispering into his ears.
"Of course I am! There is too much to do," Arthur’s voice responded in her head, tinged with a mix of annoyance that she scared him and a stifled chuckle because he did find it funny.
Focusing a little, Leyla could tell that he was seated at his desk, a blueprint spread before him, the glow of his lamp too bright to Leyla's sleepy mind, feeling as if she was looking into the sun. With a grunt and a grimace, she loosened a little on their ntal connection, turning her attention away from the intense light and right onto what her brother was working on. Not that it was a surprise... she knew it before seeing it with her mind's eyes. It was the design for a new ch variant that was sothing both her brothers were dreaming of. Both Arthur and Lancelot. With a roll of her eyes, she just couldn't understand, not even with their ntal connection, what was so cool in that machine that both of them dread of piloting their own one day. Still, she admired their convictions in pursuing it. Silently, she watched as Arthur's fingers moved quickly, sketching out adjustnts to the fra, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"You know they’ll never let you do it. Well, not until you are eighteen or sothing," Leyla reminded him, stretching her body and yawning once more as she nestled into her pillows. Her voice carried a teasing lilt, but there was also an undercurrent of concern in her thoughts that Arthur could easily get a feel of. "Mom and Dad… they always say no. Even Mom Yuri."
"One day, that no will turn into a yes!" Arthur exhaled, a mixture of frustration and understanding in his tone. "They won't repeat it forever. I just need to show them I’m ready. That's all! If I train with the army this sumr, maybe I can convince them. Sir Polo was knighted way younger than us!"
"I think that was different," Leyla frowned, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with one hand. "Also, you’ve been saying that for years, Arthur. When will it be enough? The more you try to force it, Dad will push back with an even greater force. You need to give it a pause... just for a year or so..." She paused, her thoughts drifting to the Avalonian History volus stacked on her nightstand. "I still think we should go to the Ishillian capital instead. Forcing things won't work, Arthur. Also, there’s so much history there! It could even inspire you about how to get Dad on your side, hm?
"You just want in on the Empress's library." Arthur chuckled in answer.
"Yes, that's too." She admitted without any sha, "Imagine the stories it could tell—the secrets it might hold. Dad has no ti to write out all the books he has morized. And I can't sit in his lap listening to him retelling them one-by-one..."
"You and your books," Arthur teased, though there was warmth in his thought. "Always chasing stories. You are sotis worse than Uncle rlin."
"Hey! Take that back!"
"It is true." Arthur giggled, further annoying her sister, before ignoring her jabbing thoughts and continued speaking, "You know, I’d rather build sothing that will actually be useful. Ishillia is great, but they are no longer the empire everyone is looking at. That's us."
"Bah!" Leyla snorted, "Everyone wants to steal our inventions, you an. You know, too, that all the neighbors, even those who have a decade-long grudge against Ishillia like the Kingdom of Scorc, are buttering up to them! Didn't they sign a non-aggression pact for fifty years just last year? Opening up trade for the first ti?"
"To get to us," Arthur added sharply. "That is why Atuvia also managed to buy out their old territories and is now back to being a stable and prospering country. Whichever you look at though... it is thanks to us."
"That just tells us to go there more. We could learn from all the others who visit them. Mingle a little. See new perspectives!"
"Maybe." Arthur muttered thoughtfully, "Maybe we could gain so helpful spell ideas..."
"You an helpful for fighting," Leyla shot back, letting a hint of concern slip into their link. She could feel his determination, his drive to protect Avalon, but it also worried her. He carried too much weight on his shoulders... Because he was going to take their Father's place one day.
Three years ago, during a serious family eting, it was decided that Arthur would ascend the throne one day. However, it hadn't yet been made official, and only a few people knew about it, including the highest-ranking ministers and General Oleg.
"For protecting," Arthur corrected gently, his ntal voice softening. "The winters before us won’t get easier... I can... feel it. I just want to be ready. If I lose what our parents had built here, I would feel ashad to face the people."
"You are at least two decades from having to worry about that, Arthur!" Leyla sighed, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. The faint patterns of starlight filtering through her window danced above her, but her thoughts were slowly slipping farther away. "You can’t fight everything, you know. Even warriors need to rest. I told Lancelot the sa thing, but he is just like you, saying he will be your sharpest sword at your disposal. Honestly, you two should kiss one day."
"Stop reading Mom Luna's novels. They twist your mind, as Mom would say."
"Don't worry, I'll keep your dirty little secret if you two get together. My mouth will be sealed!"
"Just go to sleep." Arthur, although his thoughts were chiding her, the laughter was there; Leyla could feel it. "Don't worry, I know I won’t fight. Not yet, that is. I lack the experience... But if I don’t prepare, people will die when I must step up."
"You always put so much on yourself… We are a family. You are not alone." Leyla murmured, her exhaustion slipping through the link of the two. She slowly closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the blankets soothe her. "At least promise you’ll consider coming to Ishillia with ?"
"I will," Arthur promised in the end, letting his sister's mind relax even further. Sensing that his sister was about to fall asleep, his gaze returned to the blueprint before him, his fingers tightening around the pencil he was holding. "Good night, Leyla."
"Good night…" Her presence slowly faded from his awareness as sleep took his sister, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts and his work.
"Going to visit... huh?" He muttered, shaking his head, returning to the drawing board.
For a while, the only sound in his room was the scratch of pencil on paper as he refined the details of the ch’s fra he was designing. He adjusted weight distributions and considered new plating designs while creating a four-legged variant. He needed sothing bulkier, stronger, and better shielded than what existed now. A type of walking troop carrier and a mobile base on the ground. His mind raced with calculations, his focus narrowing to the task at hand, thinking if he should also implent a twin-core system like in the Calot. Or would that be too much?
But then—
A sudden whisper brushed through his consciousness.
"Huh?!" He flinched, snapping his head upwards, gazing out his windows towards the massive mountain range.
Sothing was there... It was faint. Yet, he was so sure he heard sothing... A faint voice that, at first, he thought it was just his imagination. But then, it ca again. There it was! And he recognized it. It was a sound he had not heard in almost twelve years. Yet, this ti, it was clear. The mont he recognized it, he could hear it. It was no longer indistinct; it was no longer muddled. No. He heard it speak.
"Save us… Co, save us…"
The mont the words made sense, Arthur's whole body stilled, his pencil hovering above the paper. His breath was caught in his throat as the whisper echoed in his mind, again... and again. It was distant yet pressing at him, calling out to him. And more than that, he could tell that the sender realized he caught the ssage. Whoever was on the other end of this... link, I knew he got through. So, his words changed, now filled with clear intent.
"Our child... co to us... Co back... to us. Save... us."
"What the…?" He closed his eyes, focusing on it as best as he could. The whisper beca clearer, more insistent, almost... begging.
"Save us… Please… You must..."
Arthur couldn't help it as mories stirred up in him. It brought him back to when he was a child, and he had heard this voice frequently. It was never so clear, and after talking about it with his parents, they suppressed it—or so he thought. He had grown used to its absence until now. But this ti... this was different. This was much more real.
Then... the connection began disappearing. His heart pounded as the whisper faded, leaving only silence in its wake. Starting to search, he could only feel the sleeping Leyla, who hadn't even noticed the third party intruding on their link. Which... was weird but not at the sa ti. With a sigh, he set the pencil down slowly, his fingers tightening into a fist as he stared at the flickering starlight outside of his room.
"Leyla?" he thought instinctively, reaching out to her. But her mind was quiet, lost in sleep, and she ignored his call. He hesitated, torn between waking her and letting her rest.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned down in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. His mind raced on what to do, trying to make sense of what he had heard. If the whispers had returned now, there had to be a reason. He needed to approach this logically and calmly. Just as he learned from his Father.
Reaching for a blank sheet of paper, he began jotting down everything he could rember from the last ti he had heard them—the patterns, the frequency, the emotions behind the words. It had to be magic, so it had to be traceable. The old mories were faint, but now that he focused on them, details began to surface as he tried to recall everything. In tis like these, he wished he had the gift of his youngest brother...
"Who are you?" He thought, staring at the words he had written down, trying to find possible links to any type of runes or indications of magic. "And why are you calling now?"
A shiver ran down his spine as he considered the possibilities. Could it be connected to the Vasa bloodline he heard about from his parents? Apparently, they had it in abundance. So... he believed it had to be one link. Then what else? Was it connected to the winter battles? The monsters? Beasts? Or to sothing entirely different?
"Maybe..." He muttered, biting the end of his pencil, "A trip to Ishillia isn't that bad of an idea, after all."
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