Chapter Text
Imperial Year 1174
Margravate of Gautier
Glenn is still fifteen, and it has been not even a week since his knighting ceremony when Glenn was invited to dine by Margrave Gautier.
The letter claimed it was a way to personally thank Glenn for holding back the Sreng invaders, and an apology that Sreng invaders had gotten so close to Fraldarius territory in the first place.
Personally, Glenn did not want to dine with Margrave Gautier. The man is Miklan’s and Sylvain’s father, but he’s always… unsettled Glenn. As a child, if Glenn didn’t have to be around the man, then he was somewhere else.
But Glenn is no longer a young child, he is a knight. And being a knight not only means defending Faerghus, but it also means dining with people you don’t particularly like.
Frankly, Glenn would prefer doing a million other things than accepting Margrave Gautier’s insincere thanks and false apologies. However, there was a chance that Miklan would be there, and it has been far too long since he’s seen his friend, distant as they may be.
So, Glenn packed up what he needed, and managed to convince father to let him take Felix with him under the guise of teaching Felix how to converse with other noble houses (If he must suffer with Margrave Gautier, then so does Felix), and set off to Gautier territory. His younger brother grousing all the way.
“Why did you bring me along?” Felix complained about for the nth time in a row. “What am I even supposed to do there? Sylvain is still at Fhirdiad with Dimitri.”
“It’s like I told father, Felix.” Glenn simpered, a placating smile on his face. “I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to simply learn how to make nice with esteemed nobles like Margrave Gautier.”
“You’re lying, we both know it’s because I left you alone with father and King Lambert.” Felix accused, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, is it?” Glenn said feigning confusion. “No matter, look we’ve arrived.”
Felix groaned as the Gautier estate came into view and Glenn hid a smile beneath his hand. His little brother is so easy to rile up sometimes. Besides, Glenn doesn’t know why Felix is complaining. Glenn will have to be the one to make nice with Margrave Gautier, he’s confident that Margrave Gautier will even forget Felix is there.
A little boredom is payment enough for leaving your big brother to the mercy of the king’s and Rodrigue’s hours long, alcohol induced, stories about the days of their youth.
Soon, after he and Felix were situated in their rooms, they went to meet Margrave Gautier in the dining room for dinner.
The Margrave sat at the head of the oak wood table. When he saw Glenn and Felix enter the room, he stood up with his hands folded behind his back.
“Sir Glenn and young master Felix, truly it is a pleasure to have such esteemed individuals in my humble home,” the Margrave said, his tone polite and cordial.
Glenn bowed slightly to the older man, his smile polite and voice even. “No, the pleasure is ours for letting us impose on you.”
Glenn subtly elbowed his brother when he stayed quiet. Felix sighed heavily, before bowing back.
“It’s our pleasure,” Felix grumbled back and Glenn sighed internally. That’s probably the best he’ll get.
“It is no imposition at all. After all, this is the least I could do for the knight who fought off Sreng invaders in our place. Please take a seat, and we shall get started with dinner.” The Margrave was curt and to the point, leaving no room for arguing.
Glenn and Felix did. As the servants started bringing out plates of food, he took a look around noticing that Miklan was still not in attendance. Surely, the Margrave wouldn’t start dinner without his oldest son.
“Pardon me if my question is impolite, Margrave, but where is Miklan? Is he not joining us tonight?” Glenn asked. “I was under the impression that he was home with you?”
“Miklan is here, sir Glenn. He will not be joining us tonight, unfortunately. He is in his room, reflecting on his failures and the embarrassment he brought onto House Gautier,” Margrave Gautier said calmly, emotionless, as if he was talking about the weather.
“I-I see…” Glenn did not see. The Gautier's territory laid right in front of the country of Sreng and had been defending the border for near two-hundred years. It is their duty to protect Faerghus from any Sreng invasions, and he understands the failure it would bring if they managed to sneak past Gautier territory, but the invaders had come from the sea, shooting off from the end of the peninsula to land in Faerghus territory. Glenn knows that the Margrave is not a stupid man, for all that Glenn dislikes the man, he cannot deny that Margrave Gautier has a sharp mind, but would he even see a potential invasion from the sea? And what failure could the Margrave be referring to?
“Please, sir Glenn, eat. Do not give more thought to my oldest son.” Margrave Gautier waved a hand, gesturing the spread of food around them. “Do eat before the food gets cold, lest Duke Fraldarius thinks I am starving his sons.”
A clear order to drop the subject. Glenn would not get further information if he pushed, that would serve only to irritate the Margrave. So, he pasted a placating and apologetic smile on his face.
“Of course. I would hate to waste such excellent food.” He said, scooping some food onto his plate. “You too, Felix. It was a long journey, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“Only because you dragged me along,” Felix said, lowly enough for only Glenn to hear, but he nonetheless scooped some food onto his own plate.
Glenn noticed he completely avoided some greens and placed more onto his plate, causing his brother to frown heavily. Despite his worry for Miklan, Glenn couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s childishness. You’d think he was five years old and not a boy of eleven years. Ahh, his little brother, so cute.
They all made polite conversation throughout dinner, nothing too substantial. Occasionally, Margrave Gautier would ask Felix something directly, usually about Sylvain or his own training. This was really the only time Felix would chime in, usually in short sentences, but for the rest of the dinner he stayed quiet, content to simply eat his fill. Glenn too, would be content to simply eat and not make conversation with the Gautier lord. That is until, Margrave Gautier mentioned that he plays chess.
“Oh?” Glenn perked up, feeling a silver of interest for once throughout this whole dinner. “You play, Margrave?”
“I do, indeed sir Glenn. After all, if I am to protect our borders from Sreng invaders I must have a sharp mind.” He answered, raising a brow at Glenn. “Are you perhaps interested?”
“If I may impose on the Margrave’s time, I would be gladdened to play a couple of rounds. After all, it would be a good opportunity to try and sharpen my skills against someone other than my father.” Glenn answered.
“I suppose it has been a while since I’ve played a good round with a worthy opponent, if the rumors are to be believed. Come to my office at noon tomorrow. I look forward to testing your skills, Glenn Fraldarius.” Margrave Gautier said and Glenn bowed his head in thanks, excitement thrumming through his veins.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Margrave. I’ll be sure not to disappoint.” Glenn said.
The Margrave hummed and went back to eating his fill. Despite not liking the Margrave, Glenn can’t deny it’s a good chance to try his tactics skills against a seasoned veteran. His leadership of his forces was one of many things praised in his battle against the Sreng Invaders, but one must constantly strive forward to improve even when you think you’ve reached the pinnacle.
Glenn is only just fifteen, he’s not so egotistical enough to believe that one victory marks the pinnacle of his abilities, if there is a chance to improve them, he will gladly take the chance.
(Later that night, Felix called him competitive and Glenn did not deny the accusation, but reminded him of all the times he challenged Glenn and Dimitri to fights to beat them.)
Margrave Gautier is truly a worthy opponent indeed. With each of Glenn’s moves, the Margrave counters him, easily capturing one of Glenn’s pieces in just a couple of moves. The Margrave truly deserves to watch over the Faergheus-Sreng border. Still, because the Margrave has been defending the border so well Glenn can’t help but wonder about something…
“Margrave, pardon my rudeness, but may I ask how the soldiers from Sreng had managed to get so far into Faerghus waters?” Glenn asked, curiosity in his voice. It seemed odd, it just didn’t add up with the shrewd, tactical man sitting in front of Glenn and seemingly predicting his moves.
Margrave Gautier sighed heavily. “It is a sensible question, after all they made landfall on the coast of Fraldarius territory and caused damage to the local town. It is within your right to wonder. Essentially, you can blame my fool of a son, Miklan.”
That… wasn’t the answer Glenn was expecting. “Miklan??”
“Yes. Miklan had begged me to let him keep watch over the border for a month, while I attended to business in the Leicester Alliance. I, like a fool, thought that it would perhaps teach my useless son something about leadership.” here, perhaps for the first time, Margrave Gautier lost his composure a little as his voice rose in volume. “But the fool did not try to even learn about their plans, but when it was reported that they were spotted in Faerghus waters, he not only failed to notify me, but failed in even stopping their advance!”
With each word spat out, Glenn grew increasingly uncomfortable and awkward about how the Margrave spoke about his son, his friend (even though he wasn’t sure if Miklan considered them that with the silence on his end).
Margrave Gautier sighed again, regaining his composure. “Perhaps it was my fault. Miklan has no crest, I was a fool to believe that someone with no crest would be capable of defending our borders.”
Glenn swallowed. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles in Faerghus to care deeply about whether someone has a crest or not. In fact, it is common for nobles to have many children in hopes of one of them having a crest and that child being their heir. Margrave Gautier is no different in the way he treats one crestless son as lesser than their crest bearing sibling.
It doesn’t make Glenn any more uncomfortable about the way Margrave Gautier talks about two people he cares about.
“I should have known,” the Margrave murmurs as he moves a pawn forward. “With the way he treats Sylvain.”
“With the way he treats Sylvain?” Glenn echoes, blinking at the Margrave. Sylvain hardly talks about Miklan, but the very few times Glenn had asked about him Sylvain had closed up leaving Glenn with an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Perhaps he should’ve pushed more to find out what was going on with him.
“Sir Glenn, I will be honest. Miklan and Sylvain’s relationship isn’t like yours and Felix. Miklan does not help his brother train, he does not go out of his way to make sure he is eating well and filling his plate the way you did last night during dinner.” Margrave Gautier said. “Miklan is jealous that Sylvain inherited our crest, simply put. Ever since it emerged, he’s been nothing but resentful and spiteful.”
“He sabotages Sylvain during his training, he strikes at him with sharpened weapons when Sylvain is defenseless, three months ago, he pushed Sylvain down a flight of stairs! Sylvain could have died and what then!? The fool is too caught up in his own desires to think about the territory as a whole!”
The Margrave finished his hissed rant. His voice full of contempt and all aimed at his eldest son. Glenn… Glenn could hardly believe a word that was coming from the Margrave’s mouth. It just didn’t add up with the Miklan he used to know. The Miklan that made up silly games to play together, the Miklan that played Knights and Dragons with him.
The Miklan that was practically over the moon when his baby brother was born.
Margrave Gautier must have seen the confusion and doubt on Glenn’s face and laced his fingers together on the table, leaning forward as he did so. “I know that you and Miklan were friends as children, but you and him have barely seen and spoken to each other in a number of years. You can’t have expected Miklan to stay the same, much like you aren’t the same as you once were.”
Glenn pursed his lips, an argument ready at the tip of his tongue. He so badly wanted to jump to his friend’s defense, but unfortunately, it is like the Margrave said. He doesn’t know how much Miklan must have changed in the years between. That and coupled with Sylvain’s behavior whenever he’s mentioned, it lent some truth to the Margrave’s words.
Perhaps he can seek him out? Speak with him and properly catch up with him after all these years? Perhaps, a deeper part of him can’t accept that his cheerful friend would change so drastically, especially not towards Sylvain.
Before, when he was eager to test his skills against the Margrave, now he simply wants to finish and find Miklan as soon as he can.
Thankfully, the Margrave didn’t seem to want to speak about Miklan anymore and gestured to the chess set that was nearly forgotten.
“But enough about my own son, sir Glenn. Come, let us resume or game. I believe it was your turn?” He said.
Glenn murmured his agreement, giving thought to where to next move his piece and then doing so. He tried his best to not let his discomfort show as the game went on.
He could barely describe how glad he is to finally step out of the Margrave’s office.
While he appreciated the rounds of chess he managed to play with the Margrave, the whole experience was soon dominated by the Margrave’s words about Miklan. Margrave Gautier is no different in his stance about crests than other nobles, but Glenn is still wildly uncomfortable with how many nobles treat their children as if their worth did not extend beyond their crests.
House Fraldarius was lucky. Both its sons were born with the crest of their ancestor, and Glenn was lucky that his parents loved him and Felix for them and not just their crests. He knew that many other children weren’t as lucky.
He’ll seek out Miklan for now. See how his old friend is doing. Get his side of the story. After all, one must try not to make assumptions without gathering all the information you can.
(Glenn can remember how excited Miklan was about being an older brother. How he eagerly introduced him to baby Sylvain when Glenn and his parents visited. Glenn remembers how Sylvain would freeze up at the mere mention of his brother. How could Miklan change so drastically in just a couple of years?)
As Glenn begins making his way down the hall of the manor searching for Miklan’s room, he runs into Felix. Judging from his dusted boots and pants, and the sweat shining on his face, Glenn figures he must have just come from the training grounds.
“Finished your training for the day, little brother?” Glenn asked and Felix nodded.
“For today, yes. Also, because there’s nothing else to do.” He muttered the very last part. Louder, he said, “Did you finish your chess match with Margrave Gautier. Did you win? You won, right?”
Despite the turmoil in his thoughts, Glenn couldn’t help but smile at Felix. “No, I did not win against the Margrave, but it was very close a couple of times.”
Felix wrinkled his nose. “Being close isn’t good enough. How come you didn’t win? You always beat father?”
Glenn couldn’t help but ruffle his brother’s hair, much to Felix’s chagrin. “Your confidence in me is heartwarming, Felix, truly, but Margrave Gautier has been sharpening his mind long before we were born. It will take me quite a while before I reach his skills. As for father… well, I am still not quite as good as he is when it comes to Faith magic.”
“I guess,” Felix mumbled, as if Glenn not being good at something is unrealistic to him.
“I still have much to learn, Felix. And so do you.” Glenn said. “Now, I’m off to look for Miklan. I wish to speak with him.”
“He’s at the training grounds. I saw him when I was leaving,” Felix said, absentmindedly dusting dirt off his shirt. “Be careful, Glenn. He felt… weird.”
Glenn narrowed his eyes. “Weird? Weird how?”
Felix shrugged. “I don't know, but something about him just felt off to me. There’s a reason why Ingrid, Dimitri, and I don’t discuss Miklan you know. It’s because he’s weird, and he freaks Sylvain out.”
Glenn swallows. Felix’s instincts are usually correct, so if he says that Miklan is acting odd Glenn is inclined to believe him, but Glenn needs to speak with Miklan. Find out what his friend has been up to and discover why he’s acting like this.
“Thank you, Felix. I’ll be vigilant. Now go wash up and stop tracking dirt inside someone else’s home.” Glenn says as more dirt from Felix’s clothes tumble to the floor.
Felix huffed but nonetheless heeded Glenn’s words and stalked off to his room. Glenn sighed, pushing some of his hair back and began to make the trek to the training grounds of the Gautier home.
At the grounds, it’s the first good look at Miklan that Glenn has gotten in years.
His hair is a little longer now, long enough to be pulled back into a small bun at the base of his neck. It used to be shorter, Glenn remembered. He was taller now too, a little taller than Glenn is now when before Glenn held the height advantage. He’s lean, but strong. Glenn could tell by the effortless way he handles his lance. Miklan was always better at handling lances than Glenn was. Too long and unwieldy for him, he preferred swords for better control.
But Miklan also looked… angrier. His teeth were bared in a snarl as he hacked at the training dummy, his brows pulled inwards as if he were constantly scowling. His eyes held a sort of feral look in them, and it made even Glenn hesitate to approach him.
He shook off that hesitation soon enough. Miklan was his friend, he has no reason to hurt him.
So, when Miklan paused in between hits, is when Glenn spoke up.
“That’s good form,” Glenn praised, trying to keep his smile easy and inviting as Miklan whirled around to face him. “You’ve always been better with lances than I have.”
Miklan stared at him for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe that Glenn was there. Emotions flitted over his face, too quick for Glenn to read, but his face settled on scowling soon enough.
“Maybe, but not good enough yet.” Miklan said finally, twirling his lance around. Glenn then took another couple steps forward, hoping to bridge the physical gap between them.
“It is wonderful to see you, Miklan. How have you been? I’ve missed you over the last couple of years,” Glenn said. ‘What happened? Did I do something to drive you away?’ are the questions he wants to ask, but he is unsure on how to ask them.
Miklan scoffed and Glenn swallowed at the sound. “I’m honored that the Prodigy of Faerghus spares his thoughts to someone as lowly as me.”
Glenn blinks at the words, unable to digest the self-mockery and the unknown title spat through Miklan’s lips. He ignores it for now, frowning at Miklan. “You are not lowly, Miklan. You are my friend. Of course, I would think about you–”
Miklan’s scoff cuts him off. “Please spare me the sentiment Glenn. I don’t need your empty platitudes.”
“‘Platitudes’” Glenn parroted. “No, Miklan they’re not platitudes! You’re my friend!”
“Friends… can we really be considered friends after so long?” Miklan mused.
“I would like to think of us as friends…” Glenn said, hoping that against everything, Miklan would think the same. But the longer that Miklan stayed silent, the more Glenn’s heart sank. “But, you think differently… don’t you?”
“I’ve always been envious of you, Glenn,” Miklan started and Glenn blinked, taken aback by both the sudden topic change and admission. “Born blessed with a crest, talented in seemingly everything you do, admired by all. Rodrigue Fraldarius’s pride and joy.”
The last one was coated in envy, in want and Glenn didn’t know how to respond to Miklan’s words. He didn’t have to.
“I thought that perhaps if I worked just as hard I’d be able to catch up to you, stand beside you as an equal.” Miklan continued, his words becoming more and more bitter. “But when Sylvain’s crest appeared, and he supplanted me as the Gautier heir… It was like a slap to the face. It was then clear as day that I would never be considered an equal. Not in the eyes of Faerghus. Not in the eyes of father. Not without a crest. I would always be lesser than Sylvain. Lesser than you.”
Glenn could barely comprehend Miklan’s words. He had no idea that Miklan was harboring this much bitterness. It pained him that he hadn’t noticed how much his friend was hiding inside. A part of him said that he couldn’t have known, not with Miklan pulling away and burying his feelings, but Miklan was his closest friend he should have had some… some inkling! Glenn knew how Margrave Gautier thought of those without a crest, he should’ve thought about how that would affect Miklan, but–
“Then Is the way you’ve been treating Sylvain true, then?” Glenn asked. “I’ve heard things, but–”
Miklan cut Glenn off again, “And what of it? What will you do, Glenn? Stop me? Give me some grand lecture? You can save it because I don’t want to hear it.”
Glenn could only stare in disbelief at how… dismissive and callous Miklan is about the abuse he inflicts on his brother. He didn’t, couldn’t, believe what others said about Miklan. He wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, he so badly wanted to trust him. Trust in the friend he grew up with, but now… he could scarcely believe the person Miklan is growing into.
He could hardly believe the dissonance between the Miklan now and the Miklan he played with as a child.
The Miklan standing before him was angry, bitter. A seemingly permanent scowl etched onto his face and his eyes gleaming with an almost hungry and manic light. Glenn clenched his fists, mouth twisting downwards.
Had Miklan always been like this? Jealous and spiteful? No, Glenn remembered Miklan as a cheerful boy, always eager to please and the two of them had always spent time together.
“Attached at the hip,” His mother had fondly said once.
But if Sylvain truly feared his brother, if what Miklan has done is the truth, how many times had they visited the estate and Glenn had simply been blind to Sylvain’s behavior around Miklan? Or perhaps it isn’t that he has been blind, it is that he has simply looked the other way. Not wanting to think that his best friend was anything but a boy who still shared Glenn’s dream of knighthood and being honorable and virtuous knights.
Had Miklan hidden his true nature behind a mask that Glenn had wanted to see?
It made him sick to think about.
That maybe he didn’t know his friend at all and that Sylvain had suffered for it.
“Miklan, your anger, your rage… Sylvain is not the person you should be directing it to. He is innocent in this! He didn’t ask–”
Miklan gave a bark of laughter, cutting him off. Glenn saw the way Miklan’s lips curled into a snarl full of mockery.
“Oh? Is the Prodigy of Faerghus here to lecture me about how I can treat my own blood? Should have figured. You always stuck your nose into other people’s business when we were kids.” Miklan absentmindedly twirled his lance in his hands. “I’ll tell you now, Glenn: what I do and say to my brother is none of your business, and It’d do you well to stay out of it.”
“Sylvain is a child, Miklan!” Glenn burst out, no longer being able to keep his anger under wraps. “Sylvain is my friend, he is Felix’s friend! And he has done nothing to wrong you!”
“He was born with a crest!” Miklan yelled, face twisting into an ugly scowl. “He was born with a crest and replaced me as the heir of Gautier! And that is enough,”
“Both of which he did not ask for!” Glenn was sure the whole estate is being made aware of their argument, with how loud the both of them were yelling. “Gods, Miklan use your head. If it upset you this much, speak with your father! Show him your worth, I–”
By the way, Miklan roared at him in anger, Glenn knew he had made a mistake in mentioning the Margrave.
Miklan lunged forward, lance poised to strike Glenn directly in the stomach. Any other person would be caught unawares by the sudden attack, but Glenn had drawn his sword from his scabbard, blocking the strike with a grunt and barely avoiding a grievous injury.
This close, Glenn could see just how truly furious Miklan is, his jaw tensed, teeth grounding together, and his temple is pulsing.
“Miklan!” Glenn cried in shock, surprised that Miklan would ever attack him in such a rabid and dishonorable way. “You would dare attack someone in such a way? Where is your honor?”
“Honor? Miklan spat. “You should know Glenn, there is no honor in a fight. Did none of those Sreng invaders had tried to attack you when your back was turned? Send them in first as fodder as you simply stood behind your loyal soldiers as they took care of most of the fighters, and you picked off anyone who was left?”
“You dare?” Glenn hissed, eyes narrowing. He gripped his sword hilt tighter, raising his sword to push Miklan back enough to parry his lance. Glenn raised a foot, kicking Miklan in the stomach, and he stumbled back with a grunt. “I would never hide behind such cowardly tactics. I did my best to make sure the soldiers under my command suffered no casualties, the life of every soldier is important.”
“Such an honorable sentiment-Oh yes because the great Glenn Fraldarius could never do no wrong. A golden child! The prodigy of House Fraldarius! The pride and joy of Faerghus!” Miklan spat, raising his lance and bringing it down. Glenn stepped back, the lance catching his sleeve.
“Honor, knighthood, all of it– meaningless when you have no crest. After all, how is someone like me supposed to shine when people like you already have a greater advantage?”
Miklan’s attacks were wild, aggressive. He barely gave Glenn time to think, and he was forced to stay on the defensive just to keep Miklan from injuring him. He really hoped Miklan wouldn’t injure him grievously, that somewhere he still recognized that it was Glenn he was attacking. With the way, this battle was going, he didn’t feel too confident.
“You are a formidable fighter, Miklan! I’m sure–” Glenn ducked, the lance sweeping the air above him where his head was. “I’m certain that if you show how good you are the Kingdom will notice your talents!”
“All I do is try to show them my worth, and every time I am scorned and turned away!” Miklan cried, voice anguished. “I try and try, and yet I always fall short! To you, to Sylvain. You even achieved knighthood, and we are the same age!”
Miklan sweeps his lance out to the side and Glenn sees his chance. He lunges forward and feints to the left, hoping to catch Miklan off guard. Unfortunately, Miklan predicts this and as Glenn moves in from the right, sword raised, Miklan raises his lance to block and the Crest of Fraldarius shines between them, just for a moment, as momentum drives his sword down.
Snap!
Glenn’s sword cleaves Miklan’s lace right down the middle, splitting the weapon in two. Neither of them move, their breaths coming in harsh pants.
Finally, Glenn lowers his sword from where it was pointing at Miklan’s chest. Sweat was beading down his face and neck, and he was breathing heavily. Normally, after winning a spar his sore muscles and heavy breaths are a sign of a good fight and leaves him feeling exhilarated, but this fight, a fight between someone Glenn considers a close friend, all it leaves him with is a feeling of dread. The anger draining out of him as quickly as water drains into rivers.
“... Miklan?” He prods. Gently, softly, as if not spook him.
Miklan shows no sign that he heard him. Straightening and tossing his broken lance to the ground at Glenn’s feet.
“You who were lucky enough to be born with a crest, how must it feel to stand above the rest of us? Skilled, revered, and praised by society?” Miklan asks, head low and almost despondent.
“I…” Glenn starts, but trails off. He wets his lips, his mouth dry. “I don’t wish to be.”
Glenn’s voice comes out small, practically a whisper, even to himself. It’s a pathetic defense, a weak platitude to convince himself that he doesn’t like the attention. He doesn’t do what he does for praise from others, he does it simply because it’s the right thing to do, but he would by lying to himself if he didn’t like the sense of pride and approval that came from it. From his father, his brother, from Ingrid and everyone else.
“You don’t wish to be, but you are. Simply because you were born with a crest.” Miklan continued. “The Church and Lady Rhea say that those with Crests were blessed by the Goddess and that only those blessed can lead Fódlan and wield the Goddess’s weapons.
But what of the rest of us? Are we to be content with our lot in life? Forever to be outshone? Forever to be victim to the whims of fate?”
Miklan finally raised his head to look at him, his face back to the intense frown Glenn had seen on him earlier. “You and Sylvain may not have asked to be born with a Crest, but that does not change the fact that you do.”
“But that still doesn’t mean you can take that anger out on Sylvain. He has done nothing to deserve it.” Glenn tried again, to get his friend to understand that Sylvain is innocent in all of this.
Miklan shook his head with a disbelieving scoff. “Here you are, still honorable despite our bout. Perhaps my lack of Crest isn’t the only thing different between us.”
“But, Miklan–”
“Save it.” Miklan cut him again, that anger rising to the surface again in his eyes as he glared at Glenn. “You have already defeated me in our fight and destroyed my lance. I don’t need another self-righteous lecture from you.”
With that, Miklan turned on his heel and began to stalk away from the training grounds.
Glenn could have rushed to stop him, to grab him and shake him to try and ask where his old friend went, but he didn’t. He stood frozen, feet glued to the ground as he stood watching Miklan get further and further away from him.
That chasm that was between them earlier, the one that Glenn was desperate to fill, seemed impossibly wide now. And he feared it was impossible to bridge across it ever again.
Later, when Glenn was cleaned up and Felix came to ask him how his talk went, he could only stare and blink at his little brother.
Felix is a boy of eleven years, he loved fighting and testing his mettle, but he was a bit of a crybaby too. Most of all, he looked up to Glenn as if he hung the stars. And Glenn… he doesn’t know how Miklan could ever resent his younger brother, especially for something he couldn’t control.
Glenn wonders if he were the one born without a crest and Felix the lucky one, would he be able to resent him? Resent him the way Miklan does Sylvain? For a terrifying moment, Glenn didn’t know the answer.
But then Felix prodded him with a confused call of his name, brows furrowed in concern and Glenn wrapped him up in a tight hug. Felix, now more confused and most definitely a little worried, hugged him back and Glenn knew the answer to his question is a resounding: No.
“I love you, baby brother.” Glenn said.
“I love you too?” Felix said back, confused. “Why the sudden declaration of love? Did it go that badly?”
Glenn pulled back to ruffle his brother’s hair, ignoring his squawk of protest. “What? A brother can’t tell his darling baby brother ‘I love you’ anymore?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Ah, I suppose you are getting a little too old for that.” Glenn mused, before sighing deeply. “I suppose I will just wither away, then. Watching from the sidelines until my little brother grows too old to indulge his older brother’s whims.”
Felix groaned, rolling his eyes so hard Glenn thought they’d get stuck that way. Either way, Felix dropped the subject for now.
Glenn couldn’t be more glad that he did because he doesn’t even know how to begin unraveling the mess that is his emotions regarding Miklan.
In the darkness of night and the privacy of his room, Glenn still shed tears over him. Their argument replaying over and over again in his mind because despite everything, Miklan was still a person Glenn grew up with and held close, and he couldn’t help but mourn that severed connection.
But it felt severely unjust. For Glenn to mourn a friendship with the person who harmed ( harms his traitorous brain corrects) a friend of him and his brother. Gods, it's no wonder Sylvain visits as much as he does. Miklan is inflicting hurt and rage towards someone who does not deserve it, and here Glenn is, shedding tears over the same person.
And yet… Glenn can’t help but miss the person he remembers Miklan to be.
In the morning, Glenn will wash his face and act as if nothing is amiss. He will dine with Felix and Margrave Gautier for breakfast and collect his bag to prepare for the journey back to Fraldarius lands.
He is the oldest son of Rodrigue and Edith Fraldarius, future duke and a Knight of Faerghus. Furthermore, he must push pass his own feelings and focus on the here and now and of the surrounding lands.
(It still aches when Miklan did not come to see them off)
“Welcome back my sons,” Father greeted as they dismounted their horses. “How was the trip?”
“It was boring,” Felix answered, shooting a pointed glare in Glenn’s direction. “But, I did get some training in, so it wasn’t a complete waste.”
Their father snorted in amusement at the predictable answer and then turned to Glenn. “And you, Glenn? How was the Margrave?”
“It was okay, father. The Margrave treated us well, and I even managed to play a couple of rounds of chess with him.” Glenn answer was simple, to the point.
“Sharpening your mind further, eh? There’s no better opponent to test yourself against than Margrave Gautier.” His father said and Glenn tilted his head in agreement.
“Quite. It was truly a wonderful chance to test myself. Though, he won nearly all of them.”
“Ah, it is to be expected. Margrave Matthias Gautier has been defending the border for years, so do not despair. I am certain you will beat him in a game soon enough.” His father praised, patting Glenn’s shoulder, and he ducked his head, a pleased flush growing on his cheeks.
“Thank you, father.”
“That reminds me,” his father mused, looking thoughtful. “Was Miklan there? I know it has been some time since you’ve seen each other. It’s been since your mother’s passing, if I am correct… How was he?”
Felix, who had still been standing around with them, turned to look at Glenn in curiosity. Perhaps remembering he never actually got a real answer out of him.
Faced with both his father’s and brother’s expectant faces, Glenn was compelled to tell them the truth. That Miklan had changed (or forever has been) to someone unrecognizable. That he spit vitriol, comments full of rage at both Glenn and about his own brother. That he attacked Glenn and had all but severed the friendship they once had.
“All I do is try to show them my worth, and every time I am scorned and turned away! I try and try, and yet I always fall short!”
“Oh yes because the great Glenn Fraldarius could never do no wrong. A golden child! The prodigy of House Fraldarius! The pride and joy of Faerghus!”
“You who were lucky enough to be born with a crest, how must it feel to stand above the rest of us? Skilled, revered, and praised by society?”
Miklan’s voice echoed in Glenn’s mind, as it has done ever since their argument.
Would I still be the same person I am, if I was born without a Crest? Would I still accomplish all that I have if I did not have a crest?
“Miklan was fine, father.” Glenn says instead, smiling despite the way the lie taste like ash on his tongue. “We caught up, and he congratulated me on my knighthood. We even had a friendly spar together. To test our skills.”
A kernel of truth to a lie makes the lie more believable. They did indeed have a spar, but it was not friendly nor was it a way to test their skills.
Still, his father seemed pleased by his answer and that was enough for Glenn. Neither father nor Felix need to see the doubt that is slowly engulfing his heart.
“I am glad to hear that, my son. Now!” His father clapped his hands together. “Let's head inside shall we?”
As they followed their father back inside, Glenn could feel Felix’s eyes on him, probing him, as if he could pry the answer from Glenn by sheer force of will. Glenn didn’t even turn to look in his direction, easily keeping his face smooth and his lips curved in a gentle, unassuming smile.
It was easy to keep up appearances during the day, to push away all doubts and feelings regarding Miklan, but during the night… a time when all is supposed to be silent, his mind is the loudest thing.
Miklan’s resentment and his own doubts vying to see who can be the loudest in the recess of his mind makes for fitful sleep.
And Glenn… Glenn tries to shut them out, but as he’s starting to find out his own mind is the greatest enemy he’s faced yet.
And he’s not completely sure he’ll be able to overcome it.