The sound of clashing swords could be heard down the hall where the sparring room was situated.
Grunts and footsteps accompanied them every now and then and sometimes they'd fall into silence and then pick up again.
When you'd walk in, you could see shades of purple and red dashing around in what seemed almost like a dance.
The boys sparring didn't even notice a tall and skinny figure that entered the big room and observed them.
The first warrior with a red velvety sash launched himself at his opponent which was on the opposite side of the hall now.
The purple belted man wasted no time and gave out a battle cry, lifting his sword as he, too, started running towards his sparring partner.
The sound bounced off the stone walls as their swords clashed again and resulted in yet another echo.
The red one took the advantage of his opponents strength, using it against him,
making the other fall forward by quickly stepping backward and tapping the purple ones back with the back of his sword,
which resulted in the purple one to fall on his knees and hands with a grunt, but quickly turning around to face him, swinging his sword at the others' face and missing him by an inch.
The red one dodged it, losing his balance in the process and falling backward, onto the floor, followed by a thud and the clashing of the sword that he lost his grip on.
He quickly regained his focus and looked up at the purple one, who was already standing firmly on the floor and launched himself at him with unbelievable speed.
But the red warrior grabbed the others' shoulders, placed his right leg on his stomach and threw him over his head, turning quickly after, grabbing his sword and jumping onto him,
his knees at both of the purple one's sides, locking him in between him and the floor.
Both panted heavily and after a moment of silence, the top one got closer to the others' face and couldn't help but grin and say: “Not one of your best moves, brother, I have to say.
You hold yourself back too much.” making the other one groan while trying to push him away, finding his efforts to be futile, since the other has always been stronger than him.
The figure that has been observing the whole thing held itself high and cleared their throat as to gain their attention.
The voices ceased and silence followed, as both men turned their heads, following the source of the voice.
“Mr. Charles!” exclaimed the boy in the red sash dramatically, with a grin still on his face, but still not getting up from the defeated opponent.
Charles straightened his back and placed both his hands behind it.
“The King requests your presence, Prince Roman. It is of utmost importance that you join him in the Throne room immediately.”
Prince Roman got off his brother at that instant and held out a hand to help him up, the boy accepting it and rising from the ground, dusting himself off.
I shall go straightaway,” Roman said, putting away his sword, grabbing his scarlet red cloak which was resting on the stand and while putting it on, he turned his head to look at his brother,
who had a noticeable frown covering his face, even though he was mostly looking at the ground and he knew exactly what the issue was: “Hey,” he said, catching the boy's attention,
making him lift his head to look at him, but before he could look up entirely, Roman caught his head beneath his arm and gave him a noogie, laughing all the way through: “Come on, Virge,
stop being so gloomy! It's standard that I'm better at these things, so stop complaining!
” he teased and the locked brother let out a groan mixed with a chuckle while pushing Roman away and freeing himself, fixing his hair to fall back over one of his eyes.
Virgil watched Roman follow Charles out of the sparring room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And he hated being alone with his thoughts. Cause Roman was right.
He was always better than him in combat...and winning people's hearts... and charming them... and completing quests... just... everything. He couldn't help but feel useless at that moment.
But it annoyed the heck out of him too. Roman thinking he's better than everyone else...
he wanted to prove him wrong, but his efforts were futile since Roman was obsessed with training and his ego, never giving in, never yielding. Virgil found it frustrating.
But he pushed it away, knowing it won't solve anything.
He released the fist he didn't even realize he was tightening and took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, picking up his sword off the ground and putting it away,
grabbing his own dark purple cloak, then took his leave as well.
He rounded the corner and saw shades of white and blue that belonged to his third brother, Prince Patton walking down the hall. Crap.
He really couldn't handle Patton right now,
so he turned around to go back and wait until he leaves but it was already too late for his older brother had already spotted and greeted him with a cheerful tone in his voice.
“Oh hi, Virgil! I just saw Roman pass through here with Charles as well, were you two sparring again?”
Virgil wasn't in the mood for Patton's energy, so he just nodded, hoping he would leave him alone after that.
But Patton has always been an observant individual, especially when it came to noticing emotions.
He also knew Virgil was a held-back and quiet person, but in all 20 years they've been brothers, he learned what certain kinds of silences meant, so he felt like he should ask.
“Is something bothering you, buddy?”
Crap. Of course, Patton noticed, Virgil thought and cursed at himself for being so easy to read sometimes.
“Nothing. I'm fine,” he mumbled and resumed to walk past his brother, without looking up from the ground.
Patton let him pass but still had his eyes fixed on his brother, with a worried expression on his face.
Now he was sure something wasn't right, but he didn't want to push further, knowing that Virgil probably just needs time and will come to him when he needs it.
So he just shook his head for now and continued to walk in the opposite direction.
Virgil entered his room and closed the door, locking it afterward. He took a look around and then flopped on the bed, stretching his arms to the sides and stared at the ceiling.
The sun was rising slowly and it filled the room with warm golden light, making his purple covers on the bed look like they were brown and illuminating his painting stand on the other side,
shining on an unfinished painting standing on it. He had trouble finishing it, for it has been standing there, unfinished, for a few days now.
But it wasn't the painting's fault, he had a difficult time with finishing one particular detail on it, making it almost impossible to finish.
A frustrated growl escaped his throat as he rubbed both of his hands against his face and let them stay there for a minute.
He then figured it's best to leave the painting for later and go get some breakfast because Roman was so insistent on training before the morning light that he hadn't even had the time
to eat properly yet. His servant would be here any minute with a full tray anyway, he thought, so he wouldn't even have enough peace to continue with his work on the stand.
And just as he finished that thought, there was a signature knock on the door from his servant.