Her brother was something of a mystery at times. He was fit and quite athletic, but had a softer side about him that drew the man away from the more violent pursuits of his brothers. Of the three, she had always gotten along with Arren the most. Luthier the eldest, was almost ten years older than her. He was a very strong and noble man, their father had loved him the most and taught him everything that he knew about swordsmanship. Alia knew that Bjorus had always hoped Luthier would establish himself as a swordsman of renown and then take over the family business. Luthier was a very charismatic man and had been engaged to a daughter of House Mandrell before his death. It was as though Bjorus had invested all of his hope for the family in his eldest son, and when Luthier was killed their father gave up trying to reclaim the fallen honor of a noble house of Danmeir. Before Luthier's death, the middle son Brennet had practically idolized Luthier. As children they were inseparable, always sparring and planning what they would do when they became sword masters. Although Luthier had excelled in everything that Brennet did, he made sure that Brennet had felt as though his place in the family was important. Luthier had promised Brennet that when he was head of the family they would have guards and Brennet would be their captain, or even the captain of the Couatl if he liked. Unfortunately their childhood dreams were just that, dreams. When Luthier was killed, Brennet swore that he would kill the man who slew him, and devoted his life to fencing since that day.
Alia just wished that the family would forget it's heritage as swordsmen. It seemed to bring nothing but pain, suffering, and an undeserved pride. As far as Alia was concerned, she found more pride in the success of their trade business, they now owned three ships and were commissioning a fourth. The Illiathan family was finally able to live the lives that they deserved, that they were born into, even after the mages took away titles all those years ago.
Alia sighed and went back to washing the laundry in the wash basin. She took out the first white shirt that was brown at the cuffs and yellow under the arms. Brennet always sweated so much. All that sword practice just meant more work for her, but sweat stains were better than when the clumsy fool actually cut himself. Did the man not know which end of the sword to hold? She scrubbed the white linen shirt against the washboard in the perpetual motion of one who's done it a thousand times, when Alia looked up to the sounds of a commotion in the streets. There was usually very little happening in the streets at this time of the day, still early morning. She set down the shirt on the rim of the wash basin and shielded her eyes against the low morning sun.
"Alia!" It was Arren's voice.
Alia's heart dropped into her stomach. In front of a small crowd of people was her brother. Just a silhouette against the opening of the gate. Draped over his shoulder like a burlap sack of grain was a person. She had seen this two years ago when Brennet had stumbled across the threshold of the Illiathan estate, under it's meagre gateway bearing the body of Luthier. Alia forgot about the laundry or the stains on her brother's shirt and lifted her skirts running toward Arren.
As she drew closer, Alia made out the clothing on the body across Arren's shoulder. Green trousers and blue socks. Brennet's favorite clothes, the ones that went best with his blue dueling coat. Arren stumbled and dropped the body at her feet. Brennet's face was pale as a ghost and she knew that her brother was with Gharlamaal in the kingdom of the dead. There was a wicked slash across Brennet's chest, and a buckler still strapped to his arm. Her brother had died like his brother before him. Was this the curse of the Illiathan family? She looked up at Arren, he seemed to have been doused in blood, his face pale and eyes distant. She noticed that gripped in his left hand was Brennet's dueling sword, it too was covered in blood.
"What happened Arren?" She asked, fearing the answer.
"He took a challenge from Virgo Vex Alia. And would have won too, but the bastard was using his magecraft sword and cloak." Arren cringed as though the words themselves caused pain. Reaching out, Alia took Arren's in her own. It was then that Alia realized not all of the blood covering her brother was Brennet's. Arren had a wound in his left side that had expelled much blood.
"Did he turn on you." asked Alia.
"No, I was a fool and challenged him. There was so much anger inside of me, I took up his sword, said our oath and swung. I nearly cut him in two Alia." he had the look of one who had never used a sword, his simple merchant's clothes and soft, kind face, but Alia knew that even Arren was dangerous with a blade.
"You know what that means right?" Alia asked.
"I'm a dead man." exhaled Arren, hope gone from his eyes.
"No, you're the the best man that I know. You're leaving this place Arren. I know that they'll seek revenge against you. They'll even use the mages, but you're smart, keep moving and never stop, practice like Luthier and Brennet so that next time they find you, they'll wish that they hadn't." Alia couldn't believe what she was saying. What would the family do without him?
"I can't just leave you, mother and father can't run the business without me!" Arren was excited, he always got this way when he knew he was wrong.
"You can and you will, they can't take revenge on the family, only you, but you know that they'll kill you if you stay here Arren. Come back when you're ready to face them, when you know that you can win." Alia reached down and took the ring off of Brennet's hand. He had been given the family signet ring as it's eldest and heir. Now, that position was passed to Arren. She put it on Arren's trembling hand. "Just promise me that you'll come back, I can't loose my only brother."
"What about mother and father?" Arren asked.
"I can tell them. They'd just want you to be safe." Alia dreaded waking them up with such news.
DONG! DONG!
The sound of the dock bells. The Vex family must have just found out that their son was dead, bereavement would soon be followed by revenge.
"Leave Arren." Alia made her voice sound as strong as she could. She reached into her belt pouch and gave him the few silver crowns that she kept on her coin ring. "Find the next caravan and leave, They'll look for you on sea."
Alia unclasped Brennet's sword belt and buckler and shoved them into Arren's arms. "I'll write you sister, I promise."
"I know. I love you Arren, I'll take care of everything." she hoped that she really could.
With a long embrace, Arren turned around and ran at a limping pace. She hoped he would have the sense to see a cleric before he left town, the Illiathan men were so stubborn. They would die of infection before appearing weak. Luckily Arren was the smartest of her siblings. And in truth, that was saying quite a bit. She looked down at her dead brother before her and realized that there were no tears yet. She had always expected Brennet would meet his end before old age found him, it was terrible to be right. She turned toward the small double doors of the modest family manor and walked for what seemed like ages until she reached them. Would she be the last of her family? No. When Arren returned, he would be the greatest Illiathan that ever lived. She had to believe that, or else he was a dead man.
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