by Leon Logos
“She’s ill, don’t be rude,” Serenity reproached.
“Shut up, what do you know about it?” he sneered.
“I’ve been with her longer than any of you,” Serenity asserted. “She may seem weird to you all, but she’s old. Old people can be strange.”
“Batshit crazy, that’s what I just said,” Cackle nodded.
Over the past couple of days, Helena had continued to exhibit more signs of her illness and eccentric tendencies. Whether it was staring off into space during entire mealtimes, stroking the walls, spacing out mid-conversation, or hyperventilating at random. She understood what Cackle was saying, but surely it was completely normal? Elderly people were frail, feeble, and fragile physically and mentally. At times, she had advised Patrick to consult a doctor, but he waved her off, reassuring her that Helena was all right and that the “medicine” was working. The precise illness that afflicted Helena was still unknown to her, as Patrick would just dodge the question intentionally and refuse to answer clearly. Nonetheless, the old woman was still gracious and kind to her at all times. Serenity pitied her, hoping that she wasn’t suffering too much and that she’d recover very soon. They both continued to work together in the kitchen, along with the housework. Despite this, she still had time to roam around the house and go outside. Since there was absolutely nothing to do in the house, she accompanied the brothers whenever they went out into the forest. Her presence with them was pointless, but they disregarded it entirely (to her contentment).
“I don’t think we need help from an old man,” said Kyler, tossing firewood onto his mountainous pile. “I do wonder what he’s doing, though.”
“Just work,” Desmos told them. “Won’t be long before Father comes back. Besides, this place isn’t as bad as you all are making it.”
“Let’s just leave!” said Cackle derisively.
“Shut up and chop,” Desmos said forcefully, tired of hearing Cackle’s perpetual whining and complaining.
At the end of their wood splitting session, training came next—but not for all of them. Desmos didn’t force her to participate for two reasons: wood chopping was a workout in itself, and now wasn’t even the ideal time to be training. There was nothing left for them to do after collecting firewood, and the brothers couldn’t sit around idly; they had to train—it was engineered into their DNA.
She sat on a log in the yard, next to Kyler, who reluctantly exempted himself from training due to his injured arm, which had been shot a few days ago. It had recovered for the most part but still wasn’t at 100%. They watched as Agno and Garen sparred with melee weapons. Spears or staffs were unavailable, so they simply used long sticks instead, smoothing out the edges and polishing them to be straight.
Agno whipped around like a contemporary dancer, swinging the stick over his head towards Garen, who arched his back just in time to avoid being whacked in the face. Agno wasted no time, rearing back to swing again with an overhead strike. Garen easily parried the blow and lunged forward as if the stick was a spear. Jabbed in the ribs, Agno fell to his knees. Garen finished him with a downward strike, standing over him haughtily.
“That’s what you get, doing all that fancy shi—” Garen said proudly.
Agno suddenly swept the off-guard Garen with a low kick, tripping him to the ground with a thud. Agno bounded to his feet, fast as a cheetah, pointing the end of his stick at Garen’s neck.
“Who’s the bitch now?” Agno smirked.
Livid, Garen snatched the stick from his pompous brother, disarming him, and simultaneously springing to his feet. For someone so large, Garen was remarkably nimble. He snapped the stick in two with his knee and rushed forward at Agno, who charged back without fear. The two of them got into a scuffle, each trying to knock out the other with their fists. Desmos didn’t try to stop them, waiting for a victor.
They all knew who the winner would be, of course; only Desmos was capable of defeating Garen. But she had to give credit to Agno. He put up a decent fight, drawing blood out of Garen and even knocking a tooth out. However, Agno ended up even worse; his face was completely bloodied and bruised, his cheeks were swelled up, his nose was broken, and his left eye was blackened. Although he was in this condition, Garen continued to pummel him. It was now when Desmos had to intervene, assisted by Cackle. They pulled Garen off of Agno. After a single glimpse of Agno’s face, Cackle snorted into hysterical laughter, like a hyena.
“Yo, look at his face! This man looks like a goblin!”
Agno sat upright, spitting out blood, and obstructing the red rivulet flowing down his broken nose with his hand. Serenity watched from afar, slightly concerned. He looked in bad shape, extremely battered, but Agno composedly got to his feet, ambling back towards the house. All of them knew how to take beatings, but their endurance and pain tolerance levels varied.
“Garen really hates Agno,” Serenity said.
“Even more than Desmos,” Kyler said inexpressively.
“Why does he even try and fight? He knows he’s going to lose.”
Kyler looked at her blankly.
“Are you stupid? Didn’t you try and fight when you were faced with him?” he asked, mildly irked at her comment.
“Only because Father was watching me,” Serenity said candidly. “Of course, I knew I had no chance. Honestly, I’m glad he knocked me out cold. Otherwise, I probably would’ve ended up like Agno.”
“You fought because you didn’t want Father to think you were a coward,” said Kyler. “Besides you, none of us are cowards. We don’t run from fights; that’s just how it is, and you know it.”
“Sorry if I believe logic is more important than pride,” she shrugged.
“Better to die a man rather than a wimp.”
“Better to not die at all,” she disproved. “Anyway, you believe it too. I’m glad you’re sitting this one out, rather than being an idiot and potentially worsening the state of your shoulder.”
“It’s your fault it’s the way it is,” he said coldly.
She shut up at this statement, guiltily accepting culpability.
“I’m kidding,” he said, upon noticing the solemn look on her face.
“Whatever…” she brooded.
Cackle finally desisted his laughter, sparring with Desmos. Cackle’s facility with weaponry was indisputable. Regardless, he lost within seconds against the athletically-preeminent, merciless eldest brother.
“I’m sure sharing a room with him is fun,” said Kyler.
“I try not to talk to him as much as possible,” said Serenity. “Anything I say, he just pounces on me for no reason. I’m glad we’re in sleeping bags because we don’t have to share a blanket.”
They had found the sleeping bags in the closet downstairs. How or why they were there was a mystery. It wasn’t like the old couple went camping.
“And speaking of sleep,” Serenity said, her tone shifting, “have you, like, heard anything? In the middle of the night?”
“I can hear Garen’s snoring through the walls,” he said flatly. “No, that’s not what I mean. Like, weird noises? Sounds?”
“Not really…why?”
“I don’t know, it’s probably just nothing. Forget it.”
At 1:00 PM, they retreated inside as it started to rain. Training under rainfall was common with their regimen, but then they wouldn’t be allowed to enter the house until they were dry. Patrick had explicitly told them not to come in soaked, muddy, or grimy. Inside the house, there was nothing much to do. Patrick had actually left a short, scrawled note on the kitchen table, which nobody seemed to realize before:
Helena and I have gone for a walk in the forest. Won’t be back till midday. Behave and don’t touch anything or snoop around.
Once she finished reading it only once, Cackle snatched it from her. After a single reading, Cackle’s mischievous broad smile manifested. She knew this was his scheming face. Knowing he was up to no good, she snatched the note back.
“What are you planning?” she
asked warily.
Garen, Agno, and Kyler entered the kitchen. Immediately, he informed them of the note and the couple’s whereabouts. The three brothers instantly knew where this was headed, aware of Cackle’s propensity to mischief. Agno, who was dabbing his face with a makeshift icepack, looked back carefully, watching out for Desmos.
“What are you planning?” he said, coincidentally repeating what she had asked. “Whatever it is, I’m in. This place is boring.”
“How about you two?” Cackle asked, at Garen and Kyler.
“I’m in,” Garen said, nodding.
Kyler simply shrugged, indicating his ambivalence. He wasn’t necessarily in but wouldn’t snitch either.
“You know the attic? I say we go up into that place and search it,” Cackle grinned. “This guy wants to hide something from us? Not today.”
Serenity instantly objected.
“No, we need to respect their privacy! And besides, what if it’s out-of-bounds for our own good? Maybe there’s mold or something—”
“She has a good point, I can’t lie,” Agno said rationally.
“If there’s mold, count me out. I’m not getting sick here.”
“All right, we got one coward,” Cackle said indifferently. “Do we got another? Garen or Kyler?”
“I say, you go up first,” Kyler suggested. “Check if it’s safe, then we’ll follow through if there aren’t any hazards.”
“Fine then,” Cackle said. “Let’s go, but act natural, so Desmos doesn’t catch onto us. I doubt he’ll be happy.”
Serenity watched as the others strode out of the kitchen. She was completely against this for many reasons, but what could she do? If she told on them, they’d make her life a living hell. But she wasn’t a snitch to begin with, so tattling wasn’t an option. Patrick had sternly declared that the attic was off-limits on their first day. Now, they were breaking the rules blatantly. She reluctantly accompanied the brothers, following them through the living room and up the stairs. Desmos was nowhere in sight. Conversing casually, they hung around the loft, eyeing the attic door above them furtively. The bathroom door was locked; Desmos was apparently in there taking a bath. Once they realized this, Garen hopped only twenty inches off the ground to pull down the attic door. A ladder revealed itself. He pulled the ladder down to its full erect length.
Cackle climbed up first, stopping when his upper body was inside. He looked around for ten seconds, analyzing the surroundings with the flashlight he had. They watched from below, awaiting his analysis. He then clambered into the attic, signaling it was safe for them to proceed. Garen went right after. She thought the ladder would break, overwhelmed by the weight of over two-hundred pounds. Fortunately, it didn’t. She hesitated, looking back at the bathroom door. Desmos never took too long taking showers or baths. This had to be quick. She climbed up the ladder, hoisting herself into the attic.
The musty air immediately got to her, making her cough strongly. It would’ve been pitch black if not for the light Cackle had, which illuminated half the area. Also, the attic was larger than she had imagined; the ceiling was high enough for her to stand up to her maximum height, the top of her head just a centimeter from the ceiling. The others had to crouch down and hunch their backs to move around—especially Garen—who was on his knees. Dust coated the wooden floors and walls, and cobwebs trimmed the ceiling. It was evident that nobody had been here in ages. A pungent smell pervaded the attic, unpleasantly giving off an indescribable odor.
“Shine your light on this,” Garen said.
Cackle spun around and did so, revealing a rickety barrel. There were foreign markings engraved onto it. Serenity couldn’t take it anymore; she felt suffocated in here, and her skin was already moist. The temperature was stifling hot, compounding the torment.
“I can’t stay here any longer,” she breathed. “Let’s go down.”
“You go!” Cackle hissed. “Be our lookout.”
Without indecision, she quickly descended down the ladder and back onto the loft of the second floor. The bathroom door was still shut, indicating Desmos was still in there. Although she hadn’t seen much, she didn’t understand why the place was forbidden. Clearly, neither Patrick nor Helena had been in there in for quite some time. Most likely, they used it for storage, considering all the crates and barrels. She was half-expecting to find a corpse in there, or even rats.
Without any intimation, the knob of the bathroom door twisted, and the entire door swung open. She gulped, taking a few steps back. Desmos, who was fully clothed, dirty clothes in hand, stared at her and the ladder wordlessly. Slowly, the inexpression on his face became clouded with suspicion. As the eldest, it was a natural instinct to detect mischief.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“I-it wasn’t my idea—they wanted to do it,” she stammered fearfully, pointing upwards with her shaking index finger.
Desmos approached her silently, looking up at the attic.
“Get the hell down!” he yelled.
An indistinct, “Oh, shit!” responded. Seconds later, Kyler popped his head down at them; as usual, he was expressionless. He was the first to come down, followed by Cackle, Garen, and Agno.
“Well, that didn’t last very long,” Agno chortled.
“You were supposed to be a lookout,” Garen scorned at her.
“You have five seconds to give me a reasonable explanation justifying this trespassing,” Desmos ordered. “Five, four—”
“What do you make of this?” Cackle asked, containing his excitement.
He extended his forearm, handing Desmos a rusty curved dagger. The hilt was silver and encrusted with an intricate patterning, and the edge of the blade was dull due to neglect and age. They all crowded around it. Desmos took one look at it and he was finished.
“You found this up there?” he asked.
“Yep,” Cackle nodded. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?”
“Did you know this would be up there?”
“No, but I knew I’d find something,” Cackle grinned. “If you let us look further, I bet we can find some other shit.”
“We’re home!” Patrick’s booming voice called, from downstairs.
Alarmed, Garen speedily, but gingerly, closed the attic door and receded the ladder. Desmos whisked away the knife to his room and hid it. The others dispersed, heading into their rooms. Serenity leaned against the railing, looking down. Patrick was repeatedly calling for them.
“We’re up here!” she shouted.
Patrick lumbered into view, folding his umbrella and looking up at her; his coat was semi-soaked.
“Christ, it started pouring while we were on our way back,” he chuckled. “What have you children been up to?”
“Nothing much,” she said, pursing her lips. “It started raining, so we had to come inside. How was the walk?”
“Excluding the rain, it was wonderful. Come down for lunch in thirty minutes. Helena will prepare us some scrumptious ham & cheese sandwiches,” Patrick said cheerfully.
She smiled, nodding. As Patrick walked out of view, she turned around and headed into her and Cackle’s room. Desmos was in there, interrogating Cackle. She listened attentively, wondering what was going on.
“The dagger was all I found,” Cackle urged. “Let’s sneak up one more time and find some more stuff! Trust me, man!”
“No, you’re not to go up there again,” said Desmos forcefully.
“But it’s obvious he was hiding this!” Cackle said stubbornly. “Bro, I know you’re just as suspicious as I am.”
“Leave it alone, man,” Desmos reaffirmed. “If I catch you guys up there again, you won’t be coming down. I assure you that.”
“What’s with the dagger?” she asked.
“Aurelian handiwork,” Cackle replied.
So the dagger belonged to an Aurelian. Clearly, Cackle was insinuating that Patrick was an enemy, affiliated with Aurelians. As wild as it sounded, perhaps an Aurelian himself? But there
could’ve been a multitude of other reasons why this dagger was up there, and Desmos understood this. Cackle was quick to jump to conclusions.
“Father would never ally with an Aurelian or anyone of Aurelian association; it’s ridiculous that you’d assume that he’s one of them.”
“Whatever, dude,” Cackle gave up, throwing his hands in the air. “I guess it’s been too long since we busted some Aurelian heads.”
But she wasn’t too sure that Cackle was convinced. Suspicion would undoubtedly linger in the back of his head. There was little chance he would really give this up. However, if he did chance another risky attempt at breaking the rules, she would definitively not be involved that time around.
The sandwiches they were served for lunch were plainly what Patrick had told her: ham & cheese sandwiches. Nothing about them was extraordinary; on the contrary, they were rancid, and they pretended to enjoy them. Again, she wondered where they got the ham and cheese. The refrigerator was full of dairy products, vegetables, and fruits. Agno questioned Patrick on the matter. He told them somebody would come to their house to help them restock on foods once a month. When asked who, Patrick merely said, “A family friend.” It wasn’t relevant, so they didn’t dig deep. The topic of conversation shifted to Gunther.
“No word from your father yet, eh?” Patrick asked, lighting a cigar.
“No, but he should be back soon,” Desmos said, untroubled.
“And what gives you that impression?”
“Just a feeling…”
Serenity rolled her eyes. Desmos didn’t know anything. He was just as clueless about Gunther’s whereabouts as the rest of them.
It continued to rain for the rest of the day, inhibiting them from going outside again. Patrick attempted to entertain them through chess, bringing out an antiquated chess board with dusty pieces. They played on the coffee table, in the center of the living room mat. Of them all, only herself, Agno and Kyler knew how to play. The rest of them never learned, or rather never got a chance to play. Gunther never introduced them to board games during their childhood; in fact, the vast majority of what they did learn (besides fighting and combat) was through school-season and exploration in the outside world. She observed a game between Kyler and Agno, enthralled. Patrick had retired to bed just earlier. As peculiar as it was, the couple’s bedroom was actually in the basement. Two days ago, Patrick made an addition to the house rules: the basement, like the attic, was also off-limits. She was uncertain why he didn’t just tell them from the start.
