Chapter Text
Once every few years, the lords and ladies from duchies and kingdoms met with one another on neutral grounds, near the Forest Kingdom. They gathered to discuss trades, settles arguments, and leave the Meeting Point as stronger allies than before. For these lords remember how painful wars can be for the dead, but for the living also. Those who die leave a mark, whether it was their first, second or third death. The immediate surroundings are alerted of the death through a mental wave of negative feelings. It's enough to turn anyone insane during wartime. The Meeting Point was therefore an effective method to keep the peace in this cruel world, where mass death could literally overwhelm someone.
But this time, the lords weren't alone. Some brought their children.
It was a second part added to the meeting. If everything went well, these children would never know war and would continue the traditions started by their parents, meeting on these neutral grounds to keep the peace. But they were children now; war and fighting were games to play until they lost their innocence. Their parents stayed in the Tower of Peace and discussed matters the children did not need to worry about yet while some soldiers watched over the children.
Naturally, they got talking. Soon, they started to play with one another. After an hour of fun, they got along as if they've been friends all their lives, while some of them only met each other earlier today.
As the parents got down to business, the children retreated to the open space beneath the tower; the perfect place to let their fantasies loose and to solidify their newfound friendships, with minimal interference from the guards. Seven children – six boys and one girl – played pretend around the oldest son of the king of Dogwarts. And a seventh boy ran up to the group, coming from the tower.
“CLEO!” He yelled in a shrill voice that drew the attention. He ran to the group and looked at Cleo with wide eyes and a silly grin. “Cleo, my dad says we’re gonna get married when we’re older.”
Cleo watched the boy – Bdubs, from the Crastle. She glanced at him, from head to toe, judging him.
“Ew.”
The grin on his face faded, but it returned when the boys involved him in their games.
Ren had picked up a stick and proclaimed it was his battle sword, with which he could strike an enemy thrice, killing even green lives in one fell swoop. He wore a makeshift cape and to the children, through their imaginative lens, he might have even looked regal. Behind him stood his most fervent supporter, his younger brother Martyn, ever looking up to his older brother.
“All bow before the king!” Ren exclaimed, and Bdubs immediately dropped to his knees – as did one of the boys, the squire of a knight, who was more than certain to grow into a knight himself.
“Yes, my lord,” said that boy, named Skizz. He'd been standing next to his best friend, Impulse, who bent the knee as well. Ren watched and nodded approvingly at his subjects.
Martyn watched the small group with hawk eyes and pointed out the most timid boy.
“Aren’t you bowing?”
Joel wasn’t the only one who wasn’t bowing – Martyn only saw an easy victim for his feigned wrath. Joel shook his head, taking half a step backward.
“I’ll just watch, thanks,” Joel said.
Martyn decided to leave Joel alone and instead turned to the other boy who did not obey Ren’s order. “What about you?”
“I’m not bowing,” Jimmy said proudly, and he turned directly to Ren. “Why be a king and stuck inside all day when you can be a knight?” The life of a knight, with his heroic deeds, was much more appealing to the young Jimmy than being a king. His father barely had a sense of adventure, and Jimmy couldn’t wait to leave that castle and explore the world and be a hero.
“A king takes orders from no one,” Ren told him. “He gives them instead.”
“Cleo,” Martyn then shouted. “Bow down to the king!”
“I’d rather not,” she said curtly, staring at the boys. If the game progressed to go elsewhere, she might join – but she wouldn’t give Ren the pleasure of knowing he made Cleo bow for him one time.
As Martyn, Ren, Jimmy, and Joel argued about whether or not they should bow, Impulse started to get bored. To his left, he could see a stick. He took it in his hands and glanced at Skizz with mischievous eyes.
Skizz watched Impulse pick up the stick. He barely had time to react when the stick’s point poked him in his chest. Skizz rolled over, hand where the stick had hit him, and pretending to die.
“My lord, I’ve been hit!” Skizz exclaimed as Impulse got to his feet.
“Betrayal!” Ren shouted. “Get him!”
Suddenly, Impulse found himself in the middle of a 1v6. Skizz had gotten up and laughed loudly as Impulse was chased around by the others, stopping to get in fights and fleeing when others arrived and flanked him.
Impulse tripped and fell. Ren pinned him to the ground and they all started to laugh. The chase had been fun, even though Joel and Bdubs had decided halfway through to have a little sparring session among one another. Jimmy also stopped to laugh at Impulse on multiple occasions and throw insults at him – all in good fun.
Until someone came from the trees. The laughter died down. With curious and concerned eyes, they watched the tree line. The person was just a boy, like most of them, but he was different. He moved carefully, as if he was afraid to make a wrong move. Something was unsettling about him, but most couldn’t tell what unsettled them about this boy, who appeared shy and might have had to build up some courage to come here.
Ren took a step closer, electing himself as the spokesperson for the group towards the mysterious boy. He only had eyes for the new boy, who also only looked at Ren.
“Who is that?” Jimmy whispered, but nobody answered him. The tension was too high to break, and at long last, the boy opened his mouth.
“Can I play?” he asked in the most insecure tone. “I heard you play… can I join in?”
“No, Scar,” Ren said, without missing a beat. “You can’t.”
The boy – Scar – seemed genuinely heartbroken.
“B-but… Ren! We share a father! Won’t you let your brother play along?”
“Half-brother,” Ren emphasized. “Barely the good half.”
Ren was aware of the many conquests his father had made; they included peasant women, and sometimes there were consequences, coming nine months late. His father never made any attempts to legitimize the bastard children he produced, and thus Ren did not want anything to do with those children either.
So that might be what was so unsettling. If the light hit Scar’s face at the right angle, you could see the similarities between him and Ren. It was hard to deny they were related, and that could be what made them uncomfortable. But there was something else – something that had nothing to do with his heritage.
“His eyes are yellow,” Joel then said as the realization hit him. Scar’s eyes were already yellow - the tell-tale sign that someone was on their yellow life; their second life. While it wasn’t uncommon to lose their first life in childhood, it still creeped them all out to see someone their age with yellow eyes, as opposed to their own safe green eyes.
“Yes, Joel,” Ren said calmly. “That’s because he got killed by a Creeper.”
“Killed by a Creeper?” Bdubs exclaimed before bursting out in laughter. His laugh was infectious and everyone joined in at some point.
Scar tried to regain his composure. He could not show them any weakness. It was a sure way to make them laugh even more, and that was the last thing he needed right now.
“It was an accident!” Scar tried to defend himself. He pointed an accusatory finger at Ren. “It wouldn’t have happened if you—”
“If I, what?” Ren interrupted Scar. “You ran toward it.”
“You made me do it!”
“I never did such a thing,” Ren said. He denied his role in Scar’s death, but Scar could still see that moment before him.
“My brother isn’t as cruel as you are,” Martyn supported his brother.
Scar balled his fists, so tightly his nails almost left wounds in the palm of his hands. Anger rose within him, but reality also hit him. There was nothing he could do. He did nothing wrong. The yellow eyes weren’t even his work – Ren worked against him again. It was all Ren’s fault.
And Ren had seven others backing him up. Scar was alone.
He just wanted to play.
He relaxed, took a deep breath, and turned his glare to Ren.
“Fine. Then I won’t play,” Scar said. “But you’ll hear from me. You will hear from me.”
He sharply turned around and walked back into the forest. The last stretch he ran, to put distance between himself and the others. Most like to hide the tears; more fuel for the others to start laughing.
“What was his problem?” Jimmy wondered, breaking the tension.
“I don’t know,” Ren said, “but he’s gone now.”
The atmosphere was still a little tense, but after a few minutes, it was all forgotten. They continued to play as if nothing had happened. As if Scar hadn’t come and interrupted them earlier.
At one point, Skizz had lost sight of Impulse. He looked around, a thousand and one thoughts shooting through his mind – mostly negative, mostly doom scenarios. His mind and heart calmed down when he spotted his best friend again, standing close to one of the trees. Curiously, Skizz approached Impulse.
“Whatcha doing, homey buddy?”
“Carving my name into the tree,” Impulse said. He just finished the last letter of his name and then put his hand on the wood. “They remember, you know. If I carve my name here and come across it later, I’ll surely remember today.”
“Sweet!” Skizz said. “May I?”
Impulse lent Skizz his knife and watched him carve his name – short, with a lot of straight lines, right next to Impulse’s. He gave Impulse’s knife back.
“That looks great,” Impulse said.
“It sure does,” Skizz nodded. Then, he got an idea. He yelled at the group of six, a little further away. “Hey, guys, come carve your names in the tree!”
They all rushed to the tree. Ren demanded to be the first to do so, then handed the knife to Martyn. Jimmy and Bdubs fought over who got to go next whereas Cleo and Joel patiently waited. Joel let Cleo use the knife first, making him the last to carve his name.
Eight names carved into a tree – some looking smoother and cleaner than others, some taller, others tinier. But all names were there; everyone was represented on the trunk, which would carry their names for decades, if not centuries to come.
“To the beginning of a great friendship,” Ren said, and the others agreed.
Hidden between the trees, Scar watched them carve their names in the tree, and he wished he could join them.