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I watched as Alek Gwilym sparred with my brother and it baffled me how like two dancers the two of them were in practice. I never thought particularly of the grace of combat, but something about the way they feinted and parried under the midafternoon sun was mesmerizing. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on Alek’s skin and I must admit that until now, I had never seen him perspire during a mere practice. Rahadin, for his part, seemed unbothered by the summer sun or by the labor of battle, even a staged one, such as this. I admired him as a warrior, of course. He was my brother and all von Zaroviches were blessed with quick reflexes and raw power, but there was something feline about Rahadin that I always surmised must have been to do with his elven heritage, for though I called him my brother, I did so largely at my father’s insistence at first and late, habit. I would think that the elven whelp he found in the woods some fifteen years before my birth was his favorite child, were it not I upon whom the crown now rested. I was, of course, the better tactician, but Rahadin had been my father’s weapon, as he was now mine. I admired him no more than one did a fine blade or an easily-steered horse. Alek, however, was a beautiful sight, tawny hair only faintly streaked with silver, slick against his scalp with sweat, and powerfully built in a way Rahadin’s slender build could never rival. The three of us traveled on many campaigns together. Admittedly, I did not understand why my father had not risked his eldest in the waging of wars, instead, he first trained Rahadin to be my bodyguard, but it seemed his mistake was my gain. He came second only to Alek in skill and first in loyalty. Watching them spar now, however, was as watching a mastiff savage a greyhound, who slipped away from biting jaws. It pleased me to know that like dogs, they fawned upon me and heeded my command.
It happened in a flash, though, that the greyhound did bare his teeth as, without warning, the flash of Rahadin’s steel stopped just short of Alek’s jaw.
“Peace!” I cried.
Though Alek may have been one of my most loyal dogs, he did not deserve to die like one. I rose from my seat, hands upheld and approaching the pair of them swiftly. Even at knifepoint, Alek smiled, chest heaving from exertion. Rahadin did not return the smile, but for the fleetest moment, he cocked his head and searched Alek’s face. I realized then that Alek’s smile, and then his laugh, were reserved for Rahadin’s pointed ears only. Approval. Rahadin uncoiled and sheathed the knife. I do not believe either of us had seen him pull. He then turned his brown eyes to me, serious again, and he bowed deeply.
“Forgive me, brother,” Rahadin said. All his years at my father’s court had taught him manners but never stamped out the melodic accent of his voice. It bothered me to hear it now, smooth and without shortness of breath, as did his smooth, nut-brown skin and unlined face. Should not a man at least fifteen years my senior be wearier from battle with my best soldier? “You must know that I would never harm General Gwylim unless it was upon your order.”
“My order?” I echoed. “And why would I order harm to be done to him?”
Rahadin spread his palms wide. Shrugging, he met my gaze.
“I pray to all the gods in the Seladrine you never ask that of me,” he said. I frowned. The Seladrine! Even all these years had not made my brother worship the gods of men. “He has been my favorite mentor and I think I still have much to learn from him.”
Mentor! What a thin, impossible lie! If Rahadin was fifteen years my senior, then he must have been twenty years older than Alek. I made a violent sign and commanded Rahadin to leave us. Only then did Alek turn his blue-gray eyes on me. He stopped panting and he wiped his brow with a handkerchief.
“Are you hurt?” I asked Alek only when certain we were alone. “He could have killed you.”
“He could have and I must admit that I am impressed.”
“Impressed!” I scoffed. “Did you see him pull the knife?”
“I should have expected it,” Alek admitted. “But I did not see. Did you?”
I had not, of course, but it would not do to tell Alek that. Perhaps he would think my eyesight was failing or that I, like he himself, was getting slow in my middle years. I had never thought of Alek as slow before. The man moved swiftly, deftly, and brutally. Besides his deep devotion to me, there were reasons he was my chief counselor and most trusted general. We walked from the tents, towards a river that flowed nearby, where our troops had gathered water in the last weeks. Alek stripped away his armor and then his shirt with the immodesty of a hardened soldier. I watched him kneel to wash and scrub his face. Droplets of water trickled down his neck and chest and it confused me that a man who had so nearly died would make himself vulnerable to his displeased lord. I towered over his crouched frame, awaiting an explanation. Alek turned his eyes skyward and let out a long-held breath.
“One day, the boy will be better than me, Strahd,” he said at long last, carding his fingers through his mane of hair. "I think the day has almost come.”
I looked at Alek Gwilym, puzzled. The boy? Sergei? What did he have to do with today’s sparring round, when it was Rahadin who had very nearly murdered my general? Sergei? He only just began to travel with us and was in awe of all that he saw. No doubt Sergei, with his soft heart, was comforting Rahadin or with his rounded eyes congratulating him on a match well won. Sergei? The boy was talented with a sword, but he was training for the priesthood and no priest could best my general and steward, even as he and I advanced together into middle-age. As if he could read my thoughts, Alek smiled and shook his head.
“Rahadin,” he said, the Elvish name flowing off his name easily. I frowned.
“Rahadin must be twenty years your senior,” I said. “Clearly you are mistaken. He is more of an old man than a boy.”
“Strahd,” he said my name with that patronizing patience only he could use on me and live to see sun-up. “Surely you know at least a little of the elves and their culture.”
I was versed in many cultures, but the elves were a mystery to me. The story went that my father, King Barov, brought a half-wild, half-savage elf child home from a campaign against the Dusk Elf people. Only the gods could say why he had taken pity on Rahadin; my adopted brother would not say and Father was dead. It would be such a trifling question to ask Lady Ilona to pose to my father’s spirit. Rahadin was a pitiless man, stern and slow to laughter and even slower to trust. For many years, he had served with Alek Gwilym, but to think that he would ever be Alek’s equal? Impossible.
“The Elves base their leadership on magic,” I said flatly. “My brother was never a leader. I know he came into magic only when he became a von Zarovich.”
“Your brother is still a child. May the gods help us all if he further develops that magical ability. He’s already a frightening force on the battlefield.”
That I knew. I was proud he wore the Von Zarovich name and brought it glory. But a child? I had been a child with him - how was it that Rahadin was a child still. Elves, I knew, were long-lived. Father once said that Rahadin had killed his people’s mage-king and that the elven king Rahadin slew had been over six hundred years old, but I always supposed it was an exaggeration. Then again, I also knew that Rahadin had long seemed a man of twenty and that once that had seemed so old to me. Now, I understood. At sixty, Rahadin was one-tenth the age of a king and though he was my older brother, I must have been his senior by at least as much. My stomach churned. How long would he look so young, be so young? Time marched relentlessly across the lines of my face, though I was still quite handsome. Time had frozen Rahadin in the prime of youth and would preserve him thus for centuries to come. Why, for an Elf, he truly was still a child. My stomach soured, thinking suddenly on the many times I had called him weak or pushed him to limits that a man of thirty would surely have not matched. How many men had my Elf brother killed, all by the same comparable age when most humans still had their first teeth? Had my father known, when taking in the Elf child, that Rahadin would outlive his natural spawn?. I very suddenly and very clearly imagined Rahadin would one day hold Alek’s rank, but could not imagine under what king he might serve. I had no progeny by choice - the very thought made my skin crawl. Would he serve Sturm one day? Or would he, the thought seized me by the throat, rule one day in my stead?
“When he reaches middle age, we will be long dead, Strahd. And when he reaches my skill level, my own life will live on only in his memory.”
“Do not speak so cavalierly of your death, Lord Gwilym,” I said, for talk of his own death made me fear my own mortality greatly. “Besides, it is much too bold to assume any soldier, even one that by luck nearly bested you, will live to see middle age.”
“As soldiers go, you and I are old men,” he agreed as if relishing my displeasure. “Rahadin has a knack for survival.”
I made no comment. Alek groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He met my eyes and I fought to keep them stern and disapproving. Half of Alek’s mouth twisted into a smile as if he had a secret. I knew him well enough by now to know that if there was a secret to be kept, I was the one person from who he could not hide it. When we were young, he’d been quite the eager gossip, but now he trusted his secrets only to his king. I had a right to them, did I not? I lacked patience for his games.
“He has a few more years to learn my art for espionage,” he said. “And perhaps that is the one place he will never surpass me. He has quiet feet and can blend into the shadows as the best assassin, but surely you have not overlooked his biggest handicap besides his age.”
“Alek…”
“I hear strange things about the elf King Barov took under his wing. Never from the elf in question, of course. Your brother is nothing if not tight-lipped.”
“Alek…”
“Are the rumors true? That he killed the Dusk Elf king when he was a child?”
I shrugged with one flourished arm. “If you mean to say that he has a record for killing kings, I will remind you he was on the campaign trail with us when Father died. And if you mean to imply that he will one day kill me…”
“I mean to imply that he is a Dusk Elf fugitive in a human king’s court,” Alek said. “And that as long as you keep him at your side, your relations with the Elves will be tense. Even your relations with other humans are made more difficult by his lineage. The Dilysnyas, the Wachters, all the old families wonder why an Elf ranks higher than they in your court.”
“Rahadin has proven his loyalty to me,” I said. I paused. “When I was a babe, I had a nursemaid seek to poison me. Did you know that it was Rahadin who caught her in the act and who escorted her from my parents’ keep?”
“It does not surprise me. There is no one he loves more than you, Strahd.”
Love. I sneered. Alek grimaced and bent to pick up his shed clothing. I had a surplus of brothers’ love. I wanted a soldier’s loyalty. I had it in Alek and I had meant to say that I had such a thing in Rahadin, but Alek seemed to imply that the loyalty he felt for me and that which Rahadin felt for me was of a different breed. I watched him dress, waiting for elaboration.
“You will have to teach the Dusk Elves to respect him as they would respect any other duke,” he said. “Or else they will seek retribution. Elves have long memories. Just ask Rahadin. He has recounted tales of his brother, Strahd, the prince, long before he was a war veteran. The tales I’ve heard-”
“-I’m sure are just tales,” I said quickly, my neck heating at the thought of what Rahadin might tell Alek when I could not hear. “”As you said, he is a child. Children have fantastical imaginations, do they not?”
Alek shrugged into his vest. When I caught his looks, they were of unbridled delight and I began to wonder what stories - true or not - Rahadin spun for him of my youth. I had the childish urge to push Alek into the water. It did not become a king. Alek clapped me on the back as he did when we were in a more intimate setting. A grim imitation of a smile came to my lips and I tried to hide it from his eyes.
“It was not through luck that he almost killed me today, Strahd,” he said. “Your brother is skilled and today was a warning that if I did not make a request of you, he knew where to stick his blade.”
“A request?” I blinked. What could Rahadin want from me that I had not already given him? “What a burden it is to have poor relations.”
“Yes and your poor relation would like his own tent,” Alek said. “The poor thing says that you and I keep him up far later than we realize when you seek my counsel.”
“I could simply ask you not to come to the royal tent,” I said flippantly. “Sergei makes no complaints.”
Alek squeezed my shoulder. “Sergei sleeps like a rock but when Elves sleep, they need but four hours and retain an acute awareness of their surroundings.”
“He is a child. How aware could he possibly be?”
Alek grimaced and looked into my eyes in a way I did not like to be looked at, least of all by my general and steward. I felt a hot flash of anger.
“He has been eavesdropping!”
“He wishes he had a choice in the matter.”
“He will choose to ignore my private counsel with you or choose to die by my hand!”
“Yes, Strahd,” Alek said with flat intonation, “the child who nearly killed your best general surely fears your wrath. Tell me how you plan a quick execution of the boy and I’ll tell you he is far too slippery to be caught by even the finest Ba’al Verzi assassin.”
I sucked in my cheeks.
“His own tent?” I echoed. “Perhaps not. Perhaps I will decide that he should share one with Sergei.”
“A just compromise, my lord. Perhaps he should learn diplomacy at your side next.”
“Unhand me, Lord Gwilym, before I sic my child soldier brother upon you,” I said. “And while you are at it, wipe that smirk from your lips. Such a look is unbecoming of my right hand.”
Alek flashed me one more smile that made me burn with the same feeling as before and bent to pick up his armor. He needed no servants to aid him, but I thought for the strangest moment of aiding him for expediency. When he wore it all again, he looked at me somberly and nodded.
“I’ll tell you something, Strahd,” he said. “The boy is one hell of a negotiator to have made you change your mind.”
I huffed.
“The boy knows my one weakness.”
“Only one?” Alek asked, squinting. “Maybe he is not as perceptive as I had thought. Pray tell, what weakness has he spotted in my lord?”
“I cannot ignore you when you speak of reason to me. Notice that he did not ask me himself, but rather sent you instead.”
“Indeed, my lord.” Alek tilted his head. “Shall we tell him the happy news together or shall I allow the camp the illusion that this was your idea?”
“I certainly won’t have them think it is Rahadin’s,” I said. I began to walk towards the camp and then I stopped. “Damn you, Alek Gwylim.”
“Hmm?”
“Was this truly Rahadin’s request?”
He grinned. Damn him, indeed.
“Perhaps we can discuss your brother’s other ideas over a bottle of wine tonight, my liege,” he said. He placed a hand between my shoulder blades and I cursed the way I relaxed against it. “Without either of them present. I’ll have the servants prepare a tent for them while you tell Rahadin and Sergei your decision.”
I watched him walk away and wondered with a hot flush of anger, not for the first time, why Alek Gwilym could sway me so and when Rahadin had learned with such certainty that I might be swayed. Cursing the sky, I followed back to camp and knew that when I did finally find my oldest-youngest brother, he and I would have words and I knew a few words of power that would at least ensure his silence for the rest of the day.
There were some things even I would always outpace him at and my magic was stronger than any blade and any Elf wielding one. When I found him, he sat alone under a tree, flipping a dagger aimlessly, but without missing a catch. I watched him for a moment.
“Lord Gwilym says you want your own tent,” I said.
He did to slice his hand on the blade, but instead let it fall to the ground, point sticking in the damp earth. He turned his dark eyes up to look at me.
“You seem angry about it,” he said. “Are you angry that I would make such a request or that I would risk Lord Gwilym’s life for your attention, Strahd?”
“It would not do for you to have your own tent,” I said, ignoring his question. “By Elven standards, you are a child of perhaps fifteen.”
“And yet I am a general and a duke,” he said. “Have I not proven myself to you on the battlefield?”
“Only a child would take such a petulant tone with his king. I’ll remind you that, Rahadin - I am the king and you will speak to me with respect.”
He cast his eyes to the earth. His lips moved in apology.
“I admit, you are my second most accomplished general,” I said, still towering over him as he sat. “Lord Gwylim thinks that should be reason enough to grant you all that you desire. I disagree, of course. It sets a precedent and smacks of favoritism when I have two brothers in the camp.”
He nodded solemnly.
“It was worth trying,” he said. “I suppose I can carry on, listening to you and Alek Gwilym dance around each other until one of you is dead.”
“A threat, Rahadin?”
“No,” he said, sighing. “A prediction and a sad one at that. I like Alek Gwilym and I love you, Strahd. I would want you to be happy.”
I narrowed my eyes at my brother and saw that whatever he meant, he meant to be opaque as he spoke. I should have demanded an answer, but somehow I felt that in doing so, I would learn things he had observed that I perhaps did not wish to be perceived.
“I plan to set you and Sergei up together in a tent,” I said. “It makes good sense for brothers to share and who better for my oldest-youngest brother to share with my true youngest brother. Surely you have more in common with Sergei than with me at your age.”
Something about the words tasted bitter in my mouth, like bad wine. My lips puckered. Rahadin, for his part, looked hurt but only for a fleeting second.
“Perhaps I do,” he said blankly. “We are closer in age, all things considered, even if he is a soft boy, freshly freed from his mother’s apron strings and I am a general.”
I heard it now: the insolence of youth.
“Persist in ingratitude and I will strip you of that title, Rahadin,” I said. It was not an empty threat. Already I imagined conferring his war-earned title on a third- or fourth-best soldier. “I have come to offer you a compromise and you would do well to accept it humbly.”
He bowed his head.
“It will be my honor to share a tent with Prince Sergei,” he said in the same, empty tone. “Thank you for considering my request, brother.”
“It is more than you deserve,” I said, beckoning him to rise. “Alek is making the preparations now.”
He pulled his dagger from the dirt and stood.
“I think it benefits us both,” he said. “The things I have heard and seen in your tent are things meant not for a child’s ears and eyes.”
“And what is it you have seen and heard?” I asked. “Have I not always been forthcoming with you about my battle plans at dawn?”
He bowed at the waist, face to the ground.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to imply a lack in you as a general or king. I only meant that…”
“Yes?”
“You and Lord Gwilym do not always talk about battle and politics, Strahd. There are some conversations you should enjoy privately.”
The insolence! But his voice was earnest and soft, almost apologetic that he may have heard anything said between Alek and me that was less than becoming a king and his steward. I looked at him queryingly. My silence forced him to look up.
“I only wish to grant you privacy,” he said. He sucked in his cheeks. “Do you remember five years ago, when you took me to the fest hall and Lord Gwilym ushered me onto the streets?”
I blinked. I remembered that day as well as I, a man who had awoken with a severe hangover, could have: telling my brother it was high time he became a man, arguing with Alek, taking my leave and pleasure with an eager maid while Alek wrestled Rahadin onto the cobbled stones. I cursed. Alek had said to me then that Rahadin was a child, hadn’t he? That was what the fight had been about. I had been cross with Alek for a week after. If Rahadin was now only a teenager, how old had he been then? Elves aged so oddly and I thought it might do to pay more attention to the mechanics. He looked like a man of twenty and had for as long as I could remember, but Rahadin was a child. What else had he heard or seen, to call forth that memory so quickly?
“You will have no such issues in a tent with Sergei,” I said. “He is training for the priesthood, too full of virtues to indulge in earthly pleasures, and staying too briefly to cause permanent disruption. I have clearly disturbed you, but I never claimed to be a virtuous man.”
He shrugged. “I do not doubt your virtue, Strahd, but I am beginning to doubt you notice how Lord Gwilym looks at you a bottle of wine into the evening.”
“Rahadin…”
“A tent with Sergei is agreeable enough. Thank you, my lord and brother, for your generosity,” he said quickly, bowing again and then righting himself. “I will not deprive you the honor of telling Sergei yourself, but I will see if I can help Lord Gwilym and the servants set my new quarters up. Thank you, again, Strahd.”
For all that I seethed, I loved him for one thing: he did not try to hug me as Sergei would no doubt in a few minutes. He understood deference to a king, even one who was his brother. Only when he was gone from my earshot, back to me, did I press myself to the tree and slide down its trunk, shutting my eyes and searching my mind for the soft, unreadable way Alek Gwilym looked at me when we were alone. What, I wondered, could that intimacy have to do with a premature visit to a fest hall? I sucked in a breath. I didn’t want to know, but somehow I knew that as far as Rahadin believed, he spoke the truth and even a king could balk at such a heavy thing. I waited a few minutes more in the shade before seeking out Sergei for what would undoubtedly be an easier conversation.