CHAPTER 01
When kingdoms fall into peril, heroes are meant to rise.
Feren, unfortunately, had no such intentions.
“If they can do it,” he murmured into the softness of his pillow, “then let them.”
The words barely lingered before sleep reclaimed him.
His chambers gleamed with indulgence. Gold threaded through the drapes, shimmered in the fabrics, and crowned even the bedposts in excessive brilliance. It was the sort of luxury that demanded admiration—and yet, to Feren, it felt almost suffocating. His father had always been fond of spectacle. Feren, on the other hand, preferred comfort over grandeur.
And comfort he had.
Wrapped in a heavy blanket stuffed with phoenix feathers, he lay cocooned in warmth, his thin frame nearly swallowed whole by its weight. Only his face remained visible, relaxed and unbothered.
Peace, however, was fleeting. The doors slammed open with such force they struck the walls.
“Feren!”
A gust of motion followed—a pale green cape whipping through the air, a gray tunic clashing loudly against it. Fermin.
Before Feren could so much as sit up, a stack of papers flew straight into his face.
“You knew about this war, didn’t you?!” Fermin demanded.
Feren groaned, dragging the blanket over his head. “Go away.”
The response did nothing to soothe his brother’s temper. A pillow struck him next.
“Stop hitting me,” Feren snapped, shoving the blanket aside just in time to kick Fermin in the stomach. “What do you want?!”
“What do I want?” Fermin grabbed another pillow, eyes blazing. “You handed me the project knowing full well it came with mountains of paperwork!”
“I handed it to you because I didn’t want it!” Feren shot back.
The argument devolved instantly.
They grappled across the bed, silk sheets tangling beneath them as they shoved, struck, and shouted over one another. Years of familiarity made the fight less dangerous than it appeared—but no less chaotic. Fermin however was a lot more gentle, making sure not to jostle him too hard. Feren was already feeling better and wasn't throwing up anymore and he plan to make sure it stays that way.
“The stacks are taller than me!” Fermin shouted.
“That sounds like a you problem!”
The thought of paperwork invigorates Fermin even more but Feren albeit weak managed to get on top of him and from the looks of it he had no plans of coming down.
“Say ‘I yield!’” Feren demanded, pinning him down. He repeatedly hit Fermin already panting from the exertion. Noticing his fatigue his brother eventually let him have his win.
“Never—!” Fermin struggled, then immediately broke. “I yield! I yield!”
Hearing his surrender Feren made sure to give him a few smacks to his cheeks with the golden pillow before releasing him.
They lay there afterward, breathing heavily, limbs sprawled carelessly across the bed like fallen soldiers. For a moment, neither spoke. Then the weight of their situation settled back in.
They did not belong to this world.
Once, they had been Marcus and Holland Ron—brothers by blood, bound together in an unforgiving life that had offered them little and demanded everything. Now, they were Feren and Fermin Faramir, heirs to a ducal house in a world shaped by magic and war—a world lifted straight from the pages of a novel titled Holy War.
Feren knew that story intimately.
Fermin did not.
“I look ridiculous,” Fermin muttered at last, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.
“You look gaudy,” Feren replied without hesitation, reaching into a drawer and tossing him a candied tangerine. “We really need to fix the color scheme.”
Fermin caught it, unimpressed, but ate it anyway. Then he paused mid chew.
“…Why did you give me the project?” he asked. “There aren’t any significant events right now. No major plot developments. We don’t even need to get involved.”
Feren rose from the bed, slipping into a pale green robe with casual ease.
“For the story as a whole?” he said. “No. Nothing important happens.”
He turned, meeting Fermin’s gaze.
“But for us—something does.”
Fermin frowned. “Explain.”
“The Duke will be there.”
“…You want to end our exile already?” Fermin raised a brow. “We’ve been here for three days.”
“Exile?” Feren scoffed softly. “This is a vacation.”
“A secluded estate, endless food, no obligations—yes it is a vacation for you at least,” Fermin agreed. “I do love the training regimens that goes along our project. Which is exactly why I don’t understand why you’d want to ruin it.”
Feren’s expression sharpened, the laziness slipping away.
“Because we need funding. Also the thought of being punished about a crime I did not even commit bothers me to no end.”
That, at least, caught Fermin’s attention.
“From him?” Fermin scoffs "The duke already sold us out you know, he didn't even hear us out. But why do you need funding from him?"
“Not directly from him,” Feren said, unfolding a map and laying it between them. “But his recognition will get us there.”
He tapped two marked locations.
“You’re going to secure this land.”
Fermin leaned closer, squinting. “You want his ore mines?”
“Not ore,” Feren said. “Magicules.”
Fermin let out a short laugh. “Magicules as is the solidified magic crystals Magicules? That doesn’t exist.”
“It does,” Feren replied calmly. “But you stopped reading so it is only right that you don't know.”
He leaned slightly forward, voice lowering.
“In a side story—set far into the future—it’s mentioned. A deposit large enough to sustain an empire for generations. If it was found during the current era it is enough to end a six-hundred-year war in four.”
Fermin’s amusement faded replaced with grave understanding. His hand caressing the two 'x' that marks the territory.
“And it’s here?”
“In these two territories.”
Silence stretched between them.
“…If that’s true,” Fermin said slowly, “the Royal Family will claim it the moment it’s discovered.”
“We are not going to hoard it,” Feren said. “We use it for leverage.”
Fermin looked up. “Use it?”
“Influence. Power. Wealth.” Feren paused, then added, quieter, “And a way back into the family.”
Fermin let out a breath. “We’re exiled.”
“For a reason,” Feren replied. “We were framed. The originals may have been fools—but the rest of the family isn’t.”
Fermin hesitated.
“…We haven’t even met them.”
Feren smiled faintly.
“Then let’s give them a reason to come to us.”
