Great Heads

3: Kaleb's POV

Kaleb

 Mother, as always, with her angelic voice, she would sing to I and my twin.

 Mother was a Forelene and her husband was Rocainian. The history of these people went way back. They were enemies that would pass on their hatred from generation to generation. Some of these Rocainian children didn't even know why they hated the Forelenes. I didn't know.

Finding out you were a Forelene living amist the Rocainians was a punishable offense by the law. Death by torture, stoning, and sometimes slavery if lucky. So, it could be said that my parent’s union was forbidden, but they still found a way to keep it a secret.

I wondered why they risked such.

 They never spoke about how they met so we never really knew the story.

Rocainians were said to be strong ruthless wealthy individuals that would rather die than let someone stomp on their pride. 

Pride; it was everything to them. It seemed impossible but I grew up with these people as family. It was like learning two cultures at once. Mother taught me to be nice and hard-working, while father taught me how to fight!

I and my twin would practice every day with our swords and fists. We would get injured in the process, but it was normal and a part of it. When we returned from fighting, mother would clean us up and sing songs that taught us good morals and peace.

“Time to go.” Father ordered us.

Mother was exasperated. My brother had not yet recovered fully from the other training session and was being forced to fight again. She pleaded so much but to no avail.

He said that he had to train us in the ways of the Rocainian people. Some days off was all she asked for. At least until he had recovered. 

He came to a conclusion. He said that I would have to practice with him; which was deadly because he never held back a move and was an ex-commander in the army, I fought with the other older kids that were pure-blooded Rocainians who saw dying from training as normal, or I fought with my injured brother.

You may see him as evil, but he wanted us to be strong and not considered weaklings by others. It was a way of showing examples to others too. The thing was that Rocainians enjoyed fighting, it was their nature. Failure to participate in the recruit training exercise could reduce your mark and chance of joining the army.

This was how they raised strong men to take over more lands and conquer kingdoms.    

They raised their warriors from young and selected the most capable. They took close watch of us children and knew us by our skills.

A hardened heart was what they looked for. No one was soft here. Well, no one except for our good mother, whose origin wasn't really from here. She was kind and good-hearted.

You’d be a laughing stock and a shame to your parents if you didn’t make it into the army. And it'd be worse if you were a boy.   

We were two boys.

A saying went that, ‘fighting help keeps the Rocainians alive’.

“It's okay father. I can fight. I'm strong.” Alec spoke, trying to convince father.

“Now that’s my Rocainian child!” father praised.

We went to the place where we usually trained. There were other children there too. There were days we would have our instructors teach us certain skills and other days, we could practice with our partners.

We were allowed to pick our partners but could change when instructed to do so.

Apart from fighting, there were other things we learnt, but I remember it being the most learnt. And it was the intense kind.

I and my brother circled the field with our hands ready to punch and eyes fixated on each other. I launched the first attack. I lunged forward screaming and hurled my fist against his face giving him a kick.

I thrust my hand against Alec’s stomach and he spilled an amount of blood from his mouth.

I pushed him down, climbed over him, and began punching his face. His face turned red and blood started gushing out from both his mouth and nose. He managed to push my hands away and place his on my neck; strangling me. I was losing breath and in my head, I had accepted defeat already because his grip was too tight.

I then noticed he was getting weak, probably because he was injured. I seized the opportunity and hit him hard with my fist. 

“Alec?” I called his name but he didn't respond. He had completely blacked out. 

I kept calling his name several times but he didn't still respond. What had I done? Why did I have to be so hard?

I shook him but he didn't budge. I glanced around only to see other children minding their own business; except one.

“Your brother was the weakling after all,” Krista said to me with one of her hands on my shoulder. She was one of our best fighters in training. “I'll offer to be your training partner. Not because of anything in particular. It's just that I like the challenge.”

I shook off her hand and carried my brother up.

“Father!” I shouted as I walked, dragging his body alongside with his hands on my shoulders.

I was lucky this time. But for how long were we going to continue like this? My mother would always say that Rocainians were monsters, forgetting she was married to one.

How did it even happen?

My brother opened his eyes after the doctor had performed one or two things. I was glad. I was scared before, not of killing someone, but of having that someone be my blood.

I always lived my life with a sinister feeling, as something bad would always happen around me.

It was like a curse placed on me.

        White grows the lily,

        red grows the rose…

My mother sang for us that night before we slept. It felt like peace from heaven.