Tale of Four

Anton didn’t spare Vincent another look and turned to the rest of the family. "Soon, I will take to the field. With the Clovers in the war, I cannot risk the command falling into other hands. That being the case." Anton leaned back. "Things have already been prepared in the event I fall during battle. As for Brandon, plans have already been made as well." The entire table leaned closer, intrigued by what Anton had done.

"Brandon, Ester and Cleeve." Anton interlocked his fingers and looked around at his family. Tristan met his gaze for that momentary second, and in his gaze, he saw the flicker of sadness and regret, the smallest amount Anton could even muster. "They cannot survive," Anton said queitly, dreading having even mentioned the act of Kinslaying.

"Father." Mabel spoke up, "I... I understand, Uncle Brandon, but Cleeve and Ester. Do they truly pose such a threat?" Mabel asked about her grandaunt and uncle.

"I agree." Vincent said, almost begging Anton to reconsider, "Ester is innocent. We haven’t even confirmed if she has joined Brandon’s side in this war." Tristan could see both were being led by their feeling, something Anton did as well when he looked between them.

"I hope you are not saying this becuase of personal feelings for the two." The air got heavy with its words, stating the obvious. Tristan felt himself struggle to breathe. Not just him, but everyone else, including Annabell, felt the change in the air, with the small dove getting restless, whilst the others froze up. "I have just condemned my brother to death," Anton said with an incredibly cold tone, one that didn’t allow room for opposition, "I..." He paused, his knuckles white with how hard he squeezed his hands, "Still love my brother, and I have condemned him to die. Unless you have reason to keep those two alive, barring feelings, do not speak of it again."

No one could say anything for a moment, hearing his words. Looking down at the table, Mabel bit her lip and nodded in understanding. Vincent, despite his fear of Anton, however, worked up the courage and met his brother’s gaze before quickly looking away. "The Cosmaton family is destroying itself, Anton." His voice was nearly inaudible, but Anton heard his words and seemed to recognise a trace of competence from his half-brother. With that, his gaze full of disdain eased up, "I won’t argue for Brandon; that is not my place. But Ester and Cleeve. Must we destroy our family more than it already is? We are stronger when there are more of us. A united family."

Anton was silent for a brief moment, nodding in agreement. "Our family is stronger, united. You are not wrong, Vincent. But Cleeve will never surrender." Anton said as a matter of fact, "There is no hatred between me and him, but Cleeve is a man who is bound by his vows over personal feelings. He has declared for Brandon; that means he will die for Brandon if he must." Anton looked into Vincent’s eyes. "Do you expect Ester to leave Cleeve, her own twin? Honestly, answer me, Vincent, can you convince Ester to switch sides and betray the brother she shared a womb with?"

Vinect lowered his head and grabbed at his trousers with anger. Silently shaking his head, Anton nodded, "You must convince Cleeve if you wish for Ester to betray Brandon, and that will be impossible."

"What of Ellie?" A surprising voice spoke up. Matthew lifted his head slightly off the table, peeking above his arms and meeting his father’s gaze.

"All of Bradnon’s children. All of Ester’s. All of Cleeve’s. I don’t care; they shall be spared, so long as they don’t pick up arms during the conflict. The moment they do, they are to be treated as their parents. I have sent word to Lord Makepiece carrying this will so those three. Understand, I will not punish them when they lose, so long as they declare me their king." The three nodded. Tristan took a deep breath and spoke.

"Your Grace. I mean no insult when I say this, but are you asking us to become kinslayers for this war?" The room looked to Anton, almost afraid of his answer. Anton closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

"This war asks a lot from us all." Anton replied, "I do not ask you to carry that burden if you cannot." His voice chilled with determination. "If you capture any of these three, do not expect to carry out the judgment yourself. I shall be the one to." The words hung in the air for a moment, everyone taking a sharp breath.

They all knew what it meant. Kinslayers, accidentally or not, suffered. The Gods shunned all those who committed the most vile crime one could commit, and with it, they were banished from ever seeing their grace. For Anton to claim that burden, when he was free of it, told them all they needed to know. He would damn himself for eternity and, with it, accept the horrid fate that would come.

"I understand." Tristan couldn’t say anymore. In the face of such determination to spare his family this one luxury in war, no one could try to talk him out of it. It was insulting to him, even if it was the extreme option.

"There is nothing more to discuss, but." Anton stood up and walked to a side door. Opening it, a servant stood waiting. "Please fetch the queen and tell the chefs we are ready." The servant bowed, and Anton retook his seat. Silently waiting, Karina arrived and went to Anton’s side, planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek before taking a place at her side. A few minutes later, servants walked in, carrying a small feast of food that would soon become a luxury. "This is the final gift I can offer you all. I would have liked to do this with Elias, but I cannot wait for him."

Tristan looked down at the plate before him, a small cut of meat alongside some vegetables. Servants walked around and filled their glasses with wine, taking to the side of the room once more. Finally, in the centre of the table, six slices of cake were placed to be eaten once everyone was finished the meal.

Everyone looked to Anton as he picked up his fork and took the first bite. The signal was given, and the rest could eat. Matthew lifted his head, poking at his food like a child who saw things they didn’t like, but begrudgingly ate. Next, Karina, with the grace of a queen, silently ate, a small smile on her face as she looked at her children.

Looking at Vincent, he watched the man stare at the plate with a horrified expression, unsure of what it meant. His hands shook as he picked up the cutlery and, with a deep breath, he began by tapping his knife and fork together three times before cutting a piece of meat, carefully lifting it to his mouth, making sure a single drop of blood didn’t fall on him. After swallowing, he made sure to check himself before putting his cutlery down, wiping his mouth three times and repeating the small ritual. When he reached for his glass of wine, he would swirl it three times on the table before taking a sip.

Tristan looked back at his plate and finally turned to Mabel. Unlike her mother, who ate gracefully, or Anton, who quickly devoured it as if he were on the battlefield, where he could be interrupted at any time, Mabel was like a wolf, tearing the well-organised plate apart, taking large mouthfuls, savouring the food without a care for how she looked before her family.

Tristan smiled to himself as he picked up the glass of wine by his side, watching the table, eating, slowly divulging in conversation, enjoying the momentary peace. He would chuckle every time Karina scolded Mabel for her eating style. When Anton engaged in small talk with Vincent, free of his disdain for the man, he could see the young man light up and slowly return to the attitude he had entered the room with, quickly becoming the charismatic man he was beneath his insecurity.

Matthew even made an attempt, whispering to Mabel, and, when replied to, smiled and opened up more, whilst trying to hide the fact that he didn’t wish to eat the vegetables on his plate.

He couldn’t help but feel out of place when everyone found someone to talk to, but didn’t mind, rather enjoying the meal, watching as Annabell jumped around his body, using him as a climbing frame to play on. It was a sight that made someone believe they weren’t at war at the moment, and Tristan burned it to memory, knowing it was soon going to be destroyed.

"Annabell," Tristan called to her to have her stop jumping around, rather indicating for her to stand on the table so he could see her. Seeing the rest of the table in their own conversations, the two slowly began to talk, Tristan listening with a thin smile as Annabell told random stories of her adventures around the Palace.

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