"You and I both know that's not fair, Caroline.” Jared shook his hands at his sides and tried not to show his surprise on his face. 

The woman laughed, her face wrinkling and hands pulling up to her mouth. “Fair. You are talking to us about fair.”

There it was. He could hear the tone of her voice, and if he tried he could probably guess verbatim what was going to come out of her mouth. Somehow him working for his life instead of quietly bowing down to his brother unbalanced the world. It was like they couldn’t hear themselves.

As if some hive mind took over when they looked at him. They may not hurt the sibling of the chosen one, but they didn’t him as a citizen either. Evil need only have aspirations.

“I paid you a deposit, Deckard,” he said, changing tactics. If he could get through to the businessman instead of the overpowered husband, maybe he stood a chance.

He never figured out what the man saw in his wife, or how she managed to overpower him so much. It didn’t matter in the end, but it seemed a little sad that a man in such a strong and useful profession couldn’t manage to stand up for himself. It meant that Deckard wouldn’t stand up for anyone else either, but Jared had to try.

“You made that sword for me,” he continued when neither of them responded. Or moved at all. “You have known me all my life.” Caroline let out a scoff. Brusquer than the laugh had been, it was made from spite instead of amusement. Her eyes narrowed and her hands began to gesture again. “We have known you all your life, alright. We have seen you every single time you’ve back-stabbed Jacob, and this is no different. That sword is not for you, and Deckard never should have agreed to make it.”

Jerad shook his head. Every man in the village had a weapon. It was necessary. Having a sword meant he could keep himself safe, and help keep the community safe. It meant he could keep his family safe; if he hadn't been so ostracized since coming of age. “We will see how you feel about that the next time the wolves attack, Caroline,” he said and turned toward the door.

He was losing the argument, and the anger was making his chest feel hot. As his hand landed on the wooden barrier to outside he paused. “I expect that deposit returned to me. I do not pay for my brother's weapons.”

With the last word out of his mouth he left, not waiting to hear the asinine response that was sure to come out of their mouths. They truly did not hear themselves, and likely would choose not to anytime soon. They didn’t see the damage they did. No one saw it; as if he was born to be a slave to the hero. The hero that had yet to set foot outside the cobblestone and brick of his home town.

He had proved himself in narcissistic displays, and the one time he had been awake when the beasts got through the outer defenses. Perhaps he was being unfair, he thought. It was that moment it dawned on him — If everything he needed went to his brother; maybe he should go there as well. After-all, it had been quite a while since he had stopped by.

Lost in thought, he moved to his brother's house on autopilot. Even though he hadn’t been in several seasons, he would never forget the way there. It was ingrained for better or worse. It seemed as if he blinked and he had gone the distance between the weapons masters door and Jacobs. A rush of breath left Jared's mouth, and he lifted his fist to knock.

The door swung open almost instantly, his wide and tanned brother staring at him with a goofy grin. “Welcome! I had a feeling you would arrive today.”

Of course, he thought. “Thank you for having me unannounced,” he said.

Jared watched his own features move aside for him to walk through the short blonde hair, the pale blue eyes. The only thing that set them apart was a jagged scar that curved around Jacobs's left eye. It had happened so early that the pair had never known anything different. The village had known from day 1 which one they should care about, and which one needed to simply toe the line. When there was enough space, he shuffled inside and listened to the door closed behind him.

The house was quiet. It seemed strange for Jacobs's house to be quiet when he was always the center of attention. The last whisper from the rumor mill had been that the hero had taken a wife, and had a child. Perhaps the rumor mill had been wrong. “I’ve come with a purpose, I fear,” Jared said when they had entered the main living space.

He turned toward his brother, waiting for the Juvenal smile to fade from his scarred face.

It didn’t.

“The villagers are getting worse than ever. Deckard refuses to give me a new sword, even though I live closest to the forest,” he said and pulled his arms over his chest. “I need you to pick it up and give it to me. I’ll pay you the gold.”

At that, Jacob’s smile did fade, and his lips pursed into a thin line. “You want my weapon?”

Jerad shook his head. The question seemed like an exaggerated characterization of the person he should have been talking to. His brother was not dense — simply entitled. “No. I want my weapon,” he answered. “Deckard won’t give it to me.”

Jacob tilted his head to the side a little and then shook his head as if mirroring the action he had just witnessed. “I don’t know what to tell you. I will have to see what he brings me first.”

The words hit Jerad like a brick to the face. There was no reason for the selfishness - it was above and beyond what had driven them apart as children. The man he was looking at should have known better. He had access to anything he needed, and no reason to hoard more swords that he didn’t need. “He is bringing you a weapon I ordered. I designed it, Jacob. It’s mine, but they are all convinced property of my own is somehow an enemy to you.”

There was no easier way to explain it, and Jerad felt his chest warming up again. His anger was sitting in his throat, ready to fly if the village hero didn’t shake the cobwebs out of his head. Yet he watched the slow shake of the man's head once more. “You wouldn’t need it if you simply attended me like you were meant to.”

Jerad lifted his hand to gesture around the pair. There was nothing that Jacob needed, he had hundreds of people attending him and the strength to do all of their jobs. “I wasn’t meant to do anything!” he yelled without meaning to. “I was simply born at the same time as ‘the hero.’ For once in our lives, give me what's mine!” He slammed his hand against his chest and screamed out in pain. When he removed it, there was a smoking handprint burning through the linen of his shirt.

Jacob stepped back, his jaw slack. It was the first time the man had ever shown a lick of fear. “It’s true then.”

Jerad looked up from his chest, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s true?”

“You really are my rival. You are the monster I will have to beat.”