Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 190: The Twins.

Chapter 190: The Twins.

Morning.

Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

"Tommy Tom, what happened to you?" Gabriel taunted as he watched his brother’s battered body from the last fight.

"I was a hero," he said with a grin.

In the soft light of dawn, the mansion field was a picture of serenity, bathed in the gentle hues of the rising sun.

Tom and Gabriel the two identical black twin boys of the mansion, dressed in training attires stood facing each other, their swords in hand, their movements fluid and precise as they began to spar that morning.

Their footsteps echoed softly on the dew-kissed grass as they circled each other, their blades glinting in the early morning light.

Their eyes and brows communicated more than their words did.

With each strike and parry, they moved with a grace born of years of practice and discipline, their movements a seamless dance of steel and muscle.

As they exchanged blows, the air was filled with the clang of metal on metal.

Uhh. Punctuated by their laboured breaths and occasional grunts of exertion.

Shit.

Despite the intensity of their training, there was a sense of camaraderie between them, a deep bond forged by shared experiences and a lifetime of companionship.

Damn.

But beneath the surface, tension simmered.

Tom’s brow furrowed with concern, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his brother was growing too comfortable with the art of war.

The art of killing.

They had both taken lives before, in service to their lord and city, but he could sense a growing detachment in his brother, a coldness that troubled him deeply.

"Brother, I fear you grow too fond of the sword," Tom said, his voice tinged with unease as they continued their sparring. "War should not be taken lightly."

Gabriel, his expression unreadable behind his mask, shrugged nonchalantly. "What else is there for us, brother?" he replied, his tone casual. "We are the lord’s soldiers, bred for whatever comes. It is our duty to serve our lord and lady, protect our homeland."

Tom shook his head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "But at what cost?" he countered, his voice rising with emotion.

"Have you forgotten the lives we’ve taken, the blood we’ve spilt? Killing should not be glorified, brother. It is a grim necessity, nothing more."

Gabriel’s gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "You speak as if you have no stomach for death, brother," he said, his voice cold.

"But I have seen you fight, seen the fire in your eyes. Do not pretend to be something you are not." Gabriel continued.

Tom bristled at his brother’s words, his grip tightening on his sword. "I do not deny my skills, brother," he replied, his voice tight with emotion.

"But I fear that you have become too enamoured with the thrill of battle, too willing to spill blood without thought of consequence." He added.

Their swords clashed once more, the sound ringing out across the field as they continued their sparring.

But beneath the surface of their practised movements, a rift had formed between them, a divide born of differing perspectives on the nature of war and duty.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the field, the twins fought on, their swords flashing in the light.

But with each strike and parry, the distance between them grew, a silent reminder of the growing discord that threatened to tear them apart.

Gabriel dropped his sword abruptly and asked. "What are we doing?’

Silence.

He raised a brow. "Do you fear me now?"

Gabriel scoffed. "You killed witches too!" he spread in arms with an exaggerated expression.

Tom shook his head. "I did not enjoy it, I was protecting the lady, I did not seek them out" he replied.

Gabriel bit his lips hard, he felt blood rushing to his face at a speed that he couldn’t fathom, his heart.

"You are a hypocrite, Shoto! A fucking hypocrite" Gabriel barked before leaving the premises in angry strides while Tom ran his palm through his face.

*

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Morning.

Garden, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

"Lena, words fail me, I cannot express how proud of you I am" Lydia let out, her eyes warm and comfortable, she could’ve been sleeping still but she was happy to be back and there was actual company for her.

"Thank you, Lydia, I am very excited too but the shop has no furniture or decorations I shall need your expertise in that aspect" Helena replied with a smile, she didn’t have a fashion sense as good as Lydia.

"Pardon me, my kind lady but I take payments"

They burst into giggles while the maids smiled as they did their daily chores.

In the heart of the dark mansion, the parlour exuded an air of elegance and timeless beauty.

The room was adorned with rich, dark wood panelling and large cushions, but not ornate wallpaper in shades of deep burgundy and gold like Lydia would’ve loved.

Tall windows draped with heavy, brocade curtains allowed little streams of afternoon sunlight to filter in, cast a warm and inviting glow.

The scent of freshly polished wood from the maids and delicate floral arrangements filled the air, adding to the room’s charm.

Lydia and Helena, sat comfortably on a plush, velvet sofa, its deep green colour contrasting beautifully with the warm hues of the room.

Only knowing each other recently doesn’t stop their bond from becoming stronger even the coolness of their resemblance without sharing blood interests them.

Lydia had invited Helena for an afternoon of companionship and conversation, something both had eagerly anticipated.

Lydia, with her dark, straight hair pinned up elegantly and her emerald dress reflecting the sophistication of her surroundings, while Helena, whose midnight locks framed her face in soft waves and her pale blue dress complimented her skin that looked almost similar to Lydia’s, her ocean blue eyes sparkling with affection as she looked at Lydia.

"It feels as though it has been too long, Lena," Lydia said, her voice a melodic blend of joy and nostalgia. "Life in the castle felt empty without our regular tête-à-têtes."

Helena laughed softly, her laughter like the tinkling of a bell. "Indeed, Amelia. The town has been bustling with news, and I have so much to tell you. But first, let’s enjoy our lunch."

A small, intricately carved table stood between them, set with fine china and silverware.

The table was laden with an array of delicious dishes: a platter of smoked salmon, a bowl of crisp, mixed greens with vinaigrette, freshly baked rolls, and a selection of cheeses and fruits.

A silver teapot, adorned with floral engravings, sat steaming with fragrant herbal tea.

"Do you not wish to know why we came back this early?" Lydia asked with narrowed eyes.

Helena shrugged. "Your sister is there, Theodore does not go well with his brother and you are too kind" She continued to pour tea into their delicate cups, the fragrant steam rising in gentle spirals.

Lydia blinked. "How... you are right, Liza was not excited to meet me"

Helena reached for a roll, buttering it carefully before taking a bite. "Oh, Lydia, this bread is divine. Your cook has outdone herself." Helena complimented.

Lydia nodded, taking a sip of her tea. "I shall pass on your compliments. It is a he, Hound is our cook and butler"

"Now, tell me, what has been happening in town? I feel so out of touch." Lydia complained.

"Lydia just know that you are not the problem" Helena let out firmly, her palm covering Lady Theodore’s.

"Thank you," Lydia said flustered.

Helena leaned forward, her eyes alight with excitement. "Well, where to begin? The biggest news is that Mrs. Hathaway’s daughter is engaged to the young Mr. Edwards. It seems everyone is talking about it."

Lydia raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? I had no idea! They have been courting for such a long time. I’m glad to hear they have finally made it official."

"And speaking of engagements," Helena continued, "I hear that Mr. Bradford has been seen quite often supporting his wife when she walks, It seems there might be another announcement soon."

That had been the lady that was insulted on the first table Lydia had sat at the baroness’s tea party, about the lady who couldn’t get pregnant perhaps she is now.

Lydia laughed, a light, musical sound. "Oh, Clara, you always bring the most delightful news. It seems love and reproduction is in the air in our little town."

"And the Muckraker?" Lydia.

Helena paled. "What about her?"

"Her papers, Helena" Lydia juggled the suspicious friend’s mind.

"Oh, Conan’s courier brings them over and is slowly getting relaxed with his delivery" Helena confirmed sweetly.

"I shall read them later," Lydia said with certainty.

They chatted animatedly, catching up on all the gossip and news. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and shared memories.

As they enjoyed their meal, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the parlour. The ladies finished their lunch with slices of a delicate lemon tart, the tangy sweetness a perfect end to their meal.

Helena leaned back, her expression content. "Amelia, I cannot tell you how much I treasure these moments with you. Life may change around us, but our friendship would remain steadfast."

Lydia reached out, taking Helena’s hand in hers. "You are my dearest friend, Helena, more sister to me than anyone, than all the sisters I have ever had, No matter where life takes us, we shall always have each other."

The two ladies sat in comfortable silence for a moment, savouring the warmth of their connection.

The parlour, with its elegant decor and eerie darkness, seemed to embrace them, a silent witness to their enduring friendship.

As the afternoon light began to fade, they knew that no matter how time marched on, their bond would remain unbroken, they would last.

"Let us play a game" Helena squealed, she hadn’t eaten much and was still lively.

Lydia pouted. "What game?"

"Storytelling?" Helena suggested.

"No, let us go for a walk" Lydia suggested as the food weighed on her.

And they went for a walk.