SWY 11

Chapter 2: Luhas

“Let’s rest here for the night.”

With that, Lestel was the first to jump off his horse. The sun was already beginning to set, and Sharhan had been just about to suggest stopping anyway. He silently agreed and dismounted. It had been a grueling ride, so much so that even lunch had been handled on horseback with just a few bites of jerky, so both man and horse were worn out.

Sharhan tapped his sore back and slowly stroked his horse’s side as it snorted hot air and shifted its weight. Its body radiated heat from the nonstop gallop. He’d learned along the way that the horse’s name was Lightning.

True to its name, Lightning was fast and sturdy, and after traveling together for ten days, the bond between them had grown. The horse nudged Sharhan’s shoulder with its nose affectionately, then trotted off to graze. It was so intelligent and loyal that there was no need to tie it up. It would feed itself nearby and return when it was time to sleep. If it didn’t come back on its own, a simple whistle would bring it running.

Lestel’s horse, Thunder, was the same. They were well-bred and well-trained. As Sharhan glanced at Lightning walking beside Thunder, he couldn’t help but eye its strong haunches with envy before turning away.

While Sharhan was bonding with Lightning, Lestel had gathered some branches and built a fire. Sharhan sat down heavily beside it, letting the heat loosen his stiff body. The journey had been tiring, but not terrible. Lestel, once a pampered young lord from a wealthy marquis household who used to bring servants even to the academy, was surprisingly good at camping.

Of course, there were still things about him Sharhan didn’t like, but he had to admit that Lestel, with his three years of mercenary experience, was just as used to life on the road. That was impressive, and unfamiliar.

He must’ve gone through a lot after running away from home… He probably didn’t know how hard it would be when he left. And he still hasn’t told me who he’s looking for. Typical. Always has to keep something back.

Along the way, Sharhan had asked him casually whenever he got the chance, but Lestel only smiled slyly or dodged the question. Every time, a bitter feeling twisted in Sharhan’s gut. There was something Lestel wasn’t telling him. And after just three years apart, it felt like there was a whole part of Lestel he didn’t know anymore. The smug little bastard in front of him wasn’t the same boy he used to know inside and out.

Sharhan stared at him in silence. They’d spent nearly twenty years bickering side by side before being apart for just three. That short time had created such a gap, and Sharhan hated that. Sure, he’d changed too. Once a poor noble, now a mercenary. He’d picked up cursing, gotten rougher.

Maybe Lestel found this new version of him just as hard to deal with. But who cared how he felt? The important thing was that Sharhan didn’t like it. It felt like something he’d had tightly in his grasp had slipped away without him even realizing, leaving nothing behind.

Sensing the stare, Lestel looked up from his water flask.

“Honey, why are you looking at me like you’re about to set me on fire?”

“‘Honey’… Ugh, forget it. Telling you not to call me that is just a waste of breath.”

Sharhan sounded like a man resigned to his fate. Lestel curled his lips into a smug smile. Sharhan had given up trying to fight it. Call me whatever the hell you want, that was his mindset now. Every time he got riled up at being called “honey,” Lestel just seemed to enjoy it more. Better to let it slide, even if it made his skin crawl a bit.

Sharhan continued with a sigh.

“Anyway, you just reminded me of when I told you to bring firewood and you dragged in a bunch of soaked branches.”

They were about nine years old? He and Lestel had been fighting over who would get the rights to the Ice Cave they’d been putting off claiming. The bet was simple, whoever lasted longer inside would win.

It was winter. He remembered it had snowed heavily two days before. The cave was so cold that you could see your breath even in the summer. In winter, it was unbearable. After just a few minutes, their whole bodies were shaking and their teeth were chattering. Both had come in dressed lightly to play it cool, but they were freezing to the bone.

Still, neither gave up. It became a battle of pride. I refuse to lose to him. Eventually, they compromised, start a fire. Lestel would gather wood, and Sharhan would light it.

Lestel had left the cave all confident and returned with soaking wet branches.

Lestel’s face changed as he caught the look in Sharhan’s eyes, eyes that kept darting between the roaring fire and his face. Sharhan’s expression seemed to say, “That pampered little marquis brought wet branches, and I still managed to light the fire like a pro.” Lestel scoffed.

“Spare me that proud look like you’re watching a prize hog. You call that nostalgia? You just filled the cave with smoke and nearly killed us both. I only brought wet branches because you insisted you knew how to make fire. I believed you, dumbass.”

Lestel shattered the sweet memory without mercy.

“What the hell? I’m not as sloppy as you. I totally made that fire burn with the wet branches you-”

…didn’t he?

Sharhan faltered. A foggy memory surfaced. A tiny Lestel dragging him out of the cave while he sobbed. Actually, not dragging, hauling. Lestel had practically slung him over his back and dragged him out.

Sharhan had a habit of exaggerating Lestel’s mistakes while downplaying his own. His eyes wavered. Maybe his pride, I must never lose to Lestel. I must always be better. I must never look weak in front of him, had been distorting his memories all this time.

“Looks like you finally remember. You talked big about watching the knights make fires, then passed out from all the smoke. Do you know how hard it was dragging you out of there? Technically, that makes me your lifesaver.”

Grinning, Lestel gave Sharhan a few light taps on the cheek. Sharhan scowled and slapped his hand away.

“Oh yeah, I do remember now. A few days later, your feet and shins were all scraped up. That must’ve been from dragging me out. I was bigger than you, so of course your legs got scraped. I guess… thanks. Must’ve been rough, carrying me out with that tiny body of yours.”

Sharhan tapped Lestel’s cheek in return. Lestel slapped his hand away, so hard Sharhan was knocked backward into the dirt. But he just burst out laughing. Lestel looked down at him with a cold, sharp glint in his eyes. There was even a flicker of menace.

Oh right, being called small used to be one of his sore spots.

Whenever Sharhan teased him about his size, Lestel would lose his shit. Just look at him now, frozen and grinding his teeth.

Lestel let out a cold laugh and grabbed Sharhan by the jaw, shaking it. Sharhan let him, laughing like he was in the best mood ever.

“Did you toss your conscience while playing mercenary? You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to your lifesaver like that.”

“I said thanks, didn’t I? Told you how much trouble it must’ve been to carry me out with that tiny body. You really were small back then, huh?”

“…”

Until their academy days, Lestel had always been smaller. Sharhan had grown fast, and Lestel’s growth had been slow. Up until twelve or thirteen, he could’ve passed for a girl.

But he had a fierce pride, always trying to outdo Sharhan in everything, even though Sharhan had been taller and stronger. Just like Sharhan refused to lose to Lestel, Lestel was just as stubborn. They’d spent their days competing, arguing, even throwing punches.

“You were about three inches shorter, right-”

He didn’t register the shift in mood fast enough. As Sharhan kept teasing and tried to sit up, Lestel grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him down. With a heavy thud, pain shot through Sharhan’s back.

Sharhan winced, about to curse, then flinched. The pressure on his shoulders was growing. And the way Lestel stared down at him, those green eyes, felt almost… dangerous. No, not just dangerous.

Unfamiliar.

Those eyes seemed darker, heavier as like a deep ocean. It felt like his throat was tightening and his fingertips prickled. Tension crept in, like he was being crushed by something massive. He remembered the strange discomfort he’d felt in the carriage heading to the gambling den.

Sharhan clenched his jaw. He was nearly pinned under Lestel, feeling this bizarre unease. It pissed him off.

Lestel, of all people. Acting like this.

Just as he started to force his breath low, Lestel smirked down at him.

“Right now, I’m taller than you. About three inches?”

“You son of a- It’s not three inches!”