Chapter 32: Family and Farewell

The Bretheren Arcanum reassembled with Zentarou's family in the library after a tour of the castle by Zantar. It was a warm place, a home full of love and happiness. In fact, it felt so much like a normal home that every now and then they had to get a good look around to reassure the fact that it was a castle. There was only one hint of sadness, in the form of a painting that was obviously done when the princes were much younger, perhaps under six years old. In it were the king, his sons, and a beautiful feline woman with honey-colored hair and deep green eyes.

"Who's that?" asked Vivi when they passed it, indicating the woman. A shadow seemed to seep into Zantar's eyes when he looked upon her, yet he smiled fondly.

"That was Queen Adreana, Zentarou and my mother. She - " He swallowed hard. " - was murdered when we were six."

"I'm sorry," Dregan instantly replied, but Zantar shook his head.

"The Lioness smiled upon her in life, and I do not doubt in death as well. She died fighting to defend her family from invaders. We are all very proud of her." They didn't ask more on the subject as he showed them to the library, where they met the other members of Zentarou's family, the Princess Zatana, Zantar's wife, and their two twin children, Zyton - named after a hero of the Sir-Kai people - and Adrea - named after the brave queen. Zatana was an exotic lady a lioness not from anywhere on Talsdia and bearing a smooth half-oval sapphire on her forehead, a trait she passed on to her two children, who were lion in face, but with gray fur and manes, taking their coloring from their father. Zentarou joined them there, having changed into fresh purple robes sporting a symbol stitched over his heart, the Triple Rings of his father - a triangular configuration of a blue, an orange, and a purple ring - and the crest of his uncle - a tree branch encircled by a red ring. The branch was situated a little lower than the triple rings, separated by a diagonal line. Zantar wore a similar crest over his head on his tunic, but it was just the Triple Rings, and he'd said it meant that he was heir to Northern Caine, and Zentarou heir to Southern Caine, but born in Northern Caine.

"Now," said Zentor, "son, maybe you cal tell us what happened to you." Again the tale was told, from his capture and escape, to their adventures thus far, and even of the attack on Eternal, and the curse.

"You think these attacks are connected." It was more of a statement from Zantar than a question, but the mages nodded anyhow.

"We hurt them this fight," said Dregan, "so it might buy us some time." Then Vivi finally asked the question the three mages were wondering.

"Zentarou, why didn't you tell us?" At that, the feline mage somewhat ruefully rubbed the back of his neck.

"Honestly, I didn't think to mention it. And not," he said quickly, "out of any sense of trying to act like I wasn't, or to hide it. It's more like I forgot."

"Forgot? Trolly-molly." Zantar chuckled.

"That sounds like my brother," he teased, getting a brotherly cuff on the shoulder.

"I'm just not used to thinking of myself as a prince," explained Zentarou. "And I know my brother would say the same thing. We're not royalty, we're - just people."

"Who rule entire kingdoms," commented Vivi. Zentor laughed.

"Good wit," he complimented, and Vivi modestly adjusted his hat. "But me son is right. We don't like setting ourselves above the people we serve. The first king, our ancestor, was elected into rulership by the people who helped him build this city, and we try to never forget that fact. In fact, he tried to deny it for a while, until two dear friends of his convinced him to accept."

"Heh," huffed Rycharde, pausing to sip his class of wine, "we're equals to every other Sir'Kai, elf, human, or otherwise. Just ask any guard." He laughed to himself as if at an inside joke. Zantar shook his head, amused.

"Ignore him," he advised. "Uncle has the body and mind of a Sir'Kai, the soul of an elf, and the blend tends to make him act strangely at times." This statement got him a swat on the ears for his trouble, and a laugh from the others.

For the rest of the time they had, Zentarou showed them around the city with his family. They viewed the circular fountain at the heart of the city, which statues of the royal family and a vixen and elf whom Zentarou called heroes of Northern. Vivi pointed out that the elf had a sword like Zentarou, who credited the elf with the reshaping of his blade into its current shape. He let them sample a 'national treat' in the form on an elven-made cheese. Even Dregan, who was an elf, had to admit it was great. They viewed the coliseum, where the tournament of the Kylado Spring Festival was held with everything from archery competitions and armed combat, to wizard's duels and jousts upon the massive elven warhorses, uncannily intelligent - as much as a human at least - and as large as Clydesdales, bonded to their riders as a mage and his familiar, or a paladin and his mount.

As the departure hour neared with the setting of the sun, Zentarou excused himself from the Bretheren's company so as to spend time with his family. This they gladly gave, resting in the library as Zentarou sparred with his brother, father, and uncle, and entertained his sister-by-marriage, niece, and nephew with spells.

But the time soon came for the mages to leave. They gathered in the courtyard of the palace, where Zentarou tearfully embraced his family.

"You come back safe, hear me?" Tears choked Zentor's voice.

"I will," Zentarou promised, before turning to embrace his uncle.

"Can't go losing one hair, can we? You be careful." Zatana nor her children said much past words of love, and well wishes. Then the twins said good-bye.

"Keep me in your soul, brother," Zantar whispered.

"Nothing can sever out bond," Zentarou replied, before stepping away to join the other Bretheren. The cubes shook, the air wavered, and they vanished once more.