The Fifth Academy - Fantasy Direction / #Wattys2018

Chapter twenty-one. Waking up.

By Jason

The next morning I sincerely wished to be killed as quickly as possible. My whole body is soar, the injured back is throbbing with constant pain, my head fells like it's going to shatter to a thousand pieces.

"Oh, kill me somebody." I muttered, licking my dry lips.

"Be silent, son, when your father is speaking with you!" Boomed a familiar strong and loud voice, which belonged to the Great Commander Alexander.

I wished he hadn't come so soon to torture me, "Do you know, Jason Firesteel, how many rules you have broken? I demand strait answers from you, son! Turn to me! Show me your face! Look me in the eyes!" Demands the great commander with a strict voice.

I groaned in pain and managed to open my left eye only.

"My Lord-father!" I croaked pitifully, "Where is the doctor-sorcerer? Why he still didn't fix my back?"

My father sighed very deeply with indignation. I immediately hurried to open my right eye and did everything to keep it fixed on The Commander – a very tall, broad-shouldered man with a piercing gaze of cold gray eyes and dark long hair, fastened in a ponytail.

His facial expression looked like he was visiting the enemy's den instead of his injured son. Daddy wore his full gear – white leather with shining polished silver armor and traditional crimson-red cloak. Thank goodness, he didn't have his weapons with him. Strict and self-confident Commander was still very handsome and looked not a day older than forty-five, although in fact his age could be measured in centuries. Ancient, immortal, noble, strong and powerful. That was him, my loving Daddy.

"What you have done was brave enough, son," said he, examining me with his cold sharp gray eyes, like a rider would review his dragon before the long trip, "but it was more stupid and inconsiderate. Do you know, what is the most important thing for army? What's its soul?" He asked, his eyes piercing through my own.

'Cancellation of all punishments and a nice long holiday!' I urged to say, but instead closed my tired, sore lips and answered in husky, but quite steady voice. "Any army needs a wise tactician at its head. Just like you, father."

"Commander Alexander, Sub Lieutenant Jason," he corrected abruptly and continued as if I hadn't spoken at all.

If you haven't noticed, he'd just dumped my rank almost to the lowest one. Before the punishment, I was Lieutenant Colonel or so to say almost the right hand of my older brother Arest. He was a twenty seven old dodger, a pure genius of tactics and war-craft, but also favorite and true heir of his... I mean our father. Arest had been taught everything and anything by the best teachers and commanders, he was born to be the leader, to be the best of the best. Without a doubt, he was: handsome, tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, just like father, with sharp cold-gray eyes and noble face, but also deadly strong and smart.

His younger brother or, as easy to guess – me, had been always in his brother's big dark shadow – always the second, never good enough, professional troublemaker and tomboy.

If Ares was the true general – born to order and rule, I - on the contrary, was a faithful solder – bold, fair, hale and hardy. I could do almost any task and carry out any order. Except, perhaps, being a true son of my father and stopping to disgrace my family. I didn't envy Arest at all, on the contrary – I was proud of him and tried hard to follow his example. But, unfortunately, we were very different, like day and night, ice and fire.

Had Arest lowered the Iron whip a little gentler, knowing, that his brother's back had crackled under it? Maybe, but I didn't think so. He was too principle and law-obedient for that.