"Wait, you brat." Seeing the boy essentially about to commit suicide, Alexander hurriedly pulled the boy by the arm and stopped him.
"Let, me, go. I am also Nestoras's guard. I have to join him." Remus spelled out.
"Idiot, you want to die with them that badly. Why didn't you go earlier then" Alexander scolded the boy for his poor logic.
Then he sternly said, "Now, listen to me. You going there isn't going to help Romeus at all. In fact, it will have the opposite effect. Do you get it?"
"But still I gotta try," Remus said in a pained voice, as he still tried to slip out of Alexander's grasp.
So why would Remus being there have the opposite effect?
Because Romeus was a jealous, talentless piece of a hack.
Even though Remus was light years more talented than Romeus, he never treated his brother differently.
In fact, he always tried to share his spoils with him as much as possible.
He would try to teach Romeus the swordplay that Nestoras taught him.
He would share the extra food and money he got.
He even got him a cushy job as Nestoras's guard, for which he had to do a bucket ton of chores.
But he was happy to do this, to help his brother-his only kin in the world.
But did Romeus see and appreciate these efforts?
No, not for a second.
Because you see, the thing that's worse than having an overachieving brother is having an over-achieving brother who likes to gloat and show off.
At least, that's how it appeared in Romeus's eyes.
Every time Remus would share something, instead of looking at it like something Remus was doing to help him or just sharing it with his brother, he would look at it like Remus was flaunting his achievements, taunting him and saying that he could never be equal to him.
As such, Romeus slowly began to change.
After all, sometimes. familiarity breeds contempt like no other.
He began to despise the 'charity' given by Remus and would actively try to ignore or do the opposite of it.
Although he did take that cushy guard duty job. In that case, Romeus was more than happy and willing to exploit and accept Remus's gift because it suited him.
Alexander, of course, pointed this out to Remus but still, he continued to do this because he felt that his brother was just foolish and ignorant and it was his job to take of him, even if he did not want it.
As the boy relentlessly against his vice grip, Alexander decided to use his trump card, the god card to get him to calm down.
"He chose his fate. The gods have written it. Who are you to challenge the gods?" He said.
"But, I can't just let him die without doing anything." The boy repeated like a broken recorder.
"Yes, you can." Alexander felt his temper rise and snapped.
"You,… you,.. how can you say that?" Remus stopped struggling and turned to look at Alexander incredulously.
How could he tell him to just watch his brother die?
Seeing his red, snot-dripping face and the anger in his sky-blue eyes, Alexander was suddenly reminded of something.
It was not his problem.
Certainly, he liked the boy. He had talent, was quick-witted, and even funny.
But at the end of the day, this didn't concern him.
It was between them brothers, between family.
As a stranger what right did he have to obstruct them?
So he suddenly let go of the boy's hand and solemnly said, "I am sorry. Please do what do think is best."
"What?" At last free, the ecstatic boy was about to run off when Alexander's solemn apology made him stop in his tracks.
He had never heard Alexander speak like that before.
Alexander repeated, "It's not right for me to stop you. You want to go to your brother, please, go."
Although this sounded like good news, Remus was actually more concerned.
"Why are you speaking like that Alexander?" He asked, his extremely sharp senses picking up the now cold detached tone from the previous warm, concerned one.
It seemed like Alexander stopped caring about him.
"It is very possible your brother will die today. I don't want you to blame me later that I didn't let you save your brother. Go, if you want to go." Alexander fully disclosed.
"Will he really die?" Remus asked, shivering in fright.
What Alexander said was gonna happen, usually tended to happen.
"Most likely." Alexander coldly replied.
"Will me going there help? Remus asked a question he knew the answer to.
"No. He went there to prove to you that you are wrong and he is right. You going there will only spur him on to be even more reckless." Alexander confirmed his suspicions.
The boy, expecting such an answer, simply stared at the ground for a while and then declared in a steely voice."Alright, I won't go. As you said, I can't help Romeus. He has chosen his path and I shouldn't stop him. The gods have written his fates and who am I to challenge them?" He finished with a quote Alexander told him.
"Are you sure? You can still catch up. Don't let it become a regret for the rest of your life." Alexander pressed.
"Umm, I will that pray you are wrong and the gods have written blessed fortune for my brother." He said in a choking voice, now tears suddenly streaming from his eyes.
Then he turned and started running towards the camp, his tear drops staining the soil.
Remus felt that if he stayed there any longer longing at his brother's back, even if his brain told him not to go, his heart would force him to go.
Such a situation would not be favorable for either of them.
So he decided to shield his sight from his brother's image and retreat into the silently observing crowd.
"*Sigh*, this war is tearing us apart" From the side, Menes let out a long breath after silently witnessing the conversation.
And Alexander could not help but agree.
A mercenary group whose leader goes to battle with less than a hundred soldiers while most chooses not to follow doesn't likely have a bright future.
Regardless if they win or lose, this mercenary group's days were probably numbered.
Glancing at the back of Remus, Alexander muttered, in admiration "Such immense willpower. To want to do something so much yet stopping oneself from doing it. I wish I had one-tenth his willpower when I was his age,"
And although no one knew it, today's incident would stay with Remus for his entire life, shaping, moulding and sculpting many major decisions of his life.