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.
