Ojero woke to the sound of grunting followed by counting.
"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty!"
He then heard the sound of shuffling, followed by a weight hitting the floor. Suddenly, the counting started again.
"One, two, three, four, five, six…"
The counting continued for a while before more movement could be heard and another count began again.
After ten or so minutes of enduring his brother's morning routine, he finally yawned and pushed himself out of bed. His covers were in disarray, a sign of the dreams he had been having.
Ojero always had dreams, and they were usually awful. His mother liked to say it was the Goddess of Nightmares herself trying to test him.
That night he had dreamt of something important, but he couldn't for the life of him remember any of it. It was as if the dream was supposed to be a warning, or a promise, or something!
Whatever it was, he hoped to never see it again. His body seemed to recoil at the thought of it, even though he didn't know what it even was.
Banishing the memories, or lack thereof, of his nightmares, he made his way to his dresser, sparing only a glance at his twin.
Orpham was currently doing a set of sit-ups with a set of metal weights not too far from his feet. His body was covered in sweat, and the smell was already starting to get to Ojero.
Turning back to his current task, he put on a casual grey tunic over a long-sleeve white shirt and then some tan pants. Once dressed, he turned to the mirror wall of the room and studied himself.
He was tall and thin with brown hair and a slightly angular face. He wasn't the most handsome man in their duchy, but he definitely couldn't be called ugly. He had the prettiness of the nobility while also having a little roughness on the edges, courtesy of his father.
His green eyes had a hint of humor in them, making them practically sparkle when looked at.
Patting down the creases, he noticed just in time to lean back and dodge a wild punch his brother threw his way. Reeling back, he raised his right arm just in time to block the follow-up punch.
Stepping into the opening, his left hand shot forward with power, hitting his brother square in his sternum.
Orpham moved back with a cough and rubbed the area of impact before speaking.
"Damn bro, you sure know how to exploit an opening. That's not very honorable, is it? What would Mom say?"
"Honorable!? You just tried to hit me out of nowhere!"
"Well, I never claimed to listen to Mom anyway, dad says to take any chance you have!" His brother retorted, moving forward with a jab.
The two brothers engaged again, this time both of them hitting the other. Ojero landed more blows, but each one he received felt much worse than any he could ever dish out.
After a couple of minutes, they were both sprawled on the ground panting deeply. Ojero had a look of pain while his brother was all smiles.
"You're getting better at this, it used to be so easy to get you down," Orpham said, rolling his head to the side to look at his brothers.
Ojero grunted at his words, acknowledging the truth in them.
Orpham had been executing these "ambushes" for over two years now. At first, Ojero could barely protect himself and more often than not fell with a single punch. After a few months of sparring with him though, he had managed to fight back and even land a few hits of his own.
Over the years they had only gotten better, and Ojero even won a few of their fights.
Now, they would usually end in a draw, both of them sporting some bruises from each exchange. Their only rule was never to hit the face, as that would cause both of their parents to come crashing down on both of them.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ojero saw his brother slowly lean up, supporting himself with both of his hands on the bedroom floor.
"You know, we won't be able to do stuff like this very often at the Academy. Even if we share the same room, we will probably have at least two more roommates. You'll need to find a new sparring partner. Someone with a similar class schedule at least."
Rising to match his brother, Ojero winced at his aching ribs.
"What makes you think I'll want to experience this sort of thing at the Academy?"
His brother smiled knowingly.
"Because we both know we have to get used to fighting if we have any hope of surviving the war front."
Those words brought him pause.
It was true that the war was getting worse. Even with all the soldiers and mages sent to the front, little progress was being made.
More men and women were dying, to the point of many being buried in large piles with no grave markers.
As if that wasn't enough, the neighboring Everentile Empire was eyeing up their kingdom's land. The Kingdom of Riote wasn't the strongest nation, but it was a land rife with mana and magic, making it a very valuable source of mages
As it stood, once they graduated from the Academy after four years they were just as likely to have to fight other humans as they were to to fight the endless hordes of Beasts.
"What happens if one of us dies?" Ojero asked, the words leaving his mouth before he realized what he had just said.
He saw his brother's blue eyes grow wider. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
For a few minutes, they both sat there, staring at each other. Thousands of thoughts ran through their heads as they contemplated the question.
It was always a possibility, sure, but it never felt real. For years they had fantasized about fighting the Beasts, side by side, making their family's legacy even more renowned.
No matter how much they fought, joked with, or teased each other, they were always supposed to live life together. The thought of dying, of losing their other half, felt foreign and alien.
It just wasn't what was supposed to happen.
"Well, there really is only one answer," Orpham said, his tone serious as the grave.
"We make sure to clear the other's entrance to Hell so we can fight our way out of there together!" He finished with a smile.
"Besides, there's no way either of us die! I have Dad's stubbornness, and you have Mom's ambition. There isn't an obstacle the gods could create that I couldn't run through or you outsmart."
Ojero appreciated the words, but they didn't entirely alleviate his worries. It was just in his nature to worry, to try and prepare for the worst.
But how do you prepare for something that has an infinite number of possibilities? They could die at any point, in any way. Death wasn't something you could ever plan around, it came when it wanted and took whomever it pleased.
'Those who often try to prepare for Death always forget that his scythe is named Patience.' His mother had always said.
Trying to banish the third memory of the day, Ojero stood up and extended a hand to his brother, who eagerly took it. Pulling him to his feet, he let him go and then looked down at his clothes.
"You really couldn't have attacked before I got dressed? Now my outfit is all wrinkled!"
"Combat waits for no man! Or boy, in your case! Maybe you do need to practice with dad more, at this rate a stiff draft will throw you out of a window." Orpham said, quickly dodging the weak punch Ojero threw his way.
"You're lucky you already tired me out! If I still had some energy I would put you back on the ground!" He growled at his younger brother, who ran out of the room laughing.
Turning back to the dresser, he slowly peeled off his now sweat-stained tunic and shirt, mumbling curses the entire time.
'Gods damn that asshole, now I'll have to get these washed! I was really looking forward to wearing this today!'
Sighing deeply, he opened the drawer only to find himself clutching his side in pain.
A loud barrage of expletives echoed down the hallway.