Rheas Pavone was bored. As the eldest son of Baron Alistair Pavone, it fell upon him to follow his father on the inspection tour of his lands. As interesting as all the lessons on statesmanship were, he yearned to be back at the keep, away from the dust and sweat of the road. He parted the curtains of the carriage slightly as he watched the mountains, colourfully clad in their autumnal garb, flash past. The soldiers riding on their massive black dire wolves flanked the carriage on both sides to prevent an ambush from the mountain bandits.

He prayed to any deity that was listening for them to be foolish or desperate enough to attack the convoy of the Baron himself. His new blade needed to be baptised in the blood of the damned. Well… actually all he wanted was a reprieve from the mind-numbing tedium.

Apparently, the Gods had better things to do than entertain the complaints of a hormonal teenager as no attack befell them. Rheas Pavone was bored. He felt justified in feeling that way as the entire trip had been dreary. They would disembark at a village, receive the welcome of the villagers, inspect the ledgers presented by the palace-trained concubines of the village lords, maltreat their stomachs with some plebeian fare at the banquet in their honour and move on the next morning.

Actually, he failed to get the point of these inspections. The concubines clearly had their husbands whipped. With a hand on their cocks and lips to their ears, the women seemed to be on top of the situation in all senses of the term. Maybe being henpecked came with the region. He looked at the couple sitting across from him.

The man was tall and broad shouldered with dark curls that neatly flowed to his shoulders. The woman was extremely beautiful, the years and two children having failed to mark her. They sat in meditation, eyes closed, breath even, unaffected by the rough road and dust. Rheas had inherited his curly locks and square jaw while his mother had left her mark on him in the form of his almond-shaped emerald eyes. Cyn on the other hand had inherited his mother’s straight black hair, softer facial features and his father’s deep set dark eyes.

Speaking of henpecked husbands, he had never seen his gentle mother raise her voice. Not even at the servant who had accidentally spoiled the sweater she had been knitting for Cyn for over half a year. Well, if you call getting paid to do so by him an accident. What? He had been young, impetuous and jealous of the bookworm for hogging mother’s attention. If she was a hen, she had the bluntest of beaks.

On the other hand, that succubus in human form, Luxuria, was the scourge of all men. His poor teenage body could not stand the continuous titillation and just at the point where he would snap, she would leave with a sensuous chuckle, leaving him hot and dry. Hmm… come to think of it Gloria would always pop out at those times and regard him as if he were a maggot and proceed to ‘punish’ him. Could they be in cahoots?

Thinking of Gloria’s ‘punishments’ he felt himself getting hard, ‘Down boy, not in a confined space with the parents. Anyway, I couldn’t possibly be aroused by that shrew’s insubordination. She needs to know who the master is in the relationship.’, he desperately thought.

Calming down somewhat, he sneaked a glance at the buxom brunette meditating by his side, her hair forming a fiery halo in the sunlight leaking from the window. No matter how many times he saw her, she took his breath away. Feeling his gaze, she opened her eyes and looked at him inquisitively before her gaze fell on the bulge in his pants. Her vision was immediately tinged with disdain and disgust. Snorting contemptuously, she went back to meditating.

Rheas’ self-worth dived into the negatives as he felt himself stiffen further. He sighed dejectedly, he had fallen too far.

After an interminable time spent depressed by his masochism, a signal from the convoy guards alerted him to the proximity of Peacock City. Home. Finally.

---

Cyn awoke to find the grinning face of his brother inches from his face. Deciding that it was a nightmare, he closed his eyes again.

Rheas was having none of it. “Oi, oi, oi. Brother dearest, you cannot be seriously planning to feign sleep when I, your magnanimous Elder Brother, have come to visit you on your sickbed. I spent two months on the road, fulfilling my duty as the heir of the Pavone clan so you could spend leisurely and carefree days with your books and contraptions.

I haven’t even washed off the dirt from our travels yet. This is unforgivable, it calls for a penalty so severe that even the Gods will weep.” With that, he pounced on Cyn, who had blocked his ears with a pillow when he had started to mouth off, tickling him till he was a squirming mess of laughter and tears.

When he stopped, both of them were panting from the exertion. Straightening up, Rheas looked at his brother with a serious face and said, “I heard you got into a tussle with your steward. Want Elder brother to share his experience about the proper place and postures for a good ‘tussle’?”

Driven beyond the limits of forbearance, Cyn threw his pillow at him yelling, “SHUT UP!”, groaning as his throbbing headache grew in intensity.

Baron Pavone and his wife entered the room to find Rheas, laughing boisterously, with a pillow in his hand while Cyn lay curled up while clutching his head.

Rheas shrivelled at a disappointed stare from his mother as she rushed past him to fuss over Cyn. He felt a spike of jealousy flare in him as he remembered all the times he had to be a ‘responsible elder brother’ and concede his mother’s affection to Cyn.

Standing sullenly to the side, he suddenly felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and looked up to find his usually severe eyes looking at him with encouragement and expectation. His back straightened immediately and the haze in his innermost feelings cleared up.

There was nothing to be jealous of. The useless bookworm had been beaten and humiliated enough by his own servant. Just before his awakening ceremony too. It was his duty as the elder brother to encourage him and ensure that his morale did not deflate from adversity.

His delusions of superiority were crushed as he heard his father ask, “Cyn, who taught you your martial arts. How did you get proficient enough to beat a newly awakened by the body of a mortal without alerting us?”

“It was my talent.” Came the unflustered reply. “I’ve always been able to move each muscle of my body independently.” He demonstrated by wriggling the muscles of his forearm. “Seeing that no one else could, I felt I was a freak and hid it until I was sensible enough to know what a blessing it was. I’ve never trained in martial arts not because I didn’t want to but because I never needed to.”

“Ira somehow got wind of it and suddenly attacked me to compel my secret. It resulted in us knocking each other out. How’s she doing by the way?”

Rheas tuned out the rest of the conversation as Cyn’s casual words reverberated in his ears. How arrogant could a person be? Talent? Didn’t need to train?! Then what had he been doing all his life? Despite his taunts and name-calling, Cyn Pavone was a brilliant mind who had innovated the design of the recently invented steam engine and been invited to the Academy for it.

He had kept his sense of superiority by his pride in his martial achievement and now with a single word, talent, it had been stripped from him. Now, all he had was his status as the Baron’s eldest son, the heir to their estates. Wait… maybe it wasn’t an advantage anymore. He would be compared, contrasted and found lacking.

His mind in turmoil, he found himself alone in his unlit room. He didn’t know how he had come here or when, but his turbulent jealousy gushed out of him along with his Aura, condensing a curved dagger, composed entirely of emerald, with a handle that fitted his hand perfectly. It glinted green under the moonlight that filtered in through the windows.

As he gazed upon it, a ghastly grin parted his lips as its name came to his mind.

Invidia: The Dagger of Envy.