[ Sylvain makes a face at the mention of Miklan's 'group' because that was putting it far too tactfully. They were bandits and marauders, plain and simple. But that's the fate his brother had chosen to fall to. The only people he would ever lead. ]
An heir with a Crest in Gautier is more important than most. Or so my father believed. We're the last line of protection standing between the Kingdom and the Srengi warbands who constantly raided our borders. The Lance of Ruin was what held them at bay, therefore my father needed an heir who could wield it. Miklan was clearly never going to be that person, as I'm sure you both saw.
[ His voice is surprisingly calm and even - detached, almost, as he relays this information. Information they probably already knew - or could surmise easily enough - but it gave him a place to start. ]
It was through no fault of his own, of course, but he grew up knowing he was lacking in our father's eyes - that he would never measure up to our father's standards - and when I was born, I immediately gained everything he'd craved for himself. Something that should have been his by right of birth. [ Even though that, apparently, meant nothing. ]
To say he resented me for that would be an understatement. We... never really got along, and our father didn't help with that either. Both of us were made very aware of our roles - or lack thereof - in the family. It was a terrible situation all around. He made terrible choices, yes, but I imagine he didn't see any better ones left to him, when everything he felt should have been his... had been stolen by me.
[ That summarized most of it. And sufficiently explained what they'd overheard that day - or so he hoped. Although it was very pointedly told from his brother's perspective and left out Sylvain's point of view on almost everything - something he doesn't even realize he'd done.
His perspective had never really mattered in the scheme of things, when it came to his family and the tragedy that was his bloodline. ]
no subject
An heir with a Crest in Gautier is more important than most. Or so my father believed. We're the last line of protection standing between the Kingdom and the Srengi warbands who constantly raided our borders. The Lance of Ruin was what held them at bay, therefore my father needed an heir who could wield it. Miklan was clearly never going to be that person, as I'm sure you both saw.
[ His voice is surprisingly calm and even - detached, almost, as he relays this information. Information they probably already knew - or could surmise easily enough - but it gave him a place to start. ]
It was through no fault of his own, of course, but he grew up knowing he was lacking in our father's eyes - that he would never measure up to our father's standards - and when I was born, I immediately gained everything he'd craved for himself. Something that should have been his by right of birth. [ Even though that, apparently, meant nothing. ]
To say he resented me for that would be an understatement. We... never really got along, and our father didn't help with that either. Both of us were made very aware of our roles - or lack thereof - in the family. It was a terrible situation all around. He made terrible choices, yes, but I imagine he didn't see any better ones left to him, when everything he felt should have been his... had been stolen by me.
[ That summarized most of it. And sufficiently explained what they'd overheard that day - or so he hoped. Although it was very pointedly told from his brother's perspective and left out Sylvain's point of view on almost everything - something he doesn't even realize he'd done.
His perspective had never really mattered in the scheme of things, when it came to his family and the tragedy that was his bloodline. ]