Brothers

Ever since his visit to Dalaran with his father, Arthas had been unable to focus on his studies for several days. A single day of interaction was all it took for the girl's cheerfulness and charm to leave a deep impression on the prince, who had grown up within the confines of the royal palace.

In a sense, Jaina was the first true friend he had made among his peers. As for the others—whether it was his younger brother, a genius who made him feel inferior, or the noble children who acted with such caution around him—none could be considered his real friends.

Back when he had first come to understand the world, his father, the King of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, had told him that the noble children surrounding him would one day be his subjects. As the heir to the kingdom, he had to be wary when dealing with them, learning to use tactics to control and divide them. Consequently, he could never truly relax when in the company of his peers.

As for Alvin, who at only seven years old could already cast first-circle divine magic, Arthas loved his frail younger brother dearly. Yet, the boy's talent and the praise he received from their elders made it difficult for Arthas to suppress the envy and the budding jealousy in his heart.

He, Arthas, was the first in line to the throne of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the future master of the realm! But in the eyes of the young prince, whether it was his father or his mother, everyone only had eyes for his genius younger brother, ignoring him, the elder.

Because of this, although Arthas had always been protective of his brother, perfectly embodying the spirit of an older sibling, there remained a barrier in his heart toward Alvin. After all, having a brother who was a renowned genius was a heavy burden for a child like him to bear.

It was then that the girl had burst into his world. Unlike the noble children who would one day be his "subjects," he did not need to be on his guard with her. Unlike his genius brother, being with her did not fill him with immense pressure. Thus, she became the first true friend Prince Arthas had ever known.

He had originally hoped that his understanding younger brother could help him vent his frustrations, but he had just learned that Alvin was to accompany Archbishop Alonsus Faol to Stratholme, where he would stay for at least half a year.

This plan had been decided by his father only this morning, and the departure time for Alvin and the Archbishop was set for tomorrow. It seemed like a hasty decision; his father, who usually kept everything in perfect order, had likely arranged this on the spur of the moment.

Faced with the impending separation, the petty grievances Arthas had harbored toward his brother vanished instantly. If not for the deep-seated awe he felt for his father, the usually rule-abiding prince would have marched right up to him to demand an explanation for his brother's sake.

Yes, an explanation. To young Arthas, it must have been that his brother had done something to displease their father, causing him to fly into a rage and banish Alvin to Stratholme to suffer. Therefore, he decided to go and offer his brother some comfort, to show the true character of an older brother.

Regrettably, the scene he had imagined—his brother sulking alone in his room—did not exist; Alvin looked as happy as if he were about to go on an outing. The prince stood cautiously outside the window, watching his brother hum a little tune while nimbly checking the bags and luggage already packed by the maids.

For some reason, watching Alvin's relaxed expression, a nameless feeling welled up in the prince's heart—

He had completely forgotten his original intention to comfort his brother; instead, he began to envy the boy's carefree nature and the trust their father placed in him. If he were to go on such a long journey, he feared not only his father would object, but even his mother, who doted on him, would forbid it.

He was the older brother, but he wondered if, in the eyes of others, he had ever surpassed this younger brother in any way other than the time of his birth?

Arthas did not want to think about this question, nor did he dare to. How could the future heir to the Kingdom of Lordaeron be jealous of and intimidated by his own brother's talent? Such cowardly behavior was not becoming of a man of the Menethil line.

The prince, who had intended to show his brother the magnanimity of an elder, slowly retreated from the window back into the hallway. He wanted to go and pour out his troubles to his mother—could it be that he was truly a useless brother?

Arthas trotted toward the nearby palace. After passing two groups of guards, he arrived outside his parents' chambers. It was still afternoon, and his father was always diligent with state affairs, so only his mother should be inside. But before he could push the door open, he heard the faint sound of his parents arguing.

"Terenas, Alvin is still so young, how could you..."

The Queen's voice was sharp, but her tone dropped toward the end of the sentence, and the prince seemed to hear the sound of weeping from within.

"Alvin is a genius, but Arthas is the future King of Lordaeron. Given Alvin's talent, for the sake of the future stability of Lordaeron, I have no choice but to make this decision. Archbishop Faol will teach Alvin how to become a true lord, and once he comes of age..."

Terenas's voice was full of vigor, carrying clearly through the door to the prince's ears. At that moment, Arthas felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar—so, the reason his brother was being sent to Stratholme was not because he had angered their father, but because of his own incompetence?

Arthas slipped away quietly and began to wander aimlessly through the palace. The afternoon sun shone warmly upon him, but the prince felt only helplessness and fear.

A warm spring breeze blew through the courtyard, and the boy curled his body up as if startled, reaching his hand into his pocket. There, he felt a gold coin he had been keeping, one he hadn't had the chance to return.

Arthas held the coin up toward the sun. The golden radiance reflected by the coin was blinding, but Arthas was not distracted by it; instead, he looked at the small inscription on the coin—I hope my brother Arthas can make the right choices and become a kind and wise king.

For some reason, the prince's eyes suddenly grew moist, and crystalline tears fell.

"Arthas, so you're here!"

Behind him came the voice of his sister, Calia. She had come to find Arthas to help their youngest brother, Alvin, pack his luggage. However, the young girl discovered that her usually strong brother was crying all by himself.

"Why are you crying?"

Faced with his sister's inquiry, the boy nervously wiped his face and pulled himself together. "It's nothing, the sun was too bright."

He was the future King of Lordaeron; he could not let down the expectations of his parents, his sister, and his brother. Arthas followed his sister back to Alvin's quarters. This time, there was no more envy or jealousy in his heart, only a reluctance to part with his brother and love for his family.

Although Alvin had already checked the luggage prepared for tomorrow himself, Calia, as the older sister, decided that she, the "adult," should check it once more.

While the girl was busy nearby, Arthas pulled his brother into a corner of the room, placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, stared intently into his eyes with a sincere gaze, and said solemnly, "Alvin, I will become a good king, I swear it!"

Although Arthas's inexplicable behavior left Alvin a bit confused, he would not easily dampen a child's confidence. He looked at the earnest expression on the other's face, assumed a solemn posture, and nodded. "Of course, I believe in you, my brother."

Meanwhile, back in the study, Terenas sat before his desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the map spread out on the table. It was a scaled-down map of Azeroth, but it only showed the general outlines of the three continents; Kalimdor and Northrend appeared only as corners on the map.

After a long while, the King seemed to have made up his mind. He picked up the quill resting to the side and drew a circle around both Kalimdor and Northrend.