Castle Deiruva - a place which held a king with a golden heart. He looked after citizens, even those who were poorest were given a fair go. Though, as it seemed, someone had been scheming against His Majesty, and as such, news reached the throne that there was an outbreak of the deadly plague. "An outrage! How could this have happened?!" The king demanded the female messenger, who seemed awfully frightened by the situation. His Majesty stood from the throne, a proud man who could take the place of any of his knights if he truly needed to. "S-someone contaminated the water, and now... It's bad, really bad. No one knows if they're going to live or die. W-we need some help, Your Majesty!" The girl kept her gaze low, as the man walked over and placed a hand upon her head. "... Gentlemen, we have a job. This plague cannot be allowed to kill those we so fervently protect! I want food, water and supplies brought to these people, we shall kill this plague like we would any enemy..." "Thank you Your Majesty! I am truly honoured that you'll help us!" The bell tolled to mark the noon of that Sunday, and even at this time, the two brothers were training relentlessly to further their swordsmanship. Being privileged enough to be within the castle grounds, the two lads were born noble and as such were given a seemingly normal life, far away from those who made the effort to work each and every day. Unfazed by this knowledge, Broderick swung his sword into the dummy, just about cleaving the hay and cloth fixture into the next age. "Ah... It feels good to draw blades, yet a lack of opponents who we can truly test metal with. Do you not agree, Brother?" He looked over to the man who was training at the opposite end of the grounds they stood, no other men were in the immediate vicinity, as it was prime time for the rituals to God.