Chapter 12: A Gift For Lisa
"Brother!"
Rumia approached her gaze fixed on her older brother with the kind of disappointment that could wither a grown man.
I watched the interaction unfold, noting how she carried herself with the natural authority of someone accustomed to managing difficult situations. Her hands were already moving to her hips before she even reached us, a gesture I’d seen countless times over the years whenever she prepared to dress down her troublesome sibling.
"Are you picking fights again?"
Alric’s face contorted with rage, his jaw clenching as he whirled to face his sister. "Shut it! It has nothing to do with you!" The words exploded from him like a cornered animal’s snarl, spittle flying as his voice rose to near-shouting levels.
But Rumia didn’t even flinch. If anything, her stance became more resolute, her chin lifting with stubborness. "It has everything to do with me! Father specifically asked me to make sure you don’t cause problems. You’re going to be the next village chief, succeeding father—remember? Do you want everyone in the village to hate you before you even take the role?"
The transformation in Alric was almost comical to witness. The bombastic rage that had filled him moments before seemed to deflate like a punctured waterskin. His shoulders sagged, and for just an instant, I glimpsed something almost vulnerable in his expression—the weight of expectations he clearly wasn’t ready to bear.
This village is truly doomed if this fool takes over. At least Aldan was a bastard with some competence. This one will run everything into the ground within a year.
The mention of their father and the responsibilities that came with leadership seemed to strike Alric like a physical blow. His hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly uncurled. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away, his footsteps heavy with wounded pride and barely suppressed anger.
Perhaps there’s some hope for him after all, I mused, watching his retreating figure. At least he recognizes authority when it’s properly applied.
"Phew." Rumia let out a long breath, her entire demeanor shifting as the tension drained from her shoulders. When she turned toward us, her expression had transformed completely—gone was the stern authority, replaced by genuine embarrassment and concern. "I’m so sorry about my brother. He can be... difficult."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Mia," Rosaluna said warmly. My sister stepped closer to Rumia, her body language open and welcoming in a way that still surprised me.