The Lords of Windermere

"What's the matter, afraid he can't handle it?" Fabian glanced at him. He wasn't as restless as his friend. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, he folded his arms in front of him.

Demetrius shook his head. "It isn't that," he said, pulling his sword out of the dirt. "He's headstrong. Not to mention, overconfident." He swung the blade a few more times. "It's an unfavorable combination," he added.

"Does that remind you of anyone?" Fabian teased.

"I'll admit I was arrogant at times, but I could always smell defeat. I was never quite as impulsive." Demetrius smiled sheepishly. He hadn't forgotten the times Fabian had rescued him before he met his demise. "Nicholas, well, he thinks he's invincible." He grew serious. "And Ayden's too trusting. He isn't perceptive of debauchery as his brothers. Then there's Lucian." He paused and laughed with subservient pride. "How righteous he is. But at times, he's impetuous, yet blameless. Especially, when he believes it's unjust. He surprises you."

"They've matured since I last saw them," Fabian said with an affable chuckle. "They'll be all right, Demetrius."

The duke gave a feeble smile as he returned his steel to the scabbard. It was exhausting, being a sentry at his age, but he had to continue for the sake of his sons.