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Ah...

Who was that? Another familiar face.

“Your brother by blood,” said the voice.

Haqq. Right.

It was good to see him. After everything.

Everything? What was everything?

Eh... Too much work to recall.

Haqq was at a table, laboring over something as usual. Research notes, it looked like. The expression on his face spoke of frustration.

That, too, was quite normal, Asad knew. When it came to research, Haqq had always tried to keep up an appearance of ease and confidence, but Asad knew how hard his brother worked. How much effort he was constantly putting in.

And how miserable it made him, more often than not.

It was something that Asad had never really understood. Why pretend? Why not let more people know how difficult his work was? Personally, Asad had always appreciated his brother’s determination to keep pushing, even if he hadn’t always appreciated the inventions that resulted.

“You have never realized?” asked the voice.

Hmm? Realized what?

“Your brother believes that his reputation is everything. And where his work is concerned, he may be right. One is not regarded as a genius through hard work alone. One must achieve great results--and so much the better if it can be made to look easy in front of others.”

Reputation? Did Haqq really care about that so much? Asad had never gotten that impression. Haqq always seemed so detached from the world. So immersed in his projects.

“Ah. A pitiable blind spot, Young Lion.”

What?

“Your brother has lived beside the divine power of our clan for most of his life. Beside the new Lion of the Desert. Have you given not a thought to how that has impacted him?”

He was suddenly reminded of their youth, long before either of them became servants. Haqq had followed him everywhere, pestered him constantly, wanting to be involved in everything he did.

Quintessential behavior of a little brother.

Asad wanted to smile, but he wasn’t sure if he even possessed a mouth, right now.

“You have forgotten,” said the voice. “Perhaps that is not surprising.”

Forgotten? Forgotten what?

The world sped by again, but this time, when it slowed back down, Asad saw his younger self standing there. And Haqq, too.

They were on a balcony. A familiar one. Flanked by mounds of sand that twinkled in the morning sun.

Dunehall, he recalled. Yes. This was outside his childhood bedroom. One of his favored spots, growing up. The view of downtown Moaban from here was incredible, and the mountain of sand that covered most of the castle made this little balcony feel like a hiding spot, of sorts, what with the way it peeked out from a little hole in said mountain.