((D.C.'s Note: Because 'Sigord and Circumstance' (my main project at the moment) is written as a dialogue dominant piece of writing with many crossovers, nobody but myself and my fellow coauthors know the actual personalities of the characters (namely because 'Sigord' is vaguely humorous and purposefully twists a few of them). So, 'The Way of Sagans' was written to remedy that.

Each chapter revolves around a certain set of characters that are close knit to one another. So... Chow!))

Chapter One: Death on Swift Wings

-Raevin and Näeth-

Näeth smiled at me. He's ruined my life time and time again, and yet he dares to show affection when I clearly don't want it. How dare- He's coming! The fiend, how can he ignore my bitter hate? It is only that cad that I wish to drive away with foul moods, yet my fellow soldiers now avoid me and he continues to hang around... Why?

"Well met, brother?" Näeth asked, gingerly lifting his hand, palm up, to his chest and bowing his head in the formal knights' greeting.

Brother? Raevin scowled, hunching over his bowl of soup. "What do you want? I'm not giving you any of my food if that's what you're looking for. Surely you aren't too high and mighty to beg tonight's cook for second helpings?"

Puzzled, Näeth tilted his head to the side, dropping his hand. "I know not of what you speak. There's no need to beg to our kitchen staff when they will readily see that everyone is well fed." For a moment, his innocent teal eyes looked troubled as he overlooked his friend. "And you say 'high and mighty' when it is you who is of higher status..."

"Must you take everything so literally?" hissed Raevin, glaring up from his seat on the old fallen oak's trunk. He'd wanted to be alone, hence the fact he had chosen to eat dinner beside the woods and out of camp. Apparently the annoying Näeth didn't quite understand what 'hate' was.

"Something's bothering you."

"You really think so?"

"I do."

"Idiot! You know nothing, understand nothing. You-"

"If I remember correctly, though you are a year or so my senior, you were never one to know much of anything yourself, Raevin. Forgive me if I somehow seem ignorant in your eyes, but there is not much I can do about that if you do not tell me what is troubling you."

Angered into silence, Raevin moodily stabbed at a potato in his soup. What nerve to ask what troubles me. What should he care? He is but a lordless knight, an unworthy scrap of flesh here to waste the air I breathe.

"What has happened that you no longer trust me?"

The ever so faint pleading edge to Näeth's voice rang clear in Raevin's mind.

"Raevin, we've known each other even before the times of memory. I am your blood brother." He knelt at his companion's side, setting a hand on Raevin's forearm. "I worry for you."

"I care nothing for your worry," Raevin snapped.

"Ever since you arrived here, you've been this way. Never before have you been so ready to refuse my concern. Something ails you... Has something happened at Lestor?"

Hearing the name of his house and former home, Raevin glared down at his friend. "Must you constantly nag at me?" he countered. "You've already taken the respect of everyone in camp and I have but lost it. You've slowly risen in the graces of the commanders, and I've rapidly fallen. And you of all damned beasts dared cross my liege lord, even in my presence!" He got to his feet, knocking Näeth's hand away. "You. I couldn't bring myself to believe that the one person I believed to be my one true friend could deceive me in front of my very eyes and not give it a thought. You deny it even now, vile cur."

Momentarily, pained teal eyes met wrathful gold ones in a feeble match of will. Näeth quickly looked away, falling back into the indecisive mode that emerged when codes and laws could not aid him. "Deny? I will not admit to know what you speak of."

"Now you know what it is like to be on the outside." A mischievous glint had come into Raevin's eyes as he set his bowl of unfinished soup onto the tree trunk. "Everyone knows one scrap of information that is kept away from you. Get near to a whisper or slipped word, and your fellows twist and bend their meanings to once more hide the secret that is kept from you."

"Or maybe you're just having a fit of madness."

"Yes, madness! The torture and isolation quickly lead to a weakened heart and mind. The spirit soon begins to wilt as does a weed in winter..."

"......a weed?"

"For lack of a better metaphor, I say weed!" Raevin replied icily.

"It was such an inspiring beginning of what could have been a rather impressive monologue."

"What's wrong with the weed?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing at all..."

Growling, Raevin reached down and grabbed Näeth's shirt collar. "Stop with the word games, rogue knight. You're enough trouble when you're silent."

Despite himself, Näeth chuckled. "Trouble? How very ironic to hear you all of people say."

Raevin stiffened. He'd forgotten throughout the years that it had always been he who had been caught at trouble making. Näeth had merely followed to create a liable excuse to get them out of punishment in the end. For a moment his anger melted into a deep, thoughtful confusion.

"Näeth..."

"Yes?"

"You cannot best me. Do not test my patience with your petty attempts to sway my from liege from me." Raevin's grip tightened at Näeth's collar. "Stay away from us or I'll personally kill you before you see the light of battle again." With nothing more to say, he released his captive, grabbed his soup, and lumbered back toward the sea of tents that was their camp.

The younger knight remained on his knees, red tinted dark hair veiling his oddly colored eyes and the confusion that clouded them. "Raevin's liege lord...?" He lifted his head to examine the star splattered night sky.

"He didn't sound too cheerful."

Näeth leapt to his feet. "Lady Mikaela-"

"I fully apologize for Raevin," the lady Mikaela said gruffly as she emerged from the woods. "I heard him snarling about something or another, so I suppose he's in another bad mood."

"As a knight in your service, he needs no apology given. As an old friend of mine, he must speak to me on his own."

The lady quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

The knight quickly gave the knight's salute once more. "I beg your forgiveness, my lady. I believe I spoke out of line."

"As a knight with no lord and nothing more than a title to your name, I believe you have," Mikaela responded dryly. Her departure was no more polite than Raevin's had been.

Sadly, Näeth sighed. The world was too confusing and the night too old for such happenings. Just as he was beginning the trek back to camp, a shadow leapt from the trees. Being too lost in thought to react, the shadow hit the knight in the face, nearly knocking him backward.

"Idiot," Raevin snarled, bringing back his fist. "What did I just tell you? Did you not hear me tell you to keep your distance from my liege? Do you truly seek death so much?"

Näeth, sporting a smarting cheek from the elder knight's warning punch, gave a weak smile. He gently brought a hand to the stinging red patch, which would most likely give way to bruising within the hour. "If it would bring you happiness again, may my death come on swift wings."