Twin Flames: The Eastern Chronicles

After days of travel through the forest, the brothers finally emerge from the dense foliage to find a rugged, rocky landscape. The terrain is filled with valleys and plateaus, and the air is dry and arid. In the distance, they see the black sea, the water sparkling in the bright sunlight. Its vastness and power is a stark contrast to the terrain they just navigated, and they can hear the noise of people and activity coming from the shoreline. The brothers look out at the black sea, the vast expanse of water stretching out to the horizon. The sounds of people and activity can be heard from the shoreline, the noise of a busy port echoing across the terrain. They both realize that this must be their destination, the place where they will find the city and complete their mission. With a shared look of determination, the brothers begin their descent towards the shoreline. The terrain is difficult and rocky, but they move carefully and with purpose, their eyes fixed on the bustling port ahead of them. The sounds and smells of the sea, the merchants, sailors and travelers begin to fill their senses, growing louder and more distinct as they get closer to the shoreline.

As the brothers approach the shoreline, they begin to draw a lot of glances and stares. They are both strikingly tall and broad, not to mention towheaded, making them stand out significantly among the crowd. Many people stare with a mixture of curiosity and wariness at the sight of barbarians. Some of the stares are tinged with attraction as well, a few women in particular giving the brothers lingering looks with interest and desire. Oleksandr and Thekkur ignore the stares, their minds focused solely on getting to the city and completing their mission. They continue through the port, drawing more and more attention as they go. They can almost feel the eyes of the people around them following their every move, like a pair of rare and exotic animals on display in a market place.

The brothers come across a foot soldier in the military garb of the Eastern Roman Empire, passing them by, wandering the market at the port, and they stop him. He looks at the two rugged men with surprise and curiosity, somewhat taken aback. But Oleksandr and Thekkur seem serious and determined, and the soldier listens as Thekkur explains their situation in broken Georgian. The soldier nods, understanding their situation.

“Ah,” he says, “you want to speak to the recruiter about the draft, I see.” The man looks at the brothers, taking in their barbaric appearances, muscled physiques and imposing height. He nods, the look in his eyes betraying a sense of respect and camaraderie. He answers in Georgian, “Yes, the recruiter is not far. I will take you to him.”

With a motion of his head, they follow the man, their exotic presence attracting even more glances and stares from the crowd as they walk. The soldier leads the brothers through the packed and bustling port, weaving through the crowds of merchants, sailors and travelers. The brothers walk side by side, not bothering to look around or talk to each other, their focus entirely on following the guard to the recruiter. After some time, he leads the brothers to a recruitment tent on the outskirts of the port. There are other men waiting to sign up, all talking amongst themselves and waiting their turn. The man turns to the brothers, a look of expectation on his face. Oleksandr and Thekkur nod in thanks, their gratitude sincere. The soldier nods back, his expression still somewhat awed by the brothers, like he still can't believe their size and resemblance. He gestures to the tent.

“The recruiter is there. Good luck, my brothers.”

After waiting in the line for an excruciatingly long and sweaty time, the brothers enter the tent, the inside dim and a bit hot from the sun outside. A man in Roman garb sits on a stool at the far end, busy with some paperwork. He looks up as the brothers enter, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight of the two, gigantic blonde men. He seems a bit taken aback as the twins approach, but he quickly composes himself and leans over the table. He nods, his voice neutral with a hint of curiosity.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“Eh, yes, we come to fight.” The recruiter listens patiently as the brothers speak, understanding their broken Georgian. He nods, realizing they are volunteering for the army. He looks them up and down, taking in their appearances. He can tell that they are strong and will make excellent fighters.

“Ah, I see. You want to join the army, yes? To fight?”

“Aye.” The recruiter nods. He's not surprised; his job is to bring in men volunteering for the army in hopes of glory and fortune. He looks the brothers up and down again, his eyes lingering on their barbaric attire. He speaks again, his voice a bit more enthusiastic now.

“Excellent. The army always needs new men. And strong men like you will make excellent fighters. Do you have any prior experience in fighting or combat?”

“You know Rus?” The man looks taken aback at the abrupt question, before nodding and switching to their language.

“Yes, I am familiar.”

Oleksandr switches to his native tongue. “Yes, we have plenty of fighting experience. We have fought all our lives, as gladiators and mercenaries.” He had expected them to have experience, given their appearances, but the mention of being gladiators and mercenaries seems to take him a bit by surprise. He speaks again, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and respect.

“Ah, I see. Gladiators and mercenaries, hm? Then you must have seen much combat and bloodshed.”

“Plenty.” The man nods, his gaze sweeping over the brothers again, as if to assess their abilities. He can easily imagine both of them on a battlefield, powerful and brutal. He speaks again, his words full of appreciation.

“I can tell. Men like you are rare. Strong, skilled and experienced. You will be priceless in battle, I am certain.”

Thekkur leans his hands on the table, his voice low and curious. “This... Varangian guard, a monk informed us about it. We are interested.” The recruiter's interest is piqued at the mention of the Varangian Guard. He listens closely as the brothers mention it, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“The Varangian Guard is quite selective. It's not up to me who joins them, but I can put in a word for you. They only recruit the best of the best. Lucky for you, they are typically Rus and various other Northmen. Are you certain you're up to the task?”

“Yes. We are worthy.”

“To become a member of the Guard, you will need more than just determination and strength. You'll need discipline, courage, and the ability to follow orders without question.”

“We understand. Go on, sign us.”

The recruiter nods, somewhat impressed by the brothers' resolve and confidence. He knows that these men fit the bill, and seem to have iron will written on their battle scarred faces. It's just not common to see Varangian stock in an unassuming port in Georgia. He gestures towards a large parchment and quill pen on a nearby desk.

“Very well then, let's get started. First I need some basic information. Name, age, origin, previous experience, that sort of thing.” Oleksandr picks up the quill and looks at the parchment and the recruiter points to where he needs to sign his name, and he does so, then passes the quill to Thekkur. The recruiter then writes it down in translated Greek.

“Age?”

“We are both eighteen.” The recruiter pauses and looks up at the two imposing men before him, in disbelief.

“What? Eighteen?” The brothers exchange a glance and nod. “Christ, they keep getting younger and more grisled.” The recruiter mumbles in almost pity as he jots down the information.

“Alright… Previous experience?”

“We had been fighting as gladiators from ages eight to fifteen. Then from ages fifteen to seventeen we have been mercenaries. We have fought in about twenty battles. We have not lost a fight nor a battle.” The recruiter shakes his head as he writes the information, troubled by their brutal childhoods but also impressed by their martial prowess.

“Fighting from the age of eight… that is a brutal life, boys.”

“Yes. The training you speak of does not sway us.” He looks at the brothers for a moment, studying their confident expressions and steely gazes. They definitely look like they can handle themselves in a fight, but the recruiter knows that much more will be required of them. He speaks again, his voice still firm but slightly friendlier this time.

“The Guard takes only the best of the best. And you two... well, you certainly look the part. But then again, I’m simply a recruiter.”

“When will the ship deliver us?” The recruiter looks at the brothers closely, studying their determined expressions. He can tell they are anxious to get started with the training.

“Usually the ships arrive every few months. We are expecting one in a few weeks, in fact. If you are ready to join, that is when you would be sent to Constantinople, most likely. Where did you say you were from?”

“Siberia.” The recruiter finalizes some information on the form. The recruiter nods, finding their enthusiasm admirable, and he knows they will be valuable assets to the military.

“Excellent…Alright. I will arrange for you to be on the next guard ship, which should be here within a few weeks. You will have time to prepare yourselves in the meantime.” The recruiter shakes the brother's hands, their grip firm and steadfast. He can feel their strength in their hands, and he's once again reminded of their potential. He watches as the brothers depart, the tent flap dropping down behind them. He sighs, with a sense of pity, knowing that the brothers will definitely be a valuable addition when they undoubtedly pass the initiation, yet he can't help but feel troubled by their young age and all they claimed to have experienced in their short lives.

As the sun begins to set, the brothers head towards a nearby tavern. They can see the lights from inside, and they can hear the sounds of chatter and music coming from within. The brothers approach the entrance of the tavern and push open the door, stepping inside. As they enter the tavern, they are hit by a warm glow of the oil lamps on the walls and the sounds of conversation and laughter. The tavern appears to be quite full, filled with merchants, sailors and other travelers. Once again, the brothers attract many glances as they make their way to the bar, their large forms and imposing presence noticeable even among the already rowdy crowd of people. The twins reach the bar and quickly order two pints. The burly bartender nods, his eyes sweeping over their savage look. He can't help but size up the brothers as he pours two tankards of beer for them. They take the mugs and clink them softly before taking a deep sip.

“These lands are not as hostile as I thought they would be. We are close to civilization, brother.” Oleksandr nods, taking a large gulp of his beer.

“Yes, it appears so. These lands are definitely more civilized than I expected. It will be a nice change, not to have to fight for our lives every day.” Thekkur also nods, taking a sip of his beer. He looks out at the busy tavern, the people and chatter filling the air.

“It will be a change, that is for certain. But I doubt the training of the Varangian Guard will be much easier than our gladiatorial lives or our mercenary work.” Oleksandr shakes his head.

“Hopefully this time they won't be beating us with rods for not complying. However... I don't want easy, Thek. I crave a challenge.”

“I agree. A challenge is what we need, what we thrive on. The training will test us to our limits, no doubt. But we are prepared for it.” Oleksandr gives him a knowing gaze.

“They are underestimating us, little brother. They do not know us like our enemies have known us, how our enemies have feared us.” Thekkur nods, understanding the look in Oleksandr's gaze. They have been underestimated before, by their enemies and by others. But the brothers have never let that stop them.

“You are correct, brother. The recruiters, the Empire, they do not know us. They have not seen us in battle, they have not seen the things we have done. They do not understand what we are truly capable of.” Both brothers continue to sip their ales, their eyes sweeping over the tavern and the people inside. The crowd is a mix of merchants, travelers, and sailors, all in various states of intoxication. As the brothers look around, they notice a few gazes lingering on them, taking in their imposing presence. Some seem wary and intimidated, as if wanting to keep their distance. Thekkur leans into Oleksandr while he stuffs his pipe with tobacco.

“I'm not sure what to ever think, brother. One moment I feel doubted, and the next I feel people fear us.” Oleksandr can't help but chuckle at Thekkur's comment. “You know as well as I do that we can be quite intimidating. Our size and strength, not to mention our past, tend to have that effect on people.” Thekkur shakes his head.

“I don't want to scare random civilians. At least they respect us.” Oleksandr lights and then puffs on his pipe, the smoke slowly curling around his face. He looks at his brother, his expression serious yet affectionate.

“No, they do not respect us, Theko. They only fear us. They do not see us as men. They see us as animals, waiting to pounce on an easy meal.”

“I suppose you're right. We are not more than beasts to most.” He responds with a sigh. Oleksandr nods in agreement as his brother sips his ale, his expression sympathetic. He understands his frustration, as it's a feeling he's familiar with himself.

“Indeed, brother. We are often judged by our appearance and our past deeds, not our character. Many see us only as violent and savage creatures, not as the men we truly are. I, for one, am not bothered by it. They can think what they want. Why should I seek the approval of those I never want to be like?”

Their conversation is interrupted by a stout man whose attention they've caught. He has an interesting haircut, mostly bald with a long tuft of hair hanging down from the top of his head, and a long mustache. The brothers stop and look at him, assessing him. He speaks to them in Russian.

“Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear your tongue. You are Rus?” Oleksandr and Thekkur exchange a glance, a bit surprised, but they can see kinship in his face.

“Yes, we are. But we have been traveling for some time now.”

“Where from? I do not recognize your accent.” Oleksandr considers the man for a moment, his natural skepticism kicking in. But seeing that the man seems to mean no harm, he answers.

“We are from Siberia. From the wastes east of the Kara sea.” The man nods, seeming satisfied and impressed with the answer. He looks the brothers up and down, taking in their imposing appearance.

“I am from Kiev.”

“What brings you in Georgia?”

“I am a merchant. I trade goods between different lands. I am here to negotiate a deal with Constantinople.”

“We also come for East Rome, as mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries, eh? The Empire is always in need of good swords. You want to fight some Roman wars?”

“Aye, we would like to.”

“The armies of Constantinople are the cream of the crop, the most elite fighting force in Europe. They will no doubt be interested in men of your stature and prowess. In fact, my nephew was drafted. He was a good boy.” He pauses, looking them over. “Say... you do not look like Siberians. Very blonde and tall, unlike those I have heard of.” The brothers exchange a glance, unsurprised by the man's observation. They are used to their looks getting them scrutinized.

“Our mother was a slave, taken from a foreign land. A Rus woman.”

“Aye... You look to be my own kin, rather than Siberian.” The brothers ponder his statement for a moment.

“Have folk from your homeland been taken captive by Easterners?”

“Yes, indeed. Many times. The Khazar tribes would often raid the lands of the Rus to the west. Captives would be taken and sold as slaves.” The brothers nod, exchanging slight scowls.

“It is possible we come from the same lands then. It is unknown to us where our mother originally came from, other than that she was Rus, kept by filthy Turkics.”

“Interesting… So, your mother, a Rus slave, was taken by the Siberian folk. And you, her two sons, you now find yourselves back among your own kind, among the Romans, searching for a place where you truly belong. Quite the journey you boys have had.”

“Aye.”The man nods in agreement, his expression one of understanding and appreciation. He looks at the brothers for a moment, taking in their features before speaking once again.

“Well, it seems fate has brought you back home, in a way. The blood of the Rus runs strongly within you, despite your years of travel and the land you were born in.” The brothers nod in appreciation.

“Thank you.”

“Tell me, brothers. What are your names?”

“I am Oleksandr, and this is Thekkur.”

“Ho, Oleksandr and Thekkur. Strong names, fitting for two warriors such as yourselves. I am called Leon.” The men shake hands, their grips firm and confident. There is a sense of respect and kinship between them, a connection formed by the common ties of their race, and now Constantinople.

“Oleksandr is a Rus name, from the Greek ‘Alexander.’ Thekkur, that is Norse name. I'm not sure what it means.” The brothers feel a bit of surprise and curiosity at this revelation on their namesakes.

“Norse? How is that possible?” Thekkur asks Oleksandr, who returns a look of dumbfoundment.

“Perhaps your father was a Northman?” Leon ponders. The brothers shrug, never having known who or what their father was. Thekkur then shakes his head.

“These are questions we will never find answers to unfortunately, Leon.”

“Aye, anyone who could know such information is long dead now.” Leon nods sympathetically before Thekkur asks, “have you been to the city before? Constantinople?” Leon nods again, his expression one of confidence and pride.

“Indeed, I have been to the great city. It is a place of grandeur and beauty, unlike any other on this Earth. I have sold my wares there many times before.”

“What is it like?”

Leon's face lights up as he reflects on his memories. “Oh, Constantinople, it's truly a sight to behold. The architecture, the culture, the people... all are unlike anything you have ever seen. The city is a masterpiece, full of statues and mosaics, a city of domes and turrets, of marble and gold. And the people, oh, they live such opulent and privileged lives, protected by the might of their empire. It's truly a place like no other, a city of dreams and wonders.”

The twins exchange a glance. They have never been in a city before, let alone the heart of a major empire. Leon grins widely as he continues.

“You boys must be wondering what such a city looks like. Well, let me tell you, it is a sight to behold. Vast and magnificent, sprawling with people and filled with wonders. You will be in for quite the experience when you reach Constantinople.”

“Yes... compared to the Siberian wastes and the steppe, we're sure it will be shocking to the senses.” Leon pauses for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Although, I'm sure your size and strength will serve you well in your adventure. People will be wary of you, but also impressed. You boys will definitely turn some heads when you step through the city gates, I can promise you that.” Leon takes a sip of his wine, shaking his head in wonder, and he says with a light chuckle.

“Blonde and tall, you could pass for Scandinavian gods there, in the lands of the Greeks. The people here would be in awe in the mere presence of you two.”

“You flatter us, Leon.”

“Not merely flattery, son. I speak the truth. And if your skills with those blades are as good as I expect them to be, no doubt you lads will be very popular amongst the army.” Leon glances into his empty mug before standing up from the bar stool.

“My time here is coming to an end. I have much work to do in the morning that I cannot miss.” The brothers bid him farewell, and Leon waves good-bye to the brothers as they make their exit from the small tavern, his gaze still one of wonder and amazement. As the brothers step out into the night, they hear Leon's voice ring out behind them as he walks the opposite direction.

“Good luck to you, lads! And may God guide you both on your journey to Constantinople!”

The brothers wave back in acknowledgement, their tall frames silhouetted in the moonlight as they walk away. The night air is crisp and chill, and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore provides a constant, rhythmic backdrop to the conversation. Oleksandr glances at Thekkur as they meander about.

“Well, that was an interesting encounter.”

“Mm-Hm. It's interesting to think we share a bloodline with that man, however distant it is. Do you ever wonder if we have family out there, somewhere?” Oleksandr ponders his brother's question as they walk, their boots crunching on the dirt and gravel.

“Yes, I have wondered that before. We know so little of our past, of our family. The thought that there might be more of us out there.. It tantalizes and annoys me at the same time. To have family out there, somewhere, and yet we are unaware of each other's existence.” Thekkur nods with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“We will likely never find them. We barely even know who our mother was, other than that she was blonde and Rus. That could be anybody.” Oleksandr lets out a soft sigh, a feeling of resignation settling onto his shoulders.

“Aye, you are right. It is unlikely we will ever know for sure. It's as Leon said, we are the sons of the Rus, but we have no knowledge of our own blood. We can only hope, and dream, and wonder. But it may be that we never find the answers we seek.”

The brothers wander over to a dock, sitting down at the edge as they continue to puff their pipes and stare at the reflection of the moon on the water.

“One of my dreams is to find a woman, a pretty one with long hair and a sweet smell, so that I can make my own family, one that we never had.” Oleksandr grins slightly as his brother shares his dream, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Ah, yes. I've considered that as well. To find a beautiful lady to warm my bed each night... that would be a great pleasure indeed. But, don't forget, it isn't just physical pleasure that comes from the company of a woman. You also get the privilege of her nagging.” He says with a wink. Thekkur laughs softly in response, shaking his head at his brother's playful jab.

“Ah, Olek, it's true. But you know just as well as I do, a nagging woman is far more pleasing than an empty bed.” He sighs. “Those girls in the hot spring encountered that night really stirred something in me. It was like a peak into something that I am missing.” Oleksandr laughs heartily, the memory of the nymphs fresh in his mind.

“Damn, yes, those nymphs... Yes, they certainly did awaken something within me as well, little brother. They were as seductive and tempting as the tales say, their little waists and gentle whispers stirring something primal within us.”

“I'm relieved you remember them too. It almost feels like it was just a dream.” Thekkur shakes his head before he continues.

“I feel a bit foolish to admit it, big brother, but I do really wish I had a woman. Not like the wenches that we encounter here and there, but one who loves me, one that I can take care of, who keeps my house homely and feeds my horse while I am gone. One who prays for me and waits for me.” Oleksandr listens to his brother, his expression warm and understanding. He knew that his brother's heart was just as tender as his own, and he understood his desire to have a girl who would care for him.

“You speak no foolishness, little brother. It is natural for a man to desire the warmth and comfort of a good woman. A companion, someone to come home to after a long day, someone to share your burdens with… that isn't your twin brother.”

“Yes, that is what I desire. A pretty girl with hair the color of fresh caramel and with soft curls.” Oleksandr chuckles, imagining the type of woman his brother desired.

“Ah, a pretty girl with hair like caramel, you say. Are you sure you're not describing a honey cake, little brother? Are you hungry?”

“Mmm, maybe I am. She would be sweeter than that however, like warm spiced mead.”

“Like mead? You're quite the romantic, Theko. And what would this sweet and spicy honey cake of a girl do to make her so delicious?” Thekkur pauses for a moment before responding wistfully.

“She would love me.” Oleksandr's playful grin softens into a warm smile as his brother speaks. He knew that his twin's heart was a tender one, and his honesty and vulnerability was endearing.

“Aye, she would. She would love you as you are, little brother. With all the strength and all the gentle foolishness of your heart. You'd be a lucky man to find a woman like that, a woman who loves you for who you are, warts and all.” Thekkur laughs and shoves him lightly.

“Oy! Warts!? Have you forgotten we share a face, you ape?” Oleksandr snickers, his teasing laughs echoing over the dock. He laughs even harder as his brother shoves him.

“Haha! No, I haven't forgotten. But that doesn't change the fact that you're the younger brother, and I need to tease you as much as possible. To humble you, or whatever.” Thekkur huffs in amusement.

“I'm only younger by a couple of minutes.” Oleksandr grins, shaking his head at his brother's statement.

“Aye, a couple minutes is still a couple minutes. I'll always be older than you.” Thekkur smiles thoughtfully, a brief silence between them.

“What kind of woman do you dream of, Olek?” Oleksandr is quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer.

“I suppose I dream of a woman who is soft and demure, who can soften my wild heart. A woman who will stand by my side, who will be my partner in all things.” He glances over at his brother, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, and she must be fair to look at, of course.” Thekkur laughs lightly.

“Fair to look at, of course. Of course you would care for such earthly attractions. Why am I not surprised.” Oleksandr shrugs his shoulders while puffing his pipe.

“I am a man on an endless quest for beauty. What can I say?” Thekkur grins and bumps his shoulder against his brother's.

“I'd venture to say that you're just as earthy-minded as I am, big brother. You just like to think you're above the base desires of mortal men.”

“Mmm, a man wants what he wants.” Thekkur chuckles and nods in agreement. He leans back on his hands, the rough wood of the dock creaking beneath him.

“True enough, big brother. A man wants what a man wants, and there's no shame in that. I don't mind saying I want a pretty woman to keep my bed warm at night. You, on the other hand…” He gives his brother a knowing smirk.

“What else do you like, aside from the caramel colored curly hair?” Oleksandr asks thoughtfully. Thekkur grins and thinks for a moment. He closes his eyes and imagines the girl of his dreams.

“Well, she'd have bright eyes, the color of honey in the sunlight. And a soft voice, like the sound of a harp, that could soothe my weary soul after a long day of battle. Maybe some freckles too.”

“Sounds like you desire a melomel goddess. Honey this, honey that…” Oleksandr teases, and Thekkur laughs, realizing that he does in fact have an intense fondness for mead. He grins sheepishly at his brother's comment.

“Heh, I suppose I do have a weakness for mead and its sweet taste, don't I? Maybe subconsciously I do want a mead goddess, one who could pour me sweet, golden ale every night and kiss away my troubles.” Oleksandr grins at his brother's honesty. He shakes his head, amused by his simple desires.

“You're hopeless, little brother. A mead goddess, really? That's what you want? Someone to keep your tankard full and your heart warm, hmm?”

“Is that so bad? Can a man not dream of simple things like sweet kisses and warm mead?” Thekkur grins, unashamed of his desires. “And what is it that you desire? Let me guess, a red-headed venus with curves that will keep your giant paws full?” Oleksandr laughs at his brother's guess, appreciating his humor.

“Haha, well I will admit, a good, curvy redhead with soft skin and long legs is a sight for sore eyes, but that's not what I want.” Thekkur nods, expecting a more serious answer.

“Alright, what do you want then, Olek? A quiet and shy little thing with doll-eyes that will warm your bed and your heart?” Oleksandr pauses for a long moment.

“...Aye.” Thekkur can't help but smile. He knows his brother is a romantic at heart, despite his rough exterior.

“Ahh, a quiet little thing to thaw the ice around your heart, hmm? A gentle girl with big sparkling eyes to hold you when the nights are long. And I reckon you want her with raven hair, like that vampire bitch we stumbled across the other day.”

“You know me too well, little brother. I can't deny I have a weakness for the dark haired temptress types. Maybe it's because it reminds me of the night.”

“I suppose you could say I’m after the sun, and you are for the moon.”

“Aye, it seems so. You go after warm, golden beauties while I seek out the cool, moonlit charms. Quite the perfect symmetry.” Thekkur nods, amused by their opposite preferences in women.

“Haha, we complete each other, it seems. I like blondes while you appreciate a brunette, I like them curvy and you like them slender. we're like two parts of a whole, drawn to the things the other lacks.”

“Aye, brother.”