Ryan's eyes opened.
The room was quite dark on Ryan's side.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. His eyes gravitated to the clock above the door.
Three in the morning.
Two small points of light illuminated the room. Candles. They burned on James's and Jared's bedside tables. Both brothers lay in their beds, staring at the ceiling. Neither spoke a word.
Beside each of their beds were two piles.
James's pile contained a longsword, plain armour pieces stacked carefully, and a medium-sized mace resting on top.
Jared's pile was nearly a copy. It had very similar armour, a longsword, and a small warhammer.
Eleanor's curtain was drawn. She was still asleep.
Ryan swung his legs off the bed.
"Good morning," he said groggily. His voice felt too loud in the stillness.
"Morning," Jared replied.
"Good morning," James said. Stiff and mechanical. Like the words were forced out.
Ryan stretched his arms and stood.
