One year later. 25th of July, year 1846.
"Father! Father! Look at brother, he is chasing me with a weird and frightening-looking beetle!" Andraste Csilla cried out, tears threatening to fall down from the corner of her eyes.
"What? Oh, come on! It is not weird looking at all, nor is it frightening. And this beetle has a name, okay?" Audemar Cirillo said as an alibi.
"Stop it already, Cirillo. Can't you see that you are scaring your sister?" Duke Arvendor lectured.
"No fun! I just wanted to play." The boy pouted as he raised his right hand to throw the beetle, but then lowered it again and stared at it for a little bit. "Haaaah… I really wanted to play with you blackie."
"What? Who is blackie?" Andraste asked in curiosity.
Audemar only looked at her for a moment, "This beetle." He simply answered as he lifted his hand which was holding the beetle.
"EEEEKKKKK!!" Andraste shrieked but immediately covered her mouth.
Andraste and Audemar stared at each other, before looking to their father, who's looking back at them with an unpleasant look plastered on his face. The duke sighed. And so, the siblings did sigh too.
"Cirillo, you do know that you shouldn't be playing an insect, right? At your age, you should be practicing swordsmanship." Although the duke let out a laugh, a trail of sad emotion flashed through his face for a brief moment.
"Really… the two of you. Honestly, how should I do this?" The duke added.
"Father?" Andraste stood up. "Are you feeling unwell, father?"
The smiling Duke faced his lovely daughter. "Yes, Csilla. Father is alright. There's nothing to worry about." He assured her.
He may have convinced Andraste that he was alright. On the other side, the young matured thinking Audemar Cirillo, was not convinced at all.
The duty of a duke is no joke. What more for a duke without his companion— the duchess, by his side to take care of the manor's or the household's activities, and the see the upbringing of their children. Everything was handled by Duke Conan Arvendor, alone. Though the household activities were often handed to his head butler, it was still not enough to lighten the burden he's carrying all by himself.
"Csilla, come over here. Help me out with carrying our suitcases." Audemar called.
"Huh? But aren't the servants will bring those?" The wondering Andraste asked.
"No? I don't know, I thought that they'll only carry the heavy luggages, and then we will be bringing the light one's." Audemar said as he scratches his head.
"Was that so? Then, let's go!" Replied Andraste with a big smile, plastered on her youthful face.
Audemar looked back at his father before following Andraste, "Father…"
"As I said Cirillo, I am fine. I am absolutely alright." Assured the Duke to his oldest son. "You should go after Csilla now. She must be waiting for you there."
The young lad hesitated to leave, but still went to his younger sister, "I understand, father."
"Before I forgot… not that I really will… Happy 8th birthday, son." Duke Conan Bray Arvendon bid him with a smile. A smile where you can see the proudness and joy that he feels towards his son.
"I wish that this day would be a happy, and memorable day for you son." He added.
Audemar was stunned. No, it was not something like that. If he would describe the feeling he's feeling at that moment, the rapid beating of his heart that he felt because of joy, the cold touch of the wind to his skin, and the shining figure of his father right in front of his eyes.
He was dazed in admiration. He has never seen his father be that lively after the day that their mother got exiled.
'It feels good to see you again smiling like that, father.' Audemar Cirillo thought.
"Thank you, father!" He simply replied, and then he rushed to accompany Andraste.
"Careful on your way Cirillo!" The duke shouted.
As soon as Cirillo reached the main door, he saw Andraste sitting on the ground. She was crying. The servants that circled around her that was trying to calm her down, panicked as soon as they saw the young master;
"Young master... This…" Stuttered the lady, age approximately at the middle of her 20's. She was wearing a maid's uniform.
"No, it is fine. I have guessed what happened here." Audemar sighed. He walked closer to his younger sister and knelt on one knee, "Csilla? What the maids said was right—"
"Then did brother lied?" Cut the young mistress, Andraste.
"I… it's not that brother lied. What I told you was the truth…" Audemar paused as he looked at the doorway. "…But it is just that… look at all of the suitcases you were planning to carry. Do you really think you can carry all those three?"
He asked as he pointed at the two suitcases that was on the doorway, while the one was scattered open on the doorsteps. Andraste pouted and then crossed her arms.
"But my brother said—" Little grumpy Andraste wasn't able to continue her sentence.
"Yes, yes, brother did say so." He chuckled, "But did I not also said that, carrying too many suitcases is not good?"
"You didn't!" Andraste pouted. "Hmph!"
"Brother didn't?" Audemar tilted his head.
"Yes! Brother didn't!"
"Hmm. But I was sure I did tell you?" He playfully smiled. Knowing to himself that he really did not tell anything to his younger sister a thing about it.
"Did not!"
"But I just did."
"No! I was sure you didn't!"
"Yeah?"
"Yes! I can even prove it!"
"Can you?" He challenged with a smug look on his face.
"Yes, I can." She boasted, raising her chin up.
"How can you prove it?"
"I just know I can!" Andraste exclaimed. Starting to be pissed off.
"Then do it."
"I will really do so!" She stomped as she stood up.
"I will be waiting." Audemar teased as he also stood up from kneeling.
"Yes, just you wait, brother!" Then again, she grumpily stomped on the ground and picked the farthest suitcase. The one near the door.
"What's taking the two of you so long?" It was the duke, with a line drawing against the middle of his forehead.
"It is all brother's fault! He was teasing me earlier." Andraste simply blurted out.
"Wha— wait, no I did not! Father, she is lying. Since when did you learn how to lie?" The upset young master frowned.
"I am not lying! You were teasing me!"
"No, I wasn't?!" He defended himself.
"That's enough. Csilla, go to your carriage." Duke Arvendon roared.
"Yes, father…" The little miss behaved as she obeyed the duke.
"And you too Cirillo should go to our carriage now." The duke firmly and sternly told the young master.
"It was not my fault." He mumbled.
Duke Arvendon sighed. He walked towards his son that was looking down at his shoes, "I am aware. But as an elder, you must understand."
Audemar looked up at his father, whom was also looking at him. Their eyes met. The duke's expression has already softened, as he gently held onto his son's shoulders.
"Listen carefully, Audemar Cirillo. I will only tell you this just once. You will be turning 8 by July 30th, as your sister will turn 5 on November 16th by this year. Do you know what that means?" Duke Conan Arvendon questioned the young master.
"That… I am three years older than her…" He mumbled.
"Yes. This is why you, as the elder, must act and decide what is good for your sister. You must also protect her at all times. And from what I have seen, it was you whom told a lie first." The duke ended with a faint smile.
"You were watching us the whole time?" Asked the dumbfounded son.
"After all, who else should keep watch at my children's upbringing when there's left in our family is me?" A bittersweet smile was plastered on the duke's face.
Young master Audemar stared at his father's lonely eyes. He blinked several times just to stop himself from the verge of crying. Then he started to wonder;
"Do you… miss… mother too?"
The duke's eye widened with the sudden and unexpected question to be asked. Especially from the person that it came from. He studied his son's expression. His lips pursed together, his nose and under eyes flushed in the shape of pink, and a tear glistening from his lashes.
'Ah… He's been holding back his tears.' His heart throbbed as if it was being smashed into a pulp.
"Do you?" were the words that escaped from the duke's mouth.
Audemar's lips started to quiver, as his tears started to pour out. Tiny teardrops that stained his shirt He sobbed and pursed his lips together tightly. He wiped his tears using his right sleeves, but the tears won't stop, "I… But I hate her… sobs… for leaving us. For breaking father's heart too."
He muttered in between of his sobs.
'Has this been eating him up? Audemar… I'm sorry father did not notice. If Audemar is this vulnerable in front of me right now… Csilla, has she been holding up her emotions too?' The duke's brows snapped together at the thought.
'How can I even call myself a parent of my children?'