ALXINFIELD, Year 079, Y.D.
Ilayan's consciousness drifts away, further than their carriage's reach. Now, he is in the well-stuffed velvet cushion—in front of his father as his brother remained on the banquet and his troops returned to the barracks located at the east of the city—rediscovering the truth he had overlooked during his arrival; the people in their homespun and tunics, made of coarse wool or hemp cloth, purchasing cheap loaves of bread that are only paces away from being molded, and the beggars in grimes and sticky, dry hair, sitting in the streets, crying for alms. There are some familiar faces of who he used to grant a penny, years ago, and now, there are new mixing with them, who he confirms as either refugees or locals that had been plagued by poverty.
Life has also a side where suffering and compromise are born.
Since he had come from war, he expected that after the fierce battles, there would only be peace awaiting him, yet, not even a day after his return, he was reminded of the dreary living that even nobles, that are viewed as fortunate and leisurely, experiences.
On the way, he marvels around the visible figures of huge manors and great temples as they slowly bathe in an orange glow. Neither he nor his father spoke, for both are in a mutual understanding of each other's thoughts.
Only when they arrive at the great entrance of the Venningham Manor does he ease himself. His eyes catch the wide greening courtyard, where he would play with his mother before, and together, they would adore the armorial glasses glistening in the tall windows.
"Where is Erin." He is the first one to break the forbidding silence, suffocating the open-windowed carriage, as he sees the figures of liveried maids and grooms, lining before the wide double-door of the hall, lead by his brother's and father's main wife, Lady Sariah and Lady Esmerelda.
"Untitled concubines are forbidden to preside in any act of hospitality," Duke Venningham sternly replies.
"Then save your hospitality for yourself, father. I had enough of your tricks today, now let me rest," he replies in a voice with the same authority as the Duke. In truth, he is exhausted, the events of today are too much for him to handle, overwhelming his mind.
"Where is he?" he repeats.
Duke Hugo eyes him intently, yet, only to fail at intimidating Ilayan. He straightens his back as the carriage finally stops.
"West, near the stables, in the cottage where you used to live with your mother."
After receiving his answer, Ilayan strides out, unresponsive even to the maids as they bend down to welcome him, neither Lady Sariah and Lady Esmeralda earn a glance from him. They are only left with no choice but to watch Ilayan's broad, straight back marches further, only after Duke Hugo alights from the carriage that their attention shift.
"What happened?" Lady Esmeralda asks.
"Nothing. Let the servants prepare for the household's grand gathering later," he says as several calculations run in his thought. Ilayan is not the boy he can have full control anymore, and sooner or later, he will hold a power greater than him. Thus, as he still obeys him, he must render certainty that the posterity of the household can be managed by a virtuous and capable consort. At any circumstance, he cannot let the glory he built all his life be ruined in the hands of his son.
Ilayan's mood is no better than him, even in a dissaray. But for him, now is not the time to have a confrontation with his upcoming predicaments. For he is more beaming with trepidation as he worries about his reunion with Erin, and finally seeing the son he never even met.
Although he had been away for several years, Ilayan's feet bring him to the homely cottage that his father mentioned, as some of his memories about his ailing mother resurfaces, yet his steps hesitates when he is only ten paces away from them as he clearly recognizes the figure of Erin, who he believes did not even grow a centimeter, only as high as his shoulder, and a small, peeking man nervously clutching his pants behind him.
As he steadily approaches, his heartbeat fastens and a tender smile appears on his face.
"Erin," he says, staring at the young man whose delicate nose and soft cheeks are tinted in light red. It has been a long time since they met. Yet, the familiarity has not slightly subsided, and he is thankful for that.
"My lor—" Erin replies, but before he can speak, he remembers that Ilayan dislikes being addressed by him formally. And his smile becomes deeper as the aggressive waves settle like a peaceful stream in his heart. The person, the man, the husband, whom he has committed his life and affection is now in front of him, after being apart.
"Husband."
Then his kind, loving gaze befalls on the timid child behind him.
"Come, Laya, greet your father," Erin gently speaks, patting the fidgeting boy's back as encouragement.
Mustering his courage, Laya lifts his head to meet his father's gaze, there is mist brewing in his eyes.
"Fa...father," he stutters.
Ilayan ruffles his hair and warmly smiles at him.
"Silly boy," he lifts him and carries him in his arms for a hug. "Yes, father is here."
"Father!" Laya's hand tightens around his neck, as tears cascade from his eyes. Finally, he meets his father—the father he admired and yearned for. Now, he can have both parents like his cousins and there would be someone who will defend him and his Dad against the bullying of his uncle.
His throat lump and his voice crack, but he still hugs Ilayan, calling him father from time to time, as if afraid that he will vanish at any moment.
Standing in front of them, Erin watches the first meeting of the father and son. Their family of three is finally complete, and even though there are still worries in his thoughts, the jubilation he feels at the moment buried them all away. Only the gratefulness, that Ilayan had finally returned safely, and Laya had finally met his father are enough to urge a tear to trickle in his eye.
"Get on here," Ilayan says, as he extends his hand to him.
Under the fading skies, three people—two adults and one child—embrace each other. Although, the sun is nowhere to be seen, yet in their hearts, there is a warmth that they feel.
And the exhaustion that drained Ilayan suddenly disappears, as well as the vigilance and the maintained manners he constantly wears, like he had found a haven where he can lay all his heavy defenses down.
"Finally, I'm home," he says.