12TH DEC 1752.

A cry from the room far away was heard, some wail, some push, some you can do it, and the reward of the pain was bore. "It's a boy". I was told and at the back of my mind I knew, he, he will curse this day. "The bastard has been born" The maidens stated in low tones, not seizing to let me here, but I so heard each and every word and the words and statements hurt me so much, for I knew it was true, my nephew would never seize to have a life of embrace and love.

Outside was cold. It was the peaks of winter, the times when any human would die off cold and flu in this ravishing land of the English soils, and my sister had given birth. Of course I loved my sister, but, she, knew the consequences of her actions and I so much wished it would be something else and not this. She had destroyed her owns life, and the truth was I, being the Hirlvington head, after father's death, would never take home a bastard. Especially, he who bears the blood of the royal family, a king to be, a prince but he is a bastard, off the sins with which the woman has to carry and I had nothing to say of the matter but instead watch sister be shamed in public. After hearing the news, I quickly went upstairs towards the delivery room, my sister was helplessly lying, blood all over the sheets, and the child wrapped in some clothes and carried by one of the mid wives. "It's a boy, my lord. Would you love to hold him, has the eyes of lady Isla." On my arms, I took the boy, carefully, steadily, he was asleep and his mama was too. His tiny hands fist held, it was not my first time holding a new born. My lady, had blessed me with an heir some weeks ago, and now another boy reckons the house and I just stated underneath my breath, "welcome to earth, boy! A lot awaits." As I was studying the boy, I realized something was fishy around the room. When my wife gave birth to my son, she was perfectly fine...by fine, I mean she spoke, healthy and sons of embracing the new born was heard.., however, my sister was quiet. She did not open her eyes and never moved not even a headshake, some sniff... nothing. And so I asked, "I assume, after delivery the lady can speak, as a sign of happiness for the child she's been feeding inside her womb." No one replied, not even my trusted mid wife Mary. She just looked at me and lowered her eyes as if trying to tell me, 'I don't understand.' I therefore reckoned one of the maidens to take the baby off my hands and directed myself to my sister. Laying helplessly in bed, like a corpse with no apprehension, I caught her hand 'cold' and that's when I knew, it was all over, she was dead. Being a Hirlvington head, I was taught one thing, she who loses her innocence, before the adage of marriage, has no right to be wailed after death. She was a disgrace, and a down fall off the family. My sister had done that and it would not make any difference off the consequences. Truth is...The maidens were happy, everyone was happy,. Happy because a disgrace had left, a disgrace off a name had finally been taken by the master himself...death.. a final sleep. But I wasn't...not in the littlest of the matter. She was one of my sisters, she deserved happiness, but I, I was not in a position to dictate her burial, I knew her course. 'She cannot be buried around the Hirlvington compound.' That's a disgrace, only spinsters were supposed to, but she had bore, and a son lay on my hands, pitifully held by one of the maidens and I gained the courage and stated, "She cannot be buried here. Rules are rules. Society is society. I'll prepare her casket and buy land far away in the Lake of Tigris. I have a friend. He will help us with her lay. May her soul rest in peace. Excuse me." And with that I left the place when I was asked as I was leaving, "What do we do with the lady my Lord?" I just watched the maiden who had asked. I knew she knew how much I hated silly questions, when my lady stated, "You know how we preserve the bodies. Don't disturb the lord's peace, and the baby, please put him where William is. They will share the room." "But he is a bastard, my lady" For the first time that word hit different, I always heard it from rumours and sayings and it being in my house, was not something I ought to ever foreshadow. I had planned to set my sister on a boat and leave for the Lake, where she would be catered for together with the baby, but my plans were cut short. Death never seizes to come at the most vulnerable and shameful times and I had nothing to do but to oblige, and so I stated, "On the world's eyes he will be a bastard, but he owes us nothing by treating him as our own. He will stay at William's but he will work in the stables, attend to the smith men works. His course has already been stated. That I understand, he does not belong to our blood, but he deserves a good life. His name will be Willock. Please feed him or he might pass as well, I can't bear two pains." And with that statement I left for my library, to write to my friend in the Lake, that, early in the morning, we would head south to bury my sister, he should prepare a serene place and only family would attend, for I never wished anyone to know of her course, and in addition, shame the family name.

"Morning, my lord; the casket is prepared, and all have been prepared for the day." My right-hand man stated. After the news, I went straight to the living room, kissed my wife goodbye, and left. No one was supposed to know anything about our destination or about my sister's little matter. My other sisters were attending to their husbands, and my younger brother was busy keeping home peaceful after my departure. 'Home would be safe under his control.' My friend was a man I so much trusted, with whom we practiced wrestling games together. He taught me the amusements of money, how businesses can boom, and the greatness of supply and demand, which my father never taught me before his death. Mother passed a long time ago, and we so early enough learnt how to live as orphans. I would love to say that we had already gotten used to it, but the truth is that nothing hurts more than living without your mama. It was tough, and I already felt sorry for the one-day-old boy. It will be tough, as it always has been. It took us two days to arrive, and on arrival, we solemnly waited for evening and buried my beloved sister, with whom nobody seemed to care for her well about, other than me.

"How was the journey?" Afton asked. Afton was his name, the friend I talked about earlier. "It was tiring, but I'm glad we arrived and finished our business." I stated this with caution, for we were at a bar full of different kinds of humans. Not nobles, no, just middle and lower classes; it was a place that no royal would love to visit. I loved this place, however, because it was quite the opposite of our homeland. Full of social class and societal rules. Business was business, and any craft of shame spread like bees in a society full of rumors and that which awaited every person's downfall. "What do you plan to do with the boy?" Afton questioned, and this time I did have something to think of. I had stated about him staying in the stables or something, but that what I blurted when angry. "I'm not quite sure, my friend. I'm still thinking." I replied. Afton knew the burden I had on my back; I had already been pronounced the new father in town, and calling out another new baby would be hilarious. The society had adamant and very demanding rules against bastards; they were either killed, sold out, or just enslaved, for it was said they bore a curse, one that might interfere with the movements and well-being of families, and their course was death. Looking at Afton, who seemed consumed with the beer in front of him... blurted, "Bastards are cursed; they never carry a surname." I recognized his words, which I had heard since I was a young boy and which I still remember. Father always taught us never to defile a woman's innocence, and maybe he forgot to teach my sister the value of protecting her innocence. "What do you want me to do?" I asked, with hope and patience, that maybe my friend would give me better advice. When he stated, "He is your responsibility, brother, Treat him as your own, and when things get tough, bring him here. I'll seize the opportunity to teach him all the arts and books. I will teach him about money and business, and when he grows up to be a young nobleman, we will send him to France or Italy, where he will marry a lady from a respected background and start a life. Don't worry, brother. I protected your sister when she was due to have a baby, and I will do so even for her son." Hearing those words gave me hope. I never wanted to tarnish my family's name. When I learned of my sister's pregnancy, I hurriedly brought her here, hoping no rumor would spread, but it had. Her name had already been raveled, and her value had declined to an unthinkable debt. She was alone, and I became her only pillar of strength. Maybe up there she is watching me, hoping to seize the burden of her sins, which I will do despite the consequences. After my talk with Afton, I felt a sense of relief—at least someone understood my troubles. I stayed in the Lakes of Tigris for about two days and then left for home.

The cries of my now-two sons always woke me up from my sleep. They had become my alarms, for when one awoke the other sure followed. William and Willock both became rocks. Months had passed into a year, and their legs had grown strong. One step at a time, I observed the maidens teach them how to walk. Every night I walked into the room to observe my boys, William and Willock. His eyes had become wide and observant, with sparkling blue pupils that did truly, belong to my family. He had grown so fast, faster than my son William; he never had the chance to drink his mama's milk; his life was hard, and all he had to do was fight hard because no one cared about him. This was a cruel world. I had thought of sending him to Afton when he reaches four, but I felt remorse for William and the fact that my wife was to bear me another child. They all needed company; children were a blessing, always were, and how much I loved them. The boys were now steadily walking, and I knew they were yet to learn and to be taken to school. A daughter had been born, and now my attention had refocused on the new arrival. I started working as hard every day and night. Making business deals, purchasing, buying, reading, and writing just to keep the family business booming and arrive for I knew I not only had a responsibility for my son's future but also Willock needed the greatest aid. People knew his label, and my fear was him knowing his place in this society. Most bastards were never allowed to walk out of the house, and Willock was never an exception. Therefore, in order to equalize his minds with my son's, I assigned a teacher for him, with whom would teach him in the morning hours, and Willock would head to the stables and blacksmiths places to aid at the works. I knew he never deserved this kind of life. A life as half a slave, half a noble, but he had no choice; he was a sin, and I never wished to bring a curse upon my beloved family.

Every morning, after William left for school, Willock was left crying and hurting. He always looked at me as if questioning, "Why him?" My wife never answered the boy's questions, and so did I. I always stated, "Your class begins at eight. Prepare yourself, boy. Wipe your tears; a Hirlvington never cries." And with that, he would stand, hands in a fist, and run to my study room, where I had left a place just for him to learn.

However, names, labels, and any type of past disaster never really get distorted. "Hello, my lord, a letter from the Queen." My right-hand man stated, and I so rose from my study set to read the letter, which so well stated, "I hear the boy was born.. Lord Hirlvington. Bastards are curses, and he being a threat to the throne, we so wish to have him killed before the coming full moon—or we will do it ourselves. Your reputation is at stake, or you can have him leave the kingdom and live a rattled life like other poor kids. ~~~The queen." The letter was full of words, but those were the main intentions of the queen. Someone had leaked the existence of the boy. The boy bore the sins of my sister and the King himself; immoral would be the word many would use, but his grace, apprehension, and desire to intimate himself with my sister still remained a puzzle that he alone could answer. News of a bastard living under my care spread everywhere, to the extent that some of my workers started to resign from their respectable jobs. One word can make a family crumble into agonizing drift and turn of events. A boy, a harmless boy, would make the Hirlvington fortunes crumble and we would be left begging in the streets, and that, I never wished. Through my study room window, I watched my boy, William, being taught how to fight as my nephew was busy cutting the edges of the flower garden, and for the first time I felt remorse for the boy. I wondered how he felt, how much he wished to learn how to use the blades and maybe cut some flesh and one day become a royal soldier of the King, but he never knew what arose off him. A boy that would make the whole of England shift gears, a boy who made the queen shake in terror to the extent she wrote a threatening letter, She's lucky, and I don't wish to sue her grace for demeaning the value of the Hirlvington family name, but I knew the boy was in danger, and London would never be his home; it would be his nightmare, and it would make him wish for death. "Hey, my dear. Why the face?" My wife's voice was one that returned me from the beautiful scenery outside and the thoughts that disturbed me. "It was beautiful." I state. "What are you planning about Willock? He will know, and it might not end well for his young mind, my dear." She stated with a worrisome tone. "He never deserved this life. He leaves tonight. Tell Daniel to prepare the cottage; Willock and I have somewhere to visit. Make sure Mary packs all his clothes, and don't forget to ask them to pack his books." I did not even think of the words..I suddenly was in a hurry to let the boy leave. Maybe the best thing about being a Viscount is availability of gold. As much as my wife was talking politely about Willock, I had noticed her jealousy when it came to him. The way she called my two children to eat while Willock was busy cleaning the stables or kitchen or reading. I had noticed, and for the first time, I questioned her acts, but I never seized to speak. I so well understood her fears that Willock might overtake William. Such a bad thought.

The night reached, and the luggage was packed neatly at the back of the cottage. We were set to leave, and on to fetch Willock, I found him busy chatting with the Smith men. All dirty with a blade in his hand, the young boy was learning, and after seeing me, he ran fast towards me and stated, "Uncle, my first blade." He had never called me uncle. He always called me father, just like William did. And with that, I looked at the men, and one said, "He knows the whole truth. He is not a child; he understands why he belongs to the stables and not to the archery lessons. He understands why he studies at home and not at school. He understands why he doesn't have a Hirlvington surname. He understood." And for the first time, I was angry. Angry both at myself and the world, I was fuming and I stated, "Who told him?!" In realization of my anger, they all backed off and excused themselves. Squatting to reach the boy's level, I told him, "You are a Hirlvington. And forever will be. Now we have to go visit someone. He who will teach you something and everything far away." And with that, he nodded, as if understanding my statement, and we left.

My heart had become as cold as the night seemed to be. I watched the boy, his hair neatly arranged and seizing to cover his small forehead. With his thin nose and small lips, he was asleep on my lap. He had already gotten used to the hard style of living and isolation from the world; he never spoke much to me except about books and learning. I wondered how life would be without him, luckily, my family's reputation would go back to normal. Maybe I would host a ball to clear any doubts. After nights and days of travel and rest, we finally arrived. Afton never married, and he always hated the idea of marriage. Being the duke's brother, he was still respected but had isolated himself in an unknown land, the Lake of Tigris, as he called it. He was my friend, my best friend. He welcomed us with so much gratitude; his house was huge, but no one lived inside with him—just him alone and his businessmen, with some two or three maids. "Hello, young man, what's your name?" Afton asks Willock, with whom shyly smiles and states, "Willock, sir." "Nice, now go see the rooms I have prepared for you, my boy." What! I hadn't even told him I wanted him to stay, but the boy ran to look for rooms with some maids following him when I stated, "My reputation was at stake; I owe you one." He just nodded, and with a laugh, he stated, "England and society never cease to amuse me. I will take care of him. That's what matters." And with that, I went to see the boy to tell him goodbye; other matters awaited me back home, and I never wanted whispers and rumors to spread again. The boy was seated in one of the rooms, full of paint and some books, when the maiden stated, "Am sorry, my lord, he refuses to take the room we want but wishes for this. We will arrange it right away." And with those words, I just nodded and entered the room, starting as I sat next to him, looking deeply into his eyes, "Willock. When you are old, you will understand. Not all people are lucky; we are just set by chance. Please write to me every week; I'd love to hear your apprehensions and growth. I so much want to hear you speak art and make calculations like your uncle Ayden. From today, call him father; he is your father. I will explain later. We might not meet for long, but I'd love to see your writing. Don't forget me nor your brother William; we love you so much, my boy, but this is your life, and you being six might not understand today, but one day you shall. Obey Ayden; you shall now be a duke, and you should act like one, always." The boy didn't say anything. He just hugged me, and I could feel myself dissolve and feel tears and emotions flood my body, and I so much never wanted this type of goodbye, and with that, I stood and left without looking back. I wanted him back in England as a young man; for him being a boy, he was vulnerable and would live in trauma from names and words that he never deserved. "Finished my goodbyes, brother." I told Ayden, and I continued with tears barely trying to escape my eyes, "He is my boy; teach him everything. All virtues and values; show him the world; teach him how to ride horses. And when he reaches his teenage years, teach him how to court a girl, teach him about life, teach him about people, teach him about me, and always tell him stories about his mother. The boy loves milk; make sure you provide plenty. Let him grow strong and healthy, and above all, make his body physically fit to avoid any diseases. He is like a son to me; I will meet him at eighteen. Years from now, when England will be maybe a little civilized and his paths forgotten, I'll give him his mother's fortune of the Hirlvington, and he will reign using your name; he becomes Willock Viking from now." Ayden never said a word but just nodded. And with that, I left, with the hope he will lead a lengthy and fruitful life. Watching my boy would remind me of him. I had forgotten to tell Ayden to let him write to me, and this is the point where I lost all contacts with the boy. My nephew. And home I arrived after a long journey. Serious business, work, and living became the new trends.