He followed in his father's footsteps as they walked past large portraits of people he didn't recognize. "Do you know who these are, Yanar?" His father spoke as he looked up.
Yanar, whose eyes had been moving around the room since his entrance, did not recognize any of them. He spoke in a soft voice, out of respect for his father, "I'm afraid I don't know any of them." He was in a state of anticipation, following his father's back as he suddenly stopped and looked at one of the paintings. "There's no blame on you, as you've never entered this room before... Everything you see here in the portraits belongs to our ancient ancestors, the forebears of the esteemed Ryudas family, who were great soldiers that the city of Zirasia takes pride in... Among them are Zyrav Ryudas, Sifar Ryudas, and Kalyan Ryudas, my grandfather. These are the last three of our ancestors who elevated the name of the Ryudas family with strength, and as soldiers, they immortalized their names in history. They made the memories of those who remembered them part of the democratic archives as some of the greatest soldiers who ever served the democracy as a whole." He spoke with words that reflected the deep pride that illuminated his face as he shared his story.
For the first time, Yanar saw his father speak with passion and vivid expression about something.
However, what puzzled him was the absence of his grandfather's portrait. So, he asked curiously, "But Father, why don't I see a portrait of my grandfather, Varun?"
As he placed his hands near Kalyan's portrait, who was dressed in a white formal uniform adorned with nine medals and a black military cap bearing the democracy emblem, he said, "His portrait will not hang among these greats." His tone was firm.
He was astonished.
How could his grandfather, who had been a righteous soldier and was an example of democracy due to his good character, kind heart, and strong loyalty in military service, not be here among them? He asked, while feeling drops of sweat trickling down his face, "C-Can I ask you why? Why would you say such a thing, Father?" Despite his fear, he was able to utter these words.
He looked at her with his eyes, then spoke in a cold voice, burdened by the pain of the past: "Life is not merely memories; it is history written by the actions of the great. History only remembers those who left lasting marks, while memories are nothing but remnants of long-gone days, crushed under the weight of time. Whether we like it or not, this is the truth of our lives."
Cruelty and discipline had always been the defining traits of his father's behavior. Throughout his life, Yanar had never felt the warm affection between him and his father.
He always respected his father, but never understood why he was always like this—why he never made time for his family to be a kind father, why he never praised him. He thought to himself: You are always like this, Father, focusing on the smallest details. You never smile. Despite everything I've done in my life—my studies, martial arts, my position in society, and my high ranks in every club I joined—I never heard a word of praise from you. You always focus on the details I missed and scold me. I've always longed to reach you, but every time I think I'm getting closer, you pull away from me. And because of you, my older brother, no one knows where he is now...
For the first time, Yanar dared to show an expression of anger in front of his father.
He said, while trying to calm his tension and emotions, "I don't understand, and I won't accept this... What kind of history is it if it doesn't remember the good people? And how is it that my grandfather, who was always an example to others, isn't among our ancestors? What is missing from him?" He couldn't hold back and spoke his feelings, expressing his outrage that stemmed from his love for his grandfather.
But he couldn't understand.
Yanar respected his father and had always viewed him with admiration and appreciation as a man who valued discipline and order.
However, this time, he couldn't bear his father's cruelty—cruelty in speaking about his grandfather with those words.
Especially since he was his father's father, how could he speak about his own father like that? This was the question that consumed his thoughts.
The father approached his son and placed his hand on his shoulder. "This room is a trust, and a trust cannot be changed. It's not that your grandfather was a failure, but a family rises through its strength and its history, not just the virtue of its members. I'm confident that one day you will understand, Yanar, just as I did. Your brother should have been in your place now, but unfortunately, that fool abandoned the family's principles and left. You are our future, the one who will elevate this family in the years to come."
Yanar felt the weight of his father's words, almost crushing his shoulders.
He was torn between conflicting emotions, lost between his own aspirations and the burden of responsibility that would weigh on him in the future.
However, he had no choice—he was the sole heir to the Ryudas family, at a time when the fate of his brother, who had left the family on an unknown day, remained a mystery to everyone.
Despite his deep emotional attachment to his beliefs and his dissatisfaction with his father's words about his grandfather, Yanar still held a sense of trust in his father's words.
This trust stemmed from a relationship that had lasted twenty-five years—the bond between father and son, always marked by mutual respect.
Deep down, he knew his father understood life's complexities better, thanks to his long experience, even though many words remained trapped in his heart, with no place in his speech.
In a moment of silence, as the tension between defiance and respect grew within him, he finally spoke, saying:
"If that is the case, then I will be that person—the one who restores the brilliance to our family name, imbuing it with greatness and loyalty, in service to the great democracy of Elethra." As he spoke with determination, his resolve shone in his gaze.
His father, hearing a tone he had never heard before, recognized the unwavering will burning within his soul.
He slowly lifted his hand off his shoulder, then said with a hint of skepticism, "I heard the Dysar didn't reprimand you for what you did?"
Upon hearing his father's words, his eyes widened slightly in faint surprise before he averted his gaze for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts.
A trace of tension crept into his voice, but he quickly regained his composure, speaking in a steady rhythm:
"Ah… no, quite the opposite. He actually praised me, even though we didn't meet directly. Still, it was clear that he was a great man, Father… even in the way he treated his soldiers."
His words carried an unmistakable sincerity, an admiration he couldn't conceal, as if the presence of that man still lingered in his mind, stamped with an indelible aura of greatness.
The father passed by Yanar after listening to his words, heading toward the door. Before leaving, he murmured in a barely audible voice, "I didn't expect such kindness from him..."
His tone carried a hint of surprise, as he had little understanding of Inar's character and knew that kindness was not one of his traits, especially towards those beneath him. However, he didn't dwell on his astonishment for long.
He turned to him, his eyes reflecting a sternness that left no room for argument, and said firmly:
"But... don't let it happen again."
Filled with deep regret, Ryudas realized the magnitude of his mistake after his father's penetrating gaze.
And he whispered apologetically, "I'm sorry, and it will never happen again. I will do everything in my power to become a person of high morals, and a soldier my family will be proud of in the future. This is a promise from me."
The determined look vanished from his father's face as he stood up and left, with Yanar following closely behind after his father quietly closed the room's door. As they strolled down the hallway, the silence was broken by his father's voice:
"So, what do you think of the new design?"
The determined look faded from his father's face as he left, with Yanar following him after quietly closing the room's door.
As they walked down the hallway, his father spoke, "So, what do you think of the new dysar?"
"Yes, Father, he is a truly great man, and even his speech was as sharp as a sword, yet his demeanor was the epitome of kindness. The day he was presented happened to coincide with the day of the demons' execution. I believe Lord Inar will win the annual tournament." His excitement was evident in his words.
" His father was a great man, merciless of even a single mistake. I hope he surpasses his father. "
" I am certain of this, Father. Without a doubt, he will stand as one of the greatest Dysars ever brought forth by democracy, and it is he who will be the catalyst driving democracy toward a magnificent future. "
He stopped and slowly turned around, saying, "I know we're talking about the great Dysar, but don't you think you're getting a little too excited?" He had never seen Yanar show this side of himself before.
This was the first time he had noticed the passion with which his son spoke about someone.
His father sighed and raised his head. "It's alright, but you should improve the way you speak, especially at work... I almost forgot, have you visited your mother? Today is a day of rest; don't forget to visit her."
"Ah, yes..." A calm expression crossed his face.
*****
In front of a black chamber door, two maids stood in silence, like statues guarding the stillness of the place.
The moment Yanar pushed the door open, a wave of tranquility seeped into the air, filling the elegantly classic room.
Its muted tones exuded serenity, and an unbroken hush enveloped the space, disturbed only by a faint breeze slipping through the sheer curtain of the window, which overlooked a vibrant garden adorned with glistening fountains.
Across the room, two tables stood on either side of the bed, each cradling a vase, nourished by its own water, sustaining its life—unlike the one lying motionless on the bed, untouched by vitality, drifting closer to an abyss of stillness.
There, a woman lay asleep—her features delicate and beautiful despite their pallor, her eyes gently closed as if lost in a deep slumber.
But the moment Yanar drew near, she sensed his footsteps.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, gazing at his face in silence.
He sat on the chair beside her bed, his fingers gently brushing against her right hand, his voice warm and tender as he spoke:
"How are you, Mother?"
She smiled and slowly parted her lips slightly. "I'm fine... When did you return?" Her tone was calm and soothing to the ear.
"Last night. You know we have a day off every week. This is the life of a soldier," he said with a tired smile.
His mother smiled faintly, her voice soft and caring. "It's alright, just don't push yourself too hard, my son..."
"Yes, I know..." he maintained his smile.
As for his mother, her smile gradually faded as she asked, "Have you received any news about your brother?"
The atmosphere in the room shifted suddenly after his mother's words, and the air grew heavy as if time itself had paused for a moment.
He looked at her with an icy gaze, his features frozen, and his chest weighed down by the worry for her well-being that filled his heart.
He spoke in a calm voice, maintaining his composure: "We're still, Mom, but I promise you, I will find my older brother and bring him home, no matter what it takes." Those words were like a distant but unwavering promise, offering a sense of reassurance, even if only temporary.
He then gently took her hand, the hand that had always held him with love, as if it were the lifeline that kept his last hopes steady, filling his heart with warmth.
Although he didn't know where his brother was, nor did anyone else in his family, that hope—a glimmer of it—still lingered in the hearts of both Yanar and his mother, regarding his return.
"I hope so..."
He stood up and gently placed his hand on her forehead. "Now, I want you to rest and not think about anything that worries you. I hope for the day when you get up from your bed, and I see you with my own eyes, walking around in good health..." He closed her eyes and quietly left the room.