Chapter Text
Lohen would've delighted in the look of genuine surprise that crosses Varka's features if the reasoning behind such an emotion wasn't so easy to parse.
"You're requesting a leave for the next few days?" Varka asks, looking up from the papers Lohen handed to him just moments before. Oh, how Lohen would've been happier if he was able to genuinely catch Varka off guard with one of his many tricks, but this is far from one of them. It's real, it's genuine, and it's far from unorthodox—it's too orderly for Lohen's liking, and under normal circumstances, he would've just bothered Captain Kaeya to forge a signature on his behalf.
But this is personal for Lohen. Had the circumstances been different, he wouldn't have gone out of his way to undergo the proper procedures to request a few days off.
However, there are some matters that require him to show a bit more care and tact.
"A family matter," Lohen says, which causes Varka to raise a brow at him. He folds his arms across his chest. "My dad recently injured his back, so… I'll be going back home to assist my parents."
"Does Adorno know you're going?"
"He's already handled my parents enough in the past. I can take care of this on my own."
Lohen doesn't reveal to Varka that he hasn't had the heart to face Adorno yet after they've returned from the expedition, but such a fact doesn't need to be revealed at a time like this. Part of him tells him that Varka already has a sneaking feeling about it though.
"And your parents, do they know you're coming?"
"My mom informed me in a letter a few days ago about the injuries, but she didn't ask me to come home." Lohen shakes his head. "If I had to warrant a guess, she probably doesn't want to make it sound like it's a big deal. But she's not the only one that's aging. I know both of my parents aren't as quick on their feet as they used to."
"Well, I'm sure they'll appreciate the surprise. There's nothing like going back home after being away for so long, believe me."
Lohen watches as Varka signs his signature at the bottom of his papers, followed up by a large red APPROVED stamp. The sound resonates in the room, subtle in its finality.
"Speaking from experience?" Lohen asks as he takes the papers that Varka holds out to him.
"Eh, something like that." Varka shrugs, an easy smile on his lips. He points at Lohen. "Make sure to give that to Jean so she can put it on record."
Lohen waves off Varka before spinning on his heel, as if trying to tell him not to worry about it too much. He then waves the papers around in the air.
"Bet it's going to be real nice for you to have some peace and quiet around here while I'm gone," he says loudly as he crosses to the other side of the room, swinging the door open.
Varka lets out a loud, hearty laugh, the sound traveling into the hallway, almost as if following Lohen as he leaves Varka's office.
"Hey, Lohen! Send my regards to your folks!"
Settled beneath the mountains from the highest point at Windrest Peak is the small, idyllic town of Millhaven.
Millhaven is, by no means, a bad town. It's perfectly tucked away from the usual hustle and bustle of Mondstadt city, and is just the right distance away from the lively Dornman Port that's constantly seeing a steady stream of new and familiar faces from every corner of Teyvat. It's a quiet town that rarely sees trouble, with most of its residents having lived there for years—generations of families that have ran through the colorful flower fields, their fingers brushing against the delicate petals.
There's the mechanical creaking of the windmills and the gentle lull of the waves lapping at the beach, the comforting scent of ripe sunsettias and fallen pinecones and floating dandelions lingering in the air. The town of Millhaven, though small and is, by some standards, the textbook definition of traditional, is enough to make Lohen's heart stir with something akin to longing.
He supposes anyone would feel that way when they properly return home for the first time in who knows how long. Lohen can't seem to remember the last time he actually visited Millhaven with intentions that weren't related to matters with the knights.
Even with how often he's stationed in Dornman Port, chances to actually visit his parents are few and far between. Most days he's focused on getting his work done, whether it's tracking done targets that are causing issues to the commonfolk, or putting his company through intense drills with the promise of a "special training regiment" if they don't meet his standards.
If Lohen had to warrant a guess, the last time he had visited his parents was right before the knights left for the expedition. The more he thinks about it, the more it dawns on Lohen just how much time has passed since he last saw them. Even when they properly returned from the expedition, he simply didn't have the time to inform them of his return.
As he walks along the familiar path to his home, tracing steps that he hasn't taken in years, he can't help but bite the inside of his cheek. It's not as if he stopped talking to his parents entirely after he enlisted into the knights. They would exchange letters every now and then—his mom being the main sender, asking him of how he's doing and if he's taking care of himself.
He knows better than to leave her in suspense; it's one of the rare times he will actually take the time to sit down and write a response. As much as he hates writing reports for the knights, it's a different matter once his family is involved. Even during the expedition days, in the rare times he returned to camp after dealing with some of the Wild Hunt, there would be a messenger passing on a letter to him. He would always make sure to pen a response before he left camp once more. Better to tend to the matter immediately before throwing himself back into the fray—he could only imagine his parents reading his letters with bated breath, thinking of how their son is miles away from home, fighting monsters that were beyond reason.
Lohen slows down his pace, adjusting his travel pack as he walks up cobblestone steps that haven't greeted him in years. The golden rays of the morning sun shine down, almost as if projecting a spotlight onto the path that leads to his childhood home. He takes in the sight before him, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.
It's been years, and things haven't changed in the slightest. The worn down fence surrounding the house, the dark roof tiles that are neatly aligned, the worn out path leading to the backyard where his parents' workshop is situated. There's a flower wreath hanging on the front door, windwheel asters and small lampgrass and cecilias masterfully tied together in a pretty decoration that's pleasing on the eyes. Lohen can hear the rushing waterfall that's not too far from their home, can hear the bubbling stream that he dove into on summer days when the heat was near unbearable.
The traces of his home have never disappeared, have never been worn down by the winds of time. Yet as he inches closer, there's a woman kneeling in the grass, gingerly tending to a patch of flowers—the last time Lohen saw her, her hair was the same shade of color as his. Now, he can make out faint white streaks of hair amidst the sea of mint blue, blending in as if they've always existed there to begin with. The woman's head is turned away from him, but he can hear her humming a faint tune, one that he grew familiar with as he was growing up; he heard it when he was being swayed to sleep, struggling to keep his eyes open.
When Lohen takes a closer look, the woman is wearing a pair of thick gardening gloves. But he knows that those hands, once dexterous and carried a touch of delicacy that could masterfully thread bowstrings into the right notches, are now wrinkled and calloused.
The woman, previously engrossed in her garden work, stops her humming as she finally hears Lohen's footsteps. And Lohen swallows thickly as she looks up to follow where the sound is coming from. She stands up from where she was kneeling, tugging off her gloves as she prepares to greet her unexpected visitor.
But the moment she lifts her head and locks eyes with Lohen, her original greeting seems to die at the tip of her tongue. Lohen sees the way the gears start to turn in her head, how she blinks several times as if trying to reassure herself that the sight before her isn't a dream.
The woman's eyes light up with recognition, and Lohen can already see tears beginning to form in her gaze.
"Lohen…?" She calls out to him, hesitating before she takes a step forward. She brings a hand up to her mouth, as if trying to suppress the sob caught deep in her throat.
"Hi, Ma," Lohen greets her with a small smile. "I'm home."
"Oh, Archons above—" his mom finally breaks down into tears, making small hurried gestures towards him as if beckoning him forward. "Come here, right this instant young man."
Lohen can't help but chuckle as he meets his mom halfway, immediately being enveloped in her arms the moment he's within her reach. He goes easily, as if surrendering to his mom's embrace—surrendering to her warmth, like he did when he was just a child. She wraps her arms around him tight, and Lohen returns the hug, holding her close. He doesn't remember the last time they've held each other like this.
It already feels like so long ago when Lohen barely reached her knees and she could easily scoop him into her arms, lifting him off the ground like a bird preparing to take flight to the skies. Now he's just barely taller than her, feeling the way his mom buries her head into his shoulder.
"I-I don't understand," his mom says quietly, and Lohen can feel her tears on his shirt. She sniffles. "I didn't… I never asked you to—"
"Come home?" Lohen finishes her sentence. "That's ridiculous, Ma. You think I'm just going to carry on like normal with Da injured?"
"I— We didn't want to bother you, Lohen. Not with how busy you are."
If he hugs her a tad bit tighter, neither of them point it out.
"Nonsense. I wouldn't have minded." He's the first to pull back, to take a better look at his mom. The years have thankfully been kind to her. Wrinkles are beginning to form on her face, but she looks just as he remembers. Growing up, his dad and the neighbors said that he looked like the split image of her. Even now, he sees himself reflected in her gaze.
His mom still clings to him, holding onto his arms as if afraid that if she lets go he will run away and never come back. Lohen gently squeezes her shoulders, a quiet reassurance—I'm not going anywhere.
"Da is going to be so happy to see you," his mom says as she brushes her tears away with the back of her hand. She flashes him a wobbly smile. "Come inside, Lohen. You must be so tired after making the trip here from the city."
His mom takes his wrist and gently guides him in the direction of their home.
For the first time in years, Lohen follows her lead, the wind caressing his cheeks as if welcoming him back.
Lohen remembers when he first received the letter from his mom regarding his dad's back injury.
He was carrying out the usual drills at Dornman Port, keenly observing his subordinates when a messenger had dropped it off to him. He remembers when the messenger could barely look him in the eye, stuttering as all they could manage between gasps that it was an urgent delivery before scurrying off. Lohen didn't even get a good look at their face, but that was the least of his worries at the time as he opened the letter with his trusty dagger and read the words imparted to him from his mom.
He remembers telling one of the officers to observe the drills in his stead, marching off before they could even get a word in as his mom's writing was burned into his memory:
Lohen, my dearest son,
Da injured his back during one of his deliveries to Springvale. The knights in the area seemed to have gotten the situation under control, and even the doctors said that he was lucky to have gotten out of the ordeal relatively unscathed.
There's no need to worry. Da's apprentices will be helping with the workload, since the original order for Springvale ended up getting destroyed. Please send my appreciation and regards to the knights that handled the situation. A young lady by the name of Eula handled everything with such grace that even your Da was stunned. Do you happen to know her by any chance?
I'm writing only to inform you of the situation. You deserve to know, at the very least. Your Da is on the road to recovery, and I will be there with him every step of the way. So there's no need for you to worry, okay? We can take care of ourselves just fine.
I know that the expeditionary forces have just returned to Mondstadt recently, so I can only imagine how busy things have gotten since your return. Pass my greetings onto Adorno when you have the time.
And please, take care of yourself, Lohen. That's all that your Da and I ask of you.
—Ma
Lohen knows his parents better than anyone else in the world. His mom might have not asked him to come home, but he did—not out of a sense of obligation or duty, but because he is their son. His parents have been content to live their lives out quietly, tending to traditions that have long since been a part of Lohen's early daily life. They were never the kind of people to cause trouble for others, or the kind of people to go out of their way to make things harder for those around them.
They're everything Lohen isn't: reserved, disciplined, peaceful.
They're the kind of people who stick to routines that are faithful and true, and Lohen knew long ago that the order his parents had carefully maintained over the long years wasn't for him.
At first, his parents simply couldn't accept it.
Even when he finally donned the Adventurer's Guild uniform at the ripe age of thirteen, his parents couldn't bring themselves to raise their voices at him. They took a different approach—trying to reason with him, get him to understand their perspective. They tried to warn him of the dangers even when it was exactly what he was seeking, even when he had displayed his strength and continued to get strong.
To any outsider, they'd think that Lohen was simply ignoring his parents' pleas. But it would simply be a lie if Lohen said that he wasn't aware of the pain that his parents were going through at the time.
It's one thing to have your only son kidnapped at a young age and come out of the ordeal physically unscathed, but Lohen always knew that his whole worldview had changed that day. He had fundamentally changed that day. And his parents knew this, too. Everyone knew that Lohen would never return to the same person that he was, quietly following in the footsteps of his parents when they wouldn't even dare teach him how to draw the bowstring back.
He doesn't remember when his parents stopped trying to convince him to not throw himself into danger. He doesn't remember when his dad stopped looking at him with thinly-veiled resignation or when his mom stopped crying every time he stepped out the door without looking back.
But even with how many years has passed, even with Lohen well into adulthood, that doesn't mean he ever stopped thinking about them. And his parents never stopped caring about him, either—the letters are enough proof of that.
His mom didn't have to inform him of his dad's injuries. His parents didn't have to keep writing to him even when he moved out and joined the knights.
But Lohen is their son. That's enough of a reason for them. To them, it's the only reason that matters.
Even when Lohen steps through the front door, the interior hasn't changed too much.
His parents have always strived to maintain order in all matters of their life. So long as that order wasn't disturbed, they hardly found reasons to go out of their way to change something.
After all, what's the point in changing something if it's not broken?
Lohen has to admit, it comforts him to know that the house hasn't changed too much. With how long he's been away, he was a little worried that things would look different beyond his wildest imagination. Then again, that's probably just wishful thinking on his part. His time in the knights has shown him that the world is constantly changing around him. His parents' house seems to be stuck in time, forever the same, never changing.
It doesn't take Lohen long to see his dad in the living room.
"Well I'll be," his dad says, shaking his head in disbelief. He's sitting up on the couch, a wool blanket pulled over his lap while he's reading a book. In front of him there's a coffee table with a clay tea kettle and a porcelain mug situated on its surface. The wood nearly shines, cleaned to perfection. "I know I'm getting old, but my eyes aren't playing tricks on me now, are they?"
"Richard, don't be like that," his mom chastises him. "Is that really the first thing you want to be saying to your son after so long?"
Lohen chuckles. "I see the years have softened you a little, old man."
His mom gently smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand—a warning.
"Lohen."
Richard lets out a deep chuckle, the kind that one feels right in their chest. His eyes twinkle with mirth, crinkling around the edges.
"Let him crack a joke or two, Minna. That's the kind of thing we need around here right now," Richard says. He closes his book, placing it next to him before he gestures for Lohen to come over with a quick wave of his hand. "Get over here, son. Can't remember the last time I've given you a hug."
Lohen doesn't remember either, though he doesn't say this aloud.
When he crosses the living room to where Richard is seated, Lohen has to awkwardly shift his body in ways that would ensure that his dad wouldn't strain himself too hard. Lohen manages to get his arms over his dad's shoulders, while Richard manages to loosely wrap his arms around Lohen's waist. Though it's a poor imitation of a hug, the sentiment remains there all the same.
Lohen didn't inherit much from his dad—his penchant for dry jokes and the beauty mark beneath his eye are the only indicators that Richard is Lohen's dad by blood. Minna had always been overjoyed over how much Lohen looked just like her. She was less than thrilled when Lohen's humor started to mirror Richard's, though there are times where the apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree.
In Lohen's earliest memories, his dad always bore a stern and serious countenance that hardly intimidated Lohen even in his youth. Perhaps it's because Richard wanted nothing more than for Lohen to take his every word to heart, but it's hard to say if anything meaningful actually stuck. There are very few things that Richard and Minna have said to Lohen that have followed him into adulthood.
Nowadays, Richard seems to carry himself with an air of relaxation that Lohen believes suits him—maybe it's because he seems a bit more at peace with the way things are.
"Nice to see you, too, Da," Lohen says quietly when he pulls away from the hug. Richard looks up at him fondly.
"Can't say I was expecting you to drop by, but I'm not complaining," Richard says with a light chuckle.
"It's not everyday we get to see you," Minna comments, tucking some hairs behind her ear. Lohen glances over at her, notices the way she gives him a nervous smile. He knows the sight before her must feel surreal—seeing her family together once more. "It must have been a long trip from the city, Lohen. Surely you can spare the time to stay for dinner for your visit?"
"Actually," Lohen starts, hauling his travel pack over his shoulder before he glances between his parents, "I'll be staying with you two for awhile."
Richard and Minna share confused looks. They focus their attention on Lohen.
"How long are we talking here?" Richard asks.
Lohen hums. "About a week, give or take."
Minna can't hide her surprised gasp. "The knights were generous enough to give you time off for that long?" Lohen has to bite the inside of his cheek as he sees his mom struggling to hide her anticipation, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. "Oh, but your company—the fifth company, right? Are you sure they'll be fine without you?"
"Ma, don't you remember? Adorno is still their captain. I'm just their vice captain who whips them into shape— I mean, I'm the one who just makes sure that they're all keeping up with their training," Lohen quickly corrects himself, though he can already see Richard trying to hold back a laugh and Minna giving him an unimpressed look. He clears his throat. "Besides, Varka and Jean personally signed off on it themselves when I put in my request. And I told the fifth company that I'll personally be checking their progress when I return to the city. Things are accounted for all across the board."
"You really did think of everything," Richard says in awe. "Gotta hand it to you, son, you've really got things figured out over at the knights."
Lohen shrugs in response, though a small hint of pride swells in his chest.
Minna claps her hands together. "Oh, this is just fantastic news! I'll have to prepare something special for dinner tonight just for the occasion."
"Don't go too crazy with the preparations, dear," Richard tells her.
"Nonsense! Lohen hasn't been home in Archons knows how long. It calls for a celebration!" Before anyone else can get a word in, Minna is already scurrying off deeper into the house, muttering stuff beneath her breath that even Lohen can't make out. He's honed his hearing over the years, but his mom's ramblings have been something he's never been able to properly decipher. Sometimes he wonders if she actually manages to get words out.
Lohen turns to his dad and finds that Richard's expression mirrors his own. The two of them share an amused laugh, though it doesn't take long for Lohen to straighten out his back as he looks at his dad.
"I hope I'm not imposing by announcing that I'll be staying out of nowhere," Lohen murmurs. "I figured that with your injuries, you guys would need all the help you could get."
"You're speaking nonsense, Lohen. As if you'd ever be capable of imposing on us," Richard reassures him, leaning back into the couch with a groan. "Your Ma and I appreciate your presence more than words could possibly describe. It's great to see you home." He makes a vague gesture towards the stairwell. "You can leave your things in your room. It ain't no knights quarters or adventurer's campsite, but surely you won't mind?"
Lohen is already turning away when he stops in his tracks. He looks at his dad from over his shoulder.
"My room?" He repeats.
Richard looks at him as if he's speaking nonsense.
"Why the shock? Didn't think we'd keep your room after all these years?"
Lohen would be lying if he said he expected this.
He already knew his parents would accept his presence with open arms, and he knew that they would be delighted to hear of the news that their son would be staying for a week to help them in their time of need.
Everything so far has been well within his expectations—but he certainly didn't expect to hear that his room seems to have remained relatively untouched over the course of many years.
He doesn't know why this is. He can't remember the last time he properly slept in his bed, the last time he found himself hunched over his desk scrambling to write notes for some sort of new technique or scheme that he was planning. He was barely eighteen when he finally moved out, having enlisted in the knights a year prior with Adorno's assistance. Even when Lohen visited them right before he left for the expedition, he didn't stay back then. He visited and gave them his regards before he was walking behind the Favonius banner with his brothers and sisters in arms, traveling to corners of Teyvat that were in danger.
He had thought that, after being away from home for so long, that his parents would've done something to his room. Lohen thought that they would've fashioned it into something far more manageable—a storage room, perhaps, to help them maintain the cleanliness of their home. It made sense in Lohen's head that they would turn his room into something that served a purpose in their everyday lives.
The sun shines in Lohen's face when he opens the door. It's been so long that he nearly forgot how his window is perfectly positioned to have the sun directly beam in the direction of the door. He brings a hand up to shield his gaze from the bright rays before taking a few more steps inside. He closes the door, taking in the sight before him.
Lohen's room was, in retrospect, always plain. A simple twin bed situated in a corner of the room, right below his window. An ebony desk that Richard had personally commissioned to have been made from a masterful craftsman. Dark wooden shelves hanging off the walls with books of old fairy tales that Minna used to read to him right before he went to sleep. There wasn't much to keep track of, and back then, it made things easier for Lohen when he would sneak out late at night. It was especially easy for him when he finally moved out—barely any personal belongings to bring with him into the city.
But as he stands in his room, Lohen comes to the realization that he's not the last person that was there. He was expecting the air to be stale when he entered, but to his surprise, it felt as if someone had recently opened the window and let the breeze inside, if only for a moment.
He sets his travel pack at the foot of his bed. He didn't bring much with him—enough clothes to last him for the whole week he'll be staying, his usual hygiene items, a weathered leather notebook, and his dagger. He notices that the sheets on his bed have been smoothed out, perfectly tucked into each corner of the mattress. He places his hand in the middle of the mattress and presses down.
He's not met with much resistance. The mattress is far from stiff—it's been long since broken into, but there's a certain feeling of plushness and softness with some buoyancy that is enough to tip off to Lohen that no one has slept in the bed for a long while. The sheets are clean, the faint scent of calla lilies lingering in each delicate thread.
Lohen doesn't stop there. He goes to his desk next, his eyes flitting over the wooden surface as if trying to find something out of place. He doesn't find anything out of the ordinary—pencils and pens are carefully stored away in a cup, notebooks have been stacked on top of each other, and his chair has been carefully pushed in.
Lohen runs his finger along the surface. When he pulls away and takes a look at the pad of his finger, it comes away clean.
He starts investigating every nook and cranny of his room. He runs his finger on every surface he could find, and each time he pulls away there's not a speck of dust to be found.
It's only when he's sure that there's nothing left to investigate that Lohen tentatively sits down on the edge of his bed, the mattress creaking and dipping beneath his weight. He takes a deep breath.
He's not sure who came in here last—whether it was Minna or Richard, it's hard to say. His parents were always good about splitting house chores, doing their best to never designate one specific task to another. But he's certain about one thing:
Even though his parents weren't informed about his arrival prior, even though it's been years since he last slept in his room, it's been maintained after all this time.
He turns his head towards his window, can barely make out the rolling hills of Millhaven, the colorful fields of flowers; he hears the laughter of children in the distance, followed by their thumping footsteps across the dirt paths.
He leans back and realizes he's been holding in his breath. It's only then that he finally lets out a deep exhale, trying to make sense of why his parents have gone out of their way to maintain a room for a son that had barely been in their lives for the last several years.
Lohen thinks he doesn't want to know the answer.
The day carries on in relative silence—very much unlike what Lohen is used to.
It's hard to say what his usual routine consists of. Back during the expedition days, his routine consisted mainly of fighting off the Wild Hunt on his own and very rarely returning to camp, if only to keep Varka and the other knights updated that he was indeed still alive and kicking. In Mondstadt, his days varied—some days he was investigating a matter behind the scenes, other days he was leaving a letter on Varka's desk about leaving to clean out a hilichurl camp, and then there's the days where he's thrusted into his knightly duties as vice-captain, training and working his company to the bone.
If he can be completely honest, it's only been a few hours since he's returned home and it's taking everything in him to not burst out the front door and find some hilichurls deep in the wilderness to scratch the undeniable itch that's clawing away at his skin.
But he's back home, not at the Knights of Favonius headquarters. He's home, and not at Dornman Port wrangling his brothers and sisters in arms together and shouting at them to sharpen their focus, to straighten their aim. He's home, and not out wandering the grassy plains of Mondstadt to see if there's any lingering hilichurl camps that he missed the last time he patrolled. There's no reason for him to leave, and it's taking all of Lohen's willpower to stay right where he is lest he goes back on his word of helping his parents out.
If the knights were to see them in his current situation, he's sure that he'd be at the forefront of gossip circles for days, maybe even weeks. The vice-captain of the 5th company has always been a man on the move—it's hard to keep him contained to one place when he would rather throw himself into the fray, a moving target that cannot be touched. It certainly wouldn't be the first time Lohen would be subjected to hearing whispers of his character, and he knows it wouldn't be the last time either.
The words of others have never bothered him too much, anyway. They could say anything they wanted about him, draw their own conclusions for all he cares—there's nothing that they could say that would ever deter him from what he's doing.
Still, he hates being left idle. If there's anything that he hates most, it's having nothing to do.
So he tries to make himself useful. He asks his parents if there's anything that he can do to help.
To his horror, both of them seem pretty intent on making sure that he doesn't strain himself too hard on the first day of returning home.
"That can all wait for tomorrow. You should just take it easy," Richard tells him with a light chuckle.
"Your Ma and Da aren't entirely helpless, Lohen," Minna sighs, fondness etched in each word.
Lohen tries not to make too big of a fuss about it. They're his parents—he knows how they are. If this is their attempt at trying to make him pull on the brakes for the time being, then he hates to admit it but it's working incredibly well in their favor. Keeping him confined in one place is already hard for the knights. The fact that his parents are able to do it with such ease comes to show that they still fundamentally understand him on a level that no one else has figured out yet.
He surmises it has to do with the fact that they struggled to keep him home most days back during his adventurer days. He would use his commissions as an excuse to get out of sleeping in his bed, insisting that he can just camp in the area instead. Richard and Minna, unable to get him to listen to their reasons, could only watch as his figured faded into the distance, wondering if he would come back safe and sound.
They knew that the last thing he ever craved was safety. That what he craved was beyond anything a parent would want for their child. Most people would flee at the first sign of danger, but Lohen was constantly seeking it.
In a town like Millhaven, danger is far out of reach. No criminals to apprehend, no monsters to dispose of.
Lohen is trying to be good. He's trying to be better, if only to reassure his parents that he can at least commit to his promise.
It's proving to be one of the most challenging things Lohen has ever faced in his entire life.
He's not sure how much time passes when dusk begins to settle and his mom begins to prepare dinner. He tries to be a good son and offers to help his mom with dinner, since the amount of ingredients that she begins to lay out on the kitchen counter looks like enough to feed a whole platoon of soldiers.
But Minna flashes him a smile before turning him away with a simple flick of her wrist, ushering her away to the living room instead.
"But—" Lohen tries to say, but Minna gives him a stare that seems to silently tell him 'Do not test me, young man.' To which Lohen promptly closes his mouth and nods before joining his dad.
Richard can't help but chuckle as he watches Lohen deflate in defeat. Lohen glances over at him with a glare that's hardly intimidating, plopping himself into an armchair that's situated close to the couch.
"You're laughing. I'm trying to find something to do and you're laughing at me." He rubs at his temples. "I don't think I've ever seen Ma with such a serious look on her face before. Can't say it's a sight that I'd like to be familiar with."
"You really think she's going to have you working in the kitchen when it's been ages since the last time she's made you a homemade meal?" Richard asks, leaning back against the couch. Lohen sees him tense up slightly, shifting to try and find a comfortable position before he finally allows himself to relax. His eyes are full of mirth as he looks at Lohen. "Just let her work her magic tonight. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to have you help in the kitchen in the coming days."
Lohen could only hope. After all, he's not half bad with a knife.
Plus, it would give him something to do.
He tries to shift his focus elsewhere.
"So, Da, about what happened before you got injured…"
"Archons above, I certainly wasn't expecting to be ambushed like that," Richard sighs, shaking his head. "With how safe the roads have been as of late, the last thing I thought I'd encounter would be treasure hoarders."
Lohen nods along to his words, but he can't help but feel a little suspicious. It's not as if he doubts Richard's words—far from it, actually. When he went to press Eula for details, she mentioned that the treasure hoarders were anonymously commissioned to destroy the cargo. None of them knew who their commissioner was, having only communicated with them through letters before having a hefty sum of Mora dropped off at their hideout.
Eula told him that they tried investigating the hideout themselves, but by the time they arrived, the whole place was already reduced to ashes. The original plan was to find the letters and any other clues to see if they could possibly trace them back to the anonymous commissioner, but with everything having gone to flames, the only trail they had was gone.
Whoever the commissioner was, they were aptly prepared. No one burns down a measly treasure hoarder hideout just because. Someone only does that if they wanted to make sure that there was no other way of tracking them down.
But no matter how good someone might be at hiding their tracks, there are always lingering traces left behind.
If it were up to Lohen, he would've personally interrogated the treasure hoarders themselves just to make sure he got every last bit of information out of them. But the investigation team had already thoroughly looked into all of their backgrounds and there was nothing of note, so Lohen had just left it be.
Still, someone anonymously commissioning treasure hoarders to destroy an innocent bowmaker's cargo? For what reason would someone have to go after his dad?
It doesn't sit right with Lohen. Something about the whole scenario feels a little too personal that he can't simply ignore it.
But now's not the time to act on it. There will be a perfect moment to strike. He just has to wait—even if that's the hardest part of all.
"Still, I'm glad you weren't too badly injured," Lohen tells his dad with a small smile. "I extended my thanks to Eula on both yours and Ma's behalfs. She was rather surprised to learn that we are related."
"Ha! You've got some reliable heads up there in the knights," Richard says with a small nod. "Gotta say, that comforts me."
"Well, what are knights without their chivalrous spirit?"
"Yeah, sure, like chivalry is what Adorno used to convince you to join the knights back then."
"Hey, you don't know that! He is the one that saved me, after all. Clearly he rubbed off on me during that talk."
Lohen decides to leave out the real reason why he had decided to join the knights in the first place—and the reason why he continued to stay despite it all. That's something only he needs to know, but if constructing little white lies is enough to provide Richard some sense of comfort, then he thinks it's worth it.
"How is Adorno anyway?"
Lohen sinks into his seat, crossing one leg over the other.
"Age is catching up to him."
Richard chuckles. "When does it not for us old folk?"
"Yet all of you oldheads talk as if you're still in your prime. Varka is the exact same way, too."
"Now you and I both know that the Grand Master is in a whole different league of his own. I shouldn't even be comparable to him. He's, well, the Grand Master! I'm just a humble bowmaker."
"I would give you some credit, Da. Draff doesn't just commission anyone to craft their bows for the hunting season. If he went to you, then clearly that means you've got some talent. That's something you should be proud of."
Richard looks over at Lohen, his expression equal parts surprised and fond.
"Since when did you know when to dish out praise? I didn't expect such a smooth tongue from you. Did the knights hammer etiquette classes into that brain of yours?"
Lohen laughs. "Did you forget that I'm a vice-captain? It's practically my job to keep tabs on— sorry, observe people's talents and strengths. Such noteworthy individuals are always deserving of hearing what they're doing right. It boosts morale. Besides, I can point them to the right people if there's room for them to learn and better themselves. The knights function more effectively when skills are honed properly."
When he's done talking, he realizes that Richard is looking at him with wide eyes. The expression is enough to have Lohen laughing a little nervously. He didn't expect that kind of look from him after talking about the knights—after all, he was just being upfront.
"What's with that look?" Lohen asks.
"Sorry, sorry." Richard waves him off. He sighs, glancing away before looking back up at Lohen with something that he could only describe as pride. "It's just… Back during your adventuring days, we could barely get a word out of you about what you were doing. Always had us worried that you were stirring up trouble without us realizing it." His dad gives him a smile full of warmth. "But look at you now. The knights have clearly taught you some sense of responsibility given your position. It's one thing to hear about your work in your letters, but to hear it from you directly? Seems like you've really found your place in the knights."
Lohen can't help but feel a little stunned. Now that his dad says it aloud, it really puts things into perspective. His adventuring days were back when he was desperate to find some action, throwing himself into fights without any regard for his own safety. If he came out of those fights bloodied and bruised, it reminded him that he was still alive—and that he still had room to get stronger.
These days, he's still constantly seeking strength. Lohen doesn't think that feeling will ever go away. But his dad does make a good point: he does have a place in the knights—a place where he can make good use of the power at his disposal. He's hardly fighting for just himself anymore; when it comes to the battlefield, even when it's Lohen caught in the eye of the storm, his company isn't that far away from him to provide back-up.
There's so many stories that he can tell about the knights, ones that he never got the chance to talk about when he wrote back to his parents.
He leans forward a little in his seat.
"I can tell you more," he says, and he notices the way his dad seems to perk up at this, as if interested in what Lohen has to tell him. Lohen can't remember the last time they've had such a lengthy conversation like this one. "What would you like to know?"
Richard hums, rubbing his chin as if contemplating the question in great length.
"Tell me more about the people you work with," Richard says, giving Lohen a small smile. "You mentioned Eula earlier. Any other individuals that are as hard-working as her?"
Lohen chuckles, rubbing his hands together.
"Trust me, I got a whole list. Tell me, which name sticks out to you more: Albedo, or Mika?"
It's only when Lohen has thoroughly talked his dad's ear off that his mom is finally done with preparing dinner.
When they both make their way to the dining table, they're both surprised to see the sheer amount of dishes that Minna ended up preparing. His mom always made a mean crab, ham, and veggie bake, but there's also some chicken-mushroom skewers, hashbrowns, a large salad, and even a few servings of sticky honey roast. Judging from the way there's still a timer ticking on the counter, there's definitely some apple roly polys in the oven. The sweet scent of apples lingering in the air is a dead giveaway.
"Ma, are you kidding me?" Lohen asks in disbelief. "You didn't have to go through all the effort of making all of this! We could've just had the veggie bake and called it a night."
"And miss out on the chance to make food for you? Nonsense, Lohen. Just absolute nonsense." Minna shakes her head as she helps ease Richard into his seat.
"You're acting as if Lohen won't be staying with us for the whole week," Richard reminds her with an amused chuckle.
His mom pouts. "Still…! I couldn't resist making a huge dinner. It's been so long since we last ate as a family. Can't blame me for wanting to savor the moment a little."
It's an absurd amount of food. She might have gone a little overboard, but Lohen is going to let her have this one. He doesn't think he has the heart to argue with her any more on the matter, not when she looks so happy.
He glances in the direction of the kitchen and notices the amount of dishes that are piled in the sink.
"You definitely need help with that though," Lohen says before he looks back at Minna. He gives her a cheeky grin. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Ma. You've already done enough for tonight. It's my turn to do something for you."
His mom rolls her eyes, but her expression is one of gratitude.
"Fine, fine! If you insist. For now, your job is to enjoy the food, mister!"
"Message received," he laughs. "All that talking made me work up an appetite."
It doesn't take long for them to pile their plates, utensils scraping against polished porcelain.
Lohen doesn't think anything can possibly compare to a homemade meal—much less one that was prepared by his mom.
It fills his chest with a warmth that he hasn't felt in a long while.
A light pair of footsteps from outside wakes Lohen up late that night.
He's always been a light sleeper—ever since he got rescued all those years, it's easy for him to wake up at the smallest noises and disturbances, no matter how close or far they happen from him. For how often he camped out late at night, it was a blessing that kept him on his toes lest any intruders decided to ambush him. It also helped him whenever anyone would come knocking at his door at headquarters, though whether he was successful at making sure he slacked off depended on the person that was looking for him.
In normal circumstances, he'd get up and investigate the noise for himself.
Instead, Lohen shifts onto his side before closing his eyes. He stays in his bed, and he waits.
The footsteps are quick, as if the person in question is trying to survey their surroundings. But there's not a sense of hesitation in their steps. They circle from the front of the house to the side in just a matter of seconds, barely making a sound. If Lohen didn't know any better, he'd think that this person was already rather familiar with the overall layout of his home. Based on the path that this mysterious person is taking, they are nearing Richard's workshop located in the backyard.
But what intrigues Lohen the most is that they don't reach the backyard. Instead, they're returning to the front of the house just as quickly as they first arrived, and it's not long before they're finally scurrying off, their footsteps fading under the veil of moonlight.
Lohen tries to bite back the smirk that's threatening to tug at his lips.
What a delightful turn of events.