Amidst Duty and Exhaustion - Tears of The Fallen Angel

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The atmosphere inside the meeting hall was thick with fatigue and exhaustion. Scattered papers, incomplete reports, and tired eyes struggled to focus amidst the noise of restless thoughts. Alethion, accustomed to such settings, looked around at his companions, finding them deeply immersed in thought, their faces weary and their minds drained from continuous investigations.

Realizing that continuing like this would be futile, he spoke in a calm yet firm voice:

"That's enough for today. Go get some rest—your minds need clarity before we resume tomorrow."

Some hesitated for a moment, as if resisting the idea of stopping, but they knew he was right. The generals exchanged glances before slowly rising, preparing to leave.

But Rajarth didn't move. He stood in place, staring directly at Alethion, then asked with a tone mixed with curiosity and challenge:

"And what about you? Will you rest as well?"

It wasn't an innocent question; it felt more like a test. Alethion, who was used to pushing himself to the limit, didn't hesitate as he crossed his arms and replied:

"Not yet."

The answer was expected, but it didn't satisfy Rajarth. The generals exchanged meaningful looks, as if silently agreeing that Alethion wouldn't rest on his own. Rajarth said nothing more. Instead, with a sudden movement, he grabbed Alethion and hoisted him over his shoulder as if he were nothing more than a sack of grain.

"What are you doing?!" Alethion grumbled, trying to wriggle free, but Rajarth paid him no mind.

"Doing what should've been done long ago. You're overworking yourself," Rajarth said nonchalantly, striding down the hall.

No one dared intervene. In fact, some guards struggled to stifle their laughter as they watched their commander being carried in such an undignified manner.

When they reached the stables, Rajarth didn't stop. He approached Alethion's loyal horse, Stormyth, and firmly placed Alethion on its back. Before he could protest, Rajarth smacked the horse's flank, sending it galloping away from the castle at full speed.

Rajarth stood at the stable entrance, watching the horse disappear into the distance, then muttered with a sly smile:

"If you won't rest willingly, we'll make you."

As for Alethion, he clutched the reins, trying to regain control, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips. Perhaps Rajarth was right this time.

The sun had begun to paint its warm hues across the horizon when Alethion finally arrived home. The air was refreshing, and the peaceful quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos he'd left behind at the castle.

Before he could even dismount, he heard an excited voice shout:

"Father's back!"

Alethion looked toward the courtyard and saw his son practicing alone with a wooden sword, his breath slightly labored but his enthusiasm shining through.

Moments later, his wife emerged from the house, followed by their young daughter and her governess. His wife's face reflected a blend of worry and relief, while his daughter ran toward him on unsteady little feet, laughing with joy.

He swiftly dismounted, catching his daughter in his arms as she leaped toward him. His wife approached with quick steps, her eyes glinting as if searching for any sign of harm. She smiled softly and whispered:

"Welcome back, you stubborn man."

Before he could respond, the head servant appeared at the doorway, with all the staff lined up neatly behind him, bowing respectfully.

In a quiet voice tinged with gentle reproach, the head servant said:

"Had you informed me earlier, I would've prepared a proper welcome for your return, my lord."

Alethion smiled faintly, his gaze sweeping over the faces surrounding him—his family and the staff he'd always considered part of it. For a brief moment, the burdens of the past days felt lighter, warmed by the simple yet heartfelt welcome.

Then, setting his daughter down and ruffling his son's hair, he spoke with a voice weary from long days but filled with gratitude:

"This is more than enough… I'm home."

Alethion entered the house with steady steps, a broad smile on his face, flanked by his wife and the governess, Alenia, while his children followed happily. The warmth inside the home embraced him, filled with the scent of aged wood and light fragrances that brought comfort.

He paused for a moment, taking in the place he had missed so dearly, then sighed with contentment and said:

"I'd like to bathe before dinner."

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The atmosphere inside the meeting hall was thick with exhaustion and fatigue. Scattered papers, incomplete reports, and tired eyes struggled to focus amid the noise of conflicting thoughts. Aelithion, accustomed to such environments, glanced around at his companions, finding them lost in thought, their faces weary, and their minds nearly drained from continuous investigations.

Realizing that continuing in this manner would be futile, he spoke in a calm yet firm voice:

"That's enough for today. Go rest; your minds need clarity before we resume our search tomorrow."

Some hesitated for a moment, as if resisting the idea of stopping, but they knew he was right. The generals exchanged looks before slowly rising, preparing to leave.

But Ragarath didn't move. He stood in place, looking directly at Aelithion, then asked in a tone that mixed curiosity and challenge:

"What about you? Will you rest as well?"

The question wasn't innocent—it felt like a test. Aelithion, used to pushing himself to the limit, didn't hesitate to respond, crossing his arms:

"Not yet."

The answer was expected but unsatisfactory to Ragarath. The generals exchanged knowing glances, silently agreeing that Aelithion would never rest on his own. Ragarath said nothing. Instead, he suddenly moved, swiftly grabbing Aelithion and hoisting him over his shoulder as if he were a mere sack of grain.

"What are you doing?!" Aelithion grumbled, trying to break free, but Ragarath ignored him.

"Doing what should've been done long ago. You push yourself too hard," Ragarath replied nonchalantly, making his way through the corridors.

No one dared intervene; even some guards struggled to suppress their laughter at the sight of their leader being carried in such an undignified manner.

When they reached the stables, Ragarath didn't stop. He approached Aelithion's loyal horse, Stormith, and firmly placed him atop it. Without giving him a chance to protest, he slapped the horse's flank, sending it galloping away from the castle at full speed.

Ragarath stood at the stable's entrance, watching the horse disappear into the distance, then muttered with a sly smile:

"If you won't rest by choice, we'll force you to."

As for Aelithion, he gripped the reins, trying to regain control of the horse, but couldn't suppress a light chuckle escaping his lips. Maybe Ragarath was right this time.

The sunset painted a warm canvas on the horizon as Aelithion finally arrived home. The air was refreshing, and the tranquility around the place starkly contrasted the chaos he'd left behind at the castle.

Before he could even dismount, he heard an enthusiastic voice shouting:

"Father's back!"

Aelithion looked towards the yard and saw his son practicing alone with a wooden sword, his breath slightly labored from exertion but his voice filled with clear excitement.

Moments later, his wife emerged from the house, followed by their young daughter and her nanny. His wife's face reflected a mix of worry and relief, while his daughter ran toward him with tiny, stumbling steps, laughing joyfully.

He dismounted gracefully, catching his daughter as she leaped into his arms. His wife approached quickly, her eyes sparkling as she scanned him briefly, ensuring he was unharmed before whispering with a soft smile:

"Welcome back, you stubborn man."

Before he could respond, the head butler, Arndal, appeared at the door, with the rest of the staff lined up neatly behind him, bowing respectfully.

In a calm voice tinged with gentle reproach, Arndal said:

"Had I known earlier, I'd have prepared a proper welcome for your return, my lord."

Aelithion smiled faintly, taking in the familiar faces around him—his family and the staff he'd always considered part of it. The weight of the past days lightened for a moment, warmed by this simple yet heartfelt welcome.

Then, placing his daughter down and ruffling his son's hair, he spoke with a voice weary from days of strain but filled with gratitude: