That evening, mother and daughter found themselves sharing a room—not out of choice, but necessity. The manor, though noble in structure, offered limited accommodations. They were assigned Lara’s old room.
Jethru had long intended to expand the estate, but his vision for education took precedence. The school he was building had claimed both his resources and his focus.
Lady Freya, however, welcomed the arrangement. A rare chance, she thought, to rekindle a closeness with her daughter—both in heart and in presence. As they settled into the quiet room, she found comfort in the soft rustle of linens and the warmth of Lara’s company.
Elsewhere on the grounds, Hephastus and the Norse guards had been housed in the martial arts dormitory. Few students had enrolled—Calma, after all, was a small, unassuming town—but it lent the manor a sense of readiness and discipline.
As the night deepened, Freya moved to the edge of the bed and sat beside Lara, who was quietly reading a letter.
"What did your father say?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Lara passed her the letter, and Freya’s brow furrowed as she read. "Your father and Gideon have reached Carles safely. But Estalis is stirring again. That damn Heimdal... I suppose he foresaw this, which is why he granted Carles to your father as his fief."
Lara gave a contemplative hum. "Carles is a strategic stronghold. If I were the king of Estalis, I wouldn’t surrender it easily either—especially with the natural barrier between Carles and Northem."
"By the way, Mother, Master has sent back a message that we haven’t arrived yet. I hope that Father could send another message so he is aware that we are fine."
"How could a falcon even find this place?" Freya added, brows raised.
"They trained it," Lara said. "Bener and Galahad came here last month. They thought I had returned."
Freya considered that. "How far is Calma from Carles?"
Lara smiled knowingly. "There’s a shortcut, Mother. Through Mount Ourea. It would only take a day or two."
"Really? You should tell your father and brothers that so they can come visit."
"How about we surprise them, Mother." Lara said excitedly.
Freya was instantly swept up in her daughter’s excitement. "Oh, yes! I’ve always wanted to see Galeya’s Throne in Mount Roca. And I must meet Thunder, your tiger friend!"
She spoke so animatedly, she hardly noticed the danger involved in entering Mount Roca at all.
The next morning, Lara rose early and slipped into her morning exercises. The cool air of dawn filled the courtyard as she moved with grace and precision. Her mother joined the other women of Gabriella in Master Samuel’s gentler routines, finding both strength and serenity in the movement.
Later, Freya and Lara met with Lina, Lucas, and their cute son, Leon. Though Lara hadn’t known Lina well, she’d heard that when Primo took the fall for his family, Lina insisted on coming along—Delia was all she had left in the world.
To visit her uncle’s family, Lara rode a tryke through narrow alleyways, Benwick pedaling with almost comic pride. Behind them, Dyor pedaled a sidecar—a gift from Lara to the brothers. The two guards, not afforded such luxury, followed begrudgingly on foot.
The house was modest—only two alleys from the manor—but decent. Four bedrooms, a small living area, and a narrow kitchen tucked at the back.
It was Abel who opened the gate of a decent looking house with four bedrooms, a small living room and a kitchen at the back.
When he opened the gate, Freya stilled, then pressed a trembling hand to her lips.
"Mother? Are you alright?"
Her voice cracked. "My little brother... He suffered so much. And now... this tiny house?" Her anguish hung in the air, heavy and raw.
Lara remained silent. Should she show her mother the home they once lived in at the village? Would it break her heart?
Abel stood at the gate dumbfounded. He did not know what to make out of the strange looking vehicle. Soon the rest of his bothers crowded the gate and even Eva and Flora’s cute face peeked out through the gap between Abel and Darius who were standing stiffly.
Before Lara could step down, two high-pitched squeals pierced the air. The girls broke free and rushed toward her.
"Sister! Sister, you’re back!" they cried, their joy echoing through the alley.
Lara, clad in a sundress printed with tiny blue lilies, her copper hair swept back in a ponytail, opened her arms. Moments later, four different voices joined in unison.
She vanished under a wave of hugs and laughter.
Abel, who had turned sixteen that month had grown a head taller and so was Barett. Probabaly, they had enough food to eat that they experience a growth spurt.
Then, at the doorway, Freya’s breath caught. A ruggedly handsome man in his mid-thirties stood frozen, clad in a royal blue tunic and a gray cloak. A white feather adorned his helmet.
Lady Freya choked. When their gazes locked, Primo was shocked that he stood frozen beside Delia.
"Primo..." she whispered.
He didn’t move. Delia stepped forward, breaking the stillness.
"Sister in law!" She greeted warmly then took big strides toward Freya and engulfed her in a big hug. She was laughing and crying at the same time as she held Freya’s hand.
Lara cleared her throat. "Mother, Aunt Delia, we are attracting quite a crowd. How about we go inside?"
Delia led them in, but Primo still stood dazed. Finally, Delia shook his arm.
"Husband, what is wrong with you? You elder sister is here. Why are you not saying a thing?" Delia shook his arm and pulled on his sleeve.
"Sis," he breathed, pulling Freya into a tight, tearful embrace. He hasn’t seen her for ten years.
Five years his senior, Freya had been both sister and guardian. She shared her food, her warmth, her childhood laughter. She, like Lara, had been the only girl among many brothers—and was cherished accordingly.
Later, as Delia introduced the children, Lara slipped outside with her cousins and distributed the gifts she’d brought.
They left the siblings to have a heart to heart talk.
When she presented the bicycle with its detachable sidecar, the boys were stunned.
"Sis... what is this?" Abel asked.
"My gift to you," Lara replied warmly. "I couldn’t bring one for each of you, but you can share."
She demonstrated how to use and detach the sidecar. The brothers’ faces lit up with joy—pure, unfiltered happiness.
And in that moment, surrounded by family, Freya watched her daughter with pride swelling in her chest. The scars of hardship hadn’t hardened Lara’s and Primo’s hearts. They had strengthened it.
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