The feast continued for a while after Garth and Leon arrived.
Stories flowed freely around the table. Old arguments resurfaced. New ones were created. Somewhere along the way I learned that Garth and my grandfather had once been banned from three separate districts in the same year, though nobody seemed willing to explain exactly why.
The more I listened, the more obvious one thing became.
Everyone had mentioned my grandfather. Nobody had actually told where he was. Eventually curiosity won.
I set down my cup.
"Can I ask something?"
Several conversations paused.
"Of course," Arlen said.
"Where is my grandfather?"
The reaction was immediate. Mira suddenly became very interested in her food. Jess took a slow sip from her drink.
Garth outright started laughing.
I narrowed my eyes.
"That’s not a good sign."
"No," Leon agreed. "It really isn’t."
The scholar’s response only made me more suspicious. Across the table, Arlen closed his eyes. The expression on his face belonged to a man confronting an extremely familiar problem.
"Please tell me he’s at home."
Nobody answered. That silence somehow said everything.
Arlen opened one eye.
"He went drinking again, didn’t he?"
Garth immediately pointed at Jess.
"To be fair, she encouraged him."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I merely told him there was a new tavern."
"Exactly."
"That’s encouragement?"
"For Roland?" Garth asked. "Yes."
Arlen rubbed his forehead. For the first time all evening, he looked genuinely tired.
"How long has he been gone?"
Jess considered the question.
"Yesterday."
A pause.
"Possibly the day before."
"Jess."
"What? Time passes."
A collective groan spread around the table.
I blinked.
"He looks like a heavy drinker."
"More of a collector of drinks," Garth corrected.
"The problem is that Roland treats all of them as personal property."
Meanwhile Arlen pointed toward Leon.
"You."
Leon immediately frowned.
"No."
"That wasn’t a request."
"It should have been."
"Go retrieve Roland."
The younger man sighed.
"Any idea where he is?"
"There are six locations."
The entire table offered Leon looks of sympathy.
He accepted them with the resignation of a man who had performed this task many times before. A few moments later he disappeared through the front door.
The conversation eventually resumed, though Roland’s absence became the center of several increasingly ridiculous stories.
Apparently this was normal. Which somehow made me even more curious to meet him. Almost an hour passed before the front door opened again.
Conversation died instantly.
Leon stepped inside first. Roland entered behind him.
For a moment nobody spoke. The old man stood motionless in the doorway. His gaze had already found me. Everything else seemed to disappear.
A strange mixture of emotions crossed his face.
Surprise.
Disbelief.
Relief.
Hope.
So many emotions appeared and vanished that I couldn’t identify them all before they disappeared again.
The silence stretched.
Then Roland laughed softly.
"You look like your father."
The words struck harder than I expected. The old man took a slow breath before walking toward the table.
When he finally reached me, he extended a hand.
"I never had the chance to meet you."
His voice was calm and smooth. Yet somehow that made the emotion beneath it even more obvious.
"So let me introduce myself properly."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Roland Ironhart, your grandfather."
I took his hand.
"Billion."
"I know."
The answer was immediate with a knowing smile on his face. He sat down on the chair beside me.
For several moments neither of us spoke. Then he asked the question I suspected he had been carrying for a very long time.
"Your grandmother."
His voice softened.
"How is she?"
A small smile appeared on my face.
"She’s good. Still as stubborn as ever."
A quiet chuckle escaped Roland.
"That sounds right."
"She’s still fighting. Doing everything she can. Still helping people. Still pushing forward."
Several people around the table nodded.
Roland didn’t. He simply listened.
Then nodded once.
A small nod.
Yet somehow it felt more meaningful than any speech.
"Good. How is Vaythos?"
This time the answer came easier.
"Safe. The phantoms are gone. Abominations are becoming rarer every year. Cities are expanding again. People are rebuilding."
I paused.
"For the first time in a long time, it feels like the world is moving forward instead of just surviving."
Roland sat quietly for a few seconds.
Then nodded again.
"Good. That’s really good news. I would love to hear the entire story from you."
Before the conversation could continue, Garth slapped the table.
"Enough."
Everyone turned toward him.
The old man pointed dramatically at Roland.
"Your grandson has been here for hours and we’ve spent the whole time discussing family matters."
Roland frowned.
"Because he is family."
"When exactly were you planning to introduce the boy to your alcohol collection?" Garth grinned.
The entire table erupted.
Roland nearly choked.
"My what?"
"Your collection."
"What collection?"
"The one hidden beneath your house."
Several people immediately started laughing.
Leon sighed.
"There’s actually more than one."
"Traitor," Roland muttered.
Mira pointed accusingly.
"I’ve been saying for years that inventory requires proper cataloguing."
"You are not cataloguing my alcohol."
"I absolutely am."
"Billion," Garth announced, "I want you to understand that your grandfather possesses enough alcohol to destabilize several local economies."
"It is an investment."
The argument exploded around the table almost instantly. For several minutes, everyone talked over everyone else.
The old man wasn’t really paying attention to the argument anymore. Every now and then his eyes drifted toward me.
Each time they did, I caught a different expression crossing his face. As though he still couldn’t decide which emotion he was supposed to feel.
The room was warm.
Loud.
Comfortable.
A place filled with people who had somehow accepted me without hesitation.
I waited for a break in the conversation.
"Grandfather."
The room gradually quieted.
Roland immediately looked toward me.
"Yes?"
I hesitated for only a second.
"When will my parents be back?"
The question seemed to hit the table harder than I expected. The laughter disappeared.
Several people exchanged glances.
Roland’s expression softened.
"Not for a while."
Something in my chest sank.
"Oh."
"They’re currently on assignment."
"I know. I just thought maybe..."
Maybe they would come back soon. Maybe they already knew. Maybe they were already on their way.
I wasn’t even sure what answer I had been hoping for.
Roland studied me for a long moment.
Then suddenly he pushed himself out of his chair.
"Well."
Everyone looked at him. The old man brushed invisible dust from his coat.
"That settles it."
"Settles what?"
"We should go visit them."
The entire table froze. Then chaos erupted.
"No."
"Absolutely not."
"Roland, don’t you dare."
"That is a terrible idea."
Arlene looked horrified.
"You cannot just appear in the middle of an active mission."
Roland ignored him.
Leon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Sir, they are deployed."
"So?"
"So normal people don’t interrupt field operations."
Roland pointed at me.
"My grandson wants to see his parents."
"And?"
"And my grandson is a saint."
The old man slowly swept his gaze across the entire table.
"So all of you can keep your mouths shut."
Silence.
"I am being completely serious."
A grin slowly appeared on his face.
"Tell me, Billion."
The mischievous sparkle in his eyes was suddenly impossible to miss.
"How would you feel about surprising your parents?"