It was mid-afternoon and for once Jarek was out and about in Rus, hanging out in one of the small town’s less reputable taverns.

Instead he was home, dressed properly for once, in the formal kit of a warrior. Cleanly shaved and looking in handsome in an orange and blue of the Oddmund family colors.

Looking like the proud knight-Captain that his wife Olivia had married instead of the depressed, rascal that the ruination of his cultivation based had made of him.

The kids were dressed too, all of them wearing their Sunday best. Egon and Wallace were suits similar to that of their father’s. Vanessa wore a delicate dress of green and blue frills.

The only one who’d been missing while the rest of the family was cleaning and sprucing both the house and themselves, was little Edwin.

Jarek found the boy in his room. Sitting in a corner. Staring at a wall. Mumbling to himself as if he were reading something.

From the moment of his birth, till now, twelve years later, the man had always known that his youngest son was “special”. Whether it was a good special or a bad special, whether it was something to be worried about or something to embrace, old Jarek had no clue.

All he could do was try and be a good father and treat him with the same gruffness and affection that he’d given to the other children.

“Oi….little man. You getting ready in here?”

The boy didn’t turn around, staring at….whatever it was...he was looking at in the sparse empty wall.

“...Affirmative...Room’s already clean, sir.” said the boy.

The vis-Oddmund were one of those family with enough resources to hire folk in the town to help them clean and cook and take care of the grounds. But to teach their children discipline they made them take care of their own rooms. On a red letter day like today that duty was given extra emphasis.

Jarek looked around at the room, chewing on his tongue, with a wry expression on his face.

Little Edwin’s bedroom, was empty of toys, the walls empty of pictures or trophies, the floor clear of all footwear save the pair he was to wear on days like today and the one’s he wore every other day.

If it weren’t the for the bed that was always neatly pressed, it hard to know that anyone had already claimed the space.

Having said this...for those same reasons, that odd appearance of seeming unused for a bedroom, also counted as the room being technically clean.

“How about getting dressed champ?” said Jarek. Deciding not to broach the subject because it usually lead another circular argument.

Edwin looked at himself and he looked at his father and then he looked at himself.

Jarek sighed, his youngest son, was both the most difficult and easy to deal with, amongst the four children.

Accepting and obeying most orders and requests, but seeming to sometimes miss the point or intentions behind those requests.

“...In nicer clothes, please.” said Jarek. Massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Ah...okay.”

The boy immediately began to strip, showing off his lithe leaf-green form as he changed from one set of clothes to another.

Jarek wanted to argue for something nicer, but seeing that the clothes were ironed and the boy was neat and presentable enough, he simply chose to leave things as they were.

*****

Elsewhere, over the small hillock that hid Rus from the rest of the townships of Otmar county came a troop.

All of them armored in either leather or bronze. Some of them armed with swords, some of them armed with bows, some of them armed with staves. With the majority bearing clubs, rifles and pikes.

These were Rus’s portion of the Otmar Protectorate, the standing army of Otmar. Most of them were common soldiers. Regular folk who’d joined on for the promise of coin and a chance to protect their kin folk from beasts and bandit scum.

There were also a few cultivators there as well, who’d deal with the worst of threat with their heightened combat strength and essence born abilities.

As was usually the case in most of Embla’s armies leadership was decided by a mixture of personal strength and social status. E.I. cultivation, competence and who you knew.

Wearing the mantle and cape of a protectorate Captain were two of Rus’s finest and strongest. One Edgar Forester and one Olivia vis-Oddmund.

The two entered the edges of the town’s inner territorial bounds, and had their men do an about face, that parked the group in front of the small fort that lay just beyond the town’s outer bounds, on inner edge of the low walls that lined the territory.

The Protectorate force was merged with the waiting ranks of the town guard, those that had been left behind in Rus while the protectorate patrolled with the lord’s forces.

After a ritualistic trumpet salute to the County’s lord, Count McBriar, the men were dismissed.

“Well...til next time then, Captain vis-Oddmund…” grumped the grizzled, one eyed Forester.

“...Right.” said Olivia.

The two rode back on horseback, each of them heading toward the same direction but from opposite angles.

The Foresters had a compound just a little ways outside of town, and as for the vis-Oddmunds, they were like most other branch families in that they lived, in the part of town that their clan's, main family held in their control.

*****

The closer to home she was, the more Olivia changed. Shifting from being the stern, nonsense, hard-nailed warrior, an jotun terror of the battlefield, to being a stern, no nonsense, world-wearied woman... to just being a homesick, world-wearied woman.

Then she reached her home, the middling-sized, brick and wood structure that the Oddmund clan allotted to her husband and saw him standing at the gate with her children behind him. And she leapt into the man’s arms, allowing herself to just be a wife and mother. Happy to have made it back to people she loved.

“Alright then give mommy a hug, yeah?” said Olivia with her arms held open.

Jarek pouted as he watched his kids rush to their mother. The boys being awkward about the process having become reserved as they grew older.

“What about me, love?”

“You...get a different sort of hug but that’ll have to wait for later.” said Olivia.

“Ew, Mom...there are children present!” said Wallace. His face scrunched in mock-disgust.