Rigor looked out into the distance from his bedroom window, contemplating. The sun had begun to sink below the horizon, and birds of various colors flew across the sky. Rigor felt a relation with these birds, how they tried to fly great distances in one go, only to fail midway. Like the birds, Rigor had tried to support Eric's development as a parent when his mother passed away, only to find Eric now despondent. He sighed, his eyes staring into the distance as a bird was preparing to teach its young how to fly.

A knock came at Eric's door, punctual as before. Rigor didn't turn around as he spoke with a trace of sorrow in his voice.

"Come in Marcus. Come in."

The accountant came in, locking the door behind him. Marcus looked to and fro, grinning momentarily. She isn't here. Maybe he has taken my advice.

Marcus made his way beside Rigor, seeing his lord staring out the window. He wasn't able to discern the faint sorrow in Rigor's eyes.

"Lord Faulkner, I have come to speak of the matters of supply in our manor." Marcus flipped through parchment, locating the one he wrote a few moments prior.

"Go ahead, Marcus. Speak." Rigor continued to watch the family of Rosary Eagle's outside. The father of the baby bird was holding its young in its beak, just ready to drop its child from the branch. The baby seemed to enjoy the height, unaware of the fatality of falling.

"I spoke with the Chef, the Doctor, and others. Our supply requirements are as follows..." Marcus cleared his throat and began to speak.

"The Chef requires a new cutting board, a cost of 17 Madrag coins."

"The Doctor needs 3 batches of vials and more Poisonmare's Demise, a total cost of 62 Madrag coins."

"The Ostler requires a set of new harnesses, a total cost of 20 Madrag coins."

"The Carpenter needs a new hammer and nails. A total cost of 37 Madrag coins."

Rigor didn't hear anything Marcus had said. He was still gazing on the pack of Rosary Eagles. The father had just released its baby from its beak, the little bundle of feathers falling from through the air.

The little baby eagle tried to lift its wings several times. Panic filled its eyes as it realized the wings weren't flapping hard enough. Just before it hit the ground, the baby managed to fly, slowly reaching back to the nest. Joy replaced panic as it looked on the world after passing this journey of life.

But do all birds truly fly after being dropped? Rigor couldn't help but liken himself to the father, having dropped a bird that did not come back to him. Instead, his own child remained cold and far away.

Marcus soon noticed that Rigor was paying him no attention. Following Rigor's line of sight, Marcus too saw the family of birds. The parent eagle lifted another baby out of its nest, preparing to drop it from the sky. This little one was more playful, shifting around with its big eyes and cawing without end.

"Rigor, what ails you?" Marcus lifted a chair nearby to sit next to Rigor. He placed the papers on the windowsill, looking at his friend's face. The vitality of Rigor's face was gone ever since his wife Amela died.

"What ails me, Marcus, is not of the mind, not of the body, nor of the soul. It is of the heart that ails me. Ails me as much as Amela's passing." Rigor spoke with heavy sorrow. The trace of raw masculinity in his voice was largely gone.

"Is it Eric's living at Morosbo?" Marcus looked at Rigor, guessing his answer was right.

Marcus placed a palm on Rigor's backside, beginning to comfort him with his words.

"Rigor, you shouldn't take his actions to heart. After all, this is simply a phase, we all know it. With his mother's passing, chances are he holds you accountable. The two did share a strong bond, you know." Marcus tried to console Rigor, looking at Rigor's face for improvement, only to find none.

Rigor turned to Marcus, looking into the old accountant's eyes.

"Do you believe I had something to do with her death, Marcus?" Rigor waited for Marcus to reply, now ignoring the birds outside.

Marcus hesitated, confusion written on his face. "No, of course not! I believed you Rigor that she died from her illness, and I still do. Who would think you would kill your own wife? You two were so close, so loving."

"I know you do not think that, Marcus. I think Eric, on the other hand, does." Rigor looked at his hands, his sadness visible in his voice. "I once held a living child and a dead woman in both these hands. And now both are far from me."

Marcus wasn't sure what to say. "Rigor, enough of this. The more you speculate as to why Eric is not home with you, the more terrible you will feel."

"For all you know, he might have left because of the finery. Your son isn't like you, Rigor. He's far more simplistic, and more restrained." Marcus thought about the last fight the father and son had about the wealth used to make the palace. He couldn't help but chuckle.

Rigor's complexion improved as he began to laugh as well. He then remembered what Marcus had said. "Restrained? What do you mean by that, Marcus? Am I not restrained?"

Marcus wore a heavy frown. "You should know what I mean by 'restrained,' Rigor Faulkner. You and your 'flower sampling' has to end."

"So what of the supplies then? Should I go ahead and make the preparations?" Marcus gestured the papers towards Rigor.

"Do as you wish. You should know well by now why I made you my accountant." Rigor smiled, watching as Marcus leave.

"Yes, I do know. I handle your daily affairs, and you enjoy the life of a bachelor until your death. I understand very well." Marcus looked back to Rigor's complex expression, shaking his head as he left through the door.

He doesn't understand. Until he has found someone of his own, could he truly understand? Marcus and Rigor had grown up as friends together, crossing the rift between the nobility and the citizenry. It would be better to say they were opposites, complementing the other in their flaws. Wherever one failed, the other excelled. It was one of the reasons their friendship lasted so long.

Given such a relationship, both knew of the other's romantic exploits and whatnot. Whereas Rigor courted many a lady in his youthful prime, Marcus stayed away from matters of the heart. He kept his life to attaining knowledge, and became more cultured. Rigor eventually married Amela and had a son, but Marcus avoided even the few women that had interest in him.

Amela, you asked me to love Eric for you, but I am only one person. I can never fill the void you left. Rigor thought back to his wife, to holding her close.

Rigor did not love her for her features, but loved her for her heart. Her personality soothed his life, and gave him tranquility he had never known. Before anyone would have known, he had proposed to her. Who knew he was turned away at first, left to stand in Merister watching Amela walk away.

Amela was the daughter of a dying noble bloodline, she the last heir of the Voltru. Even so, she dealt with suitors as if she was the Alberdan Empress herself, cautious and very testing of any man. Rigor was one among many trying to win her heart, but his past as a womanizer gave Amela much reason to disregard him.

Under his earnest effort, Rigor finally won her over, the two marrying in the city of Evaline in a beautiful portion of the city. Here they enjoyed their first days together, holding one another near wherever they went in Merister.

Eventually, Amela grew pregnant with Eric, and Rigor became the head of the Faulkner family and also a potential father. The stress of overseeing the Faulkner holdings and also taking care of Amela convinced him to search for an aide. Marcus quickly came to help Rigor in this critical moment, surprising the couple. After all, Marcus at the time was doing very well for himself as a professor at the Imperial Alberdos Academy.

Thanks to Marcus, Rigor was able to smile to this day. His son was born without a hitch, and Rigor held the crying child in his arms with joy. Rigor considered returning to the affairs of being head of Faulkner, but Marcus declined to leave so soon. Rigor still felt he owed his old friend far too much.

Sadly only a year passed since Eric's birth before Amela grew ill. Many a doctor visited her, only to shake their heads after they left the Faulkner home in Merister. Rigor searched for a cause, finally finding a doctor that gave him the answer. His wife was facing the aftermath of birth, nothing more than depression without a cause.

Rigor tried many a medicine to bring his wife back to her former state, but nothing could heal her. He examined her with Aura, but nothing came back as the cause. Eric had just became age two, yet it was Marcus and Rigor largely taking care of him. Amela was lost in her thoughts, staring at the clouds through the couple's bedroom. What little she ate did not stop her body from becoming thin and frail.

Just before it seemed she would die, Amela returned to normal. Eric had no memory of his mother's illness, and quickly bonded with her as they walked around Merister. On the occasion Rigor was free he would join them, and the rumor of the Faulkner's happiness began to spread outwards throughout the land. Or at least that was until tragedy struck.

News reached out throughout the land the Empress of Alberdos was assassinated by the grand elder of the Alberdan War Council, and much of the population grew depressed. Amela became distant and depressed once again; her former friend and role model had died, and she spent many days in grief for the former Empress after the funeral.

Rigor tried to help Amela overcome her grief, but his attempts failed miserably. Amela began to appear less and less, spending her days once again locked up inside of the couple's chambers, tears rolling down her cheeks. With the ongoing power struggles between Faulkner and the Merister and Wessor factions, Rigor decided to move his family to the Evaline countryside, hoping for his wife to return to her former self.

And then, the fateful day of Amela's death arrived. The cause for her death was unclear, and the only witness was Rigor himself weeping beside her. Eric was so young and the bond he had with his mother was deep. In an attempt to prevent his son from morphing as well, Rigor made preparations to erase the portion of Eric's memories. He feared Amela's passing would devastate Eric's upbringing.

Eric slowly grew up, and Rigor believed that Eric had no memories of Amela's passing, hoping he stayed the same. However, Eric may have forgotten his memories, but he never forgot his feelings of the time. Struggling to understand the gap in his life, Eric began to search secretly for the cause. In so doing, the father and son grew increasingly distant to the present day.

Eric was now aged 16, about the same age Rigor was being raised to lead the house of Faulkner by his own father. Eric was simply too different than Rigor, the two sharing different tastes, values, and beliefs. This only worked to separate the two further, to the point Eric bought a parcel of land in Morosbo, where he currently resided.

Still grieving over his single wife, Rigor descended in his own state of depression before he began courting women once again. The difference was he no longer searched for someone to love, but for someone to fill the gap in his heart. Rumors began to spread of how he would select maidens, give them momentary love, and rid of them the next day. Rigor repeated this often, for the love he received from these women weren't genuine, weren't comparable to Amela's love and care.

If there was a way, Amela, I would have done it. Without you, there is no reason. No reason to live except for Eric. Rigor stood up in front of the large mirror set on his wardrobe, looking at the figure in front of him. How the years passed by, how his once adventurous youthful air was replaced by the gritty reality of life. Rigor finally understood the words of the sages. One only knows the value of love when love is no longer given.

But your son, Amela, he hates me. He thinks I robbed you of your moments on Deifor, and sees me as the cause of your demise. Rigor memories returned to when his son began to speak less with him, to when fights over trivial matters would occur. Eventually Eric bought the estate in Morosbo which once belonged to the Voltru, and had it made into his own home. He left without saying much a word to Rigor, only telling Marcus of his actions.

I've tried to reason with him, but my answers are treated as lies. If I told him the truth, would he believe me? Rigor was the only one who knew how his wife actually died. When Marcus and the other servants found him, Rigor was holding his wife in his arms, his tears gracing her motionless face. The few candles in the room flickered with his shadow cast on the wall, trembling as he felt the warmth of his wife fade away into oblivion.

Rigor looked back to his bed, remembering how he held his wife's hand as they went to sleep each day. Of how he held that hand as they became married, of how he held her when she gave birth to Eric. Timeless memories, and Amela remained alive only through Rigor's recollection of each one.

Deep down he felt a trace of guilt when he took another temporary lover to his bed, but that trace melted away in the nights of passion he enjoyed. They kept him sane, they kept him feeling loved, even if not loved for the right reasons. Without such, chances were he would have taken his own life to be with Amela at long last. Only through these numerous lovers and the faint hope Eric will return did Rigor have the will to continue to the next day.

But that hope was running slim. Each day Eric did not appear was another day Rigor questioned whether it was all worth it. Although Marcus consoled him almost every time he was near the break, Rigor understood that Marcus's words can only do so much.

"Perhaps I should truly find a wife after all." Rigor sat on his bed, looking out of the window. He saw the eagle hold close its companion as the mother and father Rosary Eagles watched their third and final child fly. Seemingly cawing in pleasure, the father watched each bird land beside the nest, its babies having enjoyed flight.

But can someone truly replace Amela? Rigor did not think anyone could replace his late wife. No one could fill the gap she left in Rigor's heart, in Eric's thoughts, in the spirits of the Faulkner manor. No one could be like her, with her own special blend of kindness and care with a tinge of joy splashed in between. No one could look into Rigor's eyes and make him feel no regrets with his life. No one.

As for Aria? She was nothing more than one of the luckier women. Although Rigor gave the vast majority of women one night, he had taken a fancy for Aria. Not only was she a musician he was showing patronage to, her beauty was barely enough to satisfy Rigor's tastes.

One of these days he would get bored with Aria and dispose of their illicit affair. Rigor never considered Aria as a possible person to marry. Not only was she not of nobility, she lacked the air of a noble as well. Replacing Alema with Aria was impossible, to say the least.

A knock came at Rigor's door once again, light and distinct in Rigor's ears. She finally came, just as before.

"Come in." Rigor spoke calmly, thinking of what to do. Marcus is correct. I should either stay focused on one maiden, or ditch Aria for my old routine. Although Rigor did "enjoy" his days with Aria, it was best that their relationship was rid of.

Seeing the young maiden enter his room, he reaffirmed his position. If there is a woman that can replace Alema, Aria is not her. If Alema was a chrysanthemum, then Aria was a poppy still in bloom. Rigor was certain that his relationship with Aria was worthless now.

"It's me, Lord Faulkner. I have come for our private performance." Aria entered into the room, speaking sweetly with an alluring air. Her clothes were more revealing than before purposely in specific places. She silently sat besides Rigor, staring in to his eyes with her own blue pair.

Rigor looked at her, a complex expression on his face. His heart felt she wasn't the one, and he knew she wasn't the one. But like all the others before, she was able to make him feel human for several nights, feel admired and cherished. It was always a bit difficult for him to let them go.

"Aria, I think it's time we settle this." Rigor stared into Aria's eyes, speaking with raw masculinity. He tried to decide how to end this arrangement, and chose to settle it outright.

"Is it my voice Lord Faulkner? You can always fix that like before." Aria flirted with Rigor, moving her hand from gracing his hair to his arms and even lower. It looks like he isn't into me as much today. No matter. I'll try this.

Just before her hand had reached too far, Rigor held her hand firmly in place. He was beginning to understand that his greatest flaw truly was his habit of sleeping with these maidens. By doing so, not only was he treating the memory of Alema as worthless, he was also making it easy for others to intrude on his life, potentially causing him problems in the future.

"What is it Lord Faulkner? Have I done something wrong? Is my dress not fitting for you?" Aria seemed ready to cry as she looked at Rigor with watery eyes. Any moment now a tear was ready to descend from her cheek.

"No, you did nothing wrong Aria. It is simply time that we end this relationship." Rigor finally spoke his thoughts, seeing Aria shed a single tear. His heart, however, did not lurch for her words as before.

"But Lord Faulkner, my feelings are true. If it wasn't for me not being of noble birth, I would have been with you long ago. W-w-why are you rejecting me?" Aria shed a few more tears, looking at Rigor with sorrow in her voice.

"I am not rejecting you Aria. I enjoyed our time together. But this relationship cannot go on. I am the head of the Faulkner family, and you are a person I have simply patronage."

"Rumors have spread of our affair. And I'd like to put an end to it. You need not worry; I will stay true to my promise of patronage until the end date. The only difference is these private visits will end."

"Lord Faulkner, when did rumors ever mean anything to you? We both enjoyed this relationship, and wouldn't it be a waste to end it now?" Aria skillfully held her hand against Rigor's face, the other holding his hand. She looked unwilling to end it all just because people were talking.

"Lord Faulkner, let's end these rumors now. I'm willing to be by your side until we die. If you use your title as head of the Faulkner family, you can easily silence all the jealous maidens starting these rumors. Let's do it--" But before she could finish her words, Aria looked at Rigor's emotionless face. He wasn't accepting her argument at all.

How could I be so foolish? Amela, I'm sorry. Rigor understood that Aria was more than a simple singer, she was a weed with thorns. Every one of his interactions was helping Aria grow closer, grow ever near to him. A practical stranger was hoping to become his bride, but for what reason he didn't know. He had to snip the weed at the roots, lest it come back to harm him.

"Enough of this, Aria. I have given my final word. I do not need any more of your private performances. We will resume being patron and singer. Understand?" Rigor gave Aria a meaningful glare as he placed her hand back at her side.

"Lord Faulkner please. I'm sorry for anything I did wrong. Please give me another chance." Aria returned to looking at Rigor with pleading eyes. Rigor showed no signs of yielding to her.

"Leave my chambers, Aria. Unless I need to make you live." His tone serious, Rigor began to show some of his anger. Aria's voice was beginning to feel annoying.

Aria looked at Rigor for a sign of it all being a joke, but she didn't find any in his dark face. She slowly rose up, running out of the bedroom, tears forming two streams from her eyes. Her brown curls flew in the wind behind her, giving hint to her total beauty. Aria didn't lock the door as she ran out of the hallway and down the stairs.

Will she hold it against me? Rigor wasn't sure if Aria was that kind of woman. The kind of woman willing to blackmail him for their time together. From their encounters, she was charming but lacked that personality of Alema. That kindness that erupted in waves. That care that seemed expected but had her personal touch.

Rigor looked out at the setting sun, watching it dip below the horizon. The last time he saw his wife alive was when she meekly told him she was fine. She was laying her body under several blankets, much of her spirit empty from her eyes. The next time he saw her she was laying on the bed, her breathing abnormal and ragged. Her last words were motherly, but told of what was to come.

Love...Eric...for...me. And so her pulse disappeared, her breathing ended. Rigor moved beside the bed, holding her lifeless body in his arms. He called out to her as Rigor held her head, but she didn't reply. Finally Marcus came with a few servants, finding him crying above his wife, the tears without end.

The very next day was her funeral. Rigor wasn't ready to accept that she had passed away, but as the head of Faulkner he had to seem stable, even through the passing of his wife. His parents had died long ago, and now his wife was alongside them in Death's arms. What hurt Rigor now was how distant his son was, how cold his son spoke to him. If Eric died as well, Rigor wasn't sure what he would do.

Eric will come around. Deep down, Rigor felt that his son would one day return to his side. Rigor would be able to pass the helm of the Faulkner family, and watch his son perhaps find someone of his own. Perhaps have children of his own. Rigor couldn't help but smile at the thought of becoming a grandfather.

Rigor corrected his clothing and rose from his bed. I need to call Eric, and soon. If I do not, the house of Faulkner will fall apart. Without a head, the faction that supported the Faulkner family would dwindle and lose its representation in Alberdan politics. If his son did not return, the house of Faulkner would end under Rigor's lead, and Rigor would feel guilt for it all.

Of course, this was not the only reason he wanted Eric to return. Rigor was still Eric's father. He wanted his son to return to the warm youth he once was. Every day was a trial to see his son treat Rigor as undesired. The rift between father and son brought Rigor great pain, pain of seeing the child he had with his beloved treat him as a murderer. He wasn't willing to continue like this.

Rigor sighed as he looked at Alema's old position on the bed. She used to sleep near the window.

I can only try to set things right and explain to Rigor, how his mother, Alema, passed away. He hoped his son would listen, but Rigor wasn't so sure Eric would.