"Reality is often disappointing. We desire something from a situation, and when that situation arises, we are left with a bitter taste of the truth. However, sometimes we expect the worst-case scenario. Maybe we think a meeting will go terribly, or we won't find what we are looking for, or we'll get stood up on a date, whatever it is, we think it'll go poorly. Then the actual event comes to pass, and all we can do is say: great. We were wrong, and it didn't go that badly, things worked out. That is how I would describe Hal's first meeting with Heinrick."

"So you're who dad got to protect me?" He said while walking around Hal appraisingly. "You seem a little short. Are you sure you'll be enough?" He spoke from behind Hal.

"..." Hal remained silent.

"Alright, height jokes aren't fair. But, I'm just trying to break the ice here." He continued.

"..." Hal’s hush persisted.

"So you won't respond to jokes, and you won't react to me being so direct." He walked around to look Hal in the face. "Are you mute? No helping that, kind of unfortunate, I'd say." He smiled at Hal with a knowing smirk.

"..." Once more, Hal did not respond.

"OH, COME ON." He screamed. "That one was gold. We both know you can talk. Are my jokes that bad?" He asked, alligator tears lining his eyes.

"..." Hal remained silent, not because he wished to end this conversation, but out of shock.

"So tears don't get me through this cold winter. Whatever shall this poor soul do?" He danced about in a way Hal felt was almost idiotic. "I know." He slapped a fist into his other palm. "I'll beg. That gets people through the cold, right?" Ridiculously fast, he was on his knees in front of Hal, his head cast down, and his arms were stretched forwards with cupped hands. "Please, kind sir, spare a word for this weary listener: just one word, just a singular word, perhaps a chuckle even." He said in the most mock imitation of a weary voice Hal had ever heard.

"Huh!?" Hal finally let out a sound to express his shock at the situation.

It started only a few minutes earlier. Hal was in the garden, carefully trying to avoid any of the mansion's inhabitants, especially the head of the house. Hal saw dozens of flowers, plants, and trees, each purposely manicured to accentuate them against the rest. If even half these plants had grown together in the wild, Hal would have had no choice but to call it beautiful. Here it was different. In this garden, the beauty was lost to almost sterile planning. It was too perfect, grossly so. Hal saw none of the marks left by someone who loved their work among the clipped branches and trimmed shrubs. It was the same feeling Hal encountered everywhere in the mansion.

Everyone who worked here, every servant, gardener, and chef, worked the same way. They took no pride in the work, nor did they express satisfaction in doing better than the previous day. They all worked to an exact standard day after day, no more, no less. Without fail, the staff kept every section of the mansion to a standard set from on high. Hal found it suffocating. At least here in the garden, Hal had hoped to see the chaos of nature shine through the exacting work. But he'd only found more of the same. Hedges were trimmed to precise dimensions, trees kept to the same height, and flowers were grown in specific numbers. It wasn't the project of a passionate artist but the tool of a man who saw it as no more than a formality.

"Guess I was the dumb one wanting to relax in a place like this," Hal muttered to himself.

"I know, right?" Someone responded to Hal's muttering from behind a tree. "It's annoying, but the bastards never understood the word relaxation, so I don't argue about it." The individual said while walking around the tree to face Hal.

He was the spitting image of his father. His silver locks dazzlingly reflected the sun, giving him a golden halo in the daylight. His features were handsome, youthful, striking, and filled with mirth and confidence. His smile was a bright white, his mouth filled with brilliant pearly white teeth. The bridge of his nose was ever so slightly concave, with the base being straight. Hal would have thought the silver-eyed man had found the fountain of youth if not for his eyes.

They shared the most distinct feature. It was a single unbelievably striking feature. So much so that Hal doubted anyone would ever mistake them for another. Neither the son nor the father had pupils. But they were still distinct from one another. His father's eyes were pools of molten silver, warm but dangerous. You saw fire in them, heat, passion for something hazardous and fickle. His, however, were different. His eyes looked like disks of frozen quick-silver, suspended in a faintly blue liquid. They were cool, calculating, but filled with the idea of the impossible. His eyes looked dangerous in a way well outside his father. They didn't look to burn you but to lure you in, tempt you with danger you thought was safe.

They were eyes Hal would never forget, even when they were long gone.

That's how this situation started.

"Huh!?" Hal finally let out a sound to express his shock at the situation.

"HE SPEAKS." He said jovially. It was comical watching him dance in place, especially seeing the contrast in the impression given by his eyes and his actions. "Well, you must be Hal, right?" He asked. His tone turned from the comical one to one more suited to his appearance. It wasn't cold, but it matched him in a way Hal couldn't describe. That shift was just enough to drag Hal's mind back from the shock of meeting him here.

"I... I am," Hal stuttered out, still trying to get his head around the situation.

"Good to meet you, name’s Heinrick, but with it being a mouthful and all, feel free to call me Eric." He said cooly, a calm smile on his face, a single hand extended in greeting to Hal.

"Uh-huh," Hal said with suspicion, taking a step away from Eric.

"Well, can’t blame you for that," Eric muttered while letting his hand drop to his side with a sad look. "Anyone who's still all there after meeting him would react like that, I guess." Eric did not mean for Hal to hear his muttering, but his ears picked up the sound regardless. The sad look lasted only this moment, no longer, then it was gone, replaced with a calm smile and a placating look. "Well, Hal, I agree with you about the garden. It's no more relaxing than being at court." He looked around for a moment before continuing. "Actually, I think being at court, and dealing with all those fake smiles, is more relaxing than this garden." He said it in jest, but Hal felt it might be true.

"It's not much better than a night in the wilds." Hal voiced his agreement.

"Oh?" Eric sounded curious. "I'm constantly told that staying out of town at night is deadly if you're alone. Do you travel with someone?" He asked without any malice that Hal could feel.

"Not particularly," Hal replied noncommittal.

"Then you must be pretty tough." Eric seemed to mean it as a genuine compliment. With a tilt of his head, he started walking along the garden path, seemingly asking Hal to follow. "Though I knew that, considering what you did to his office." He seemed to snarl out the reference to his father. "Nice job with that, by the way." He gave Hal a complimentary smile while speaking.

"It wasn't my first choice," Hal replied while taking cautious steps to follow Eric.

"But was it the choice he forced on you?" Eric asked knowingly.

"No," Hal replied darkly. The idea of what could have happened still weighing on his mind.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, blowing an expensive hole in the house is an excellent way to tell him to take a hike with his way of doing things." Eric sounded happy at the idea. "It's always been a fantasy of mine, you know?" He continued with a hint of desiderium, like he'd missed the only opportunity. "Guess you got to it first." He muttered to himself.

"I can't imagine dealing with him regularly," Hal said cordially.

"If we're being honest, neither can I," Eric said with disdain in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Hal asked curiously.

"He's barely around," Eric said flatly. "When he is, it's not exactly like he plays the part of a model father. He's too wrapped up in his projects for that." His tone was relatively light, considering the subject matter.

"Projects?" Hal inquired, baiting for information.

"I just call them that. I don't keep track of what he does, and he doesn't tell me." Eric said offhandedly. "What about you? How's your relationship with your dad?" Eric asked, curious.

"I never met my dad," Hal replied honestly, without a hint of regret in his voice.

"Did he pass on or something?" Eric questioned cautiously.

"Not that I know of," Hal said lightly.

"Abandon you and your mom?" Eric sounded incredulous.

"Heh." Hal chuckled. "More likely, he was driven from town," Hal said in good humor.

"Huh." Eric accepted the response in good nature. "What about your mom? How's your relationship with her?" He continued, a curious light shining in his eyes as he looked back at Hal.

"Dead," Hal said coldly. "She has been for as long as I can remember." He added, evading the next question.

"Sorry about that," Eric said remorsefully. "Then who raised you?" Eric asked, trying to turn the mood back around. "You aren't going to tell me wolves raised you, are you?" He asked jokingly.

This joke got another chuckle out of Hal before he responded. "No, nothing like that," Hal replied kindly. "An Old Man with a heart bigger than the sky, raised me and a lot of others," Hal said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"What happened there?" Eric questioned, catching Hal's sad tone.

"Keeping me with him became too dangerous for the other kids. So he prepared me for a life alone and sent me on my way." Hal replied honestly. "Maybe I'll go back and thank him for everything he did for me one day. When I'm strong enough that it won’t matter what others think." Hal said, thinking of a far-off future.

"Sounds like an admirable goal," Eric said warmly.

"What about you?" Hal asked. "You don't seem to get along with your dad, but what about your mom?" He elaborated.

"I'd rather not talk about mom. It's a little too complicated." Eric redirected the question with practiced ease. "As for my relationship with dad, well, that's as you can guess. Never met anyone who didn't see me and think of him." He said flatly. "So-called friends of mine are really only in it to stay on his good side." He continued with a light tone despite the topic.

"I see." Hal acknowledged Eric's words.

"Well," Eric stopped in the shadow of a tree and turned to Hal. "What about you? What do you think when you look at me?" He asked, his features obscured from Hal's eyes.

Hal's first reaction was to reply with his initial impression, one of the apprehensions born from meeting his father. But, he felt something in the air asking him to think further, to listen for answers beyond the flesh. So he did.

Hal first turned to his brother with only two other sources to ask.

>What do you smell Tinct? >Hmm?Sunshine in the winter, oiled metal, simmering meat, and pressed flowers. >Not as helpful as I was hoping, but thanks anyway.< Hal replied, hoping Instinct could still hear him.

With Instinct's opinion in place, Hal turned his mind to the shadows to see what they thought of Eric. Like any other time, the words were chaotic, near indiscernible without paying complete attention to what they said. But it was more than usual, the shadows having so much to say about Eric that understanding any of it was difficult.

"Found." "Trusted." "A pinpoint of collapse." "Friend." "The skeptic of the unknown." "Deadman walking." "Throne breaker." "Enemy." "An army with no name." "Forgotten." "Irony." "Enemy." "Trusted." "Right hand of the mighty." "Trusted." "Trusted." "Blessed soul among men." "Cataclysm." "Guardian." "Peacemaker." "Enemy." "Flame tied in the dark." "Friend." "Flesh wizard." "Enemy." "He who makes dreams reality." "Trusted." "He who lives in death." "He who is not what he will be." "Enforcer." "Warmonger." "Enemy." "Beast soul." "Tragedy." "Burning passion born from age." "Ending and beginning." "Catalyst of change." "A fortune bound to another." "Tragedy." "Trusted." "Lost." "Enemy." "Friend." "Trusted." "Mighty mind of a creator." "A cold spark of invention." "Soul Reforged." "Enemy." "Blinding light." "Bishop to a false god." "Fate ender." "Trusted." "Darkest shadow." "Oath-keeper." "A cause with no army." "He who follows the creature." "Friend." "Enemy." "Friend." "Light lost to time." "Faithful." "Trusted." "Remember." "Enemy." "Trusted." "Leading mind of innovation." "The slayer of the mighty." "Tragic fate." "Friend." "Trusted." "Friend." "Child of fate born to live, to die." "Bringer of war." "Defiled." "Trusted." "Enemy." "Fated slayer." "Stolen." "Tragic life." "Mage-son."

It was all so jumbled that Hal barely understood anything the shadows tried to whisper, like a million different voices added to the already numerous ones of the dark. It was painful for Hal to listen to them like they each needed to cry out an opinion loud enough to drown out the rest. But, a few key words stood out, repeated by many voices in the crowd. "Trusted." "Tragedy." "Friend." "Enemy." So many voices repeated these four in the mix that Hal had no choice but to hear them eventually. Even in that cacophony of noise.

>WELL, THAT WAS A "Waste of time."< Hal tried to think to himself.

"Ouch, never been called a waste of time like that," Eric said, discomfort evident in his voice.

"Huh?" Hal asked before realizing what he'd done. "Oh, that wasn't about you, sorry," Hal said genuinely. Ignoring the sound of pained confusion Eric made, Hal chose to say what he thought after this short interaction. "Honestly, I don't know what to think of you. If Birnerd hadn't chased me down so many times, I wouldn't even be here. At times, I think of this as a means to an end; keeping you alive and safe is just the easiest at the moment. Yes, I see your father when I look at you. But I also feel a difference in the air around you. So at the moment, the only answer I can give is that I don't think of you because I don't know you. I only understand this moment and who you're related to. " Hal said, trying to convey himself the best he could.

With a shift in the trees, Hal saw Eric's face. It was a mix of emotions. Confusion, hurt, understanding, acceptance, and most of all— hope.

"Well, it's not what I'd like. But I'd say it's a good start. Once again, feel free to call me Eric. If you'll let me call you Hal, that is." He stuck his hand out as he had at the start, offering it to Hal.

"Go right ahead," Hal replied. Hal moved his hand past Eric's extended appendage and grabbed his arm just below the elbow. Hal didn't know its significance, but The Old Man had done it, so Hal would as well. "Eric," Hal said, letting his smile show from beneath his hood while giving Eric's arm a firm shake.

The shock on Eric's face was two-fold. One from Hal, grabbing his arm, and the other from the look of Hal's sharp teeth. In only an instant, the shock was gone, replaced with a bright smile.

"Hal," He replied while grabbing Hal's arm in much the same manner.