Stone walls.

When Ginger had parted with them this morning, he had felt nothing.

But now he walked these vast and empty hallways - was that chandelier always there?

The soft echoes of his steps seeped through corridors and archways, through the castle's infinite chambers, and returned to him, taunting him to forget.

Reminding him that he was home. That he lived between stone walls.

But those tents. Sticks and leaves that would topple at the slightest wind.

He had seen one make use of human bones.

The echoing seemed louder now- or was he attempting to enrich those sounds - to let them wash away his memory?

Mere hours he had been away.

And these stone walls felt foreign.

And he was glad he was home.

He arrived before a door - or, he would have called this a door yesterday. Now, it seemed a gate larger than life itself. Why was it so thick and heavy?

What was the purpose of those large oval handles?

For what purpose were they carved?

Ginger examined the detail. The intricate brass carvings told that its crafter had a fetish for tortured souls. The likeness of braided hair made its way along the handles and met in the middle upon the head of a screaming woman.

He had heard those screams.

That young girl at the gates.

He heard them even through the impenetrable walls of the antechamber at the inner city gates and the din of soft chuckles. And he heard them now.

He held the woman's face and rapped her head against the girth of the metal door, piercing these halls with harsher echoes. They wanted him to forget.

"Come in" A deep, commanding voice sounded beyond the door, and Ginger obeyed.

He entered a large study. Oak shelves, and rows filled by a sum of tomes too vast to complete in a lifetime, filled every wall.

Only open windows remained uncovered, through which one of the twin stars, Vaz, threw shades of red light.

And behind a large desk, upon which scattered pages and half-empty bottles of ink lay, sat a man who commanded presence. The red light reflected blue eyes and made fire from ginger-colored hair. High Seat Azroth. His father.

"Father, we have guests?" Ginger asked. He did not want to meet a High Seat or a High anything right now. He was sure he would become sick.

He did not even want to meet his own father.

Azroth smiled at the boy - it was a loving smile. That face, hardened and scarred by many stresses and battles, softened when he looked at his boy.

"Yep, the knights" Azroth got up from his seat and made his way around the desk to stand in front of the boy. The red light passing through the window failed to catch him, and now he was only a man.

He was only a father.

Ginger shuddered.

'Knights?' He knew it. He had seen them and heard pockets of their conversation in that waste.

"Of.. inquisition?" Ginger asked. He knew the armor. He had seen their descriptions in books. He had known them and their brutality today.

"Huh? That sucks, you already knew! I wanted to give you a scare" Azroth playfully ruffled Ginger's hair as he crouched to meet his eyes, and blue hues met each other in the light.

Ginger smiled. The castle was the castle. His father was his father. And here was home.

"Hehe, papa, aren't you the one who's scared?" Ginger chuckled. This father of his loved to put on airs.

"By The Eye, what makes you think that? What're those eyes for lad, don't you see these incredible muscles? I'd flatten them easy" Azroth flexed his arm in front of Ginger.

Ginger laughed a lot louder now and Azroth was pleased. As a father, he had noticed Ginger's absent mind as he walked in.

No one would know that he had spent the time since Ginger entered until now trying to come up with a good joke.

Sadly, he was a crap comedian.

"So? Is it Plystil again?" Ginger asked. Somehow, he knew he was wrong

"I don't think so. It's too strange. I don't have a clue why they're here" Azroth frowned

Ginger knew. Or at least he knew some. Why would those imposing knights chase after a boy? Why would they want to kill him?

He should have asked Thatch when he had the chance. Would Thatch even tell him? That boy was too guarded - it would take many circuits about the twin stars, Ginger thought, before that boy could learn to trust a person.

Ginger didn't blame him.

It was only now that Ginger recalled Thatch's last words to him

'If I survive till then'

Ginger felt guilt and hope. He hadn't heard those words then. But even if he had, could he have done anything? He hoped Thatch could survive.

"What's wrong? You look all sullen. Did a bird poop on ya or somethin'? Should I go kill it?" Azroth attempted to break Ginger's thoughts, but was only half successful, no thanks to the man's poor taste in humour.

"Actually, yeah. It did feel like a bird pooped on me papa" Ginger recalled those guards at the gates.

"Huh? What happened?" Azroth raised his brow. This might've been the first time he had seen his child make a face that belonged on grown men. Wasn't that the face he made whenever he thought about that bastard Plystil? It looked so cute on his son.

"Well... if you promise not to be mad, I'll tell you." Ginger said, curling his finger about a stray lock of hair, looking away in shame, admiring Vaz's red light.

'Fuck.' Azroth thought. Was this his son? Or was this an illusion made to enchant his heart? How could he be mad at that face? The boy could have just killed a puppy and Azroth would blame that wretched horror of The Under for getting in his son's way.

"Yeah, yeah whatever, just tell me about the bird that shat on you. I'll find it." Azroth said in a hurry. His heart couldn't take it.

"I went to the markets today. I didn't tell you because Plystil's spies could be in the castle and I didn't want them to find out" Ginger said while looking away, still admiring the glory of Vaz's light.

"Huh, you went to that shithole. Yeah, loads of bird poop there alright" Azroth said, unfazed. The boy was impressively intelligent, so he didn't mind if he broke the rules now and then. He trusted in the boy's decisions.

He would have that old Warrior, Luark discipline the boy more harshly.

Azroth would never admit that he just didn't want to do it himself.

Ginger ignored his father's statement and talked about his experience with the guards.

He wanted them killed.