A Hero's Welcome

As it turns out, Barion did in fact still own a warehouse. It was common for particularly wealthy traders to have so much stock that they needed somewhere secure to keep it all. Hiring scribes to keep inventory also provided an excellent way to keep up to date on the latest information within each settlement. However, with the city's surplus of food dwindling as a result of farmland being abandoned, much of Barion's hard-earned stock had been appropriated and redistributed by the city. Only particularly luxurious and esoteric goods remained inside of the small warehouse.

"All my salt… my oil… my Khazmani silk…" Barion lamented, "Even my wine! For- for what reason did they have to take the wine!? You don't need wine to keep people alive!"

"I imagine quite a few people would contest that. Wine is probably the only thing still holding most of these lost souls together." Manyu replied, "I'm impressed, honestly. You called yourself a trader when we met last month, but I didn't expect to see that you were taking it seriously."

"Not much of a trader now, am I? May as well turn my badge in to the guild…"

"Come on, now, you two!" Dismounting from the wagon, Dorma was quick to break their conversation up, "We have a king to be meeting with."

"This will be entertaining…" Manyu crossed his arms, "I do hope you've got an exceptional excuse ready for when His Majesty asks who I am."

"I'm sure we'll work something out." Barion waved off.

With the wagon and coach safely stored away, the five of them began to ascend the high roads of Gria's upper district, passing through the grand central plaza towards the guarded doors of the castle.

"Lady Dorma!" Recognising her instantly, one such guard straightened his posture and placed a hand to his chest, "His Majesty has already been informed of your arrival! Alongside Queen Larion, Lady Yula and Sir Lotte, he awaits you in the grand hall!"

"Much appreciated." The sorceress smiled, "Please make sure accommodation is arranged for my comrades here. I imagine we'll be retiring within the next hour or so."

"Right away, my lady!"

As the young guardsmen ran into the castle, Pale had a disappointed expression on her face.

"He just did whatever you told him to do…"

"Well, naturally." Dorma replied, "I am a member of the council, after all."

"He should be hunting, instead of guarding a castle in the middle of some grand city." The girl continued, "What good does standing around with a weapon do?"

"I'm sure it's quite the culture shock. But with that said, you don't appear particularly bothered by the scope of Gria, if you don't mind me saying."

"It's all quite impressive. But…" Pale looked over to the gargantuan walls encircling the city, "...it feels so far away from nature. You can't even see the grasslands over those walls."

"A small price to pay for safety."

"Safety… would they really stop a Demon?"

"Few things can, I'm afraid." Dorma sighed, "Come. We shouldn't keep His Majesty--or Her Majesty, waiting. Especially not you, Barion."

"Larion, huh…" The man seemed somewhat melancholy all of a sudden, "A daughter… and not just a child, but a full-grown woman with centuries behind her. It feels a little strange."

Barion hadn't seen the inside of the castle since his journey 500 years ago, and even then he and his companions were only allowed to enter on special occasions. Walking down the gilded halls brought forth memories of a more passionate time, when his young heart was aflame with hopes and dreams. The grand hall was close to the castle' entrance by design--it was intended to receive guests, after all, but the giant chamber was regretfully quite empty when they arrived, peppered with a few wandering souls poring over documents and sheets of parchment.

"In regards to the mining expeditions--Her Majesty's sceptre is-" Lotte, who was preoccupied giving a report near the table in the centre of the room, was enlightened to the sounds of many footsteps entering the hall, "...Goodness. Is that-"

"My apologies for bringing your report to a short close, Sir Lotte." King Granda spoke, turning his head to the entrance, "-But evidently, a more pressing matter has gripped my attention."

"Lady Dorma…" Larion, who redirected her gaze with an almost reluctant movement, scanned the group of five who had entered the hall, "And, that man… well, there are two of them, but…"

A silence lingered in the air. It seemed that, for a moment, nobody dared to speak up.

"Barion." Dorma called, "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Don't they already know who I am…?"

"How arrogant." Manyu commented.

"Again, that's one hell of a joke coming from you."

As they bickered, Granda walked forward to meet them face-to-face. Standing to attention all of a sudden, Barion realised that he had never actually met the current ruler of Gria before. In fact, the last time he had ever spoken to a monarch of any kind was well over 500 years ago. Granda was a just ruler--one worthy of respect. As the two of them locked eyes, a moment of contemplation proceeded, before the king of humankind lowered his head in a dignified bow.

"Sir Barion." He greeted, "It is an honour to meet you. Please forgive me for offering only a meagre bow, but my physique is not quite what it once was."

"T-There's no need for that, your majesty…" Barion stammered, holding out a hand, "A king shouldn't be bowing to someone like me…"

"On the contrary, I regret there is not more I can offer you in welcome." Granda replied, raising his head, "After all, were it not for your efforts, Tor would not exist as it does today."

"-And if we don't start fighting back, it's likely all of that effort will have been for nothing."

"Getting straight down to brass tacks, I see. Your attitude is more than appropriate." He followed, stroking his beard, "That Dorma was able to retrieve your elusive self is a victory that will surely turn the tides of this war."

"Pure strength might be enough to win, but it isn't enough to keep everyone safe." Barion warned.

"That is precisely why your efforts will not go unaided. It has been passed down through generations that the legendary Hero is the one chosen to liberate this world, but a man needn't fight alone. Rest assured that the full might of Tor will be levied in support of your cause."

As Barion's gaze vanished over the king's shoulder to where Larion stood timidly next to the table, Granda noticed his wavering attention and closed his eyes thoughtfully.

"A war cannot be won on willpower alone." He proclaimed, "Your journey here has no doubt been both treacherous and exhausting, and this is no hour to be discussing strategy. Please, help yourselves to the castle's finest accommodations and prepare your weary bodies for the trials to come."

Just like that day 500 years ago, Barion had been saddled with the duty of saving the world. But instead of overcoming a tireless horde of Demons, he would strive to bring the cycle to a close. As the group dispersed and began making their introductions, Barion didn't shy away as the Elven Queen marched up to him with a complicated expression.

"...So we finally meet." She greeted, "Barion."

"Larion…" He spoke her name with apprehension in his voice, "...You're the spitting image of your mother. Minus the hair and ears, obviously. I thought the Queen of Elves was supposed to wear a crown?"

"That may be the case, but I did not wish to hide my heritage any longer." She answered, "My entire life, I have hidden myself away behind a mask of silver. The crown represents our… dehumanisation, I suppose would be the common word for it--a monarch's devotion to becoming singular tools of the state, and an oath to never place our own lives above those of the Elven people. But… I used it as a facade to hide my supposed inferiority."

"I see…" Barion lowered his head, "I'm sorry. It's my fault that you were forced to make that decision."

"Is it your fault, or is the fault of my people for placing purity above all else?" She wondered aloud, "What I wish to say is that… I never blamed you for playing a part in who I am."

"At least let me apologise for not dropping by to see how you were doing."

"...Do you resent me?"

"No." He replied quickly, "I could never resent… my own daughter."

The two of them had met one-another for the very first time on that day. The term 'daughter' implied a connection that ran far deeper than mere blood ties, and so the word left Barion's mouth apprehensively, as if he was afraid of offending her. At the very least, even if Larion was his daughter, he certainly didn't feel like her father.

"I always wondered what type of man you would be…" She replied, "Mother always spoke so highly of you, and she wasn't the type to be easily charmed."

"She was cold on the outside, but the love she had for Aelf'ahlnohma was more genuine than any other I'd ever seen. I suppose that's how all rulers have to be. But…." He paused, "I didn't think we were running that kind of risk. I was quite the irresponsible young man back then--I'm sure Dorma's told you all about that."

"I understand that your duties called you elsewhere." Larion replied, "With that said… I would have liked to see the two of you standing side-by-side at some point following the defeat of the Demon King."

"I'm not going to act as if there's some greater reason for why I didn't want to see you." Barion confessed, "To tell the truth, I was afraid of us meeting. I didn't want to admit that I'd saddled someone with a responsibility that I couldn't be there to support. Even if you don't resent me for that, it feels like… like I've committed a great sin, that I can't call you my own daughter with any conviction even if it's the complete truth."

"Hm…" Closing her eyes, a faint smile appeared on Larion's face, "From what Lady Dorma has told me, I hadn't expected you to be so mature."

"Even fools like me have to grow up one day."

"For me, as well… calling you 'father' feels…"

"That doesn't matter to me. The fact that you're doing well for yourself is enough." He replied, "Even if it means nothing… I'm proud of the person you've become. And I'm sure your mother would say the exact same thing. I only wish I could have taken responsibility and been there for you, but… I wasn't strong enough to do that."

"Mm…"

As a chaotic torrent of discussion raged around them, they shared a moment of silence.

"Larion is…" Barion closed his eyes, "...Well, it's a strange name. I wouldn't have chosen it."

"Aren't you flattered to have a child named after you?"

"That woman… she must have really thought the world of me." He reminisced, "Makes me feel even worse about leaving you two."

"Din has been quite critical of your absence."

"Din?" Barion blinked, "O-Oh, right… I forgot she'd moved up in the world. Is she here?"

"Running errands at the moment, but I'm certain she will return shortly."

"Dorma tells me you two are…" He hesitated, "Well--it's your business, but I'm not against it, if my approval means anything to you. I was never interested in grandchildren anyway."

"Lady Dorma told you that?" The Queen seemed bewildered.

"Just be responsible, is all I'm saying. Don't break anything--and I'm not just talking about beds. Happens easier than you might think."

"I-Is that any way to speak to the Queen of Elvenkind!?"

"Consider it my one and only piece of fatherly advice." He gave a thumbs-up.