Homeward bound

Location: Solvaris Continent (Human empires)

_____

Rowan sat at his desk, fingers tracing the smooth edges of the wooden music box he had picked up on his last stop. It was a delicate thing, carved with intricate designs of stars and moons, and when opened, it played a soft, melodic tune. Lilia would love it. The thought of his niece's bright eyes and delighted laughter brought a small smile to his lips.

But as the ship rocked gently beneath him, his smile faded. He leaned back, exhaling slowly. Going home was always a complicated thing. His mother and sister were there—that alone made it worth it. Yet, the moment he stepped into the palace, it would be like walking into a den of restless lions, each brother watching, calculating, waiting for an opportunity to gain favor. And his father… Rowan could already hear the inevitable conversation about duty, responsibility, and marriage.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, setting the music box down.

The door swung open, and Cassian stepped inside, his expression calm but purposeful. "The empire's borders are in sight," he announced. "We should be docking within the hour."

Rowan gave a slow nod, rolling his shoulders as he stood. "Well, no point delaying the inevitable."

Cassian smirked slightly. "You almost sound excited."

"Excited isn't the word I'd use," Rowan muttered, grabbing his coat. "Let's just get this over with."

Cassian chuckled but said nothing more as Rowan followed him out. The salty sea breeze greeted him the moment they stepped onto the deck, the towering cliffs of Solmara's coastline visible in the distance. Home.

For better or worse.

#

As Rowan's ships docked at the bustling harbor, the crew wasted no time unloading the cargo—barrels of spices, bolts of fine cloth, and rare trinkets from distant lands. But it wasn't just the goods that drew attention.

The moment Rowan stepped onto the docks, the crowd erupted into life. Fishermen, merchants, dockworkers—people from all walks of life paused in their work to greet him.

"Prince Rowan!" a woman called, waving enthusiastically as she balanced a basket of fresh fish on her hip.

"Welcome home, Your Highness!" a young boy shouted, darting between crates to get a better look.

Rowan smiled, offering a nod here, a wave there, even pausing to ruffle the hair of a grinning child who ran up to him. These were his people, the ones he preferred over the stiff-necked nobility of the palace. They were simple, honest folk who didn't care for titles or power struggles, only for the man who had spent years sailing their coasts, trading fairly, and ensuring their prosperity.

A gruff old sailor clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "About time you came back, lad. The docks aren't the same without you."

Rowan chuckled. "I doubt that, old man. Business still thriving?"

"As long as you keep bringing in those foreign spices, aye."

Cassian cleared his throat beside him, ever the reminder of time.

"Right," Rowan muttered. "I need to be off."

The commoners parted as he strode toward the waiting carriage, though they lingered long enough to watch him go. Some called out last-minute well-wishes, others simply bowed their heads in respect.

As soon as he settled into the carriage, the door swung shut, and the horses surged forward, pulling him away from the docks and toward the palace.

As the carriage rolled away from the docks, Rowan pulled aside the curtain, letting his gaze wander over the sights of Solmara. The capital city, Solhaven, was as lively as ever.

The streets were lined with tall stone buildings, their balconies draped with banners bearing the empire's sigil—a golden sun cresting over an open sea. Market vendors called out to passing customers, boasting of fresh produce, exotic silks, and handcrafted jewelry. Children wove through the crowds, their laughter ringing through the air as they played between stalls.

Despite its grandeur, Solhaven was not a city built merely for nobility. It thrived as a hub of trade, its prosperity fueled by merchants and craftsmen as much as by the wealth of the royal family. At every turn, Rowan saw the fruit of his own efforts—ships unloading foreign goods, dockworkers receiving fair wages, even small businesses flourishing thanks to the connections he had secured beyond their borders.

As they moved further into the heart of the city, the streets widened, and the air grew heavier with the scent of incense and blooming gardens. The towering walls of the palace district loomed ahead, marking the boundary between commoners and nobility. Here, the noise of the market quieted, replaced by the disciplined march of knights patrolling the roads.

Beyond the walls, past elegant estates and sprawling courtyards, the royal palace stood in all its splendor. Built atop a gentle rise, its marble towers gleamed under the midday sun, reflecting light like the waves of the ocean it overlooked. Grand staircases led up to the main hall, where banners of blue and gold fluttered in the breeze.

Rowan let the curtain fall back into place.

He had spent years sailing across distant lands, exploring new opportunities and forging connections beyond the empire's borders. And yet, no matter how far he went, this place—the wealth, the titles, the politics—would always pull him back.

He exhaled slowly.

"Nearly there," Cassian murmured, glancing out the window.

"Try to look happy about it," Julian added with a smirk.

Rowan huffed, shaking his head. "I'd rather be anywhere else."

Still, he straightened his posture as the carriage rolled past the palace gates. He was home. Whether he liked it or not.

As the carriage came to a stop before the palace entrance, a group of attendants and guards were already assembled, waiting to receive him. The palace doors stood wide open, the polished marble floors gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Rowan stepped out, smoothing the sleeves of his coat as his boots met the stone pavement. His presence did not go unnoticed—several noblewomen and ministers lingering nearby turned their heads, whispering among themselves.

"The Fourth Prince has returned."

"Look at him, always dressed so plainly for a royal."

"I heard he just came back from trading with the eastern merchants. What kind of prince concerns himself with such things?"

Rowan ignored them. He wasn't here to impress them.

A young steward approached with a respectful bow. "Your Highness, the Emperor has been informed of your arrival. He has summoned you to the main hall."

Rowan barely contained a sigh. Of course he has.

His father wasted no time.

Cassian and Julian exchanged glances behind him, both clearly unenthused about the immediate summons. But Rowan merely gave a nod.

"Very well. Let's not keep him waiting."

With that, he made his way into the palace, the cool interior offering a stark contrast to the warm air outside.

The halls of the palace were grand as ever, adorned with towering columns, exquisite tapestries, and the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Despite how long he had been away, nothing had changed. The same whispers, the same wary gazes, the same tension that always seemed to hum beneath the surface.

As he strode toward the main hall, a small voice suddenly called out to him.

"Uncle Rowan!"

He turned just in time to catch a little figure barreling toward him. A bright smile tugged at his lips as he knelt down, opening his arms just in time for Lilia Solmere to throw herself into them.

He lifted her easily, chuckling as she giggled. "There's my favorite girl. I was hoping I'd see you before facing your grandfather."

Lilia beamed at him, her dark curls bouncing as she nodded. "I knew you'd come for my birthday! You promised."

"And I always keep my promises," Rowan said, gently tapping her nose.

She grinned. "I missed you! Mama says you always run away on your ships."

Rowan laughed. "I don't run away, little one. I just like to travel."

Lilia pouted but before she could argue further, a sharp voice interrupted them.

"Lilia, that's enough. You shouldn't be throwing yourself at people in the halls."

Rowan's amusement dimmed slightly as he glanced up. Standing a few feet away was his eldest brother, Aldric Solmere.

The Crown Prince.

Tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, Aldric regarded Rowan with his usual cold, unreadable gaze. "Father is waiting."

The warmth of the moment faded, but Rowan simply smiled at his niece before setting her down gently. "I'll see you soon, alright? I have something special for you later."

Lilia nodded excitedly, but as she stepped back, she clutched his sleeve for a moment, her expression hesitant. "Be careful."

Rowan ruffled her hair before finally rising. "Always."

With that, he turned to Aldric, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. "Let's not keep Father waiting, then."

Side by side, the two brothers walked toward the main hall, the weight of their unspoken history pressing between them.