Mantrin Imperial Guard - 005 Ethos of Solbrecht

Chapter 11: Farewells and Goodbyes

Jirro, Imaala and Lyreht

"If you pull something in front of my kids, I will skin you alive."

It had been two days since his first meeting with Lyreht. Two days of confirming that he was indeed alive and not doing well. Two days to let his children adjust to the fact that they had a grandfather from his side. Two days to prepare them and Imaala for having another member of the family live with them.

In the meantime, Jirro had pulled some strings, done everything in his power to arrange for treatment of Lyreht's pethra unirh on short notice. He did not even object to the projected cost of the treatment and neither did Imaala. It was, as he promised, Lyreht's job to make up for it. If not in a monetary manner, then by doing what he should have done from the start. To be a father, or in this case, a grandfather to their children.

If someone had told him beforehand that the first meeting with his father since his orphaning, would take that same man to his doorstep, to be invited inside his own home, he would've called them insane. It had taken Imaala some effort to convince him to come up with at least the level of understanding and restraint to not tear him apart at first sight. But it was as if Lyreht's sharing of his experiences during the many solar cycles since Rryske's death had loosened something. Broken down a few barriers that had been erected since the last time they saw each other.

Even when using his deep emerald glare to add additional weight to his statement, his father was unfazed by the threat his son was more than capable of carrying out with his bare hands. In fact, he gave him a sheepish smile before responding, not even averting his glazed blue green eyes.

"You even sound like her, you know that? Rryske loved to threaten."

They had talked about his mother a lot. So much in fact that Jirro grew tired of it. It was as if everything around him reminded Lyreht of the time when Rryske was still alive. An obvious sign of unresolved bereavement, of which the resulting stress only worsened his condition. Sighing at it for the umpteenth time, Jirro shook his head, toe claws scratching over the rock pieces under his feet as he turned to unlock the door of his home using his wristcom.

"Good, then you also know what I'm capable of."

The heavy wooden front door with its engraved surface unlocked with a soft chirp of the electronic lock, swinging open about halfway after he gave it a gentle push. Stepping aside to let Lyreht pass, his father hesitated, taking a breath before trudging the last few steps to the doorway, the tip of his tail dragging over the path of flat gray rocks leading up to it. The few belongings he brought with him from wherever he came from he carried with him in a large beige backpack made of a canvas-like material.

Following him inside, Jirro laid eyes through the window that formed most of the wall on that side of the house, on Imaala and the children enjoying the warm weather outside in the backyard, and in the water of the lake bordering it. Seated on one of the cushioned lounge chairs sculpted into the perfect shape to accommodate her body, Imaala, alert as always, looked over her shoulder to see who entered. She wore poetyo, in contrast to his and Lyreht's T-shirts and shorts, in the common tan variety, both the top and bottom part.

Pushing herself up on her legs, she entered the house through the open glass sliding door, meeting Lyreht in the middle of the large open space that was their living room, right next to the conversation pit. Touching beaks, she greeted him before stepping back to give him a quick study.

Even from a distance Jirro could tell that his father wasn't well. The way his ears followed his shoulders into hanging down, even after he took off his backpack. How he couldn't keep his tail from dragging over the floor as he walked. The sweat that formed big wet stains on his T-shirt and his being out of breath after small amounts of light exercise.