Chapter 3: The First Faces
Did it work?
A thought surfaced from deep within him.
There was no answer.
He tried to remember.
The plan.
The fight.
The choices he had made.
But the memories would not stay still.
They drifted whenever he tried to remember them. Like fragments scattered across a dark ocean. Faces appeared and vanished. Even his own thoughts seemed strangely difficult to hold.
My name... What was it?
But the thought slipped away before he could grasp it.
His mind was becoming quieter.
The memories were fading, not disappearing completely but sinking somewhere beyond his reach. Like something buried beneath deep water.
He tried to hold onto them but he couldn’t.
For the first time in many years, there was nothing to understand, nothing to calculate and nothing to control.
Only warmth. Only darkness.
And then even the darkness began to fade slowly.
The world began with a dark and warm sensation.
For a long time, there were no thoughts only a steady and deep thumping sound that shook everything around, a safe and heavy rhythm that made him feel perfectly still in the quiet.
Then, the warmth broke. The dark space around him tightened without warning. His tiny body squeezed as he felt something pushing him out and a chilling cold brushed against his bare skin.
Air rushed into his nose and chest for the very first time. It felt raw and burning as his throat gripped tight. Instead of a cry, a small whimper escaped his mouth cutting through the silence of the room.
"He’s breathing. Vera, look at him. He’s perfectly healthy."
Large and rough hands wrapped around him, lifting him gently and carefully. The voice was deep and loud. It made his small head ring.
He kicked his legs and tried to wave his arms as he was trying to find back the dark and quiet space he had lost.
"Let me see him, Marcus. Please."
A softer and tired voice spoke next. This voice felt familiar him as he forced his eyes to open but he could not see clearly yet.
Everything around him was a blur of bright lights that blocked out his visions. He twisted his body, fussing out against the cold morning air.
Around the grand bed, three housemaids moved quickly through the dim room. They worked in silence as they cleaned the room.
Marcus looked over his shoulder at the servants. "Leave the rest for later," he ordered quietly. "Wait outside in the corridor. My lady needs to rest."
The maids quickly bowed their head as they quietly went out of the room shutting the doors.
After the maids went out, he was passed into a new set of arms.
The moment his body pressed against the woman’s warm skin his crying stopped. A deep sense of safety washed over him as he felt safe.
"Welcome to the world," the woman said quietly. Her lips breathed against his forehead. "My sweet, beautiful boy."
The baby blinked, his blurry eyes tracking her dark hair against the light. His body felt heavy and completely drained. Eventually his eyelids dropped and he fell into a deep sleep against his mother’s chest.
Marcus leaned over the bed, confused. He stared down at his silent baby looking genuinely confused. "Wait. Is that it? He went to sleep just like that? No crying?"
Vera let out an exhausted chuckle as she adjusted her hold on the sleeping baby. "He’s tired, Marcus. Moving into a new world is hard work."
"Yes, but Roland cried for an hour straight when he was born and only slept when he became tired. He is entirely too relaxed." Marcus muttered, an amused smile broke through his stern face.
"Maybe he just inherits my good sense," Vera murmured softly, her fingers gently smoothing down the baby’s head. "Let him sleep."
A few hours later, the baby woke up because his skin felt tight and sticky, letting out a small and uncomfortable groan. Almost instantly, his mother approached to him, wearing a clean linen apron. She stood up to his side while carrying a basin filled with warm water.
Marcus quietly walked in right behind her. He carried a stack of clean and soft towels to wrap the baby up after washing.
Vera carefully sat up in the bed as she gently lowered the baby into the warm water. The moment the heat hit his skin his body curled up. She used a soft cloth to gently wash away the dried birth fluids that still lingered in the small creases of his neck and arms.
The baby relaxed his body and let out a soft and satisfied hum. His eyes tracking the steam as it rose toward the ceiling.
Every time he took a breath a small invisible thread of energy slipped into his mouth as his father checked upon him. It traveled down his throat and settled deep in to his belly leaving a pleasant feeling behind. He picked up one of the towels and held it near the fireplace so it would be warm and cozy for wrapping the baby.
"He cleans up well," Marcus said as his voice filled the room. "Look at his back. He has a strong spine. He’s going to be tall."
"Let him finish his bath first, Marcus. You can start turning him into a warrior after he ages a bit." Vera chuckled.
Once the washing was done, she lifted him out of the water and handed him to his father. Marcus wrapped him tightly in the warmed towel until only his head was sticking out.
The heat from the towel and the natural warmth of Marcus’s body made the baby let out a long sigh of satisfaction. Now the baby was clean and properly resting. Marcus sat down on a low wooden stool near the bed.
"We need to give him his name today, Marcus," Vera said softly as she rested her head back against the pillows. "The family logs needs to be updated."
Marcus looked down at the baby’s face. As the Viscount of House Hayes, Marcus was expected to choose a name befitting the family’s standing. But he had never cared much for such traditions.
"I’ve been thinking about it all morning," Marcus murmured, his thumb lightly brushing the baby’s soft cheek. He paused, thinking about what name would be good for his son.
"What about Leon?" Marcus asked softly. "Leon Hayes."
Vera repeated the name quietly. "Leon. It’s a good name. It sounds light, but it has some weight underneath it. It suits him."
In his father’s arms, now Leon let out a small, soft yawn.
He didn’t understand the words "Leon" or "Hayes." . He just knew that the tight and warm towel felt perfect and the two safest presences in his new world were smiling down at him.
His eyes closed slowly and again he sank back into a deep, peaceful sleep.
It was already afternoon as the morning lights had already gone replaced with bright sunlight. Leon had already woken up.
After a while, the door opened. Leon stirred, trying to see where the sound came from.
Two figures came in, an unknown pair to Leon. One was quick and impatient. She was the Young Miss of the House Hayes, Iris Hayes. She was ten years old now.
"Finally," Iris muttered. "I thought the training would never end."
Behind her came Roland. He moved with slow and heavy pace. He looked mature unlike the child who came first running without any care. He was the eldest child of House Hayes. He was twenty years old now and was already named as next successor for House Hayes.
"You were the one always wanting to train with me so you should also follow my training rules."
"But you said I couldn’t meet him until I was done and couldn’t you train less or let me skip today’s session so I could meet my baby brother early?"
Roland sighed, clearly annoyed with his sister’s constant nagging and said nothing. He gave up, having no intent to move this conversation forward.
Iris reached the crib first and peered over. Her wide brown eyes blinking down at Leon.
"Leon," she whispered as her voice sounded in the room. Leon’s eyes followed the motion of her lips. He did not know the word ’Leon’ but he felt like it was a nice sound.
"He’s awake," said Roland from somewhere behind her.
He did not lean over the railing. He stood a full step back, arms crossed against his chest as his frame cast a shadow against the windows light.
Iris tried to pick Leon up from the cradle but Roland’s strict voice sounded from behind.
"Don’t pick him up," Roland said, "You shouldn’t handle our brother that roughly. He is just a baby now."
Iris pouted as she did not look up. "Everyone said that to me, not to play with my brother but didn’t tell me why."
"First off all, don’t treat him like a plaything. He is your brother, protect him instead," Roland said. "And for clarification you will not have a brother anymore, that’s all."
Roland’s harsh words surprised her. She didn’t reply back this time as she knew Roland was serious. Instead she looked at her brother little closely.
"He doesn’t look like either of our parents." she finally said.
Roland exhaled through his nose and let out a heavy breath. He answered regardless, which was the difference between tired and not wanting to.
"He is just born, Iris and babies look mostly same," Roland said. "Give him a few years."
Iris poked Leon’s round cheek. "He likes me. Look, he’s not crying."
Roland also looked at Leon carefully. He was surprised the Leon didn’t cry or react that much to Iris’s poking and their presence. His brother was just simply staring at them.
By the time the sun had dropped, someone knocked the door slowly.
Roland gaze went towards the door. "Come in," he said as he was checking the woods gathered would be enough or not.
A maid opened the door as she stepped near the entrance. She was the personal maid of Roland, Clara. "My lord, Young Miss, The Viscountess has called you two for dinner." she said as she waited for their response.
"Tell mother that we will come in a while." he replied as he finished checking the woods.
Clara bowed as she shut the door lightly and went towards the family dining room.
"We should also go, now. Otherwise mother will scold me again." Iris said to Roland while playing with Leon with her fingers.
"Then why do you keep doing things that gets you scolding?" Roland replied. His dark eyes gazed upon the cradle before he finally guided Iris out by grabbing her collar and shutting the heavy door behind them with a dull click.
As the night came, the room temperature shifted. He felt the cold of night. He was kept a bit away from the fireplace as he was adjusted for afternoon’s heat.
Leon felt the warmth in his stomach go suddenly. He let out a little grunt and tried to squeeze his hands together beneath the blanket.
Then the door opened again and the familiar heat rushed back in. Marcus walked inside the room with slow and steady steps.
He stopped by the crib and crouched down as his large hands pressing flat against Leon’s stomach. The man’s essence immediately forced back the cold pressure of the room.
Leon let out a long and slow breath. He watched the shadowy shape of his father’s face until his eye lids grew too heavy to keep open and slept again.