The first night Galahad spent alone in the city was colder than he expected.
When the sun disappeared behind the tall buildings and the crowds slowly faded from the streets, the warmth and noise of the marketplace vanished with them. The stone roads that had once felt busy and alive became quiet and empty as merchants packed their stalls and returned to their homes.
Galahad remained where he had been left.
At first, he believed Clara would come back for him. He watched every person who walked past, hoping to see the familiar figure of the maid who had raised him since birth.
But the night grew darker, and she never returned.
Eventually, the hunger in his stomach forced him to move. With slow and uncertain steps, the small boy began walking through the unfamiliar streets, looking for something that might lead him home.
The city felt enormous.
Tall stone buildings stretched above him while narrow roads twisted through districts he had never seen before. Lanterns lit the streets in patches of dim orange light, but most of the roads were already empty.
Galahad had rarely been allowed to leave the Aldine estate, and the few times he had gone outside, he had been surrounded by servants and guards.
Now he stood alone in a world he did not understand.
For hours, he wandered the streets, searching for something that looked familiar, but every road seemed the same. When exhaustion finally overcame him, he curled up beside the wall of a closed shop and fell asleep on the cold stone ground.
The next morning, the sound of merchants opening their stalls woke him.
His stomach ached with hunger.
At first, he tried asking people for help, but most of them simply ignored him. A few looked down at the dirty one-armed child with brief curiosity before continuing on their way.
Eventually, he approached a bread stall and quietly asked if he could have something to eat.
The merchant stared at him for a moment before sighing and tossing him a small piece of stale bread.
"Take it and go," the man muttered.
Galahad nodded quickly before running away with the bread clutched tightly in his hand.
It was the first food he had eaten since the day before.
From that moment on, the marketplace became his only source of survival.
Each morning, he would walk from stall to stall asking for scraps. Some merchants ignored him entirely, but a few would occasionally toss him leftover food or small pieces of bread.
It was never much.
But it was enough to keep him alive.
Every day after begging for food, Galahad continued searching for the way back home.
He wandered through the city for hours, hoping to recognize a road or building that might lead him back to the Aldine estate. But the city was too large, and the boy's memories of leaving the manor were too few.
Whenever he thought he had found the right path, it only led him deeper into unfamiliar streets.
Day after day, he searched.
Day after day, he failed.
Weeks slowly turned into months.
The clean clothes he had once worn became torn and dirty, and the soft skin of his hands became rough from sleeping on stone streets and walking across the city for hours at a time.
Winter eventually came, bringing freezing winds that cut through the capital's narrow roads. Galahad survived by sleeping beside the warm walls of bakeries and kitchens where heat from the ovens leaked into the streets.
Even then, the nights were brutal.
Still, every day he searched for home.
A full year passed before fate finally gave him the answer he had been searching for.
It happened on a quiet afternoon near the noble district.
Galahad had wandered further into the city than usual while searching for food. The streets here were wider and cleaner than the ones he normally slept in, and large estates surrounded the area with tall iron gates and stone walls.
As he walked past one of the estates, something about it caught his attention.
The design of the gate.
The shape of the garden walls.
It looked familiar.
Galahad slowly approached the entrance.
Then the front gates opened.
A group of nobles stepped out of the estate surrounded by armored guards.
At the center of the group walked Lord Marcus Aldine and Lady Elenora.
Behind them were the rest of their children.
Three older boys walked proudly beside their father while two elegant girls followed behind their mother. At the very back of the group walked two younger twin girls holding hands.
Seven children.
Seven perfect heirs of House Aldine.
Galahad froze.
For a moment, he could not breathe.
After an entire year of searching, he had finally found his family.
Without thinking, he began running toward them.
"Father!" he called out.
The guards reacted instantly.
Before Galahad could reach the noble family, one of the armored soldiers stepped forward and shoved him violently to the ground.
"Back away from the lord," the guard barked.
Galahad struggled to stand.
"It's me," he said desperately. "I'm Galahad."
The words caused Marcus Aldine to stop walking.
Slowly, the nobleman turned around.
For several seconds, he simply stared at the filthy child standing in the road.
Rain began to fall from the darkening sky.
Galahad stepped forward again, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Father… I finally found home."
Marcus said nothing.
Then he turned to the guards.
"Deal with it."
The command was cold and immediate.
The soldiers obeyed without hesitation.
The first strike knocked Galahad to the ground. A second blow struck his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. Boots slammed into his body again and again as the guards carried out their lord's orders.
The other children watched in silence.
None of them spoke.
None of them moved.
Rain poured down harder as Galahad lay curled on the stone road, trying to shield himself from the blows with his single arm.
Eventually, Marcus raised a hand.
The guards stepped back.
Galahad struggled to lift his head.
Through blurred vision, he saw his father standing above him.
Marcus looked down at the boy with the same disgust he had shown in the chapel a year ago.
"I would never have such a useless son," he said coldly.
Then he turned away.
The Aldine family continued walking down the street as if nothing had happened.
Galahad remained lying in the road long after they disappeared.
Rain washed the blood from his face as quiet sobs escaped his throat.
And as the storm grew heavier above the capital, the boy who had once been Galahad Aldine cried alone in the street, finally understanding that he had never truly had a home.