The evening chill bit at Henry's face as he approached the outer gates of the Sinclair Barony town. Warm light spilled from the stone guardhouses, illuminating the familiar cobblestone road. It felt surreal to be back after almost four months away.
Two armored guards stepped out to block the path. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their hands resting firmly on the hilts of their broadswords. They stared up at the monstrous black warhorse and its cloaked rider with clear suspicion. One of the men was Sir Lance.
Sir Lance evaluated the stranger carefully. The rider wore simple civilian clothes, but he carried himself with the heavy, unshakeable posture of a confident warrior. The young man's dark hair framed a face that looked entirely too rugged and handsome for a common traveler. The sharp jawline and the steady eyes commanded immediate respect.
"Halt," Sir Lance commanded loudly. He drew his broadsword just an inch from its scabbard, letting the steel gleam in the torchlight as a warning. "State your name and your business in the Sinclair Barony."
Henry looked down at the knight from atop his saddle. In his past life, Sir Lance was the exact man who had dragged him away to the mountain border garrison. Henry felt a brief flicker of old resentment, but he buried it instantly. That timeline no longer existed.
"I can't believe you don't remember me, Sir Lance," Henry said calmly.
Sir Lance furrowed his brow in deep confusion. He searched his memory, but he already knew for a fact that he had never interacted with this man before in his entire life.
"I know every face that passes through these gates," Sir Lance replied defensively. "I don't know you."
Henry reached up and pulled back his hood. The torchlight illuminated his face completely.
Sir Lance physically recoiled. He shoved his broadsword back down into its scabbard. His eyes widened in absolute shock.
"Young master?" Sir Lance stammered.
"It's me, Sir Lance," Henry instructed.
The guards stepped aside frantically, pulling their hands away from their weapons. They scrambled to open the gate. Sir Lance offered an awkward apology as Henry nudged his warhorse forward into the bustling town streets.
The ride up to the main castle was uneventful, with Henry finally dismounting in the central courtyard of the castle. Two stable hands rushed forward to take the reins. They hesitated, looking completely terrified of Sir Red's massive beast. Henry gave them strict instructions to feed the horse well and keep their distance, then turned toward the massive oak doors.
He stepped into the grand hall. The familiar warmth of the estate washed over him immediately. Before he could even take off his cloak, a voice echoed from the upper staircase.
"Henry!"
Lady Sarah hurried across the main hall and practically tackled her Henry. Henry hugged his mother back, burying his face in her shoulder.
"You're safe," Lady Sarah whispered. She pulled back to cup his face in her hands. She looked him up and down. "You look so different. You look so grown."
"It is good to see you, Mother," Henry smiled genuinely. It had been nearly four months since he last saw her. Two months of basic training had been followed immediately by almost two months trapped in the darkness of the dungeon.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall. Baron Arnold walked over slowly. The stoic ruler of the Barony stopped a few feet away from them. He didn't offer a hug. Instead, his sharp eyes scanned Henry from head to toe. Arnold noticed the way Henry stood perfectly balanced. He saw the confident edge hidden just beneath his son's smile.
"You thrived," Baron Arnold stated simply. The words carried a quiet note of genuine respect.
"I did, Father," Henry replied.
"Little bro!" Howard called out, entering the hall from the dining room.
Howard jogged over with a bright grin. Howard's senses immediately picked up on the anomalies. Howard felt a strange, oppressive weight radiating from Henry that hadn't been there before.
Howard clapped Henry on the shoulder, feeling the rock-hard muscle beneath the wool fabric.
"You feel like a boulder," Howard laughed. "Where have you been these last four months? What exactly did they have you doing?"
"A lot of running," Henry answered smoothly. He remembered his strict confidentiality orders regarding the Colored Unknowns. "It was mostly just tough training, really."
"Well, it paid off," Howard admitted. His competitive drive flared quietly in his chest. " We'll have to spar while you're home."
"Maybe later," Henry deflected politely. He turned back to his mother. "Where is Mia?"
Lady Sarah smiled softly. She completely understood his priority. "She should be finishing her mending in the lower servant halls."
Henry thanked his family. He excused himself and navigated the familiar corridors of the estate. He moved quickly. The castle felt entirely unchanged, yet Henry felt like a completely different person walking through it.
He descended the stone steps into the servant wing. The area was mostly quiet. Most of the staff were likely eating their evening meals. Henry walked down the narrow hallway until he saw a sliver of light spilling from an open doorway.
He stopped at the threshold of the laundry room.
Mia sat on a wooden stool. Her back was facing the door. She was diligently stitching a torn tunic by the light of a single candle. Her simple grey dress draped loosely over her frame. She looked as beautiful and gentle as Henry remembered.
Henry leaned against the wooden doorframe. He intentionally scuffed his boot against the stone to announce his presence without startling her.
Mia paused her stitching. She turned her head slowly.
When her eyes locked onto Henry, the needle slipped from her fingers. It clattered softly onto the wooden floorboards. She stood up from the stool. Her hands trembled slightly as she took in his new appearance. The longer hair and the rugged, handsome features caught her completely off guard. He radiated a calm, protective warmth that anchored the entire room.
"Young master?" Mia whispered. Her voice was barely audible.
"I told you not to call me that," Henry smiled, his voice softening.
Tears instantly welled in Mia's eyes as she buried her face into his chest.
Henry wrapped his arms securely around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head. He felt her quiet sobs vibrating against him. All his other thoughts dissipated. Holding her in the quiet laundry room, Henry finally felt like he was truly home.