Later that evening:-
They all settled down after hours of blabbering on random things, everyone went back to their duty as usual but their was a difference, their eyes— Not dull anymore but filled with inexplicable joy in their eyes
When Elias stepped inside,
he didn't see a mansion.
He saw a home.
The air smelled the same—lavender and old wood.
A fireplace still burned where no one had sat after him
"Your room's been the same," housekeeper said making Elias come out of trance.
She added, quieter:
"I changed the sheets every week. Just in case, you come back."
Elias didn't say anything but his eyes shone with quie sometime — Joy.
He walked through the halls like a ghost coming back to life.
Every portrait watched him in silence.
Every step he took echoed softer than the last.
He paused before his room.
The doorknob was warm.
He opened it slowly.
Inside: Untouched, Just as he had left. He could sense it, everything.
Books stacked on his old desk.
A half-drawn sketch still pinned to the wall.
His coat—still hanging behind the door—smelled of summer rain and steel.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
The mattress sinked him inside, just the way he remembered.
A knock came, softer and familiar.
The head maid peeked in, her eyes shining.
"Dinner's ready. If you're not too tired, should i bring it here?"
Elias nodded. "It's ok,I'll come."
Elias get up from his bed, slipped into a silk white robe, and went outside.
When he stepped out into the hallway again, he wasn't alone.
The warmth followed him.
The quiet joy of people who didn't need explanations.
No one asked where he had been.
They only cared that he was here.
Alive.
Home.
Together with them.
---
At dinner table:-
The doors of the old mansion creaked open—just like always—but tonight, even the creak sounded gentler.
Almost like the walls were holding their breath.
Candles were lit, not too many, not too few— Just enough to make the halls feel less lonely.
Just enough to feel the warmth from inside.
Just enough to see their eyes filled with joy.
And Just enough to make shadows dance like they used to, when he was still home.
When he was still theirs, And now that he has again return their.
The table was set, even though no one had planned it.
Someone had placed his favorite dish near the center.
Someone had remembered that he hated too much salt.
Someone had folded the napkin the way he used to fold it as a child.
Someone had made it feel like he had never left.
And yet—
Everything felt different, yet strangely still same.
Elias sat down slowly, not at the head of the table, but to the side—where he used to sit when he was still small enough to swing his legs beneath the chair.
Across from him sat the old steward.
Who once scolded him for dropping silverware.
Now, the man's hands trembled too much to lift a spoon.
"Eat," someone whispered. "You must be starving."
He wasn't.
Not for food.
But he took the first bite anyway.
And with that, the others joined.
One by one, like ghosts returning to life, they sat.
Laughing softly, telling stories in pieces.
Afraid too much joy would shatter the moment.
Afraid too much silence would bury it.
"We kept your room clean," said a maid with swollen eyes.
"As if dusting it would bring you back."
"You know he never liked that violet blanket," muttered one of the knights.
"You insisted on keeping it,though." someone else accused.
Elias smiled.
He had missed these small bickering, those laughs and everything.
"I dreamt you came home," the cook said suddenly. Her voice cracked.
"But I always woke up before I could hug you."
Elias didn't answer.
He just looked at her with the gentleness of a thousand unsaid things.
And for a moment, no one spoke.
Just forks clinking.
Chairs creaking.
And then Elias stood up, and walked towards the cook who was looking at him with twinkling eyes.
Elias came and hugged her, she burried her face in his embrace. Finally, hehas return.
Everyone had tears of joy in their eyes.
The hall was silent.
Their was just sound of sniffing.
The sound of someone wiping their face with a sleeve they thought was unnoticed.
It was the warmest dinner of his life.
And yet—
There was still that haunting hush beneath it all.
The ache of too long gone.
The weight of time that no feast could fill.
When dessert came—a soft, overbaked pastry filled with plum—Elias has liked when he was little but....
" Oh, my. I am sorry I forgot" said chef hastily.
" How could you forgot that?? You know it reminds him of Miss" Said cook and then shut her mouth quickly.
They all looked towards Elias with wide eyes, scared tht he might get sad after remembering his mother.
" It's ok, it doesn't matter anymore"
Elias said smiling.
Elias picked up a small bite with spoon.
"You don't hate plums, now??," said a knight.
"I still do," Elias said.
Then took a bite anyway.
---
The next day:-
They sat in the quiet of the strategy chamber. Map fragments and coded reports strewn across the table. Outside the window, the city lights burned low, as if giving them privacy.
"Ok let's talk now" said Elias firmly.