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Your dad, Rikard Vesperus, is inside the kitchen that doubles as a dining room and the main nexus of your family home. Instead of eating breakfast, he's blowing on a newly finished written paper, the interruption of your entrance is greeted by a simple nodding ''Hey.''
''Hey.'' You return, concentrating on the kitchen.
You've often heard ladies call him ''head-turning'' and there's -perhaps- some truth there. Gold is the color of Mother Earth and he's been blessed with long, thick shoulder-length hair of vivacious gold, a well-groomed beard, and sharp, sky-blue eyes to pretend to be one of her ''blessed''.
To you, he kinda gave you impressions of being an overgrown blond cat.
''You remember Nathaniel?'' He asks you as you prepare your breakfast. Dad has a naturally grave voice, which fits well with the rather hard traits of his face. ''Hey, love'' He greets your mom as she casually waves back while walking into their rooms.
Where your mother is lithe and elegant, your dad is solid and harsh.
Appearances are deceiving.
''Of course, I remember your buddy Exorcist.'' You don't turn to look at him, too focused on making your plate. Beans, meat, and cut vegetables in a nice brown sauce. Your parents may not be kingly chefs but they cook with souls.
Dad gently folds his letter, puts it inside an envelope, and refreshes his quill. ''Once this letter reaches him we should expect his visit in a few months, he's missed far too many of your birthdays and now that we have a home, he's got no excuses to skip.''
''Pft, just admit you want to see him again.'' You sit before him as he fiddles on warming clay for his signature ring. ''It'll be nice to see uncle again for sure."
Your father is a ward of the church and your mother is an elf, this combination made for a thin extended family... outside Nathaniel, you only have scarce memories of anyone else. You spent your first eight years inside the elven enclave safeguarding their entire race; there are some glimpses of memories about potential grandparents in your head but it's far too murky to recall anything.
''Think the Ecclesiastic Post is working here?'' You ask since dad doesn't want to admit he wants to see his best friend.
''They bloody better, Eichenwald isn't a civilized pile of dirt. Which reminds me...'' Satisfied with his letter, he let it rest and looked at you properly. ''...it's time to visit the market and Mamono enclave.''
The grimace you make isn't because of the food. The laborers your mother mentioned will come from there, where towns pack their monstrous population into one, easy-to-find and isolated district. Dukes and barons being who they are, these enclaves can function widely differently from one town to the next, sometimes it's enough to make one doubt the worth of the Parent Gods children.
''Yeah, I didn't have a look in there yet but if it's half as bad as that craphole that was the migrant camp, it'll be an experience'' Dad continues after seeing your reaction
