The morning in Greydock Town arrived cloaked in mist and melancholy. Rain fell steadily, pattering on rooftops and streaming down the cobbled roads. At the Grantham residence, the air was thick with farewells — bittersweet, lingering.
Leo Grantham stood beside his cart, the final trunk in place, the rain soaking his shoulder cloak as his family gathered on the porch. His eyes, usually lit with the bold confidence of a soldier, now held a deeper tenderness.
"Take care of yourself, and do it well, Son," Marianne said, voice steady though her eyes shimmered.
"I'm a Grantham, Mother. I'll do that excellently." He smiled, embracing her tightly.
He turned to Maeryn, who stood wrapped in her shawl. "Your blueberry pie tastes better with each passing year, Maeryn." he said.
"Then you better be back to taste it again, soldier boy." She straightened his coat, brushing invisible dust away.
Their laughter was light, comforting.
