The Ridge Men, despite their expertise at being unseen, were unable to hide in a small village like Cordon where everybody knew everybody. Hence, they did not even attempt it. As Phillip had thought they would, they made their way straight to the Baron's estate, and from what the villagers heard, the servants there bent over backwards to accommodate them after the Baron read through a letter with a distinct crest embossed in the paper and stamped into the wax seal.

The Kildares. Of course it was the Kildares. The Ridge Men answered to nobody else.

When Phillip heard the name, he was understandably concerned. He had not recognised them out in the fields, and it had been two decades since he'd had any contact with his family. He'd had no desire to ever see or contact them again. Now it seemed that Cornelius was giving them no choice.

But, in this illusion, Phillip had never explained his family situation to Rassa. Rassa had never even heard his father mention his family in the two and a half years he'd been here. The fact that Rassa had never even thought to ask...or perhaps he had thought about it, and then he'd pushed the thought away knowing that he wouldn't like the answers. That the answers would highlight things that were different to what Rassa knew to be true, and ruin the illusion for him.

But now it seemed inevitable. After all, the Kildares were still dealing with the crisis of not having an heir seeing as they hadn't kidnapped Rassa and tortured him for his seed and Zaroth's sick amusement. It was completely plausible that even in this Utopian reality, Rassa would still have to deal with this hurdle to his happiness.

Only what floored him was seeing Aegin.

The Aegin he saw was just a more grown up version of the Aegin Rassa had first met. Only his lavender eyes no longer sparked with curiosity, nor the teasing mirth that had resided in them in more recent times. These eyes seemed cold and distant, just like the others that were with him. How had Aegin's curiosity that had led him to stray away from the Ridge Men been thoroughly suppressed in this illusion? What could they have done to make it so? Surely they wouldn't have done anything so awful to him?

But Rassa knew the answer. An answer he'd been avoiding.

Seeing Aegin made him think of Ebony. If Aegin was still a Ridge Man, was Ebony still a slave at Jerrica? It must have been the case. And if it was, her treatment was surely not something to brag about either. Why had Surai never thought to mention these consequences to him? Or perhaps she had, and he'd just been too eager to throw away his own suffering. So eager that he hadn't spared a thought for those he'd liberated in one way or another. Now it seemed they had come to suffer in his place.

It had been Rassa's interference in Ebony's and Aegin's lives that had set them on a path they'd both admitted they were happier with. It was the same with Sharli, Iah and Kit. They'd been squatting in the Ruin and starving before Rassa had found them. If this was the consequence, was his burden really that much of a burden after all?

Rassa hadn't thought of the world outside in over a year. Every time it even tried to pop up in his thoughts he'd push it away. Insist on telling himself that reality was better off without him in it. Now, Rassa couldn't help but second guess his decision. Second guess which parts of reality he'd truly wanted to cast aside, and if they had been worth it for what he sought. If he'd only been thinking of the burdens of his reality, had he really made a decision at all? What of the good parts? What of the family he had made? Of the small joys he had found? He had cast them aside because they'd been overshadowed by the burdens.

Now, in this illusion, it seemed to be the opposite. He could sense the change in himself. How the burdens didn't seem to weigh much at all when he thought of his family. But here...here Rassa was not the decision maker of the family. Here he was just a young man working in fields and living in his childhood home until he would find a partner to share his life with, then he'd teach his children the same skills his parents had taught him. Routine. Plain old, boring routine.

His parents sounded distressed that night as Rassa feigned going to bed early. He listened through the door as they spoke quietly to each other of their burdens. Of the arrival of the Ridge Men in Cordon.

"I thought your father cut you off?" Anna questioned, "That he'd erased you from family documents".

"He did," Phillip replied, "And I was happy to be rid of him. Of all of them".

"Then why are they here?" asked Anna, "There is nothing here. We're a tiny village and our main trade item is fruit. Not even the Life Line granting kind he seemed so intent on feeding to the world regardless of risk".

"We know why he's sent someone Anna," said Phillip, "He'll be desperate for something, though we can't know what, but it'll be something to do with me".

"You don't think he knows about...?"

"About Rassa?" asked Phillip, "I never sent word, and I haven't ever seen anyone who I know or who would know me. If he doesn't know yet though, he will surely know when the Ridge Men return to him. There is no hiding Rassa anymore. He's an adult now".

"Yes, an adult and a grandson of the most powerful Duke in Eldovia, not to mention a direct bloodline relative of the Emperor himself," Anna grumbled, "He has to know, Phillip. He can't enter into this blindly".

"I know, Anna," Phillip replied, "I don't want him to be exposed to them any more than you do. They are powerful people, and have been powerful for over a thousand years. No one stays that powerful for that long and doesn't lose track of their moral compass. I don't want Rassa to lose his too. He's too good. Too kind".

"Of course he is, he's my son," Anna huffed.

"Yes, dear," Phillip said, and Rassa couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips when he imagined Phillip rolling his eyes. His parents had always been good together, whether they were arguing or being sickly sweet to one another. The key word of course being 'had'.

His parents were dead. The ones standing in the room beyond the door he was leaning against were figments of this illusion, spawned from his imagination and Surai's power.

Rassa's eyes widened in realisation. Surai. He needed to talk to Surai.