Many days had passed since Chase had arrived at his doorstep. Logan had set up the bed in the spare room for Chase. The two of them had been able to get Logan's hired work done twice as fast. When it came to working in the tavern, Chase entertained the guests so that they stayed longer and drank more, and left better tips.
The infant slept in Logan's room. Logan often stayed up late, unable to sleep. It was on those nights he would stare at his nephew. Even when closed, Logan always thought of his eyes. Aquamarine, like the crystal clear water over a reef. He had his mother's eyes; Logan's sister's. Logan couldn't help but recall when his father had brought baby Madison to Logan when he was young. It was like those same eyes had come out of his memories and reappeared on the boy. He had bleach-blonde hair all of his own, soft as velvet. Chase said he was nearly two. Soon he would be talking. Logan couldn't help but wonder what he would say.
It was after another sleepless night that Logan came to the kitchen early and cooked breakfast. Chase was soon awake and downstairs, loured by the tantalizing aromas. He had brought the boy down with him. He saw Logan with his aquamarine eyes and babbled something incomprehensibly.
"He should be able to walk soon," Chase mused as he waited with his son in his lap for breakfast. "We would practice sometimes as we traveled."
"I decided what to name him," Logan said unexpectedly. "He will be called Connor."
The boy gurgled happily.
"It fits him," Chase said as he bounced the newly dubbed Connor on his knee.
"When will you be taking the news to my sister?" he asked, as he took the oatmeal off the stove.
Chase stroked his beard. He had liked his scruffy looks and had let it grow out. "I say in a few days time. Need to map out the journey and give sailors enough time to be persuaded into my budget."
Logan nodded as Chase served himself, taking Connor off his lap. "Alright. I have a letter to my sister, telling her everything. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her anything; just let her read the letter."
Chase chuckled as he stirred honey into his oatmeal. "Of course, mate!"
Logan smiled and sat down. "Thanks."
"Obviously, I'll come back and visit after that. Traveling back to Albion and then all the way out here again will give me enough traveling to stay here a while. Maybe work at the tavern with you, make sure Connor grows up well."
Logan watched Connor as the little boy grasped around Logan's figure with his small, pudgy hands. "I would quite like that."

Logan dusted off his hands when he heard a knock at his door. It was late evening, and he was just finishing up washing his dishes.
After sailing away from Albion, Logan wandered the foreign countries aimlessly until he stumbled upon the village of Skywater. It was a small village by the sea, with a fairly busy port bringing trade and visitors throughout the year. Logan was lent a nice house in exchange for his help at a local tavern. He worked as a bartender to pay for staying in the small house, and then some. Soon he had enough extra money to buy the house for himself. He then worked at the tavern on occasion, but made his main income by putting himself up for hire in many different trades. He fixed roofs, did carpenters work, cooked, made many repairs, and help out ship captains in unloading their boats for money and favors. He soon had a good reputation in the town, and had come to befriend many regulars at the tavern. His new life was a success in his eyes.
Opening the door to his small house, an interesting sight met his eyes. A man, bedraggled and with salt-crusted hair and clothes, stood, his eyes rimmed with the evidence of little sleep. His extremely red hair was tangled and frayed, and a beard had begun to grow after missing many a shavings. In one arm he carried a small box with a letter attached to its top, in the other a small infant who was fast asleep.
Logan took it all in with a glance. The old Logan would have sent the man away, but Logan had changed in his times traveling and living in Skywater. He brought the man inside, fed him, gave him warm clothes, and placed the infant in a make-shift cradle, still asleep.
When the man had drank the last of his ale, he wiped his mouth and handed Logan the box.
Logan took it. "What's this?"
The man silenced a belch. "From Madison, your sister."
Logan's eyes immediately sparked with surprise. "She sent you all this way to give me a package?"
The man shook his head and nodded to the note. "No, there's more. Read it."
Logan eyed the man before scanning the note.

To Logan, former king of Albion, where ever he may reside.

Dearest Brother,
I expect that since you are reading this, Chase has found you. If you are settled or not, I'm not sure. I only hope that where ever you are, you are happy.
The reason I have sent Chase on such a perilous journey is complicated. I'm sure my present to you will clear things up a bit, but I have little time I must write this quick.
In short, I have been given a prophecy from Theresa. The child Chase has brought to you is my son. My third. The others (from oldest to youngest) are Logan II, who reminds me so much of you, in all the good ways of course. And then there is Jack, the twin of the boy I have sent you. Theresa, to sum it up, said that I must keep the two apart or there will be great destruction. More is not clear, but I knew I had to send one of the twins away.
There is no other person I trust with my son then you, Logan. I would entrust him to Chase, his father, but Chase is a wanderer. He is meant to roam, and could never settle anywhere for any long period of time.
In Theresa's message, she made it clear to me that it was this son, that I have entrusted to you, that would be the one to cause damage and destruction if kept with his twin. That I why I send him to you. Out of anyone I know, you have the most experience in changing who you were thought to be. I know that my son can be good, with the right guidance. I hope you can provide this to him.
Please don't tell him he has a twin, or who his parents are, none of it. Don't lie completely, though, he should know you are his uncle. Raise him as you see fit. He deserves to know the truth, but only when you known he's ready.
His name is up to you. But please, tell Chase so he may tell me. I wish to know my child's name.
I will never be able to repay you enough.

Best of Wishes and a Million Thanks,
Madison

The little girl sat on the steps of her house in the cold of the Dweller Camp. The snow fell silently from the sky, as it did day and night throughout the year. It was especially cold at the this time of the night. But the girl did not shiver. She was born in the Dweller Camp, and had grown accustom to the weather, as any Dweller did. Her home was little more than a wagon without wheels, for the Dweller Camp was a poor place. She sat on the steps, unable to sleep.
She had awoken from a fevered sleep to find Mother slumbering, and Father gone. This didn't surprise the young girl. Father was an adventurer, a wanderer of sorts. It was unheard of for him to stay anywhere for a long period of time. She often awoke some mornings to find Father had left, and had only just arrived the previous day. He had stayed a descent amount of time with her on this occasion, and to see him gone was almost expected.
Sitting outside her home, the young girl watched her breath as it drifted ever upwards in white plumes. Though it had done this for as long as she could remember, it never ceased to fascinate her. She looked up at the sound of footsteps, the crunching of snow not unlike the volume of gunfire in the enveloping silence.
Father appeared farther up the path, his flame-red hair like a beacon against the whiteness of the landscape. He had provision strapped to his back; by the looks of it, he would be gone much longer than ever. Sadness hung in the girl's chest like she had felt never before. It weighed her down so she could not even stand and meet Father down the path. It was alright though, for he made his way up to the house and sat next to the girl with a grunt, his pack clanking mutedly as he did.
"Are you going to be gone for a long while, Father?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
He sighed, his breath pluming as hers had done, and yet for the first time she found no interest in it. Suddenly, the peaceful night had become a time of great sorrow.
"I am, my winter jewel." He said, leaning over to kiss her snow-flecked, red-tinged brown curls.
"Can I come too?" she asked, looking up into his stormy grey eyes.
They reflected the sadness in the girl's own.
"No, my darling. Not this time. No, this time I will be gone far too long."
He stood, staring distractedly in the distance as he did every day before he would turn up gone.
"I never get to come adventuring with you..." she muttered, half to herself.
He leaned down and gave the girl a long embrace.
"When I come home, I promise I'll take you adventuring. Perhaps we'll go and see Bowerstone Lake; would you like that?"
Hidden behind Father's warm Dweller clothes, the girl smiled. "I would very much like that!"
He let her go, holding her at arms length. "Take care of you mother while I'm gone."
She nodded. "I will."
He nodded his goodbye and strode off down the path. He had almost been lost to sight when he turned.
"Remember where all my love lies?" he called.
The girl's face broke into a grin as she answer the question she had come to answer all her life.
She placed a hand over her heart. "It's all right here." she breathed quietly.
Father must of saw the gesture, because he waved and was lost around the bend in the path.
The girl felt tired once more, perhaps soothed in knowing where Father was. She curled up in her small bed. As sleep began to dull her scenes, the girl placed a hand over her heart once more.
That's where Father's love lies...