The sky was spotless today, without a cloud to be seen. The sun shone its light on the whole city, from the peaks of the distant mountains down to the white sand of the beach. Red tiled roofs dotted the landscape, topping the tanned earthen walls of the buildings they belonged to. The canals were busier than they'd been all summer, almost completely covered over by the boats travelling through them. On days like this, Markos' father would tell him that the sky was almost as blue as his eyes, and playfully tussle his hair. Then he might take the whole family from their villa down to the beach, and all the servants that could make the journey too. The men would catch fish right out of the ocean and the women would cook them up into a great feast they'd enjoy while the sun set over the horizon. Markos missed those days desperately, even though they'd been so long ago. Before his father had gone to the capital city, Illia. Before the Emperor got sick. 

All that was about to change, though. Father wasn’t going to be in Illia anymore. He had sent a letter a week ago telling the family he was coming back home. He was coming back to Archopoli. At first, Markos couldn’t contain his joy, but now all he wanted to do was sit and watch the summer sky. He was practicing that same ritual in the meadow outside the villa when his silent contemplation was interrupted by a particularly irritating voice. 

“MARKOOOOS!” his brother shouted, running up the hill at a breakneck pace. Barefoot and barely dressed, he was running around in his nightshirt, with his wild brown mop barely moving in the wind from all the oil it had no doubt accumulated since the last time the servants had been brave enough to try and bathe him. Theodotos was his name, and wrecking a quiet afternoon was often enough his idea of a game. 

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Markos still sprung to his feet, however, stopping his little brother in his tracks. “What are you doing out here, Theo? You know that mother doesn’t like it when you run out of the house in your bedclothes.”

“Huh? Who cares about that! You’ve gotta come back to the villa!” Theo said, winded but still very much enthused about something. 

“What? Why? Is it news about Father?” Markos asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow in anticipation. 

“Yeah! Him and Uncle Ignatios! They’re both coming, and soon! We got another letter that says they passed into the province yesterday! C’mon! They’ll be here any minute!” Theo was practically bouncing at this point, and started tugging at Markos’ arm as hard as he could, but failing to make his brother so much as budge. 

“The province border is miles away, Theo, but I’ll go inside if you promise to put some pants on.” said Markos, looking off to the side at a few onlookers on the road who were chuckling at the two of them. 

“It’s a deal!” Theo said, and he ran back down the hill toward the gatehouse, never once looking back to see if his brother was following after him. 

“I guess Mother will be pleased, if nothing else.” Markos muttered as he slowly made his way back too, running his hands through his thick, black hair. Father couldn’t come soon enough.