The Earth After Rebirth

Gilbert slept soundly in his bed. He looked to be at peace. The bed felt great, the sheets and blankets were clean. He was the type to sleep nude, because he was the kind who sweated a lot while sleeping.

He didn't look as dangerous, he looked defenseless and vulnerable. He laid on his back, his chest was almost entirely visible.

His chest rose at regular and even intervals, but the breathing was slowly picking up. Within minutes his breathing could be heard from outside the room, the pillow was drenched in sweat.

He awoke at the same time as when his door opened. He was still disoriented, but he knew, that the dream had gotten the better of him again.

"Are you okay, Master?" Trent asked him. He already had towels at the ready as if this was a regular occurrence.

He grabbed the towel annoyed. "I'm fine." He confirmed wiping himself dry. They were happening more frequently than before and he explained it away by the fact that he was getting old.

"Same nightmare?" Trent asked.

Only this time, Gilbert didn't feel like talking, so he ignored his helper. He didn't know why he always dreamt of her, it was the same dream every time and he couldn't save her, every time. It was maddening.

"Master, if I may be so rude, why did you lie to young master Isaac?"

"What?" He was still delirious from the dream, so he was a bit slow.

"His mother, master, you said—"

"You shut your mouth. Leave!" He shouted so loud his voice threatened to uproot the room they were in.

"Yes sir, should I make you some tea?"

"Yes!" He shouted again, he was still angry so he couldn't help himself.

The tea was about the only thing that calmed him down when he had a rough night. He got up and got dressed, it wasn't morning yet but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again.

He sat at the couch in his study, attempting to work but he couldn't concentrate. He was already drinking the tea, but that wasn't it. Trent's question roamed his head without permission like a mad man.

He knew exactly why he lied to Isaac, what he didn't know was why that ate at him. He didn't have time to coddle him, so to make him mature quicker was to do what his father did to him.

But he did it cruelly. Even his father never admitted to him straight that he'd murdered his mother, though it was true for his father. He had lied to his son.

He was taught that weakness was a disgusting trait. That was instilled in him, seeing it festering within his son drove him mad. He had to do something, he had to lie that he'd killed his mother.

But that wasn't exactly the case. Gilbert met his mother during his academy years, he was already aware of the fact that he was someone who lusted and discarded women after he had his ways with them.

Isaac's mum was different, he wanted her not just intimately but also in his life. That's why he never wanted to have sexual relations with her, since he knew he'd lose interest after.

That's why they had Isaac well in their early 30s. He held off as long as he could but eventually gave in. And it was as he feared, after the deed, he was no longer interested.

But he clung onto the feelings he once had for her. They weren't there in his heart, but he could still remember in his mind and that was enough to have a lingering care for her, but he still treated her poorly. Something he regretted as he became older.

So much so that he became weaker when it came to Isaac. He tried to be harsh to him, but his hand was always weakened when it came to his son. And now he regretted even this, because someone's son had asserted the dominance he wished his son could.

Isaac's mother suffered from the pregnancy, the doctors long told her that, it was either the pregnancy or her life. She chose the pregnancy of course. Gilbert pretended he didn't care, but it ate at him.

"I'd rather be gone from a world where you no longer cared for me." She said with the brightest smile.

"Do what you want."

Those were the last words they exchanged with each other. Months later their son was born and she no longer breathed the same air her loved ones breathed.

The dreams came to him right after. The regret in his heart was insurmountable, he wanted to hate the child but it wasn't in his heart, he couldn't do it.

He didn't cry when his mother died, but he did when she died. Even though his face seemed hard and unemotional, tears streamed down the stone cold face. His mind reminded his heart what it wanted to forget.

"Master, I'm sorry for my insolence earlier, that question was out of line. Punish me however you see fit." Trent could see how absent his master was.

"You were out of line." He was angry he was made to remember the sacrifices he continued to make for Isaac who seemed forever ungrateful. "I'll forgive you this time, don't do it again."

"Are you giving up going after the Waynworth's sir?"

"A good soldier knows when he's defeated. The Waynworth's have won the battle, but I've still won the war. There's so much going on within our society and they have no idea." He shrugged getting up from his couch.

Wallowing in his defeats wouldn't allow him to achieve anything. So he put on a lazy outfit and headed out with Trent.

Their car stopped in front of a beautiful building. Blakeson was written on it, in bold. But they didn't come here to work, the elevator took them down instead of up.

They travelled straight, stopping by a door, when it opened. An uproar attacked their ears as they entered.