"Hey… Relax… I have something to give you."
Alexander was stunned by the situation and completely froze.
Evandro quickly washed Alexander's paralyzed feet and stood up without any hurry, with the calmest serenity Alexander had ever seen on someone's face. He walked to the back of the house — a house, like most, with just one room — and picked up a small wooden box from atop a simple polished stone table.
The wooden box looked new and well-kept, resembling a small chest. It had polished iron borders with small bronze-colored spots — possibly brass screws — and he sat on the bed near the door.
Click!
A mechanism unlocked and revealed a rolled-up piece of paper inside. It looked very similar to the one Alexandre once had, but this one looked newer and cleaner.
He nodded with his chin for Alexander to sit at the small round center table.
Alexander quickly got up and pulled the chair to the table that faced the bed.
Evandro then delicately picked up the paper, unrolled it carefully, and laid it on the table, stretching it with his hands from top to bottom.
Letting out a deep and calm breath, he began to explain. Alexander's eyes widened; it was a letter written and signed by his father.
"What th—"
"Calm down… I'll explain it properly."
And, with a serene and sweet expression, like a father's, he began to speak slowly.
"Listen closely… Years ago, when I was still a kid… Err… Wait, first tell me, how old are you?"
"22 years."
"Well, how incredible! So am I!"
Alexander flinched and widened his eyes in surprise again.
'What else is he going to do or say now?'
"I know… I don't know why I look older either; I just wanted to be sure of that.
"Well then… A few years back, when I was around 11 or 12 years old, my uncle, who was already in his final days, entrusted me with this chest.
"And he explained that in the year I was born, a Greekclaw soldier with good looks and the aura of youth came running desperately to the old field — a place that no longer exists, since it was destroyed to build this damned village that same year — where my uncle and aunt happily tended to their tobacco and carrot crops.
"When the man approached, my late uncle noticed he was breathless and had dirt on his face, missing pieces of the old crimson armor worn by soldiers.
"He stopped in front of him and said these exact words to my uncle: 'This letter I give you in hopes that fate or luck will lead you to my son. My name is Radamanthos, and my son's name is Alexandre. Good man, I ask you to keep it, hoping that one day my son may see it somehow; so if you hear of him, please try to find him.'
"My uncle, however, wasn't angry or bothered; he was a good man and always helped people when he could. But he was surprised when your father suddenly stopped talking, looked around as if he were being followed, and ran off without looking back.
"My uncle took the letter, which was stained with blood, and tried to decipher it in the following days, eventually rewriting it in a legible way.
"When he was on his deathbed, he asked a trusted young traveler to deliver the old, bloody letter — there was almost no chance anyone could read or discover anything from it — to Radamanthos's wife, who was hiding under the name Jocasta — of course, he knew that from the letter — in the village of Sídero Heart.
"I imagine your mother gave you the letter."
Alexander just nodded quietly.
"My uncle wanted you to learn something from it and search for more information… But I wonder what went wrong and why it took so long…"
Alexander took a deep breath as if he were about to say the worst thing in the world.
"It took long because my mother developed a memory illness…"
Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by images of his mother in his head — her being dragged by soldiers; her sweet smile that stirred a dizzying feeling in almost anyone. Tears started to fall from his face, and slowly, he began to cry, rubbing his still-dirty hands over his face.
Evandro just stayed silent.
After several long seconds, Alexander stopped crying, removed his hands from his face, and slightly extended his hand, nodding toward the letter.
Evandro handed it to him delicately; Alexander, still half-sobbing, began to read the letter — which was written in Elliniká Angliká — silently:
'My beloved son, Alexander, I'm not very good with words, but I'll say everything necessary here.
First of all, I died.
I know… The truth can be harsh. But it is the truth. I died, and there's no turning back.
Now, the reason I died will shape part of your destiny. Even so, my son, it's a choice that belongs to you alone.
I discovered things about the king that there's sadly no space to explain here.
I can say that he did not come from this world, and his rise to power happened by deceiving everyone. I confronted him, in my innocence, and was judged as a rebel under penalty of death.
I sent your mother to the village of Sídero Heart, where I used to work, and took advantage of the fact that I hadn't married her yet. Therefore, no one knew of our relationship, and she could remain safe there.
I am trying to escape the king's wrath, but I already know my fate and know it's impossible for me to do so — after all, he and an entire army know me.
As for you, my dear and beloved future son, what I ask is that you take as your life's goal to remove King Tarquinus from power and perhaps bring justice to me, shedding light on these already hopeless people…
If I could add something about him, it's that the king came to this world through transmigration.
Daddy loves you.