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1. THREE WAY

From a distance an eight-year-old boy looked for a moment at a majestic kastik, before walking closer with a wicker basket. One of the gatekeepers threw a nagging look at him, making the doubts even more heightened. However, the boy remembered his main purpose of coming here.

"Excuse me, sir," she said in an adorable little boy's voice. "I-I'm Vasco, I want to see my father in prison."

Then, the two guards at once looked at him intently from the tip of the foot to the end of his wavy brown hair. After that, he was welcome to enter. However, the boy did not feel relieved at all after the soles of his feet could stand on the castle grounds. He actually felt uncomfortable, because one guard had to take him to the destination.

For some reason, even though he had been visiting his father every three years once a week and it was clear that the floor plan to the cellar was attached to his brain. However, the royal soldiers acted very strictly limited to guests who came from the lower classes.

Iron door rattling. Indicates that the eight-year-old had been welcome to enter the dark passageway without any illumination except for a small gap in each cell deliberately made in place of a lantern.

Narrow plots of barred lined up neatly and were mostly filled with depraved people. Some are mired in prison for opposing state laws. Including Jean Devisser, Vasco's father. However, he never wanted to admit that his father belonged to those people.

"Dad.." call Vasco in a quivering voice as his blue eyes catch the figure of a man in a gray T-shirt sitting cornered until part of his face is not exposed to light.

"How many times has he told you?"

Vasco. He looked back at the basket he had carried in both hands.

"But, mother told me to."

"Father would rather die of hunger than be forever locked up in this torture."

Hearing that, the seeds of clear water suddenly came out of Vasco's eye glands. Get down slowly without being held back. It sobbed in the silence of the hallway.

Vasco groped the surface of the ground beneath him with his bare feet. The texture is rough sandy and moist. He knew how tormented the father who every night had to lie in this place without a bed or just a mat.

"Dad already accepted this fact, son. Dad's okay."

Instead of improving, Vasco just more shed tears. The crying sounded so loud and disturbed the other criminal.

"Who is crying?!"

Jean the father immediately approached the bars and calmed Vasco, who would not stop crying. In various ways he did: coaxing, stroking, wiping tears, to smother the mouth when the volume of his crying voice increased.

"Shut up, Vasco!" whispered Jean, but pitched as if she was jerking.

Way succeeded. Isakan Vasco is recovering. Meanwhile, their eyes exchanged glances that interpreted different meanings in both pairs. Jean Devisser took her hand off Vasco's lips.

He bowed. "I'm sorry I was so hard on you."

Vasco. Until this moment, even until Jean snapped and treated her like that, she remained in her stance. Dad's not a bad guy.

"Vasco wants to hug Dad."

In that sentence, Jean raised her head. It shows a greasy face mixed with dust framed by black hair and beard. He tried hard to dive into the mind of his little son. The man knew how much he missed a son to his father who for six years never carried him or just hugged him again.

"Vasco wants to sail with dad. Vasco wants to fish with dad. Vasco wants to have dinner with dad."

Sensing the water's whirlpool coming back out, Vasco quickly wiped away his tears.

"My friends went sailing with his father, while Vasco-" he said, buzzing. "Vasco sailed with Uncle Bill."

"Uncle Bill was also your parents, Vasco."

"But Uncle Bill is not my father! Uncle has no children!"

"Vasco! You can't say that. Uncle Bill will be mad at you."

"Go back, Vasco. Your clothes are dirty from the ground" asked Jean, "Dad promised you'd be fine here when you got home."

Vasco looked up and saw how shady the father was when a smile streaked across his face.

"Remove your tears. Not a boy if you're still a whiny. Don't let your mom know you just cried. Wash your face in the river behind the palace."

***

After washing his face, Vasco looked at the building which was composed of stones and surrounded by fortresses and towers at each corner. He blinked as his eyes began to sting continuously in the sun.

Vasco grabbed an empty wicker basket. He saw one boy older than him and a girl his age in the field near the river. They are not alone. Under the tree, a man in armor fell asleep with a helmet covering his face. Vasco was convinced that they were the king's sons. From the clothes alone he could judge.

It was a pleasure that they could play at this time, while Vasco had to shoulder the burden of the family by going sailing as a fisherman.

Upon arrival at the coast, Bill fastened his boat rope on a wooden stakes that were set on the beach. He approached Vasco who had just arrived after returning his basket.

"Uncle sailed first?"

"No. Uncle Bill was just helping out other fishermen. His net's stuck in the reef."

"Oh, so."

"Have you met your father?"

Vasco nodded in response.

"Patience, Son. God gives sorrow surely a package with happiness."

"really?"

"Yep. Now it's time for the captain to lead the ocean." Bill put his beret on Vasco's head, making the boy widen his sweet smile.

He will be very handsome when growing up, inner Bill while embracing Vasco's shoulders and carrying him to the ship.

***

"I'm back!"

"Good afternoon, Little Captain!" reply a woman dressed specially milking cow, but that is not her real profession.

Just as Vasco was about to throw himself into the arms, Bellena held him back.

"Go take a shower, Vasco. Body's sweating. I've boiled water for you."

"Mother boil water again? Vasco's grown, Mom. I don't need to take a hot shower anymore. Firewood is getting more expensive."

Bellena laughed at her son's statement. He ruffled Vasco's hair.

"Not anymore, if you're 12 years old."

"Must be 12 years?"

The woman thought for a moment, then agreed. He led Vasco to the bathroom and returned to tidy up the day's catch in the barn.

***