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He looked about the place in silence, arms crossed, mind wandering. The war was over – won by the woman he had come to respect and admire and who'd he have wandered into certain death for. In fact, almost did, hadn't it been for Villem sacrificing himself in an attempt to redeem his actions.
Nonetheless Gascon knew there would be more wars in the years to come – a peace treaty may have been signed, but rulers got greedy, sooner or later.
Peace.
Such a strange word. Foreign to him, mostly, except for the far away memories of a protected childhood home, a caring family.
The closest he had ever come to that feeling again had been the feasts with his Strays – and as of late, the precious and rare moments of rest they all had enjoyed during the fighting. Evenings around the fire, wine shared with Meve and Reynard just as the war had neared it's end. She had told him about his reward one of those evenings, inquiring about what he'd be up to after the war was finally over. He had never expected her to bestow upon him new estates, a place to call home, no matter how close they had become.
Meve really cared about him, he figured and got moving, a small smile finding it's way back to his lips.
The mansion was large, abandoned by its former owners but still in good shape. Right now there were some workers buzzing about the place, taking care of fixing up the last few lose panels, arranging furniture and drapery. Sometimes one of them would ask for his opinion, whether everything was to his satisfaction, but he honestly had no answer for them – as long as it didn't fall apart and was warm, it was fine to him. It was more than he'd had for a long time.
Gascon stopped in front of one of the windows of the upper level of the house, looking outside into the front yard. It had been the most overgrown spot of the estate when he arrived and by now it had been fashioned to his tastes: stables for horses, kennels for the dogs (with exception of one certain red-and-white mutt. He was allowed to roam freely as he pleased); an open space to practice archery and sword fighting. One didn't want to get out of shape, after all.
Looking at all of this, he only slowly started to process that this was his now. Sure, he had been around for a few weeks already, overseeing the work that was being done, but seeing everything now, close to completion, it finally started to seep into his conscious.
No more raids. No more sleeping in the middle of the woods. No more stealing, no more killing. The thought left a strange taste in his mouth. Gascon wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad one.
Both Meve and Reynard had reassured him he'd come to love the place, the lifestyle, the comfort that it ensued. Upon arriving, he hadn't been too sure of that, but seeing the estate now, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all?
Some time of rest, of peace. He – no, all of them – surely deserved that much