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Liij was the closest town to where Kaz was heading, so thats where he disembarked the ferry. He was able to pay a stablehand to borrow a horse for the day, to be returned by sunset.
No one recognized him. As Brekker or Rietveld. And if they did, they were smart enough not to show it around him.
Kaz rode at a clip through the town into the country. He knew where to avoid traffic by heart, and he avoided entering the other towns that separated him from his goal with expert's guidance. The horse knew well enough to behave, and Kaz made sure to give her plenty encouragement throughout the ride.
When he made the turn where dirt turned to gravel, that's when his chest began to tighten. He was getting closer.The Rietveld family farm loomed in the distance, the morning sun reflecting off the shuttered windows and drawing attention to the odd missing tile on the roof. He'd have to fix that, or better yet, pay someone else to.
Kaz kept his eyes focused on the path ahead as he approached his family home. The fields were barren, all produce harvested for the winter and the absence of anything growing made the place feel all the more like it was barren. Haunted. An echo of his past that only existed to remind him of what he had been. What he had lost. How the world had never been truly kind to Kaz Rietveld. From the moment he was born the world had taken from him, and it never stopped.
He dismounted the horse swiftly when he reached the front porch. His cane dropping to his side, Kaz secured the horse's reins to the post at the bottom of the front step. Some encouraging and appreciative pats later, Kaz walked around the side of the house.
The interior was too full of ghosts for his uneasy mind to face this morning. If he did, he knew he'd never make it back to Ketterdam in time for the Club to open, and that would only draw attention to his absence, and encourage questions. No. He was here for one purpose. One tradition. One stupid tradition he kept.
What was even the purpose of this? Why, every year did he spend his birthday like this? Returning to his family farm and feeling sorry for himself did him no favors, it did him no good. There was nothing to gain out here. The animals he kept in the barn were all tended to by a neighbor he paid. The fields were the same when it was the seasons for it. But this place was still Rietveld's As the stone at the entrance to the driveway proclaimed. It was still his.
Bringing Kaz out of the stupidity of his own thoughts, the rising sun broke through the ever present grey cloud cover, and shone through the dangling leaves of the weeping willow he was headed towards. Kaz stood still for but a moment. Gloves clasped over each other atop his cane, his hat shadowing his eyes as he looked on at the familiar scene. He could hear the rustling grass beneath his and Jordie's feet as they ran around here. The laughter in their hearts and joy in their smiles as they played. Da calling them inside for supper. Jordie teaching Kaz how to ride. Da teaching Kaz how to tell when the apples were ready to be picked, and how to pick the best ones.
The sounds of the chicken inside the barn brought him back once again. He was here for a reason.
Kaz approached the weeping willow. He had few memories with this tree, despite it having been there his whole life and then some. The boys limited their time under this tree, Jordie having dubbed it the 'special occasion tree'. Growing up, Kaz had called it the 'fancy dress tree', believing that the way the leaves tumbled down made the outline similar to a ball gown's skirt he had seen in one of Jordie's books. Da had called it the veil between worlds. Correcting Kaz in that it's leaves formed more the shape of a veil and that-
And that he'd know what he was talking about when Kaz wore one on his wedding day.
The thought caused Kaz to blink back to the present. Da had been stuck in his ways. He had said that before even Kaz knew he was Kaz. Kaz made a thousand mental excuses for his father' words. It didn't abate the unease that the memory brought on.
It didn't help that Da was right with his title for the tree.
Kaz parted the leaves slowly, the tips of the leaves brushing against his gloves and rustling as he stepped into the sanctum of the family tree.
The headstone was red, granite and polished as if it had just been carved and placed that week. Hidden from the outside world here, Kaz doubted it saw any of the elements. The design at the top, the words Kaz had memorized :
May it Please Ghezen to Receive
The Most Reverend Magnus Johannus Rietveld
and his wife
Juliette Thea Rietveld
Beloved Parents of Jordan and ___Rietveld
Kaz bit the inside of his lips as he looked down at the plot. At the intricate design of the hand ave the engraving. Ghezen's Hand outstretched. The chrysanthemums were only just out of season, but the leaves of the crocuses were still present on the ground before him. The leaves of the lilies too, covering where Kaz knew his parents to be buried.
That damned name.
Kaz closed his eyes. As if not looking made the name disappear as he had worked so hard to do. The one place he had not rectified stood in front of him, mocking him, taunting him with it's presence. No matter how hard he worked and tried to be Kaz Rietveld, or Kaz Brekker, there would always be this damn stone to remind him.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling his annoyance, Kaz collected himself with a nod of his head and a pursed smile that he normally saved for when someone was annoying him. Or when Jesper was trying to convince him to play at his club.
"Thank you, Ma. I'm-" Kaz knew what he wanted to say. But his ability to say it was another thing entirely, "Give Da hell for me. And watch Jordie."
Before he let himself utter another word, before he let himself feel another thing or any emotion stir up inside him, Kaz was gone from beneath the willow. He was gone from the farm. As quickly as he arrived in Liij, he was once again in Ketterdam. In his city. In his Barrel. And he was what he was always meant to be. The Bastard of The Barrel, Dirtyhands didn't have a birthday. And even if he did, the devil he was wouldn't celebrate such an affair. He would be too busy. He had clubs to run, and plans to enact. He didn't have time to think about that farm. About that house. About that tree. About that stone. Those were of another world, another place and time entirely.
Those were beneath his armor.