Disclaimer: I do not own GS or its characters.

Chapter 1

Take care of yourself for me

~Azalea

Driving through the lush green hills and golden brown fields of the countryside was so peaceful and calming to the nerves. Like the sight of a slithering stream that runs silently, like a downy feather pillow to fall asleep on or the gentle drizzle of an afternoon shower unto the blooming flowers. The trees scattered by the road seemed to form a canopy over the two way cemented roads. Everything around was green and leafy, the fences by the road indicated the property lines of the residents, seemingly unending. The vast expanse of land reached the horizon, where the land meets the sky.

The air was refreshing as cool water, soothing to the itchy throat of the Joule family driver as he pulled the car window down. The shade of the trees were welcoming to the agitated driver, only a little light seeping in between the leaves was hitting the car, making the drive comfortable to his young master situated on the back seat, who was sleeping stiffly, noticeably nursing his hang over. Once again the mistress of the household got angry at her only son, coming home late and full of bruises. Leaving the old chauffeur with a job he could only nod his head in acknowledgement.

Shuffling to open the map the Lady Joule gave him, he saw the location was getting nearer, as he was instructed to do, "Leave Yzak a kilometer away before the acres comes into view."The angry voice of the lady echoed through his mind,but of course being the long time, kind, and old chauffeur of the young master he couldn't just leave him be. Parking the car a few meters before the house's prominent big brown gate, under the shade of a cotton tree, he abandoned the driver's seat and opened the door beside the slumbering platinum blonde.

"Young master Yzak, wake up. We have arrived at your destination." Speaking in a stern commanding voice, a voice with authority, he left the door open and got Yzak's bags out of the car's compartment. As expected Yzak groaned in pain, his head weighed like a ton, his throat as dry as the Sahara desert and the morning's bright light hitting his face was making it definitely worse than ever.

Cracking a piercing blue stare, the cracked up silver-haired temperamental young man growled, "Didn't I friggin' tell you people to not wake me up? Can't you even understand simple words? DO NOT WAKE ME UP! Now my head hurts and it is your entire fault!" Yzak scowled, emphasizing word per word at the old man. Yzak was never an early riser and an I-don't-need-8-hours-of-sleep kind of guy, he was always grouchy and snappy whenever his sleep was incomplete, especially now, together with massive hangover it made him irritated and weary.

"Do we have any water here? I'm parched." Yzak inquired at the old man, the chauffeur shook his head 'no' in reply as he bowed to greet Yzak a good morning also he was visibly shuffling from one foot to the other.

Throwing his hand up in disbelief, the irritably and unfairly awakened young man huffed and tried getting his composure and sleep back. Just then he noticed he was not in his comfortable bed, inside their enormous mansion but inside the car that was parked in some place he didn't know. "Bring me home, I feel like dying now." Keeping his anger in check and the back-stabbing pain inflicted by the alcohol in his system, with one hand covering his eyes, he patted his pockets for to look for his newly bought sleek black touch screen phone.

Not here.

"I'm sorry, young master. I cannot do that. You have to step out of the car now." His chauffeur answered in a clipped but polite voice still.

Feeling unarmed, defenceless and vulnerable, he dreadfully faced his old chauffeur. He had a lot of gray hairs peppering his once healthy black hair and his hairline was obviously receding. Wrinkles and spots were found on his face. He really was his old, old chauffeur. Huffing in defeat he tried to cool his head and said, "J-ust, just, just bring me home, I don't want to fire you." He said in a forlorn voice. "I have no energy to shout and argue with you as well as to play along with this prank. When I get back, whoever planned this out will get a hell of a beating from me!" The pain intensifying as Yzak tried to calm his grating nerves, his sleep is not yet completed.

"Young master, your mother instructed me to give you these letters." The old man placed the letters on Yzak's lap. Yzak eyed the letters, if only I could burn the lousy pieces of paper with my glare. Seeing that Yzak was in his stubborn streak, "I'm sorry to do this young master. I hope you can forgive me..." the chauffeur pulled Yzak harshly out of the car. He almost tripped himself with his feet, he was still in no condition to stand straight or see straight because of the glaring sun or maybe because of his damned hang over.

The gods really loves me. I wonder what good deed I did today... I was only sleeping for all I know.

The chauffeur ran back to the driver's seat like a mad dog. In a minute the car was ripping through the dusty street like it was being chased by the plague, leaving Yzak in his forsaken state of mind and body with his luggage beside him and the innocent letters fluttering through the breeze. The abandoned young heir of the Joule family bended low to pick up the escaping mail then flicked off the dust that smudged the pristine white envelope.

"Deranged old man... This fucked up letter better explain everything or else you are not going to get your retirement pay!" shouted at particularly at no one, Yzak began ripping the envelope's top with the one his name was attached to, he furiously read the letter, once, twice. His head pounded once again along with his heart was, his eyesight becoming blurry.

Reading the letter once again, seizing in slowly the words written in a beautiful script, without erasure or ink spills. So very elegant and formal, just like mother.

My ever dearest son,

What can a Mother got to do to mend your ways, Yzak? I am heartbroken and completely tired that you not only go home late every night but also drunk. No amount of reprimand can I give to change you and your ways. I know you love to party or, socialize as you term it, with Dearka. Never had I imagined you to be involved in brawls and scuffles, I did not give birth to you to be a street fighter or a drunkard, no less. You're so young and promising. I don't understand why you do these things...

This has got to stop. This is making you and I miserable and I don't know how to help you because your temper and impatience leaves me no room to speak. And so I have no choice to get you away from the root of all your vices, the city, and let you learn to live modestly in the countryside and experience peace for a while.

Find Leon Hahnenfuss, the owner of the Hahnenfuss Acres and give him the letter, he will understand and will know what he has to do to help you. I hope that your father's close friend can help you mend your ways Yzak. Take care of yourself for me and until you cannot live rightly I will not get you back, understand? So please if you love your mother and you want her to live until the end of her days in peace, please go back to the practical and loving Yzak.

Yzak, I love you and I will definitely miss you. Don't even think of coming home because no one is at the mansion.

With much love in my heart,

Mother

With no words to describe his jumbled feelings, he sat down on the luggage and looked up to the sky. His head was still bothering him with the constant twitching plus the occasional double vision and boy, was he feeling famished and in despair. Clutching his throbbing head in his hand, "I never knew there will come a day that Mother will finally get the courage to send me away." A short sarcastic laugh departed from his lips.

Standing up calmly, feeling rage kick up in his veins, he lashed out on his luggage so hard it flew a few meters and stopped short a few inches from a bush of pink azaleas. Looking at the sign nailed on the gate, 'Hahnenfuss Acres'

"Well, isn't that lucky? Next time I get lost, I'll kick my luggage again, who needs GPS." Yzak alleged in a mocking tone. Clutching the letter in his right hand he pushed open the gate and walked into the place he will have to bear and put up for.

-to be continued-