Telemachus looked out at the sea, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The wind blew through his brown hair, and his brown eyes narrowed as he searched for something, anything, that might indicate his father's return.

"Father," he spoke aloud, his voice carried by the breeze. "It's been twenty years. What is taking you so long? We've still no king, we need y—" He was cut off as he heard footsteps coming from behind him. Has someone overheard him? "Huh..?"