《Cursed Era》


 Chapter 1: a dream

    Cobbled streets, jam packed with shadowy forms, ascension capsules going up and down in the buildings around them. I feel like I was in one myself, going up and then down, then up and down again in a dizzying and endless repetition, but still crushed between the men and women in the streets around me.


    Nothing really makes sense. The sky is dark, a tapestry of stars that shine brightly and then dim and repeat. With each pulse, new will and emotion changing the world I''m in.


    Another pulse and I find myself on the shores of a lake, water crashing on the banks beneath my feet.


    There is rain falling all around me, heavy and wet. I look up at it and feel sadness but also caring and comfort.


    Then, the lake rises, like a giant wave, or an emerging flood. But I don''t feel alarm as its surface swallows me, bubbles dancing in the darkness, the last vestige that I was ever in that world.


    I struggle to escape the current, but am caught in the crushing weight of the undertow. I need to get back to the safe place I was in, but there is no more strength in my ethereal limbs, no more will in my fading mind, only new direction.


    The bottom of the lake is shifting sand, or maybe the tremors are caused by an earthquake. A fissure swallows me, and then, just as I fear my end is nigh, a searing pain burns life across my skin and bursts of sound pound against my mind, raw like a cold shower''s blast. All memory of comfort will never again be the same.


    I manage to open my eyes. Weren''t my eyes open earlier?


    The city haze, all its bright glory amidst the buildings and streets, a solid sheet of occulting whiteness is now in front of me.


    "Gaaaaagrrgr"


    I try to stop gurgling, but how do you switch off nozzles again? Wasn''t there supposed to be a switch? I was going to choke. Help!


    Panic fades as before me, slowly, mysterious lines become a meaningful smile as I trace them with blinking eyes.


    But soon even memories of visage are replaced by the unfamiliarity of internal discomfort.


    I feel so... hungry?


    "Gaa, gaa, gaa"


    Cramps in my stomach clench and unclench and strange sounds come from somewhere. I wonder if I hit my head. My skin is all tingly.


    I jolt stiff, something I just thought... hitting my head... something important. But I can''t remember.


    Ah, my stomach, my throat.


    The world shakes and then the bright haze blurs as I''m brought down to rest on something soft, something beating.


    Then my mind is invaded by the sweetness that flows from the soft yet hard button placed to my mouth.


    I float up above the soft cotton clouds. I am a butterfly fluttering about, splashing hither and thither in the sweet, delicious nectars of the dryad of the trees.


    Oh, of the nectar from which I drink in this melodious plot of beechen green. Let it not end, let me taste the flora with my purple stained proboscis.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The world bobs from side to side.


    "Gaaaaaa."


    From time to time, I catch myself drooling, gross. Gross, hmm, gross.


    "Grooooossse."


    Funny word gross. Nice body to it, almost a rumble, oh no, rumble... not again.


    "Ughkuku."


    A grunting and splooshing seem to happen in concert but then my whole body shakes and more sounds erupt. But what is this pleasant sense of accomplishment?


    "Ugii?!"


    Spare me, no more. I just want more sweet squeezes and ripples.


    Ripples! Those calming, concentric circles that cover the water of life that flow in the burbling stream.


    A feeling of discomfort suddenly overpowers that stickiness left on my behind.


    "Nnngghhaaaaaaaa-?"


    A wail bursts out as suddenly as it halted and the world starts bobbing in yet another direction.


    No. Not the world, the giant face of the goddess above.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Sout, sout, are not esseis mou pretty morow. Mama here, sout, sout."


    The goddess who held me whenever I awoke was dark haired. She is beautiful, like the sun and a stream and mountains and...


    Something intensely animalistic lights me in joy whenever her visage smiles down on me.


    The sounds she makes sometimes seem to tickle at me.


    Overlapping with her face, I see others, so different, that pop into existence where nothing but air was before.


    They are different from the goddess, with fairer faces and white coloured hair. They speak a different language than the goddess too, one that seems so much more familiar. If only they had her divine smile and comforting hands.


    The other faces want to tell me something, teach me their secrets. Their whispers are sometimes like the goddess''s but different in cadence, as if adding harmonies or cacophonies to the goddess''s simple tone.


    Then, as suddenly as they appear, the white haired spectres vanish and I''m left with just the goddess, smiling down at me.


    Was it a week or a day? I don''t remember sleeping.


    Not all at once, but with each blink, touch, or bump, meaning trickles slowly into me.


    I reach out a chubby hand and try to grab at that meaning, but it eludes me.


    Where are my wings, and the beechen tree?


    Eyes constantly swapping between faces and fantasy, I live each day learning bits and pieces from each until my more rational thoughts are overridden by biological urges and imperatives.


    I live in a wilful body that sometimes feels like it owns itself instead of being owned by me.


    I''m not gurgling anymore, or baaing and gaaing, I''m not a bleating sheep, well, I can''t guarantee it though.


    As time goes on, I start to control excretions to some extent, and call for the goddess more eloquently when stomach cramps or a raspy throat wars with consciousness for control of my mind.


    Fortunately, instinct wills me towards comfort and comfort, my body is not always better at providing. Sometimes it will give way to my gentle pleas, allowing my rational sense with my body to meld.


    Watching again one of the spectral faces emerge beside the goddess, I hear the secret it whispers to me.


    Morow... baby.


    The words are different but the same. I realise, in that moment of epiphany. I am a baby.


    The goddess''s pretty baby. Or as she says, "mou pretty morow."


    A moment of enlightenment seeps into my being, yet another foothold for the thinking me.


    But a moment later, the other me triumphs, seeing its treat above.


    Ripples! And liquid nectar!


    Oh, gods help me, but I have a rumbling stomach.


    ... for more than one reason. Yuck.


    Maybe one day, I shall restore my authority over where I piss and shit.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    A simple touch of hands on me can set my heart on fire with delight. A scrape of changing linens can make me cry in loud complaint.


    Even as I see the goddess walk or lay beside me, when I try to imitate, my limbs just splay.


    But instead of being frustrated at my lack of control, I''m just happy that now, at least, my head is free. I can look around and smile too.


    As time passes, the air that used to be so cold grows warmer against my skin. Sometimes, I feel it''s too warm. I push my hands out and turn myself, to find the cold spots on my bed.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "Kiii" I squeal as the other one pinches me again.


    Other than the goddess there is a second real face that will not fade away.


    It is the face of whispers and giggles and nose pokes.


    Today she pinches my hand and waves it up and down, smiling, like the younger white haired mischief who fades into the air beside her.


    All the visions and immaterial faces have white hair, while the goddess and this sister have black.


    She came again, bringing me nearer her face. Black hair swept over her shoulder, giving me purchase to grab and climb with.


    She didn''t like that, swatting my hand away.


    Her other hand under my bum, she abandons the speech both the goddess and the white haired folk to baa and gaa and bubuuu back at me.


    As she puts me back and I watch her turn away, I wonder when I''ll be able to see where it is she goes. How long will it be before I can stand upright and not just grab my toes?


    But for now, until I can stand, for yet another day, I''ll roll and fart and with the goddess and angel play.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Pick up! Pick up!" I shout innocently, holding my hands up to the angel.


    It felt like all eternity had passed, and yet even now, my legs don''t support my weight, nor my mind my thoughts. Where I stand, I fall and where I listen with my ear, I ache my head.


    But I''m bigger now, and more sane too.


    Not only can I listen now to the faces, both permanent and immaterial, speak, but I can now make my own meaningful sounds.


    Broken words and simple phrases stitched together from both the faces with black hair and white.


    Unfortunately, not only is my vocabulary mostly holes, but whenever I want to say something, I forget which words to use, face hard decisions over which of possible words with a meaning and sometimes am left as confused as who I''m talking to when all I can think of is meaningless gibberish instead.


    Fortunately, my goddess and angel are forgiving, responding in slow spoken questions, tickles or my own made up babbling to me.


    My mother, I correct myself, now knowing who the goddess is.


    "Pick up!" I repeat.


    It''s not mother, but the angel who bends down to embrace me, and then swoops me into the sky, to plop me belly down on her shoulder.


    "You little tarachopoios. You just want a snuggle, don''t you." The maid whispers impishly. I only missed one word that time, I note in satisfaction. She hadn''t called me tara-nachos before.


    As she turns around, my head still on her shoulder, I see behind her a basket. From here, so high, it seems so small, but that place, until now, was all the world to me.


    As she moves, I watch the familiar window and room behind.


    As the door closes behind us, a white haired figure appears just inside. Something about his smile sends goosebumps rippling across my skin as it dabs at its clothes with a small polkadot handkerchief.


    "Aah!"


    A loud whining spooks me further, along with the shutting door.


    "Whati traichey? Why are you crying?"


    I cling to the angel''s neck as she tries to hold me up and bounce me up and down.


    The smirk of that angular faced phantom triggered feelings I never knew to boil up within me. But they are feelings that come reflexively, making me whine and snarl.


    "Ow, Tilly!" The angel says and I know I did bad by biting her shoulder.


    "Aaah!" I cry, not knowing how to say sorry.


    Snuu


    My nose sniffles as the raging emotion cools and turns to snot and snivel.


    "Okayltera now? You want to go exapo, right?"


    I shake my head, not wanting to go back to the room where the smirking phantom could still be waiting behind the door.


    I rub at my eyes with balled up fists and chase away the gooeys while the angel waits, and then finally turns around and only the stairs remain in my bobbing sight.


    Not long after, the angel brings me to the great beneath the big blue. Above us it stretches, white fluffs breezing through. I tried to look towards the ball of brightness, but my eyes close shut and a stinging appears behind my eyes, a new pain making me forget all about the one from just moments before.


    I squirm to get rid of the unpleasant hurt and my angel shouts catching me in her arms.


    She shouldn''t be so clumsy. I am all of maybe the size and the weight of a pumpkin, so my angel should be able to carry me around no problem.


    As she taps me and moves me around on her shoulder, I notice her face turn red, and giggle at my angel''s new colour.


    "Cianna vis quirios," she bobs up and down and I bob up and down with her. I turn my head away from the door we had just come out of towards whoever is in front of her.


    "Ivian," my mother responds, "and my little pumpkin," she pats my still bald head.


    See? I really was a pumpkin. She just said so, didn''t she? What do you mean, wipe that silly grin off my face?


    I feel good again, as mother is here and the pain recedes from behind my eyes.


    Then, a whisper reaches me, a half forgotten memory of trauma to the head.


    The world shifts within me and without, mother and the angel suddenly gone, disappearing as usually only the white haired figures do.


    Instead of mother, there is yet another of the faces with angular curves.


    I''m not sure why some of the white haired faces look different, unlike mother and the angel, they have hair growing out of their chin or sharper lines framing a grin.


    This one does not make me angry, like the one upstairs, but instead, his smile is a whisper of fear.


    Around us, the world is changed.


    I can no longer see the big beneath the big blue, the trees or the stone of home behind me.


    Here, all is made of pure whites and greys. Transparent cups, shaped as thin as a finger, countertops, smooth and white and long. A hard light fills the air, unlike the sun that just a moment ago burned my eyes.


    The angular face spoke in a deep and serious voice, "I am impressed that you have progressed so far in a theory to reconfigure the pristine runes. Perhaps your theory might even make it possible."


    Each word he spoke seemed familiar and filled with meaning, but like a meaning that was just out of reach.


    Pausing, the figure shrugged its shoulders. His gesture seemed to say ''it can''t be helped''.


    "The problem is those results are not the ones I need."


    "Then what..." a voice, to my surprise, came out of me. I was speaking in the language of the white haired ghosts.


    "To make pristine runes, the results already stand before me," the figure''s eyes looked me up and down, "Let me share a secret with you. There is no such thing as time magic."


    "Do it!" the figure barked, just before a wave of pain flooded my head.


    "Troma, troma," I shout my fear and discoveries to a smiling Ivian, as mother named my angel.


    But Ivian didn''t understand that something was wrong. She just seemed happy to pinch my cheeks.


    "Not troma, mama," she told me, her not understanding making me mad.


    "Not mama, troma!" I argued, but she just sighed.


    Why did she sigh? It was me who should be sighing! Why didn''t Ivian know what I meant?


    My mother just smiled at us and walked away. She was going back into the house.


    I stared longingly over Ivian''s shoulder and wondered why mother wouldn''t stay with us.


    As mother opened the door to the house, I saw a dress beside her, fluttering in an unfelt breeze.


    "Ah! Mama!" I shouted, as a hollow fear pressed into my stomach, the fluttering figure turning around to leave and never reappear.


    No, it wouldn''t be like that, I told myself. Mother was not the same as the disappearing white haired ghosts, she would come back. And I had Ivian right with me.


    Mama would come back, right?


    "Aww, don''t cry, Tilly." I don''t cry. "Let''s go see your lord father."


    "Lard barber!" I repeated, the words meaningless to me.


    The land is bright. There is a full sun in the sky, vivid colours in the hedges that tower over the maid''s head to each side of the dirt path.


    The air smells of pine and something else good. Overpowering them both, however, is the smell of thick smoke. A bend around the road reveals it to come from a big wooden barrel.


    There, a black haired person, the second I see with an angular face and a beard, is sitting on a log, tossing scraps of wood from a bucket full of water into a giant candle underneath the smoking barrel.


    "Energy of flame," a new figure with white hair speaks only to me. "One of the simplest energies a mage might conjure."


    A mage, I think, is what bearded, angular faced people are called.


    The white haired mage talking has a beard that flows down from his face all the way to his waist. He waves his hand and behind him, symbols appear jumbled in the air.


    "Like the other two known consumption magics, pestilence and life, it destroys certain types of matter to sustain itself, completely independent of mana. But it is also like the corrosive magics, acids or decay. Like them, it leaves a poisonous bi-product behind. Be careful, both to avoid its burn and to prevent it form escaping thy control."


    "What''s the mage doing?" I ask Ivian.


    "The maju?" Ivian asks me back. "You mean the man? That''s old Mr. Barker. He''s kapnozing some of the meat from the quineegi."


    Hmm, was a mage here called a man?


    "Mmh, I''m getting hungry just looking at it." Ivian lifts me from one shoulder to the other, "it''s a bit noris for you, but maybe you should start eating semolina soon. You''re so big already, asking questions so egsipnotically!"


    "Mmh," I repeat. It smells good if Ivian says it smells good. I want to eat semolina. Is that what was in the barrel?


    "Come, let''s stop thinking of food and go welcome your lord father back."


    A voice cheers from behind big and creaky wooden doors. "A good one, Saul, we''ll make a ipotis of you yet."


    "Thank you Quirios Feles. I''ll take to heart your encouragement during proponisi."


    Ivian stops a few feet from the stables and calls out, "Quirios Feles, brave ipotists of the fief, welcome home."


    The boisterous exchanges from the stable stop and the door is opened by another mage in ugly clothing. Or at least, I think it''s a mage, but he has no beard. Maybe a man isn''t a mage, but they aren''t men and not mages.


    I ponder to reveal deep truths through experience.


    As the door opens, a smell of poop and grass and something else surround me.


    I rest my head against Ivian''s bosom as she holds me in arm to show to the man in front of us.


    The man smiles and walks a few steps forward, but waits for a slightly older man to walk out. Ivian bobs up and down again.


    "My lord."


    I had seen the quirios before. Quirios was another word for lord, I think. He was there with the goddess, mother that is, in some of my waking dreams.


    Short hair frames his severe face that looks at us with but a thin smile.


    "Ivian," he spoke, "my son."


    Is this really the same bright voice we heard in the stables? Is that all he had to say? Doesn''t he know I''m a pumpkin that needs a pat on the head to grow up big and strong?


    I stare at my father silently, as we walk back home.


    When he and his man strip off the metallic arm bands and chest clothes they were wearing, I scrunch my nose at the smell of leather and sweat.


    Despite my father''s seemingly cold demeanour, as he walks in, he melts in mother''s company. They briefly hold hands before he goes around the back of the manor. Probably to have a bath, like the ones mother or Ivian give me.


    Meanwhile, Ivian whispers sweet things in my ears while she brings me up the stairs to change into a miniature shirt complete with lace around the neck and frilly cuffs.


    "I talked to Cianna vis quirios gi a food, and she even said you could smigo at the althousa."


    All these random gibberish words were somewhat annoying. Why didn''t the white haired ghosts have anything to say when it would be useful?


    If only I could understand instead of this endless guessing. Cianna vis quirios was what Ivian called mother earlier? Why did she need two names?


    I continued to listen but only with half-hearted attention.


    I was keen on eating though. As much as my body yearned to suckle, I knew from the scenes of the white haired men and women, that grown ups didn''t have their mother''s milk. Then again, the ghosts told me that mother''s milk was best for babies so I felt conflicted. Can''t always get straight answers.


    The dining table was shaped like a shield.


    At the tapered end sat my father, and to his left, my mother. Ivian held me to mother''s left and seemed to be sitting very straight.


    My father smelled much better now, and was dressed in a much nicer tunic. I wonder what happened to the other man.


    "Is it really proper to have our son at the table already?" My father expressed disapproval to my mother, but she waved down his protests.


    "Well, it is true that 4 months is a bit early..." Mother said, scrunching her eyebrow as she looked towards me. "Perhaps we should wait a few more weeks."


    I was curious about all the new things and the dining room, but didn''t really pay attention to what they were talking about until a beautiful light painted the room in a new kaleidoscope of colour.


    No, not a light, it was a man. What he was carrying on a big silver plate. It was not a colour at all, but something I innately felt curious about, bringing new feelings and flushing my cheeks.


    "Ah," I opened my mouth and looked back and forth between mother and the man I had never seen before bringing yummies for all.


    "Tilly? I think maybe we should wait-" mother started to tell me, but I felt words leap to my mouth, so fluently, unlike the usual hesitance with which I translated between the white haired and black haired gibberish.


    "No, me too, pleazpleazpleazpleaz??"


    I grew anxious as the man lay down slices of something that smelled oddly like the kapnozing from earlier on outside. It was browner outside than the pink interior and seemed smoked or charred.


    At the same time as my calculating self whispered that smoke was toxic and that I shouldn''t eat it, my stomach dismissed those concerns, until an unlikely resolution was lain down in front of me.


    "Here Tilly, I went to get you a bowl of semolina." My angel spoke, a white-yellow cream in a small bowl that looked neither toxic nor any less appetising.


    "Ivian!" I think someone said, but it was too late. I was burning my tongue on semolina for the first time.


    But as I ate my semolina, my eyes kept darting to the plates and jaws of mother''s repast. Maybe I could stomach something so smelly after all, it looked juicy too. Ivian said she got hungry just looking at it. I think I now understood why.

 Chapter 2: Ivian

    "Iviaaan, toileeet," I looked up from the window to shout for Ivian''s help.


    Ever since the first day I''d seen Mr. Barker kapnozing meat in the yard, I had been curious about the man. Some time had passed now, and Ivian finally agreed to bring me a chair, so that I could sit by the window and peek over the sill.


    I used the window to look at the fields and sky, but mostly to keep track of Mr. Barker''s shenanigans. He was the best entertainer around.


    For better or for worse, I had already eaten semolina twice today, even though it wasn''t even lunch time yet. And actions have consequences.


    "Oops, there we go," Ivian held me up from under the arms and then settled me against her shoulder. "You really are special aren''t you. I told Grita about you the other day when she came to check if everything was well and she said she''d never heard of a baby as incredible as you."


    "I was there." I reminded her. Grita was the village midwife who came to poke me last week. So rude.


    "Oh my, there you go again, you little troublemaker", taranachos meant troublemaker, I had found out, "Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?"


    "Noo," well, yes, but how could I not? I can''t move or leave, so how can I not overhear what you say about me right in front of where I am?


    "Ivian, sorry." I added, just to make sure I stayed on her good side. I''d be pretty helpless without my caretaker beauty Ivian. I felt blessed to be born into a household where Ivian lived devoted just to looking after me.


    "What a gentleman."


    "Uughie," I shook my head as she pinched my nose.


    "There we go." The chamber pot was in my small bedroom just next door to Ivian''s where I had been watching from the window.


    "Just tell me if you need me to move you around, okay?" She said as she held me from under the arms over the porcelain bowl.


    It was now a couple weeks since I''d started with the chamber pot.


    Eight months of wet linen eternity was far too long when I would keep on having sensations of wrongness and keep on seeing squatting people on big water filled bowls flash through my mind.


    Not so long ago, it had all fallen into place when Ivian had rushed us into the house and left me in my crib as she ran to use the chamber pot in her own adjacent room, the door left open in her hurry. I stood up to look in curiosity, wondering if something was wrong, and even though it was hard to see, the spectral images filled in the blanks and I realised that I didn''t have to have stinky linens.


    So whenever I felt that a big one was coming, I''d call Ivian and she''d only be too happy to chaperone me.


    I don''t even want to imagine what it''s like for most families.


    Even so, I had two big problems.


    One was that I had to anticipate. Maybe I had some terrible disease, since I couldn''t hold it in.


    Nighttime was still a time of uncomfortable rumblings. I didn''t even wake up, it just seemed to happen... So my mornings still bring with them inevitably dirty linens and sometimes even an itchy rash.


    My second problem, was my legs. They weren''t good for anything yet. I couldn''t even crouch over the pot on my own.


    Maybe sometime, I would be able to go by myself. But, as it is, my legs and arms are only just flexible enough to crawl now, let alone squat.


    Crawl a couple meters before my knees and elbows start to hurt, not to mention the small range of movement that made it difficult to go anywhere at a reasonable speed.


    All in due time, I guess. I''ll be a big kid sometime.


    At least I can use the chamber pot during the daytime.


    "Now, let''s go wash you up."


    Ivian said, lifting me once the rumblings receded.


    "Ivian," I mustered some courage. "I can wash up now, let me!"


    The words still didn''t come out as well as other people spoke them, either the solid or wispy ones.


    "Wow, you''re so grown up, my little lordling." Ivian said in that tone that I had always thought meant she was happy with me, until I started learning sarcasm from the images.


    Why didn''t my angel believe me?


    I tried to wriggle out of her hands and crawl towards the basin, but was swooped into my angel''s inescapable arms.


    I closed my eyes and tried to get past the next few unpleasant minutes of splashing water and embarrassing contact without a single thought passing through my mind.


    Soon enough, I was back at the window. This time Ivian had me sit on her knee so that we could both look outside.


    "Mr. Barker''s cleaning the cousina this morning," Ivian told me. "Look at all the ashes from the hearth."


    You might think it would be a bit boring to watch an old man heap up ash into a pile, but it gave me lots to think about.


    I now knew a man was father or Saul, anyone who didn''t have soft features like mother or Ivian. So I was again convinced that Mr. Barker was a mage.


    Like the white haired mages in my dreams, he was always busy doing experiments and he even had a thing for fire.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Even now, Ivian said he was making all sorts of ashes in the cousina. That means he was playing with fire! And fire is magical energy, that''s what the lecture man had been saying.


    Maybe the cousina is Mr. Barker''s laboratory?


    I stared at him from one meal to the next and to the next after that, until I couldn''t hold my curiosity back anymore.


    "Ivian, why so much ashes?"


    "Hm? You''re still looking at Mr. Barker cleaning?" Ivian looked up from where she was changing the sheets in my cradle. "Well, the cousina is where we make your semolina and meals for your parents and maids like me as well."


    "Maillard!" I shouted, showing off my knowledge of making food. I could see someone cooking right in front of me. The white haired man was putting the food through a magic stone powered heat normalisation apparatus to give the food a standard maillard all throughout. Yum.


    "Maiyard!" Ivian squealed back at me with a smile. "You''re so funny Tilly. Are you interested in the kitchens or not?"


    And here I was pretty pleased with myself. I guess maillard was just one of the white haired people''s words.


    I was thoroughly confused now. If the cousina wasn''t Mr. Barker''s lab, but the kitchens, then why was there so much ash? Wasn''t that dangerous?


    The lecturing mage said that the flame energy was like the acid spells, leaving a corrosive and toxic ash behind.


    Talking about kitchens made me hungry, so Ivian brought me some more semolina to ponder over. It seemed they made this over the fire too.


    Ivian told me that semolina was the heart of the wheat.


    Unlike the meat and vegetables that were often served to my parents, the semolina was cooked evenly in a kind of paste they called porridge. I guess even on a fire, you could cook things evenly as long as you could stir.


    Nevertheless, Mr. Barker was surely still a mage. Maybe he didn''t have his own lab yet, but there had to be someone who could summon the fires. I would have to ask Ivian if she could take me sometime. I bet I could learn so much in the kitchen.


    After my meal, I looked out again at Mr. Barker who switched tasks.


    Now, he was now rolling over a barrel on its rim. He liked barrels, used them for all sorts of things.


    But there was another thing that caught my attention, it was a little bird with a worm in its beak. Animals that seemed familiar somehow to me, except for the hook to its beak and the green and yellow stripes on the worm that both seemed strange to me for some reason.


    But the bird flew off after gulping down its treat and I looked back at Mr. Barker who had begun carefully measuring out the ash he had collected from the kitchens and throwing it inside the barrel on top of rocks and straw.


    I watched attentively, wondering what he was up to next. How many things could Mr. Barker think up to use the useless, corrosive by-product of fire for?


    Mr. Barker then brought over another barrel filled with water. He poured water into the barrel and then it slowly started to drip out the bottom into a pail below.


    I watched Mr. Barker pour pail after pail of water into the ash barrel, over and over again.


    ... Over and over, until I was woken up by Ivian.


    "Did you have a good nap, Tilly?"


    I looked up and thought I saw Ivian''s head roll upside down. I felt a bit dazed still seeing all that repetitive work. Mr. Barker should use spells more. I want to see something more exciting next time.


    In the end, I didn''t figure out what he was trying to do.


    "Our little troublemaker is so quiet today," Ivian picked me up and then put me on a sofa chair and started tickling me all over. I hated when she did that. "You were making me so worried, looking out the window all day. Don''t you want to play with the doll Lady Cianna gave you?"


    Lady Cianna was mother. And father was Quirios Feles or Lord Feles. Though sometimes, Ivian would use the words lord and lady instead, which produced more flickers of ideas and images on the edge of my thoughts, but only as titles relating to a great monarch and his family.


    I didn''t understand why Ivian was so formal with mother and father. Were they relatives of the king?


    "Hahahaha," why did I feel happy when she tickled me so dreadfully? I wriggled around until it stopped.


    ¡°What are you taking your time thinking about it for. You either like him or you don¡¯t.¡±


    "Mmh, I like Semolina, but I sleep with him every night, so why play any more?"


    Semolina was the name I gave the doll that looked a bit like a rabbit. Like a rabbit, except for the big horn on its head and two red jewels it had for eyes. Not creepy at all.


    Why did I call him Semolina? Well, I was eating at the time. I had my priorities.


    It wasn''t that I disliked the doll though. After getting him from mother, I would always go to sleep more peacefully, snuggled up to my red eyed friend.


    But during the day, there wasn''t much time to play. There was Mr. Barker to watch, images to learn from, and, most of all, I wanted to get stronger and smarter so that I could make things easier for Ivian.


    "I''m glad you''re you." Ivian said, making me smile. "My niece could only speak a word at a time before she was 2, but you''re already talking to me like a proper gentleman."


    "Niece?" I asked innocently. She was talking about a little person like me. I totally wasn''t feeling jealous.


    "Hmm? Yes, Evrolina. I used to go help take care of her while my sister helped in the bakery. That was before you were born and I was brought to meet Lady Cianna. I love my niece to pieces, but a little genius like you is so much easier to take care of."


    She looked at me with a rotten smile, "I know, instead of a doll, maybe you are ready to have a little girlfriend."


    No thank you, definitely not, bad idea, stop, stop.


    "I already have Ivian!" I shouted.


    "Heheheeh. See? My lordling already knows how to talk to a girl," Ivian enjoyed herself at my expense. "You really are a little wonder. I wonder what secrets you''re hiding."


    I don''t think she was asking me, but maybe this was the right time to talk about this.


    "Ivian... um..." I squirmed in, "did Evrolina see them too?"


    I flinched as Ivian''s smile collapsed into a frown. Perhaps I shouldn''t have said that.


    "See who?"


    Even without talking to others, I somehow knew the images were something wrong.


    Whenever they appeared, mother and Ivian wouldn''t even see them. And sometimes, they wouldn''t even really be somewhere, just sticking to my vision as I rolled around.


    I once even tried to poke them when they were in my pillow, but there was nothing but pillow beneath my hand and then they disappeared.


    I thought that it was just something all babies had, to help learn the ways of the world. But sometimes I would see babies flicker by with ghostly parents, somehow less attentive, speaking baby gibberish and bleating like lambs even though they looked bigger than me. Sometimes the white haired and black haired people were very different, but maybe black haired babies didn''t see them either.


    "Tilly? Who is them?" There was a hint of worry in her tone as she repeated herself.


    "It''s a bit like, when I touch things, or taste things, sometimes when I see Mr. Barker do things outside the window, they suddenly appear. They tell me things, usually, though sometimes I don''t understand."


    Ivian was smiling again now, but it wasn''t her usual smile. There was something about her eyes. I could tell she was worried.


    "That was a mighty big sentence, Tilly. You''re not repeating your mother... no, you''re not..."


    "Evrolina doesn''t see them too?" I tried again, but silence was my confirmation.


    Okay, shut up now.


    "Tilly?" Ivian smiled a bit scarily, "don''t tell anyone what you just said, okay?" I wanted to nod along with Ivian, but I was hesitating.


    "What about mother?" I asked.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll talk to Lady Cianna tonight. Everything is going to be alright."


    "What do you mean alright? Did something bad happen?"


    "Tilly, nothing bad happened yet. Don''t worry."


    I didn''t know why I saw and knew what I did, but I didn''t think it was a bad thing. If I didn''t have the phantoms to guide me, I don''t even want to think howhelpless I would have been.


    But it wasn''t normal. That''s why I told Ivian about it in the first place.


    Could she be right? Was something bad going to happen to me?


    Ivian suddenly hugged me tightly.


    As the seeds of panic started to grow within me, I got the feeling Ivian was really really bad at calming other people down. But what could I do? I just had to hope Ivian and mother would know.

 Chapter 3: ghosts

    That night, I was awoken by hushed voices coming from the hallway. I was still drowsy and I cried out, a bit scared at the strange noises in the dark.


    But then I jumped, startled, when a man ran into the room through the wall and furtively looked around before grabbing a painting of meaningless splotches of colours that had not been there before.


    A moment later, he faded away and a girl popped up beside my cradle telling an invisible audience of a story of a ghost that haunts a cemetery on nights of the new moon.


    I was spooked as both of the white haired characters disappeared from the room and I was still left with the mystery of the voices from beyond the door.


    I started to cry, quite unexpectedly. It was the last thing I wanted to do, afraid the ghosts and thieves would hear, but my stomach clenched up and my eyes were dowsed in tears and then thinking about the apparitions just made me cry all the harder.


    A door creaked open and I closed my eyes, my body finally going quiet.


    "Tilly, are you awake?" My mother whispered right on top of me, putting her hand on my forehead as I shuddered in relief.


    Both Ivian and mother had rushed into the dark room and hushed me. I felt some comfort return.


    But really, how could I not be awake? You were just patting my head to stop me crying.


    "I''m awake, mother," I responded meekly and then hopefully, "hug?"


    "There we go," Mother picked me up, "Don''t cry, okay? Mother and Ivian are here with you."


    "Shh," Ivian added as I still hiccuped a bit from uneasiness about ghosts or thieves.


    I felt my eyes hover shut as mother and Ivian''s voices comforted me. It was only a moment in the warmth of mother''s arms before I forgot what it was that had been the problem.


    "Umnyumnyumm," I licked the back of my teeth as mother put me down. I had fallen asleep in her arms and didn''t know how long had passed.


    She caressed my cheek with her hand and I squinted my eyes open.


    "Do you remember what you told Ivian about what you see?" She asked and I woke up again to think.


    "Uh-huh?"


    "Can you tell mama as well?" She peered over the side of the crib, her long hair almost within hands'' reach beside me.


    The word ''ghosts'' popped into my head. Is that what they were? They appeared and disappeared, and had pale faces and hair.


    "Ghosts..."


    I mumbled, as I thought about it a bit more.


    They weren''t really there, in the room with us.


    It was almost as if they were in my eyes, behind them even. I could even see them if I closed my eyes, still there in their colourful clothes.


    "Sometimes... they appear," I started to explain, "they whisper new words and ideas, they show me how to change."


    They were more than just images, more than just ghosts. They seemed to be recollections almost like memories.


    "Today, I saw that I should use the chamber pot by myself, but I''m not sure how without Ivian holding me... And then there''s Mr. Barker too. He was doing something strange today, pouring water over the ashes. I know about the ashes, from the other people. They are from flame energy, a corrosive bi-product."


    Now that I was telling mother, Mr. Barker really did seem to be doing something suspicious. Was he making a poison?


    "Hush, hush," mother picked me up and bobbed me up and down. "It''s alright."


    She seemed to know instinctively that I was worried about something. Maybe I can ask about it.


    "Is Mr. Barker making a poison? Is he doing something bad?"


    Mother stopped bobbing me up and down. I looked up through eyelashes and saw her and Ivian looking right at each other.


    Then her stomach started laughing, but she was trying not to make any sounds.


    "No, no. Mr. Barker isn''t doing anything bad, he''s making lye, uh, sabouni, the white bubbles that we scrub you with in the bath."


    I didn''t know what lye was, nor sabouni, but I''m guess it means soap, from how it sounds. Aren''t ashes dirty though? And consumptive too, like acids. It didn''t make sense, I''d have to go check on this more sometime.


    Ivian then asked, "Tilly, what is [poison]?"


    Didn''t Ivian know what poison was?


    "It''s bad," sometimes you had to explain things in really simple terms. I felt mother''s chest tremble against me with a quiet laugh.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Maybe that was too simple, "poison is bad for you. If you drink it you could die, and some poisons can consume, like acids or fire."


    Mother stopped laughing. "Dilitirio, you mean?"


    Oops, it was me who had the wrong word... Sorry Ivian.


    "Do you know what dying is?" Mother asked softly.


    "Yeah, dying is," I thought over it a moment, "well, I think it''s when you stop."


    As I spoke another memory resurfaced. An older woman, lying down in her bed. She was sleeping, but she was not. She wouldn''t get up again.


    "The sabouni won''t kill you. And Ivian and I won''t let anything happen to you either," My mother whispered, perhaps worried about what I knew.


    "Ivian," my mother called my maid softly while I was thinking this very important question over. "We should call shaman Ikstoff tomorrow. We need to find out if the-, if it somehow affected Tilly."


    "Sorry to wake you up Tilly. Mother and Ivian will go to bed now." Mother kissed my forehead and put me back in the cradle.


    I didn''t want to be like the woman I just saw in the deep sleep before she faded away.


    I wouldn''t die as well, would I? I wanted to see Ivian and mother again tomorrow.


    I had a lot to think about, but it kept slipping my mind. Death''s brother, sleep, embraced me.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    In the morning, Ivian brought me downstairs and held me on her knee as I helped myself to breakfast with my parents.


    I ate 6 times a day, which would have made me feel piggish if I ate more than a tiny bowl of watery semolina. It definitely got easier this past month with the semolina, both for me and mother.


    "Sivis, I am going to call the shaman to the manor today," mother told father who looked at her in surprise.


    "The shaman? Is there something wrong? I thought the curse was dispelled after tilvrade?"


    What was tilvrade? And when did it happen?


    I attentively listened to catch any more of this story my parents were revealing.


    "No, it is not me, I haven''t noticed anything. I want to make sure though, that tilvrade isn''t affected."


    "Tilvrade? How would he be affected?" My father looked at me, his eyes holding some worry.


    I felt my heart leap. Did this man of apathy actually care more about me than he let on?


    Wait, both of them are looking right at me... Tilvrade, Tilly, is that me?


    I looked up at Ivian questioningly, but she just squeezed my hand and blew on the spoonful of semolina that I had forgotten.


    So I looked up at father as I continued eating, attentively trying to capture what he was saying about me.


    "I am not sure. As you are aware, your son is very precocious." Mother said hesitantly.


    "You have given me a good son, Cianna. I look forward to bringing him to the yard in a few years."


    "Yes dear," mother agreed blandly. "Since we have a wonderful boy after all we feared, I just want to make sure he is growing up healthily."


    "Very well."


    I giggled, looking straight at father all the while. I was a wonderful boy, a good son. Maybe he would give me a hug too?


    Father just glanced over me and frowned though. I wiped off my smile and averted my gaze towards my porridge again.


    "Uh, my lord, my lady," Ivian spoke from her seat. "Might I also request to bring my niece Evrolina to the manor to play? I believe a playmate might be healthy for young master Tilvrade."


    My head perked back up, but this time to pout at Ivian.


    Not this again. Didn''t I say I just needed Ivian?


    "A playmate, that sounds reasonable," My father started speaking, "if that is what you think is best, my dear," he then deferred to mother.


    "Of course. Ivian, you can have Evrolina come to the manor after tomorrow."


    "Thank you. I will tell my sister."


    Well, who knows, maybe Evrolina would be interesting. She might know things Ivian and mother don''t. I could ask her if she sees the ghosts too.


    Breakfast adjourned, Ivian brought me upstairs to my favourite window.


    I saw father go to the stables before leaving on top of a giant creature, Saul right behind him, doing the same.


    "Ooh," I breathed out, "Ivian, what is it that father is on?"


    Ivian looked up from knitting something.


    "The horse, you mean?" She told me.


    "A horse. It''s really big."


    There were no images or memories to echo the new word. I felt proud to learn something brand new. Usually, I just seemed to rely on the knowledge that slipped into my head.


    "Do you want to go see a horse?"


    I nodded, spellbound at Ivian''s suggestion.


    Ivian went to change her clothes and then carried me outside. We walked back along a path I remembered from a while ago. Last time, we had just stood outside the wooden building there, waiting for father and Saul, but this time, Ivian took out a key and opened the door to the inside of the dark and smelly house.


    "Did you hear her whinny? That''s Sandy, Lady Cianna''s mare."


    I had heard something. It sounded like a snort and a cry and a house quaking around me.


    "Ms Ivian? Can I help you?" A voice piped up, one of the smaller white haired people got up from a pile of hay. At least, so I thought, until I noticed he had black hair. He was only twice my size though, unlike Ivian and mother or Mr. Barker who were so much bigger than me.


    "Hello Vis, Tilly saw his father head out this morning and wanted to see a horse. We''ll just go and say hello to Sandy."


    Vis looked at me and at Ivian again, "Are you sure that''s okay? I mean, Sandy''s pretty mild, but won''t the young master get scared? He looks so small."


    "Don''t worry, Tilly''s a good boy."


    Ivian stood up for me and we made our way to the last stall, where we found Sandy between the narrow wooden walls.


    "It''s really small." I said, a bit worried. "Doesn''t Sandy need a bigger room?"


    The horse itself was white and brown, the two colours gently swerving across her body, with a white strip of hair falling to one side down the centre of her back. In the dark, I could just make this out, but her eyes glittered in the light filtering in from a couple cracks in the wall.


    Ivian walked us right up to her, and I gripped onto her with a bit of a fright as Sandy''s giant mouth came right up to me. But she just sniffed around with those giant nostrils and whinnied again, seeming to lose interest in us.


    "Do you want to pat her?" Ivian asked.


    She put her hand out to rest on the horse''s cheek. I nodded apprehensively, and Ivian held me up around the chest so that I could get closer.


    This got the horse''s attention again, as she turned to sniff at me. This time, she opened her mouth and licked me.


    I squirmed a bit, trying to get back into Ivian''s protective arms but she just laughed and giggled.


    "Look, isn''t that great? You just made a new friend!"


    "No, Ivian," I squirmed around. Can''t she see Sandy thought she met her new dinner? "Help me!"


    "Aww, so you do act your age sometimes. Don''t worry, Sandy won''t eat you. She''s a grazer. Vis will let her out later into the fields around the manor to eat the grass.


    I looked up at Sandy with her sleek head and strong frame. Her mouth was huge and lined with white teeth.


    I felt a lot better after we left the stable and I was rinsed of horse saliva.


    It had been a sticky experience, but maybe it was good that Ivian brought me. At least I had learned to be careful what I ask for.


    I didn''t have any recollections or images brought by the horse or the stables. It''s quite amazing to think that father or mother ride on top of these beasts. Surely it was dangerous, but maybe I''d be strong like that when I grew to father''s age.

 Chapter 4: the shaman

    The sound of muffled speaking and creaking wood downstairs alerted me to a visitor to the manor.


    I briefly considered crawling across to the study to see if I could get a glimpse of what was out the front, but it would be far too much trouble, a scolding from Ivian and probably nothing left to see by the time I got there.


    It was a good choice to stay where I was, as Ivian soon came back into the room with a bowl of semolina.


    I ate and thought more about horses until a knock on the door preceded the valet''s voice.


    "The lady requests both of your presences below. Shaman Ikstoff is ready to see the young master."


    The valet winked at Ivian and me for some reason, before hurrying back downstairs. That was the man that served the plates at the dinner table.


    Ivian had carried me to the foot of the stairs, when we could finally make out the words of my mother''s voice from the reception hall.


    "So curses can be passed on then," she was saying in worry.


    "A bad thing, milay- uff," a high-pitched voice for a man was suddenly interrupted by a fit of coughing.


    "Vis, please get the shaman a pitcher of water, hurry."


    "Yes, Lady Cianna,"


    The coughing seemed to die down, just as we entered. Mother was sitting up in her seat across from an old man bent over in his chair.


    "Ivian, Tilly, please sit here beside me." Mother called to us as we entered the room.


    I studied the old man. He was another mage, like Mr. Barker.


    But I didn''t have such a good impression. His long white beard that stretched to the ground from where he was bent over, was scraggly and unkempt. His black robes looked tattered and he had little ornaments dangling from his ears and clothing, very unsuitable for a mage.


    He was definitely nothing like the mages that seemed to come to life then disappear around him. Those mages were well dressed in elegant military uniforms, the very images of disciplined practitioners and studious researchers.


    Still, the staff behind him was unmistakeable. Not that the thick, gnarled stick of wood was anything special, but in it was embedded a magic stone.


    It was a good thing Ivian was holding me, as the white haired figures did not remain flickering in the air, instead, overwhelming my vision with white specks and dizziness.


    It was the lab, the same one I had seen before in a memory perhaps better forgotten.


    The desks were strewn with papers, magic implements and the stones that powered them. Magic stones with the same waves of tingling as I felt from the staff.


    And then, I registered the smell, and my surroundings changed.


    This time, it wasn''t the land of the white haired spectres, instead it was Mr. Barker and his barrel.


    He was sitting there, the very first time I saw him in the yard, throwing wet wood chips into a tamed rogue fire.


    Gulp, gulp, gulp. "Thank you, young man. Thank you," the shaman''s strained voice broke through my trance. "It is but, gphn, but a old crick in the lungs. I''m not as young as I used to be."


    "Please, Shaman Ikstoff, take your time."


    Smoke and ashes. He stunk of the stuff. What do all the mages here need with fire? It was a contradiction. mages made fire, controlled fire, they didn''t let it smoke up their clothes, unless they were in battles, maybe.


    "Let me see the boy," the old mage croaked, looking up now at Ivian and me.


    Ivian took a step forward and grabbed me under the arms, so I latched onto her. It was one thing to study an interesting specimen at a distance, quite another to be delivered to its arms.


    The old man stunk, was wearing tattered robes, and though his beard was impressive in length, its upkeep left much to be desired and scratched against me.


    This was going to end badly.


    "Uhuuhuu," The shaman wheezed, "Not so different from other babies after all. No meaning of insult to you or your household, but it''s not uncommon for women to have exaggerated opinions of their offspring."


    Well, so much for my parents being important family of the king.


    I could literally see the fate of someone who spoke that rudely to a lord and lady of the white haired peoples.


    I flinched as even the sound of the bolt of lightning instantly charring the white haired criminal on the block boomed through the room. It was so loud and yet, I was the only one to hear it.


    "I''m right here Tilly, the shaman is just going to make sure you''re healthy." Ivian noticed my discomfort and thought it was the old man. Well, it was this old crook actually.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    I doubted the old man could make sure he was healthy himself, let alone me.


    Though, it''s true that he was a mage. Perhaps he was actually a healer, just advanced in years. Healers had to be trained in magic after all. How else would they diagnose?


    I hesitantly let his gnarled hands pull me around while paying close attention to what this maybe-doctor was going to do.


    Ouch!


    He betrayed my trust and poked me right in the knee!


    This was total violation. How dare he!


    I shot a glance of desperate appeal towards Ivian as the old hoax started to poke and bend, all the while hmming and haaing his cavity steeped breath all over me.


    Oh no. He surely didn''t do this to mother... my goddess...!


    I suddenly knew my purpose in this life. I must have revenge on this evil demon!


    "Shaman Ikstoff, I very much do not believe my son is enjoying this treatment. Why the need for all of this..."


    Mother! My saviour!


    Based on her comment, it seems it was only I who was subjected to such treatment.


    "Aherm, yes, quite so," he responded, and put me on the table. "The northern airs here can put strange cold in all of us. I am checking his body for any lumps or rashes. The lingering curse of infertility that you were under is not likely to pass on to others and is usually only detectable by years of trying to conceive. More likely he has one of the curses of foul odours if he''s acting up."


    Mother was under a curse? I latched on to the one part of his sentence that threw my feelings in greatest tumult. I even forgot my feelings of confusion and betrayal from being manhandled like this fall away from me as I tried to catch what was going on.


    I had heard talk of curses more and more recently, but it was only now, as I grew concerned for mother that a wash of different images assail me.


    "Report any dealers in curses to your local military branch. Only licensed specialists in construction and medicine may use trade cursed spells freely." An announcer called out in a virsphere broadcast.


    "It''s in there, my brother told me so," a girl Ivian''s age spoke with excitement as she pointed at a door behind a shelf filled with books. The door had a small sign on it that read "restricted stacks". "It''s restricted because they teach some of the curses to the forensic and enforcement divisions there."


    The shelves of books disappeared though as mother spoke angrily to the shaman, "I told you, my Tilvrade is seeing visions. This isn''t some cold or foul odour."


    "Very strange, aherm." The shaman seemed unconvinced, "In any case, I''d have felt if anything was wrong with the boy''s bones or muscles with the check up right now," the shaman commented.


    This quack probably already decided what he was going to say before he did the check up... Mother, don''t be fooled!


    Mother didn''t say anything though, and the shaman continued in his annoying and high pitched tone., "You aren''t hiding something, are you? The curse, kufkufkuf, it can''t be caught, but then, do you even know it was the curse of infertility? This boy should never have been born if it was."


    "No, shaman Ikstoff. As you know, I have also been very confused by this. When I became pregnant and spoke with you first, it was to answer those questions. If we had known the curse would lose it''s effect..."


    Was I an unplanned birth? That doesn''t seem right. Wouldn''t a noble family want an heir? I was still mother''s pumpkin, right?


    "Give me another moment and I''ll see if there''s anything wrong with the boy''s mind."


    I''m not so comfortable with you taking any care of my mind. Mother, come on. Tell the quack to bugger off.


    But mother didn''t help me.


    The old man took out a strangely shaped vial of sand with stripes drawn all up one side.


    "You there," he pointed at the valet, "as I hit the floor with the staff, please flip this vial and place it on the table, like this."


    Then, he dug a piece of wood with a weird geometric symbol on it out of his robes, fixed it to his staff, as if it was actually going to do something and started waving it all around, over me.


    Was he going to finally do his job and cast a diagnosis spell? About time...


    "Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell, hereby under lock and seal, until the supplicant to unbind does kneel. Curse of silence!"


    Clack


    As the last line was chanted and his staff hit the floor, I desperately shouted out, trying to warn mother and Ivian that this quack was casting a curse on me! How dare he, in my own home!


    Mother and Ivian did look suitably troubled, but didn''t make any movement to stop this madness. I was just relieved that of all the curses he could have prepared, he had made a curse of silence.


    Unless he did something to reinforce it, which by his shoddy performance seemed beyond his ken, it should wear off within a day. I just had to make sure I got away before then.


    As I desperately scrambled to try to make distance from the scary man, mother asked him nervously, "what did you do to him? Is he in pain?"


    The shaman was squinting at the odd vial of sand. He looked up at my mother and then me.


    "No, lady, no. I just put a curse of silence on him."


    Duh. You said so when you cursed me. Try to respond properly, you quack, I thought, but my mother seemed satisfied with his answer.


    "Settle down boy, no one''s here to hurt you."


    He slapped my bottom as he said this, just to make sure I knew he was lying.


    Ivian finally clued in and rushed over to save me. "Don''t hit him!"


    At least I had one ally in the room.


    I snuggled into her embrace and pointed her towards the room''s exit, but she just took a few steps backwards.


    "Nothing wrong with the boy, aherm. Except the fuss he makes, aherm. The casting time for the curse was normal, so there was nothing on his mind already to interfere with it. Aherm, he just needs to kneel to me and the curse will unbind, aherm."


    He might be a total quack, but at least he put an unbind sequence on the curse.


    "Did you just say kneel?"


    Finally! My mother was enraged.


    "My son will never kneel to you. You should be ashamed for even suggesting such a thing!"


    Wait, wasn''t my wellbeing more important than an empty ritual? I think my mother and I weren''t quite on the same page.


    "You will unbind the curse on my son immediately. Do you hear me? And you shall be thankful that you will never hear from me again after this day."


    Maybe this was a talk with mother that I should avoid...


    "Aherm, yes, ughkughkugh, lady" even now, he added the title almost as an afterthought, or perhaps he was just distracted by his coughing. "It was, ugh, a relatively harmless, ugh, unbinding ritual, and, aherm-"


    "Relatively harmless? My one and only son, forgoing his honour is relatively harmless?"


    The old man was coughing more and more through my mother''s tirade. Ivian was also starting to move from side to side, rocking me and patting my head in comforting assurances that I suspected were more for herself than for me.


    The valet, who had been getting the shaman''s mug of water suddenly took a few steps back realising something was very abnormal.


    He stepped in front of mother, putting an arm out in front of her and slowly backing both of them away.


    "Shaman, you need to leave. You are ill," I didn''t know the valet well, but I was impressed at how calm he kept his voice. This coughing from a crazy man was scary as hell. "My lady, please leave the room. Ivian, take the young master to the back and bathe him."


    "Oufk, uhuuhuu," the shaman''s coughs chased us as mother shooed Ivian out the room in front of her. The door closed behind us, only Vis and the valet remained in the room with the old man.

 Chapter 5: mothers curse

    "Your parents were something special," Ivian told me as she scrubbed me over a sud-filled basin. "They met at the mid-autumn ball when they were just come of age. After a dance, your mother approached the young Lord Sivis, requesting a walk with him beneath the stars."


    I closed my eyes as a bit of the stinging soap trickled down the ridge of my nose and into my eye.


    "Sweethearts of the evening, they were looked on with fondness by friends and family. But that was fate''s last kindness to their courting years."


    I really needed that soap flushed out of my eye. It stings so much. Is this the soap Mr Barker was making with the ashes?


    Ivian stopped a moment at my wriggling and I pointed at my eye.


    "Oh, sorry Tilly." The water stung too, but I welcomed it. "I''ll look out for that better. You''re such a man to not cry! Anyway, your mother and father were not of similar social standing."


    How can a country noble have any standing, I wondered, but it didn''t seem my parents'' story was of the usual sort.


    "Your grandfather was hesitant to say anything too forcefully against the children¡¯s play. Cianna''s father, after all, was an important supporter of his, but neither was he willing to let them be."


    Supporter? Wait, don''t tell me... I''m the illegitimate prince of the kingdom, born of the king''s son and his commoner princess, eloped to the countryside in passionate irresponsibility?


    My soul was squirming to hear a bit more as I tried not to flinch at the towel roughing my head and shoulders.


    I wish I could say something, but this curse of silence wouldn''t disappear for awhile.


    "Too high a status to be a mistress, too low to be a wife, your mother being a source of tension between your parents families. But their passions were only fanned by the scoldings of their families. Forced betrothal to the fianc¨¦ his father had long planned only made them long for each other the more."


    This is my father you''re talking about, right?


    My father didn''t show much joy or reaction to his own baby son. I had seen him from time to time through the windows, practising sabres with Saul or one of the village militia with a bright smile on his face. But around me? Nuh-uh. I got fish eyes, or was just plain ignored.


    It''s true that around mother he would sometimes seem more happy. But he wasn''t filled with kisses and hugs, at least not that I could see, even for her. It definitely didn''t seem like passion.


    "And then your parents disappeared one night. If not for the guard who had seen them going towards the harbour and reported to your grandfather, perhaps your parents would have put aside their dreams after that night of illicit desires and lived lives of their own, but fate, it seems, had its own plans for them."


    I shook my head, trying to poof the scary images of a white haired man and woman entangled on a bed. I didn''t know if they were fighting or in pain, but they were groaning weirdly. Why did they show up all of a sudden? Father and mother sound like they should have been running and holding hands and calling each other their pumpkin, no?


    "Tilly... don''t do that. Look, you''re getting me all wet now." There was a splattering of water and soap on Ivian''s white shirt.


    I was kind of happy though. Just a moment ago, Ivian had seemed to be going off into her own world, the lights of a distant harbour at night reflected in her eyes. But now she was looking at me.


    Still, I wanted to say I was sorry, but all I could do was open my mouth and close it again soundlessly.


    "When they returned to their houses the next day, they were both locked in their rooms and your grandfather publicly broke ties with your mother''s father, only further adding to his indignation that his daughter would be sullied and then so ruthlessly cast aside."


    It felt strange, what Ivian was saying. The little I knew of the white haired people seemed to tell me love was free and beautiful, but the black haired people seemed to fight over it.


    "There, you''re all dressed now," Ivian told me as she put me back on my own two feet. "I''ll tell you the rest of the story inside."


    Her still damp and cool fingers brushed over my forehead and then she picked me up. In her other hand, she emptied the large basin''s water onto the grass and then carried it with us.


    As we walked into the manor, Vis hurried by us, his face a shade of green.


    Ivian and I watched in surprise as he bent over and barfed over the grass.


    Quickly turning away for my benefit, Ivian put down the basin inside the storeroom and then brought me up the stairs.


    Thinking that I might have been worried, she reassured me of today''s earlier events.


    "Don''t worry about the shaman. Aian will make sure everything''s sorted." She placed me in my crib, and then left me again, "I''ll be right back Tilly, I just need to go check on Vis."


    I rolled around in the crisp, dry sheets and enjoyed the air passing over my skin.


    Then, Ivian came back, the door clicking shut behind her.


    "Tilly? Can you say something yet? The curse should wear off soon. It''s not supposed to last more than a few hours."


    Did Ivian not know that the curse would last roughly a day? Since he added an unbinding sequence, the spell''s effect would be compensated with duration.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Well, we''ll just let it be then. I should finish the story of your mother and father." Ivian said, trying to cheer me and herself up as we waited. "I only heard this story from a maid of a visiting lady, a friend of your mother''s. The maid had come to the bakery in the village since the manor was a bit short of hands back then. I was lucky she came and told us this tale of romance and tragedy that had spread across the capital."


    Her confession just confirmed that I couldn''t trust all of this story. No matter how well informed the rumours were, it just seemed unlikely to me that gossip would capture even that a guard had seen them going to the harbour on that dark, stormy day.


    "Perhaps it was in jealousy or perhaps in shame of being flouted by her fianc¨¦ and in the middle of the public eye. Whatever the poor reason though that, that witch had taken out an evil artefact that should not have been unearthed."


    "Your mother was afflicted with a lingering curse of infertility," Ivian smiled and thumbed my cheekbone. "Perhaps the it wasn''t a lingering curse as your grandfather''s mesmers believed, but whatever the reason, you were born against all odds. The son of the infertile wife of an exiled heir. I think the capital must be ablaze with a new tale now."


    My chubby legs wiggled up and down on the chair at the mention of me.


    "You''re a little miracle Tilly, even the gossips will have trouble believing in you."


    It sounded amazing to be called a miracle by Ivian. As soon as I recover my voice, I will promise to become your miracle.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The affectionate eyes through which I wished to look at my parents were quickly cleared at the table.


    Both my parents looked exhausted and mad.


    I noticed some brooding glances from my father as we ate mostly in quiet. That seemed exactly like the father I knew.


    I shouldn''t be too sensitive though. He was probably brooding in general, having been informed of the events of the day.


    If the shaman was so ill, it was highly possible I would break out in coughs at any moment. Or mother, or both of us.


    Maybe that''s why he and mother seemed so dark and quiet. Still, isn''t that when a family is supposed to bond together and cherish the time they have left remaining?


    I tried to imagine father a few years younger, standing up to his own father after running through the night with my mother. It was really hard though.


    You shouldn''t believe everything you hear in the rumours, Ivian.


    Perhaps there were circumstances. He was a warrior and an exile. If he was brought up as a man of high station, scolded for his indiscretions and bearing the guilt of the curse placed on his true love... perhaps there were some good reasons he could have changed.


    If he was just uptight, practising cool detachment with the same deliberate manner he seemed to have when cutting his food, then perhaps there was an inner part to his heart and feelings. When I grew up a bit more, and could talk properly with him, maybe he would have things to teach me and I new things to learn.


    I realised only half way through our meal that it was the chef in a splotchy apron who was bringing out the plates of food. He was shaking a bit as he put the steaming ham onto the table, a clatter drawing the eyes of the family, and a brief apology from the man himself.


    Perhaps Vis and Aian were given some time away from the manor. Considerate, considering the troubled day. It would also probably be better to live apart until we make sure no one had come down with the illness.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    It was my mother who came to tell me stories after that.


    Fables, like one of a boy who shouts "dragon" to distract the villager''s eyes while he pilfers apples from market stands. Until, one day, a real dragon appears and when he warns of the dragon, no one believed him anymore, and neither he nor the villagers had any more time to flee.


    Ghost stories, like the beauty of the forest who sometimes appears on the bridge beyond the willow tree and dances while glowing like a wispen light, luring her would-be suitors into the forests in the night. There dancing in the embrace of the tree, they find themselves cursed, never again able to flee.


    Mother spoke too of the far off peoples and places, more fanciful even than the myths and fables. Thin, pallid men who could not live under the sun''s rays, and would bite human children with their sharpened fangs before sucking them dry of all their blood.


    I think she just made that one up to get a squeal out of me as she puffed a kiss into my neck before leaving for the night. Unfortunately, my squeal was still a silent one.


    "I''ll leave this bell right here by your pillow. If anything happens, ring it and I''ll come."


    I took the bell and tucked it away. I wouldn''t need it anyway. They were just overreacting because of the curse that would last until tomorrow. Ivian was always in the room just beside mine if I needed help.


    I looked towards the window where I heard the chirping of crickets in the night breeze, flowing through the room.


    I hadn''t known my parents were from the capital. Ivian''s story earlier in the day had taught me a lot I hadn''t known.


    One moment, the night breeze filled with the chirping of crickets was the only thing in the room, the next, I was surrounded by streets with people innumerable, drinking from paper cups with colourful sleeves.


    They faded and I spoke the strange buzz word "capital" into my room again, enjoying the colours pop up around me and in my mind''s eye.


    Crystal buildings hang in the sky with lights streaming from them topaintgiant people immaterial upon the air.One moment the giants arethere, the next they disappear, replaced by others to see and hear. All the while,crowdswalk calmlyunderneathor stop and to discuss the giants'' conversationorgaze on high.


    Maybe the capital was the place where I would find the white haired people. I could ask mother or Ivian to take me sometime. After they take me to see the kitchens though.


    When all I saw was the wood of the cradle and the wooden planks holding up the ceiling I triggered it again.


    There were people around me with spheres of liquid light suspended atop their palms, messages and pictures flickering within. Points of light flashing as runes flicker in and out of existence, only one constant, the logo of VirSphere.


    They were all wondrous sights, of a convenient city, where everything seemed crowded but clean and bright.


    How the dreams of my memories seemed so strange and wonderful compared to the rusticsimplicity of mycurrent surroundings.


    If mother was from the capital though, then where was her virsphere? What were these phantom images and people that only I seemed to see?


    Suspicions tingled inside me. I felt like I might cry, if it weren''t for the curse of silence still muting me.


    All the visions seemed real and familiar, almost as if that world of the ghosts was the place I was meant to be.


    Here, the meats of the manor''s repasts and their unfamiliar scents and singed exteriors were so different from anything in the visions'' world.


    And today, that shaman, both familiar and not. He was a practitioner of magic, but only the simplest of tricks. His reliance on tools like the clock and crutches like his chanting were nothing like the mages I could see flickering around him.


    I rely on Ivian and my mother, and love them, and they love me. But am I really just Tilly? Just the baby who dreams of the shadows of another world?


    Even now, I see other white haired youths. Young men and women with robes in vivid colours, throwing fire and ice with nothing more than a flick of the hand.


    I don''t know yet who I am, or who I was.


    Perhaps I am not a baby dreaming of a strange place where I used to be a man, but a man dreaming he is a baby in this fragile illusion of a world.


    That would explain why I felt like I knew more, could do more than I was limited by my frame.


    I felt my eyes begin to close, the worries and thoughts bringing with them drowsiness as another world of dreams drew closer to me.


    Am I really born into another world? Or, as the whispers of the mages in my strange memories suggest, is this place the real illusion, just a false, virtual world?

 Chapter 6: my first friend

    A few months had passed since the shaman''s visit. My curse of silence was now just a distressing memory. I had not heard what became of the quack though and after that incident, Aian and Vis were still missing.


    The main thing that changed was that my mother remembered I was her pumpkin and was spending more time with me.


    "Oh look who''s there, Mr. Barker brought Fafi into the yard today."


    "Fafi?" I asked, "that''s a funny name!"


    Mother held me up to look out the window.


    Fafi was beautiful. She was a big, grey ball of fluff that seemed determined to become a mole as she kept on spearing her canine snout into the grass and soil only to wriggle around unsuccessfully.


    "Can we go see?" I asked.


    "Ivian told me about what happened with Sandy," mother told me, teasing me with my past traumas, which I had let my curiosity override. She picked me up to go downstairs. "Fafi''s a lot more dangerous than Sandy. She''s a meat eater. She hunts small beasts like you."


    Mother pressed my nose with her finger.


    "I''m not a beast," I retorted.


    Fafi was not scary at all. She was cute and darling.


    Well, other than the barking. She barked a lot at me as mother brought me closer, telling me that Fafi''s wagging tail meant she was curious to meet me too.


    "Can I touch?" I asked Mr. Barker who was watching us from a long board over which he was sliding a block of wood. It looked a bit boring, or else I would probably be distracted by his new activity.


    "This young man''s quite a brave one, isn''t he m''lady. Just don''t pull on her ears or tail."


    I reached out and rubbed my hands and face in Fafi''s fluffiness.


    As mother held me, I took a few glances at Mr. Barker, who was still sliding that wood. The block in his hands actually seemed to be creating light coloured shavings as he moved it along the board. Maybe it was to relieve his stress. I should try it out when I get older and have more responsibilities in life.


    A maw of incisors suddenly rushed up in front of my eyes and Fafi''s slobber was all over my face.


    What was with animals and licking? It was a bit gross and scary. Fafi wouldn''t really eat me like mother said, would she?


    I''d have to have another bath after this.


    Fafi rolled and panted and barked and whined.


    We frolicked in the clover as Mr Barker and mother watched on.


    "You two look like you''re having so much fun. Do you mind if I join you?"


    I immediately held my hands out to Ivian who had joined us in the yard.


    "I missed you so much, Ivian!"


    But Ivian just tickled me and patted Fafi''s head from time to time, and maybe saved me from an unintentional scratch or two as Fafi swiped her paws around in excitement on her back.


    "Ivian, thank you for thinking of him. I know you are having a rough time, I''m sorry."


    "Lady Cianna, please don''t. It''s me who should apologise that I won''t be here to help or take care of Tilly."


    The reason I hadn''t seen Ivian this morning was apparently because mother had asked her to do something else. I wonder why Ivian was the only one around to help in the house.


    "He is a part of our household as well, I just hope that you can make a difference and both of you will be back in the manor soon."


    Ivian picked me up and I rested my head against the thin strip of embroidered flowers on Ivian''s rough-spun dress.


    Mother waved me goodbye and I didn''t feel like playing with Fafi anymore after hearing this strange conversation.


    "Fafi, geddown now. Don''t bother the young master and the maid."


    Fafi was still hopping up on her hind legs, only held back from pushing Ivian over by Mr. Barker''s calls.


    When would I grow big enough to defend my one and only maid?Stolen novel; please report.


    We strolled back towards the house to get a wash basin.


    "We need to pretty you up, my niece and sister are coming soon," Ivian said, with her few-teeth-crooked smile. There was nothing in her expression to hint at what mother was talking about and the conversation faded away, replaced by the smile I loved.


    Hmm, now that I looked at it closely though, I think it was her incisors that made it crooked. Somehow they jutted in front of the rest of her teeth. It was almost like...


    "Are you a vampire?"


    "What?"


    "A vampire!" I told her enthusiastically, "mother told me after the Shaman left. They have sharp fangs that they use to hunt their prey and drink their blood."


    "Aren''t you excited to see Evrolina and my sister?"


    I think she just talked completely through my question.


    "Evrolina? Who''s that?"


    "Oh, you little troublemaker. You know exactly who I''m talking about, don''t you."


    I bore her onslaught of tickles with... that''s not true, I didn''t bear it, I caved in immediately, it was terribilightful.


    "Sto-p," my shouts went ignored until she finally released me and I had a moment to catch my breath on her shoulder just before I was plunged into the wash basin.


    "Looking at you and Fafi, I was thinking that you and Eve would get along great this afternoon."


    Hmm, this afternoon. I still had mixed feelings about meeting Eve.


    "Ivian, don''t go," I panted towards her chin as I tried to look up from her shoulder. Maybe Ivian''s sister would have her go back to the village when they saw how grown up I was...


    "What are you talking about. I''m right here," my maid said with a smile, but there was something dark behind her tone.


    I looked up at her pleadingly, but she looked away, not meeting my eyes.


    I pouted, she was resisting all my advances today. Were we just not meant to be?


    Think positive Tilly! Maybe Eve takes after her aunt and it will be love at first sight.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Eve, did you know that horses eat babies?" I asked, curious.


    Eve''s eyes opened like two saucers and she looked at me as if I had told her there were monsters under her bed.


    "But I''m the only one who knows and maybe I''m lying to you."


    "Why?" She squeaked.


    I couldn''t get that weird idea out of my head. The memories were false, but the memories were what told me they were false. So what am I to believe?


    "So what do you think, do horses eat babies?" I asked her back.


    Maybe, just as I was the only one who knew the true nature of those carnivorous beasts, my inner self was the only one who realised the true nature of the world. This was all just a virtual reality made possible by the latest magics of the virsphere. Maybe.


    Or, horses didn''t eat babies and my strange memories were bunk.


    Eve didn''t understand my dilemma. She just pushed herself onto her legs with her two front hands and then started running away.


    "Mama, mamaaaa!"


    She was... well, a baby.


    Not many images flicker around me when I think about babies. It seemed they were better to be avoided, even if they were kind of cute with their big eyes and chubby cheeks.


    I had tried to be polite all morning, really.


    I mean, Ivian helped me into a little vest and ribbon, just to look proper for the occasion, I put on a winning smile as Ivian''s family entered the manor and we even brought out Semolina, that creepy horned rabbit and his little menagerie of plush friends. Then, Ivian put me down opposite the girl whose cryptic mumbling I sat trying to decipher the rest of the morning.


    She wasn''t much of a talker, this one. She made squeaking sounds while jumping up and down, which Ivian miraculously figured out meant she wanted semolina porridge. Then she sat and sulked when I stole the first spoonful.


    Ivian is my maid, not yours!


    No, Ivian! Don''t look at me with those eyes!


    I had to kowtow with all my might for my angel''s forgiveness.


    Fortunately, Eve was quiet during the rest of the snack breaks. However, I was a bit incensed when her eyes strayed to my semolina. She had her very own bowl of the stuff, the glutton.


    "Tilly," Ivian''s shadow encompassed me from behind. "We need to have a little talk."


    I don''t think Ivian was very impressed by my babysitting abilities.


    Oh, the hardship, oh the toil. Trying to teach your friends the deeper questions in philosophy seems to be a thankless sacrifice.


    Sorry, maybe I went a bit too far.


    I didn''t really expect an answer from Eve or anything. But that look of horror on her face when I told her horses eat babies (this is a fact by the way, it almost happened to me!) was priceless.


    "I was not expecting this behaviour from you, Tilvrade."


    My ears would have been drooping like Fafi''s right now, if they could.


    "Sorry Ivian."


    Ivian let out a big sigh and lifted me onto her knee.


    "Tilly, this isn''t like you," Ivian told me. I was willing to disagree though. She just didn''t understand what it was like having to sit with a little creature who couldn''t talk or share and was putting my position as first place with Ivian at risk like this.


    On second thought, all she did the past few years was babysit one of us followed by the other. Maybe I should try a harder...


    "I''ll try harder," I said.


    "Will you? Then will you apologise to Eve? It''s not me you should be saying sorry to."


    Muh. I didn''t have anything to apologise to Eve for. Give me a break. She was the one who took my food first. Wait, she did take my food first, right?


    "Okaay..."


    Eve was playing with the plushies again. The fox one turned out to be hers, actually. It had seemed unlikely that I would have gotten two new plushies overnight.


    "Eve," I said, and her vapid eyes looked up at me again in fear. She kind of looked like Semolina, big upturned eyes, raised eyebrows and apprehensive, hunched shoulders. Maybe I should think of her as a little animal of the forest.


    "Eve, I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to scare you. Horses don''t eat-... horses are really nice animals that eat grass in the sunshine."


    Maybe it''s better not to talk about horses eating babies again, even if I was refuting it this time.


    "Really?"


    This time, her eyes opened wide again, but her whole back straightened out and she came alive again in a good way.


    "Yeah! Maybe we can show you Sandy next time!"


    It would be a win-win-win. Eve would be happy to see the horse, Sandy would have a tasty meal and I wouldn''t have to see Eve again. Happy ending.


    "Uh..." Eve seemed to be looking for something. "Then, auw we fwends?"


    Aww, don''t look at me like that.


    I suddenly saw an image of a father telling his daughter that boys were like wolves.


    I think I knew what he meant. Eve really shouldn''t be so trusting. Who knows, she might find herself all eaten up very soon.


    "Of course. Friends!"


    The slightly crooked incisors in her smile were the same as Ivian''s. Maybe other babies weren''t all that bad after all...


    Still, I feared for this gullible girl''s future...

 Chapter 7: winter in the warmth

    "Eve," Eve and her mother came back the very next day, and the day after that, and after that too. "We don''t have to see the horse, but how about I show you Fafi? She''s like Semolina you have there, just bigger and fluffier."


    It had been about a month that Eve and her mother had been coming here and Ivian had disappeared.


    I wonder what happened. It must have been something to do with Aian or Vis. I hadn''t seen either of them since the shaman''s visit. I asked Eve about her aunt, but Eve just shook her head saying she didn''t know.


    I wouldn''t usually see Vis anyway, so he might just be in the stables, where I first met him.


    Aian, on the other hand, I used to see and hear in the house quite often before, even though I only found out his name recently, but now he seemed to have disappeared.


    "Bigger and fluffier?" Eve brought me back to the important things in life. I think I had got to her.


    "Yes. Fafi''s the mage''s doggie. They''re both really cool."


    "Maju doggie?"


    "Auntie Veredith!" I called out to Eve''s mother. She was a few years older than Ivian, but quite pretty too. In fact, I had gotten into a fight with Eve last week when she claimed her mother was prettier than Ivian, but that was obviously untrue.


    "What is it Tilly?" Veredith looked up at us. She had been doing some kind of crochet while sitting near the fire.


    That''s what the strange holes in the wall were for, fire, I had learned as it started to get colder. I had panicked the first time I saw mother light one a few weeks ago, but the smoke all went up a pipe in the wall behind it and it was so warm beside it.


    I really liked the fireplace now. It was cozy to sit beside, much more than the unseen, if perhaps more efficient heating systems that I saw in ephemeral shapes like the white haired people.


    "Can we go outside and see Fafi, Aunty Veredith?"


    "You want to go outside?" She asked with a smile. "It''s so chilly though, don''t you think you might get a cold?"


    It really was chilly, which was why the fire was so nice.


    "I don wanna cold," Eve decided to shout now.


    "Eve, wait! Fafi is really warm. You won''t be cold if you put your hands on her." And you''ll wear a coat and jump around, so you won''t even notice.


    Fortunately, the lure of cute, fluffy, warm Fafi was too strong, and Eve nodded.


    All I wanted, to be honest, was to get out of this boring room and go see what Mr. Barker was doing again before it got even colder, as Ivian warned me it would.


    My sarcastic remarks and teasing also started to be ignored by Eve who seemed to get used to them while we continued to eat and play all the same.


    In any case, it was easier for me once I told Eve about Fafi and we would go sit with Mr. Barker and his dog.


    "Stop that," Veredith whispered as I wriggled in her arms.


    She held me on our way outside, but it was oh so uncomfortable. I wanted mother or Ivian to carry me, not this lady. Or at least let me go on my own, like Eve who was running ahead of us. I was slow, but I could walk, kind of.


    Veredith had wrapped a heavy little cloak around me that looked like my size, but it was too hot. My neck and back felt like they were boiling hot while my nose was getting cold.


    Fortunately, Mr. Barker was there, and so was Fafi.


    Not only was Fafi much fluffier than Semolina and the other plushies, but I got to watch Mr. Barker as he hammered barrel lids shut. I wanted to check on them so I asked Veredith. She held me near and I curled my nose a bit at the spiky smell. Mr. Barker seemed to have put a bunch of vegetables in some kind of soured wine.


    It looked foul, so it was probably a good idea to put a lid on those and toss them. Why the chef man from the kitchen came out to roll one inside was beyond me though. Maybe the garbage was put on the other side of the house?


    "Wowahaha," Eve fell over as Fafi found her and brought her to the ground. She could be very slobbery.


    It seemed Eve liked Fafi though, so I asked Veredith to let me go play and stumbled over in my oversized boots.


    "Noo! Like this," Eve shouted and got up, ignoring Fafi to show me how to stomp back and forth and pull me around by the hands.


    I think Eve didn''t understand why I couldn''t run around with her. I was just starting to be able to walk, but it was hardwithoversized bootsin themud and with Fafi threatening to knock me over as she nosed me and jumped around us.


    Eve, on the other hand, seemed clumsy enough inside, but once we were in our gear, she sped around everywhere behind Fafi and thought I should do the same.


    "Eve, wait," I told her, pulling my hand away from her grasp.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Don give up!" She told me, misunderstanding.


    "No, look," I said, pointing at the sky.


    There were white dots swirling through the air, like white rain but floating gently down from the sky.


    "Snow!" Eve exclaimed, trying to catch it as it fell down. We both shouted the word and watched as the unfamiliar flakes melted on our cheeks and hands.


    Then Aunty Veredith came and brought Eve away, saying they had to leave early today to go back to the village.


    It wasn''t long after that before I stopped playing outside altogether, the snow mixing with the cold that now descended over Olwick as winter began.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The winter was dark. The shutters were always closed and even the sunlight through the glass windows downstairs never lasted until dinner.


    My winter days were bright. Every waking moment, I was surrounded by fire and candles, the flickering flames sometimes becoming an obsession of mine as I stared or waved at them and played with the shadows.


    Eve came a few more times to the manor while the snows were still light on the ground. Mother seemed to be spending most of her time in the kitchen and the larder down the stairs I had never been down.


    A lot of the days were pretty boring, sitting around inside. Veredith seemed happy to let us do what we wanted while she went to help out.


    One of the bright sides of having Veredith and Eve here is that I started eating more interesting stuff.


    First it was just semolina with salty and sour carrots and cabbage, the foul smelling things I had seen Mr. Barker putting in barrels in the fall. I had been unsure of eating this the first time, but Eve didn''t seem to topple over and die, so I took a few bites and soon the saltiness was growing on me.


    Other times, Eve and I snacked on slices of apple. Unlike the round red apples that I saw mother eat sometimes, these had all the red part removed. They were sweet and turned into a mush in my mouth. They were really good, but Veredith said they would be even crunchier next summer when they were being picked off the trees.


    One of those days when the fire was warm but I wasn''t very sleepy, Veredith perhaps gone to get another bowl of apples, Eve came up to me and proposed we play games.


    "Tilly! Let''s play gamoz!" still a bit of a lisp on some of her words even now that she turned 4. "Like this. You have da hold my hands."


    Uh...


    I held up my hands as ordered, wondering what type of game this was that Eve wanted to play.


    "Now we walk dat way."


    I started walking towards the fireplace where Eve pointed, but Eve tugged my hand and I looked back puzzled.


    "It''s a gamoz Tilly, we have da walk slowlwy."


    I wasn''t really convinced, but just went along with it, like so many of the games we played these days. One was much like another, but I didn''t have much else to do.


    We stopped in front of the metal screen that was placed in front of the fireplace, the warmth blasting against me making me close my eyes in drowsiness.


    I flinched and almost fell backwards when Eve leaned forward and planted her lips on my cheek.


    "Eve, what are you doing?" Veredith ran up to us as she entered the room.


    "Mama! Tilly and me are gonna be like mama and papa. We hada gamoz too!"


    "Eve, you can''t do that, even if you are playing," Veredith came to scoop up Eve. "Tilly is going to be the lord of Olwick."


    She seemed to be looking around to make sure there was no one else in the room.


    It slowly dawned on me that gamoz wasn''t just a mispronunciation of games. Eve had meant something else. It was one of those gibberish words that were becoming less and less frequent these days as I absorbed all the vocabulary of Ranis, the language spoken in Farand as well as Keiran.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Eve came less often to the house after that but father kept on going out daily.


    Sometimes father would say he had finished a sweep or rallied a pen or that they lost a house, but as he and mother seemed to be so tired these days, I rarely ate in the dining room with them.


    Instead, I focused on drawing, and getting better at caring for myself, two things my mother was only too happy to encourage.


    She was a bit surprised when I originally asked for paper and pen, and instead of what I wanted, gave me an old wax board that father had kept, a present he had received from a Southern lord when he was young.


    It was quite simple, just a board of wood covered in a thick white wax and a steel pen, but I could do whatever I wanted with it, drawing my family, Mr Barker and the white haired people and all the things they did.


    It was while I was thus passing my days in the warmth of the inside of the manor that Ivian finally came back.


    She was beautiful, surrounded by dozens of burning candles that she was still setting up with her sister Veredith as mother carried me into the dining room.


    "Ivian!" I shouted, reaching out to her, and she turned around and came to tickle me.


    "Tilly, I hope you haven''t missed me too much over the winter." She said with a smile, marred by the large shadows under her eyes. She looked tired and older, no longer the teenager she was before.


    I felt a bit hurt that she didn''t seem to want to spend too much time with me, going to sit beside mother as Veredith brought me to sit with Eve. But I guess I shouldn''t complain too much. I was just happy to see her again and hoped she would be back with us from now on.


    Even Mr Barker, Saul and father came in, though a bit later, their cheeks red from an outing in the cold.


    I often played with Eve and Veredith, and had seen Mr. Barker and Saul with father many a time. But it was the first time we had all come together like this for a meal with no distinction for class.


    It was beautiful, both the flickering lights of the candles in the room and the warm voices of the people I loved around me. They were my family, my household.


    Even Eve, who seemed more interested in the candles and plushies that she hadn''t seen in a month, was an endearing sight to see.


    I saw mother and father sitting together, watching over all of us from the side with a smile and thought that maybe I began to understand his sometimes reserved demeanour. It wasn''t that he didn''t like being a family or looked down at the villagers. He looked tired too, like Ivian, with shadows under his eyes, exhausted from a day when he was out in the snow to protect not just us but the whole village.


    He was a protector and a lord and perhaps his focus on his duties had made him not know how to just relax and enjoy.


    But father too had one of the small squares of cooked and dry semolina that Ivian brought from the kitchen. They dripped with honey, yoghurt, and each had a little hazelnut pushed in on top.


    A single bite of it was sticky paradise, the explosion of sweetness unlike anything I''d ever tasted.


    I giggled as Ivian tried to feed me another spoon, my pulse rising as the treat made me giddy.


    In my giddiness, I remembered the word for sugar, and how it was an extraction from beets or crushed canes grown in the warmer climates to the Ellenic Empire''s south.


    I licked my lips and reached out, trying to touch the big cake on the table in front of me. Couldn''t have too much of a good thing, after all.


    "Tilly? What are you doing?" Ivian asked as she lifted me up and took me away from the table.


    "Give me!" I screamed, struggling to get out of my captor''s grasp, but my sugar clouded eyes slowly cleared as I realised the big cake and the little treats glimmered tantalizingly in front of me were all in the ghostly plane.


    I felt a tear come out of my eyes as my father said something and mother and Veredith clapped then each came to kiss me.


    Eve was clapping with a big smile on her face too, but I realised I didn''t hear what was going on in the end that day.

 Chapter 8: the stablehands

    Another couple months passed in the bliss of Ivian''s company. It felt like summer again, old times when I was with the smell of Ivian''s clean wool clothing. Just that now there was a smell of mud and thawing snow.


    Then, one day, I was awoken from a nap, not to Ivian or mother, but to a round, wrinkled face.


    "Tilly," my mother said from the doorway, "Grita is here to take care of you during the evening."


    My mother seemed impatient. Even as she was speaking, she turned and walked down the hall. She must have just brought Grita here and left to go take care of some other matter.


    "You understood that, didn''t you," Grita asked me.


    I stared at Grita and she stared back at me.


    It wasn''t the first time I had seen Grita. She was the old woman who came from time to time to talk with mother or Ivian about me. However, it was the first time she had come just to babysit me. Mother was busy with directing the cleaning in the manor and the yards now that it was the spring.


    I didn''t answer her question. It''s unnatural for a child barely over a year old to hold a conversation and Grita didn''t look very understanding or kind. I might get in trouble if I acted too much like myself or talked about the white haired people.


    I tried to keep an ear open for what was going on in the house.


    "Where did grandma go?" Grita suddenly said playfully, putting her hands in front of her face.


    You''re not my grandma.


    "Here she is!"


    "Hmhehe," I tried to suppress my chuckle. When she took her hands away, I saw her whiskers! She was a cat. I remember cats, though I haven''t seen any.


    "Your mother and maid are so proud of you."


    That made me giggle some more. I was proud of my mother and my Ivian too.


    "They speak of you being so able to talk about all sorts of things and run around even though that should still be beyond you."


    I let her talk to herself as I turned my ear to other sounds in the house. I think mother and father were talking downstairs. I couldn''t really hear though, other than the muted mumble. I give up.


    "Not so much as your maid claimed, but you do seem to be quite an intelligent one."


    "Tilvrade, mmh," the old lady nodded to herself, "There was a Tilvrade once. A great Tilvrade, but a foolish one..."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I think I fell asleep. This granny was mumbling on about some boring story. Just because there was another person with my name once upon a time didn''t mean I was going to repeat his mistakes.


    It was nighttime anyways, so sleeping was probably a sensible thing to do.


    It''s just that I had slept for most of the day after playing with Fafi this morning. Maybe if Grita hadn''t put me back to sleep with her story, I would have fallen asleep a bit later and slept until the morning, but now my eyes were wide open.


    Grita still seemed to be sitting in the chair beside my cradle, her head slumped down as she let out soft, whinnying snores.


    I heard a thumping and focused on my ears. Maybe it isn''t simply restfulness that woke me up?


    Dadadump, dadadump, dadadump


    It comes from outside, so my fears of a thief or rodent seem to have been unfounded.


    "Hiiingh," it continues to get louder until a horse sized whinny put an end to the rhythmic sound.


    The whinny was a give away. Even if I was unfamiliar with the sound of a horse running, I was able to put it together with the very brief sound that I had heard when we went to visit Sandy.


    But why were there horses and in the middle of the night at that?


    "Grita?" I called slightly apprehensively.


    It was the first time I hadn''t been put to bed by mother or Ivian or that I shared my room with a stranger.


    Now that I was more alert, I could smell an unfamiliar scent pervading the room. The smell reminded me a bit of the tiny bag of flower stems that mother put in the table drawer with my clothes. It also smelled of the soap Mr. Barker made and had a bitter or sour smell too, like my father''s feet when he took off his boots after training. It seemed to be Grita''s smell.


    "Grita," I said a bit more loudly.


    The sound of footsteps downstairs meant that someone else had heard the horses out front. I think it was my father.


    I stopped shouting to Grita, waiting to hear what happened. I was a bit worried by the night visit by the horses, but father always gave a composed and steady feeling, so I should be able to leave it to him.


    The next hour passed quickly as I stared up at the triangle of moonlight on the dark ceiling. Below, muffled sounds of footsteps and questions accentuated the cool night breeze.


    I had just gone through a winter of frigid snow and cold draughts, so even though it didn''t feel so cold as before, I didn''t want to come out of the sheets until the shining sun came out in the morning.


    Spring and its new life and flowers would defeat the winter air. At least, that was what the images of flowers and trees from the other world told me as they bloomed in fast motion around me. I wish the knowledge that came into my head when I thought of the seasons had more purpose or use but like so many of the things I knew for no reason, they were just errant thoughts and foreign words, idly crowding my mind like chirping birds.


    I wanted to do something more, be someone more. That''s what I thought, as moving angles of light and gold interrupted the triangle of moonlight on the ceiling.


    The horses had come around to the yard. I was so close to the window and yet so far. I looked at the dark night sky and the flashes of light.


    "Leave her to ya''," a man''s voice talked and I thought I heard a boy''s response.


    There was a clattering of the stable doors and something else. Then the lights disappeared and there was a final thump.


    Grita had slept through it all.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Grita was turning around from the first rays of sunlight in the open window when I woke up.


    "A morning bright is a joyful sight, for little ones as well as old. Let''s rise and awake for goodness'' sake and with the day unfold." She gestured with her arm as she sang the small verse in her scratchy voice.


    It was a quirky, but fit Grita somehow, the old lady seeming to tell us we better make the most of the new day.


    I remembered Grita slumbering during the night, head and shoulders slouched over. She seemed to be used to talking to herself and making do. But maybe she wasn''t all displeased to be brought in to the manor this past night to take care of my babyness.


    She had rough and slightly clumsy hands, but I put my hands out on top of me and it didn''t take long to change me.


    "Toilet," I said and pointed beneath the cradle.


    "You''re used to the chamber pot already?" Grita asked.


    Come to think of it, I reaaally had to go. I don''t think I pooped a single time yesterday.


    Then she shook her head and bent down to draw out the plain grey porcelain.


    "Here you go," she said placing me down on top of the chamber pot.


    I heard the sound of an enormous yawn outside the open window and wanted to go see whoever it was who seems to have slept in the stables last night.


    I had to wait for a bit though as I was washed up and by then, the sounds of boots had moved inside.


    I smiled as I heard a hint of Ivian''s voice. It seemed she was downstairs too, working already.


    "Lady Cianna runs a good household," Grita said, watching my smile. "I''ll go downstairs and see if we can find something to eat."


    Grita put me back in the cradle and made her way out the room.


    For all her age and wrinkles, she didn''t seem to lack energy or have any problem walking up and down the stairs.


    When the door opened again, it was Ivian who came through it.


    "Did you sleep well Tilly? I hope you weren''t too much hassle to Grita. She''s been really kind to come to the manor to take care of you. I''m sorry I haven''t been able to be around very much these days. There has been so much to do."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Ivian lifted me up and pat my head, then brought me over to the wooden chair by the window and had me sit down to eat my bowl of breakfast.


    "I''ll have to leave again, but make sure you eat and don''t get into trouble. We got a messenger from the capital last night. Your mother''s father, Ipocond Birbek is planning a visit to Olwick in a week''s time. Without Aian here, there''s too much to do. Your father said Saul would be meeting with some possible hands to hire, come up from the village, but they still aren''t here."


    So the sounds last night and the yawns this morning must have been this messenger.


    A person on a horse seemed a poor substitute for a proper communications channel. Even at a great distance, as long as the receiving tether was fixed, the signal just had to be sent to a set of coordinates. It wasn''t all that hard, just a simple incantation.


    Mouch


    Ivian kissed my forehead and then handed my supervision to Grita, who had come in sometime in the middle of that, her own bun and butter on a plate in hand.


    Before I took a spoonful of the semolina with squash and peas, I looked out the window. Then, not seeing anything of note, I sorted through all the things Ivian had told me as I took a bite.


    Father was probably gone prancing around the village to do whatever it is he does with the other horseback riders. Saul was just going to meet with new helpers to replace Aian. Meanwhile, Ivian was left with the affairs of the estate and, right now, that meant taking care of this messenger.


    Maybe Ivian should be put in charge...


    I heard the sound of a horse again and looked out the window. Saul was pulling on the reigns and slowing to a halt in front of the stables. It seems that he was late!


    Vis ran out from the house and grabbed the horse while Saul went into the entrance to the kitchens that I had yet to see. Yup, Saul wasn''t even in on time, and now he''s going to pillage the kitchens while Ivian slaves away...


    I guess if even Saul was around in the house today though, we really were short of helpers.


    Grita, following her small success yesterday, seemed to want to play peekaboo, but I really didn''t.


    I smiled for her benefit but was frequently taking peeks out the window, looking forward to going outside now that it was getting warmer again.


    "Fafi!" I called as soon as I saw the big dog run out from a thicket of trees, Mr. Barker soon following behind.


    I had been all winter cooped up inside without my fluffy. This was perfect.


    Grita looked out the window as well and frowned a bit. "The dog? You play with the dog already?"


    "Yes! Play! Outside!"


    I was a bit hesitant still to speak normally in front of this caretaker. She wasn''t really family, and she was the midwife, likely to be more sensitive to my unusual growth, which I had very much realised it was after meeting Eve.


    The last thing I wanted was for that witchdoctor to be called back, assuming Grita wasn''t going to start poking around herself.


    Outside was clear. Chilly, but a pleasant climate again.


    I shouted and waved towards Mr. Barker and his dog, and they barked and ahayed back.


    "Grace of the morning to you, young master. Quite a boy to have a different lass with you every time."


    "Hahaha," Grita cackled most unseemingly.


    "Fafi, Fafi!" I called but Grita pulled me closer to her and waved the dog off a bit.


    Circling around us, Fafi was much less excited around the old midwife. I understand the cutie. Grita had a certain presence to her, like a captain does among soldiers.


    Instead, Grita used her free hand to spread out a place napkin over a stump of wood, not far from where Mr. Barker was, once again, sliding a block against the wood.


    As Grita sat her ample rump down on the stump, she watched the dog and mumbled, "Okay then, let''s see how this works."


    She put me down on her knee so I could easily put my hands out and sink into that wonderful feeling of fur.


    "What are you making there, Jom?" Grita called out, now that we were settled.


    "Oh this?" Mr. Barker responded, looking up from his stress plank. "You know of the young man, I reckon. Sad thing that, he wasn''t even 20."


    "Ah, it''s a coffin then," Grita responded in a dispirited tone.


    "Right you be, right you be. That old buzzard should never of been called to the manor. I hear the lord and his wife are havin'' a hard time of it now. Well, you''re here taking care of the young''un, what more need I say?"


    "Parents, Jom, they''re all the same. This little one really seems to be something else though. Look at him with your Fafi, not scared a wink."


    I was presently trying to wriggle out of the caretaker''s clasp. Fafi wanted to frolic, and so did I!


    "Okay then, tyke, I''ll put you down, but you better not be going nowhere now, hear me? I don''t want to have to get up and be chasing you and that pup around."


    As soon as Grita lowered me, Fafi came right up and started licking at my face.


    "Oh no you don''t!" Grita scolded, and I was lifted right back up. "Oy Jom, don''t tell me the lady lets your bitch all over the boy," she accused questioningly.


    "What''s that? A bit of innocent play, Fafi means no harm."


    "Aah. You''re all fools," Grita grumbled, "Just because she has a pretty coat of fur doesn''t mean she''s clean. I can see she is unlikely to have fleas, seeing at how you pretty her, but all manner of pest and worms will take hold in those gums or stomach."


    Parasites... eww. I looked at Fafi, and wondered why they didn''t just get rid of them. Of course, even a simple analyse spell was not so simple in this world and a specialist in ridding pestilence was most likely a rarity. How did people even survive without the ability to treat themselves?


    Is that why that shaman could make a living despite being so obviously a sham?


    Was my life going to be taken prematurely by some errant flu?


    "Even if she had no pests, you must''ve seen dogs and their pups before. What do you think''ll happen if your bitch got it in her mind to nip our young master around the neck or vomit him a meal. Fools all of you. I''ll have to give the lady a talking to too..."


    Aww, Fafi, don''t bite me. Why would you bite a pup around the neck anyway, that sounds grizzly.


    "Ah, yes, apologies ma''am. I don''t know much about children, I''m afraid."


    Fafi was sitting and whimpering all the while this old midwife scolded her owner. I think Fafi repented enough. Now maybe some more play?


    My thoughts were simply not to be though, as Grita decided there was no time like the present and picked me up for another walk to the manor.


    As we approached, I saw something very interesting. Just outside of the stables, Saul was looking at a duo of middle-aged men who were lined up. They all exchanged looks and peered at the stables'' door.


    "Lord Saul, yer said it''s 15 copper a day, did''ja''?" The crooked nosed one was asking.


    "15 Efeles copper pieces, food and boarding in the stables. We''ll only take one of you and it will be temporary, until the Lord Ipocond''s visit is concluded or we can find a replacement for the recently deceased valet."


    Suddenly, I was transported.


    I saw a room around me, the wall behind the white haired people half a window looking out onto magiluminescent light wrapping around a large building behind.


    Between me and the window, two men and a woman sat behind a long table, all dressed in one colour suits.


    "It says here you know about virspheres," said the one in the middle. "I might be prepared to offer you a position in marketing, if you can design virtual runes."


    "Yes, sir," the crooked nosed man''s reply snapped me back to reality, even though it was the same reply given to the officious people in suits. I think Saul was hiring a replacement for Vis, just as I had been hired in that corporate office.


    I thought of Vis barfing just outside the house after the Shaman''s visit so many months ago.


    Mr. Barker told Grita he was making a coffin. Was that for Vis then?


    "Ye''see," the crooked nosed man pointed to the hulking one beside him, "I been walkin'' with this ''ere boy from the village. He''s got something of a natural curse ''ee does, dense as a baby."


    The bigger man did look a bit dense, staring at a little bird hopping on the grass nearby as someone was badmouthing him right to his side.


    "You need sumun like me, who knows ''is left foot from ''is right."


    I couldn''t believe Vis was going to be replaced by one of these clowns, one mean, the other dumb.


    Vis, may you rest in peace and be reincarnated anew.


    I mumbled a small prayer for the departed and thanked the stars that it wasn''t Ivian or mother or myself who caught the shaman''s disease.


    A moment too soon, as it were. Grita walked into the manor and through the doorframe in the hallway, I saw Vis, alive and in a black valet''s doublet walking awkwardly around the dining room table, trying to straighten the cloth.


    I stared in incomprehension at the erstwhile stablehand until mother''s voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the dining room.


    "Careful with the cloth. It creases easily and took Ivian an hour to iron properly. Just gently pull on the edge so that it straightens and the cloth dropping off the edge of the table folds in an even wave."


    "Yes milady."


    "My lady, not milady."


    Mother was looking towards us in mild surprise as she said this, not paying attention as the stablehand answered.


    "Milady," Grita spoke up, evidently not caring about setting an example for the valet in training, "you can''t let the child get pushed around by the dog. Pests and worms might not be passed on, but all it takes is an accident, if the dog starts treatin'' him like her own."


    "Sir Barker''s dog? You think she has worms...?" My mother was taken aback by the midwife''s warning.


    "I don''t know, milady, but unless you know somethin'' I don''t, I wouldn''t count on her not havin'' them either."


    "Yes, you''re right. Did you hear that Tilly? You can only play with Fafi when mother or Grita are with you, alright?"


    I nodded dejectedly. I guess I shouldn''t complain that I had concerned parents.


    "I really don''t want to give him castor oil.. Do you think he''ll be fine?" My mother asked Grita nervously. "You aren''t feeling ill, are you Tilly?"


    I shook my head vigorously. I had no idea what castor oil was, but it didn''t sound good. Don''t jump to conclusions, mother.


    "Nah, we caught them early. He should be alright, milady. Sorry for disturbin'' you."


    "That''s quite alright, Grita. Thank you for telling me."


    The rest of the day, we spent outside but far away from Mr. Barker and Fafi.


    In fact, we were on the other side of the manor, my first time outside the front doors. We sat between two clipped yew trees on the groomed strip of grass between the manor and the gravel path leading off to the village.


    Grita had brought the stools herself, going back to get the second after plopping me on the first outside. It wasn''t a short walk, since she had to go around the garden path to the back of the manor instead of going up the round double staircase before the front door.


    The second time Grita showed up, bringing a stool for herself, she also had with her a small wooden pail of water and two clean pieces of straw, probably taken from the stables.


    "Look," she said, dipping the frayed end of the straw into the pail and then blowing through the other. Magically, a bubble expanded out of the straw, floating into the air in a perfect sphere.


    When it finally popped and I turned my awe-filled eyes towards Grita, I saw a smug smile on her face.


    "Want to try?"


    "Yes!"


    It was wondrous, little perfect spheres flying into the sky.


    Grita raised the straw, holding it up in front of my mouth, and I blew, a single bubble expanding from the other end and then detaching and floating in the air.


    I jumped off the stool and reached towards the bubble that was now too far above me. I wanted to catch it, to feel the wobbling, transparent, rainbow film. Then, just as Grita reached up a finger and popped it, my breath caught as bubbles popped into existence everywhere.


    There were suddenly bubbles popping out of the grass and covering the sky in a lethargic, upside down rain.


    "Hehehehe, hehe!" an uncontrolled giggle grumbled in me as I started milling about my arms trying to catch and pop the bubbles like Grita had before.


    But instead of popping them, my hands went right through them, until a third and then a fourth hand an arm sprung out of me and catching and popping the bubbles in the air.


    "Ah!" I cried, waving with my right hand instead of my right-right hand that I wanted to control. "No, uh," but it wouldn''t listen to me, and I had to follow my phantom hands that reached out and caught the bubbles they wanted.


    "Tilly, Tilly, don''t be silly. Don''t hurt yourself jumping around like that." Grita called me. The vision of the hands and the bubbles flickered as she caught me around the waist, but when she put me down the phantom hands came back, and started glowing in front of me.


    "Don''t you want to blow another one? Was it that exciting?"


    I thought I heard Grita ask, but I was staring at the hands as the fingers fiddled and then a new bubble burst out of them.


    Magic. I thought, I was using magic to cast bubbles, the small, perfect spheres a wonder of mana and the first few steps I could take as a mage.


    "I raised my other hands, the ones that disappeared through the millions of bubbles and they overlapped with the phantom hands. I waved and wiggled and could feel the mana that was coming through my arms and bursting out of my palms as more bubbles-


    "Tilly!" Grita shouted and I was assailed with a dizzy spell as the colours and bubbles disappeared from the sky. "Stop that. It''s not nice."


    I only just realised that I was waving my hand I had whacked Grita a few times as she tried to hold the bubble straw near my face.


    What was this bubble straw anyway?


    I suddenly felt confused, thinking of the bubbles and the other bubble I had blown first.


    What was magic anyway?


    Above us the skies were blue, around us the forests drew breath and in them animals grew. There were no more bubbles filling the air, but I could still feel that mana must be plentiful here.


    "That''s enough for today. Let''s go back inside."


    But as I looked at Grita huffed and put the straw away, I felt like something was missing or incomplete.


    Here, they didn''t have the conveniences and powers of the world in my memories, but instead, they blew bubbles, made soap from ashes and rode on wild beasts through the woods.


    I wanted to make bubbles like the phantom arms did. I wanted to nurture mana and have it pop out of me like that. How did I do that? What secrets did the white haired people have?

 Chapter 9: the ipoconds arrival

    It seems not only had Aian died early in the winter, but the shaman too, that day he visited.


    It had all been to protect mother, Ivian and me.


    I now learned that after Aian had shooed us from the room that day, he tried to carry the shaman from the manor. Along the way, he had been showered in spittle and blood from the shaman''s illness just before the old quack died.


    Soon after, while washing the flooring in the entry hall, Aian himself had started coughing.


    A model of diligence, he had stoically asked for a few days off and went back to Olwick to nurse himself at the old steward''s house. Ivian had apparently been gone to help him, which scared me when I heard. Thankfully she didn''t catch the disease and I admired her courage and willingness to help Aian who had perhaps saved our lives with his sacrifice.


    I knew all this because today, despite the manor being so busy preparing for my grandfather, the ipocond''s visit, our family all walked down the road, halfway to the village, to see Aian''s funeral.


    Mr. Barker had brought with him a coffin with carefully grooved panels and a curve to the edge of the lid.


    It was a truly beautiful box. It was the one I had seen Mr. Barker working on outside with Grita even a few weeks ago. The designs and ornaments carved in the wood peeked out from beneath the wreaths and flowers heaped on top of it.


    In my mother''s arms, I could see father beside us and three old men following closely behind. Everyone wore white, as did I, though there was little variation other than my parents'' more intricate clothing in the gathering.


    Father knelt and placed his hand on the coffin lid. Mother and I stood right behind him.


    "Blessings of the golden sun to Aian. May no curse afflict him nor demon disturb him as his rest continues unbroken."


    He remained kneeling even after his short prayer.


    I felt a streak of liquid spill down my cheek. My mother was crying, her tears falling down on me.


    Aian, I thought, you have my heartfelt gratitude for saving me, my mother and Ivian. I might not have known you well, but please know that I will make sure to live strongly and protect my family and this village.


    It was a small promise, one I would have wanted to carry anyway, but I thought it was what he would have wanted as I placed my hand on the coffin and mother knelt beside me, doing the same.


    I glanced at my mother a couple times, thinking of she would offer up mana to the dead in the funeral ritual of the white haired people, but she didn''t, nor did father or the others.


    We walked beyond the coffin to stand around the hole that a familiar crooked nosed fellow was standing beside with a shovel, looking rather bored and uncompassionate.


    It was the same man from morning three days ago who had been badmouthing the bigger man near the stables. It seems Saul had had the bad judgement of choosing this man after all. It paid to be mean, it seemed.


    He looked over at my mother and me. I caught his sneer and frowned at him and his eyes widened in surprise.


    Feeling somehow smug that I had freaked out the man, I went back to watching the gathered villagers as they knelt and then lined themselves on the other end of the burial hole.


    Among them was Ivian with her sister and Eve. A man walked with them too. He was big with black and curly hair, both on his head and his burly chest, that was only covered up to the first button of his shirt. He was probably Eve''s father, the baker.


    I saw Eve brighten up a bit when she saw me, but her mother didn''t think it was appropriate for her to come over. I waved back though, since she obviously wanted me to say hi.


    They too knelt around Aian''s coffin. Tears trickled from Ivian''s eyes but it was her sister who didn''t get up on her own. The baker had to put an arm around his wife to gently raise and pull her away.


    I looked at Ivian and saw her tears redoubled as she reached out to hold hands with her sister.


    There were other people and families I had never seen before. There were far more than I had ever seen. If you don''t include the phantoms of my illusions.


    Each of them had different reactions. Some people cried and others pondered. Some mumbled prayers and others closed their eyes in silence.


    Once the procession of villagers had finished their prayers, my father spoke to them.


    "We have come together today to mourn the loss of one of our own. To me, Aian was not only a loyal valet but a man who I could depend on for advice. He was a diligent man and a brave man. A man who gave his life to defend my family and Olwick, a sacrifice I shall never forget."


    The village murmured, in approval or in agreement, I am not sure which.


    "Aian was not a lucky boy. In his youth, both his parents died during a year of famine," he said, and I tried to imagine dying of starvation. I was never forced to go without a meal, although other fainter memories of a laboratory and days of long experiments reminded me of what even missing one or two meals voluntarily could feel like.


    "Aian did not despair, or fall to sloth or wickedness. Instead, he came to the then steward of Olwick, to whom he asked for daily bread and duties. May no curse afflict him nor demon disturb him as his rest continues unbroken."


    Some repeated those final words while others closed their eyes and then father motioned one of the three old men towards him and clasped his hand.


    "To honour Aian''s passing," the old man said, turning to the villagers, "in memory of his parents, we need to make sure that famine does not afflict this village again. Lord Feles got Olwick has agreed to support us expanding the grain pit. If we are successful, we should have enough grain to survive 3 to 4 years, if we don''t sell or share any. In Aian''s honour, the largest one shall be named the Aian grain pit."


    My mother and father joined the clapping at the old man''s statement.


    My parents lingered as the coffin was settled into the pit. As the crooked nosed man started piling sod over the casket, Ivian walked up to us, cheeks still wet and eyes red.


    "My lord, my lady," she said solemnly. "Young master," she said, straining a smile as she waved at me. "Thank you for treating all of us so well. For being here for Aian as he is sent away from us and providing for his resting place."


    "You don''t have anything to thank us for, Ivian," my mother said, putting her free hand gently behind Ivian''s shoulder. "Aian died in place of the three of us. I will never, ever forget that."


    "Nor I, my lady," Ivian trembled, shaken by a suppressed sob.


    I put a hand out trying to comfort my angel as well. My arm wasn''t very long though, and ended up patting her cheek.


    "Sorry Tilly, not now." Ivian said, and stepped out of my mother''s embrace. "My lady, I just need to stay here a bit longer. I... I would like to take tomorrow to mourn, if that is possible."


    My mother took a moment before answering, "alright. This has been hard on you. You may take the next two days, if you need."


    Mother sounded almost grudging, but sympathetic at the same time.


    "Just make sure you''re back before Sunday though."


    "Thank you. I''m sorry to selfishly ask for time when you have little before your Lord father''s visit."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The next few days passed slowly, Ivian gone again, longer than the two days she had talked about and no more than a couple glimpses of mother and father.


    Well, I shouldn''t complain. I wasn''t ill, I didn''t remember Aian as more than a martyr and I had no chores in the house like Vis.


    Grita, unintentionally, revealed to me the secret alchemy of the magic bubble water. It was a concoction of normal water, oil and the ash water that Mr. Barker had distilled.


    Maybe I could learn some alchemy from him. I didn''t have many impressions of how it worked, but all sorts of ideas and finished products flickered around me as I thought of what I could make. How hard could it be to reverse engineer them?


    Then, as I was daydreaming of my future fame and fortunes, another messenger arrived at the manor.


    Well, it could have been the same messenger that returned, I didn''t see his face last time.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He dressed the same way that Saul and father did when they went out on hunts, with various leather pieces strapped on to him. He had a curved sabre in his belt and long hair, tied near the nape of his neck into a long rope.


    "The lord?" he hailed Grita and I who were sitting in front of the manor.


    I pointed towards the study room, where there was a possibility father was. But the messenger was more interested in Grita''s response than mine.


    "If you''re lookin'' for the lord, he''s probably where the young master''s pointin'' at. Just ask the new stablehand ''round the back and he''ll get ya'' som''un."


    "Appreciated."


    He bowed his head slightly towards me just before kicking his horse in the sides. Was that a threat? Was he trying to say he''d kick me too?


    A few bubbles later and the man''s ropy hair was swinging behind him as his horse galloped back down the road whence he came. I stuck my tongue out at his back. Teach him to threaten me.


    "Grita, please come inside. We need to get Tilly ready. My father will be here by lunchtime."


    I liked the ash water that made bubbles, but getting it into my eyes was not a pleasant experience. It stung and I got panicked that my eyes might evaporate. I started trying to ask Grita, but she just made it worse by slapping me roughly, shouting at me to quiet down as she wanted us to head inside.


    It seems it was an overreaction on my part though. I was rinsed off and slipped into a set of dapper linens with a red sash tied around my waist and a little pair of uncomfortable shoes.


    At least I wasn''t made to wear those on normal days.


    Ivian hurried past us, as Grita dressed me in my room, just sparing a hello before going past us to her own.


    It seemed grandfather had come before Ivian ended her mourning, and she had to be called back.


    Ivian soon returned, walking in livery, coloured the same red and grey as Aian always used to wear, but with an apron atop it and a dress instead of pantaloons.


    Then we waited. At least, Grita and I did. Grita sat in a chair by my crib, knitting, dressed in a maid''s livery just like Ivian''s, if larger and with faded colours. I had not seen her use it before.


    Sitting in the cradle with a sash and shoes was a chore, but since Grita would get mad when I tried to undo the laces, I just had to bear it and try to distract myself.


    I had a thought that I could try creating a mana pool.


    I thought of the other place, where so much of what I knew came from.


    It wasn''t the first time I saw the field that took over the ceiling and then the walls of my vision, but it was the first time I willed it to happen.


    Boxed in between paths where people walked between domed faculty buildings, the field was not all that large.


    I was here with 5 others, each of us in a dark yellow colour and a scribbled symbol that I somehow knew meant ''duel'' written over the front.


    I seemed to be looking at a practice, something we did every morning before heading to classes.


    The first thing would be to meditate together, focusing on our bodies and mana, refreshing our pools for the upcoming exertion.


    The basics of unstructured magic use were to gather the trickles of mana that saturated the body and with them create a pool. It wasn''t something that could be naturally done, but mana was deeply linked to the mind.


    For some, unstructured magic and the duel team was a way to keep fit and live ever so slightly longer, for others, a nostalgia, of the great wizards who moved the world before the Treaty of Azar. For most, it was a game, a pride in our military academy and a place to show off the prowess of our nation.


    I thought of those training sessions while sitting in my crib and found that simply feeling uncomfortable in these shoes and vestments could allow me to create an imbalance between my hands and feet and my stomach. Concentrating on discomforts and finding warmth and calm near my abdomen, I stretched out my legs, creating a network of sensations that could guide mana.


    It didn''t work so well though. The rush of mana that I remembered from the meditation in my dream was frustratingly empty. My body felt dry and as I tried to move ambient mana saturated in my body and near surroundings towards my core, it was like trying to scrape water out of an empty well, convinced something should be there, but only getting moist silt and pebbles.


    I felt apprehensive and stopped. I didn''t know if there was something wrong or if it was simply because I was still in such a small body and hadn''t been saturated yet with enough mana.


    Still, better not to force it. I didn''t know what could happen, since I didn''t see any visions of that, but it would at best be an exercise in futility.


    Then, just as I opened my eyes to a blurry sight of Grita knitting in her rocking chair, I felt a a tiny spark of cold in my stomach, overlapping instead of warring with the warmth of my body.


    I had done it! It was my first drop of mana, so small but very real.


    My lips trembled with a smile as I shouted out "I did it! I can do the magic now!"


    Grita looked up at me, startled and then stood and patted her dress.


    "What''s that dear? You can do the what now?"


    "The magic! I condensed mana into my core to do the magic!" I told her proudly. Just wait until I could brag to mother and father.


    But Grita didn''t look very impressed at all. She was smiling, but in that condescending way that grown ups do when they think you''re talking baby talk.


    It''s not baby talk, I swear!


    "Now, now, don''t be silly. The Viscount is going to arrive any minute yet. You better be on your best behaviour, alright?" She told me, trying to change the subject. "Oh!" She exclaimed, as I heard a shuffling of feet downstairs as well, "speak of a demon. I believe that must be them."


    She bundled me in her saggy arms and we went down the stairs. "No surprise you have ants in your pants, sitting in your cradle for so long."


    A row of soldiers, each with their horse still saddled beside them, lined each side of the left path leading out in front of the manor. From a distance, 3 horse carriages lumbered along between yet another dozen men on horseback.


    It was an astounding and worrisome sight. I couldn''t take my eyes off this procession, despite feeling nauseous and exhausted from mana condensing. I had seriously underestimated the toll that it would take on my body.


    And all this procession was for my grandfather, deemed too lowly by my paternal grandfather to be a father-in-law to his son. What kind of retinue would my other grandfather have brought if it was he who had decided to visit?


    My mind completely entranced by this spectacle, I continued to watch as the carriages rolled up, only stopping when the second, largest of the carriages, was near the double staircase.


    A man''s face could be seen in the carriage window, the wooden shutters locked to the sides of the carriage to take advantage of the warm air.


    "Grandfather, is this it?" A voice squeaked from somewhere unknown before a little head popped out of the opening carriage door.


    The coachman who had opened the door for the carriage''s passengers elegantly stepped to the side, tails on a long, clean cut vestment curling gently at their tips.


    "Yes, Pricel, now greet your aunt and uncle properly."


    "Yes, grandfather."


    He had hair of raven black, just like his aunt and... everyone I had seen in the material world, come to think of it. But, unlike my father, both this grandfather and grandson duo had gentle curls that somehow complemented their light brown freckles on peachy skin. Well, the boy had peachy skin, but his grandfather''s was more chalky, but with not too many wrinkles, perhaps indicating he was only in middle age.


    "Lord uncle Sivis got Olwick, aunt Cianna vis Lord Feles, I am sincerely happy to meet you both. My parents both send you their best wishes."


    "What a pleasant surprise," mother exclaimed, and strode up to the bowing boy before giving him a kiss on the cheek. "My little nephew, Pricel Phrans. I last saw you when you were just a baby, only a bit older than my son. Look at how tall you''ve gotten, and how eloquently you speak."


    "Thank you aunt Cianna," he said, in that polite, patient tone boys use when they meet doting family.


    "Nephew," my father said curtly, extending both hands in front of him to the young heir.


    I thought for a moment that the boy would feel affronted at such a cool greeting.


    Instead, his eyes lit up with idolisation as he reached up his hands to grasp my father''s wrists.


    A strange greeting, clasping wrists, but somehow both familiar and firm.


    "Has Lord Virtal Phrans brought you to the training yards yet?" My father asked.


    "No, sir, but I would very much like to join you if..." he blushed a bit and grew hesitant before finishing his sentence.


    It was clear that my mother''s family did not keep the same martial standards as my father. Not only did I see a couple extra rings around my grandfather''s belly, but, with a sinking feeling, I realised that by Pricel''s age, father would already have me training with a sword.


    "I see you could use a bit of mettle trained into you," my father responded.


    Sorry cousin, you just pulled that trigger on your own. I would personally pick my loving mother over my stern father any day.


    "Don''t be too hard on the boy, he''s only 7," the boy''s grandfather said with a hint of a smile. Maybe mother would save me a few years more from my father''s hands.


    "Father," my father said, and the two men clasped arms, "we are honoured at your visit."


    "It''s been too long I haven''t seen my daughter and son-in-law. I heard you had a son of your own and could not contain my excitement."


    "Father," this time my mother spoke, "it is a pleasure to see you as well, but let us not tarry on the stairs longer than we have to."


    "Of course, Cianna," my mother''s father said, a bit awkwardly for a father to his daughter. There were no embraces or kisses, only a nodding of heads and hesitant smiles.


    Perhaps some of that melodrama of which Ivian had told me about my parents was true after all.


    "What are we to do with all of your retinue?" Mother spoke again. "As you know from our letters, the manor was almost derelict when we arrived here. The stables had to be completely rebuilt, and they only have space for a dozen."


    "My men can camp. I''m sure they will be pleased just to have a morning to sleep through tomorrow. Most of them are city guards from Bridgewater though, so I''ll trouble you for a warm meal for them," The coachman, not all that far behind grandfather, evidently happy with the idea of a warm meal as he stood by the carriage.


    "Karbrol," grandfather raised his voice to talk to one of the nearby guards, "As soon as we go in, take the horses and men and set up a camp in the fields to the back."


    "Yes, Ipocond Phrans," the grizzled man responded respectfully.


    Then I was distracted when the boy''s face appeared right in front of me.


    "Is that my cousin?" He asked Grita, looking me in the eyes, almost of a height with me in my temporary caretaker''s arms. "Can I hold him?"


    "Careful, young master. Young master Tilvrade is still young and you''d hurt him easy. But you can take his hand."


    Phew, close one. I don''t want to imagine what it would be like to get tossed or thrown by this one.


    "Alright," he said and held out a hand. I put my palm on his, which surprised him for a moment, but he smiled and matched my gesture.


    "Can he understand me?" my cousin asked.


    "Young master Tilvrade is just a baby," Grita told him factually. "But that doesn''t mean he doesn''t understand you. He is a quick learner like his mother''s family."


    "Ohhh."


    "Who have you found there, Pricel?" My grandfather looked over. It seemed the talk on camp logistics had finished.


    "Father, this is Tilvrade," my mother said, walking ahead of her father to take me from Grita''s arms. "Your grandson."


    I looked around for my 7 year old cousin who seems to have wandered off again towards the manor yard. He had probably been sitting in that carriage all day and was restless to move about.


    One of the guards, dressed somewhat differently, stalked behind the boy, shadowing him.


    And then, I could pay attention no longer as a stubble covered face hovered above, cooing most effeminately like a besotted father to a newborn.


    I was so surprised at the close up face that I put my hand out to shield myself and accidentally slapped the man in the face.


    "Are you my little miracle?" He said cooingly, with pouted lips that he most definitely did not use with mother and father.


    "Yes!" I shouted excited. Did he know I was condensing mana already? Well on my way to making miracles?


    He dismissed my slap to the cheek as if I was doing nothing out of the ordinary, and pinched my hand up and down in his fingers and waved it about.


    "Father, do not tease him. He might be young, but he is very mature already."


    "Hahaha," he laughed from his stomach, "I would expect nothing less of your son, Cianna."


    I giggled back too. Grandfather was delicious! Wait, was delicious only used to describe food? No matter...


    "Grandfather!" I exclaimed to say my hellos too.


    My grandfather laughed joyfully, but mother then corrected me, "Tilly, this is mother''s father, not your grandfather."


    Mother''s father''s chuckles settled down, then he talked to me again, "I hope you will bring us together once again, little one. I''m sorry the years ahead will be anything but calm."

 Chapter 10: a boy and his shadow

    "Have you news of my family?" Father asked, leaning forward as he swirled fresh water in a crystal glass.


    "It is hard not to have news of your family, Lord Sivis," my mother''s father replied.


    "Your grigio, lord ipocond," Vis interrupted gently, without a slur in his speech, as he poured a ruby liquid into a similar crystal glass in front of the visiting lord.


    Good job Vis! I thought. Less than a week of training and the stablehand seems to have become an acceptable valet.


    Ipocond Phrans took the glass without any suspicions on the valet''s origins, but before he continued speaking, the guard who had been trailing Pricel came around to take the glass for a sip.


    Ipocond Phrans then took the glass back and continued speaking.


    "Your father, Sijon Feles, has recently been spending much of his time in the capital with the Elafoz. They exchange lavish gifts and listen to minstrels and bards in the Ginishilla palace."


    "With the Elafoz," my father murmured, eyebrows raised.


    "Yes. The Elafoz, along with many of the more... munificent of our peers, has been protesting the king''s decision to raise levies at the borders other than the one with Klistoss. The costs in the capital for wines and silks have risen sharply as a result."


    "We are soft, this kingdom, only spared by Keiran''s warring princes. But let''s not talk more of my father. Is my brother well? And what of Marian? Has her fate yet been decided?"


    The ipocond snorted and took a sip from his glass. "You know your father. As soon as Lady Marian came of age, he made sure she was betrothed. Fortunately, it was a well chosen match for her. Perhaps your father learned from you. She will marry Cond Yse''s son."


    "Verbon Yse? They were similar in age, if I remember well."


    "Yes, they are already well acquainted and don''t seem to have made any fuss."


    "And my brother?"


    "Your brother, hmm. Perhaps Lord Nistan can tell you," mother''s father gestured to Pricel''s shadow, who had just returned to standing behind the boy at the table.


    The man was tall and fit. His hair was not cut short, but not unruly either.


    "My lords," he bowed to father and the ipocond, "my lady", to my mother. "Forgive the late introductions. I am Nistan Bairv, son of Cond Bairv got Kervel."


    Pricel was quite a ways down the shield shaped table, so Nistan had to walk a few paces to arrive in front of the talking lords.


    "Lord Bairv, we should get you a seat at the table," My father got up and suggested.


    "No, please don''t. I am of no status, a disgraced fourth son of the Cond. The past year, I''ve had the good fortune of Ipocond Phrans''s employ as shadow and tutor to Lord Pricel. Of your brother though, there is some troubling news."


    The man''s voice was sharp, but he announced he brought bad news on a topic I had little interest in.


    Rather than boring reports of the capital, I wanted to eat or go upstairs. I had never met the aunts and uncles they spoke of and had no idea what conds and keirans were and the depressing stories of arranged marriage are not for me.


    Mother and father should understand when I ask to marry Ivian, right? Of course, I''ll have to convince Ivian first, and there might be a few small hurdles to overcome with the 20 years gap, but love conquers all, right, right?


    I peeked over Grita''s arm at the shield shaped table where Ivian was setting down a platter of food.


    Much better, I thought, as I was rhapsodised by the glistening russet drumsticks of two different birds meeting in the centre of the platter. Even as far away as I was, I caught the aroma distinct to birds cooked over fire that I had become used to in the months sitting with my parents at the dining table.


    Today, however, Grita and I sat, not at the table, but at the edge of the room. We were not deemed appropriate participants for the welcome feast, but my parents still deemed it better to feed me in the room. Perhaps they wished to show my mature wondrous self off to visiting family.


    Once the rest of the meal was served to parents and guests, Ivian came to sit by me, insisting on spoon feeding me today.


    I didn''t complain as much as I might have in the past. It was so rare to have any time with Ivian the past couple weeks that I relished the opportunity.


    "What does the baby eat?"


    A familiar boy popped up in front of us again, his curious voice bringing the attention of the whole room with it.


    "Pricel, come back to your seat," mother''s father scolded.


    "My lord, I apologise, this is because I had not been paying attention." I flinched at Nistan''s apology, grim as if he was speaking for the benefit of his disobedient charge. He turned towards the ipocond only after finishing his sentence and bowed low.


    My mother, seeing this, then got flustered in turn, "Please stand Lord Nistan. Fault lies with me for having my son eat with us," She hesitated before continuing to explain herself, "Tilly is such a well mannered child, I felt it would do no harm for him to demonstrate his grace at meals."


    It seemed to me that this was all being blown out of proportion. Could we not have just told Pricel what I was eating and returned to the meal?


    "No, there is nothing to blame with either of you. Pricel, you know better than to stand up and wander after being seated at the table."


    "Sorry grandfather," Pricel responded dejectedly as he walked back to his seat.


    Perhaps Pricel was as bored as I was listening to all the political gossip.


    "Semolina, Pricel" I spoke, feeling a bit sorry for the boy.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    That was perhaps not wise, as now all the tension was directed at me.


    "Semolina?" Pricel asked, stunned at the word.


    "It''s what Tilly is eating my lord," Ivian answered, bowing low to the wooden floor herself while interrupting the little lord''s return to the table.


    "Your son has the bearing of a great knight, Cianna. To be so intelligent and courteous even at such a young age.


    "He really does, father," mother said joyfully to her father''s comment.


    "Pricel," he spoke again, this time to his grandson.


    Startled at mention of his name, Pricel looked to his grandfather, then turned and smiled.


    "Thank you baby cousin. May you enjoy your meal too."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Grita sat with me in my room, apart from the rest of the household.


    A pitter patter of rain on the roof as we finished dinner was now a heavy grey noise to fit the colours of the darkening night.


    The sound of the rain made Grita and the rest of the room seem more distant, almost separate from my little crib.


    I looked at the window as I heard a shrill sound dimly above the sound of the rain.


    Was it the whinny of a horse from the ipocond''s retinue, wet and morose as his men camped in the distance?


    The ipocond seemed sure his men would be happy, enjoying a long sleep and a warm bite to eat. But the rain that seemed melancholic and somehow comforting within reminded me of drenched clothes and muddy roads in a land of another place.


    Listening for another sigh of the horse, it was a creak of wood from across the wall that caught my attention instead.


    That was the room Pricel had been given, on the opposite side of my room from Ivian''s chambers.


    I felt a bit happier as I imagined the curious boy jumping on the bed or exploring the hidden places behind chairs or under the tables. He seemed to always be looking around enthusiastically for new things to play with.


    The door creaked open, and Ivian entered.


    "Tilly, you were so grown up tonight," She walked up to my crib and said enthusiastically. "The lord ipocond was so very impressed by your answer to his grandson."


    "Ivian too! You were doing all the valet things!" I said, thinking of how she served the dishes during the evening.


    Ivian giggled and kissed my forehead.


    "And thank you Grita, for taking care of Tilly this evening."


    "Yea, good evenin'' miss." Grita said from her chair.


    The sound of the sad horse''s whinny came through the shutters again and we all looked up.


    I heard it more clearly this time. It dragged on a bit and ended in a breathy whistle. It wasn''t a horse at all but the sound of the wind finding cracks in the masonry.


    "Your lord father had planned to show the lord ipocond and his retinue the estate and the village fields tomorrow and borrow their assistance to do a sweep of the woods. The weather being what it is though..."


    She talked about how the rain was throwing off father''s plans for tomorrow.


    "Last winter, there was a behemoth shrieker that came in the middle of the winter, and destroyed many of the houses in the village. Although your father and the militia were able to take it down with only one death, it was a very long and cramped winter as the villagers had to share homes with those affected. It is unlikely that there are any behemoths this far south, but it was just as unlikely last year. A proper sweep through the woods would have been reassuring."


    A giant appeared behind Ivian, peering into my bed.


    It was large and porcine, tusks jutting from beneath its jaws and fur draping over its head and shoulders.


    It seemed bigger than even the image of it was, as if it was used to looking down even at the trees.


    But its gaze turned away from me, and it seemed more interested in chewing something that I couldn''t see just beneath the floor boards in front of it.


    Was that a behemoth? It seemed like a terrible creature if aggrieved, but a grazer just like the horses whose vegetarianism I was slowly coming to terms with.


    "Aye, that was unpleasant, for sure," Grita added in, "I had to take in Jarly, and her husband and twins. Rude, the lot of them. I hope we don''t see another behemoth or any shriekers anytime soon."


    Shrieker was not a word I had heard of before.


    Shrieking was just yelling, but if behemoths looked anything like the big and fat illusion, they shouldn''t have a high-pitched cry.


    Ivian and Grita seemed to be talking about something very different.


    Thump, thump, thump


    A knock on the door interrupted us and then mother entered the room.


    She was carrying two candles, both in silver holders.


    "It will be a dark night without the moonlight. Better to have a candle alight if anyone needs."


    One, she gave to Ivian and the other she held onto for herself.


    "Goodnight Tilly," she said, before leaving the room. "Sweet dreams until the morning."


    The door creaked shut and we listened a while as the rain pattered against the shutters.


    "An ill omen to have rain fall just as guests settle in."


    "Don''t say such unlucky things," Grita chided Ivian. "It''s just a bit of rain. No ''arm will come of it."


    "I should go to my room too. It has been a late night for Tilly."


    "Well past his bedtime," Grita agreed. "Good night then."


    "Good night Grita. Good night Tilly."


    Ivian took the candle with her as she went through the door to her room and for a short moment the room descended into darkness.


    But then her door creaked open a bit again and I saw her head come around the door.


    "I''ll just leave the door a bit open. I''ll put the candle down here."


    I worked again at condensing a few drops of mana in the weak, flickering light coming through Ivian''s door.


    Then, exhausted from the exertion on top of the late hour I felt my eyes drifting closed.


    I fell asleep to the dancing shadows and the sound of the rain.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Crrrrk


    My eyes opened drowsily as the creaking of the door broke the stillness of the night.


    Ivian? I wondered vaguely, as my eyes stopped drooping closed.


    But the sound came from the floor opposite Ivian''s room. It was the door to the hallway.


    I sat up and put my nose to the wooden grill, peeking out the gaps in cradle to see who had walked in during the night.


    A silhouette of a man was stopped just inside. The candlelight only just reached him, a flicker momentarily showing dark hair and brown leather.


    Thum, thum, thum


    His boots thudded softly against the wood as he moved towards me.


    He began to mumble something that seemed familiar, on the edge of my memory.


    "Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell..."


    As he spoke, he stopped in front of the chair where Grita was sleeping.


    "... hereby under lock and seal, until light of dawn land does reveal..."


    A burst of panic flared within me and I shouted. "Aa-"


    Or tried to, just as my voice was cut short by the curse of silence.


    It was the same one the shaman used a few weeks ago.


    "Curse you," the man, puzzlingly, told me what he did. He seemed to be frustrated I had distracted him from cursing Grita.


    Grita, wake up, I hoped violently.


    But instead of Grita''s voice, I heard the scratching of steel.


    Grita lifted her head drowsily.


    Splunk


    I shivered and blinked as a drop of blood hit my cheek.


    It was warm and sticky.


    If only I had shouted earlier or-


    Crrk


    Another creak, this time of a door behind me.


    Please no. Please not now.


    I felt my heart sink into my bowels.


    "Tilly?" Her voice seemed was almost drowned by the constant thrum of the rain.


    "Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell, hereby under lock and seal..." the man started mumbled once again.


    "Tilly? Is that you?" There was a tremor now in her voice.


    The shadows shifted as she lifted the candle on the other side of the slightly open door.


    I felt a flash of pain as my shoulder collided with the crib''s cage-like wall.


    "... until light of dawn land does reveal."


    Ivian walked through the door.


    "Who is that?" Ivian''s voice was now alert and much louder.


    Ivian, run.


    I wanted to shout, but I was bound in silence.


    "Curse of Silence."


    A quick scramble of footsteps accompanied his lunge.


    Thud


    I heard them slam against the floor and could no longer see them.


    I had to do something, get out, warn mother, anything.


    I was so small, my tiny weight and height not enough to get out or knock the crib over.


    The man sat up, his panting head appearing from the side.


    He was working on something below him. I couldn''t hear Ivian.


    He looked my way and smiled.


    Then he stood, dragging up Ivian''s arms with him, a rope trussed around them.


    He threw her over a shoulder, walked towards me and threw me on the other.


    His breathing echoed in my ears as he left the room and simply walked down the stairs.

 Chapter 11: the rain and the cold

    "If I knew you were going to be so much trouble, I should have just made off with the boy," Nistan mumbled, looking at me.


    As we sat against the cold stone walls in the kitchen, Pricel''s shadow, Lord Nistan paced in front of us.


    The kitchen was big and dark and the ashes strewn across the floor near the giant alcove where the fire seems to be set gave the air a sour, metallic smell.


    I nudged Ivian who was slumped on the wall beside me, but she was still unconscious.


    The muffled rhythmic rain suddenly turned into a hard roar as the door beside us opened and man stepped in from outside.


    "Nasty rain out''ere." The man spoke while pulling down his hood.


    I squinted and looked away as a few drops of water hit me. But not before I saw the man''s crooked nose. It was a face I had seen before.


    "Where are the boy and the horses?" Nistan hissed.


    "In the stables. Right back there."


    The world flipped upside down as Nistan picked me and Ivian up.


    "We''re leaving now," he barked.


    The roar of the rain got louder again and then we were in it, a sheet of it soaked me through as I heard the door thud behind us.


    I felt so helpless and weak.


    Could I do nothing as Ivian and I were just taken away?


    The cold rain stopped hitting me and I smelled the horses and their shit. It was a different smell in the damp, heavier.


    Two of them just stood there in front of us, saddled with hemp ropes trailing on the floor behind.


    Behind the horses, was the second corpse I saw this night.


    It was the other man, the dumb one, that had been there in front of Saul with the crooked nosed man.


    Three holes in his abdomen still dribbled blood from where he was stabbed with a pitchfork. The hay beneath him was turned a splotchy black mess in the darkness.


    I don''t know why the crooked nosed man was digging Aian''s grave, but it seems Saul hadn''t had quite so poor judgement as to hire him in the manor.


    But for what reason then would he be here? And why were he and Nistan trying to kidnap me?


    "Hold it," Nistan said, and he handed me to the other man.


    All I could see and smell was his sleeve, with an almost perfectly circular tear right above his elbow.


    He just stood there, holding me to his chest until Nistan grabbed me again from higher up.


    The horse took a step forward and then back again as Nistan steadied himself in the saddle and tied a strap around me.


    Then he gave it a kick and we were back in the wind and water, the horse moving not too quickly, perhaps to make sure there was no noise.


    I saw the manor and the road backwards, everything on Nistan''s right. We weren''t going towards the road that led away from the manor. Instead, we were going towards the woods behind the yard.


    If it weren''t so dark and rainy, we might have seen wherever it was that Mr. Barker lived, since it was down the path into the fields behind the manor where Mr. Barker appeared in the mornings to which we rode.


    As it was, we met no one, and after a good stretch of riding were enveloped by the trees.


    The forests were a blessing, seeing as the rain stopped trickling over my eyes and the horses had to be slowed to avoid tripping. I also figured that trails would be left more clearly for any search parties that might be sent out on the morrow.


    The rain, the horse''s hooves and Nistan''s breathing made a loud silence during the journey. There was never any talking, though sometimes Nistan raised his hands to signal the crooked nosed man where to take his horse.


    The trees and the dark seemed to be endless. I wondered as I sat there if Ivianwas awake, still helpless under the curses cast upon us.


    Piuwit


    Nistan whistled, coming to a stop.


    Making a few hand gestures at his accomplice, he then dismounted and pressed me to him as he dismounted.


    I felt the makeshift sling, still tied around me dig a bit into my bottom as Nistan started walking.


    I felt my face get pushed up to hard, wet leather of his chest as he crouched to look at something.


    I couldn''t see what he was so interested in, but behind him, I saw Ivian''s hair, falling down from where she was tied face down over his horse.


    The crooked nosed fellow caught my gaze and twirled his knife, at me, putting it back in the sheath right after.


    His horse had another boy slung over it, like Ivian.


    I think it was Pricel.


    "Shit."


    Nistan mumbled, almost inaudibly, and for a moment, I hoped that there was someone coming for us.


    Then he got up and turned, his boots squelching through the forest floor again.


    The half eaten corpse he had been looking at came into my sight.


    Not the corpse of a man, but of an elk, majestic antlers pushed into the mud, its side ripped open in a bloody spectacle.


    I felt tears cloud my eyes, as the death and blood reminded me of Grita.


    She was only at the manor to take care of me since we were short of hands. And the same for that stablehand.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Was this elk too chased by a creature like Nistan, helpless to do anything as it was eaten then abandoned to a slow death filled with pain?


    I felt a rush of air as Nistan swung back onto his horse.


    "There was no sign of predators or scavengers. It was at least a day old." Nistan finally spoke something. "But prey with teeth marks don''t just get abandoned in the middle of the forest."


    "Yer think it''s shriekers?" The crooked nosed man responded, incredulous.


    "Likely." Nistan responded again. "Ride near the ruins, at least we''ll have somewhere to run if they show."


    "Let''s kill the woman and baby, they''re just gonna'' slow us down," the other man said and I thought of his dagger that he was so eager to show.


    "Shut up and get back on your horse. Men are more dangerous than shriekers; they remember their prey."


    "What difference dosit make, huh? We''ve done and taken ''em already." The crooked nosed man was getting more agitated as he tried to decide my fate.


    "A big difference. We''re just delivery boys, bringing the hostages in. If you put a knife to their throats, it will be you they want. Stop asking questions and get back on your horse unless you want us to become shrieker bait."


    Again, the horses were stumbling through the forest''s dips and hills.


    I felt sick, wet, scared and tired as I was jolted by every other step of the horse below us.


    But I was also more alert after hearing the name of the monster from Ivian''s stories of winter.


    As much as I hated these men who took us from the manor, Nistan was keeping Ivian alive.


    There was nothing I could do.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    As a grey light began to mix into the darkness under the trees, I heard from my body a ragged whining breath. Nistan''s curse of silence lost its potency.


    Tikitik, tititkit


    My teeth were chattering badly too. During the hours of riding, I had become freezing cold.


    Don''t let them hurt Ivian, I repeated in my mind. Don''t get caught by the shriekers. I repeated again.


    I had to keep my focus. Even if there was nothing I could think of doing.


    "Aaah!" A shriek pierced the silence, "Nistan! Help, Nistan!"


    It was Pricel, now awake and unsilenced on the horse beside us.


    "Shush brat," the crooked nosed man said, while Nistan reined in his horse.


    "Silence."


    It was just a simple word, but Nistan''s voice was hard and final. He threw a piece of leather to the crooked nosed man on the horse stopped beside us.


    "Nistan?" as the man got down from in front of him, Pricel asked, recognizing his shadow''s voice.


    Even now, he couldn''t see much of anything, slung across the horse as he was.


    But he did see the man grab his head and start trying to force the leather strap in his mouth.


    "No, get off me!" He shouted. "Nistan! Why? Take me ba-ghn ahng!!"


    "Stupid brat," the crooked nosed man said, tying the leather strap off behind his head.


    Groans and whines kept coming out of him, even after Nistan told him "shut up, or you''ll bring the shriekers down on us."


    But Nistan didn''t relent, he just kicked his feet into the horse''s haunches and we were moving again.


    At one point, Nistan asked


    "You still alive there? You''re so quiet." Nistan asked, flicking me hard on the knee. "Try not to die on me, I already have enough of a headache on my hands."


    As if I could care less about your stupid headache. I hope it gets so bad you fall off your horse.


    But the gasp of pain I heard soon after wasn''t from Nistan but Ivian.


    It seems she had been awake for awhile too, but was being quiet, unlike my cousin. The horse had stepped further down than usual, maybe tripped up by a branch or log.


    We kept riding through the woods until we were suddenly back in the rain.


    The edge of the protective canopy receded behind Nistan''s back.


    The field we came out into seemed a bit weird. The grass covering the ground was yellow instead of the usual green.


    Shriiiii


    A cry pierced the clearing, like an animal in pain.


    The horses didn''t need much spurring, despite the rain. Fortunately, the ground was relatively flat and uncluttered, unlike the forest floor.


    Soon, the flock of birds was upon us. There were at least 5 different birds, in countless numbers.


    "Hundred shriekers, and they''re all birds. This isn''t good!" a cry came from the other horse.


    "Just get into the closest cave. We can hold them off at the entrance there."


    I huddled into Nistan, trying not to let the rain and cold overwhelm me.


    As the screeching got right on top of us, I started to taste blood. It was not my own, but from the red tinted water flowing down from Nistan''s hair.


    "Milord, they''re all o''er me. We''re not gonna make it," the crooked nose cried.


    A blur of movement almost caught my leg, but I pulled it away and almost fell off Nistan''s chest.


    "Haiyah! Haiyah!"


    Instead of slowing down, the horse was speeding up at Nistan''s encouragement, dashing ahead as I was caught between Nistan''s lowered chest and the running horse.


    In the cramped percussion, I wasn''t able to get back up or focus on anything else.


    Then, the galloping stopped and Nistan put me on the ground where I just curled up, lying there, trying to dispel the dizziness.


    "... lly, Tilly, can you hear me, Tilly?"


    Ivian was crying out to me from somewhere.


    "Tilly?"


    I opened my eyes to the horses'' hooves, just inches beside me.


    My arms screamed at me with pins and needles as I uncurled them. It had been so long in the cold. But I methodically worked some blood back into them and crawled towards Ivian, bent painfully over the horse.


    "Tilly, thank the spirits you''re alright."


    Thank what spirits. Maybe if I didn''t have to protect you, I''d end my own life right now, just to spare me the pain.


    "Ivian..."


    I mumbled. Even with my dizzy head, I knew what I had to do. The first thing was to take care of this fucker Nistan who had killed Grita and messed with us all.


    And then... I''d figure what comes after when it came. The first step was hard enough.


    "Lord Sivis will be here to save us right away. Just please hang in there Tilly."


    Ivian seemed to think father would be able to do something.


    I doubted that.


    As I collected my senses, I saw that we were in a dark cave. Creepers falling from an unseen ceiling and a stony ridge in the earth where the horses had stopped were all I could see clearly.


    Sounds of curses and fighting came from the rectangle of light into the outer world, where two men were trying to keep out the birds.


    Pricel was moaning again, now that he noticed we were stopped.


    Maybe he thought Ivian could do something, seeing as he was tied facing away.


    "Ivian, all tied, like you..." I panted out. Maybe he''d shut up.


    I''m not sure how the kidnappers warded off those angry birds, but soon, they were walking towards us, sabers still unsheathed.


    "I told her it was too late in the season!" Nistan shouted, overcome with some indignation. "I shouldn''t have accepted this."


    "Yeah, yeah, and you should not''a brought me along either. Stupid shrieker birds. Just kill the fat lot of ''em birds, then there won''t be no flying shriekers."


    "Look at this moaning brat. I can''t believe I had to wipe his bum for the past 2 years just for this mess up."


    A moment of silence followed before the crooked nosed quietly asked, "... you wiped his bum... milord?"


    "Not literally you fool. But I may as well have, sitting around, smiling and yeahing as he played around."


    Pricel had gone dead silent. I wonder what I would feel like if Ivian said something like that. She actually did wipe my... let''s not get off topic.


    "And now this mess. They''re just an heir to a disgraced lord and a fucking ipocond. Why do stuck up nobles get so worked up over their honour from years ago."


    "Beggin'' yer pardon, milord, yer a noble too..."


    "In name only, man. 4th son of a cond from his commoner whore. I ran away from that shit hole when they started telling me I should be grateful for being bossed and bullied around."


    It seems Nistan had gotten chatty after the escape and battle.


    "We should have just stabbed this wench back at the manor and been done with it," he said, and to my horror, accentuated his point by flinging Ivian off the horse and to the ground.


    Cheerily taking the example, crooked nosed made to do the same with Pricel but only got chewed out again,


    "Not the boy. We need him hale in Ibbergreen."


    "Right..." crooked nose responded less eagerly.


    "Are you sure we''ll be fine in ''ere?" the crooked nosed man asked, finally taking a look at his surroundings instead of leering at me. "This place freaks me out."


    His voice echoed dimly in the darker reaches of the giant cave.


    "We''ll just be here for a moment to rest and eat. Or do you prefer to stay out in the rain with the birds?"


    "Err, no."


    "Good, then shut up and eat. We leave when we''re done."


    Perhaps as adrenaline wore off or they started chewing their rations, the men grew less talkative. If ever I would be able to do something, it was now.


    I had to protect Ivian, but how?


    All the ideas that floated up from some other part of me involved wrestling or fighting or running, nothing I could do with this miniature body of mine.


    Maybe if I could just grab that knife at Nistan''s waist.


    No one would expect a baby to stab them. How would I grab it anyways?

 Chapter 12: shrieker among men

    I crawled to Ivian as soon as the men sat down.


    Her hands and legs were still bound and I had no way to help her, but she didn''t complain, and just motioned for me to sit in her arms.


    Still, I was trembling, if not from the cold, then the hunger. It was probably almost noon.


    Just yesterday, I ate 6 times during the day, my little stomach feeling the need to growl after a single poop.


    Today, I was dragged on horseback and kept awake for almost 12 hours and not given a bite of food.


    I looked around to try to get my mind off of my hunger.


    Nistan had called this place ''ruins'', but I would have called it a cave.


    There were creepers hanging from the ceiling, the flickering light of our kidnapper''s fire revealing stalactites dripping water from the recent rain. I wouldn''t have known how far the cave reached, since it was just darkness a pebble''s throw away, but in the distance, there was a crack of light that showed foliage and dripping rain water below it.


    This cave was big. Enormous even, if that pool of light wasn''t the opposite side.


    Ivian tapped my head with her chin as she hummed a few notes of a tune. Her humming was breaking up though, and she stopped.


    I felt her chest shake and a tear drop land on my forehead.


    I feel helpless too. I feel miserable too.


    The ceiling was slanted, or maybe it had been curved, reaching upwards to the peak of the domed cave.


    It was oddly familiar.


    The broken notes of Ivian''s humming reminded me of something.


    Where the stalactites dripped, orbs of light appeared and instead of a ridge that Nistan could sit with his legs off of, I saw a raised stage.


    In a dome like this, where minstrel played.


    Stupid of course, my useless memories were just illusions, now making me see weird things in a cave.


    Ivian was still shaking, I didn''t want her to hurt.


    I started humming back to her through my nose, picking up the song she had made.


    The music was simple, and she only gave me a few notes. But I could feel more of it in me.


    Ivian''s red-rimmed eyes opened and I felt her cold fingers brush against my cheek.


    It wasn''t the same thing Ivian had hummed. But in my mind, it burst with harmony, base and sounds from instruments I had never heard.


    Perhaps to Ivian who didn''t see the lights, the melody would seem like a child''s tune. Repeated notes and frequent refrain.


    The concert hall I saw, it was in the sky, held aloft by nothing except its own magics.


    Drops of salty water found my brow once more, a face I wanted to see smiling, unable to stop crying.


    My own welling sobs started to break up my tune, already echoey and muted in the damp and sprawling cave.


    This wasn''t a concert hall, nor was I the pixie of the stage who could rile the phantom crowds.


    "Stop that humming, woman. That''s some creepy shit," the shout of the crooked nose man. "This place gives me the shivers as it is."


    I don''t want to draw his ire, not now, not when Ivian is so helpless.


    And yet, now that he finished stuffing his mouth, the crooked nosed man came over to pester me and Ivian because of me.


    So stupid. Why had I let myself give in to emotions?


    "How ''bout I take the baby. Then I bet you''ll listen."


    "Leave the baby, she can''t do anything and it''s better he stays warm before we leave again." Nistan told him.


    "Gets warm?" The other man balked, "It''ll probably starve before we get anywhere."


    "A baby will last a week without food, just let it be."


    I shivered.


    Just as I thought Nistan was protecting me from the crooked nosed man, he says he wants to starve me. How would he even know someone like that?


    "Have ya'' even heard it cry? This baby ain''t natural, I''m tellin'' ya."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "Enough superstitious prattle."


    "Alright milord, alright. I was jus'' sayin''." he said, "Still, ya'' should''a seen the way it stared at me at that stupid valet''s funeral."


    Ever since we first got here, harried by those possessed birds, the man was determined to find someone to vent at.


    "... What about the woman? Or are you keepin''er fer yerself?" He asked.


    A sense of panic burned my stomach as moments passed, Nistan considering. I wasn''t ready to fight yet, I didn''t even have a knife.


    "Hmm, they had a valet that died? When?"


    "What?"


    I didn''t understand Nistan for a moment, but when I realised he was dismissing the other man''s comment without deigning to answer it, I felt relief wash over me.


    "I thought''ja didn''t care about my superstitious prattle..." the crooked nosed man started to grumble, probably mad his request was ignored.


    "When I give you an order, you follow it. The same goes for questions. Who is the valet?"


    "Just some servant the lord had. Some shaman fellow came along and, as I unnerstanit, gav''im the plague. Died o'' coughing, the both of ''em."


    No one spoke for a moment, so he spat to show what he thought of Aian''s memory.


    "No, not the plague..." Nistan mumbled.


    "What''s that milord?"


    "You''re saying the shaman was inside the house?"


    "What''s got you so worked up, huh? Yer reckon the valet would ''a gotten sick otherwise?"


    "It wasn''t the plague, you fool. If the shaman had the plague, we''d all be dying by now." Nistan raised his voice in some frustration.


    "Huh?"


    "It wasn''t the valet who was supposed to die..."


    "Supposed''a die...?"


    A moment passed, then Nistan decided, "I''m still eating. Give me some quiet."


    "Yes milord, whate''er ya'' say milord."


    Serves the bastard right, not getting any respect from Nistan. I almost felt like I could warm up to this 4th son of a cond as he kept on slapping down the other man.


    As silence fell over the cave again, I wondered what Nistan had been saying.


    The whole affair with the shaman seemed so long ago now.


    The old man had broken out in a coughing fit right in the middle of his visit, then I remembered Vis, throwing up in the yard a bit later. If anyone should have been infected, it should have been me. I had been handled all over by the old man.


    Instead, it was Aian, and the rest of us miraculously survived, none of us getting sick or anything. It would almost make sense if it was not a disease but a spell, cast on the shaman and somehow passed on to Aian when he died.


    If it wasn''t a coincidence as Nistan seemed to claim, then someone was after my or mother''s life.


    Well, rejoice, whoever you are. I''ll probably be dead before the night is done.


    "Alright, Drim," Nistan''s voice broke my pondering, "we''ve rested an hour and I don''t hear the shriekers anymore. We should get back on our horses before the search party catches up."


    As I heard the name, I realised I never did hear the crooked nosed man''s name before.


    "And the wench?" Drim asked.


    Every time Drim spoke, it seemed he was more cruel and mean than the last.


    Nistan started repacking the rest of his rations in his saddlebags while Drim just sat a moment to grumble to himself. Then, the two men went to check the edge of the dome again, perhaps making sure there were no signs of a search party or shriekers in the clearing.


    As they came back in, they went to check on Pricel and then Nistan made his way towards Ivian and me.


    His eyes looked grim.


    Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck as he unsheathed his sword.


    He bent down and grabbed me in one hand.


    I couldn''t let him kill her. I had to do it now.


    I was the only one of us three who wasn''t bound. If I didn''t do anything, nobody else would.


    I reached out towards the dagger still hanging from his belt but even hanging under his shoulder, my arms were still too short.


    It was so close, just a few more inches...


    Nistan raised his arms and I closed my eyes.


    Schpliit


    No, please.


    My cry came out much more like a wail.


    My eyes snapped open as I felt Nistan stagger.


    There was gooey red steel blade just inches to my left, but I only saw it for a moment before I felt myself falling. Nistan''s arm around me had suddenly let go.


    I desperately reached out my hands to grab onto something as I fell, but the hilt I grabbed just tilted and the knife slid out on top of me.


    Fortunately, I fell right on Ivian, the sword flat against me thus was spared dying from clumsiness.


    I could feel her breathing. She was still alive.


    I thought I was hallucinating as I saw the blade sticking out of Nistan''s shoulder above me.


    "Gyaaaaah!" Drim screamed from behind Nistan as he lunged at him, looking to overpower the man with wild slashes.


    Why?


    My head was spinning as I checked to make sure Ivian wasn''t harmed.


    "You bloody fool," Nistan screamed at his accomplice while blocking Drim with his own sword.


    But Drim just growled, his irises turned a solid red and his eyes unfocused as he lashed out.


    I realised with terror that the man had gone insane.He was just like thosedemonicbirds, the glowing red eyes, the shrieking and a beast even more wild and savage than the mean and petty Drim he used to be.


    But each swing of his sword was easily repelled, and an arm of his was sliced off by Nistan''s sword.


    Could people really just change like that? One moment a man, the next an insane beast?


    It was still clear who would win this duel though.


    I clenched my fist around the knife I had grabbed and channeled my fear into my limbs as if it were magic. I still needed to do something and make my pain filled body move.


    I slammed the knife into the back of Nistan''s knee and twisted it as he kicked me in the chin.


    My vision exploded and I could feel blood from the shattering of one of my previous 4 teeth.


    "Aaaaaaai!" I shrieked, trying to hold onto the fleeing stream of my consciousness.


    I could not falter yet. Even without his knee, Nistan would still live through this. A tooth or an arm, even my life were fair game, as long as Ivian survived.


    I pulled on the knife that had sunk into the bone. I felt Nistan falter, but it wasn''t enough and I couldn''t pull it out to stab him again.


    "Aaagh!" He shouted and cut Drim in two.


    Then, he turned on me, blood still falling behind.


    His nose was scrunched up in a snarl.


    "Gaah, haah, haah," Nistan''s breathing was ragged and raw as his raised sword paused in the air.


    "You''re not..." his eyes blinked as they met my own.


    I didn''t hesitate and grabbed onto the knife, still trembling in his knee.


    A chop came whistling down right by my head. I was just barely saved by the yank on the knife that put him off balance.


    I tumbled more than a meter away.


    But despite the crashing pain, I kept my hand on the knife and started furiously crawling back towards Ivian.


    I saw her despair filled eyes widen with shock as she looked at me crawling back towards them, knife clenched between my teeth.


    "No! Tilly! Run!" Ivian cried, this time in a very different voice.


    Her head was shaking desperately.


    Maybe if Nistan was crippled and Pricel could ride a horse I would still survive.


    But I needed to save Ivian.


    I could still hear Nistan''s ragged breathing as he tried to recover himself.


    I kept going, one hand and knee in front of the other, trying to get closer to Ivian.


    "Tilly..." she cried.

 Chapter 13: a hero

    The sound of his foot dragging on the ground told me he was following, but that I still had a chance.


    I didn''t have time to get up, so I just kept on crawling towards Ivian who was lying on the ground, hands and feet still bound.


    When I reached her, I opened my mouth, dropping the knife behind her back. Ivian''s eyes widened in understanding as she started to fumble around to grab the blood dripping tool.


    I stopped, and turned. I had to keep Nistan''s attention on me until Ivian could free her bonds and run for safety.


    Fortunately, between my blow to his knee and Drim''s through his shoulder, Nistan wasn''t in much better condition than me.


    I crawled for my life, trying to ignore the sharp stones that were tearing new scrapes and cuts across my hands and legs.


    "You, little, miscreant." He enunciated each word with a promise of pain.


    Please, Ivian, you have to get away.


    "Aarh!" the man shouted again as he lunged forward, bearing the pain in his knee.


    Luckily he shouted, giving me warning to push off my hands and roll to the side.


    Clang


    His sword rebounded off a stone where I had left half the outline of a red hand print a moment before.


    Swish


    But even if his sword missed the first time, he just had to keep on swinging.


    I used the moment of my roll to get to jump backwards as his sword swung again. I spat at his face, causing him to flinch before he swung again and used the opening to throw myself between his legs, hoping that with his injured knee, he wouldn''t be able to react quickly enough.


    I felt a flame of pain in my left leg as I landed awkwardly on my left knee. But I pushed my hand out and grabbed Nistan''s ankle.


    Before I knew what I was doing, I squeezed my few drops of mana to the surface of my hand, and it jumped to my bidding. The mana felt like a living creature, a snake or fish as it''s slippery sensation wiggled through my arm and the across my fingers, as receptive as in the memories of the duels in the faculty fields.


    I had almost no mana in this tiny body of mine and I knew no spells, but somehow, I knew that I was reflecting pain I felt on Nistan through the place my hand touched him.


    Realising what the magic was, I concentrated on my own leg that felt like it had snapped and pushed that image into Nistan, getting a yelp out of him.


    "What are you?" I heard my enemy waste his breath. "Shit, if only that idiot explained better earlier. Hah..."


    The results were even better than I had hoped. Instead of shrugging off the phantom pain, Nistan miraculously stopped and was leaning on his sword, catching his breath and trash talking. I wasn''t in a good spot either, as was apparent from the flare of pain in my leg, but there a glimmer of hope within me that I hadn''t felt a moment before.


    I just had to crawl a bit further-


    "Ah!"


    I shouted as I tried to crawl. Pain shot up my leg and into my spine.


    I tried to move again, and then again, but I moved only a couple meters before I knew I couldn''t go on anymore. The pain washed over my mind and my vision grew dim.


    Please, at least let Ivian get away.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "... ood... eishus... ...pened hie...?"


    I heard a noise buzz at the edges of consciousness.


    I tried to block it out, I had an important task to do.


    There was a hastily drawn report left by the Captain. The research I had done years ago in stasis runes had, according to the note, struck up an unexpected discussion in the faculty.


    My paper from draft recruit days had proposed a possible time dilation effect on the medium and tethers of a stasis rune that could prevent the rune itself from expiring.


    Usually, that would be impossible, not even worth exploring. If the rune itself was in stasis, then it should lose its effect, but the paper I wrote was based on a real example that I had been studying for a few years.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    I had to focus, the captain had only given me a week.


    A week to do the impossible, find out how to alter the preserved rune to have another effect without losing its long lasting nature.


    Could I do it with parallel runes?


    No, that probably wouldn''t work. If my theory was correct, then the stasis rune had to affect itself. Putting a rune inside the stasis rune would just freeze it.


    "... ilvrei... til... n you he..."


    "Not now," I waved off the annoying person who was trying to disturb me.


    What about compound runes?


    They were now proven to be possible, I knew as much from the demonstration of the compound rune research circle when I was in the faculty.


    But even they could only make it work for milliseconds, proving a theory but to no practical avail. Then again, if the stasis runes could influence its tethers then... no, it was possible, it might even be the key to making compound runes.


    If my guess was correct, that is. But I don''t think that''s how the stasis rune I had studied worked. The problem went deeper. Why couldn''t we replicate the long term stasis rune? What was it the captain had called it? A pristine rune?


    "...ly, please," I felt a strong urge to listen to what this voice was saying. Who was it again? I don''t remember the captain or lieutenant introducing me to any of the second lieutenants, let alone any women among the research team. "... lease liss.. me..."


    I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. It was just the stress. I have to keep on moving forward, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how much pain.


    I needed to start at the source, figure out what made a pristine rune.


    Fortunately, the captain had managed to bring the old preservation vat from my studies years ago to the lab. It was the only example of the long term stasis rune I knew of.


    I quickly set up a simple experiment I remembered trying before. The vat with the pristine rune was on one countertop, a big hulking metal thing, while I had a much lighter box, made to the same dimensions as the vat prepared with a standard stasis rune.


    I would just start the timer on my virsphere, set the mana stones like this and-


    "Tilly!" A shout threatened to crack the laboratory''s walls.


    "No!" I shouted back, trying to dispel the supernatural disturbance, but the fissures in the walls kept on growing larger and larger.


    "Is...right?" "... ably...ieker..." "wait fo..."


    Not now, please, not when I was just getting started. But the walls disappeared and an old man with stripes on his shoulders grinned.


    Around us, the lab had restored itself, vials and experimental apparatus, all set upon the smooth white countertops. A hard light filled the air, unlike the sunlight from the windows of day to day.


    As the man grinned at me, I felt a pit of fear settled into my stomach, as if I knew what he was about to say.


    "I am impressed that you have progressed so far in a theory to reconfigure the pristine runes. Perhaps your theory might even make it possible."


    Each word he spoke seemed familiar and filled with meaning.


    Pausing, the figure shrugged its shoulders. His gesture seemed to say ''it can''t be helped''.


    No, not yet. I''m not ready yet. Just a bit more time, if I just find out how to make-


    "The problem is, those results are not the ones I need."


    My eyes started swimming, looking around, but I couldn''t see. Why wasn''t the lieutenant beside the captain anymore?


    "Then what do you..." a voice, to my surprise, came out of me.


    "To make pristine runes, the results already stand before me," the figure''s eyes looked me up and down, "Let me share a secret with you. There is no such thing as time magic."


    No, the stasis rune, that didn''t make any sense...


    "Do it!" the man barked, just before a wave of pain flooded my head.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Waaaaiittt!" I screamed sitting up in pain.


    The phantom pain from the back of my head suddenly burst over my whole body.


    "Aaaaaaaah!" I cried out, my throat so hoarse and my voice shrill.


    "Hold," the curt shout had a warning tone in it.


    "Tilly," Ivian''s sobbing voice brought me back to the present, her body and embracing arms blotting out the light of the fire from behind her.


    "Miss Ivian, get back, he is probably infected!" I recognised Saul''s voice.


    "Tilly, please, if you can hear me, come back," she was shaking and trying to gulp air before continuing her plea, "Tilly, I-"


    "Ivian," I spoke as I grabbed her clothes.


    "Tilly!"


    "Hold!" Saul''s orders came again, "relax your weapons, the boy''s alright."


    I felt warmth begin to calm my racing mind. Two hands, each the breadth of my whole shoulder encased my head and back.


    It was almost suffocating, but I didn''t care, there was nowhere else I''d rather be.


    "Thank the fortunes," Ivian mumbled into my head. I had never seen her like this, sobs shaking her whole body as they shook mine too.


    "Iviaaan, waaah" I couldn''t stop myself from crying.


    As all the stress flushed out of me, I just felt wave after wave of relief. A void grew within my chest, and tears poured out of it with a natural overflow, like water in a bubbling mountain spring.


    "We can give them a moment while we take care of the corpse," Saul''s voice spoke again, but I didn''t put my mind to it.


    There was Ivian all around me. We were safe. I had succeeded. We were both alive and father''s squire, Saul was here to save us.


    I didn''t want to think of anything else, my hunger and pain just a problem for later.


    "I was so scared," Ivian began to say, "when that man started screaming and stabbed at Nistan who was holding you, and then you were jumping and shrieking too and the blood, it was spurting all over your gruesome smile, I thought... I thought that you... but then you were crawling to me, knife in your mouth. I hoped, but didn''t think it could be true. And then he was there again, swinging his sword at you..."


    Ivian was babbling as she still clutched to me.


    I wanted to tell her to take a deep breath, but all that came out was sobbing and tears.


    "I was so afraid... so, so afraid..."


    I was too. I didn''t even want to think of that sword ringing as it hit a rock and then slashing down again. Two close encounters with death that I only avoided thanks to my stinging, shredded hands and Nistan''s dizzied blood loss.


    "I didn''t know what to do. I just kept on hacking until the ropes were off, then went to the horse. I thought that maybe I could... I don''t even know, the horse was bigger and I could maybe distract Nistan... but I thought I was too late. You were just lying there, a little bundle on the ground."


    So that''s what happened after I fell. Ivian had come back for me.


    "I thought I had failed... Nistan got up and slashed the horse''s neck in two. I went flying and everything was spinning. I thought I''d soon be killed and then you."


    Hahaha, my sobs mixed with a quiet self-mocking laugh. It wasn''t me who saved Ivian, but Ivian who saved me.


    Even if Nistan slashed the horse in two, he couldn''t escape the ton of horse flesh and momentum that would have pinned him to the ground.


    I wasn''t the hero today.


    But it wasn''t so bad, I reflected, held in that warm embrace. I couldn''t think of anything better than being held in the warm embrace of my hero.

 Chapter 14: demon eye

    Ivian held me tight, even after Saul brought father over.


    "Ivian, you and Tilly have been through much, but we have to leave this place." My father said, in a hard, but not unkindly tone. "Saul, go tell the city guards from Bridgewater to saddle up. I will take my son and the maid. We should get going."


    "Yes sir."


    Father got Ivian to stand then unrolled a bundle of straw that he had been carrying.


    "Here, fit this over Tilvrade and put this one on yourself."


    They were bulky clothes made of straw of all things. Father himself wasn''t wearing one, so I wondered why I needed to put it on. The jacket was much bigger than I was, but seemed at least to be made for a younger boy.


    I was too exhausted to make a fuss and we were soon heading towards the exit of the cave.


    There was still rain, though it was a different sort now. It was less turbulent and cold, almost a brume that floated persistently downwards to the ground.


    Through the grey brume, I could see a dozen men, and a couple more at the edge of the clearing standing watch. Each of them, other than father and Saul, had the same teal blue crest of a three petalled flower emblazoned on their leather armour. It was the insignia from when the ipocond''s retinue had stood in front of the manor.


    "Pricel!" I shouted when I saw our third companion. Fortunately, he seemed unharmed, if very pale.


    Pricel was lying down at Nistan''s feet. Based on the snippets of conversation we had heard, I suspect Pricel was the original target of this kidnapping.


    A whole two years, Nistan had spent, apparently just trying to get into favour to take the role of Pricel''s shadow. Why so much effort for such a little boy?


    Father seemed to think that Cond Bairv was grandfather''s retainer, the same as Cianna and her family. I didn''t know anything about nobles and their politics, but it seemed a bit extreme to me for a bit of infighting.


    Even if I was just a side trophy, Nistan would have to have been convinced he could sell me too, instead of facing the ire of his would be rewarder for Pricel.


    And the crooked nosed man, if he was an accomplice, it seems it was no coincidence he had tried to become a stablehand just days before mother''s father''s arrival. It all seemed too coincidental though. How would they have known we were looking for a new stablehand just recently?


    Pricel looked up at us and I didn''t see any of the bubbling curiosity of the first day of his visit. But his strained smile reassured me nonetheless.


    "My lord, if we could go see if Pricel..." Ivian suggested to father, who was surveying the men.


    "Not now Ivian. We have a lot of ground to cover and a flock of shriekers to watch out for." He looked down at Ivian with an apologetic curve to his lips, then looked at me. "I would bandage my son immediately, but we didn''t have time to prepare such things when we found out Nistan had taken you. It was fortunate Cianna was able to thrust the rain coats on me at least."


    I honestly wasn''t too worried about my scrapes and bruises. Sure, they are bothersome, of course, but I know that a simple healing spell can stitch together superficial wounds like this in moments.


    I tried not to think too much about my father''s mention of bandages.


    "Where are you injured? Is it just your leg?"


    There had been too many things taking my attention. I was ashamed to only notice Ivian limping on her right leg at father''s mention.


    "Are you okay?"


    I asked worriedly as Ivian responded to father, "I feel bruised all over, but nothing serious other than my ankle. Shh Tilly, I''m fine."


    It made me somewhat happy that we had mirror injuries.


    "Karbrol, right? Your assistance, if you will." My father called and a bearded man with a round face and broad shoulders who walked over.


    "Yes, my lord?"


    "Give the maid a hand, while I hold my son."


    I don''t believe my father had ever once held me before, so I had some unease as Ivian held me out to father''s waiting hands.


    As he took me, I saw again the hard calluses at the root of each finger. Even through the straw, I could feel the strength of his hands, obvious from the ease with which he held me. I expected his hold to be reassurance, but he was indecisive and hesitant as he held me, transmitting some of his awkward anxiety to me.


    He was known as a knight, a warrior and leader, but I felt that just to hold his son for a brief moment caused him fear and maybe wonder.


    Or maybe it was just distaste at the smell of baby, dirt and blood that wafted to his nose...


    Nevertheless, I appreciated that hesitant hold, much more than I would have a decisive, inattentive one.


    But it was only a moment, without even eye contact before Ivian had been hoisted onto the horse safely and accepted me back into her arms.


    Then the horse paced forwards and back, perhaps nervous of all the unfamiliar people around it.


    As soon as father jumped on, he had it begin walking forward, and Karbrol was running to his own steed to join the growing file of knights and squires, mostly from the ipocond''s retinue, heading back into the woods.


    It was a long and dreary passage, neither Ivian nor father saying much. They sometimes shifted or apologised awkwardly to each other, some kind of hesitation, perhaps because of status, at sharing a horse.


    Fortunately, the straw jacket was much more effective than I would have thought, keeping most of the water off of me and Ivian.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Birds from behind!" A lookout once shouted, but it turned out to be just a flock of long-billed geese.


    It was something I had noticed before, but was too caught up in fear to really think about. Both the Elk with its sharp and jagged crown and the birds who were around us earlier and now all seemed more vicious or just larger somehow than their brethren in the ghostly images that flickered around me. A thought for another time perhaps.


    Other small stops to check a trail or path were not infrequent. When we stopped, sometimes I would fall asleep, but only for a few moments, before the horses plodded along again.


    Even in the brume, Ivian and I only seemed to get dirtier, the rivulets of water smudging already caked mud and gore across our clothes and skin.


    A number of times, I had to close my eyes, stinging from dirt and exhaustion. I wanted to sleep for real, but even though father kept the horse trotting slowly, it was like a jolt through the bruises on my body each time it took a step.


    Long hours haunted by the calls of birds and the memories of a similar horse travelling the other way made me even more happy to see the familiar field that we finally emerged into.


    As we did step out of the trees, I could see mother in the distance, a look of terrified suspense marring her features.


    A bit away from her, mother''s father stood, also looking to us in worry.


    She was somehow able to preserve a ladylike poise as she ran up to the horse. Her father, just waited, perhaps unable to do the same thing with that girth sitting around his waist.


    "Tilly, my sweet Tilly," She said, looking at me in horrified worry. "your eye... Sivis, what happened? Is he still our Tilly?"


    As she mentioned my eye, I realised that the terrible scratchiness in my right eye was not just exhaustion and rain.


    Ivian lifted me up and I saw her gasp.


    "Oh no, Tilly! Talk to me!"


    "Ivian? My eyes are itchy..."


    "Demon eyes," my father said ominously, staring intently at me. "I have heard of such a thing, but Tilvrade''s eye was just a bit red when we left the ruin. It''s not the glow of a shrieker. Did anything happen without my noticing?"


    "No, my lord, I don''t think so," Ivian responded uncertainly.


    "How could we let this happen? Oh Tilly. And you are covered in cuts and bruises too."


    Here I was, safe and sound, finally at home, and now mother decided to descend into a panicky plight. But I was still pleased at the fuss and her attentions as Ivian passed me to her. Hopefully my eye would be alright. There was a doctor who could use basic heals somewhere, right?


    Not far away, mother''s father was also putting his arms around Pricel, trying to reassure him everything was fine now.


    "Ivian," mother said, as she cupped my bum and head through the straw jacket, "I don''t know how we can ever repay you for saving our son."


    "My lady, it was not I who saved your son but your son who saved me," Ivian said modestly.


    My mother couldn''t suppress a smile even as she was choking up.


    "Ivian saved me, on a big horse," I corrected.


    Mother didn''t take either of our words too much to heart, confused at my gesturing at father''s horse and perhaps disbelieving that a baby, even me, could have played a part.


    "Thank you," she simply said.


    I saw my father nudge his horse with his knees and his horse trot towards the stable as mother walked hurriedly back into the manor, Ivian following closely behind.


    I wonder if father''s horse had a name too, like Sandy.


    I was feeling much more fond of the creatures since one died for my sake and another just brought me home.


    "I don''t know how this could have happened," mother''s father said, walking towards us, protectively shielding his grandson. "Nistan was like one of our family. He has been with us for almost 2 years now. Why would anyone want to take my grandson?"


    "Father, I do not know either why that murderer would target your grandson or my son," mother said in a frigid voice, perfectly fitting the image of my cold father''s wife. "What I do know is that you brought him here and put my family in danger."


    My mother seemed ready to continue lecturing the ipocond, but Ivian unexpectedly interrupted, "Lord Ipocond, my lady, I humbly request to speak."


    "Of course, Ivian, please do," my mother spoke much more warmly to my maid.


    "That man, Nistan, he cast a curse of silence on myself and I believe on Tilly and Pricel as well. If not for that, we wouldn''t have just disappeared without shouts and noise like that." Ivian was shivering as she brought up the events of last night that I just wanted to forget.


    "Nistan cast a curse?" My mother''s father exclaimed, unsettled. "That''s impos... no, maybe not. I am a fool to have believed I knew the man. But even so, I don''t understand why."


    "My lord, both he and Drim, the other man with the crooked nose, seem to have been expecting to meet someone in Ibbergreen."


    "I must take Pricel inside," the ipocond excused himself. "Then see to Nistan''s body and belongings. Perhaps we can learn something yet."


    Ivian gulped as the ipocond walked away, before hesitantly continuing, "And... My lady, before you go in, there''s one more thing. I... I don''t know how exactly, but Aian''s death... the shaman might have been involved."


    "The shaman? What exactly does Shaman Ikstoff have to do with this villain?"


    "I don''t know, my lady, I don''t know," Ivian was starting to get flustered. "It''s just, he just, they were talking in the cave. Maybe it was idle talk...."


    "Ivian, I did not mean to frighen you. Please tell me what you heard."


    "My lady," Ivian bobbed her head and wiped her eyes, "It''s just those two men, when they were talking, Drim mentioned how Aian had died of the plague. Nistan didn''t seem to know of Ikstoff''s visit to the manor, but he immediately said that it couldn''t have been the plague, that we would all been dying if it were. Nistan seemed to realise something, but he didn''t want to tell the crooked nosed man. I don''t know anything more than that, we were all so tired and scared..."


    "Hush Ivian, everything is alright now, you need to look forward, as do we all," my mother carefully held me in one arm as she reached out to wipe a tear from Ivian''s dirty cheek. "No more of this talk of conspiracy and madness. My son needs to be treated."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    There was no healer, I found out to my horror as we figured out what to do in my room.


    "You must have been so scared, Tilly. But don''t worry, you''re alright now." Mother told me over and over again as she tended to my wounds as best she could.


    I was too tired and in too much pain to say anything, but not to prevent me from crying.


    How was I supposed to not worry? Of course I was worried. Mother was slathering some ointment on me, but there was no doctor, no healing spells, no ambulance and professional care.


    There was nothing I could do though, just hope that, by some miracle, I would get better.


    Fortunately, the ointment was good at one thing. It smelled so pungent that it took my mind off the pain as I needed all my attention just to keep breathing.


    Actually, it was a similar kind of smell to Grita that I now reeked of. Grita, who was no longer here to help.


    It had only been a little over a week since she came to take care of me at the manor but she was already gone from this world, the old midwife dead because of me.


    More tears poured out of my eyes as I remembered the old woman who had smelled of shoes and oily herbs, and was brash and overly opinionated about just about anything, but still strong of heart and kind of soul.


    I even missed that hint of loneliness I sometimes saw in Grita, hunched over in the chair. I would never again cheer her up by simply sharing a smile or the needs of the every day.


    Why was it that everything felt so much worse when I was now safely in bed?


    "I''m just grateful to the spirits that that ruffian turned into a shrieker," She mumbled something and grimaced each time she tenderly tried to heal one of my bruises or cuts. "It has been so long since there were possessed sighted in Valeford, but he got that wretch off of you."


    I wanted to be more helpful, at least by lifting my head or arms when mother carefully patted me down in a bath to remove the dirt and blood. Instead, my body would shake and tremor randomly and I felt myself falling asleep at odd moments.


    When she returned me to my crib, I woke again briefly as she treated the scrapes, cuts and purple bruises that seemed to be more plentiful than unblemished skin.


    Now, mixed with grey ointment smears, the yellows and blacks made my arms look like monarch caterpillars like one Grita had once shown me outside.


    I just had to hope that when this ugly casking fell off me, I would become a beautiful butterfly again.


    When... or if, I thought, my eyelids closing from sheer exhaustion over the stinging pain.

 Chapter 15: velikans

    It was morning again, and mother was putting more ointment on me.


    "If only I was there beside you," she whispered as she dabbed the cream on. I could have told her it wasn''t her fault, but she would probably just blame herself more.


    She handled me like a fragile statue that could break at any moment, but I didn''t have much I could say about that either. I just spent most of the last day and night waking up in feverish pain.


    If I stayed too still, the throb in my limbs from the pounding of the horses and the desperate crawl away from Nistan threatened to grow and engulf me. If I tried to turn over, a fire seared over healing slashes in my skin.


    It was particularly my left leg though where I felt pain whenever I moved it. I grit my teeth, however, in dark amusement as I thought of how that pain was what let me get Nistan off me as I cast my first unstructured spell in the middle of that exchange.


    Ever since the first night, when I fell asleep because I couldn''t stay awake, it had become a lot harder.


    Although I could sleep because of the strange cloud of haziness that enveloped my head, it was hard to ever relax.


    It only got worse after mother had brought in Karbrol, the middle-aged guard from the ipocond''s retinue to look at that wound. Apparently he had some experience with setting bones.


    He put a wooden splint on my leg, which he wrapped around with cloth.


    It had hurt so bad when he squeezed on my leg, putting the bone back in place. I had passed out on the spot and didn''t even see him do the rest. When I awoke though, my leg had been wrapped in a bundle of linens and I was told not to move it under any circumstances.


    For days on days, I slept more and ate less than I used to, and unfortunately had to learn yet again to endure dirty linens and their changing, since I couldn''t use the chamber pot in this condition.


    Mother and Ivian would take turns in my room. It seemed they weren''t giving much time to hosting mother''s father despite his lingering presence at the manor.


    Fortunately, my angel Ivian had thought up another genius idea to help me.


    She brought in a miniature water mill, that apparently Sir Barker had helped her make. It was really just two buckets, one on top the other, with a small wooden wheel in the middle that would go...


    Swish-swish-swish-swish


    I don''t know why, but listening to the whirring wood and splashing water do the same thing over and over again was nice. It stopped my crying and even sometime let me sleep peacefully for a moment here or there.


    I received another gift too, though I never saw it.


    The ipocond had once come to the room, and insisted on seeing my helpless form before he departed Olwick. Apparently mother had made it quite clear that as soon as Pricel was somewhat better, she expected them to leave.


    Father seemed much more forgiving towards his father-in-law, but he did not get into mother and the ipocond''s affairs.


    The ipocond brought a small glass vial of water with an orange tinge that he said would help with the pain. It was a beautiful vial, shaped like a bulb. It was seemingly made of clear glass, but painted with thin black branches and red dots for leaves.


    Instead of giving it to me though, Ivian had taken it with a smile and put it to the side. As soon as mother''s father had left, she had gone to her room and I heard her dragging a porcelain and then a splish of water from behind the door. Did she suddenly have to make pee?


    I only found out later when mother asked what it was that it had been filled with whiskey.


    My mother''s father''s good intentions seem to have been lost on Ivian and mother who were angry that he would have tried to give me such a thing.


    I felt somewhat wistful myself. What harm could a few drops of this stuff have done wrong? Sure, I didn''t know what whiskey was, but mother had mentioned that it might have actually reduced the pain. Anything was welcome that gave me a good stretch of sleep. But I decided not to say anything on the matter, for all I knew, perhaps it was a kind of poison.


    Again, I lamented that in this village there was not a single proper mage. Do they keep all the mages who can heal in the capital?


    Swish-swish-swish-swish


    Still, I couldn''t hold it against Ivian as I drifted off into another dream.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "They say that there once lived a race of giant velikan," Mother started to tell another tall tale, even though she looked and sounded exhausted.


    I have suspicions that she is skipping on sleep to take care of me, while still doing all that needs to be done by her in the manor.


    "They were part beast and part man, descendants maybe of mammoths or behemoths," she spoke, not thinking, perhaps, of the implications. "Wooly hair grew on their chests, even the women''s, and tusks they had curving up in front of their faces."


    "So strong and big these ogres were that they pulled veins of metal right out of the mountains and crushed them in their bare hands."


    That was indeed pretty fearsome, I thought, seeing the giants pound their fists into mountains in time with the throbbing in my head.


    "This was a time long before Efeles, and even before the King Iben Mershunt founded the Kingdom of Farrand. It was not men who ruled here, but the savage velikan from their giant, superterranean caves."


    It must have been a couple weeks now that I had been kept in bed, mother growing a bit less panicked at my discoloured skin and fractured leg. Seeing that I was still alive, she simply made time to be by my side and would tell stories or sometimes play on a flute for me.


    "That was until the first ancestors from the clan of Ibolidor came. They were horsemen and nomads, drawn by the northern trade. They came here to the forests and hills to build forts and castles, and fought to hold their ground."


    "But it was not easy to fight the velikans who ate their women and babies and could crush warriors between their hands."


    "Then, a man was born to the Ibolidor clan. He was one among many of the failing clan who sought refuge in the Southern lands. They say he travelled across the land but never forgot the giant velikans that ate his kin. So he sought a teacher to learn to fight. First a warrior..." mother said and slowed down, "a warrior who wished," she was pausing as she spoke, looking at me with eyes closing, "to teach him the sword..."


    For a moment, I grew worried, thinking she could be ill, but steady breathing and a peaceful countenance indicated she had just fallen asleep.


    Did these velikans really exist? It was hard to know. I may have dismissed them out of hand just a few days ago, before I had seen the shriekers. Nasty things, both the birds and Drim, robbed of his sanity, I still know not how.


    I think the caves mother was talking about, where these velikans lived, made by bending giant veins of metal with their bare hands must be the ruins. That seemed wrong.


    I felt awe at the memories of a stage, lights and the music that I listened to in my mind during that day in captivity.


    Still, the only thing to suggest the domes might have been the concert stages of my delusions were the fact they were round. The rivulets of water, both from the rain and the ground and the lush verdant floor that made that cave were nothing if not natural. Who could say if velikans didn''t build it as an abode?


    I didn''t really know what to make of these strange memories.


    I would have to ask mother to finish the story sometime.


    I held out a hand to reach through the cradle, but hers were to far, so I just smiled and said good night and fell asleep.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Motheerr!" I whined thought it was a shout in my mind, waking up to sweat and pain.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    At night, I often had dreams.


    They weren''t the hazy snippets of another world, but dreams of darkness, of rain and of peril.


    Like all nightmares, they started calm.


    The dining table was its familiar shield shape. Mother and father were sitting down, as always, to eat.


    But as mother leaned over to take a bite of meat, blood dripped slowly off her chin and then she started to scream.


    Looking up at me, with front teeth growing and eyes turned red as blood, mother''s sudden transformation into a shrieking monster left me shaking and disoriented as I woke again.


    And thus did days pass, the ointments reapplied every day. Ointments that, I was quite certain, had no effect except to prove a chilly, slimy distraction from the aches and sores of my body itself.


    One day, not too long after my convalescence, father entered the room.


    "Dear, is everything alright? What about the hunt?" Mother asked in surprise.


    "Saul has taken a few of the men. We haven''t come across anything big the past week. It should be fine," father explained, "I went with Saul to the village, but the peddler stopped by recently and Gregrick handed me a letter he had received for me. It''s from my sister, Marian."


    I felt my hand rising towards my face but suppressed the urge to scratch my eye.


    "Lady Marian? Did father and Pricel get back to the capital safely? I maybe shouldn''t have been so angry with father..." father lightly shook his head, "Is it about the kidnapping then?"


    "You needn''t worry, my dear, she didn''t say anything about your father and Pricel. I would expect them to be back at your father''s residence in Seventhill."


    "But what did Lady Marian - I suppose I should say Lady Yse now? - have to say?"


    Father flourished a folded paper atop a heavy cloth envelope. What stood out most was the heavy seal of tallow on the seam. In it, was a familiar impression of a signet.


    For the first time in months, since I started to recover, I saw scenes of the strange other world I had been beginning to forget. In it, the signet rings, coat of arms engraved in metal bands appeared in my mind.


    There was an orb of light, the ones called virspheres that people carried over their hands. It floated on top of a desk, in front of a plump but officious looking man. Behind him, tassels of military banners hung from the walls. I was pressing a signet ring into the centre of that sphere and it glowed and changed in front of me.


    Another huge room, filled with fridges and shelves of foods in containers where I swiped the ring past a strip of plastic.


    Yet again, this time, I kissed the ring on my own finger, standing in a line with my team, across from my opponent, doing the same. We were dressed in the duel clothes and standing in the military campus field.


    The shape of the coat of arms seemed so familiar, and yet, I couldn''t make any connection between the signet rings and lumps of wax on the back of an envelope. Why would such a familiar tool be used so differently?


    "The short of it is that my sister suspects someone in the family," father said somewhat grimly. "I am not sure how she heard of the debacle, it is possible her fiance''s father Cond Yse invited Ipocond Phrans and Marian together, so that she could hear news of us. Regardless, Marian speaks of a difficult situation for the sijony."


    Mother listened but also looked at the letter now in her hands.


    "Tilly, would you prefer if we talked about this in another room? I do not want to frighten you."


    I shook my head just once to either side. I was somewhat frightened but I''d much rather be frightened than ignorant.


    "Cianna, he is not even two years old," my father stated, quite convinced I wouldn''t really understand.


    "You think that he does not understand simply because of his age?" My mother asked somewhat accusingly, "you do not know anything about Tilly, do you."


    "I admit I have not spent all that much time with our son, but, my dear, you do not have to be unreasonable," my father said defensively. "I will come by more often," he added after another moment.


    Taking that as a reasonable concession, my mother veered back to the letter and events in the capital, "we knew this day would come, Sivis. Your father is only getting older. It is no surprise the succession is in crisis, especially now, 7 years after you have been put outside of it."


    "He is not so old that he cannot visit his new friend, the Elafoz," my father said with a certain hint of disdain. "Still filled with delusions but afraid of the King."


    "That he is still healthy only makes it worse. Those vultures are going to be ripping pieces out of him and the estate for years."


    Mother flipped through another page of the letter.


    "Lady Yse says he is prone to tantrums, often shouting at his knights or Stegan and Dastan. The longer he lives like this, the more he will lose control."


    It seemed a distant concern, the feuds of family and an ailing grandfather in the capital. But it definitely troubled my parents.


    "Perhaps. I just hope we don''t have to face that chaos," father said, and let silence hang for a few moments.


    "I do not think Nistan''s hidden employer was after Pricel because of us, more likely that was someone from outside the Efeles faction. But it is not coincidence either that he took Pricel here in Olwick, and with him Tilvrade. Tilvrade''s birth is just too unexpected. I hate to admit it, but that curse was perhaps not a bad thing, hiding us for so long, no one expecting us to have an heir."


    "What do we do? Are they going to come back?"


    "I do not like what is happening with father and the sijony, but if we just continue to live in Olwick..."


    "Sivis, not now, let us discuss this later."


    Father left his thoughts unfinished and I thought of all I could not do, lying here in my cast, still covered in bruises.


    "Sorry Tilly, I did not think a letter would lead to that," mother explained as father left the room.


    The more I heard about it, the less appealing the capital seemed. Not a city of liberty, commerce and military faculties, but one of intrigue and despotism.


    I''m glad we live in Olwick.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "How is Tilvrade recovering?"


    I lifted my head from where I was staring into Semolina''s red button eyes. It seemed father had come to ask about me.


    I rolled on the bed, trying to find a cooler part of the mattress. It seemed that the heat coming from the window was even worse than my injuries these days.


    After the letter from his sister, father would visit from time to time. More and more frequently, in fact, as time passed and as I healed.


    He would always ask about my recovery and sometimes even ask me how I was feeling. Then, he might hold mother''s hand for a bit or sit near the window and ruminate before leaving.


    He seemed impatient about something.


    Over 3 spring and summer months, I had slowly healed.


    It was cuts and scrapes first, my elbows finally more bendable and my skin becoming smooth.


    Then the bruises, fading away. After another dozen days, mother stopped smearing ointment all over me, to my great joy.


    I hadn''t become a butterfly, but at least I just had three purple splotches left, nothing like the multicolour palettes of before.


    My eye was still recovering. I was really scared for a week as my vision from my left eye seemed to fade away, but, like my leg, it did slowly recover. Although my leg was still tender, I could see and stand, causes for great jubilation both for me and my mother.


    As soon as I was able to sit up without too much difficulty, I started eating the real stuff. Usually a slice of roast bird, that I so often saw mother and father eating.


    I tried not to gag when I first saw it in front of me, images of my mother with bloody fangs appearing in my mind. But the smell of meat and my mother''s tender urgings with a fork instead of the usual spoon in front of my mouth soon convinced me to give it a taste.


    The first few stringy pieces of it and I already wanted some more.


    So for the next few days, I ate and slept and tried to ignore the still lasting pain.


    But mixed with the never ending pain was the constant press and urging of memories. It wasn''t just the memories of Nistan and Drim. The memories of the strange lab and the grinning man with the stripes on his shoulder joined them.


    What was that other world and that room of counters and machines?


    There was something terrifying about that dream. How he grinned and then said strange things. I don''t know why he told me magic didn''t exist or what the gibberish about pristine runes and stasis runes all meant, but I knew that if I didn''t find out it would continue to haunt me.


    So, I focused on doing better at mana condensation and at remembering the symbols and things from the visions.


    I had Ivian bring me the wax pad that I had received from father so long ago. As I lay in the bed, I erased all the frivolous drawings that I had made before, and started being a bit more serious, writing down the things I remembered and needed to know.


    It didn''t happen all at once. I would remember certain things here and there as I thought about the shapes and magics of the illusory world. It was runes that came first, more naturally to me. Two of them were really iconic, almost as if a person had drawn them once.


    One of them was a simple image of a sun with curved spikes of light around it digging into a square of darkness. As I drew it, the pen almost started drawing of its own, tracing the lines of some template hidden in the muscles of my hand.


    The second that I discovered in those last days of my recovery was more insightful, bringing other symbols and ideas with it.


    The icon itself was of two triangles, one inverted on top of the other outlined in a shape that I remembered the odd word tetragonal prism to describe.


    It meant nothing to me as I stared at it, until I thought of the shaman''s strange tool, the weird glass shape with sand filtering from one bulb to the other as he put that curse of silence on me similar to the two triangles. All this time, I hadn''t realised what the shaman was doing with it, but between that and the icon in front of me, I realised it had to do with measuring time.


    Around the hourglass and the tetragonal prism, there were other symbols, seemingly important not for their shape and design like the icon but for their meanings, still hidden to me.


    It was frustrating, how I couldn''t quite remember. But the mana condensation was much smoother now.


    I remembered that a baby doesn''t really have much mana. The more ''you'' there was, the more mana you could collect from a day of attracting ambient mana, but considering that barrier, I was more satisfied with the few little drops that gathered in my stomach.


    It had only been thanks this little habit I developed, originally wanting to make new bubbles, that I was able to save my life and Ivian''s from Nistan. I still didn''t quite understand the sudden inspiration I had to use unstructured pain reflection or how I did it, but I still wanted to have that security of a mana well to draw on.


    Already, I could feel the drop of mana had grown into a pea-sized globe.


    It felt almost like an island of cold floating inside me and slowly growing a tree.


    Perhaps the benefits would accrue as I started condensing at a young age. Mana definitely seemed to exist, so maybe this society really was just in an age of ignorance, awaiting my glorious knowledge from the ghosts of the ancestors.


    "You''re scribbling on that thing again." Ivian said, sitting beside me and picking up the wax pad I had placed beside me. "It''s pretty but... are those shapes so interesting? Don''t you want me to tell you a story instead?"


    I looked up. It must have been quite comical or else rather eccentric, watching a baby draw little icons into the wax tablet.


    To be honest, I didn''t even understand what they were. I felt I was on to something, and that it was important, and could save my life again sometime, but it also made me feel sleepy and I wanted to cuddle with Ivian too.


    I put the board down and reached up for a hug. Every time I saw her like this, still here at my side, I felt relieved and happy, no longer taking her presence or life for granted. Fortunately, I didn''t have to worry about her going anywhere. I''d be with Ivian forever!


    "We are not safe here in Olwick." my father was saying in the corridor, probably to mother, "I am hesitant to go to my father, but it is better to go sooner rather than later."


    I only heard a bit of his voice, before his footsteps took him away. But Ivian completed the thought for me.


    "It seems you''re going to see the capital, Tilly."


    "The capital?"


    "Your parents are going to go see your grandfather," she explained, "I''m going to miss you."


    Why did I have to go to the capital without Ivian?


    "Ivian too!" This was an non-negotiable condition.


    "Tilly, I have to stay in Olwick. I still have my sister and Eve to look after. And Aian is resting nearby."


    What did the valet have to do with anything, I didn''t understand.

 Chapter 16: a long voyage

    I was petulant and difficult, the next month of convalescence. There was little pain anymore, bruises all but gone. Even my leg felt fine.


    Instead of telling mother or Ivian that my knee was healed and I was feeling better, when Ivian or mother came to the room, I clutched onto Semolina and rolled over to look at the wall.


    It was all because of the plot. Mother and father were going to pull me and Ivian apart.


    It probably didn''t help my mood much that I was condensing mana every day now that I was decently recovered. The daily struggle left me exhausted and cranky and something about the mana felt sharp and raw, cold and turbulent, not unlike mana was supposed to feel, just that memories of it and the real thing were different.


    Why should I go to the capital? And why wouldn''t my maid come with me?


    All I knew of the capital was that the ipocond had come from there, bringing Nistan and tragedy in tow.


    Father talked of his sister and family, but feuds and conspiracies seemed like a poor replacement for Ivian.


    "Tilly, please," Ivian coaxed, "turn over, look at me."


    "Don''t wanna." I said grumpily.


    A sigh left both Ivian and mother''s mouths and I guiltily looked back towards them.


    "Tilly, how is your leg?" mother asked, bending down to unwrap the linens around it.


    I sullenly kept quiet as mother bent and unbent my knee.


    "If it doesn''t hurt, then we can take all this off. Wouldn''t you like that?"


    "No."


    Maybe if I just stayed in bed, we wouldn''t have to leave.


    It was hot and uncomfortable inside, but not as hot and uncomfortable as it was outside. The peak of summer had already passed and it was getting cooler if anything outside now. Here, Ivian would bring me treats and I could focus on drawing out my memories of the runes when I had some time.


    Mother coaxed and Ivian apologised as yet another day went by. Mother decided we could stay a bit longer to my cautiously hopeful delight, before father came to the room for his now daily visit.


    "I hear Tilvrade is feeling better." He said to mother, "I have told Mr. Barker and Saul that we leave at the end of the week."


    "Sivis, maybe we can wait another month?" Mother asked on my behalf.


    "My dear, we have been over this before, the sooner we leave, the better."


    "Yes, I know, but maybe it wouldn''t be such a bad idea to wait for the fall. You father might not even be in Gristol right now. It''s such a big change for Tilly and he''s still recovering..."


    "Father will be there. From what I hear, he hasn''t left the capital this summer. More importantly, Tilvrade needs a quick break. Further dallying will just cause us all unnecessary pain." Father was impassive in front of mother''s attempts. "You do not want another incident, do you? If it really was Cond Bairv behind this, we need to confront him and my brother and make sure this does not happen again."


    "Do you really think he will? Your father has not said anything in 7 years. He must have heard about Tilly''s birth, if not Nistan too."


    "My father is stubborn, but what else can we do? I was never a politician, despite his attempts. I only know how to solve problems head on. He should not refuse to keep Tilvrade safe, but if he does, we need time to return here before the first snows."


    My parents, carried away in their own debate, leaving me to repent my recent petulance and seek out Ivian.


    Ivian saw me looking to her and came to be with me.


    "Ivian, please please please?" I asked, reverting to the simplest of expressions to solve my own problems head on.


    Ivian didn''t respond, but she pat my head and looked at me fondly.


    "Ivian," my mother said, once father left the room. "Please get a meal for Tilly. Then, we should look through his clothes to see what should be packed in my coach chest."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Noaah, aaah!" I shouted, as I was carried along by Ivian to the carriage in the sticky humidity of dawn. "I don''t want to go. I''ll stay with Ivian!" I screamed.


    "I apologise Ivian, he just wouldn''t let me carry him."


    "No, please do not worry, Lady Cianna. As I see him like this, I am almost feeling regretful I am not going with you to the capital."


    "Ivian, come with uuuus! I don''t want you to leeaaave..."


    "I know how close you and Aian were and that your sister doesn''t want you to leave Olwick, but I hope that next year might change your mind. We should be back in Olwick by next fall at the latest, if we don''t come running back before winter."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Thank you Lady Cianna."


    I wanted to resist getting in the stupid carriage that Mr. Barker had gotten from somewhere. But I didn''t want to make a fuss in Ivian''s arms either. My mother had trapped me well.


    I started kicking and screaming as soon as mother took me from Ivian. She dragged me into the small car anyways, my cries only making mother scowl as I heard the crack of a whip from outside.


    A tremor went through the carriage as it started to roll forward on the stony path towards Olwick.


    As soon as we got past the gate to the manor grounds, I calmed down. I was not yet resigned to my separation with Ivian, but I couldn''t help my curiosity in the new sights passing by.


    Unlike that rainy night Nistan took me through the forests, the path to Olwick was not through thick forest.


    We first travelled by an orchard that my mother said was the apple trees. Trees they were, but groomed in carefully planted rows. As we passed by, there were men and women picking the red fruit and placing them in wicker baskets. I wondered if the apples I had eaten just this morning had been picked by them too.


    Many of these tenders stopped and turned, bowing or waving at the carriage as we passed. Father, who was riding on his own horse outside the carriage with Saul seemed to be known to all of them.


    Once we passed them by, I leaned out of the window and noticed them still staring at us from behind. Perhaps the carriage was an unusual sight to them as it was to me.


    It wasn''t all that long before we made it to Olwick. At first, I hadn''t realised we were even in the village, only seeing little thatch and wood hovels, alien to my memories both otherworldly and from here. But as the huts started increasing in numbers with mud trails running between them, I realised we were in Ivian and Grita''s village.


    One of the people I saw was Ivian''s sister.


    Instead of the white clothing that I had seen her in at Aian''s funeral or the clean plaited dress she had at the manor, she was wearing a more worn down dress with a number of patches, similarly to a lot of the other villagers.


    Ivian''s sister was not looking our way. She seemed to be calling someone in the house behind her. It was one of the few houses we had seen that was made with stones and plaster, though only half of it.


    Then, as the carriage rolled forward and we came around the front, I saw Eve standing in the doorway, her father just behind her.


    Eve''s mouth was dropped open as she looked at the carriage. Her father seemed to be whispering something into her ear with a smile on his face. Behind him inside their house, I saw a few tables, mostly empty, except for a few loaves of bread that looked exactly like what Ivian brought to us at the dinner table.


    I waved and Eve came alive again, waving back and trying to walk forward before her father scooped her up.


    "Horsies!" she exclaimed, and I felt miffed that the horses pulling the carriage were more important to her than her handsome and noble friend.


    Fafi, who was jogging along out of sight below the window gave her a good bark to tell her what we thought of horsies.


    We kept on going though, and the angle of the carriage window soon hid the baby and her family.


    The carriage soon pulled up and I saw another familiar face from Aian''s funeral gathering. It was one of the three old men, the one who had been speaking of Aian''s days before mother and father had come to Olwick, as a valet to the steward.


    Father got down from his horse and went to greet the old man who seems to have been expecting us. After a clasp of wrists as greeting, father took a gigantic iron key with an ornamented double looped handle piece from a string around his neck and handed it over.


    "Gregrick, the manor will be in your care." He said as he handed it over.


    The old man bowed low and then accepted it ceremoniously. "My lord, this one will make sure the harvest is tended to and the taxes are paid."


    "Thank you Gregrick. I will leave Lord Jemson to you."


    "My lord, I know you are short on men. These two from the militia are still young and unmarried and could do well in your service."


    "Yes, I received your message the other day. I will be counting on them as we make our way to Gristol.


    Father motioned the two men on horses to join our caravan.


    Mother noticed my gaze and told me Gregrick was the steward. He would be moving into the manor in my father, the lord''s absence.


    And then, we departed Olwick, two more guards in tow.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The journey was boring and unending.


    A whole day, from when we left, I just sat in the carriage, rumbling along dirt paths. There were trees, trees and more trees to see and little else besides the uneven dirt path that jolted the carriage most uncomfortably.


    Fortunately, some of the carriage''s movement was softened for me as I spent most of the ride in mother''s arms.


    While we were still bumping along the country roads, I had at least asked for the rest of the story mother had stopped telling me now long ago. I remembered the tales of the velikans and the human hero as mother pointed out we were near the ruins from that dark night.


    The hero, after heading south, when mother fell asleep, had been searching for a teacher.


    He met a warrior who would teach him the sword. But he believed he would never be strong enough to face the velikans with only a sword, so refused him and kept on travelling. He met a duke, rich and powerful who offered to teach him how to command armies. But how would he raise an army larger than his clan to fight in the north?


    It was only after many years had passed that he finally found a warlock who said he would teach him to sacrifice his life in exchange for the power he needed to bring death upon his foes.


    Mother looked out towards the trees towering above us.


    "Your mother and father did not want to leave Olwick either, Tilly," mother told me, in the middle of her tale, "But sometimes all of us need to make sacrifices to protect what is precious to us."


    Mother continued her story, talking of how the hero trained with the warlock, only to rapidly age beyond his years. All the same, he studied diligently and learned the dark magics from his master until he felt it was time to go back.


    Wrinkles marred his face and thin bones made it hard for him to walk as he made his way North again. When he arrived in the village of the Ibolidor, he was received with disdain and fear by his failing clan. They did not want a warlock, cursed by his own choice, to come back to their clan.


    Still, he told them of his resolve and the story of his travels and was able to convince them to raid their enemy with him.


    With a host of warriors to protect him, the warlock arrived in Macani, the lair of the velikans.


    And there, he turned on his own, saying it was for the greater good.


    Mother tickled me gently and interrupted her story again. "The warlock was lost and desperate, bitter at the sacrifices he made. He even felt resentment to the clan he wished to protect, still huddling in the North, living their lives, cowering just to take things easy. But remember, what the warlock did was evil. Even evil acts can achieve good sometimes, but that does not mean they are excusable."


    Somehow, using the strange magics of his master, the warlock cast a hex with the lives of the men over the velikan cave. The hex brought desolation, not just to the velikans, but to the whole area around the caves. Plants shrivelled and birds and insects died and even water ran black for a time.


    Even today, the Macani ruins are surrounded by remnants of the hex, no trees able to grow around the giant domes. The warlock himself never knew the happiness of triumphing against his hated foes. He himself died there only leaving the scar on the land as his grave.


    "Olwick has been our home for 8 years now and there, your father and I had you, our great joy. But there are evil men who won''t let us be. So please don''t hold it against us. We only want the best for you."

 Chapter 17: the eccentric lord

    We arrived after the long day of travel, and perhaps one day wasn''t so bad considering how slow the carriage was.


    Unfortunately, where we arrived wasn''t the capital, but in Ibbergreen, that very village Nistan had wanted to whisk me off to.


    We didn''t stay long in the village. The sky had darkened and mother had pulled the shutters and curtains of the carriage closed. She told me the people here weren''t friendly, and that even at the tower, were weren''t safe here.


    ¡°Make sure you stay by my side, do you hear?¡± She whispered, squeezing my hand. ¡°If anything happens to you, shout for me, alright?¡±


    I nodded and shivered, even though I was warm in her arms.


    The carriage kept bumping around until I heard voices outside of the carriage that was slowing to a halt.


    "Lord Scafel, thank you again for your offer of rest during our travels.¡±


    That was father.


    "Not at all, it is rare to have visitors, Lord Feles, and a small pleasure of mine to show the chateau to my most esteemed neighbour."


    After mother simply unlatched the lock, Sir Barker started opening up the door and curtains from the outside for us.


    My father was talking to a gentleman in a purple velvet vest, who had come outside to greet us. The man looked twice father''s age, slim though not fit and spoke in a peculiarly high-pitched voice, reminding me somewhat of shaman Ikstoff.


    "Yertrand, come around and take their man and horses to the stables," he told a boy, not all that much older than Pricel who seemed to be the stable boy.


    The chateau as its lord called it, was fitting of the noun. Unlike our manor in Olwick, this one was a tower, thick and shaped, not circular, but a tower all the same.


    I forgot my fear from mother''s words and the nighttime carriage trip as the lord guided all of us up through a tiny stone spiral staircase. I almost giggled as father in front of us had to bend his head to avoid hitting the bottom of the stairs above.


    "Excuse the small stairwell, the chateau dates back to soon after the founding. Although it saddens me that the Scafels were not always the lords of Ibbergreen, my great-great-great-grandfather, one Paike Scafel got Ibbergreen did come by this honour after he served valiantly under Verston Mershunt I in defeating the arrogant Keiranians."


    I was already feeling sick to my stomach from the carriage ride and this man''s apparent obsessions with his family history were making me feel even worse. At least he didn''t seem dangerous.


    "It is a point of great pride for me to have one of the longest lineages in Efeles. After yours of course. None match the sijon''s line."


    I yawned as he kept my travel weary parents from sitting, insisting on showing them paintings and portraits and other curio he seems to have collected in his living place. It seemed we didn''t have much say in the conversation, despite being guests and family of that great sijon.


    More than once as he was speaking, I saw him glance at me, but, oddly, he didn''t seem to be looking so much at me as my mother''s chest. I looked too, but it wasn''t as if she was wearing the jewelled brooch she sometimes did.


    Eventually we did sit, in somewhat austere chairs with cushions piled on top. Despite the impressive facade of the chateau, the chairs and draught made Lord Scafel''s boasting feel hollow.


    In fact, his breezy tower was a rather nice, if musty reprieve from the heat outside, but his pretentious prattle made it impossible to think of anything but Ivian all alone in the Olwick manor.


    "Let Urga take the baby to another room while we sit down to our repast," the lord of Ibbergreen dismissed me with a wave of his arm. ¡°Urga!¡± He shouted and I flinched at the hidden anger in his tone, ¡°take the babe somewhere to eat.¡±


    A very wide woman with a permanent scowl stepped forward from the edge of the room. To my great relief, instead of following the lord''s wishes, mother responded to Lord Scafel that she was feeling somewhat ill after the long carriage ride and had to excuse herself from the surely wonderful banquet that our host had prepared.


    "I am afraid I am not feeling all that well after the carriage, Lord Scafel. I will see my son to sleep and get a breath of fresh air before retiring to bed myself." My mother suggested to my relief instead.


    Soon we were following Urga down the narrow staircase that I was astounded she could fit through.


    "Urga, do you know where our coachman is?"


    "Uh, the old man who came with you?" Urga said while wringing her hands, "Wouldn''t he be out at the stables?"


    "Lead us to the stables please," my mother said curtly.


    "Alright, milady."


    The stable that Urga led us to wasn''t attached to the tower. We had to walk through a thicket of trees in the dying light of the sun.


    It was not hot in the evening, but I still clung to the warmth on mother''s shoulder as the change in temperature gave me a chill. I slipped my toes into the elusive fold in mother''s clothing where they fell near her waist. I had grown a lot since I was injured by Nistan.


    Before we could even see the building, I could smell the horses.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Fafi announced her approach tail wagging side to side as he came to walk with us.


    She looked like she wanted to bark, twitching left and right every so often, but Fafi had something clenched in their mouth that she didn''t want to drop. The hair of her muzzle, particularly under their nose and mouth was all red, and by the bone sticking out of the thing, it seemed Fafi was ripping through a leg or arm of some furry animal.


    The stable was a rickety wooden thing, pretty much identical to the one back home. The boy, Yertrand, that we saw when we arrived was inside.


    I was shocked as I saw him stick a metal hook into the foot of one of our horses. I looked sharply at mother but she didn''t seem alarmed.


    "The stable boy is just cleaning out the horse''s hoof." Mother told me with a smile. "We all had a long day and we don''t want her to get bruised."


    Horses get bruised? Wouldn''t jabbing a metal hook into her foot bruise her then? No matter, mother says it''s fine.


    "Yertrand, do you know where their coachman went?" Urga asked the boy.


    "Urga?" Yertrand looked up from the hoof. There was a tinge of fear in his crouched shoulders as he looked first at Urga and then at us.


    "Mr. Barker!" the stable boy then shouted and we heard some clatter in the back.


    "Good evening Mr. Barker," mother greeted him. "Tilly and I will be going to our chambers now. Do you think you could bring in my chest in now?"


    "Of course, milady."


    We walked back to the tower, now with Mr. Barker and Urga each carrying one side of the chest that was on the back of the carriage. The first few stars were appearing and I wondered, not for the first time, what they were, and why I didn''t seem to have any recollections of stars.


    Urga told us to wait outside as they took the chest up, but mother insisted we go ahead of them.


    The chest kept clunking on the walls. It looked very awkward bringing it up through the narrow spiral. Mr. Barker below seemed to be holding most of the weight, but it was Urga who asked to put it down at the first floor.


    We went up three floors before Urga showed us into a small room where they lay the chest down in a corner.


    "Urga, once you catch your breath, please go get Tilvrade''s meal. Mr. Barker, please stay a moment, I could use your help."


    Mr. Barker who had been about to leave turned around.


    "Right, milady."


    Once Urga was gone, I felt mother''s smile disappear, as she bobbed me up and down nervously.


    "Look at this place. He fools himself into thinking he is an aristocrat despite his slovenly lifestyle."


    "Milady," Mr. Barker said quietly, "it''s not right for a coachman to be in the quarters. What did you need me for?"


    "Sorry Jom. That man and this place put me on edge. He had the nerve to talk about his lineage when he knows full well I''m from a new noble family." Mother seemed quite distressed by the lord''s earlier prattle.


    Maybe there was a hidden conversation going on behind what I could understand.


    "I just want you close by, at least until my husband returns. This is where that mesmer said he would take my son. I told Sivis this was a bad idea. He just told me I was overthinking. Can you believe that the man told me to just hand Tilly over to his maid?"


    My mother was definitely offput.


    "Yes, milady. I shall stand just outside the room then." Mr. Barker responded and made his way out.


    Despite my mother''s concerns, or perhaps thanks to them and Mr. Barker standing guard, nothing went wrong over the course of the evening.


    She did, however, ask Mr. Barker to eat a spoonful of the barley soup with meat and carrots that the maid left at our door and waited until it was cold before she fed the rest to me.


    I focused on my daily mana accumulation feeling that tingly chill rest in my abdomen before sleep took me.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I knew I was dreaming when I saw the dark spire.


    It was unlike the tower in Ibbergreen, its edges twisting around like a screw. Each lap the spiral ran, it overlapped the edge above, obscuring any core from view.


    At first, I thought it was far in the distance. It was small, but so very detailed, even the little drops of darkness circling around its peak like birds circling their nesting grounds.


    But it wasn''t far, just small. Or perhaps it was me who was big here, even though I was still a baby. I had thought it far because I was lying on the ground, the spire right in front of me.


    Well, that was unusual, in my visions and dreams, I was usually different. I never really saw myself, but I was like father, tall and manly. Why was it that this dream was so different?


    I gasped as one of the flying black splotches disappeared into my finger where I had reached out to touch it. It tingled with cold and pain, just like the mana I felt in my abdomen.


    Mana, but dark, liquid and foreign, holding pain instead of power.


    The miasma circling the spike grew thicker as if reacting to the pain it caused me.


    I turned to run, concerned that I could feel such clear pain in a dream. But all there was in front of me was the precipice falling into the red clouds, the sky encircling me in all directions.


    I panicked, but in my search for escape, one of the clouds opened, rays of white light piercing through this world.


    As the light hit me, I disappeared, dissolved into waking darkness.


    "Mother?" I called nervously into the dark room.


    I felt an unfamiliar cushion beneath me, and didn''t realise for a moment where I was.


    I could hear mother''s breathing in the room falter.


    "Tilly?" A sleepy whisper responded to me.


    Then mother''s arms were around me, her warmth dispelling the scare from the dream before.


    She whispered something to father who left the room. Then just pat me on the head and rocked me to and fro until I fell asleep once again.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The next morning, we all ate in the Lord got Ibbergreen''s dining hall.


    Both my parents looked rather grumpy and tired.


    "Morning ho," the lord gave us a chipper greeting but then, noticing father''s frown explained apologetically, "ah, just how we''ve always said it here, morning ho, haha."


    An awkward silence filled the dining hall as Urga and a valet brought some plates from a side door.


    "Ahum, well then, long journey ahead for you, Lord Feles, yes? Nothing like a good breakfast before riding."


    "Yes, thank you for your hospitality. It makes a journey a lot more pleasant to sleep in a proper bed."


    "Yes, quite, yes quite."


    Either Lord got Ibbergreen didn''t hear father''s emphasis or he didn''t think it proper to take heed. Instead, he started to talk of father''s return to the capital.


    "Excellent to hear you are returning to the capital, Lord Feles. You have by far the most legitimate claim."


    Father stared quietly for a moment at the lord opposite him before donning a thin smile.


    "Your opinions are kind. However, I am going to the capital for my son, not a title."


    "Indeed," the lord got Ibbergreen responded knowingly, "It is no less important for your son to inherit the position."


    My father didn''t respond, though he did maintain his thin smile as he cut another slice of a bacon and put it in his mouth.


    Urga brought another bowl of a watery porridge, made of barley. It wasn''t very tasty, but mother cut me some of her bacon, so I didn''t complain.


    Our host prattled on, repeatedly expressing his esteem for my father and for his own noble forebears.


    I was rather grateful he didn''t express any interest in me through our whole visit, or much in mother either. Much better that he just pestered father.


    My parents seemed to be just as eager to leave as I was when we finished eating and Mr. Barker seemed to have anticipated that, as he had the horses saddled and the carriage stopped in front of the tower when we arrived outside.


    "Please stop by whenever you return. It is an honour to receive the future Sijon Feles at any time!"


    The lord bid us farewell as the horses began to move.

 Chapter 18: procession through the woods

    Fortunately, there was no night quite like the first one in Ibbergreen. Other than the seemingly endless wooded paths and dirt roads that preceded the evenings.


    The next couple days, we again stayed at manors of the nearby lords. Both of the manors were more like our own home in Olwick than the lonely tower of Lord got Ibbergreen. Lord Vapelle and Lord Manon both welcomed my mother and father courteously but in their own ways.


    Lord Vapelle and his wife were warm but careful, no hint of empty praise or boasting. Lord Manon, on the other hand, was reserved if polite, spending little time other than to welcome us, even excusing himself from the dinner, claiming business in the village of Geul nearby.


    Lord Vapelle and his wife were both young. They had 3 valets at their beck and call, to serve us a meal and care for the property.


    Vapelle and my father even went to the fields to ride around the grounds after the dinner, though the lady excused herself from my and mother''s company.


    We simply went to our chambers where we had a warm basin of water awaiting us for a quick wash.


    I was given a newly carved crib, from which I could still smell resin and wood. Perhaps the lord and lady were expecting a child of their own soon.


    The shade of the deep red wallpaper perhaps would have made an impression of cozy warmth in the winter, but as it was, the colour of the walls where sunlight reached them made me remember my nightmare from the tower in that strange place with the spire.


    I tried to close my eyes and focus inward, pooling yet another infinitesimal drop of mana in my slowly growing core.


    Perhaps by the end of the voyage to the capital, I could start practising with some proper spells.


    I slept for a bit, until I was awakened by father''s return. We were all in a single room tonight. But as he and mother blew out the candles, I fell asleep once again.


    As I slept, I relived the nightmare of the black spire once again.


    Gasping awake, I kept from calling mother who had looked exhausted most of the day. In any case, I knew that I could turn around to escape into the ray of light, so it wasn''t as bad this time. Still, the repetitiveness of this dream was unnerving and I had trouble sleeping again as I stared into the dark, a ringing in my ears.


    The next night, at the Manon manor was more quiet. Most of the manor seemed empty and dark. Once the lord left to the village, it was just one older manservant who served a simple dinner and showed us to our rooms.


    Riding in the carriage on the fourth day, I wondered about the recurring nightmare.


    It was a very different type of dream, both from usual nightmares and the recollections of the laboratory, where that captain told me time magic did not exist.


    This one was more real, tangible. I could feel pain and control my actions. Fortunately, as I would grow panicked if I couldn''t simply turn to the red clouds to seek the light of escape.


    Was it yet another curse?


    There was a strange obsession with dark magics here. Even in my mother''s stories, I heard of blood-crazed vampires and evil warlock heroes instead of prodigious mages and allies of justice.


    There''s no reason to place a curse on me just to make hallucinations of dark spires in my dreams. But then, there''s no reason for flocks of northern forest birds and other animals to be cursed as shriekers either.


    If it was even a curse.


    I still couldn''t forget my nightmares of Drim, already threatening me and Ivian before he transformed, and then shrieking and stabbing Nistan without any sanity.


    I told myself I was overthinking this. It was just a complex lucid dream.


    I had just been uprooted from my only home and Ivian, transported to distant lands. And grandfather was a looming presence, as ominous as the spire itself. Perhaps the tower was my grandfather, a representation of my worries creeping closer as we approached the gates of the capital.


    The horses drawing the carriage and Mr. Barker who guided them seemed oblivious to my feelings, simply moving forward into the forest road the next day as my parents had asked.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The next night, we camped and there was finally some fun.


    "Here''s the spot!" Mr. Barker suddenly called out from the front of the carriage, at seemingly just another part of the road.


    I didn''t quite understand where ''here'' was until the horses veered off the side of the road, taking our carriage for a bumpy ride between the trees.


    "We''ll be sleeping in the woods tonight Tilly," mother told me. "I still remember my first trip to Olwick. Your father told me we''d spend the night under the stars and I had thought he was joking until we arrived in this very place."


    Mother seemed happy at that memory, so I was happy too.


    "There was a village not far from here once, but Cond Yse and Cond Bairv were ridiculous in both claiming it as their own. The double taxation scared everyone away and your grandfather never considered it his matter to deal with."


    Mother snorted daintily.


    "To make matters worse, the village''s houses were burned down later when expelling bandits who had taken up residence. At least we don''t need to worry about bandits anymore."


    Mother took me out of the carriage and towards a log that was lying beside traces of a fire place. It was a ring of stones with the remains of dampened charcoal, perhaps used by another traveller not so long before us.


    Meanwhile, Mr. Barker started unloading the back of the carriage, where the chests and other supplies were. He handed father a metal stake and a mallet and the other two men from Olwick more stakes and a bundle of canvas.


    Father quickly took the stake off a ways, and sunk it into the ground.


    "Byl, bring over the ropes and make the bowlines," He called.


    "You will be sleeping in the carriage tonight Tilly, but don''t worry, we''ll be right here in the tent beside you." Mother told me, as we saw Mr. Barker and the other man start to set up poles in the grass nearby.


    They had thrown down two bundles of canvas a few meters away, so it seemed to be for two tents, one for my parents and the other for the three.


    Fortunately, there was no rain, or else I''m afraid the carriage would have been crowded.


    "Vis, this one," Mr. Barker said as he foisted a pole on him.


    "Vis?" I asked, puzzled. He definitely wasn''t the Vis I knew.


    "The Vis you''re thinkin'' about is my cousin," the man who grabbed the pole from Mr. Barker said, "We''re both named after our grandda. I wasn''t born in Olwick like my cousin. Feels like I''m going home now, to the capital where I grew up."


    He grinned at me and then turned around to start putting up the tent.


    Father and Byl tied the horses up to the stake and then walked off into the woods.


    Everyone was so busy, I almost felt like I should do something too.


    "Fafi!" I called out, when the dog came into my sight.


    I completely hadn''t noticed her since we came out of the carriage, but she must have run ahead, since she was lying down just on the other side of the fireplace.


    Fafi looked up, but she didn''t come to play. She must have been tired from walking all day.


    Father and Byl soon got a fire started with some pieces of wood they had retrieved from the woods. And then they all started preparing food and drink, all carefully stowed in the back of the carriage.


    There wasn''t anything made especially for me, so I just ate some of the stew along with the rest of my family and retinue.


    The fire was warm and I was feeling full, but mother passed me to father as she got up to go to the woods herself.


    "There''s a ring around the moon," Mr. Barker was saying beside him as father ate another spoon of his second bowl of stew.


    I looked up and it was true. It was like the moon was stuck inside a big bubble.


    "Mmh. Looks like rain tonight after all," my father said, "the canvas will hold?"


    It wouldn''t be so bad to have mother with me in the carriage, but more than that might be a bit crowded...


    "I waxed it before we left. We''ll see what the clouds bring."


    It seems Mr. Barker had prepared.


    When mother came back to the clearing, she brought out a flute. She had played it before for me, while I was recovering from my broken leg, but never like this, under the stars.


    The flute itself made airy notes, it caught air in little blips as mother''s fingers came down for the next note or trill.


    Mother''s playing was elegant, her fingers continuing to move as she brought out new notes of melody. It was both uplifting and sad, the two sides of her song melding together and hanging in the clearing, over the crackling of the fire.


    It was with that melody and the sound of my father''s vigorous applause still in my head that I went to sleep on the worn leather surface of the carriage seat.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Kitterkititkitteritkitkit


    I woke up panting, in the dark empty carriage.


    The carriage door was rattling, the metal latch trembling around, buffeted by a breeze.


    I tried to close my eyes again, but dim stripes of light chased the carriage''s shadows in a circle before disappearing again.


    Kititikitik


    The latch kept on chattering and I heard the wind through the trees,


    I put my hands on the sill and pushed the shutters open a crack.


    Heavy but sparse drops of rain met my nose and eyes as I saw a line of horses and riders at a distance through the trees.


    Bandits?


    I tensed, thinking of mother''s story of the nearby abandoned village from last night.


    I was about to shout to mother in the tent outside, but froze as the blue light caught my eyes again.


    It was the people and their horses that glowed a bright blue.


    A woosh of wind through ruffled leaves was all I could hear, even though horses and men were in blue were growing closer and closer to me.


    It was another foreign memory, a vision come to life.


    I shivered and pulled a blanket over my shoulders and continued to look with one eye through the thin crack in the shutters.


    As they approached, I could see the paleness of their hair. Even though they were blue lights, there was depth to their faces that looked solemn as they marched.


    A path of cobblestones I had not seen last evening spread out ahead of them.


    As they walked right up to the clearing, an eye met my own.


    My heart leapt as I stared at the girl, the same age as Pricel.


    She stared right back at me, through the gently falling snow. She looked so familiar, so beautiful, like Eve, or Ivian.


    She smiled and then I knew no more.

 Chapter 19: Sam Ivers

    I dreamt that night of azure blue eyes.


    They stared at me, a smile underneath.


    But they weren''t the eyes of a girl, nor was the smile one of joy.


    The blue eyes were a reflection of myself. The smile was strained but determined.


    "Sam Ivers," I spoke at the face in the reflection.


    Around me was nothing, just the privacy of the void.


    "My name was Sam Ivers, officer in Lucia''s military."


    I raised my hand to pass it through my straight white hair.


    It was smooth and long, reaching down to my shoulders.


    As I saw myself and talked out loud, my life, though still hazy, became clearer.


    "I was a mage and a researcher, a specialist in runes and virtual arrays."


    I thought of the duel team that I had seen before in the field.


    "Derek and Joey, friends and teammates. We lived in the same dorm, and started a corporation."


    "Izabeth," I whispered and the reflection in front of me rippled.


    Instead of my own ghostly image from the floating world, I saw a woman, her eyes and set of her mouth both stern and caring.


    Lieutenant Izabeth, was my superior officer. She had taught me of virtual runes in academy days.


    I don''t know why, but I felt something go missing within me as I stared into her reflection''s vacant eyes.


    There was something more between us, something important, something gone.


    The reflection rippled again, and in front of me was an older man.


    He had a round face and bulbous nose, framed by two thin partings of hair that fell in front of his shoulders, and made him look fat despite his frame that looked no larger than father''s.


    I had seen him before, he was in that vision where I had used a signet ring.


    "I''m afraid the details of Lieutenant Izabeth''s mission are secret," He responded to a question that I must have posed. "We all have our role to play for Lucia. I expect much of you as well."


    I felt like I had just forgotten something, but quickly took ahold of myself. I couldn''t be in a daze when I was in front of the Major.


    "Yes, sir."


    I had asked about Izabeth, but no luck there. If Izabeth was currently on a secret mission then it would be dangerous to inquire further.


    The Major pointed at an orb of light floating above his desk.


    "Confirm the contract here, Officer Ivers."


    Feeling a sense of familiarity, I watched as I extended my hand towards his desk and pressed a signet ring into the centre of that sphere. It glowed and the document inside the orb disappeared.


    "Very good. How fortuitous that one of our alumni would be looking to help us right when we need you most. Lieutenant Jebries can brief you on the project and your role tomorrow morning."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Not at all, fortune is with me, sir. I shall endeavour to contribute to Lucia''s glory with the lieutenant starting tomorrow."


    My stomach twinged as a breeze from the door I opened brushed passed the golden tassels hanging behind the Major''s desk. Despite the affable person he seemed to be while he talked with me, the pomp of his office and the sternness of his work expression gave me a chill.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    When mother awoke me the next morning to a sunny morning, I opened my eyes and stared.


    I was Sam Ivers, officer of Lucia.


    I was also Tilvrade Feles, son of the Lord of Olwick.


    Each day and each night, I grasped something more and now, I finally knew a name.


    But I tried not to dwell on my new memories and changing identity.


    I felt more alert as I remembered the spark. The young girl of the blue tinged people, walking through the forest.


    "I had a dream," I told mother as she picked me up and looked down at me.


    "Oh? And what did you dream?"


    I pointed to the trees.


    "There were men on horses," I said. "They were walking on the road over there."


    "The road? Over there?"


    Mother asked and I wriggled a bit so that she would put me down.


    I walked over to the trees, mother hovering behind me.


    The clearing was exactly as it was, not even snow on the ground.


    As we got closer to where I saw them, it all felt silly, like a dream. There was no road through the forest where, during the night, the road had previously been. There were only knee high ferns and baby trees and moss on the ground.


    Was that girl last night with the long pointed ears looking at me not there and then, but through the rain and trees of my half forgotten memories?


    "Milady! Over here, we''re ready to go."


    At Mr. Barker''s shout, mother picked me up and said we had to go. Father and Byl had saddled the horses and were already mounted, waiting to leave.


    Mother accepted Mr. Barker''s hand as he helped her step up into the carriage, and then we left the mysterious spot in the woods and were back on the road.


    At noon, just after we stopped to eat, the forest soon opened onto a lake. The hard packed earth path traced its contour until we came across a crossroads.


    We turned onto the new road, much broader and paved.


    It was just as bumpy as the dirt roads, perhaps even more. But we no longer had to stop from the wheels occasionally getting caught in the mud or fallen branches needing to be cleared from the road.


    Each day, there were more and more people on the road, and we passed through villages more frequently.


    We still travelled through woods most of the day, but sheep and cows and horses grazing in the grass became more and more common as we approached and left the small villages.


    I even waved from time to time to the men or women looking up from throwing seeds or leading oxen through the muddy furrows of their fields.


    The nights were also very different, inns and taverns providing little rooms and private dinners.


    They were all somewhat similar. Noise would bother us from the tavern below and half of the innkeepers who showed us the rooms were oily and obsequious, the other half gruff and fat.


    Then, on the seventh day, we entered the capital, Gristol.


    That morning, when we were just leaving the inn we had stayed at, father had sent Byl to ride ahead and inform the manor that we would be arriving later in the day.


    I was excited to see the capital that mother described as the carriage ambled forward.


    "This is East Gate," mother told me, noticing how I gazed at the new scenes. I looked at the bustle of city life, the criss-crossed roads and the men and women crying out fresh pies and new knives.


    "It''s a bit dirty here as we get close to the gate, and we''ll draw unwanted attention, so let me close the shutters, alright? There''s not much to see anyway," mother told me.


    Another carriage was passing beside us just as mother was closing the wooden shutters.


    It had 4 horses, was bigger and had a shiny black sheen. It didn''t have shutters at all, but three panes of glass set on top of the door. On the door, there was a coat of arms: a boat and a sword, each repeated twice in a checkerboard pattern.


    This was a place where nobles would be everywhere.


    "We''ll be arriving at your grandfather''s residence soon," my mother started adjusting the ribbon tied around my collar. "Try not to pay attention to your father and grandfather. They are not on the best of terms, but your father will come through."


    I was a bit disappointed not to see much of the big city from behind the closed carriage doors, but it seemed like the missed sceneries of the capital were the least of my worries.


    My mother seemed nervous as the carriage progressed through the capital''s streets. Frequent stops and starts and the jostling and shouts of people outside made me feel uneasy too.


    Then the carriage stopped and moved no more.


    Light poured in as the door opened and I saw the castle in front of us.


    It didn''t have spires or turrets, but it had a giant wing to each side, jutting in front of the double doored entrance that was framed in a portico of 10 pillars.


    Mother stepped out into the courtyard holding me in her arms.


    Father was in front of us, already speaking with one of the many people there.


    An older moustached man with ramrod posture bowed in front of father.


    "Welcome home, young master Sivis," he spoke with a melancholy smile. "The sijon awaits you inside."

 Chapter 20: the sijon

    "If it isn''t my prideful son, come crawling back to the capital to seek my displeasure."


    My grandfather''s mouth spewed poisonous words the moment father opened the door to his study.


    He was perhaps a handsome man once, traces of his nose and eyes giving father his well cut features. But he was now fat and bald. The brown patches on his skin and his eyes and smirk just added to my repulsion.


    My father, who was walking ahead of mother and I, bowed and replied stoically.


    "Father, circumstances have changed. Despite the curse, as I''m sure you know, you now have a grandson."


    "Bah! A grandson of mine? Back for your inheritance now that that wench has given you a son? Her brood is no grandson of mine. You disgrace this house with their presence."


    Father didn''t flinch but as I heard him speak about my mother like that, I felt immediate dislike of this man.


    Why did we come here anyway? Let''s wipe our hands of this man and be away.


    I looked at mother but her eyes were fixed intently on the floor, not looking up, but not noticing me either.


    "Well? What of you?" My grandfather challenged as father stood silent, probably holding himself back from certain words. "Speak or be on your way."


    Was this what father''s childhood was like? Scolded by this man and constantly forced to be obedient? No wonder he ran away with mother.


    "My wife is not a disgrace and neither is my son," Father stated stubbornly. But my grandfather just looked at him with that smirk.


    "The wench brought shame upon all of us as much as the Cofferer''s foolish daughter," grandfather was adamant regarding my mother''s sins. "You chose her and ignominy, so you may consider the inheritance the consequence."


    I saw father tremble in rage or perhaps helplessness before he finally spoke again. But he just kept on banging against that unbudging wall trying to get to grandfather''s non-existent mercy.


    "I am not here for your money, father. I don''t regret my decision. What I regret, is that I still have loose ends. Hunters of your legacy are sending assassins against my child."


    Father took a deep breath while grandfather raised an eyebrow quizzically.


    "Ironic, isn''t it, that you would come back to try to cut ties. If you wanted to stay out of this, you shouldn''t have left your little quirinie. What did you really come here for? Revenge?" He asked and I swear I heard a hint of a mocking laugh. "Let it be, Bairv''s son has already paid with his blood."


    "I am here for my son. To make sure he is safe. He almost died when Cond Bairv''s son kidnapped him."


    "And? What does Bairv''s debacle have to do with me? Go cry to your father-in-law who brought the man to your home," grandfather sat forward and clasped his hands behind his desk.


    Despite his continued cold words, there was a hint of something in his forward posture. He seemed very aware of what happened, and almost curiously awaited father''s next response.


    "Don''t pretend it was the ipocond''s plot. Nistan was after his heir as well as mine." Father spoke with determination. "And it wasn''t Nistan who was behind the threat to my family. Just a month before him, there was another attempt on my family''s lives. A curse of pneumonic plague with enough mana to last through two victims."


    "Is that true?" My grandfather frowned, for the first time taking on a more serious expression.


    My father just stared at him silently.


    "Father, all that can wait. The reason I returned is not for revenge, though I want to know who is behind it too." Father swallowed before continuing. "I know I am not the son you wanted, that we have had our differences, but even if you don''t acknowledge my wife, Tilvrade is still your grandson. Your grandson is in danger because of your inheritance issues. I don''t need your inheritance, he doesn''t need your inheritance. But protect him, please."


    One corner of grandfather''s mouth turned downwards as he sat pensively.


    It seemed he really hadn''t known about the shaman, and despite himself, was taking his son''s plea seriously.


    He didn''t say anything though, just picked up a small bell, which he rang, the tones of metal striking metal filling the wood panelled study.


    The door opened and in came the same moustached valet who had led us here.


    "The Edbrian," my grandfather told him, "I will think about this further." Then waved us all away.


    I wondered what that meant as the moustached man led us through the door, but as father didn''t complain, I wasn''t too surprised that we were shown to a room in the wing.


    When the door was closed, mother sat down on one of the two richly upholstered chairs beside the fireplace.


    She sighed out, exhausted as I was from the voyage and odious comments.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    She was surely enduring even more than I was as grandfather spoke viciously, as if ignoring that we were even there.


    Father was also quiet, simply walking to stare out the window.


    It was the valet who broke the silence, knocking and then opening the door, showing through two other men, one of them just a boy really, who were carrying in the familiar chest from the carriage.


    "Here are your belongings, young master, my lady."


    "Thank you..." mother put a hand out in front of her, inviting the valet to something.


    "Barker, my lady, Lyum Barker. And these are Huje and Jovey."


    "My lady," both of them looked up to say as they put the chest down.


    "Just ring the bell if you need anything and they will come to help."


    "Thank you all. Are you by any chance-"


    "Jom''s younger brother, my lady. It is nice to see him again," the butler smiled.


    "Of course. Then you should go spend some time with him. We need some rest anyway."


    "My lady, young master," the butler said nodding, "at your service."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I saw little of the mansion over the next few weeks, mostly living in the Edbrian, the chambers along this part of the wing named after a princess who had married into the Feles line some generations ago who had it built.


    The walls of my room were covered in a bright yellow wallpaper, blue patterns standing out in the same colour as the heavy curtains that blocked the light from the windows at night. There was a door near the windows that connected to my parents'' chamber. On that wall between the rooms was the hearth, cold iron right now, but a large fire in the winter that would bring light to the room along with the chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.


    There was even a mirror and two paintings, to either side of the crib on the wall opposite the windows. One of them was of a couple boys blowing bubbles and the other of a child posing in armour.


    Even the crib was ornate. Instead of the simple wooden frame I was used to, it was white, with a canopy of its own and gilded frescos in the board just beyond my feet.


    For all the pomp and ornamentation, however, it was a dreary place.


    Over the fall and winter, it was my gilded cage.


    Sure, Simila, the maid, brought me a whole bunch of toys: a wooden pony, a painted miniature tower with little knights on horseback, a spinning top with two sapphires in it, which must have cost as much as the rest combined, and even more. But I would get bored of them quickly, somehow their initial excitement quickly wearing away, as if I had already been there and done that.


    Instead, I spent time at the windows.


    Mr Barker was no longer outside with all his hobbies and tricks, but there were three gardeners, who took turns clipping the hedges and weeding the patterned floral gardens. There were also others, ladies in frilly dresses and grandfather once passed by, waving and shouting at another man in a long tailed coat and ruff fit around his neck.


    It was intriguing and beautiful... the first month I looked at it, at least.


    What made those gardeners so obsessed with the shaping of a tree? Why grow so many flowers instead of something useful, like apples or wheat?


    "Tilvrade, why don''t you come here and play with the pony." Simila asked me, in a variant of her usual urging. I knew what she really meant was ''get away from the window!''.


    I didn''t like Simila and she didn''t seem to like me. Nevertheless, she was always there, fulfilling a duty for years of her life that she didn''t enjoy.


    She didn''t like that I looked out the windows all day. She said it was creepy, and that I''d draw attention from anyone who saw me from outside.


    That''s why she always brought new toys, I think.


    Why did Simila always feel she had to stick to my side?


    The only thing fortunate thing about this place, was that mother spent much more time with me here, perhaps feeling herself that this mansion was cold or estranged.


    Unlike Simila, mother had a lot to talk about and often played with me.


    While I didn''t have many chances to leave the room, growing increasingly moody and childish as time passed cooped up in there, mother took me out to the stables every so often.


    "Fafi!" I tumbled backwards as the white haired dog tried to jump on my shoulders. For all of Grita''s worries, I had never gotten worms until now. Fafi was a clean dog.


    "She missed you," mother said, kneeling beside me to make sure I was alright.


    Fortunately, I had fallen on a pile of hay and was perfectly alright.


    "That old man left''er ''ere and went off last week. Been whinin'' and moanin'' till you came." One of the stablehands shouted out as he came to tidy up the hay that had scattered a bit.


    Unlike the stables back home, these ones were huge. There were three carriages in this building - and it was a building, made with stone and mortar, unlike the barn in Olwick - and there was another set of stables on the other wing of the palace.


    To go with all the size, there was also an army of stablehands.


    "Careful, that old man is a knight," mother said, not receiving the stablehand''s interjection warmly, "you shall call him Sir Barker."


    "Yes, milady," he hastily replied and I could see he would probably not talk to us again. I wonder why mother did that sometimes...


    Just after that happened though, the other occupant of the stables walked in. It was one of the coachmen of another noble.


    "Our carriage, now." He shouted and the stablehand we were just talking to cried out ''yes, my lord'' along with a couple others and put down his pitchfork to go and hitch horses to one of the carriages.


    The lord, who looked to be a middle-aged man followed them to go see carriage.


    "Why, if it isn''t Cianna Phrans," the lady who came in with him saw mother and me and approached.


    "Lady Argenta," mother said, but something about her quiet tone and downcast eyes told me she was hoping this lady would leave us alone.


    "Sit," I whispered to Fafi who seemed to want to go up and sniff the lady.


    "Is that the famous boy?" She looked down at me and Fafi.


    "I''m Til-"


    "Tell me, is it true?" I started to introduce myself, but she interrupted me. "Or did your husband get him with a maid?"


    I looked at mother. I didn''t really understand what this lady was saying.


    "Lady Argenta vis Tram, you will take that back." Mother said with a withering glare.


    Lady Argenta, however didn''t seem to be phased, which ticked me off.


    "Ohoho, my curiosity got the better of me. How careless of me." She just giggled and explained it was a misunderstanding. "But look, my husband and Lady Ephelia Feles vis Tulvert Bairv are waiting for me, please forgive me, but I must be on my way."


    My head turned to look over at the mention of the names. First this strange lady who put mother on edge and now the name Bairv.


    Fafi''s ears flattened to the sides of her head as I looked over her at the two men talking in front of the carriage. It was hitched to the horses now, but it was another lady who was standing with a kerchief to her nose outside of the stable doors who I was looking for.


    The woman looked to be younger even than mother and father. She looked as if she wanted to be anywhere other than the stables and was not paying much attention to anyone inside.


    "Take care of yourself, Cianna. I''m sure you aren''t making friends by coming to the Feles palace to show off the boy."


    Her hips and dress swayed as she walked away daintily, adjusting her broad hat. It seemed they were all leaving in the carriage, so I hoped we didn''t run into her again.


    "Sorry Tilly, don''t pay her any mind." Mother put her hand on my now growing black hair. "Let''s take Fafi to the side of the palace and not stay in the courtyard, alright?"

 Chapter 21: fathers visitor

    It was hard to be inside so much, but it was even less fun most of the time to go out and explore.


    There were a few other times, when I went to take Fafi to the gardens with mother or followed Simila into the hallway when she had gone out to get fresh linens or something from the kitchens.


    Every other time, however, it seemed there was a mocking smile or some lady who wanted to jeer at mother in their prude underhanded ways.


    Even Simila sometimes looked at my mother and me with disdain. Or maybe it was pity, but it was hurtful to me either way.


    It was one day, as the air from the opened window was getting cooler and the sun had set even before dinner even happened that I heard the name ''Bairv'' again from the door to my parents'' room.


    Father seems to have had a guest, a man by the sound of his voice, who was in their chambers.


    Simila had left the room, so I brought over the toy castle tower. By stepping on it with one foot, I was able to comfortably turn the key in the lock and then pull on the handle and slip into the next room.


    My parents'' chambers were quite large. There was a bedroom, a drawing room, a study and even a servant''s room behind the bedroom.


    My room was beside my parents'' bedroom so I wasn''t seen as I walked across it through the dark and put my ear to the door.


    "... behind it."


    Father had just said something as I was getting in position.


    "It wasn''t me, if that is what you suspect," the man said, "that boy was always too keen to poke his nose into matters he had no business meddling with. My sister, I''m afraid had too much of an influence on him."


    "That is... I wasn''t aware you had a sister."


    "We don''t speak of it often, she was a mesmer. A bit like you now that I think about it, too rebellious to listen to her father when it came to marriage and too talented to live peacefully. I just wish she was talented in the quill rather than the arts."


    "Do you know if she or any of her associates were connected with shamans?"


    "Shamans?" The old man snorted, "If you mean the shamans from Klistoss or Barrad-dur, then it''s possible she might have written to some, but she would not have consorted with the sort that we have around here."


    "And what about him?"


    "Don''t you think you''re a bit too pigheaded on this?" The other man paused, perhaps taking a sip of something. "I did tell Dastan I would do this, but that favour only reaches so far."


    The old man paused, but then he spoke again "I can''t speak for that ingrate, but if you''re concerned about shamans, perhaps you should look closer to home."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Surely you know that twink has had his eyes on Olwick for years. His cousin was a shaman. Upstart peasants. You know, the one in Ibbergreen." I wasn''t following much of the conversation, but I picked up on Ibbergreen.


    "Oh, not at all, please do." the man said. I hadn''t heard who had spoken in between.


    "Ah-!" Mother suppressed an exclamation as she opened the door.


    "Is everything alright?" The man asked.


    "Yes, my apologies," mother said, while shooing me away from the door. "My foot just caught on the carpet."


    "I do thank you for that. Do you know anything about the poison they say the Leslie heir..." my father was changing the subject, but mother closed the door behind her.


    "Tilly, what do you think you are doing here?" She said angrily in a semi-whisper. "Where did Simila go?"


    "Sorry," I said and I felt my ears burn a bit.


    "Back in your room, now," mother just pointed her index finger over me towards the still open door to my room. "I do not want to catch you eavesdropping ever again, do you hear me?"


    I felt a heat beneath my eyes that I knew were tears about to come out. Mother had never scolded me before. I had never done anything to make her mad.


    I ran back to my room, but stepped on the tower lying on the floor as I tried to close the door.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The turret crenelations dug into my foot and I winced as I felt forward, slamming the door as my head knocked into it.


    I put my hands against my forehead which was now stinging and closed my eyes to hold back the tears, but they still leaked down down my cheeks. I think I might have cut my foot.


    "Tilly," mother said from across the door. She sounded even angrier.


    I didn''t mean to...


    The door opened and mother glared at me then saw I was crying on the floor.


    "Stop crying on the floor and go to your bed right now." She hissed.


    I clenched my fist to withstand the hurting and stood up. My foot didn''t seem to be cut after all, just in pain from stepping on the tower the wrong way.


    I limped back to my bed and tried not to make any noise as my chest hiccuped in sobs.


    "Tilly..." Mother said, and she sounded frustrated instead of angry, "Why are you doing this Tilly?"


    She came up behind me and picked me up with an arm around my stomach.


    "What did you do to yourself?" She had the tower in her other hand. "Did you use this to open the door?"


    She put me down on the bed and then walked over the chest of toys where she put the tower back inside.


    "Sorry," I said again. Why did I have to go and spy on father and his guest?


    "Just don''t do that again." Mother said and she came around and kissed me on the forehead. "You''re too smart for your own good."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I thought a lot about what father''s visitor said over the next few days.


    I knew somehow that they were talking about me and the fief.


    I still didn''t know who it was and when I asked mother, she told me it was none of my business and that I hadn''t learned my lesson, for which she said I wouldn''t be going outside to see Fafi that day.


    I didn''t ask again...


    The man had talked about his sister, a mesmer and some boy, but I didn''t think he meant Pricel and I didn''t really know any other boys. Mesmers were the mages though, and he evidently knew something about mages, since he knew the shamans were shams too.


    I did at least know that the man from Ibbergreen was that pretentious lord of the tower with all his great-great-grandfathers. I didn''t like him much and now I liked him even less. I didn''t think he was capable enough to cast a proper spell, let alone whatever it was the shaman had that killed Aian.


    That didn''t mean, however, that he couldn''t have hired someone. I just hoped he wouldn''t be able to do anything to Ivian and Olwick while we were here in grandfather''s house.


    If it was him and he really did think he could take Olwick, then we had to do something.


    I felt so helpless here, but I don''t know that I would have been able to do anything even if I was in Olwick. I needed to quickly get stronger. Find the magic of Sam Ivers to defend us from father''s enemies.


    So I continued to condense more mana and to sketch the icons and formulas I could remember.


    Mother also gave me new things to study, telling me fewer stories and fairy tales as before. Instead, she would show me drawings of icons in a heavy book.


    She told me about the names and crests of the noble families, pictures of their crests, a few of them familiar, like the teal flower of Pricel''s family and the tree that was on some of the carriages at the manor and that my father sometimes wore.


    I learned of the various ranks of nobles, the sijon under the king and the conds and viscounts who oversaw the lords of the sijonies. They were very much like the dukes, counts and viscounts of Lucia in Sam''s world.


    Confusingly enough, there were six sijons, or dukes, but really only four. That''s what mother told me near the beginning. The dukes, in Farand, were powerful, often acting like kings in their own ducal lands. They ruled over the 4 dukedoms of Farand: Bretos, Efeles, Hartun and Leslie.


    I rather enjoyed the maps mother brought me. There were cities and rivers, and the sea not all that far from the capital itself. It was much more interesting than the tops and dolls.


    The capital was in the middle of Bretos, which was in the middle and north of the kingdom. Efeles and Leslie were much larger, one covering the East and the other curling around Bretos to the South and West. Hartun was just a small circle to the West, not even half the size of Bretos.


    Then there were lineages and histories and households and heirs.


    Leave it to say that my mother had no difficulty putting me to sleep at night.


    But one story stood out from the rest. The story of King Iben Mershunt, the founder of Farand and his son, later King Wikhem Mershunt, the Elafoz.


    Almost 3 centuries ago, Wikhem had made north to expand the family''s fortunes by seeking trade with the elves.Herode against his own race with the northernelves andwas granted the title of the Elafoz, the elk, and a steed from his northern friends. It was with this opportunity, that his father rode north, and made a trade route into a kingdom, forcing the horsemen and knights to bend the knee.


    Even today, the crown prince, Grairin bears the title Elafoz. He is also one of the 2 other dukes, honorarily in charge of the small Duke of Ginishilla where the last grove in Farand still grows.


    Every decade the elves make their way to the capital, meeting the Elafoz and bringing trade.


    They are white of hair, had sharp tipped ears and bright coloured eyes. A detail that mother mentioned off hand but that stood out to me.


    It was a hint. A clue to my past and that odd night on the way to the capital.


    One of many, that mother and my dreams give me over the winter.


    It wasn''t long after the visitor that the snows started. And with the winter and cold, it seemed my nightmares just got worse.


    Each morning when I woke up, I ran to the windows to open the blinds and reassure myself with the blue or grey sky. Sometimes the black spire and the crimson clouds looked too real and the whirling black stuff around the tower only grew thicker and faster. No longer looking like specks of dust or microscopic birds flying lazily around.


    It probably didn''t help that I didn''t go outside during the winter months.


    Mother described the capital, so near and yet so far. The two sets of walls and all the districts inside. She described the markets and manors near West Gate, the merchants and artisans of lower town and the grove and hunting grounds of the king to the north.


    To be honest, hearing of these places so nearby, I wanted to be out and about, to see and smell. It seemed a cruel and unusual punishment to keep me inside, sullen Simila in tow.


    At the same time, I still felt afraid. Father was busy these months, looking for our enemy and meeting old friends and foes.


    It felt so strange to be near the one who put a reward on my death. I sometimes wondered of Simila was a spy, or if the mocking voices who spoke to mother outside had also cackled as they set a price to my blood.

 Chapter 22: Cinder

    Winter in Gristol was nothing like in Olwick.


    The Edbrian rooms were warm and the bright yellow of the wallpaper seemed to make the room brighter, as did the light coming through the enormous glass windows. They weren''t all one sheet of glass, but small squares that filled a frame made of wood in a checker pattern.


    I felt that I had managed to make some progress as I remembered what arrays were.


    Sam had been a specialist in arrays and something called virtual arrays.


    Runes all had specific and limited effects, the sun-like rune I had drawn before, for instance, made something glow, or the hourglass in the tetragonal prism that stopped time in a small area, the stasis rune from my dreams.


    Arrays were a bit like runes, but more complicated. Instead of a single icon and a set of tethers, arrays were often incredibly complex and seemingly jumbled and chaotic madness if you didn''t know why they were shaped the ways they were.


    Arrays unlike runes, however, could be made to do anything. In theory.


    In practice, they were the realm of mad wizards, rich kings and historians, far too dangerous to make without a lot of planning and research, and usually the interest of historians who studied the ancient arrays that still inspired Lucia even so long after the Treaty of Azar.


    At least, that''s what I imagined, but I was only half certain I was myself, my thoughts all a jumble of wonder and new ideas that I could hardly sift through the truths and the fantasies.


    For all my scribbles and drawings, I realised as I moved my hand to write down ''Treaty of Azar'' that I didn''t actually know how to write. Sam had a whole alphabet that it seemed I should know but none of the symbols actually came to mind as I thought of the very different squiggles in the books that mother had shown me.


    I wanted to keep track of that treaty, since Sam seemed to think it was significant somehow, but I would just have to figure out how to write it down later.


    Fortunately, mother was trying to teach me all these noble things, which, although tedious, gave me an opportunity.


    "What does it say under here?" I asked her when she brought the heavy book over later on.


    "This list, you mean? These are the different knights of Count Jerstein''s army when he charged the flaming sword in the foothills. It has already been 37 years since the Scaled Prince retreated though. Most of them are not even alive now."


    "Can you read them for me?" I said, curious to see what the letters sounded like.


    "The names of the knights?" Mother asked, amused, "I think not. You should be learning the families right now. Perhaps, if you''re curious, you could ask Sir Barker to tell you about the war. He was there, fighting under your grandfather''s banner, before he was decided as the duke. There are many stories he could tell you of the occupation of the Leslieduchy and the sudden retreat."


    "Is Sir Barker a knight?" I asked, distracted by another topic.


    "Hmm? You didn''t know? Sir Barker was your father''s instructor when he was young. It''s from him that he learned the sword."


    I had always thought of Sir Barker as the old man who did odd things in the yard. But it seemed he was an accomplished warrior in his own time, a knight who fought in a war to protect Farand and Efeles before himself becoming the instructor of the duke''s heir.


    I wonder what happened that he would abandon that position and prestige to follow father into voluntary exile in the farmlands of Olwick?


    "Here, this says ''Cond Kris Jerstein got Overhill, the commander in chief of the Farand army met with King Verston Merhunt II on the eve of the battle..."


    It felt like yet another boring story, but at least in those letters, I had something to focus on.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    As the winter went on, I got better at letters, though the result of that was that mother had me start writing random things and people''s names down.


    I didn''t really want to write or draw much during the rest of the day.


    In fact, I spent more and more of my time spinning the top with the shiny sapphires or looking out the window at the snow covered garden.


    It seemed that once it was cold enough, the gardeners who had been carving trees in the summer started carving blocks of ice instead. At all times of the year, the palace gardens were filled with beauty to show off to visiting dignitaries and rivals.


    I didn''t really have a good angle from my room and had to push my head up against the cold glass in the corner where the window met the wall. The whole window was set in a sconce, and with the curtain blocking the last of the warmth from the fire on the opposite end of the room, I got the full chill seeping through the wall.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Lilting notes reached me, seeming to hang in the air.


    The sound of the flute was both soft and heavy, airy and solid. Mother''s vibrato on the long notes gave the sounds a sad feeling, as if the winter affected even the air inside.


    I left the window and crept across the room. Fortunately, I was now just tall enough to just hop a bit and turn the key and handle, unlike a couple months before.


    She lifted her eyes as she saw me enter the room, and then she changed what she was playing.


    Suddenly, there were trills and skips and mother was dancing a bit while coming towards me.


    I giggled as she stopped in front of me.


    "Happy birthday Tilly," she said while I clapped at her performance. "Shh, don''t tell your father about that one, okay? I thought you would like it though. The lower town jigs have so much energy."


    "It''s my birthday?" I asked, a bit surprised.


    I recognised that term from Sam''s memories but it was the first time I heard it here.


    I spent most of the morning humming the tune mother played and dancing in my room.


    Simila was there watching, but I had grown used to ignoring her. She wasn''t exactly the funnest sort, but she didn''t have any problem with me having fun.


    Mother didn''t have me look at family crests or anything else tedious today, so until lunchtime I just let myself go.


    Then Simila brought me to my parents'' drawing room. Father was there and Saul and Sir Barker, who was holding a light coloured saddle. Byl and Vis were there too, dressed in valet''s attire. I hadn''t seen them much since the journey from Olwick, but they were helping mother and Simila bring in plates from the door to the servants'' quarters.


    I wonder how they got food there? Was there another staircase behind where they slept?


    I remembered the previous winter when Ivian had come back to us after spending time away and I had eaten basbusa, that honeyed semolina cake that had opened my eyes to the flavours of the world.


    There were no candles this year, with all the natural light in the room, but there were the same honeyed treats and some kind of warm, sweet smelling beer that father and Sir Barker drank but wasn''t given to me.


    I saw the phantom ice creams again and smoking creme brule in front of me, but this year I wasn''t fooled. Those were just fakes. Not real.


    Unfortunately, Ivian was also not real, just a memory of a year past.


    I wiped my wrist against the corner of my mouth, and shut my eyes. Why were the images so cruel? Whether it was Ivian or the sugary sweets, I wanted them here and now, or else not at all. Better to enjoy what you have than to dream of what you don''t have.


    "Congratulations, my son, on your second year." My father told me with a hand on my head that sent a tingle through me, somewhat like the sugar did. "May you have many winters to come."


    I didn''t miss what he and mother said this time. It was my birthday today, the second one.


    "And here, this is for you." Sir Barker said, as he came to give me the saddle. "A tad big for ya'' right now, but you and Cinder''ll grow into it."


    It was heavy and almost as big as me, but the leather smelled new and I felt it was my own.


    Tiny festivities over for a tiny boy, my parents then ate the rest of their meal in the room while Simila carried the saddle back to my room for me.


    I found out later that the saddle wasn''t actually the present my parents gave me. It was from Sir Barker himself, something he had made this past year, playing with leather.


    Cinder was my horse, still a child, like me.


    He snorted and shied away when I reached out a hand. It seemed he didn''t like getting pat on the head. But he kept on putting his nose on top of my hand and sniffing at me, so I naturally kept putting my hand on top of his nose to pat at him.


    The back and forth over and over again started to make me giggle. He was so funny, couldn''t he make up his mind? I think we were off to a great start!


    "He''s still young and needs to grow, but we''ll have you learn to ride on a pony maybe later this year, when we''re back in Olwick." Father told me as he held me in the stables, amused at Cinder and my meeting. "You''re only this lucky since Sir Barker found out there was this fowling. A lot of training between now and when he grows up but you''ll never have a more loyal steed."


    I mainly just heard that we were going to go back to Olwick and felt a surge of excitement. I wonder why we even had to come here in the first place.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I stared at the painting of the boy in armour on the wall beside my crib with blurry eyes.


    I had not left the strange place immediately as I looked on the red clouds.


    Instead, I saw another spire, on a floating island in the distance. The island looked like a rock, jagged cuts tapering underneath it but it seemed smooth on top, like the place I was on, surrounded by the precipice on all sides.


    When I looked at it, instead of the clouds opening up for me, the world blinked and I found myself in front of the other spire instead.


    It was small, like the first one was at first, no bigger than the other one that was now slightly below me in the distance.


    This one seemed a bit different though. It didn''t have the same dust around it, even the few specks like the other one had from the beginning. Instead, it seemed to hum, in a pulsing cadence as if it had a rune.


    But the whole spire was solid and black, cold to the touch and weirdly slimy. It didn''t leave anything on the hands, but it almost felt like oil.


    I hadn''t felt like that was a good thing and stopped trying to explore it.


    Now, as I woke up shivering in the pre-dawn before Simila relit the fireplace, I wondered what it all meant.


    I stretched, and pushed on my stomach and arms, but I didn''t feel physically bad. I closed my eyes and tried to go to the strange place, but nothing happened, it wasn''t like I could blink to it from my room as I had from one spire to the other.


    I went to the door to my parents room and knocked, then tentatively reached for the key.


    I waited a moment, slowly creaking the door open, but then I heard footsteps and took a step back.


    "Tilvrade?"


    I tensed as not mother, but father came to the door.


    "What is the matter?" He asked grumpily.


    "Father, I-uh," I hadn''t expected father to open the door. "I had a bad dream, there was a humming rock, a spire-" I was stuttering a bit, not having thought over what I would say to him.


    "You had a bad dream." He interrupted me and I felt my head sink a bit. "Do you know what time it is? I have to meet Viscount Kridley in the morning, why don''t you tell your maid, Simila?"


    "Father, it''s not like other dreams, it''s so weird and dark-" I tried again.


    "Tilvrade, don''t be selfish. It''s just a dream.


    Bam


    He came in the room and shut the door a bit strongly behind him. His words and the slamming sound went around in my head.


    Don''t be selfish. It''s just a dream.


    Was it just a dream?


    Was I overthinking it?


    "Sorry, I didn''t mean to slam it like that. Here, let me put you back to bed." Father seemed a bit embarrassed that he was being abrupt and brought me back to my bed.


    I felt bad as he put me into bed, and I curled up under the sheets.


    I didn''t want to be selfish or a hassle to mother.


    "Good night, Tilvrade. Talk to Simila about it in the morning."


    I didn''t want to tell Simila. She wouldn''t care.


    Perhaps I didn''t want to remember that debacle, but the sleep took me despite my beating heart and I just kept it to myself the next day as I was brought again to the stables to play with Fafi and Cinder.

 Chapter 23: homecoming

    I felt excitement overwhelm my queasiness as I looked out the open window at the passing village I only vaguely remembered.


    We were back in Olwick, almost a year since we had first gone to Gristol.


    The main road was mostly as I remembered it. At the end of the village was the lane where father had given the steward the key, and then there was the baker''s stone house near the middle of the village.


    I saw smoke coming out of the bakery, but there were very few people outside, as it was getting dark now.


    Father had gotten us all up early for the last day on the road and we had come all the way from the Vapelle''s manor. It seemed that he was as keen to get home as mother and I, or perhaps just wary of the suspicious lord of the tower in Ibbergreen.


    It had been a year since I saw the orchards and honestly I didn''t remember them well, especially without the light of the sun.


    Even so, when I saw the trees laden with silhouettes of summer fruit and smelled the rain from where it was drying off on the bark of the applewood in the night breeze, I felt it was familiar and the first taste of home.


    I hoped that now, the bumpy road was finally coming to an end, and my parents would stop arguing, as they had on the way home. I don''t know what caused it, but ever since we left Gristol, I would hear hushed debates between my parents at night.


    Mother was adamant that we stay in Olwick next winter, while father thought we should return.


    There might have been other things, but I didn''t eavesdrop more, except to hear that father was suggesting we have a second house in the capital.


    The pounding rhythm of the horses'' hooves and clacking of the carriage wheels were getting to me again, but the real culprit was my still developing dreams. The two spires had become three the past few weeks, each floating on little islands in the red sky.


    I closed my eyes to another wave of nausea overtaking me.


    It felt like I would be there when I closed my eyes, in that strange place, but I put my hand over my eyelids and didn''t see anything.


    The carriage rolled to a stop and I heard the door click open.


    "Aaah, finally," mother yawned on the other side of the bench.


    I heard splashes of gravel outside, which must have been father, Byl and Vis dismounting from their horses. We had all come back, one year older.


    "Please Simila, if you would get down first and help my son."


    Well, all of us plus Simila and Cinder.


    I was looking forward to seeing Ivian, it had been so long. I hoped Simila following us home didn''t mean she''d be chaperoning me here too.


    "Yes, my lady," Simila responded with her usual lack of inflection.


    It ticked me off how she always seemed to be unenthusiastic, and quite lazy as far as maids go, only completing her duties when mother reminded her.


    Back in Gristol, she brought things to me and tidied my room, but didn''t seem to do it for me.


    "Here we go," Simila said, looking at me, then put her hands under my arms and lifted me down the difficult carriage stairs.


    I looked up as Simila put me down on the gravel pathway and saw Ivian who was waiting for us on the stairs to the manor along with Vis, the old man steward and many people in maid and footmen uniforms that I had never seen before.


    I melted in tears as I saw her endearing fang-like crossbite.


    "Ivian!" I cried, ah. I hadn''t realised when we left, but damn, I missed this place. The clean air that smelled of the forests and clean fireplaces, Ivian, and the feeling that I was no longer in a cage.


    I saw Ivian laugh as she saw my tears, but she just stood where she was, looking for permission from mother who was still getting out of the carriage behind me.


    Then Ivian gasped and ran forward, to my shock and worry running right up to mother and inexplicably placing her hand on her stomach. For a maid who was following all the proper etiquettes with me, it seemed to be quite improper.


    "My lady, you are expecting?" Ivian gasped.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "Yes Ivian, thank you for your joy," mother said and placed a hand on her stomach beside Ivian''s. "I realised just a month before we left. I insisted we come here this year. I don''t want Tilly''s little brother or sister to be born in the city."


    "What? You''re pregnant?" I caught my mouth behind my hands in surprise.


    "Tilly, you know what that means?" Mother asked. She knew about my visions and would probably ask later what I had seen.


    I had not noticed at all, partly because I had no idea what being pregnant meant until just now.


    It was hard not to notice that mother looked fatter than she used to, but only when I saw Ivian reach out to feel mother''s stomach did I see one of those visions from Sam.


    I hadn''t told anyone about Sam yet, but maybe now that Sam was trickling into my mind once more, I should say something. I just didn''t want her to invite another shaman. There didn''t seem to be any real doctors in this place.


    "Come here. Do you want to hear your little brother or sister?"


    I took a few steps and then Ivian came to pick me up, smiling gleefully.


    "Welcome home Tilly, you''ve grown so big while you were in the capital."


    "Mmh!"


    "You''ll have to tell me about all your adventures."


    "Jom, take the carriage out to the shed. Vis and Byl, can you bring the horses to the stablehand?"


    Father sent some orders and then stood beside mother, holding her hand as Ivian brought me closer.


    "See? My belly is so much bigger because your brother or sister is inside me. Can you hear?"


    "How about we name her after your mother, if it''s a girl," father whispered to mother as Ivian held me to her stomach.


    I couldn''t hear anything, but I just looked at my mother with sparkling eyes.


    And then I gaped as my body yawned.


    "I think Tilly is tired," Ivian said and picked me up again. We went up the stairs, the reunion and revelation done. "I''ll take him up to his room to have a nap before dinner."


    "Thank you Ivian. Please show Simila around afterwards. She will be Tilly''s maid from now on. I''ll need you to help me the next few months and then with my newborn."


    "Oh, of course, lady Cianna." She said.


    I felt very disappointed. Why did Simila still have to follow me around even back here in Olwick? I was finally back in Ivian''s arms...


    She took me up the wooden stairs to the second floor that seemed smaller and creakier than I remembered. My room was different too, but not just in my impressions. The crib I had slept in was replaced with a bed frame and in the corner, I saw a new wardrobe, hopefully stocked with a more comfortable set of clothes than the miniature coats and vests with bronze buttons that I wore back in the capital.


    But there was a very familiar plush toy beside my pillow and I almost teared up at seeing Semolina with his red button eyes, even though I had all but forgotten him the time I was away.


    "Simila, sorry to have jumped ahead of myself. Did you want to help Tilly undress for bed?"


    It was a few months ago, one morning that I was feeling impatient and had wanted to ask mother a question. I had opened the door to my parent''s chambers in the Edbrian wing and stared at Vis who, to my surprise, was buttoning down father''s shirt.


    Sam''s memories of such a situation set my cheeks on fire, filled with angst and nail biting until I told mother. She had explained then and put an unfamiliar sense of discomfort in me that my memories could be very wrong. The older Vis had just been helping father undress and shave, the duties of a valet to a lord.


    I now had Ivian or Simila to help dress or undress me in the mornings and evenings, but when I was older I would also have a valet instead of a maid to do such things. Of course, on the condition I inherited Olwick from father.


    "No, that''s fine, you should do it." Simila said and decided she would much rather look out the window at the grounds below.


    Ivian frowned at her back a moment before turning back towards me. I looked at her as I pat Semolina on my lap. He was so nostalgic, but kind of disappointing compared to Cinder or Fafi.


    "It looks so peaceful here," Simila said, but the way she said it made me think she was bored already of the ountryside, lamenting that it couldn''t live up to the bustle of the big city. "I don''t think I have ever seen him smile like that, when he saw you outside."


    Ivian unbuttoned my shirt but she was looking out the corner of her eye at Simila who was now sitting down, tired herself from the carriage.


    "With all due respect, Miss Simila, I think you should talk directly to Tilly while he is right in front of us."


    I felt a bit smug as Ivian told off Simila. She was always like that, either lazy or more interested in other things. If she didn''t like being my maid so much, why did my parents insist on it? It''s not as if she was hired for being pretty. She wasn''t, with too big a chin and too wide a nose. Maybe she''d have a sort of country charm if her blonde hair was longer, but she kept it cut short instead.


    She even talked back to mother sometimes, and seemed to have the same disdain for our country manor as I imagined the other relatives in Gristol that looked down on mother would have.


    I was finally back in Olwick, in my old room and with Ivian, yet mother was insisting that Simila remain by my side.


    My thoughts on Simila faded away as I felt something in me.


    I hunched over my knees as the wave of pain made me lose sight and hearing for a moment.


    I had never felt anything quite like this, but I knew the reason immediately. I felt tired these past few months, as well as fearful and often in pain. It always seemed to be at the edge of my mind, like a swarm of buzzing flies. They would come closer and stick to me, sending little chills of pin pricks through my skin.


    It had gotten worse as the nightmares worsened. It was one of the reasons the hours in the carriage were so hard.


    "Tilly? What''s wrong? Did you get hurt?"


    Ivian turned her attention from Simila, who I could imagine rolling her eyes.


    "It''s nothing." I said through gritted teeth as the feeling passed.


    But Ivian was kneeling in front of me, my wrist clasped in her hand. She seemed very worried, staring at my wrist. She put a hand to my forehead and then spoke to Simila.


    "Go call Lady Cianna. Something is wrong with Tilly," she said, and I looked at where she was staring.


    Instead of going though, Simila took a few quick steps across the room and pushed Ivian aside.


    "You go, I''ll stay here."


    I felt angry but Ivian just left the room. What right did Simila have to order Ivian around?


    "What is this?" Simila asked while looking at the black splotch on my wrist. It was the first time I saw her concerned.


    I stared at the black spot and wondered the same thing. I had seen a freckle the other day after feeling a chill in my arm. But this was unnatural, almost like the symptoms of some disease.

 Chapter 24: mana

    "When did you first notice this? Did anyone bump into you since we came back? Did you see a spider on you while we were travelling through the woods?"


    Simila started firing off questions, but before even giving me time to respond, she shouted out, "someone get a basin of hot water and soap right now!"


    I heard the manor suddenly get busy as someone shouted in response and footsteps joined Ivian''s running around the creaky halls.


    "No, I don''t think so, I thought..." I still wasn''t sure about whether I should talk about the nightmares. Particularly to Simila.


    I thought they might be something to do with condensing mana. I really don''t know what or why, but I started getting the nightmares after condensing mana regularly. The first spire with its cloud of energy hurt me, but it also felt like mana, the cloud of black fog surrounding it cold and painful to the touch.


    "Talk kid, if this is venom of some sort, I need to try to get it out right now, but if this is some kind of curse or disease, then we need to find other help fast."


    Of course, could I say for sure that this black spot on my wrist was from the nightmare? Was I actually poisoned as Simila seemed to think?


    The spires were weird, alien even, the first with its cloud of energy, the second with its ominous humming. The third spire that showed up just recently didn''t do anything though. It just had the same oily sensation as the second one and was slowly growing.


    Could each of the spires have a different effect? Was this black splotch caused by the third?


    "Uh, there wasn''t any spider... I don''t remember anyone touching my wrist other than mother and Ivian and you, when you brought me down from the carriage, but..."


    "But...?"


    I hesitated, but decided to talk about the nightmares after all.


    "... I''ve been getting nightmares, spires, red sky. They''re scary."


    "Wait, you''ve been getting mana dreams?" I blinked at her familiarity. It seems mana dreams was a thing. Should I have just been more insistent with father before?


    "Uh huh."


    She sighed as she shook her head.


    The door opened and mother and Ivian came running into the room.


    "Is Tilly alright? What happened?" She asked, coming to kneel down beside me too.


    "He says he''s been getting mana dreams and he was even able to describe them. He''s far too young for that, but if it''s true, then he just needs to exhaust his mana." Simila explained to mother, and turned over my wrist to show her. "I thought it might be venom or some kind of disease, but this could also be a mana stigma."


    My head was a bit dizzy from Simila''s explanation. She spoke of mana as if it were some kind of poison, taking root in me.


    It was one thing to suspect something was wrong with the mana condensation, but quite another to hear mana vilified.


    Mana was a natural energy that could be exhausting to condense, and felt cold, but was a source of power and rejuvenation, not a poison or danger.


    "Oh Tilly, why did you not say anything?" She hugged me and patted my hair at the back of my head. "It must have hurt so much. How long have you had this?"


    "Mmh, sorry." I mumbled, thinking ruefully about when I did try to tell them. "I thought it was just a bad dream... I didn''t know mana could hurt me." I didn''t want to be selfish like father said I was...


    "Tilly..."


    "I only saw the spot after we left the capital. The bad dreams... I''ve been getting them since we left Olwick."


    "A whole year..." Mother whispered, "Ivian, please get my husband."


    Just as Ivian stood up though, father came through the door.


    "Did something happen? What is all the commotion about?" His beard was half shaved. I lowered my eyes wondering if he would get mad again...


    "Sivis, Tilly has been getting mana dreams for a full year and now has a stigma."


    "Mana dreams? Don''t be- A stigma?" he looked at each person in the room. "How...? That should not be possible..."


    "I do not know either, he never said anything about it until Ivian saw the stigma just now."


    "Where is the stigma?" He asked and Ivian turned over my wrist again.


    "Hmm. Is it possible he got bitten by a recluse?"


    Ivian left the bedroom to get another chair for father to sit on. Mother just sat by the wall in worry, Simila standing beside her.


    "It wouldn''t be black like that," Simila responded, "There are few creatures north of Keiran that cause a spot like that. And Tilly described the spikes of the mana dreams."


    Father shook his head but looked at me. "Alright. Well, it''s hard to believe, but if he has started accumulating mana, then I need some time with him."


    Father was still looking at the stigma and frowning when Ivian came back with a chair for him. He sat in front of me and started explaining what it was.


    "Tilvrade, mana is both a curse and a power." He said seriously, though I could feel Sam''s disagreement in my gut, "knights train to absorb mana and use it as a source of strength. By focusing on how it spreads, you can create tension in your arms and legs, creating the strength or flexibility to do things you would not ordinarily be able to do."


    I blinked as I tried to catch up. Father started talking about knights and some kind of mana application.


    Mana, the white haired ghosts had whispered to me many a time, was a form of energy, the fabric of this dimension that could be harnessed and then syphoned to runic designs or arrays to power simple machines and apparatus.


    "Once you use it, the mana will deplete and you will have to gather it again," father continued.


    Unlike the runes and arrays, spells were from a personal accumulation of mana. That was exactly why you gathered mana in your core, slowly expanding the reserves you could carry to create stronger spells.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "... but holding mana within you can cause pain," father overturned everything I knew about mana. "The more you gather, the larger your capacity and accumulation rate, but that is when the spikes will start appearing. The spikes... change people..."


    He let a chilling thought hang between us. Did they become a monster? Were the vampires actually mages?


    Father didn''t continue on that thought though, instead, he started giving me instructions, "so please make sure to do what I''m going to tell you every day."


    "How does it change people...?" I asked tentatively.


    "Don''t get distracted, Tilvrade. You have a stigma, we need to get rid of that. Focusing mana isn''t so easy to do. Even if we focus on this all day, it will take a while before you can draw on your strangely large mana pool."


    He held up his hands. "Focus on pooling mana in your hands."


    It seemed he was concerned for me, and I didn''t really need to know what he meant. Better to do what he says.


    "The idea is simple, just focus on how your muscles feel when they tense, all the way from your stomach to your hands. It will take a few tries, and a lot of practise to-"


    Sam had even been on the duel team, a group at the military academy that represented the nation in competitions. The duel teams faced off in matches of unstructured magic, showing off the kingdom''s magical prowess by replicating spells without their incantations or creating originals in fast-paced duels. Even the most junior members of the team could create elemental projectiles from their environment or cast a quick shield.


    Moving mana around the body was not a simple thing. It required a familiarity with the stretches and movements requiring to move mana around the body.


    But with Sam''s familiarity, it was second nature, really not as hard to do as father would have thought. I felt the hint of soreness in my muscles as I created a path and then a chill that followed those lines as I pushed out towards my hands.


    His eyes widened as his head jerked up.


    "You already..."


    I wonder if he would believe me if I told him I had even cast a pain transfer spell, much more complicated than this to get away from Nistan more than a year ago.


    "Ahem," father wiped his chin with his wrist, collecting himself, "then, just focus on your breathing. If you keep the mana pooled where you need it, your breathing and movements will start to burn the mana and strengthen you."


    Once I knew what he wanted me to do, it wasn''t hard. Mana strengthening was, in principle, very easy. It simply involved opening the core and letting the mana stream out to the rest of the body.


    It''s just that unstructured mana strengthening was not very popular, even if it was a technique used in the duel ring. Not only was it inefficient but it performed very poorly in duels where range would decide the outcome. Even in ancient times, strengthening was always better done with runic enhancements, spells or alchemy than with unstructured magic.


    It wasn''t very hard once the mana was there. I simply squeezed, but kept the image of the mana clamping down within, creating an invisible outline overlapping my real hand.


    "You..." father started, "How did you do that so quickly?"


    I just smiled up at him innocently. "I just did what you told me to?"


    Father was many things, but never indecisive. But today, he was blinking and scratching his head as if something incomprehensible had occured.


    "That''s... incredible. Do you feel any better? That should have released some of the mana..."


    "Mmh," I mumbled. I did feel different. I felt like I had no more mana in my core.


    It had taken months of effort just to gather that mana, only to be used up in an instant. Not to mention, it made me feel sick from weird nightmares all the while.


    Why would anyone use unstructured mana strengthening?


    "You are feeling better, Tilly?" Mother asked, walking over. When I nodded she then asked father, "is it really that quick?"


    "It is not supposed- no matter, Tilvrade managed to use the mana, so he should feel better after he has a good night''s sleep."


    "That is a great relief," Mother said, looking very tired herself. It had been a long day. "Your father and I are going to have dinner, but let''s put you to bed first Tilly. Simila can get you something if you need it during the night."


    Then she looked at the two maids, "And Ivian, you''ll have to let Simila sleep in your chambers starting tonight. Could you lay out a bed for yourself in the quarters downstairs?"


    "Of course, lady Cianna," Ivian said somewhat sullenly.


    I did feel tired. So tired I hardly registered Ivian being moved out from my maid''s room.


    It wasn''t the effort just now or even the long journey. When they said I wouldn''t have to endure the pain anymore in that strange world of my nightmares, I realised I had been shouldering a kind of unconscious tiredness from fear of sleep that suddenly came over me.


    Perhaps tonight, for the first time in two years, I would finally have a deep sleep.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I didn''t wake up later that night looking for food. I slept until the sun had risen and Simila had to wake me from a peaceful slumber.


    It felt like the first time I slept properly in such a long time.


    "Good morning Tilvrade," she said in her usual uninterested tone. "Your father wants you to eat and then join him in the yard."


    That was unusual. Why would father want me in the yard?


    I sat up, ironically yawning widely, trying to get out of the kind of groggy sleepiness that could only be caused by too much sleep.


    Oh right, we were in Olwick now.


    I looked at my wrist. There was still a grey patch on my wrist, but it was faint, unlike yesterday.


    "The stigma will take a few more days to fully fade away." Simila offered, in a rare display of helpfulness.


    "Could you turn around a moment? I need to go..." I said. With a long sleep also came a full bladder.


    I had tried in the past to have mother or Simila leave the room, but they seemed to think it wholly unnecessary to leave the room when I pissed in the chamber pot.


    I pulled it out from under the bed and turned so my back was facing the maid as I relieved myself.


    "Do you know what father wants me to wear outside?" I asked, and Simila pointed to a stack of clothes she had placed on the bed at some point without my noticing.


    "He''ll probably be teaching you to hold a sword, so something like that should do."


    I went downstairs with Simila and sat in the high chair. The loaf of baked bread at the table made me think of the baker.


    I wonder how Ivian''s family had been these past two years. Eve would be 4 or 5 now. I wondered if she was as tall as Pricel now.


    I wanted to see them all again. I was a bit of an ass when I last met Eve, but she was always innocently happy to see me, like her mother and aunt and the other people here.


    Even Vis, the stableboy who was now tending to the table seemed to have a nice guy feeling to him.


    But before all that, I was excited to be going out to the yard. Learning how to hold one of father or Saul''s swords sounded like tons of fun. Who didn''t dream of becoming a sword wielding warrior like in the stories of before the Treaty of Azar?


    Ah, I think it might have been Sam coming through... He always was a bit of a jock, preferring to duel or train than to spend time in the library, though he was still at home in the lab.


    I''d train with father and find a better way to use my mana too. Now that I knew simply using it would prevent those strange dreams and pain, I would just find better spells and incantations than the inefficient mana strengthening that father used.


    "Tilvrade!" My father seemed amused to see me in the oversized leather cuirass when I stepped outside. "That looks awful. Take it off."


    Saul was laughing beside him as I tried really hard to untie the thing behind my back. Stupid leather armour. I told Ivian I wouldn''t need it.


    Even though Simila was technically my maid, I was glad that Ivian decided she''d hover around me. Man, it was nice being back.


    "Now that you have started gathering mana, you will regenerate it even without consciously trying to. I talked with your mother and with Jom yesterday. You will be training with Saul and me now. Think you can keep up?"


    Father actually seemed pretty happy about that.


    It seemed he was like Sam, only really alive when he was moving his body.


    I jumped when he said jump and swung the wooden sword when he said to swing.


    But I didn''t last very long. I was done, panting on the grass after just 15 minutes had passed.


    "Mmh, well, we will have to work on that." Father said, obviously not sure what to think, "That''s more than I ever saw a 2 year old do. Ivian, Simila, take him inside, will you?"


    And that''s how my first sword training session ended.


    The next few days I got much better. I was able to swing more times and lunge more times.


    It was usually Saul who looked at my training, often doing his own drills and flourishes beside me.


    Unfortunately, father insisted every so often that I show him a mana empowered swing. He was very firm on that, perhaps worried that I would get sick otherwise.


    It also meant I had no mana left to do my own experiments.


    The only reward was seeing father''s approval.


    "Good," He said one morning, as Saul watched in amusement.


    "I think he''s even better than you were." Father continued saying and Saul shook his head in indignation.


    I was feeling pretty confident in myself. It wasn''t often that I was better at something than Sam, and I was definitely a greater swordsman than Sam was. I figured that meant I was good, and I was prepared to take on a knight in armour or a shrieker running out of the woods!


    Fortunately, no shriekers ran out of the wood, and no knights came to kidnap me.

 Chapter 25: a simple magic

    The months of the summer were consumed by the sword training that father proscribed.


    A lot of the training wasn''t actually with a sword, or a wooden stick. Father just wanted me to use mana to jump or run or do summersaults and things.


    He also insisted on sitting down with him and circulating mana every morning, which seemed to be how he thought of condensing mana and practising how to pool it behind particular muscles. It was a bit counterintuitive to me, I was trying to get rid of mana, not get more. But I didn''t say anything, since I wanted to try spells of my own.


    I knew I was ready to become an amazing baby knight warrior. I wielded that wooden stick with panache when he let me do the sword swinging drill with Saul, which was usually the fun part of the morning. But that was all, before he told me that was enough and Simila took me off for a bath.


    I did notice mother once talking to him at the table at dinner. She seemed to be saying that it was too early for me to be training, and father actually agreed.


    Then there was after lunch. It was a perfect opportunity to keep working on my ideas on that wax tablet.


    I would settle into the cushion that Ivian had embroidered with a horned rabbit while I was in Gristol and take out the stylus, then...


    Aawuwuh


    Make a big yawn before I fell asleep.


    I blamed it on all the running around in the morning... it seemed I could never focus these days. I would sleep for 3, even 4 hours sometimes and then Ivian would come by and take me downstairs where she and mother would be sitting down to practise flute and sew.


    They had both noticed me sketching patterns before, so Ivian thought I should learn to embroider too.


    I didn''t actually like sewing much. It was laborious to get the threads through and Ivian had been showing me how to make an outline and then frame it in an embroidery circle, but it wasn''t coming together and made me frustrated and sleepy again.


    Not everyday was the same though. Father and Saul were often busy, so practise got cancelled and other days I got to ride on the pony that Sir Barker brought around to play.


    The pony was fun, and I could watch Fafi running around us as we went down the mud road to the orchards.


    As the autumn came, Sir Barker and I would pick some apples and eat them out in the sun, waving at the villagers who sometimes passed us on the road.


    Other days, instead of training or riding, Simila stood behind me as we watched father and Saul spar.


    Both father and Saul were amazing as they lunged and parried and dodged each other. Father seemed to have the upper hand though, his wooden sword striking Saul''s padded armour many more times than the reverse.


    I wasn''t idle either. While I watched father and Saul sparring with the sword, I thought I remembered a spell to sharpen a blade so that even a wooden sword could cut through metal like butter.


    It was simple, just an incantation that I could try with a few words.


    If only I could remember the exact words, that is, then I could finally use the mana I continued to condense in a more meaningful way than the mana reinforcement that father used.


    Piecing fragments of Sam''s memories together was tiring, and it always seemed that the ones I needed least were the ones most ready to pop into my mind.


    And for that matter, not all of Sam''s memories were of a better place. Often, his memories just involved lots of other stuff that I didn''t particularly want to know.


    It seemed that among other things, Sam had spent a time of his life simply warming up the same meal every day for dinner in a small apartment room.


    Food here was one of the things that I was really looking forward to most days.


    Sometimes we had soups and sometimes salads, often bread from the bakery in Olwick and birds or game that father and the militia men brought back after doing sweeps through the nearby woods.


    As the chilly wind of autumn blew over Olwick, meals were even more welcome, the warm food appreciated after practice in the field.


    The only bad thing about meals is that mother and father often argued. They were still trying to decide what to do when we returned to Gristol as well as when they would have to go back.


    "We should stay the next two years here. I don''t want to put Sasha through the trip to the capital so young. I think Tilly likes it here too."


    Sasha was apparently Viscount Phrans''s wife''s name, and what my parents started calling my yet to be born sibling. Even though mother had a tricky relationship with her father, it was still far better than the distance between father and grandfather.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I''m just worried. I need to be back in the capital if I am to find out what happened. Look, we can think about that new residence you wanted. Perhaps if we move out of the Edbrian I can at least bring you with me when Sasha is a year old?"


    "No Sivis, why?" mother started shouting and stood up. "Just let us stay here. Sasha is not going to the capital, not when we can''t even stop the night in Ibbergreen."


    The spoonful of pudding and white meat I was about to put in my mouth dropped down to the plate.


    "Cianna, let''s talk about this later. Just sit down and eat with us."


    Mother looked almost at the point of tears but sat down again careful not to bump her swollen stomach.


    "Sorry Sivis."


    It seemed that at least they were apologising and making up, but it made the succulent meat and savoury bread pudding lose some of their taste.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Sickle or sword, scalpel or knife, here to ward off issue or strife, hone thine edge to support my pledge to use your might and protect a life. Sharpen!"


    I shouted the chant and lifted a knife I had swiped from the kitchen.


    I spoke not in the tongue of my mother and father, but in the words of Lucia that only I knew here.


    It was about a month since we stopped training outside. Father or Saul no longer supervising my daily training in the stables now that they were out on hunts during the day.


    I felt a surge of excitement as the drops of mana I had collected within me over the past couple months seemed to bubble and boil, frost turning to fire in my chest as the mana remembered the incantation''s calling.


    Something was a bit strange, however, perhaps because the incantation wasn''t used often. The mana felt a bit sluggish, or even suppressed. I just focused though, brandished the knife in my hands.


    I saw a twinkle of light at the edge of theknife and then-


    "AAAAARAAAGH!"


    I screamed in torment as the bubbling mana seared through my consciousness and my vision went to darkness.


    ...


    ...


    ...


    "Tilly?"


    I woke up to see Ivian looking down at me.


    "Are you awake? What happened?"


    I sat up in panic and turned, looking for some-


    "Uurgh, uuf uuf."


    A dark green spray hit the carpet that had recently been placed in my room before Ivian was able to bring the chamber pot under my nose.


    Then I was coughing from vomit going the wrong way up my nose until it came again from my stomach.


    "Ooaurgh!"


    "It''s okay Tilly. Just try to breathe. I''m right here."


    I closed my eyes and motioned weakly for her to bring the chamber pot away from my face. The stink just made things worse.


    "Tilvrade, keep your back straight. You control your body, not the other way around."


    Father was in the room too, but he didn''t sound very sympathetic.


    "You''re sick," Ivian cooed as she put a hand on my back, "Do you know what happened? You were screaming downstairs before Simila brought you up."


    "Yes," I remembered. But how do I even explain that I was trying a spell that I shouldn''t even know about. Or that I didn''t know about, apparently. Stupid lying memories. "No."


    It was supposed-


    I quickly brought the chamber pot back under me as stomach acids rose up again.


    "Oophlagat!"


    Sour, bitter, confused, broken.


    Whatever it was supposed to do, the spell did this to me instead: a twisting stomach and the beginnings of a headache that was probably going to get worse.


    "Tilvrade, if you know something, then tell us. We can''t help you if we don''t know. Did you eat something in the training yard?"


    "What? Ew." I scrunched my nose. "I''m not Fafi..." I hesitated. Did it matter if they knew? It''s not as if it needed to be a secret that I failed. "I was trying to sharpen a blade."


    I was surprised as Ivian quickly checked each of my hands and then seemed to want to roll up my shirt.


    "Ivian?"


    "Where did you cut yourself?"


    "No, not that kind of sharpen. I was trying to use a spell."


    Ivian tilted her head and then looked at father.


    Father looked at me puzzled. "A spell, you mean with mana?"


    I nodded and drew his own sword from its sheathe.


    "Like this?"


    Even though we sparred frequently, it was always with wooden swords. I had seen him with his real sword strapped to his waist, but he never bared the steel in front of me.


    It wasn''t steel though. The metal was a dark red like the colour of dried blood. But even stranger was how it was misshaped, thinner towards the tip and shorter than the sheathe. Some parts of it seemed to almost curve in a wave.


    "Ugh," He shook his head and re-sheathed the sword. "What am I thinking. It''s strange you know how to condense mana at such a young age, but there''s no way you would know about this."


    It was an inscribed weapon, probably with some rune of corrosion.


    "What does it do?"


    Father smiled wryly as he sat down again.


    "Maybe when you are a bit older, I will take you to see Gerard in the capital. I think he would let you inside."


    "Is Gerard an inscriber?"


    "[Inscriber]? Gerard is a cursewright."


    "A cursewright?" I wasn''t familiar with that word.


    "He creates cursed swords and steel. Like this one," he patted the sheathe. "It is a vampiric blade. As long as I can stick it into flesh, it incapacitates as well as any poison, but more effectively on shriekers."


    ... and probably men, I added mentally. It seemed... unnecessarily bloodthirsty for magic. Why make something so complicated when you could just make it slice more smoothly or shoot out arcs of cutting wind from range?


    I had to admit though, a blood sucking sword did put a kind of morbid wonder in me.


    It was strange though. Every time I saw magic it seemed to be a curse.


    Whether it was father''s sword, the shaman, Nistan, mother. It was always a dark magic, never one of the elements, the light, or just something plain utilitarian. I didn''t understand how that could be. Curses were not even really a type of magic, just a classification to denote harmful spells.


    Not to mention, it wasn''t as if mana could just be changed to only work for some things and not others. The whole world''s magic would have to be shackled in chains.


    It seemed so unlikely to be a coincidence and yet what kind of power could change the very substance of magic? Magic was a force of nature. It was the greatest force of nature, even.


    There must still be some way. Just think of all the things I could do if I just found the key.


    I still had hope. Sam was a specialist in runes and arrays. Unfortunately, he didn''t know anything about curses or how they worked.


    If it just worked though, I would be able to analyse what was causing the shriekers and make life in Olwick more convenient. I''m sure mother and father would also praise my magical talents.


    I would have to focus the rest of the winter on my sketches and try the stasis rune soon.


    Just as soon as my headache died down...


    Gudunk


    Something fell or thumped on the ground somewhere else in the house and father got up and left the room to go see.


    "Ivian!"


    Soon after, I heard him shout and Ivian left the room as well, leaving me alone in the room with Simila.


    I would only learn later that this day next year, the 8th of the 5th month would be my little sibling''s first birthday.

 Chapter 26: Brendal

    Since as long as I can remember as Tilvrade, I had only ever seen father use mana strengthening, a type of unstructured magic. I had also seen shaman Ikstoff and Nistan use incantations. Father didn''t show me his sword for very long, but it was almost certainly runed to have that effect he claimed.


    I had yet to see any sign of arrays, but that was not so strange, considering their complexity.


    It puzzled me though. If runes and incantations and unstructured magic all worked, and mana could be condensed and used as Sam seemed to think was normal, then why were the conveniences of magic completely absent from every day life?


    In Sam''s world, everything from clothing to jewellery were engraved with runes for day to day convenience and appliances would be used in every home. Communication incantations were a necessary spell taught to all children by the age of 3. Only unstructured magic was something of a rarity, a subject for historians, athletes or special forces.


    "Simila," I asked my maid who was just sitting nearby, "do you know anything about magic?"


    I was maybe too focused on what I thought I knew. If I asked instead, maybe I would learn something new.


    "Magic?" Simila opened her eyes where she had been sitting quietly and turned her head towards me. "You should ask Ivian about fairy tales. I never read many."


    What?


    I blinked. Had I misremembered things? Were the incantations all figments of Sam''s imagination?


    "Uh, like incantations and reinforcement."


    "You mean curses? Not sure what you mean by reinforcement. Mana enhancement?"


    We spoke of the same things, but it felt like Simila was maybe just a bit slow.


    "Yes. Don''t people cast spells other than curses? What about fireballs or light and things?"


    I could see Simila roll her eyes.


    "So you did mean magic after all. Don''t mix up fairy tales and real life. I don''t know who came up with those silly ideas, but there''s no such thing as magic. Go talk to Ivian or your mother if you want bedtime stories."


    "Wait, just curses then." I said hastily, "How do they work? Why can''t they be other magic?" I asked, hopeful that Simila could tell me the answer.


    "It''s better to leave those things alone. Dabbling in dark arts is just asking for an early death."


    Simila didn''t seem interested in talking more, which was fine, since I had a lot to think about already from what she said.


    If magic really was seen as some dark art, then it could be just how Farand had understood mana use. There was something missing, but I wrote out ''unstructured?'' beside the incantation for the sharpen spell. If the incantation wasn''t working, would it be possible to use unstructured magic instead?


    I grimaced a bit. It had already been more than two weeks since I had failed that sharpen spell, but I still felt a twinge in my stomach when I thought about it.


    "Come in," Simila said just as we heard a knock on the door.


    "Tilly?" Ivian asked as she came in the room. "Come with me. I bet you want to meet your brother." She said with a smile.


    She picked up my hand and we went downstairs where she very expectantly brought me into the drawing room.


    Mother was sitting there with a blanket on top of her and I could see the head of a baby with wispy hair.


    "Look Tilly, this is your little brother," mother said in a sing song voice.


    "Isn''t he cute? You looked just like him not that long ago." Ivian added, squatting behind me to lift me up under the arms.


    I looked up at Ivian. Was I supposed to do something?


    The baby looked small and a bit ugly, and wasn''t looking at me at all.


    I was a bit confused, and could hear my heart thumping. Usually new things were greeted with Sam''s recognition, but there was only a vague acceptance that it was a baby, no familiarity beyond that.


    "So? Aren''t you going to say hi? He''s your little brother," Ivian told me when she saw me peeking up at her.


    "Hi."


    "Tilly, come here." Mother said.


    Ivian walked up. And then put me back down so that I could stand on the tips of my toes to get a better look over the chair arm at the bundle of brother who seemed to be sleeping now in mother''s lap.


    "See? Say Brendal, that''s his name," Mother told me.


    It''s not as if I didn''t understand that. I wasn''t dumb... Still, it seemed weird to talk to the sleeping thing.


    "Brendal?"


    My mother and father had been calling him Sasha the past few months, but instead of a sister, I had a little brother called Brendal.


    I sniffed a bit, noticing a hint of something sweet, mixed in with mother''s smell.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "Can I touch?" I asked, reaching out a hand.


    Mother was smiling fondly, but I actually was curious. Why were babies so different? Mother had been saying how her belly was so fat because of him but that means he was inside her?


    It didn''t seem to be magic, but... I touched his forehead. It was kind of wrinkly and he looked red.


    "Is he okay? He looks like he''s holding his breath..."


    I think mother would have noticed if something was wrong, but never hurts to ask.


    "Aw, Tilly, you''re such a worrier. Your brother is just fine. You were red when you were born too."


    "Really?"


    His eyes opened, and my attention went back to my little brother.


    He looked at me, and I smiled at him, but then he started crying.


    "Okay, okay, don''t cry," mother started bouncing him up and down and he stopped crying to burble instead.


    It was sort of off-putting...


    "Here, give your brother a kiss goodbye," Ivian said and held me up to the baby''s forehead again.


    He was quiet as I put my lips to his forehead and then Ivian carried me off again.


    "Do you still get those strange visions?" Ivian asked as we entered the reception hall where the staircase was beside the living room.


    "Not really," I said.


    She or mother sometimes asked about it.


    It was one of the few things I remembered vividly from two years ago.


    Mother an Ivian had thought it was some kind of curse and made a big fuss about it until shaman Ikstoff had come to do weird things to me, so I never wanted to talk about it with them again.


    Once I found out about Sam, I was actually pretty happy. It was like I had a secret friend to talk to whenever I had a question or was feeling bad.


    Sam didn''t exactly respond, but he was there, a kind of comforting presence, like an older brother maybe.


    I wonder if I would be like Sam to Brendal, helping him understand the world and grow up to be an awesome adult like me.


    "Is it almost my birthday?"


    Seeing Brendal made me think of my own birthday. It was the middle of the winter, so I should be getting basbusas or cakes or something soon, right? We didn''t have sweets that often, so it made my stomach grumble thinking about it.


    "Don''t tell anyone I told you this, but I saw your father come back yesterday with a present."


    I looked up. "What was it?"


    "Shh." She put her finger to her lips, then looked around conspiratorially.


    Her face came down to my ear and she spoke in a whisper as she put the candle holder down on the stairs away from us.


    "You''ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out, now won''t you," as she started tickling me.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Eve?" I asked. The baby I had seen before had grown so much. She was walking straight now, though she wasn''t as tall as Pricelwas. She looked almost elegant in her simple brown dress thickened with petticoats to hold off the cold.


    "Tilly!" She shouted, "I missed you."


    She didn''t have the same baby lisp that she used to, and rushed to put her arms around me in a hug.


    Veredith and the baker were also here today, bowing and kissing Ivian and awkwardly nodding to Simila who was cold and impassive for a maid.


    The baker had a basket on his arm that I couldn''t take my eyes off of.


    "Tilly, stop looking at dad. Aren''t you happy to see your big sister?"


    I looked back at Eve, what big sister?


    "I''m a big brother now, I can''t have a big sister." I told her.


    There was something strange about Eve, but I couldn''t really figure it out. When she was speaking, something looked out of place.


    "What?"


    "I have a little brother called Brendal. Come, let''s go find mother."


    I waved her over and we left Ivian''s family at the door.


    Simila followed us into the living room where mother was leaning over Brendal''s cradle that was brought down today.


    "Can we see Brendal?" I asked and I thought I saw a slightly sad smile as she looked at Eve and I.


    "Of course. Don''t be shy Evrolina. How have you been?"


    "Very well, milady," she said nervously while trying to curtsy, still at the doorway.


    She walked up steadily to where we looked at Brendal.


    "He''s so small," she said, "does he talk yet?"


    Mother let out a laugh, "No, he doesn''t talk yet. He isn''t even a month old yet."


    Brendal was a lot more polite this time, opening his hand and staring at Eve without crying.


    I saw Eve smile and finally noticed what was bothering me. She was missing a tooth.


    "Eve! You''re like me now!" I showed her my own missing tooth. Ever since that day in the ruins, I had been missing a tooth as well. It didn''t grow back even though mother and Ivian said it would.


    "Woah, you''re right! Tilly''s missing a tooth too! We''re like a couple!"


    "Yeah! Except for the couple bit!"


    We hit our open palms together and waved them down and up, doing a little dance. It was kind of funny how she had a open spot between her other teeth. She looked a bit goofey. I must too.


    Come to think of it, Ivian had funny teeth too. Maybe people would think Ivian and I were a couple if I smiled a lot?


    We went back to shush Brendal when he started crying though. He didn''t want to be left out maybe.


    My birthday was short. The basket Eve''s father had was a cake that he had brought. It was quite different from the semolina cakes.


    It was a thick dark brown dough with orange-yellow fruit baked into it that tasted both sweet and sour. The baker said it was a quince cake but Eve told me that quince was a kind of yellow apple, which made more sense.


    At the end of the day, father brought out a canvas bag and I opened it to receive a thin steel sword.


    It wasn''t much like father''s, but it was light and agile, so I could use it to stab, if I was in a tight spot.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Once I had the new sword, it wasn''t all that long before I was in the training yard again.


    The spring was exciting. Father and Saul started to realise that I was good at this and taught me different stances and flourishes that I could practise instead of just swinging the sword up and down.


    Father also brought over my first sparring enemy.


    I was really keen to show the older boy from the village who was lord around here.


    ... And so, it was all the more embarrassing when I got my ass handed to me.


    Give me a break, Crion was 7 years older than me. It''s not my fault I lost so quickly.


    I mean, if I was taller and bigger or father allowed me to use my mana strengthening, then I would have won for sure.


    Right?


    Crion was the blacksmith''s son. He had arms like a gorilla''s... for his age, at least.


    I bit my lip and clenched my little fists as I sat there on the grass.


    Okay, maybe I need to think this over a bit. Unlike me or other children of knights and lords, Crion hadn''t held the sword when he was 3 years old. In fact, father said he had started training only a year before I did, which would be two years ago.


    If I wanted to be like father, then I had to get better at this.


    Come on Sam... where are your skills when I need them?


    "You did pretty well, Tilly," Saul said as he squatted beside me. "Crion only got a single clean hit in, you parried or dodged almost everything he threw at you."


    "I did?" I asked with renewed hope.


    "Hahaha. You were something else. I''d be proud of you if you were my son. Can''t you see your father''s mood?"


    Father did seem pretty happy, but then again, ever since I started seeing him outside, he seemed to be more alive, a doting parent when he was teaching his son violence and hardship in the training yard.


    "Just keep on training. You''re going to surpass us some day. I can''t wait until you get a bit older."


    I stopped listening after he said I''d surpass him and father.


    I was going to be the next young typhoon of the North, the genius swordsmen of Farand. Father told me the Typhoon was the king''s general and was named after a giant serpent that flew through the skies above the Obsidian Sea.


    The young typhoon of the North would be the victor of the royal tournament held every 5 years, where young lords and squires could prove their prowess and be presented before the king.

 Chapter 27: an appeal

    I saw Crion again next week, and the week after that, and after that again.


    He didn''t come every day, but father would invite him over to the yard behind the manor every so often for a bout like the first one.


    The other days, I practised hard, doing drills first thing after breakfast every day.


    Even though I kept on losing quicker and quicker every day, Saul often pat me on the head and said I was doing a good job, so I knew I was improving.


    Then there was the boring part. When Crion wasn''t in the yard in the morning, I would learn mana enhancement.


    Father seemed quite excited about how I could do simple things like swing the sword a bit quicker or use mana enhancement to parry his sword swings. I wonder if he was being sarcastic...?


    There was one thing that was fun from the mana training though, which was when he got me to jump up high using mana in my legs and feet, then he would catch me when I came falling down. He said it wasn''t good for my knees if I practised myself, at least not until I could do it really well.


    I still didn''t stay outside all that long. I think father and Saul trained a lot more before breakfast, but I fortunately got to sleep in, which was a must with how tired I was at night.


    One night, however, I had a disturbing experience.


    The strange mana dream had come back again.


    That night didn''t seem much different from the others. Eve had come to the manor in the afternoon, and we had wandered around the woods towards Sir Barker''s house and found little brown salamanders under stones.


    I had then eaten with my father who seemed to be thinking about something as he didn''t say anything through the meal.


    Simila had taken me up to my room, and then I had plopped on my bed and fallen asleep.


    Instead of the frivolous dreams or nightmares of every day, I found myself sitting beside the black spire with the pulsing hum and wondered what was going on.


    The world of the spires was darker now, the sky an overcast grey instead of the glowing red that used to paint the clouds.


    The giant spire with dark mana spinning around it had also disappeared. The smaller one that appeared last time was also gone.


    Just the one humming spire, which left me with a foreboding as I opened my eyes to crying.


    "Hush, hush," Ivian whispered, "you''re going to wake your brother."


    It was Brendal crying, and Ivian had come in the room to calm him down.


    I felt a pang of annoyance as I watched Ivian holding Brendal in front of the window.


    Ever since the spring, Brendal''s crib was moved to my room. I wouldn''t be awoken too much by him since I slept through almost any racket he could kick up, but Ivian was always hovering around him as if I didn''t even exist anymore.


    "Ivian," I called.


    "Sorry, did we wake you up? It''s almost as if he can sense something is wrong. He just won''t settle down tonight..." she trailed off.


    Did Ivian know already? Was something else wrong?


    "I had another mana dream," I said anyway. I wanted someone to tell me what was happening to me.


    "What? Haven''t you been training with- Brendal, don''t cry, there there."


    Brendal had started crying again when Ivian raised her voice.


    I waited for her to give me her attention again.


    "Don''t worry Tilly, you''ll be fine. Let''s tell your mother in the morning, alright?" Ivian carried Brendal over to the door, "I''m going to take Brendal out of the room so you can sleep a bit before morning."


    I did manage to sleep again, but in the morning when I woke up everyone seemed so busy, running around the house.


    "We''ve discussed this before, Sivis. We came back specifically to give Brendal the family and clean air he needs to grow up healthy. I don''t want to bring him to the capital particularly if we do that terrible full day of travel past Ibbergreen again."


    "I will be getting a place for us to stay, I promise. It will be just like Olwick, maybe in Seventhill, somewhat out of the city."


    "Sivis..."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    My parents were arguing again but it wasn''t as bad as before.


    "I just don''t like that you and the boys will be here without any protection."


    "You worry too much. You even had that maid come with us. We''ll be just fine while you''re gone."


    "I don''t trust father. He decided to help us in the end, but I don''t doubt he has ulterior motives."


    "Mother?" I had been standing to the side, but I thought I should say something so they knew I was there.


    "Good morning Tilly." Mother said, then whispered to father, "Let''s leave this for now. We can talk about it in the fall."


    "Tilvrade, I am leaving to Gristol this morning. I trust you will continue training with Crion and Sir Barker over the summer."


    It was a bit sudden. I hadn''t realised father would be leaving Olwick during the summer.


    "Bye father," I responded.


    "Not quite yet, Tilvrade. There will be a time for that outside in a moment. Cianna, I need to make sure Saul and Byl are ready to leave. I''ll see you outside."


    Father walked off to prepare for his journey. It didn''t seem like the right time to bring up my dreams.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Father left to the capital again, this time without us. It would be the whole summer before he returned.


    When I did finally talk to mother about the mana dreams, she just had me do more training, asking Simila to make sure I didn''t skip, though I really don''t think it was because of excess mana.


    The mana dream didn''t reoccur very often though and there was nothing like the stigma or pain that I got last time.


    I passed much of the summer uneventfully. Sometimes I met Eve, and spent the rest of the time training with the sword, riding or learning to read.


    I had complained at the sewing that Ivian had taught me before and now that she was busy taking care of Brendal in any case, mother decided I could start studying to read.


    Mother would read various passages to me from a book of fairy tales.


    It was apparently quite famous in Farand. An older lord from Hartun had written it out from all the places he had travelled to in the Kingdom.


    I had heard some of the tales before, like the one about the boy who shouts "dragon". There were others though, some I had not seen before and it took a long time to write out the letters that were unfamiliar to me and Sam.


    It was strange that the writing here was so different from Lucia, even though many of the words were the same.


    One tale in particular I found interesting and quite different from the rest.


    It was the story of a young monk who went down to the riverbank to clean his habit. When he looked in the waters, his reflection looked back at him and spoke:


    ''Fear not the shadows, for the shadows are cast by the light. Embrace them and you shall have power and become a leader of the faith.''


    The monk had been spooked and ran back in the monastery. But he was not a diligent monk, and every time his brethren would fast or chant psalms at dawn and dusk to the Golden Sun, the young monk would dream of the comforts of food and sleep and glance at the shadows that whispered that they would help him.


    So one day, he went back to the river and asked.


    ''If I embrace the shadows, will I really be able to do what I want?''


    And his reflection happily replied.


    ''Why, you must only reach for the mana within you and you shall have all of your desires.''


    But when the monk opened himself to the rays of the Black Sun he was corrupted and it was no longer the monk who spoke to his reflection in the river, but the demon who laughed at the monk trapped in the reflection.


    It was an odd tale not only because it was the first I heard of monks in this life, but also because it talked about the Black Sun as if it were something to do with mana.


    "Simila, can you go see what is happening?" Mother asked from where she was seated. Simila didn''t leave the room, but went to the door and summoned Vis, the younger, who was now acting as the valet in the house.


    While I was writing out the symbols and sentences from the tale in part of the wax surface that I had been forced to wipe clean, it seems there had been some kind of commotion outside.


    There was a sound of banging on wood, which was very unusual. And shouting now could also be faintly heard.


    "Simila, can you come with us?"


    Mother decided we should all just go downstairs instead of waiting on Vis.


    Vis was hanging back from the doorway where his cousin with the same name was standing in the doorway. The older Vis was blocking the door, so I couldn''t see very well.


    "This is completely unacceptable! I demand to see the lord of this backwater."


    "Please, master peddler, this is unreason-"


    We heard two men''s voices arguing outside.


    "I will not hear another word out of you! That wretch was scamming me! Do you even know who I am? I am with the Graisfor company from Fort Efeles. I won''t let him go unpunished."


    I peeked out from behind mother and saw a big man with a very red face.


    "Gregrick? This is...?"


    Mother addressed the older man who was walking behind the peddler. He looked very embarrassed and flustered.


    "There must be some misunderstanding, my lady. Jikod here claims that he-"


    "Claims?! Misunderstanding?! I have proof. He mixed in flour gone foul with the shipment. Just a couple days after I loaded it into my wagon and it''s already infested with weevils."


    "And did my steward not adequately judge the situation? Gregrick?"


    "My lady, I did. Riddith wouldn''t do something like that. I know him well, he is my nephew."


    "You are his uncle? This is preposterous. Evidently this matter can''t be handled in this town plagued by nepotism."


    Gregrick grimaced as he realised his mistake.


    "Look, Mr...."


    "Grames," the peddler gave his name.


    "Mr. Grames, our steward Gregrick will ensure you are helped with that shipment, to make sure it is sifted and-"


    "Where is the lord of this place? I didn''t come all the way here to deal with a jezebel."


    The man interrupted mother rudely.


    "That was out of line, peddler," older Vis told the man and I felt my head nodding. Who does he think he is talking to my mother like that?


    "Oh? And are you going to do something about it? Olgrid!" He called, and a guard swinging a saber lazily in his hand walked over from where he had been leaning on the wall in the shadow of the staircase.


    "Don''t you be threatening us," Sir Barker startled me as he spoke from behind. "You get going back to Olwick now and you''ll be lucky if you have any help.


    The guard made a gesture of his head at the peddler and they both started walking away.


    "I''ll be back, Viscount Ikburr won''t tolerate this injustice. Mark my words!" The man shouted.


    To be completely honest, I doubt that Sir Barker would have been able to defeat that guard. The guard with the peddler had biceps like Saul''s and looked the image of a warrior, unlike Sir Barker and his somewhat large girth.


    "Gregrick, just come to me if there''s any trouble." Sir Barker told Gregrick who now had a hand on his forehead and looked like everything was going wrong.


    "My apologies Sir Barker, my lady. I should go back to sort this out."

 Chapter 28: fief dues

    "Jisil, bring Xavier here. Please" the general manager said with a pout and a small shake of his head to the wide eyed administrative assistant, while dabbing at his polkadot tie with an absorptive kerchief.


    An awkward silence ensued as I stood stiffly, hoping for this little fiasco to blow over. Four women around the boardroom table continued to speak designs and launch plans in hushed tones.


    It was only a moment before a bulky man wearing a suit that didn''t fit him well at all waddled in and slid the glass door shut behind him. I felt both disgust from my dream and jealousy from myself as I watched him chew on the remainder of a piece of cake.


    "Boss!" He said, in a gruff voice, while still chewing. Mother would not have approved.


    "Please escort Mr. Ivers out of the building, Xavier," the general manager said, glancing at me only a moment before returning his attention to his purple shirt and tie.


    I felt anger and outrage well up in me, but only in that dreamlike way you could feel something strongly when you didn''t understand anything that was going on.


    "Fuck you."


    My glare swept over the other girls in the room, all looking at me as if I were crazy.


    "Don''t you see that this is just going to fail again? All that work Carrie did on the consumer reactions and all the array development we did on the visuals scrapped for that ."


    "Mr Ivers," the manager spoke again apathetically, "we do not have the credits to make that kind of investment. The board has decided on a tried and true method for this year''s campaign."


    He looked kind of like Saul, except with spiked white hair, no biceps and a receding hairline. Saul would never wear clothes that colourful or let his body get so weak.


    "Tried and true method? Sure, putting your array designers in miniskirts instead of letting us do our job. Don''t you guys-..."


    The me in my dreams stopped talking suddenly as he looked at the sister he called Carrie at the other end of the table looking at me with sad... no, pitying eyes.


    "We are here for the corporation, Mr. Ivers. And that is why you will not be back here tomorrow."


    I felt some of Sam''s humiliation and anger as he turned away, slamming open the glass door.


    "Mr. Ivers, you won''t be needing that virsphere anymore."


    I ripped something from my wrist and threw it at him before leaving


    The fat man, Xavier hustled me towards a door into the sky.


    I felt a pang of panic as my feet walked right out of the wall and into thin air, but I stood there suspended as a series of golden icons flashed above the closing door.


    I sat up suddenly as I woke up in my room.


    I had gone to sleep tossing around in bed. I didn''t like that man who came yesterday at all.


    The way he spoke to mother, and how his guard twirled his sabre. I didn''t know who Viscount Ikburr was, but I hoped the peddler didn''t return with him before father came home.


    I had to get stronger too.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Fortunately, we didn''t hear anything more of the peddler before harvest time when father returned with another lord.


    The two carriages came bumping down the gravel path to the manor and Simila and mother took me outside to greet him.


    I didn''t actually see Lord Jemson, as he was called. When father got home he threw me into the air and hugged mother before bringing us inside.


    "Who?"


    ¡°Jikod, he was Riddith''s helper out at the mill.¡±


    My parents were talking about the incident from a month before. Not that I was interested.


    ¡°Poor man. There was an old beggar in Bridgewater I was always scared of when I was little. But mother told me he had not always been like that. He had gone through a curse of cyclic pain too. Even if he gave that peddler some old grains, isn''t that too much?


    ¡°He did not. Riddith is in charge of the grain shipment. He would not have let a shipment get sold filled with weevils. You know him even better than I do.¡±


    ¡°What? Then...¡±


    "The peddler appealed to Viscount Ikburr. I didn''t have a choice." Father answered, annoyed. ¡°It was that, or his hand. At least there''s a chance he''ll recover...¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Saul gave me a pat on the head and then tickled Brendal, who Ivian was carrying beside us.


    ¡°Why Sivis? Could you not have asked your si-¡±


    ¡°Enough of this. What''s done is done.¡±


    "Tilvrade, how has your training gone? Do you want to show me in the yard?"


    Saul asked me and started pushing me out of the room.


    I was happy to leave. I hardly even remembered what they were talking about and it sounded very serious and boring.


    ¡°Yeah! I got a lot better while you were gone. I can even do the parry father showed me with the reversal.¡±


    As we went out back though, we met Sir Barker who was just coming from the forest, probably because of word of father''s return.


    "Saul, you''re back," he hailed and father''s knights clasped wrists happily.


    "Sir Barker, it is good to see you. The lord will want to talk with you. He promised Viscount Phrans your support next spring."


    "Oh? What is Birbeck up to?"


    "It''s Count Niles, apparently. The company Viscount Phrans heads was offered some sort of contact and Count Niles thought they should invite you to help with the guards'' training. It seems your old lord still remembers you, but I don''t doubt he''d be surprised by how you have retired as a craftsman.


    "Lord Niles, really? Those were different days. I better go inside and hear more then."


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Something was up. It was obvious because of the sly smile on father''s face on the horse overhead of me.


    I just didn''t know what.


    It had been another month since he had returned, and last night, the first snowfall of the year had occured. Father said before taking me towards Olwick that instead of bringing Crion to the manor, we would go train in the longhouse in the village.


    He also told me I should put on one of the coats that he brought back for me from the capital, and mother was there at the stables to wave us off.


    I saw the longhouse as we were coming out of the woods. It was not on the road, but on the other side of a field that reminded me of the lawn in front of grandfather''s palace.


    "My lord," one of the villagers nearby bowed and mumbled when he saw father ride down the road.


    He was repeated by two dozen other villagers creating a bit of a buzz through the green.


    It seemed the villagers were all lining up today, some of them with bags or chickens and sheep and others holding a pike or bow.


    I didn''t miss the glances that contained a bit of resentment as father rode past them and dismounted, carrying me into the longhouse. But no one said anything, and many more smiled at us than frowned.


    It was warm inside, a big fire burning in the hearth.


    Saul and Mr. Barker were sitting just inside the open door talking with the queue of villagers. Mr. Barker actually stood up and started peering into a bag that was presented to him.


    The men who brought pikes or bows with them and sometimes their families would stay in the longhouse sitting on the tables that were set up in one corner. There was an older woman there who helped pour mugs of beer or cider. In the other half of the hall, Byl was shouting at a group of men, leading them through a drill with the pike.


    It was the first time I had seen people with pikes. I thought everyone just used the sword.


    Father and Saul, and the guards in Gristol, even Byl and Vis senior from the village would carry a sword. For that matter, Crion was a swordsman too.


    Didn''t father bring me here to duel with Crion?


    "Father... what''s going on? Why are there so many people?" I asked him as he brought me over to where the old steward was sitting at one of the tables with another man in an officious coat.


    "It was the first snow this morning. I thought it would be good if you came to see the payment of the dues."


    I figured that dues meant taxes. Sam had to do those too. Except it usually involved virtual numbers and documents sent over the virsphere network.


    Father greeted the two men and took a seat at the table, placing me beside him, "Good morning Gregrick, Lord Jemson. Is everything going well?"


    "My lord!" Gregrick exclaimed, his cheeks looked a little rosy. "Good harvest this year. First snow came late too."


    Father put me on the bench and took a seat beside me.


    "Rare to make it here on the day of the collection. I''ll be able to pass back through Ibbergreen and Valeford on the way back though, which is convenient."


    "The late snow is good for us, but inconveniences you on the collection round, doesn''t it."


    "As long as it doesn''t snow in too much this early. You really are in the middle of nowhere, aren''t you Lord Feles."


    "What do dues have to do with snow? And why is everyone holding pikes?" I asked, not following the conversation at all.


    "Huehuehue," Gregrick wheezed out a laugh. "The young master is learning early. Seeing the workings of the fief already?"


    "Tilvrade, the snow marks the end of the harvest and the beginning of the hard winter months ahead. Everyone needs supplies and the dukes are collecting their own provisions for winter balls."


    "And they''re holding pikes because we have to fend off the shriekers," Gregrick said solemnly, but not without another sip of his drink. "We''re just glad your father and Sir Valedon are back during the winter to help set up the patrols. Had a hard time of it before they came."


    Valedon was Saul''s family name that he chose when he became a knight.


    Father nodded at Gregrick in acknowledgement then gestured at the men shouting and stabbing the pikes into the air in front of Byl.


    "There are many ways the villagers can pay their dues. Even more important than the gold or livestock, we need any able bodied men to protect Olwick from the shriekers."


    I had heard about the sweeps and the shriekers before. What I really wanted to know was about why they weren''t practising the sword.


    "But why pikes? Crion has a sword like me."


    "Only knights, guards and mercenaries wield swords, Feles boy," the dues collector said, speaking to me for the first time. "Takes too long to train a man how to use one. Did you say you already have a sword?"


    The man leaned forward, interested in my answer.


    "Hehe. I''m already practically a knight. I''m going to surpass father and Saul someday." I told him with my nose in the air.


    "As you say, the sooner they start the better. It takes a long time to get good with a sword," my father responded with a roll of his eyes. The frown in his eyebrows meant he probably wanted to talk to me afterwards though...


    "Quite true. Still, he seems a bit young. I suppose a knight is a good station if the fief falls through."


    There was a slightly awkward silence as father tried to figure out what the tax collector meant. Maybe I shouldn''t have been quite so honest about my talents. Father and this man came back together on the road, but it didn''t mean they were friends.


    Then a question popped into my mind, wondering about something mother had said in the past.


    "What about grandfather? Doesn''t he go back to his castle during the summer? Are there no shriekers there?"


    If we came back to Olwick to help defend the village, then why didn''t grandfather do the same?


    "Mmh, that is a bit more complicated. Your grandfather is the duke, he oversees all the counties and fiefs in Efeles."


    I didn''t really see how that was relevant, but father continued, "his manor in Fort Efeles is protected by his knights who stay there the whole year."


    So basically, rich lords went to their manors to enjoy the countryside, poor lords went back to brave the winter perils. Poor father.

 Chapter 29: Olwick girls

    I looked over at the men who shouted each time they thrust forward their pikes while father talked more about the fief and the weather with the old steward and the tax collector.


    The group of pikemen seemed to have all sorts. There were older men with hunched backs and teenagers with clumsy swings. Some of them seemed big of build like Crion, perhaps also helping in the smithy or tilling the land, while others seemed slight of build.


    There were a few in particular to whom Byl had to give extra encouragement. They looked like they would much rather be anywhere but waving around a pike.


    "Tilvrade," father brought me away from the rhythm of militia training. "Crion''s here. You should go have your spar. I have other business afterwards, so come home with Saul and Jom, alright?"


    I looked up and sure enough, Crion was standing behind me, dwarfed by the ripped man beside him.


    "Hi Crion," I said, but my eyes were drawn to the man behind him that had hams for arms. It was like he was flexing while relaxed.


    "This is my dad," Crion said, introducing him.


    The man had a mean look to his mouth that only looked meaner with his receding hair like that made an ''M'' shape on his forehead. Hair all over his arms and his ridiculously wide shoulders made him even more intimidating.


    ... Until the man smiled.


    "Hey there. You''re Crion''s friend, huh? You guys take good care of each other, wontcha?"


    The blacksmith almost reminded me of a bulldog, all gruff on the exterior but with a personality that seemed to light up when he spoke to his son and his friend.


    There were people here who I felt like I wanted to work for. My life had been a bit of a jumble so far, between Sam''s weird illusions and thoughts encroaching on me, the kidnapping when I wasn''t even 1 and spending the last fewmonths in ''safety'' of my grandfather''s palace.


    I wanted something like this, here. I could see myself living in Olwick, learning blacksmithing with Crion, or helping out with the harvest. I liked training with the sword too. I could become a swordsman and protect my family and friends here from shriekers.


    I would protect Olwick after father as the next lord. I would not be weak or helpless again.


    I felt ready when Crion lunged at me with his wooden sword.


    He shouted while his sword accelerated forwards, but I had seen him do that before.


    I stepped to the side, keeping my sword up and when Crion tried to change his thrust into a sweep at me, I used the momentum to spin and lash at his legs.


    I knew I couldn''t beat him if I simply fought with the movements from the drills. He was bigger and stronger than a boy his age, let alone me. But if I wanted to protect the fief, I couldn''t just squash the resistance and put down all my foes.


    I had to think. I had to be wily. I had to use the tricks and tools at my disposal to be better, stronger and be victorious.


    Just as I was getting back up to step back from any counter attack Crion could come up with, I felt someone running at me.


    "Cuuutte!"


    I think my face was a mirror of Crion''s as I was hugged from behind by a girl with two pigtails.


    "How can you hit him? He''s just a baby!" She admonished Crion, wagging a finger at him.


    "Smiri?" Crion said, apparently already acquainted with the girl.


    "What''s his name? He''s so small, but he''s already playing with a sword?"


    "Uh, I''m Tilly, err, Tilvrade." I said, a bit bewildered at my interrupted duel.


    "Tilly! That''s a nice name." she said, and took my sword. "Don''t worry Tilly, I''ll protect you!"


    She couldn''t have been more than a year or two older than Crion, but she seemed very confident she could beat him up, even though she held the wooden sword upside down.


    I guess the cross guard made it like a mace, kind of.


    "Wait, Smiri," Crion shouted desperately, "I''m not bullying him. We''re practising. Tilvrade is the lord''s son."


    "What do you mean? He''s so small. You were hitting him with that stick!"


    "No really. He''s really good too. Just let us spar and you''ll see."


    You tell her, Crion.


    "Hmm."


    She really didn''t seem convinced, but she stopped threatening Crion with the sword at least.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Smiri?" I said trying to gently remove her hand from my head. For all her good intentions, she was kind of pulling on my hair. I think I had some way to go before I could protect anyone... Even a 10 year old girl could smother me unintentionally. "It''s fine. Crion was just-"


    "Tilly?"


    I looked around when I heard another girl''s voice interrupt my explanation.


    "Eve?" I asked. She wasn''t as tall as Smiri, but she walked right up to her and pushed between us.


    "Get away from her, Tilly."


    I was starting to feel embarrassed. Why were the girls bullying me now?


    I mean, sure, Smiri was shouting at Crion too, but why did Eve have to push me, and Smiri was still holding onto my hair.


    "Is that the young master?" Eve''s father appeared behind her. He was wearing a long white apron, probably what he wore in the bakery during the day. "Eve, you should let him work whatever it is out with his friends here."


    "No! Tilly is my friend. Let''s go outside and make a snowman!"


    I sighed. "Sorry Crion, maybe we should just stop for today."


    My father was silly for having us spar in the middle of an audience. Of course there would be misunderstandings.


    And anyway, I couldn''t let down Eve who was trying so hard to protect me and wanted to make a snowman.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Some things just never changed. Even Sam had memories of flinging snowballs and rolling them into boulders with sticks for arms and stones for eyes. The only difference is that he did it in the shadows of skyborne buildings floating overhead.


    Sure, he might have had more light from the city haze after the sun had set and a heat pack, one of those wonders of alchemy, to warm his feet, but it was still pretty nice to be able to relive one of Sam''s fond memories.


    "Sorry Tilly, we have to go," Smiri said, dragging Crion towards their parents, the blacksmith with another man and woman who were waving at us from in front of the longhouse.


    They had both followed us outside when Eve decided we were going to make a snowman.


    "Ah," the baker, Eve''s father exclaimed, seeing Veredith with Crion and Smiri''s parents, "give me one moment. My wife is here, with the coppers to pay our dues."


    Eve and I waved at our new friends, left outside just a moment longer to enjoy the snow.


    It felt nice.


    My throat was raw from breathing heavily in the cold and my back was maybe sweating from running around. My hands were numb and I felt tired from the whole day.


    Still, it felt nice.


    I never knew what Crion''s laugh sounded like before. We had always just stared each other down in sparring matches.


    Squnch


    Eve plopped down into the snow beside me. It was falling again from the sky. Flakes of wet frost that billowed about in the wind.


    Squnch, squnch


    It wasn''t the sound of crunchy snow in the peak of winter, but the squelching and packing sound of fresh snow.


    "We should make a snowman ourselves. We don''t need Smiri and Crion to do it."


    She waved her arms and legs up and down.


    "Isn''t it more fun with Crion and Smiri? They were able to lift the second ball of snow on top of the first too. You fell down trying to do that," I laughed.


    "Hmph."


    Squnch, squnch, squnch


    The sound of boots stepping on the snow stopped nearby.


    The melting, sticky snow was really perfect for packing together, though I had to admit there was some mud and grass staining our snowman''s face and chest. It was just a thin layer on the ground from the first snow.


    "Are you there?"


    I looked up towards where I heard the man speak.


    I had thought Eve''s father was making the crunching noises as he walked back towards us, but it was the tax collector who was going behind the longhouse.


    He didn''t seem to be talking to us, he was still too far away.


    I looked around for whoever he was speaking to but I could only see Eve, me and the snowman. Even the queue that used to stretch out in front of the longhouse had disappeared and the houses nearby just seemed to have flickering light on the edges of the closed shutters.


    What was the tax collector doing over there?


    "Hello? Tell me if you''re there."


    It was getting quite dark now, the sun probably setting behind the snow and clouds. I didn''t miss Saul and Mr. Barker when they left, did I?


    I didn''t respond to the tax collector''s call though. I think he was meeting someone near the edge of the forest.


    "Who''s that?" I winced as Eve asked me in her loud innocent voice.


    I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. The tax collector must have heard that.


    "Vis?"


    I let out a breath of relief when I realised he didn''t hear us. And then drew it in again.


    "Lord Jemson? I''m right here."


    Another man responded and walked out from the other side of the longhouse.


    It was Vis, father''s personal valet who had come back from the capital with father and this man recently.


    "Do you have it?"


    I felt Eve push against me, her head next to mine. Her breathing seemed so loud. She must have been even more nervous than I was but I just put a hand on her arm to reassure her.


    Unfortunately, I wasn''t able to reassure myself so easily. I just hoped Eve didn''t realise...


    The snow turned to rain around us, a grey noise falling over Olwick.


    "My lord, Nistan''s ring and other things are in the bag."


    I froze. Nistan? Why would a tax collector be interested in Nistan after two years?


    "Good. Lady Miladona will be pleased. Bring that to the carriage and then head back. Just a few more years..." the tax collector let some kind of implication hang and looked around, "Oh rubbish. Why did it have to rain?"


    He looked around at the rain. Then his eyes fell on me.


    "Who goes there?!" He shouted as he saw the two of us huddled together.


    I could see his face, filled with murderous intent, even through the rain.


    The pitter patter sounded muted, as if my ears were filled with cotton wadding.


    It was the same sound as the rain on the roof of the manor. A sound that was all around me as I lay behind the wooden bars, Grita rocking back and forth in a chair beside me.


    I heard the rasp of a knife as Lord Jemson drew it from his belt.


    No, no...


    I tried to take a deeper breath.


    Eve was saying something, her mouth moving open and closed. I could feel my arm plop down limp beside me.


    Plip, plop, plip, plop


    All I heard were the drops of blood, falling all around us, from the dark red sky. Grita, the stable hand and the elk all lay dead in front of me.


    I shook my head. Grita was dead. She wasn''t here anymore. I had to do something now. I had trained for the past year in the sword so that I wouldn''t be so helpless again.


    Eve was in danger.


    "... a shadow." Vis finished saying.


    "I''m sure there was something there. We can''t let anyone know about Lady Miladona."


    I focused and looked up, my head slowly clearing.


    Is it possible they didn''t see us? But how? They were so close by.


    A third figure blurred into existence behind the lodge, as if proving that I couldn''t see so well after all.


    A glint of light and a whisper of steel and then again.


    It seemed like merely a flick of her hand and two corpses lay in the snow, a pool of red beneath them.


    I flinched as Simila walked towards us, the dripping knife still in her hand.


    "Young master Tilvrade," she said calmly, the same dry smile on her face as when she laid out clothes on my bed. "You should go in now. You are shivering from the cold."

 Chapter 30: the tax collector

    When we entered the longhouse again behind Simila, all the smiles and nods seemed menacing, each hiding a different threat.


    I really was shivering as Simila had observed outside. My hands that had gone numb from rolling around snow were burning up as they hit the warmer air inside. But I wasn''t sure I was shivering because of the cold.


    "Papa!"


    Just inside, Eve cried out to the baker who was talking with Sir Barker at the table set up there. Her father turned around in surprise as his little girl threw herself into his arms.


    "Simila?" Saul asked in surprise, seeing her in front of me. "Were you with us today?"


    Simila walked around the booth, where she quickly spoke to Saul.


    "I just noticed the young master playing outside while running an errand for Lord Feles. He and his friend were sitting outside in the dark. I thought it best that they come inside." She was talking as if everything was as expected, just a few children with cold hands playing outside. "I still have an errand to attend to, so please take care of the young master."


    "Alright."


    Simila crouched down and glared at me. "We will speak to your father. Until then, don''t say a word."


    And then she was off and I was stuck there waiting for Saul.


    There weren''t many people left, only a few who had been sitting at the tables who came to hand over sacks of grain or sometimes a chicken or sheep, which Saul would hand off to someone to take outside.


    I don''t know how long passed. I fell asleep leaning against the hard wooden table until Saul shook me awake and brought me home.


    Simila was waiting at the door and brought me upstairs to father''s study.


    It was the first time I had been inside that room at the end of the hallway.


    It was quite underwhelming. I had expected a room lined with bookshelves, a heavy baroque desk and at least something like an oil lamp. I imagined thick reference books laid out on the table, maybe a tapestry. Something to suggest lordly endeavours, you know?


    Instead, it had a simple table strewn with folded papers and envelopes, probably letters. He had a little ceramic ink pot, and a few different sized bird feathers.


    There was a shelf, but it was mostly covered in odds and ends. The only things that really caught my attention were the magic stone and a small statue of a rearing horse.


    "Simila," father said as he saw us enter.


    "My lord," Simila bowed calmly. "There was a small mishap in the village after you left. Your dues collector was threatening Tilvrade."


    "Lord Jemson was? In the middle of the hall?" My father looked startled.


    "Yes, my lord. Tilvrade was making a snowman in the field with the other children."


    My father sat back down and lay a hand on his forehead.


    "Tilvrade, why did you leave the hall? Who asked you to go outside?"


    "It was Evrolina..." I said, wondering why he asked that, and quickly continued, "Evrolina and her father didn''t know anything. Lord Jemson didn''t seem to know or see who I was." I remembered him looking right at us, but he didn''t really see, "He just thought we overheard him talking to Vis."


    "He was talking to Vis? Where are they now?"


    "My lord. I felt it necessary to take care of them when they started threatening Tilvrade."


    "Mmh."


    Father seemed to be displeased, but not necessarily at either of us. I was displeased too, so it wasn''t as if I didn''t understand.


    "They were talking about a Lady Miladona," I said tentatively, hoping to share what I had heard.


    "Miladona?" Father scowled, "Do you remember what they said?"


    "Yes, they wanted Nistan''s ring. Vis said it was in the bag he gave the tax collector and the tax collector said Lady Miladona would be pleased."


    "Well, shit."


    "Ahem," I blanched then coughed to hide my laugh as I heard my father say something like that for the first time.


    He had said it so conversationally too. I saw some other ghosts around him swearing with grimacing faces and loud shouts, nothing at all like father just did.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Aha-ahem," One of them had stubbed their toe and was hoping around on one foot. I couldn''t hold my laugh in.


    "Tilvrade?" My father asked with his eyebrows rising into his forehead. "Are you alright? Maybe you would like to explain what is funny about this?"


    I felt my laughter dissipate as I heard his unimpressed tone.


    "Sorry. I just... sorry father."


    "Do you remember anything else?"


    I thought back but nothing really came to mind. I shook my head and father dismissed us, needing time to sort out his own thoughts or perhaps just sparing me from politics.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Sometimes it was Grita, sitting in a dark room. I would be in front of her, trying to wake her up. And then she would wake up and start howling like a shrieker as blood streamed down her cheeks.


    Other nights, it was Vis trotting on his horse beside the carriage. The carriage would roll to a stop, someone or something blocking the road ahead of us, and Vis would turn towards the window, the mask dropping from his face to reveal Nistan underneath.


    And yet other mornings, I would awake gasping when bloodthirsty Simila from my dreams, knife descending on me and Eve, turned into the passive maid standing in my room.


    I still couldn''t believe what I had seen. The maid that had been lurking around me for the past 2 years was a killer, an assassin.


    It happened so quickly out there in the first snow. One moment, Vis and the tax collector were shouting at us in the rain, the next, they joined the rain, a shadow of death standing with dripping blades behind them.


    It made sense, in some way. Simila was nothing like the other maids I had seen. Not only did she always look somewhat bored, an attitude not fitting for a babysitter, but her homely, if not ugly features were perhaps not so bad after all, a credit in her line of work, letting her blend in anywhere.


    Still, even though I now knew she was probably picked as some kind of bodyguard, it was unnerving to be in the same room as her.


    The flickering light from the fires painting shadows on her cheeks didn''t help either.


    The winter was dark in Olwick.


    Even in my nightmares, Vis on his horse trotted under a bright sun. But when I woke up, the only light was from the fireplace, often flickering wildly in draughts from a blizzard outside.


    The blizzards didn''t stop father. He dutifully went out every morning to join the village patrols.


    They also didn''t stop me from practising the sword in the stables, hoping someday to be strong enough to protect myself and those around me.


    I spent a lot of time in the stables, actually. Other than training in the relative warmth, Sir Barker had me do little exercises with Cinder.


    "You treat your horse like your squire, you hear?"


    He told me one morning while I tried to pat my horsie on the nose again.


    "You can feed them and give them a pat on the head for a job well done, but you also demand their respect and obedience." Sir Barker put his hand on Cinder''s shoulder when he kept on walking towards us. "Don''t let him push you around. You''re the lord here, not him."


    He pushed Cinder who stumbled back a bit and lowered his head cautiously.


    "I don''t want to be mean though. I want to be friends with Cinder."


    "Cinder isn''t the same as your friends in the village. If you want him to be your friend, then you need to earn his trust and respect."


    Sir Barker put me on the ground and then hugged me, rubbing his scratchy beard against my cheek.


    "Tilly!" He said in his gruff voice, "look how nice I am, won''t you be my friend?"


    I pushed my arms and chest forward trying to push him away.


    "Stop, stop."


    "That''s what your pussyfooting around is like to Cinder. At least you understand what I''m saying, but Cinder doesn''t."


    I grunted, why did I have to be mean though.


    "Just think of your father or Saul. Would you look up to them if they spent all day trying to be nice?" I thought of father acting likeIvian and shook my head. I wanted to be a swordsman like father, to go out and protect everyone from the shriekers.


    Father and Saul always had straight backs and the grace of a warrior to their movements.


    "Exactly. That''s why I said, you have to treat your horse like you would a squire. You take care of them and show them that you can be trusted and he will like you more for it."


    It was one of many lectures from Sir Barker about Cinder as he taught me how to care for him when I didn''t have a stablehand.


    He also had me do boring exercises with ropes around his legs, getting Cinder ready for me to hobble him when I needed to camp in the future.


    Sir Barker also took me riding sometimes. We didn''t do that last year, but he thought I should get used to riding in the snow.


    I was on the pony, not Cinder, but Sir Barker brought him along too, on a lead.


    I rubbed my hands together and pressed my lips to them to blow some warmth inside. The air was crisp and although it was a bit dark in the woods, it was bright outside.


    "Let him goooo!"


    It was as we were walking through the woods out towards Sir Barker''s home that we heard a scream in the distance.


    "Did you hear that?" I asked Sir Barker after a few moments.


    "Hear what?" He asked back, and I realised he hadn''t heard.


    "Noooo! Dadiii!"


    Kyiiiiiiiii


    Sir Barker looked towards the forest where I was looking.


    "I heard it that time. Go back to the manor and tell Saul or your father there are shriekers." Sir Barker untied Cinder from his saddle then kicked his horse.


    I looked at where he went off through the trees and then behind me towards the manor. Even if I went back, father or Saul wouldn''t make it in time.


    I had to go help. I had been training all year, so I should be able to do something.


    I tried to kick my horse the same way Sir Barker did, but my legs weren''t very long, and the thick winter trousers made it hard to move.


    Fortunately, the pony started walking forward and I put my hand out to brush away the branches. I wanted him to go faster, but he just wouldn''t.


    "Help us!"


    I heard another shout. It didn''t sound so far away as before.


    Cinder snorted behind me. He kept on looking around and doing that, but he had decided to follow me instead of head back home.


    There were more sounds of a scuffle until I went up a hill and saw the big cat fighting Sir Barker between the trees.


    It had long tufted ears and two curved bone white horns coming out of each of its shoulders. Both sides were covered in blood but Sir Barker still seemed to be staring it down from on top of his horse.


    Kyiiiii


    The cat hissed in a high-pitched sound that didn''t match its image.


    "Get away from my dad," meanwhile, the boy was still shouting at the horned rabbits around him, as if they could understand.


    He was leaning over an older man who looked asleep or dead in the snow.


    I made a snap decision and got off the pony, running towards one of the rabbits that was about to leap at the boy.

 Chapter 31: Nayen

    I lunged at the rabbit shrieker that was dashing towards the boy but I closed my eyes when I saw I wasn''t going to make it.


    "Aaah!" I heard the boy shout out as something passed beside me.


    I opened my eyes just before running into Cinder who had gotten ahead of me and interrupted the rabbit.


    Kyiiiii


    Seeing that Cinder had just managed to attract the shriekers attention, I powered my jump forward with the mana reinforcement father taught me and slashed at it.


    Thanks to my excellent skills, the rabbit jumped head on into my errant slash and lost both its front and hind legs, careening harmlessly into Cinder''s flank before dropping to the snow.


    I ran up to the boy who was staring wide eyed at me in amazement.


    "Th-thank you," he stuttered, but then started thrashing around with his tattered bag to scare off the other shriekers that had come up to nip at the man on the ground.


    It seems he had lived this long by whacking away the red eyed bunnies with it.


    "Tilvrade! What are you doing here?" Sir Barker''s voice surprised me from behind. "I told you- yah!"


    For better or for worse, he didn''t have the time to finish his scolding as the grey cat jumped at him again.


    "Behind you!" the boy shouted and I swivelled around just in time to duck.


    I got up again right after and dove towards the small creature, but it hopped away before I could hit it.


    The rushes of strength and the wind in my face as I used the mana empowered lunges was both exhilarating and exhausting. I just hoped it wasn''t in vain as the rabbits all hopped out of reach of my every swing.


    Fortunately for me, Sir Barker walked up to us just as I was feeling I couldn''t go on anymore.


    He made a few threatening noises at the shriekers and they turned their red eyes on him.


    I had been chasing them and interrupting their jumps for so long only for Sir Barker to kill them so easily, simply raising his sword to cleave through them as they jumped head first at him.


    Not all of them had died. Some of them were simply injured and still lying behind Sir Barker in the blood stained snow.


    Under the jaw, through the eye, on the spine, someone whispered and I looked around.


    "Sam?"


    No one responded, but it must have been one of the white haired visions who had reminded me. I took out my sword and started looking for the still living shriekers.


    They were scattered, a trail of kyiing creatures with malice contorting their snouts, seeming not to register any of the pain that must have gone with their injuries.


    It didn''t take much effort to kill them. The fur andpeltaround their necksgaveresistanceasI sliced them open. I sometimes had to back away and try a few times to get my hand on them tomake sure they didn''tbitemeasI did the deed.


    But soon Sir Barker came back and finished off the last of them and we went back to the boy and the old man.


    "You shouldn''t have done that," He said, cuffing my head. "You are far too talented for your own good."


    "Hehe," I laughed nervously, looking up out of the corner of my eye at the retired knight.


    "Your name was Nayen, wasn''t it? The shepherd''s son. Was it the spined lynx that did this?"


    "Please, my father, don''t let him die," the boy cried and looked up at us.


    "Right, we can find out what happened later," Sir Barker told him. "Come on, get up, or do you need to be carried too?"


    "No," he said and tried to stand.


    I grabbed his arm to help him up. He seemed to be a bit older than I was, maybe 6 or 7.


    "Don''t worry, Sir Barker''s really strong. We''ll take your father back to the manor," I told him.


    His father was pretty badly injured. The spined cat must have mauled him.


    "Thank you..." He mumbled and I tried to get him over to the pony, out of Sir Barker''s way.


    I looked around, and then looked again, but I couldn''t see the pony anywhere.


    Cinder was over by the edge of the field, looking towards us, but not exactly coming to my side.


    "I think your pony ran away." Sir Barker said as he stood up. "Fortunately Cinder is still there. You were lucky."


    PiuwitStolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Sir Barker whistled and his own destrier trotted up to him.


    "Good boy," Sir Barker told his horse, "come here Nayen." He then talked to the boy. "I can''t leave the young master here. Get on my horse and hold onto your father."


    "Sir?" The boy asked, "But I don''t know how to ride..."


    "Sit on the horse, or do you want your father to die?"


    I thought that was a bit harsh, but the boy rushed to comply.


    "There you go," Sir Barker said as he finished getting the boy and his father onto his horse. "Alright then Nayen, you just hang on. Frijd knows where to go. When you get to the manor, you leave your father on the horse and go knock on the wooden door. Say that Jom Barker sent you, you hear me?"


    The boy nodded.


    "Home boy," he called, and the destrier trotted forward, not so quickly, but perhaps a bit quickly for the boy who almost lost his balance but then hung on tight to the reins.


    "Let''s grab your horse then. Don''t spook him. I''m already impressed he is still around."


    I approached Cinder behind Sir Barker and the horse leaned its head out to sniff at the air as we approached.


    "Look at that. He''s smart, unlike you. Knows when to make some distance and who to trust."


    "It''s because I came back that Nayen is still safe though." I said, pouting a bit.


    "Maybe," Sir Barker said grudgingly, "or maybe it''s because of this horse of yours. I saw how he chased off that first shrieker over there."


    I paused. I had forgotten about that. If Cinder hadn''t dashed in, I wouldn''t have made it in time to do anything. I hadn''t actually managed to kill any of the shriekers until Sir Barker came back from his fight.


    "But you did good to keep calm and clean up the shriekers. Grizzly business that, but we should take a look at the cat. Might make something of its pelt or spines.


    Sir Barker took a quick look, but said he would come back later to see if the corpse was still there.


    We started walking back. Sir Barker just carried me on his shoulders in a piggyback, Cinder''s reins in his hand.


    It had been such a short distance into the forests when we had come, but walking through the snow, it took us what must have been hours before we met with father who had saddled up to find us.


    Father had us both get on his horse and we got back soon after that.


    "It was a spined lynx. I haven''t seen one of those in years. Ehsan must have injured it, or else I would have had a hard time of it."


    "It must have come from the east. I''ve seen their tracks during the summer, though I''ve never heard of one of them becoming a shrieker. The shepherd and his boy were unlucky."


    "Is he going to make it? It won''t be good for Olwick if we lose him."


    "I told Vis to run to the village and get the wise woman. Did you see his flock out there? Nayen said they had taken them out along the creek."


    "Must have all fled."


    I listened to father and Sir Barker''s conversation, but all I could really hang onto was that Nayen''s father wasn''t quite so helpless and ordinary as I thought.


    Maybe I was just a little bit reckless to run into that fight without knowing what was there...


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I didn''t see Ehsan, the shepherd again. He was still alive, but quite badly injured and probably wouldn''t be able to go out as a shepherd again.


    The man was brought to the village where he was taken care of by his wife and the wise woman that father mentioned.


    Nayen was taken up by father as the new stablehand.


    It was funny how those things changed. I was approaching my 4th birthday soon, and already there had been Vis, the dumb man whose name I had never learned and now Nayen.


    "What are you doing?" Nayen asked me as I was sketching one of the arrays in my wax tablet.


    I definitely hadn''t decided to go sketch in the stables because I was hoping to be noticed by the other boy. It was pure coincidence.


    "Oh, just designing a magic rune to stop time." I said offhand. I did that kind of thing all the time.


    It''s not as if I had been slacking off on figuring out magic since my failure with the sharpening spell. Researchers learn and thrive from their mistakes, they don''t just give up and become swordsmen instead.


    "Oh." Nayen didn''t seem as impressed as I would have expected. "What''s a majeekoon?"


    I sighed and shook my head. This is why I had to take the burden of being the next lord of Olwick onto my own shoulders. Few could keep up with me.


    "Come here, I''ll show you." I waved at him. "See this? This is a stasis rune."


    "Hmm," he had lost the ability to speak in his awe.


    I smiled up at him waiting for his praise.


    "Uh, my dad used to draw sometimes too."


    "This isn''t just a drawing. It''s a rune. It let''s you keep things like food from going bad with mana." I explained patiently.


    "Right..." He seemed to have lost interest. "Lord Tilvrade, I just want to say thank you again. If you hadn''t come then, my father would have died for sure, and I probably would have too."


    "Oh, right. Don''t worry about it. I couldn''t just ignore you there," he definitely made the conversation heavy.


    "You were so impressive jumping and hitting the shriekers like that. You''re not even 4, are you? I''m already 7 and I was so scared when it happened, I was just screaming and waving around the bag..."


    "Hey look," I found another chance, "You can do it too. It''s just because I use mana like father and Saul. That''s what the rune will do too."


    "Really? You think I can do that?"


    "Yeah, let me teach you," I said, eager to make a new friend and cheer boy up a bit.


    "Then let''s try tomorrow. I think I should go home now and take care of father."


    "Oh... Alright, let''s do that then."


    I was looking forward to having a friend in the manor. Crion still came to spar sometimes, but we didn''t really do much else, and I only saw Eve rarely.


    "Lord Tilvrade, I''ll see you tomorrow then."


    Nayen walked out of the stables, leaving me in the rather chilly place all alone.


    I couldn''t just leave though. I came to the stables to focus, not just because I wanted to show off to Nayen and make a new friend.


    Just wait, I''ll show you this stasis rune when it''s ready and you''ll show me a face filled with surprise!


    Achoo!


    Maybe I should go inside first though.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Tilly, did you want something?" Simila asked and I looked away quickly.


    "No, nothing."


    How did she even see me? She had been looking the other way to stoke the fire in my room.


    I spent many mornings observing Simila, trying to catch her make a mistake or do something incredible. Maybe she would adjust the logs around with her bare hand or jump out the window as a shortcut to the kitchen.


    Father didn''t seem very surprised when she told him she took care of Jemson and Vis that night at the beginning of the winter. But I still didn''t know what was up with her.


    She must be using mana reinforcement like father and Saul did. But if that was the case, why didn''t she train outside with them in the morning?


    Should I call her Sir Simila? It sounded wrong though, why did I only hear men being called sir and not mother or other women?


    The time I didn''t spend staring at Simila, I spent frustrated with Sam''s memories that never wanted to be clear when I actually wanted to use them.


    I had slowly pieced together what the stasis rune should look like and realised I was still so far from making it.


    The icon an outline of the hourglass was in the middle of an extending pattern of lines moving outward. Each of those were meant to set the rune to tethers, which would determine the area of effect and the strength of the stasis. Then an inlay would be made for a mana stone on the other end.


    The only problem was that it would not work at all if I got the lines or proportions off. I needed to learn what all the symbols meant, how to calculate numbers.

 Chapter 32: magic lessons

    "Eve," I told my friend, "I told you we''re busy."


    "But I want to play magic too," she whined.


    "We''re not playing anything. This is serious," I told her. She kept on making a mess of the beans when she tried to count them.


    We were all out in front of the manor where the road to the door passed. There was stone cobbling near the stairs, so it was a good surface to put the dried beans on.


    It was spring again and I was now 4. I had been spending the winter trying to learn arithmetic from Sam''s memories. It was a must for any mage. I also tried to spend time with Nayen since he seemed a bit lonely in the stables with his father injured in the village.


    "Tilvrade, don''t you think we can do something else for a bit?"


    That didn''t mean he should be lazy though.


    I sighed and shook my head, "Nayen, whose side are you on? Didn''t I tell you I''m teaching you about runes today?"


    Nayen had taken to the mana training enthusiastically, excited whenever I taught him how to condense it or move it around. I guess it was neat to feel the chill of mana gathering in your core, but it was hardly anything to be happy about. Still, I graciously helped him. Perhaps he would be able to use mana reinforcement someday.


    The deal was, however, that he would have to learn more advanced things so that he could help me too.


    Even if I did have an advantage over everyone else in this kingdom because of Sam''s memories of magic, I was only one person. I needed to have others who could help me out, make runes and arrays with me to make progress in this world''s magic.


    I was going to tell Nayen about all the icons and the magics and then, maybe one day, Nayen could do all the stupid arithmetic calculations while I brought the latest inventions to the royal court.


    Couldn''t go wrong aiming to be a royal mage, I figured, though I had yet to hear if Farand had one of those.


    So here I was, trying to teach him some basic arithmetic with dried beans from the cellar, when Eve came to disrupt my lesson.


    "So as I was saying," I tried to show leadership and get on with the lesson, "if you have 23, that''s how many beans there are here, then you divide them into two, like this, and you''ll get 11, see?"


    I started moving the beans apart, but there was one extra for some reason. I threw that one away. Nayen must have miscounted the beans before. He''s still learning. Deep breath.


    "So looking at the rune-"


    "Tilly, Fafi''s eating the bean," Eve interrupted again, pointing at Sir Barker''s dog who was on the stone path with us outside. It seems she had seen me throw the bean and was wondering if it was edible. Stupid dog.


    "It''s a bean, she can eat it." I said patiently, "Anyway, we want to know how far the tethers need to be from the centre of the vessel, so if there are 23 inches between the icon and the mana source, then the half way point is 11, and the other side here is..."


    I frowned a bit. There was something about a right angled triangle and the ratio of the other angle, but it was all getting mixed up in my head. Why couldn''t I just draw the rune icon and give it mana?Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Why is the drawing from the other day so complicated? We''ve been staring at these beans all week now..."


    Nayen asked.


    To be honest, I had started teaching him arithmetic because that''s what I needed to figure out how the tethers should be placed. I kind of just assumed he''d know what a rune is. Maybe I''d have to start over again with some of the basics.


    "So, the rune is-"


    "Tilly, Tilly! Look, it''s a butterfly!" Eve shouted and stuck her hands in front of my face. She opened them and there was a gold and red pair of wings that fluttered up and down as it tried to escape.


    "Wow, you caught it?" She had closed her hands so that it couldn''t get away. No wait, I can''t be distracted by the butterfly. "That''s no fair. I said we need to concentrate."


    "It''s pretty. Where did you find it?" Nayen suddenly looked really interested in that butterfly.


    This was it. I couldn''t do this anymore.


    "Hmph," I picked up my notepad and stomped away. Eve and Nayen could talk about butterflies. See if I care.


    I looked over my shoulder as I got nearer to the door. They could at least call out to me or something...


    Clitter, clatter, trop trop trop


    Instead of Eve and Nayen though, I looked at the procession of horses and men that had turned into view around a corner in the road.


    There were two carriages, one like ours with shutters over the door handle that were left open in the spring air, the other more of a wagon pulled by a single ageing horse.


    "Tilvrade, it would be best if we went inside," Simila was behind me on the stairs.


    I looked at the man on the wagon over my shoulder. It was the peddler from last year. Was he back to make trouble?


    "Nayen, please go back to the stables. Eve, come inside with us."


    Simila also gave my friends instructions and then took me inside.


    Father was in the study


    "My lord, my lady. The peddler from last year has come with Lord Scafel." Simila told them. She must have recognised the violet crest on the carriage.


    "Thank you Simila," father responded and my parents both went downstairs.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I wasn''t brought to greet the lord and the peddler, and I was even excused from the table for the next few days as my parents must have invited him to dinner.


    Instead, I was mostly holed up in my room over the next 2 weeks reading fairy tales and trying to learn a bit more arithmetic.


    It was afterwards that I heard something of what had happened.


    Nayen told me that the lord had come claiming that he would have to hold a hearing on Riddith and Nolsrun, the baker and the miller, on behalf of Viscount Ikburr. Apparently father had refused quite angrily when they were still in the stables and then they were insulting each other back and forth as they went inside.


    That already seemed like mess enough.


    But then the lord and the peddler left a few days later and I was brought back down to the breakfast table.


    Mother and father were arguing again, this time about me.


    "Tilvrade and Brendal don''t need to go to the capital, Sivis. It''s better if they stay here."


    "My dear," my father was saying with some annoyance, "I have that old merchant''s place in Seventhill. Remember the one you said was nearby that you thought could use some redecoration? We will be outside of the East Gate. We should be perfectly safe. Isn''t that the reason we brought Simila with us?"


    "I just worry, Sivis."


    Mother just said her thoughts but didn''t press any further.


    "Cond Yse is ill. I am sure he will put things aright here if we just told him. Viscount Ikburr is pushing his authority here. Fortunately, he isn''t bold enough yet to act openly. We need to do something this summer."


    "What did the lord try to do?" I decided I should interrupt.


    Obviously something bad had happened when the peddler came back, but I hadn''t really figured out what a few bags of wheat had to do with father.


    I was mainly just worried about Eve and her father, Riddith. Nothing was going to happen to them, right?


    "Tilvrade, do you remember Lord Scafel from when we passed through Ibbergreen two years ago?" I nodded. Nayen had told me it was the lord from Ibbergreen who came here. "He has been eyeing Olwick, ever since it was vacated by the lord before us. The previous lord was a relative of Sir Barker, so with his and the Count Yse''s help, I was able to come here." I hadn''t known much about Olwick before I was born, except that Gregrick had been the steward 11 years ago. "Now, however, I have few allies in Gristol or Fort Efeles, so that old man is making silly plans with that brown nosing peddler. We won''t let him and Viscount Ikburr push us out of Olwick though."


    "And Eve''s father?" I asked.


    Father was strong, he wouldn''t let the old man from Ibbergreen do anything to us, but I was still worried about my friend.


    "Don''t worry about Riddith." Father said, "I won''t let them make problems for Olwick."

 (Arc 2) Chapter 33: an early morning

    "Young master Tilvrade, breakfast is served. You better come down now since your father said to be out early," Ivian''s voice awoke me from the half opened door of my room.


    "Alright," I responded, but remained under the sheets.


    My mind wandered in drowsy wakefulness, but Ivian''s voice lingered.


    "No! Tilly! Run!" an echo of her scream flitted through my mind.


    Not for the first time, I remembered how her hair, wet and dishevelled fell around and over her face, eyes wide, telling me to abandon her. A shadow of a figure I couldn''t quite remember loomed behind her with a sword.


    It was good that Ivian was here.


    Her presence made sure I wouldn''t forget how helpless and weak I was that day. How close I was to losing her, and my world again.


    Reorientated from my half-waking dreams, I sat up, and the sheets fell around my bared waist.


    I yawned and debated whether it was worth risking my parents'' ire to just go back to sleep.


    Although I had gotten used to it over the years, the dream of the last of the three spires, the humming black tower still haunted my nights. Even this night, it had been there for a time, doing whatever it did on its little island.


    As a result, I was not a morning person, and probably never would be.


    Still, the mana dreams would only get worse if I didn''t get up. I always hesitated and took a moment to grumble to myself, but, like every other morning, I didn''t actually go back to sleep.


    The room was dark, but I could have found the curtain even if I was blind.


    Ever since we returned to the capital again three years ago, I had lived the greater part of my life in this room.


    I smirked at the memory of my excitement hearing mother''s stories of Westhill and lower town, the slums outside South Gate and the other parts of the capital when we first came here. Back during that winter, I hated my room in grandfather''s palace that kept me locked inside. Now, I hated all of Gristol.


    It was crowded. It stunk of urine and sewers. Its people were either conniving merchants or plotting nobles. And, worst of all, I never knew who I could trust here forcing me to rarely leave the residence.


    Fortunately, I was not sweaty at all this morning, a sign that the summer heat was dying down now and we would be back soon in Olwick for the winter.


    The room was kept dark by a heavy curtain, painted with flowers and little children. My room was nothing near as fancy as the gilded prison the Edbrian wing was. I was happy about that though. The more I learned of the opulence of the corrupt capital, the less I wanted to be involved with it.


    None of it was useful either, the way that the opulence of Lucia was.


    Except the curtains that is. Mother still seemed to think I needed pretty curtains. Perhaps she needed a daughter instead.


    Now that I had light, it was time to get dressed, so I knocked on the door of Simila''s chamber.


    I had disliked Simila''s seeming disdain for mother back in the early days in Gristol and then I was scared of her for a year after I saw her unsheathe her blades. It took a while before I started to realise she was person too, who actually seemed to be doing her best to care for and protect me despite her own past and clumsiness.


    In fact, after we came back to the capital I started appreciating her a bit more. If it wasn''t for her, I might not be here today.


    I smiled as I saw the thin woman yawn.


    "Tilvrade, you''re early today," she said sleepily. She had been up in the middle of the night to clean my room and empty the chamber pot. The first time I woke up to see the maid in the room I had a fright, but I learned then that it was a daily occurrence.


    Any other valet or maid might have been fired for such slovenly behaviour as yawning in front of their young master''s face. But Simila knew she was not really a maid.


    "Have you forgotten?" I teased, and she looked at me questioningly.


    "It''s the birthday party today," I said with a smile.


    "Ah, right," she exclaimed but then she frowned, "still, that''s only after noon."


    "I know. I wanted to sleep longer too. Ivian woke me up saying I had to be down for breakfast. Just find something simple for now, I still want to go to the yard."


    It was a special day, for me and my whole family. But festivities would come soon enough.


    "Have you managed to hit the target yet?"


    Simila laid out a set of white and blue clothing for me on the bed as she asked me about the trick I had asked to learn.


    "Only with the sling. Throwing the knives is hard..."


    "Well, practise if you have time and don''t forget to increase the distance for the sling. You''re already 7 this year, it won''t be too long until you''re too old for a boy to be taken care of by a maid."


    It really was, I thought as I put the shirt over my naked chest and buttoned it up in front of her.


    "Did you just call me old?" I asked wide eyed at her. Simila was never very talkative or emotional, but I had realised at one point that she seemed sensitive about her age, and never missed a chance to poke fun at her with that. Of course, I only did so because she was being too self-conscious, only 30 years old herself.


    "Aah," she sighed and rolled her eyes. I''ll take that as progress.


    I was just going for breakfast, so the shin length trousers with strings tied loosely in the cuffs and the linen shirt I put on were all I needed.


    As I walked to the door, I looked at the manuscript I was reading last night, lying in the sun atop the davenport desk.


    I had left it there, during the night, the evaporated candle beside it.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    This one was a thick book I had gone over before.


    Spending the summers in Gristol was lonely compared to Olwick. Ivian only had time for Brendal and my friends Eve, Nayen and Crion were all so far away. Even mother and father were busier, often going out leaving me at home.


    So I started reading more.


    At first, it was for its utility. Reading was a chore but I wanted to learn the letters and symbols so that I could learn more. I had little else to do during the hot days shut-in in our residence here in Gristol.


    As I grew up, I started to take on many of Sam''s behaviours. Sam Ivers was a jock at heart, most happy when he was running and casting on the duel team or drinking and doing silly things with his friends during draft.


    Ironically, it was because of Sam that I had become a bookworm. The reason being that I wanted to understand who, or what, Sam was.


    One of the first things I looked into were the elves. Not only were they an important part of this kingdom''s history, but the haunting smile of the girl in the woods still filled me with curiosity and maybe a bit of a spooky chill whenever I remembered it.


    Because they looked similar to the white haired people of Sam and his world, I wanted to believe they were one and the same. I looked up histories first, then myths and legends, trying to find anything that would prove it or at least explain.


    There wasn''t much written about them in father''s studies or among the books I was able to acquire. But I came to know enough Farand and Keiran, of the elves and the Klisimians and even the old stories like those of the velikans to realised that there was nothing like what Sam passed on to me in the known world.


    I closed the cover of the book on the desk.


    I had gotten somewhat bored of reading the same fairy tales over and over, or falling asleep after skimming through pages of text for a hint.


    There was more than a trace of Sam in my step on the carpeted stairs. I wanted to believe I was Tilvrade Feles, a bookworm and son of the lord of the little village and fief of Olwick, not just the ghost of another man.


    "Good morning Tilly," a toddler said from the small shield table we had in the living room where we only ate breakfast.


    I sighed as I saw the little smile playing across his face.


    "Good morning Brendal."


    My younger brother Brendal, already 4 years old now.


    That first summer after he was born, mother and Ivian stared affectionately as I stared and poked at him in wonder. The second and third years, he took over Ivian''s time and attention, to my great chagrin. And the fourth year, I decided I should just focus on important things and shut myself in my room to read for most of the time in Gristol, avoiding him outside of meals and the training field.


    It was just recently though that things started to go wrong. Perhaps it was me, always the golden brother, my parents expecting more of my little brother who only started to ride and practise the sword this past year. Instead of looking up to me, he wanted to compete with me, and seemed to be quickly growing into a little brat.


    "Were you reading late again?" He asked me. He thought father didn''t approve of me reading so much, so was gleeful to bring it up at the table.


    I sniffed at him in disdain, refusing to be goaded into answering his question.


    Father didn''t really disapprove of me reading. Maybe it was just because he wasn''t big on desk work that he found it a bit awkward to talk about books and writing with us. He did go to the university though, so I hoped that some day we would talk about research or history.


    As far as Brendal was concerned though, that meant father liked the one who was more keen on the training grounds and swinging a sword over their head and now that he started going out to the yard he wanted nothing less than to monopolise father''s attentions on top of Ivian''s.


    "Tilvrade, come and eat. There is not much time." My mother smiled and spoke to me.


    Simila pushed in the back of the chair for me as I sat down.


    "Do you think you could speak to father? It wouldn''t hurt to do away with practice just for this morning..." I asked mother who was eating an apple with the skin and all, just as she liked them.


    I took a roll and a slice of butter while I waited for her to say something.


    While I had faith in my strength and technique, there was a lot to do on my experiment. I had finally managed to figure out the stasis rune proportions and was eager to get it set up before we returned to Olwick for the winter. That was more important right now than further outstripping my brother in sparring.


    "Tilly, what is this about? You are already up and you never used to complain about training. Your father and I are both so proud of you. Oh, and do not make crumbs on the tablecloth next time. That is disgraceful."


    Brendal tittered.


    ¡°Brendal, if you mock your brother again this morning, you won''t be going with us to the celebration.¡±


    "Yes mother," we both replied meekly.


    I might prefer my breakfast at a reasonable hour of 9, but I guess I should just be happy that I was having breakfast at all.


    Actually, that was one of the reasons I didn''t resent us moving back to the capital all those years ago.


    For all the nuisance it is to live here for 7 months of the year, it was also the reason we firmly kept to the customs of high ranking nobles as father formally still is today. If we didn''t, as the son of a low ranking lord got Olwick, I might not be living the noble life in my parents residence, but could have been a page or squire in training at another lord''s manor.


    "How about this," my mother continued when she noticed I was still a bit sullen, "There should be no issue if you take that small book with you to the festivities."


    "Really?" I looked up at her, surprised. Mother was always really strict about etiquette and manners, so she wouldn''t normally let me bring a book anywhere outside the manor.


    "Just wait until the introductions and mingling are over, then you can read it out of the way."


    "Yes mother." I said, this time with a smile on my face, if not a significant change in my practised tone.


    "And do not speak with your mouth full."


    Oops, I had forgotten something else in my excitement.


    Mother sighed a bit regretfully while she looked tenderly at my ebullient mishap.


    ¡°You know why your father and I feel uncomfortable about all your reading, right?¡± She continued with a sad smile when I shook my head, ¡°You are growing up too quickly. You are still so young Tilly, yet you read and act beyond your years with that secretive frown. We are worried for you, you know. Particularly after... all that happened with the stigma.¡±


    There was a bit of hesitation before she said quickly finished her sentence on the stigma. This was the reason I didn''t talk about the continuing shadow of the mana dreams. Even though it was there, it didn''t seem harmful, just a strange holdover of the past that I hoped my parents wouldn''t worry about.


    Unfortunately, that meant I had to betray my mother''s hopes that I be her ''little Tilly'' and focus on reading more.


    Whether it was to unlock the secrets of Sam''s world or figure out what the maleficent mana was caused by, the only way was to research. And it worked, actually. Although more by happenstance of triggering memories, I was able to sketch out and actually understand the heat rune finally. As soon as I got back to Olwick, I wanted to realise it. Though I still needed to somehow find the materials for the mana vessel and a magic stone as we well.


    ¡°You, my little troublemaker, should take your brother''s example and learn your letters already.¡± I heard Brendal laugh and looked up to see him getting tickled by mother who had stood from the table. ¡°I have to go get ready now. Be kind to your brother."


    "Be kind to me!" Brendal echoed her and my smile froze on my face.


    ¡°You too Brendal. Be kind to Tilly.¡±


    Breakfast was always an informal thing. It was perhaps my favourite time of the day, as I could eat at my leisure.


    "Guess what?" brother squeaked with that indefatigable grin. This breakfast would be less peaceful, unfortunately. "I was able to swing the sword 50 times yesterday."


    "Is that right? You must have impressed father then," I said with a roll of my eyes.


    It''s not that I was being sarcastic. What I said was true after all. Not many 4 year olds could handle that weight for 50 swings, even if it was a fairly small wooden sword.


    "Just wait! I''ll get even better than you!"


    And that was the heart of it.


    I didn''t hate my brother. I even felt fond of him up until recently. He used to be so small and cute. It wasn''t his fault that Ivian followed him around all the time instead of me.


    He was just annoying and always trying to show he was better than me since he started training outside with us. If it was only that, it wouldn''t be so bad, but he also told mother and father whenever I did something odd or personal, which was really inconvenient for me because of Sam.


    "Brendal, did you finish eating? How about we get you changed and I''ll take you to your father?" Ivian was annoying recently too, always goading my brother along competitively. "You have to work hard to catch up with young master Tilly."


    "Yes!" He shouted enthusiastically and Ivian picked him up from his chair and put him on the floor.


    "We''ll see you outside," she told me and I was glad for the moment of quiet as they left the room.


    I bit into an apple and bit down on something hard.


    I spat it out and almost jumped up in glee. My broken tooth had finally fallen out, following a few others that had gone over the past couple years. I was finally growing into my real teeth and would leave my smile''s scar behind.

 Chapter 34: training with father

    I strapped the cuirass over a linen shirt and then put on two bracers, and a padded metal helm.


    I kept them in the armoury, which was essentially just a musty shed near the stables. It''s where we kept all the gear.


    As we lived outside the city wall, in Seventhill, there were plenty of grounds that led into what could be mistaken for forest, if you didn''t know that there would be another manor not far off.


    When we had just come to Seventhill, the manor had seemed a bit run down. Father had already hired Crasilla and Ovelrun, the maid and footman who I rarely heard and never saw who took care of cleaning and stocking the firewood. They had apparently cleaned much of the manor and fixed some of the cracks and mould but it took a year of living here before it felt like home.


    There was also a gardener, Mr. Drotwool who I sometimes did see, still pulling out weeds and tearing down rather pretty vines that used to grow along the manor walls. The front was quite well tended now, with a row of silver dust planted along the edge to contrast with the colours of the nasturtiums and geraniums behind.


    "Tilvrade, you are late." father called out as he saw me enter the yard. "Look at your brother, here before you and already training."


    The back of the manor, in contrast, had no gardens. It was mud and grass and cobblestones. This was the training yard. Half of it was for the horses, and the other half for sword practice.


    "I''m here earlier than usual," I made a weak excuse. It''s not so much that I was here early as that father moved training earlier to accommodate the afternoon plans.


    I was ready to train though.


    Judging by the fact father was waiting here for me, he intended to have a spar.


    Usually I just trained on my own, though Saul often led or corrected my drills. It was only on some days that there were mock fights to see what progress was being made.


    "Give me a moment, I just want to stretch," I told father.


    I took a deep breath and tried to clear my mind. It was important to Sam, a fairly basic routine I had developed based on duel team memories.


    Father thought it was ridiculous when I started doing this a year ago, but since I insisted, he no longer asked too closely. He did try to give me some freedom, never demanding more of me than I did of myself and never raising his voice either.


    Perhaps it was due to his childhood under his own father, a father whose heavy hand and proscriptions had pushed him away in a tragedy.


    Even so, father was demanding as well, a perfectionist because of those same expectations grandfather had of him. It was why he focused on the sword and trained me and Brendal with care and encouragement.


    "You''re ready now? You really should stop that nonsense."


    Stretching done, I jogged quickly over to the fence of the riding field and then back to father who was looking over Brendal with Saul, who was now a knight in his own right, father''s only retainer knight since Jom Barker died last year.


    "Father."


    "Go easy on him, my lord, the running at least will be good." Saul spoke up in my defence. "He''s better at the sword than either of us were at his age."


    "Mmh, I guess. Come on then. Saul, please take care of Brendal while we spar."


    "As you say, my lord." Saul said.


    Father led me away a bit and then put on his own helm.


    "Here should be fine. Let''s see what you can do today."


    Judging by the sweat I saw cooling on father and Saul''s foreheads a moment ago, they had been out here since the early morning already, probably training with some of the guards.


    I wonder if he even had something to eat.


    I focused on my mana, making sure I was concentrating it in my arms and knees.


    "Aaah!" I shouted out and ran up before bringing my sword down overhead.


    I put power into my knees and gauged a good opening, father would have to parry and then-


    "Oof"


    Father feinted the parry I was expecting, but instead of knocking my sword to the side, he just stepped to the side and let my sword slide down his before my shoulder thumped into his fist and pommel from my own momentum.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    In a battle, he could have bashed my head in or simply slashed at me with his sword.


    "Three more bouts and then you should practise while I go clean up. Come on, on your feet."


    It happens. Father was far better even than Saul, who could beat me nine times out of ten.


    I settled back onto my heels and clenched my teeth.


    I was used to this, but the pain was still pain.


    Father trained me just as Sir Barker always said you should train squires, with a firm hand and no nonsense.


    I felt my wooden sword handle under my grip and placed it in front of me. Father would initiate this time.


    His sword came down straight over his head, just like I had tried before.


    I brought my sword up feinting a parry like he just did, but then stepped backwards so the blow would pass in front of me.


    Father''s wooden blade elongated, and I just had time to bring my sword up in front of my head. I used mana to jump backwards, not having time to make more than a small push off the ground and then thrust my sword towards father who was closing the distance.


    But my sword didn''t meet any resistance as the man almost twice my height disappeared.


    I felt the ground meet my shoulder and then father''s hand was on my head.


    He had dashed underneath my thrust and then kicked my legs out from under me.


    "Not bad," father grunted. He sounded annoyed that he was forced to hit the ground himself instead of finishing me elegantly with the sword. "Your reflexes are getting better. You have to work on your perception and footwork though. You would have tripped over yourself if you hadn''t used that reinforced burst, well done on that though."


    Even if he praised me for that, I felt frustrated. I had used mana reinforcement and still hadn''t managed to do anything.


    Father and Saul had nothing but praise when it came to my mana talent. Usually, a page would be made into a squire when they demonstrated the ability to condense mana and do basic reinforcement. It was one of the proofs of becoming a man in Farand.


    For me though, it wasn''t even my accomplishment. I liked finding out new things from Sam''s world. I wasn''t ashamed to figure things out from the foreign memories or to show them off as my own. It took a lot of work to fit together concepts, understand calculations or research what things meant in the books and stories in Farand.


    That wasn''t the same as the habits though, the little quirks or sometimes muscle memories that I realised I had that let me know mana.


    I pushed away my disquiet and just brought my sword up again.


    It was my turn, so I would try to use my footwork and sword technique to put pressure on him this time.


    Father held his sword low, but I didn''t just assume that meant there was an opening towards his chest. It was all about the momentum. If I could make him think I was committing, then I could create an opening when he committed in response.


    I straightened my arms and whipped the tip of my sword directly forward in another thrust like the one I had used when he charged me a few moments ago.


    I saw him step to the side and I used the foot I had stepped forward with to push into a slash at his waist.


    He parried but instead of taking another swing, I kept circling around him to aim a thrust in slightly awkwardly from an unexpected angle at his back.


    Father jumped to the side and then sprung right at me, my sword guard brought up just in time to strike his helm as he pushed me to the ground.


    I tumbled over and just stayed there trying to catch my breath.


    I did it!


    I hadn''t used any mana, and had gotten him to strike defensively, putting himself at risk to push me off balance.


    He would have still won if it was a real battle, but I had scored the hit on his head, which was more of a win than I had ever had before.


    "Good, very good." He said. I showed him my tooth-gapped grin. "One more time, before you lose that feeling. Remember, balance and prediction."


    When father first gave me a sword when I wasn''t even 3, I swung it around a bit and thought I was a hero. I didn''t really understand why father decided the sword wasn''t so important the next few months as he got me to jump around with mana reinforcement.


    It was because I was more likely to hurt myself than anything else. Even last year when Brendal was three, father just let the overeager baby hold the sword and wave it around with supervision.


    Even when I did manage to do full drills though, I wanted to be more than just a knight. I had all my dreams of becoming a genius mage who could lead this world into a new age. This style of backwater knights seemed childish, inefficient with Sam''s perspective.


    Then I had that incident with the sharpening spell and realised there was more to it than that. It wasn''t that father and the rest of the people here were dumb, it''s that they lived in a different world with its own rules.


    Father''s tricks all worked, unlike Sam''s. He was about as great a teacher in the techniques of knights as I could ask for. And, unlike other knights who usually only learned mana enhancement late into their training as a squire, when they were used to condensing mana, I had started early and seemed to have a decent condensation rate.


    I got up and fixed my helm back so it wasn''t slanted on my head.


    I charged at him again, but father just parried and hit me on the head.


    I was too distracted after getting my first point against him.


    "That''s enough. You''ve lost your focus. Practise your footwork. Just do an overhead slash but try stepping forward with different feet and think of how to reposition yourself when there are attacks setting you off balance."


    "Yes father," I panted out.


    Father walked back over to Brendal who had finished his 50 swings and then took him inside.


    I went through the movements, over and over again.


    It was exhausting, but I did the mana reinforcement too. I had been hoping to get over the mana dreams and start storing mana again, at least a little bit. The dreams, however, still continued even now, and I was afraid that I could relapse into something worse than that painful stigma.


    "Don''t mind your father too much, he''s feeling stressed himself. I saw how he laid you out flat."


    Saul had walked over, still here in the yard to supervise me.


    "I know. Did you see? I got a hit!"


    "Oh!" Saul''s expression changed, "You got a hit on your father? No wonder he was looking grumpy."


    I finished off my own hundred flourishes then went back inside.


    I was late enough to the bathing room that father and the others had left already, so I had the water to myself.


    It was already a bit ugly from the others'' soapy runoff, but it was still warm from when Ovelrun must have poured and heated it.

 Chapter 35: another birthday

    It was a special day, for me and my whole family. Dare I say it was a special day for everyone who was anyone in the Duchy of Efeles? Perhaps even beyond.


    It was Count Verbon Yse''s 23rd birthday.


    Yes, he was count now. his father had passed away in a most tragic hunting accident 2 years ago. It was oddly just two months after Count Bairv, his bitter rival and the father of Nistan, my kidnapper, had passed away, ending one cycle of feuds between the neighbouring countiess, and ushering in a cycle anew.


    Verbon Yse''s 23rd birthday, of course, has nothing to do with why it was an important day.


    Grandfather''s 50th anniversary as the Duke got Efeles, incidentally, also happened to fall on this day, the third Monday of the 9th month.


    I''m half convinced my grandfather decided to wed my half-aunt off to this Count Verbon Yse just so that he could throw himself his own party today. It couldn''t possibly be a coincidence.


    I sighed as we got out of the elegant carriage, which father had ordered specifically for today. Even our family crest was painted on it in gaudy reds and purples. As the first son of the duke, his family couldn''t just show up in its usual vulgar country style.


    I would really rather just stay at the manor and read.


    There was so much I still wanted to look into, and this was going to be a day of pomp, new enemies and almost certain humiliation, if grandfather could have his say.


    The palace I saw from the glass windows of the carriage was not the one I had lived in as a baby, but the palace of the Elafoz.


    It was magnificent by the standards of buildings that I have seen in this life, which is to say it was slightly more opulent than grandfather''s palace. I hadn''t seen many manors except of lord across the years.


    In the courtyard alone, there was a fountain of 8 fish spewing water from their mouths over a ring of burnished metal sickle moons. Behind it, was a colonnade of trees, a symbol, perhaps of the Elafoz''s honour of protecting the grove north of the city. Although most of the view of the mansion behind it was blocked, I could see a copper or bronze dome rising on top of the trees. The money spent just to plate that would have been enough to feed a fief for a month, or maybe put a portcullis on one of the Leslie duchy''s southern border castles.


    And all around the cobblestones and trees was immaculate, short-cut grass.


    There were people spread out on the lawns and under the trees. The men were dressed in one or two bright colours, checkered or alternating between coat and waist jacket. The women lifted voluminous dresses just like mother''s as she accepted father''s hand to help her down from the carriage in front of me.


    However, I quickly noticed the whispers as I came out from behind my parents. Some pointed fingers and murmured words behind elegant fans at the women dressed similarly to mother.


    The women who gossiped were dressed simpler, without a ruff, nor the same width of dress. They looked slimmer and more elegant to me, perhaps appealing to my memories of Sam''s military balls in Lucia.


    The two groups seemed to part into clean divisions, factions within factions perhaps. I was fortunately spared from these politics so far.


    "Brother, sister. Thank you for being here. It is nice to see faces of real family in this big crowd father put together."


    Lady Marian who came to greet us was dressed in the simple style.


    "And my two nephews. You both look very smart in those long coats."


    I blushed as she leaned down to let me kiss her cheek.


    I had met Aunt Marian once before, just shortly after she was wed to Count Yse. I swear she was not even Ivian''s age and Ivian was only 25 this year. Her high cheek bones and her kind smile somehow reminded me of lieutenant Izabeth. Though my good impressions were somewhat shattered by the heavy perfume she wore.


    Lady Marian then placed her baby blue gloved hand on mother''s arm.


    "Cianna, I should have told you about the Elafoz''s wife. I''m afraid she is quite keen on this new style of dress from her home in Keiran. But no matter, you are far from alone in your look and among family."


    Mother looked flustered, but it was just a dress.


    I noticed father walk off towards a group of other men and hesitated whether I should follow him or Aunt Marian who was leading mother and Brendal somewhere as well.


    A third option soon presented itself not far away. I saw Pricel with his younger sister, Delthimay. The older boy waved and my decision was made.


    "Good evening Lord Pricel, Miss Delthimay," I greeted them with a prim bow and a familial smile, careful to use the right honourifics.


    Both of them bowed too, but only the bare minimum for decorum as there were no other adults around.


    ¡°You lost a tooth!¡± Dilthimay shouted. My smile had revealed my not so handsome feature left by the apple this morning. ¡°Look, I lost one too.¡±


    Dilthimay, quite unladylike, opened her mouth to show me her own tooth-gap.


    I laughed as Pricel put a hand over her face in exasperation.


    "Little cousin, I was just telling my sister about the envoy. Have you heard?"


    Although he was trying to cover up the little incident, it seemed like Pricel was genuinely excited about this envoy too.


    I chided myself for even bothering to keep formality. I should have addressed Pricel as cousin, as well, not lord. It was both proper for this family gathering and less stiff for our age.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I felt I could kind of relate to Pricel. He was very different from the boy he was at my age. He was tall now, and his face would have been handsome if not for the speckling of freckles and pimples on his nose and cheeks. But that would pass in time.


    We also went through a lot together, once upon a time.


    "What envoy? You mean here?"


    There shouldn''t really be an envoy at the duke''s party, much less the cond''s. Despite the fact that each of the dukes was arguably as powerful as the king, or perhaps because of it, there were certain sensitivities when a foreign kingdom sent an envoy. If not careful, either the duchy''s or the envoy''s kingdom could have a diplomatic crisis on their hands.


    "The envoy from Klisstoss. He is just as they describe them."


    "From Klisstoss? Here? Really?" Klisstoss was close with the Duke of Hartun and the King, there is no way they would send an envoy to a celebration being held at the Elafoz''s palace for the duke of Efeles.


    At least, it seemed very unlikely to me. But I had no reason to think Pricel was lying, he would know that too.


    I was curious. I had read much of the Klisimians but never seen them before.


    "He was all warty and had teeth like knives," Delthimay whispered, speaking for the first time.


    As well as not being nobles by virtue of their lineage, girls were also very rarely seen outside until their debuts. The same could be said of boys, if they were from the upper nobility, but there was less fuss about a boy''s appearance.


    Delthimay was likely only here today since this was, at least in name, a household celebration of a birthday.


    By all rights I should have found all this very new. And, to a certain extent I did, still wondering at the uncomfortable clothes of everyone around us. But Sam had been to parties and cocktails before, with much more fun and happy people at that. I just wanted to avoid the land mines tonight though I was somewhat intrigued by this Klisimian.


    "Come, let me show you," Pricel said and waved at us to follow.


    Just as he turned around, he bumped into another boy.


    "Look, if it isn''t Pricel Phrans," the boy he ran into said smilingly, putting his hand on Pricel''s shoulder.


    I didn''t recognise him. He was taller than Pricel, though perhaps the same age.


    It was clear at a glance, however, that Pricel was not glad to see him. Something about his smile also gave me an impression of petty hostility.


    "Geran," Pricel bit his lips after he greeted him.


    But Pricel''s greeting evidently wasn''t satisfactory to the other boy, as his smile turned to a scowl, "Lord Clous to you, merchant."


    I knew of the name Clous. He must be the son of Viscount Clous. Perhaps I shouldn''t be too surprised. Clous had been one of those nobles who had been first to turn tail and drop father when they heard grandfather was mad at him 15 years ago.


    Then the Geran''s face transformed into the picture of brotherly concern.


    "Oh goodness, is that a stain on your little sister''s dress," his attentions turned to Delthimay, who had been looking anxiously at her brother''s treatment. I stepped in front of him, brow pulled into a frown. It was one thing to accost Pricel, quite another to paw at his sister in the middle of a gathering of peers.


    "And who is this, yet another Phrans?"


    "You''ll have to excuse us, Lord Clous," I said cordially, emphasizing his title. I didn''t deign to give him my name. "we were just going to see-


    "You are speaking to Lord Tilvrade Efeles," Pricel interrupted me somewhat vehemently, emphasizing my grandfather''s family name with a certain satisfaction.


    "How cute, a Phrans family get together. Even the loser''s son is here!"


    I felt my chest clench, both from a sudden flare of anger at Pricel and chill from Geran''s insult.


    I almost reached out and slapped him right there, but Geran Clous turned towards Pricel and I took a step back to reevaluate what was going on.


    "Don''t talk to me like that again, are we clear?"


    Pricel was on the tips of his toes as Geran tugged on his collar. There was a small clatter as the broach of a three petalled teal flower snapped off Pricel''s coat and to the ground.


    I looked around, somewhat shocked that this mere viscount''s son could get away with such an attitude. Calling Pricel''s nobility into question was one thing, but calling my father, son of the duke holding this party was a loser was a breach of any normal propriety.


    If I could just catch someone''s eye, they would notice Geran was physically abusing an viscount''s son and stop this nonsense.


    I looked around the courtyard where men and women were making their way from group to group to greet each other with ceremonious bows and hidden smiles.


    Only a handful of them even glanced towards us, and never long enough for me to catch their attention.


    Something was very wrong.


    I couldn''t see familiar faces anywhere. Why had Pricel and his sister been here?


    I bent down to pick up the broach, but before I could give it back to Pricel his sister, Delthimay was speaking tremulously to the bully.


    "Put my brother down."


    "Eh? What was that?" Clous said, leering at the 11 year old girl. "You want to take your brother''s place in my arms?"


    It was like that night so many years ago.


    Nistan strapped a gag over Pricel''s tongue in the forest and all Pricel could do was whine piteously.


    He had shouted, hoping that a maid or a baby would do something to help him.


    Now it was his sister instead, put right under Geran''s attentions because of his weakness.


    "Do it Geran!"


    The only ones who did seem to pay attention to us were three other boys, two of them dressed in colourful short coats split into tails behind them and one who looked a bit older, in black. One of them had shouted to goad Clous while another smirked at me as he saw me looking around the crowd.


    It was as if these children were playing out the dramas between their elitist parents on their behalf.


    That''s what it was, I suddenly realised. From each of those boys, Geran included, there was an invisible string that seemed to stretch into the faceless ring of nobles who watched from around us without looking.


    It wasn''t Geran caressing Delthimay''s turned chin that I was facing. There was a deeper game, my real opponent only showing his pawns.


    I suddenly felt very glad Geran turned away before I lashed out at him a moment ago. He was not attacking me directly, but might if I gave him the opening... Sure, these nobles around us were on his side, but there were too many for them to be a solid clique and support him without an excuse.


    "Don''t you dare touch my sister. Geran, don''t."


    Pricel struggled pitifully, not realising his fear and indignation just encouraged Geran.


    I changed my mind about Pricel. I couldn''t relate to him at all.


    We had gone through the same helpless trauma so many years ago. How could he be so vulnerable even now?


    Every other day, it seemed, I still remembered my powerlessness, only saved by sheer luck as one of our kidnappers transformed into a monster.


    But Pricel just cowered and feared, hoping others would face his demons for him.


    If I was right, and this was a play acted vicariously by older nobles through their children, then Geran would respect certain boundaries. There would be no bloodshed, nothing that couldn''t be denied later to grandfather and Viscount Phrans.


    I looked around the nearby faces again. One woman in a puffy dress flinched as my eyes travelled past her. They definitely weren''t all comfortable with Geran''s aggression.


    If only I could push him a bit further, beyond the line. But I''m sure Geran knew the rules.


    My thumbs and knuckles rubbed against each other in front of my chest, a nervous twitch of Sam''s.


    There was only so much I could do.


    I took Delthimay''s hand and looked up at Pricel.


    "Cousin, it seems you and Lord Clous have much to talk about, I am afraid Delthimay and I will excuse ourselves as we have not yet greeted the Cond."


    A flash of panic went through Pricel''s eyes, to my further disappointment. Shouldn''t he be relieved that I was saving his sister from any more of this?


    "Lord Clous," I bowed to the boy still holding him by the collar.


    Geran squinted at me, then licked his upper lip slowly as his eyes shifted to the side.


    He didn''t do anything, so I turned away, dragging Pricel''s sobbing sister behind me.


    I kept walking, trying not to go too fast.


    My heard rate sped up, and I just hoped he wouldn''t dash all my assumptions.


    Then the three boys appeared in front of me. I had seen them just a moment ago. What were they going to do?

 Chapter 36: familiar names

    "Lord Tilvrade," the leader of the three boys spoke, looking down at me. He was twice my height and dressed in a black coat. An unusual colour among the gathered nobles here.


    I looked at him warily, wondering what would happen now.


    I flinched as he grabbed me by the shoulders. It was ridiculous how big he was compared to me. We were only maybe 6 or 7 years apart, if he was just a bit older than Pricel, but his hands seemed bigger than my arms as he leaned forward to whisper into my ear.


    "Careful. You have little idea who you face."


    Of course I didn''t know who he was. I had never seen him before. Was he a royal to speak of himself like that?


    He warned me to be careful, so the moment he removed his hands, I braced myself for his impending attack.


    But the boy just stepped aside, clearing a way for me to escape.


    It dawned on me that he didn''t mean to be careful about himself. He was not talking about himself at all. He was warning me of someone else that I faced. The parent or faction behind Geran, then.


    I didn''t fail to note the faltering smiles on the faces of the boys behind him. They looked to Geran who was now watching this boy in black and me.


    I was lucky there was a way out for me, as I had hoped, but not all was as it seemed.


    I didn''t have time to think further, as I took the grace he left me.


    Just as I thought it was over, Geran''s voice came from behind. "You might get away this time, but it won''t be long before I see you again."


    I walked past the noble woman who had flinched from my gaze earlier.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "I hate you!" Delthimay shouted at me with her hand still against the carriage she was leaning on to catch her breath. "Didn''t you see what he was doing to my brother?"


    I still felt blood pounding through my head from the adrenaline. I had just abandoned Pricel to Geran and the other boys there.


    "You just left him there." She cried out, "we just left him there..." she repeated a bit more weakly.


    "Yes, we did."


    They had really just let us leave, both the boys and the gathered nobles.


    I felt like laughing. I felt like crying. Could I have maybe saved Pricel too?


    In the heat of the moment, I remember being frustrated with him. I saw a reflection in him of a weaker self that I could have been.


    But when I saw my own escape, I took it. And that was no better. I was just a coward.


    It was so weird, how Clous was right there behind Pricel when he turned around. It was too coincidental how it had all happened right after I arrived. It was creepy how all the familiar faces had been absent from that side of the yard.


    Someone had been sending me a message. No, not me, my parents. What 7 year old wouldn''t go crying to their mother and father after they had been shown a cousin humiliated in front of them in the middle of a gathering that should be safe?


    I don''t think they would have expected me to flee.


    I had simply walked over to the carriages in the courtyard, dragging Dilthimay behind me.


    "Why did I follow you? What''s going to happen to my brother?" Dilthimay wouldn''t stop whining.


    I looked up at the seat of the carriage we were hiding behind. An old servant was looking down at us curiously. We had probably interrupted his long wait for his lord and lady inside.


    Judging by the crest on the carriage, his lord must be Viscount Kridley. Count Nile''s man.


    "They''re not going to hurt him again, are they? Why wasn''t anyone doing anything?"


    "Shh, Dilthimay, listen to me. Everything''s going to be alright. They can''t hurt your brother right there. It would cause too much of a commotion."


    They were trying to make a point, make me and my parents feel vulnerable.


    I hadn''t expected them to do it like that, or to me. But if they were just showing me they could hurt my relatives, then it meant they were still not confident enough to harm me directly, my father being who he was.


    Of course, the whole reason for this charade was that they still thought my father posed a threat to them.


    Pricel and his sister on the other hand...


    Viscount Clous didn''t have anything to fear from Phrans. The Phrans were out of favour with the duke and Clous probably thought any damage to my mother''s family would only help my uncle''s claim.


    "We need to go back, we can''t let them do anything to brother..."


    "Even if we''re enemies, we are still part of the same faction, at a gathering to celebrate the duke. They won''t hurt Pricel. They can''t." Seriously at any rate, I added mentally.


    It felt awkward having to calm down a girl twice my height and 3 years my elder.


    Who knows, maybe Pricel really would be fine. Instead of a beating, he might be let off easy once the nobles around them realise I left.


    "Tell me though, Dilthimay, why were you there? Didn''t you notice all your parents and relatives had left that area?"


    This was what I needed to know. There must have been someone or something that brought them there, a clue about who was pulling the strings.


    I already knew it was someone related to my uncle. Viscount Clous had become his supporter when he turned on father.


    "What? We were just there because Sambron...." Dilthimay trailed off, looking up at me in surprise. "Where did Sambron go?"


    "Sambron who?" I prodded gently. I did not know that name.


    "Sambron Bairv, he''s brother''s friend. We had come in just behind his family''s carriage earlier and then we saw the envoy together, and then he said we should talk in the corner of the field, and then you came."


    "Bairv?" I asked incredulously.


    I saw her puzzled face turn into shock as she realised my train of thought.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "No, Sambron isn''t like that!" she protested to me.


    I didn''t even care what she said at this point.


    They were set up by a Bairv? And she''s still trying to defend him?


    I hoped Geran gave Pricel what he deserved.


    "Dilthimay, have you caught your breath now? You should find your mother and father. Maybe they can help Pricel," I suggested with a wide smile.


    I didn''t want to deal with her or think of Pricel anymore right now.


    "Yes, father will help brother," she seemed to think that was more pressing than her protests and looked across the gathered groups of nobles.


    "Just don''t blame Sambron, okay?" She added as she scurried away. I wonder if she had fallen for this Sambron Bairv.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Once Delthimay left, I walked back into the crowd. A few men or women would pause to greet me but didn''t delay me too long as I moved towards the trees.


    The whole group of guests seemed to have started moving in the same direction.


    "Tilly?" I heard my mother''s voice and turned towards her. "Lady vis Kridley told me you were over here. Is everything alright?" She asked in some concern.


    The lady with her had a somewhat stern face. She must have been Lord Kridley''s wife. I wonder if the coachman I had seen earlier had somehow sent her a message.


    I opened my mouth to tell her about what happened but then I heard a whisper not to tell.


    "... of course mother, I just went to greet Pricel. He seemed excited to see his friends."


    Sam''s voice wasn''t new. I had first heard him back when Nayen and his father were under attack in the woods. He talked to me only in short phrases, at sporadic times. He would give a short word of advice for me to try to understand.


    It did make some kind of sense to keep it a secret from my parents.


    The Bairvs or uncle''s men, whoever it was who was pulling the strings behind Geran wouldn''t be interested in me. I had never met them and they wouldn''t know anything about me other than my name.


    That means it was my parents they wanted to taunt.


    My father was as straight as his sword. He was not a man of shady dealings or subtle manipulations. If he knew that there were bullies after me, he would go confront them. If he knew that someone was targeting the Phranses, he would jump to their aid.


    That was probably exactly what they wanted.


    I needed to make my own way out of this. I didn''t want father to be in a tough spot.


    I saw Brendal peek out from behind mother''s dress. ''Did you get in trouble?'' he mouthed at me. I rolled my eyes at him in response.


    Mother looked quizzically at Lady vis Kridley beside her who shrugged at her in response. Did I miss something they said between them?


    "Everything is all right. Good." Mother said, almost to herself as much as me. "Your grandfather is about to speak. Come here with me."


    Mother and Lady vis Kridley walked back through the now excited chatter of the gathering. It seemed everyone was going towards the palace, where grandfather was waiting in front of the railing of the dais atop the stairs. He had one hand in the air to command everyone''s attention.


    "Good evening counts and lord, friends and family." My grandfather said sonorously. He was a master of pomp and posing.


    "Today, we all gather for the celebrations of my son-in-law''s birthday." He reached his arm around the shoulders of the young man, Count Yse who was beside him. "Congratulations Verbon. This past year, I have seen much in you and your efforts in managing the County of Valeford. I am expecting much of you both as a count and a son."


    "Duke, you do me a great honour." Count Yse said solemnly, Marian smiling proudly beside him.


    I liked Aunt Marian and Uncle Yse. They were young, kind to me and my parents and as daughter of the duke''s second wife, Marian was not interested in the succession like my other uncle.


    I felt sick though as I saw Grandfather just using them to flaunt himself, celebrating himself through the Cond''s birthday. Mother and father could hardly talk about anything else this past week.


    "Thank you father," Lady Marian said, showing her deference and gratitude to the duke.


    Her bright smile at the middle aged lady who had put a gloved hand on her shoulder didn''t seem faked though. Did she not know that the duke was just taking advantage of her to show he was the real one in power here, presiding over all of us?


    The woman behind her smiled back and exchanged a nod with the duke. She looked a lot like Marian. They could even be sisters, but I hadn''t heard of father having any other siblings.


    It was difficult thinking of them as family though. They all stood so far away, up on the dais over the evening gathering. They were dressed in silks and sparkling gems and lived in palaces like this one, casting shadows across the capital of Farand.


    "Congratulations Lord Yse, Marian. But let us not forget that today-" another man on the dais stepped forward and puffed out his chest only to be interrupted by an older man.


    "Brother," he said, addressing grandfather, "Before we move onto your own 50th year, let me present a gift to Count Yse."


    I felt mother''s hand on my head, absentmindedly smoothing out my hair. I looked up and saw her frowning as the man spoke.


    "... present to you the mine of..."


    "Aaawawah," I was startled by the sudden loud yawn of Brendal beside me.


    Fortunately, he wasn''t loud enough to disrupt too much of the gathering, but I completely lost track of what the stern, salt and pepper haired man was saying.


    "Don''t make too much noise, it''s embarrassing," I poked him in the side.


    "Ow. Don''t poke me. Can''t help yaw...."


    An eruption of clapping fortunately drowned out Brendal''s further whining.


    "As my uncle Dastan said," the man who was interrupted said as soon as the applause died down. "you are now 50 years the duke." He was talking not to the crowd like the others, but to grandfather. He seemed almost pandering as he made a bow.


    Then he waved over a nearby footman who was holding a tray of glasses. "Here, a toast! To Duke Feles!"


    I looked back at my brother who looked about to yawn again.


    "Just be quiet a bit longer, then I''ll tell mother we want to go home and sleep. I''m don''t want to be here either."


    "What? Nooo! I''m staying, you can go home!" He shouted at me and mother turned around to shush the both of us.


    "What are you two doing? Can''t you see your uncle Stegan is speaking?"


    Oh, so that sycophant who was trying to make a big deal of his congratulations for grandfather was father''s younger brother. It was this man and the woman beside him who had been behind all the problems, kidnapping and assassination attempts on me.


    Even though I had heard of their names many times before when my parents thought I wasn''t listening, this was the first time I actually saw them.


    I didn''t hear the rest of mother''s scolding as I burned their faces into my mind.


    "To my father, Duke Feles, my sister and her husband, Count Yse, and the prosperity of the Efeles duchy!" The man raised a glass of bubbling wine into the air.


    Father didn''t talk much of his childhood but I couldn''t understand why grandfather still had his second son marry the sister of the woman who cursed mother.


    The rift between my parents and the rest of my family was only bridged when I was born. Bridged by the need to protect me from them as father relied on grandfather''s mercy to hold the rest of these vultures at bay.


    If that was Stegan though, then the stern man who had interrupted him before must be Viscount Dastan Feles got Soubourg, grandfather''s younger brother and the other contender for inheriting the duchy.


    He looked more like father than grandfather did, a handsome and diligent version of grandfather.


    "Tilvrade? Are you listening?" Mother whispered at me.


    It seems mother''s admonition had the desired effect on Brendal, as he was just now quiet and sullen, on the other side of her dress.


    "Quickly, pass around the drinks, don''t keep our family and guests waiting." Stegan was telling the footmen who were still waiting around respectfully. He seemed clumsy, but perhaps that was because he tried to come across as harmless and charming instead of the ruthless conspirator he was.


    Mother continued, "don''t make so much noise like that again when others are speaking."


    So unfair.


    It was Brendal who was making noise, not me. I had just told him to shut up so why did mother scold me?


    "Sorry..." I mumbled.


    "Don''t apologise if you don''t mean it." Mother continued. Wasn''t she talking over Stegan herself? How was what I did any different?


    "But it was Brendal who-"


    "Tilvrade..." Mother just cut me off. Why did I even try...


    "I won''t do it again, mother."


    She turned back to look at the speakers.


    I looked around for father, I thought maybe he would say a word at least for his sister and the duke, but he was standing at the bottom of the stairs staring into his glass of wine.


    "Stegan, Dastan," grandfather said. "Thank you for your words and well wishes and also let us all thank our host tonight." He paused and then turned to a middle aged man I did not recognise. "Prince Grairin, the Elafoz and Duke of Ginishilla. You have been like a brother to me, providing your palace and grounds and hospitality."


    "Hahaha, I need another glass, and my brother does too," The Elafoz laughed in reply. Unlike the others, he didn''t seem interested in posing and speeching. "To the duke''s 50th year!"


    Far from displeased, grandfather seemed to relish the prince''s rough words and love of alcohol.


    The two old men hugged most disgustingly as my attention was distracted by a flute of wine held in front of me.


    "Young master," the waiter said submissively. There was something strange about his posture and downcast eyes, but my eyes were locked on the wine.


    "Ah, yes, thank you." I took the stem glass in hand. Then, as he moved on in his round, I stared at the icon painted on his cheek so intently that I didn''t notice mother''s hand until the wine had been plucked out of my hand.


    "I think not. When you are older Tilvrade. At least he didn''t give one to your brother."


    Aww, that sucks. I was excited to drink alcohol, it was popular in Lucia as well, though prohibited until the age to be drafted.


    Then mother gave the glass to one of the servers who drank a sip from it and handed it back to her.


    "Come Tilly," mother motioned me to her side with the hand that wasn''t holding the glass, "even if you don''t have a glass, you should join me and Lady Kridley in a toast to your uncle Yse and aunt Marian."

 Chapter 37: the Klisimian

    The hall was a place of chaos, some milling about grandfather, Count Yse or even Viscount Dastan and Uncle Stegan and others heading to the dance floor or the tables to sit and chat or listen to the minstrels play. All the while footmen, holding trays of beverages or sometimes empty glasses, weaved through them quickly, unnoticed.


    There were so many people in this hall, all ladies and lords, the elite of just one of theduchy of Farand. Of course, the maids and footmen added to the crowd, and there were possibly some other friends of Count Yse or Duke Feles from the capital, like the Elafoz who hosted the event, but it was still an impressive gauge of the power of a duke.


    When we had just filed into the room, mother and the other ladies she was with all joined the small court surrounding Count Yse and his wife. The women with us were mainly ladies of the fiefs near our own in Lord Yse''s Valeford county, so the congratulations and greetings with Count Yse and Lady Marian were friendly and smooth.


    Mother then excused herself to take Brendal along to the back of the room, following a maid who guided her at her call. Many of the other children from the courtyard were also being led there, ushered into a separate room. It seemed that the Elafoz''s servants were well prepared for all the children that would be here today, giving them another army of maids and footmen in simple apparel to serve them treats and break up fights between them.


    Thankfully, I was spared all that. Many my age from simple fiefs were already working as pages. Some of them could even be seen in this very room, running messages or standing seriously beside their masters, so I was in that odd age group that was no longer considered a toddler and not yet a man.


    That meant, I could essentially do as I wanted.


    With mother''s blessing, I left her as she went to find father at the tables. Instead, I found the ensconced staircase that took me up to the balcony. It was hard to escape the crowd of people anywhere, even on the balcony, but at least here it was less likely to be approached by unwanted attention.


    I sat on the cold floor, leaning my back against one of the pillars between the railing overlooking the hall.


    I still felt quite shaken.


    I had smiled and bowed to all of mother''s acquaintances, trying to pretend nothing at all had happened with Pricel and Clous before. The truth, however, was that the past hour, I had been imagining puppet strings and hidden meanings behind everyone''s smiles and greetings.


    Only now could I finally take a deep breath. It was calming here, seemingly floating over a cloud of noise from clinking glasses and the babbling of hundreds, light peeking over the balcony floor.


    I was afraid of what this morning meant for father as well as for the fief. For decades, the remote village of Olwick in Farand''s North-East was only under the steward there. Grandfather tacitly allowed father to flee to those lands when he left the capital with mother.


    I never really paid it much mind. After all, father was loved by the villagers and we didn''t bother other nobles, but that was only until today, when Sam planted a whisper in my mind. I couldn''t depend on father for everything, I couldn''t even trust him with everything that happened to me.


    It reminded me of when I was younger, unable to share with him the troubles of my nightmares. Just now, I was unable to share the troubles of bullying.


    It all seemed to get worse after Sir Barker died. There was still something I felt was very strange about what happened, how he and Viscount Phrans were both killed by bandits last summer when they had set out on the first leg of the journey with the trading company Viscount Phrans funded to go to Klistoss.


    That lord of Ibbergreen had not returned to Olwick since father sorted out the problem with the peddler, but father had been forced to go there when we found out he and the new dues'' collector had been stealing from Olwick''s tribute.


    Our hold was precarious in Olwick, particularly as Brendal and I grew older. Father was too high profile and it seemed one of grandfather''s successors was already working hard to remove him from the fief.


    It was this precisely this type of intrigue that I wanted to avoid or ignore.


    I brought out my thirty-second, the reason I had come here to the balcony. Thirty-second just referred to the number of times the vellum was folded or cut, creating the tiny little book in my hands.


    This particular volume was a kind of religious text. It had chants of the Church of the Sun, the main order in Farand. The monks were religious people, they lived outside of normal society, secluded to contemplate and purify themselves. Most of us in Gristol had little to do with religion or the monasteries, which suited the monasteries just fine, as they were almost little kingdoms themselves.


    I had some interest in the Church ever since reading of the monk and the demon in the collection of fairy tales long ago.


    There was a similar organisation in Lucia, from what Sam remembered, the acolytes of the land and the sky. They were once one of the most powerful organisation in Nura, the continent where Lucia was. But after the Treaty of Azar, the veils of mystery were removed from magic, showing that there was reason and method to the wonders we knew. Even the acolytes lost much of their fervour in preaching about morals and evils, calamities of the past and future.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Society was even a step further, espousing ideals of reason and experimentation instead of the superstitions of the past. Then, in Sam''s lifetime, Dr. Istle''s discovered the postulated mana sources in Zalaam. That was the final nail in the coffin for superstition in Lucia.


    The Church of the Sun was similarly filled with superstitious nonsense. They spoke of the sun and the black sun, an eternal struggle between good and evil. The monk had intrigued me, a part of Farand that I knew nothing else about, but the reason I was only reading this thirty-second now was because I had never made the time before.


    A cult that considered all magic evil and was warning kings to watch out for demons and ban all mages from practising rituals and spells seemed dangerous, an enemy perhaps, but not something I could learn much from.


    Unfortunately, most books here were big and heavy things I placed on my davenport back home. This was my only thirty-second, small enough that mother allowed me to bring here.


    However, as I opened the book and started reading their chants and psalms, I quickly lost track of the party and guests around me.


    They were curious, almost hinting at meanings I felt were important. It wasn''t that there was something particularly unique about the chant I started with. It had just been another plea to be pious, talking about how the taint was in each one of us. According to it, man had once lived in the light of the golden sun, until hubris and greed had opened our world to the black sun and his demons. Each of us now lives in a balance between the darkness and the light and we must not stray into temptation else the stigma and the demons will take over us.


    I was suddenly startled, by the head of a reptile hovering by the column behind me.


    "You ssit here and rea-id, insstead of joining the celebray-tionss," he said to me, glancing at the book over my shoulder. But then he recoiled and turned away with some disappointment after seeing the text I was reading, "oh, a devou-te, I shall not dissturb."


    He had a round torso, making him look almost flabby, something he evidently was not, considering the strong muscles in his inhumanly short but large arms and legs. His powerful looking thighs jutted forward, making him seem to be squatting even before he lifted his leg to turn around.


    "No, sir," I hurriedly said, getting up, "I am no worshipper. It is just that this prayer book was the only one small enough from my shelf that I could bring here easily with its small size."


    I looked at him in awe. Hoping he would still talk to me.


    This was the envoy from Klistoss that Pricel had spoken about. A Klisimian, one of the lizardmen that I had heard much about. He was very different from what I expected. Not only his body, but his eyes were black and small, almost faded into his dark brown scales and instead of a eusuchian snout, his was round and small, almost serpentine.


    "You undersstand I don''t approuve," he spoke slowly and kept on hissing every ''s''. He also emphasized the last vowel in every phrase, pausing at the end of his sentences.


    "No, sir. I''m afraid I don''t know much about the church of the sun, nor the Klisimians either."


    "Well. You are you-ng," He said, "Lissen. My ancesstoresz were from the ssouth, much like you Farandiansz. We yussdu have many great tribesz and templesz to the sspirits of our peoplesz in the warmer landsz."


    It was a story I had come across before in one of the chronicles. The Klisimians were like lizards or snakes, cold-blooded. They were powerful and smart, but hampered by extreme temperatures, both cold and hot. If it weren''t for Keiran''s expansion right after the kingdom was established, the Klisimians would never have left the bogs and marshes they called home.


    "The klisimiansz and the humansz were not enemiesz, and even today, we try and are grateful for the protection of your kin-ng. But they," he pointed at the book I was reading, "they claimed we were demonsz, a corruption of your humankind. They burned my ancesstoresz on stakesz, the same tribesz that had lived and traded with them until that tai-m."


    "I didn''t know..." I responded lamely.


    I fidgeted as I realised just what reading that book must have meant to this man of a different race in front of me. Not only a Klisimian, but an ambassador of a country and peoples, but he graciously took the time to explain the divide between humans and klisimians instead of just spurning me and feeling offended that I would be reading the scriptures of those who were prejudiced against them.


    I saluted, trying to show respect, but quickly put my hand down, realising that that was a stray habit from Sam''s military training.


    "I am Tilvrade Feles, a subject of Farand. Keiran is my enemy too. I will not tolerate violence either to our kingdom or yours and thank you for your warning about the Church of the Sun."


    "Hsss"


    I froze as I saw a forked tongue flicker out through his lips for a split second.


    Was I too over the top? I wondered.


    "Hsszsszss."


    "He''s just laughing, boy, no need to be so scared," a gruff voice of a man spoke out behind me. "Lord envoy, sorry for having you here on parade just to keep you waiting afterwards."


    "No worriesz, prinsz." The Klisimian responded, "I even made a new frien-nd." He gestured towards me.


    I felt my whole body stiffen and back straighten as the Elafoz put his hand on my shoulder. "Look at that, his excellency seems to like you."


    The prince was not only a powerful man but also the centre of dissent with the king. With that power and reputation came attention, and with that attention came plots, politics and misunderstandings.


    "Now, run along boy," the Elafoz told me, "there are things I need to discuss in private with my guest."


    It was a bit late now, but I was still in front of royalty. If I didn''t show proper ceremony, my mother would scold me terribly. I got down on one knee, "Tilvrade Feles greets Your Royal Highness."


    "Hm? Feles?"


    The Elafoz looked at me more closely.


    Maybe I should have just hoped for his forgiveness on accounts of feigned ignorance.


    "You are related to Bickley?" He spoke of my grandfather by his given name.


    "My grandfather, Your Highness."


    "Ah, you''re that one, I see." It seems he had some impression of me. "Very well, you may leave us now."


    I rose and bowed, but did not open my mouth again, fearing I would stumble once more.


    I kept my eyes forward, not daring to look back or at the gazes that fell on me.


    I hoped that this chance meeting would either be a boon or forgotten in the thick of the celebrations at this event. But it was a coin flipped that had not yet come down, and I feared I would lose that flip, and experience father''s ire.

 Chapter 38: a taste of amber

    "... bullying my Pricel."


    Shit. Of course Pricel and Delthimay''s mother had to come to rat out to mother everything that happened earlier.


    I was surprised to see that Bera vis Lord Phrans was dressed in the simple style of dress that Lady Marian had said was the Keiranian style. The Phranses were not included in any of the circles of the contending successors, so it was odd for her to have known to wear that.


    "Oh look, there he is," she alerted mother to my return.


    "Lady vis Phrans, cousin, Miss Dilthimay, mother," I greeted the four of them.


    "Tilly, good, you came to join us for dinner." Mother said with a pat on my head. That hadn''t actually been my intention when I was disrupted in my reading and then dismissed, but it was good timing. The army of servers seemed to have just started filtering through the tables, bringing platters and bowls to the guests. Many of them had that same icon painted on their cheeks as the one from before. It looked like a rune, but without any tethers. "Did you know about what happened to Pricel? Bera was just telling me the Clous boy was threatening him and Dilthimay."


    "Actually, Tilly-"


    "Cousin," I interrupted Pricel who had begun to say unnecessary things. "It looks like you were able to stand up to them. That''s really impressive!"


    He didn''t look all that worse for wear. Clous and the other boys don''t seem to have actually done anything to him in the end, other than give him a few shoves and threatening words.


    If I play up to his ego then maybe he''ll let this go. It''s not as if anything happened in the end. Fortunately, I saw him blink a couple times and his scowl softened into a puzzled frown, probably trying to figure out if I was serious or mocking him.


    But Dilthimay wasn''t appeased so easily, "you liar! You abandoned broth-"


    I winced as Dilthimay ruined my plan but then I was saved just in time by father who returned with a couple.


    "My wife, Cianna and son, Tilvrade," father interrupted the girl, "Lady Bera, I apologize, did I interrupt?"


    "No, not at all," she said, giving a look at Dilthimay who seemed to be insistent on saying something, "we were just about to go to our own table. It was wonderful to meet young Tilvrade."


    "Dilthimay," I turned to the girl to whisper as our parents made their greetings and farewells, "I don''t know why you think I would lie to you. It''s like I said, right? Your brother is stronger than you think and got out of there alright. You don''t need to worry so much, right Pricel?"


    I didn''t exactly say that back then, but I did tell her something about Pricel going to be fine. I looked at Pricel hoping he would help me out.


    "Uh, right, yes, I told them what for."


    Dilthimay''s face was sprouting question marks as she looked between us, but Pricel took the grace I offered him on account of his pride as an older brother. I hoped it was enough to sway Dilthimay.


    "Look, I want to help too," I told her, "but there''s something odd going on. It''s more than just Geran. Let''s talk about it again sometime."


    I should try to meet with them. They could help me figure out how to deal with them.


    Fortunately, Lady Phrans excused herself and the three of them left to their own table. Seating for the dinner was all arranged by our hosts, it seemed.


    This was a very unusual event, being a combination of a cond''s informal family party and a gathering of all theduchy''s aristocrats. Some of it, like bringing children and arranging a room for the younger ones to play was something only done in small family gatherings, but then there was a level of formality that was like a court ball around the dinner.


    We and the three other couples who were seated at our table sat down, and I was between mother and another lady, the one father walked to the table with but who I didn''t recognise. There was only one other boy, more Pricel''s age than mine. He sat opposite me, but seemed as little interested in me as I was in him.


    My parents and the others didn''t make any introductions, since, I suppose, they all knew one another, but it was most inconvenient for me.


    I stayed quiet and just followed the conversation, eagerly accepting the dishes of food that the servants placed in front of us.


    There were whole legs of roasted lamb, savoury puddings and a long grilled white fish, maybe from the port of Labrine, not far West of the capital.


    "So you are Tilvrade?"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I turned around to the lady who was speaking to me. I nodded quietly in response.


    I didn''t really want to talk to her. I didn''t know: was she talking to me to find out my family''s weaknesses? Was she judging me for my participation at the tables instead of being in the children''s gathering or standing around the hall as a page?


    "I have heard from your mother that you are a great swordsman. Your father must be proud of you."


    I looked up.


    "Well, I have great teachers... My brother is quickly getting better too. It''s not just me."


    Maybe she was just trying to be nice after all? And mother told her about me, so she must be a friend of my parents. Still, better to be humble. Should I have mentioned my brother though...? I felt a bit bad talking about him to someone neither of us knew.


    I turned towards mother, hoping that maybe she would join the conversation.


    "Oh? Your brother as well? I''m sure you will both be noble knights one day." the lady continued. Mother seemed to be whispering something to father, her head turned the other way. "My daughter, Sedrina is your age. Maybe I could introduce you to her after dinner."


    Eh? Maybe she was some lesser noble hunting for a son-in-law from the Feles family. That seemed even worse than her other possible intentions.


    "I would be enchanted," I responded dully then leaned forward to draw my knife across the lamb.


    She tried a few more times throughout the meal to engage me in conversation. I think I handled myself fine, smiling politely and making platitudes in response.


    The meal was partly ruined by the stomachache from my nerves, or perhaps from trying to look proper and noble as I sat with my back straight and head held proudly.


    I would have asked to be excused and go read my book again. It''s not that I lied to the Klisimian envoy before. I didn''t doubt his words about the Church of the Sun, seeing as Sam had passed on his contempt for superstitions to me. I certainly didn''t have any intention of following their faith. Still, I wanted to continue reading the texts that seemed to hint at explanations for some of my existential worries.


    But since I accepted the treatment of an adult at the dinner table, it would be awkward and embarrassing to leave, so I would have to save my reading for when we got back home.


    The adults around me slowly moved from foods to drinks and then a servant was beside me holding up a bottle of a sweet wine for me to see.


    I nodded, excited to have a sip and he started pouring me a glass.


    I hesitated a moment when he made to give it to me. I had seen a few times now how the servers would drink of the wine or eat the food themselves to prove its purity in front of the guests. I wouldn''t have taken notice of it so much if not for Sam, but it was an odd custom to a Lucian, and one I immediately appreciated. I had heard before of the poisons that the lords of the capital used against each other. But at a large banquet like this, it seems the hosts demonstrated the purity of the food and wine.


    "Won''t you-?" I was going to ask if he would take a sip first, and hesitated to accept the glass...


    Splish clinkinkink


    The glass fell over and rolled on the tiled ground.


    "Please forgive me, my lord. I was careless and spilled your glass," the server got down on his hands and knees and apologised for dropping the glass.


    My eyes swam a bit as I wondered if he had just tried to kill me or if I was being paranoid.


    "What is this mess?" Mother had looked over and was telling off the man. "You will go and tell someone to clean this up immediately." Mother hadn''t looked over until the glass had fallen to the ground, so she probably hadn''t noticed how he had not sipped of it before handing it to me.


    The server left and mother turned on me.


    "Tilvrade, I told you already that you weren''t to drink any spirits," mother then turned on me, "they are a bad influence on your soul."


    I looked up at mother. A bad influence on my soul? She hadn''t said that part before.


    "Please excuse me for a moment," mother then got up and left the table before I could tell her about what happened.


    "Oh?" The lady beside me raised her own glass, filled with the same amber liquid that was now a puddle on the floor. "That''s a shame. There are no ambers better than the Osbecs''."


    I nodded sadly, already missing my chance at having a sip.


    "Would you like to try it still?" She asked. I looked up, and back at the puddle on the ground. I did want to try it, but I was terrified it might be poisoned. The lady put it to her own lips though, perhaps sensing my hesitation and had a sip of the wine before giving me another chance.


    I felt both guilty and pleased as I put the rim to my mouth.


    To be honest, it was bitter and stronger than Sam''s memories thought it would be, but as I savoured itthe heat and sweetness grew on me. It tasted fiery, but smooth as well, sweet and sour, both as thick as oil and thin as water at the same time.


    "I am afraid I don''t know about Osbecs," I admitted, hoping to learn more.


    "Oh?" She accepted the glass back and winked at me conspiratorially, making me lean in a bit closer to listen. "Osbec is not a wine, but a place, a desert to the south-west of Keiran. It is also the name of the river that flows through it to the sea, the banks a lush paradise that produce wines like these."


    I imagined the far off places of the south and the sea. I had never seen the sea, and neither had Sam, but that didn''t mean I couldn''t imagine the great Helioscan caravels that brought trade and soldiers between the kingdoms of Nura and the colonies of Zalaam. I wondered if Osbec was like Heliosca, a city of trade and merchants selling these wines across the seas.


    "But the other thing Osbec is known for is its army of bones beneath the sands," the woman continued, in a little more than a whisper, "They say that there are thousands and thousands of skeletons of the king''s ancient foes all waiting to fight for him should Keiran ever try to conquer."


    It was not the same then, a kingdom like Farand and not a republic like Heliosca, but whether it was real or not, I was held by each word of her story, thoughts of skeleton animation confusing and awing my mind.


    "The fork too, actually," she pointed at the thin skewer like fork with two prongs I was about to put in my mouth with a cube of rabbit terrine wrapped in a javali bacon, one of the smaller cousins of the lesser behemoths of the north. "Hard to think of now, but there weren''t any forks in Farand or Keiran just two centuries ago and it took a long time to become accepted in Farand after Keiran. Even my grandmother refused to use one all her life, thinking it was barbaric and morbid to skewer bites of food instead of just eating properly with a knife and hand."


    "No way," I told her. Wasn''t her grandmother a noble? Would people have been eating with their hands at a feast like this just a couple decades ago?


    "No way?" The woman asked me and held a hand in front of her mouth perhaps to daintily hide a smile. "I never heard that before."


    Even now, there were times I would use an expression from Sam and draw a questioning gaze.

 Chapter 39: the end of an evening

    "It''s Phienna," the woman told me, all of a sudden.


    "Sorry, where is Phienna?"


    "Not where, my name." She said, "Phienna vis Viscount Dauyle."


    "Ah, I''m sorry. Tilvrade Feles," I responded and nodded my head. I thought she was just a lord''s wife, but she was wife of a viscount?


    Mother returned to her seat just as the servers came to take some of the dishes away. She gave me a look as if I had done something bad.


    "Do you have something you want to tell me?" She whispered low enough not to be heard by the others around us. My eyes shifted around a bit as my thumbs and knuckles rubbed against each nervously. Was she mad that I snuck a sip of the amber? Or did she hear about Clous? Or... "I just overheard someone say you had introduced yourself to the Elafoz."


    Or that.


    "It wasn''t really like that..." I said, thinking of what more to say, "the Klisimian envoy saw what I was reading and then-"


    "What? Ahum," Phienna had turned to us when mother exclaimed a bit louder, perhaps wondering what caused the question, "please don''t mind us, Lady Dauyle, my son was just telling me about this accident with the wine."


    She then looked back at me, "you showed that book to his excellency?"


    "No, it''s not like that, he didn''t get mad or anything. He just told me how Klisimians and the Church were not on the best of terms and-"


    "Enough," mother interrupted, "as long as he wasn''t offended. There are enough issues for your father already without your grandfather thinking we ruined this bizarre new alliance with Klistoss. Let me talk with your father."


    I cringed, why didn''t I follow Brendal to the children''s banquet in the back?


    "Your mother just told me you were talking with the envoy and the Elafoz. What did you say?" Father leaned over mother a bit to ask.


    "He just went to meet the envoy and I was there and I had to say something. All I did was kneel and introduce myself and then leave."


    What else was I supposed to do? I had never been told what to do when meeting the crown prince.


    It wasn''t as if I didn''t know that my father saw grandfather''s ties with the Elafoz as foolish and risky. The Elafoz was next in line to become the king, and being his ally would be a boon and a safeguard when that came to pass. But the king was not dead yet, nor were the Elafoz''s rivals and enemies. If it was risky for grandfather who had the authority to fend for himself, then it was idiotic for the son of a disgraced lord.


    I had hoped that with the relative emptiness of the balcony, no one would have paid attention to that brief encounter, but if mother had already heard about that meeting, then I had a sinking feeling that there was no one of importance, either in theduchy of Efeles or the royal court who wouldn''t know my name by tomorrow morning.


    For better or for worse, my parents were now in a hushed conversation of their own. I hoped that that meant I was out of trouble, but knew it was only delayed until we were back at home.


    There was another server who came and dropped a large bowl of a crimson red conserve in the middle of the table, scooping a bit of it onto a spoon which he ate with a walnut and crispy golden wafer from a wicker basket.


    Although these were just brought to the table there were people starting to get up and walk around the hall. There didn''t seem to be any particular order to the evening or announcement, but groups of smiling nobles started to cluster and one of them had surrounded our table.


    It was like a dense pressure and heat pushing on the back of my head with the occasional knock or excuse me as someone backed up into my chair, but I tried to keep my head down and eat the final dessert without any further commotion.


    "That one is from the South too, conserve of pomodoro," Lady Phienna said, still sitting beside me.


    The crimson jam had a familiar taste that was at the tip of my tongue. It was sweet but very thick and fruity.


    The name [pomodoro] meant nothing to me though, in the language of Lucia or what I had come across here. Maybe because it was a conserve, the taste was obscured just enough that I had trouble remembering what it could be.


    "The Elafoz has a bit of a sweet tooth, you know," she said, "until now, he has always had a taste for the South, but I hear there might be new trade with the Klisimians."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Mmh, that''s why Sir Barker went to-" I looked sideways at her.


    "... when he becomes king, Lord Feles!" a man was rumbling happily to my father.


    "Hear, hear, it is only right Lord Feles inherits..."


    Lady Phienna had been trying to impress me all night and talk of her daughter. I thought she was just being kind or a friend of my parents'', but she was now bringing up the exact same topic of the Elafoz and the envoy that had mother and father so bothered.


    Seeing that I wasn''t going to continue speaking, she broke the silence.


    "Ah, yes. Quite a tragedy what happened to the old knight and Viscount Phrans, for them to be assailed by bandits like that right in Bridgewater."


    A dark spot grew on the white tablecloth where a tear had dripped off my cheek. Sir Barker''s death was hard on me. Even though he was old, it had been unexpected. He had been fit and hale and gone off for a couple months last summer to help Viscount Phrans train some of his knights.


    It shouldn''t have been dangerous, but he had been killed in a bandit attack on the Viscount''s carriage when they went out to the village.


    Still, I didn''t want to cry. It had only been a couple sips, but maybe it was the Osbec amber from before that made me so sad.


    It looked like Lady Phienna was going to talk again but father placed his hand on my shoulder and I noticed that the nobles around us had cleared a space around him and mother.


    "We should get going. It''s a late night already for you and your brother."


    I looked around but the room didn''t seem any less crowded than before. Father must be trying to make an escape.


    "Lord Feles, I do hope we can see you again in Fulbrian. It has been far too long since you last came."


    A portly middle aged gentleman with a moustache said to father as I stood up, putting the last bite of the pomodoro conserve in my mouth.


    "It has been a long time indeed, Viscount Dauyle," father responded. This must be Lady Phienna''s husband who I hadn''t really talked to as he was sitting to father''s left. Father responded positively, but Viscount Dauyle grimaced and looked away from us for some reason.


    And then mother took my hand and we followed father away from the dining tables to the shadows between the torches on the walls, shielded from the larger chandeliers by the overhanging balcony.


    "Let us get Brendal and then leave," father said. "This is really quite a mess. They are all trying to find out what I know about Klistoss and if I''m back in favour with my father."


    We made our way to the back of hall where a woman was standing outside double doors.


    "Please bring our son Brendal here. We are preparing to leave."


    I was alarmed as I saw Brendal crying as the woman brought him back to us.


    "What happened? Are you alright?" Not me, but my mother asked him.


    I looked across the hall of children, many of whose eyes were turned towards us as the door shut. There were some boys who were running around and in another corner some girls who looked to be quite a bit older sitting around a tea table. They looked to be not Brendal''s age but quite a bit older.


    "I don''t wanna leave..." Brendal whined, "Igdrian was just showing us his magic artefact. It can-"


    "Let''s go," father cut him off. As soon as my parents realised Brendal hadn''t met any harm or bullying they decided it was time to get going.


    I took a deep breath of the night air as I stepped out behind my parents, but just before we went down the stairs, a familiar voice called out,


    "Sivis and your boy, come bid me farewell."


    It was grandfather standing not far away inside the doors.


    I had seen him before stepping outside. As usual, he was surrounded by his vassals and the families of his wannabe heirs, eager to leave a last word before they went back home.


    We weren''t to greet grandfather. That was made quite clear by father before.


    It seems that he had previously tried and been quite categorically ignored. Grandfather still sullen over history long past, and father not particularly trying to find other ways to mend that rift.


    But then why would grandfather speak out now, in front of all these guests?


    I looked at the carriages lined up in the distance wistfully. I just wanted to get home now.


    I didn''t move though, as father had just stopped where he was on the stairs. He was taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, preparing for whatever it was we were wanted for.


    "Tilvrade," he turned around and walked by me.


    I wriggled my hand that mother was clenching a bit too hard.


    "Just follow your father and do what he does, alright?" My mother told me. I was about to say yes, but our voices sounded so loud, the nearby buzz from the party going silent around us.


    I just nodded and then scrambled a bit to catch up to father on my shorter legs. Then, I almost bumped into him as he came to a sudden stop inside the door.


    "Duke Feles, we humbly thank your grace for the invitation and offer congratulations and well wishes for your continued health and office."


    I copied father''s bow as we stood, still a few meters from the duke.


    "Ah, yes. There he is, handsome boy." The duke said, not even acknowledging father''s bow. "Come here." His bony finger beckoned me forward.


    I looked at him, and at father who was still bent at the waist, and back at the duke who looked at me with eyes of flint.


    It was harder than I thought to take those few steps away from father, my shoes clacking against the marble floor much more loudly than I thought they would. I took a deep breath, realising I was standing here now, for better or for worse at the centre of attention.


    Grandfather looked at me, up and down and I looked back at his eyes with a confidence I did not feel.


    "Duke Feles," I made up for nerves with strength behind my voice, "this one is Tilvrade Feles, son of Sivis Feles. Please accept our congratulations and well wishes for your continued health and office."


    I heard a gasp from who I now knew was Lady Miladona and a murmur of voices. I don''t know why... I just introduced myself and tried to say something similar to father like mother told me to.


    But grandfather watched with interest.


    After a moment of awkwardly standing there, I decided to continue, "If you did not have anything to say, we would be grateful if you gave us our leave," I pressed him, perhaps the tension or the remaining amber in my head had enough with all of this family. I just wanted to go home.


    I felt father''s hand touch my back and some of the warmth in my cheeks evaporated.


    But grandfather made a thin smile.


    "I expect to see you on Thursday. It seems we might have some things to talk about after all."

 Chapter 40: a note

    The morning after Cond Yse''s birthday celebration, I found myself staring at a slip of paper that I found on the floor where I had taken off my coat. It must have slipped out of a pocket or sleeve.


    On it, there was a scribbled sentence, inviting me to meet someone:


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>need help or names? come to the rookery ask for black rat</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    The snout of the envoy flashed through my mind. I still didn''t understand why there was a Klisimian envoy speaking with the Elafoz. The Elafoz wasn''t supposed to have any ties with Klistoss. In fact, the past few years, the Elafoz had been opposing the king precisely about trade, trying to remove the restrictions on merchants from Keiran and the South who competed with our lizardmen neighbours.


    Mother had taught me that it was precisely because of its monopoly on trade with Klistoss that the Duke of Hartun, who had the smallest duchy in Farand was able to continue holding so much wealth and power. It was just too difficult to get past the duchy that controlled the fiefs bordering the forests and lakes to the West.


    I did find it strange how the envoy had greeted me even though I was just reading by the balcony.


    Did he want to leave me a message? Look for some kind of ally in Gristol?


    I felt a lot of sympathy for the lizardmen after his story yesterday. He looked honest and powerful and his people still treated us well even after the Keiranians had persecuted and chased them from their swamps.


    Thump


    I turned around to see the boy who threw open the door.


    "Hey, Tilly, guess what, guess what?"


    "What is it, little brother?"


    Sometimes Brendal could be a pain in the ass, but seeing him so excited wasn''t such a bad thing.


    "Guess who I met yesterday."


    "Hmm, who you met yesterday," I pretended to think hard about his question. I remembered Brendal was basically dozing off in Ivian''s lap in the carriage returning home. Father had been quietly angry, meaning all we heard was the trotting of the horses'' hooves and the creaking of the wooden frame for what seemed like hours.


    Brendal definitely seems to have regained his cheer after a night''s sleep though.


    I saw Ivian come in and lean against the door, smiling affectionately at the two of us.


    "Oh!" I slapped my palm with my fist in realisation, "I know. You''re so excited because you met a girl. Am I right?"


    "Hey, it''s not that." He complained but I saw him hesitate just a little bit.


    "Really? She wasn''t a girl?"


    "Well, yeah, but that''s not why it''s important."


    "Okay, so tell me then, what happened yesterday?"


    "The princess!" Brendal seemed to think jumping up and down was the way to brag, "It was the real princess, right there with us at dinner."


    "The princess? You mean Malory?" That was one of the Elafoz''s daughters. I leered at my brother incredulously, "I think we''ll have to talk to father about this. You and the princess, that''s not going to work."


    Technically she wasn''t a princess, not until her father ascended the throne. I probably really would have to talk to father, just to make sure Brendal wouldn''t call her a princess outside the house. Grandfather was quite close with the Elafoz recently, so it''s possible some of the Efeles aristocrats were trying to suck up to him by speaking as if the Elafoz had already become king.


    "What? No, not like that." my brother frowned. Why was it that I thought my brother was cutest when he was pouting? But I shouldn''t take it too far, "I didn''t even really talk to her, we just said our names."


    I tousled his hair with my left hand, like father did mine after a practice bout, "I''m just kidding, Brendal. That''s cool, really." I almost felt like telling him that I met the real prince and a Klisimian, but thought better of it. It was bad enough already that I did...


    "Yeah! I''ll see you outside!"


    He ran off, excited again, and eager to go join father in the yard. Ivian winked at me as she closed the door behind them.


    I yawned as I opened my right hand, the note a bit crumpled up from hiding it.


    "I thought there was something you were hiding."


    Simila''s voice startled me. When did she enter the room?


    "What is it you have there that you''re so nervous about?"


    I sighed, not really having much choice but to tell her.


    "It was in my pocket last night. I''m not sure what it means though," I handed her the crumpled piece of paper. "I think it''s the envoy from Klistoss. He came to talk to me while I was reading on the balcony before dinner. He looked like a snake!"


    "Oh? The envoy did?" Simila looked genuinely surprised. That''s good, I had been wondering just how far she took the whole shadowing thing. "Hmm."


    "That''s why grandfather put us on the spot," I said glumly, "the Elafoz came to talk to the envoy, but since he was talking to me, I ended up getting in a mess."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Simila nodded, but I wasn''t sure if she was listening to me or just reading the note.


    "It says to go to The Rookery. That''s a tavern down near South Gate. Are you sure it''s from this envoy?"


    I shrugged. How could I be sure?


    I didn''t actually know anything about the district around South Gate, except that it was not the best part of town. I had always lived near East Gate, and gone once or twice to Lookout or Westhill up near the palace. I had never even been to lower town, though father promised we would see that cursewright someday.


    But why would the envoy, or anyone who was invited to the Elafoz''s palace want to meet in South Gate?


    "It must have been. No one else I talked with could have put a note in my coat without me noticing." Was there anyone else who came right up to me? Lady Phienna could have, maybe, while we were eating...


    "That''s weird." Simila said, but she gave the note back to me. "Do you want to go see?"


    "Go to The Rookery, you mean? But it says to go alone..."


    My curiosity warred with my caution.


    As Simila had just pointed out, I didn''t even know for sure if it was the envoy who gave me that note. I could be walking right into a trap from one of the bad guys who wanted to be the next duke. It wasn''t all that long ago that mother''s father and Sir Barker were both killed themselves by bandits in the woods. Well, officially at least, I didn''t believe that Sir Barker and a viscount could really be bested by some ragtag bunch of bandits like it was said.


    And even if I did decide it was worth the risk, how could Simila just take me there?


    "My mother wouldn''t let me go. Maybe I can send someone?"


    But I was intrigued. The envoy was really mysterious and no one I talked to seemed to know why he was showing up at grandfather and the Elafoz''s event. He seemed more like a warrior than a politician when I talked to him. It was hard to think he would be trying to threaten me.


    I just realised I never got his name. Maybe mother or father would know.


    "I''m curious too now." Simila said, "It has been a long time since I was at The Rookery. I don''t think anything bad will happen, even if it is a bit of a shady part of South Gate. We can keep it a secret from your mother. What do you think?"


    "But it said to go alone."


    "You will be, just a young noble, out alone with his maid."


    I finally understood what she was saying. No one would think Simila was more than just a maid. And if she was wanted to go so much...


    "Okay! Let''s do it then! We''ll go meet the Klisimian envoy."


    I trusted Simila. She had saved my life more than once before. I know Nistan was Pricel''s shadow like Simila is mine before he went rogue, but Simila isn''t like him. She''s a bit apathetic, but she''s mine.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    I made up my mind to go, but that didn''t mean I could throw away the rest of my routine.


    I trained outside with father and Saul and then went back in to clean up and read a bit before my parents were ready for lunch.


    "Are you ready for tomorrow, Tilvrade?" Father asked from the head of the dining table.


    "Sorry, what''s that?" I asked. I was having trouble thinking about anything except how to tell father that I was going out with Simila after we finished eating.


    Tomorrow was Thursday, that''s when I usually practised flute with mother. She had started teaching me when I asked about it.


    "Oh, right. I''ve practised, though I''m still having trouble with the trill."


    Father never asked about my lessons.


    "The trill? No, not that. How could you forget? After all that commotion you caused yesterday."


    "Ah. No, of course I didn''t forget." Not the flute. Grandfather summoned us on Thursday. I wasn''t looking forward to that.


    "Don''t make the same mistakes you made yesterday, alright?" Father started lecturing, as if he was any role model in handling grandfather.


    How was I supposed to know I should ignore my father when he was right beside me, or that I couldn''t introduce myself with my full name when speaking to this one person in particular? I had no clue he was going to call us like that when we were trying to leave.


    "Feles is his family name. Just use your given name. And don''t mention me if he deliberately ignores me. He''s a stubborn old fool, but I much rather have him ignore us than openly disfavour us. And don''t accept anything if he offers it. We just need to show the my brother and uncle we''re not a threat, and the succession will pass us by."


    I nodded as he talked, trying to look like I agreed.


    It felt weird to me though. How could he think the succession was passing us by? Every time I saw Ivian or Simila I was reminded of Nistan, of the shaman, of Sir Barker dying, of the nobles bullying Pricel and I or spurning or rushing back to surround father like yesterday.


    Wasn''t it only because of grandfather''s support that I now had Simila with me? If he was going to help us out, then I wasn''t going to turn it down blindly.


    "And please, answer your grandfather truthfully and do as he says. I probably won''t be able to stay with you, so you have to be on your best behaviour. Alright?"


    "Yes, father," I said but realised this might be my chance. "Father, Simila said this morning that I might need a new pair of dress shoes. The ones I wore last night got a scuff on them."


    "On your shoes?" Father asked, drawn along in the new direction of the conversation. "Is that right?" He turned around to ask Simila who was standing at the edge of the room.


    "Yes, my lord. We could ask the cobbler here, but since Tilvrade will need a pair of shoes for tomorrow, it might be quicker for me to bring Tilvrade to lower town."


    Simila was so natural, I almost wondered if she had lied to me before.


    "Right. Of course. He can''t have a scuffed pair of shoes tomorrow," my father said, "I''ll trouble you with my son this afternoon then. Tilvrade, you aren''t going there to play, so do as Simila says."


    "Yes, father." I quickly said, hoping to end that part of the conversation. I saw mother looking confused, which meant she might know I didn''t have any problem with my shoes.


    After finishing the meal, I quickly went upstairs and tried to calm my pounding heart.


    I had never lied to father quite so blatantly before, but it was unexpectedly exciting. My racing heart felt almost a bit like when Cinder made a jump over a fallen tree. It was almost a a week since I went to take Cinder out of the stables. Ben should be letting him out into the pen to graze, but I should still probably go take him for a ride tomorrow before we go see grandfather.


    "Are you ready?" Simila asked me. She was still dressed in her maid''s clothing, hair tied into a bun. But I could see she was wearing leather boots now, instead of the slippers she wore in the house.


    "Just let me get my coat on," I said, and put on the dark blue tailcoat, buttoning it up along the side. I wanted to look proper, since I might be meeting with the envoy, so I also took my sword. I had never actually used it, except in some morning forms to get used to its heft. It was fully functional, with a leather wrapped pommel and a sharp if short and thin blade for stabbing if not slashing. It was mainly decorative, a part of my outdoor costume.


    Simila walked ahead of me as we went to the sunny living room where mother was practising the flute.


    "My lady, Tilvrade and I will be heading to lower town now. Please expect us back by dinner."


    A note that didn''t fit with the others cut off mother''s playing as she turned to see us away.


    "Tilvrade, let me see those shoes," she said, so I walked up to her and showed her the scratched shoe. "And this was from last night?" She asked, "Tell me again what happened?"


    I hesitated. Simila had just ruined them with a knife in her room this morning as I was distracted, talking with Brendal.


    I averted my eyes from mother''s as I thought quickly, "It was-" The first thing that came to mind was Clous, but I couldn''t talk about that, "outside. I was playing with Dilthimay and tripped on one of the carriages. It was Lord Kridley''s carriage."


    I even added some details as Sam whispered them to me. He knew a lot better what to say to be convincing.


    "You tripped on the carriage?" Mother repeated. "Well, you do need new shoes. I will see you on your return. Don''t cause your maid too much trouble, alright?"


    "I won''t. See you soon, mother," I said hastily and then went with Simila down to the door.

 Chapter 41: The Rookery

    Seventhill wasn''t within the walls of the city, so we first had to get through East Gate, which was actually quite easy, since the guards didn''t see the need to stop most people walking through, especially a well dressed boy with a maid.


    The road inside the gate was quite broad and the houses around seemed clean. We weren''t in Lookout, the eastern of the two upper class districts near the royal palace, but you could see that we were not that far off.


    Instead of walking north into Lookout though, Simila brought me into lower town.


    I was impressed with some of the places we passed. Most of the places on the main street were three or four story townhouses, stuck together in a row. they were white and brown, sometimes with awnings or porches in front of the main floors to welcome in customers to whatever business they ran.


    Many of them put displays outside, either dresses on stands or shelves with plates or knives. There were others that were more closed, with a wooden door hiding a lawyer or doctor''s housing inside.


    We passed more than one cobbler before Simila did actually bring me inside one.


    Even though I didn''t really need new shoes, it would be odd if I didn''t have something to shoe when I returned.


    It was a fancy shop, one that had a window of glass. The inside was not large, but it had a number of shoes laid out on the shelves. The older man who came out of the door in the back didn''t wear a leather apron, but rather a coat, if just a plain brown one, without the silver ornamental lines like mine.


    He helped us find a pair of leather shoes that were already made and fit decently. We were in a hurry, so we didn''t ask to fit them anymore.


    We kept heading down towards the south, the road gently sloping away from the palace at the top of the city.


    There was one inn in particular that caught my eye, the windows looked bright and there was a man on horseback leading his horse around the back while a cheerful music came out the open door. There was more than one voice mixed into the tune. There was a sign out the front swinging back and forth with the image of a singing chef and the words Lard and Bard Inn.


    When we turned off the main road that led to the gate, we walked into a maze of alleyways so narrow they seemed to choke off the sunlight. The houses that already seemed bunched together in lower town began to overlap in strange ways, no longer individual townhouses but apartment-sized boxes of wood piled on top of each other to fill any remaining space.


    And where there weren''t houses, there were clothes lines, crisscrossing the gap above.


    It was a miracle this part of the city was still standing. I could imagine all too well what would happen if a fire broke out.


    I tried not to stare at the people.


    There were men with teeth as yellow as their sweat stained tops playing with dice or spitting on the ground as we passed. They all seemed to be chewing something, a rolled leaf that I saw a teenage girl trying to sell from a wooden bowl.


    But she wasn''t the only girl there. Some of the other ones were chewing whatever it was too. They had loose tops and sly smirks.


    "Hi boy," one of them stood up from a chair in the alley and spoke, "Don''t you want to try this putting your hand on me instead of that ugly maid?"


    I was transfixed as she unbuttoned the top of her cleavage, revealing a valley and curves. Transfixed in horror that is. How could a girl just a few years older than Pricel with pretty eyes and proportions have yellowed and rotting teeth?


    Simila''s dress appeared in front of my eyes and I felt ashamed that I didn''t say anything when the woman had called her ugly. As she moved to the side, a tug on my arm made me realise I had clenched my hand around a handful of her skirt at some point, subconsciously.


    I consciously myself let go, though I still huddled close beside Simila, who I looked up at sheepishly. She wasn''t looking at me though. She looked solemn or pensive as she kept an eye on the people around us.


    I heard The Rookery before I saw it.


    There was the clinking of mugs and din of too many conversations that reminded me of the noise in the party for Count Yse yesterday. It was odd though. We had passed a number of pubs and taverns when we entered through East Gate and then again in lower town, but although some of them had song or some din, none of them seemed as crowded or alive as this place in the middle of the day. Here, there weren''t just a few drinkers or loiterers and servers mopping up the floor or tables but a full house of raucous laughter and conversation in the dark inside.


    Two men stepped out of a narrow doorway, tottering as they went their own way. Above the doorway was a wooden board with the words "The Rookery" half erased on it by rain and time. It was simple, but perhaps anything fancier would have been mockery, for the inside was an ugly sight.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    It was dark, even during the middle of the afternoon, smoke from tallow candles that were the only source of light.


    Simila caught my arm when I almost slipped and fell on the layer of grime in front of the entrance. It wasn''t just at the entrance though. The whole floor of The Rookery, not only was made of wooden boards that creaked under us, but was strewn with rushes and mud with bits of food and spills of ale. Judging by how the rushes and mud seemed to be thickest by the entry, I suspect it had little to do with any intentional flooring.


    I looked around the tables at the men who were sitting there, most of them only giving me a moment''s stare as we entered. Fortunately, even though we surely looked out of place, I was obviously not the first noble in a coat to walk into this place. They all quickly looked back at their games or midday pints.


    I had trouble understanding how these men could all squint at the cards and dice on the tables by the light of the candles on the tables and torches on the walls. It was bright daylight outside. Perhaps I wasn''t one to talk though, considering the amount of time I spent reading by the window at home.


    "Hello, my lord, are you looking for someone?" One of the waitresses did come to greet us. She didn''t ask us if we wanted a table, knowing we weren''t her usual customers.


    I sidled up a bit closer to Simila, but since she didn''t say anything for me I had to respond.


    "Where is the black rat?"


    "Ah. You came to the right place. He should be out back. Follow me, please."


    I looked up at Simila. But she just gestured for me to walk ahead of her.


    Nothing seemed to surprise her, whether it was the alleyways before or the shoddy tavern now.


    I stepped out of the noisy room and into a narrow hallway as I followed the waitress. The sounds of the tavern were muffled behind the door, but there was another din here, of shouting men.


    I could smell some kind of food behind the first door we passed, but it was unclear what it was. It seemed to be less popular than the mugs of ale though. There were two men who grinned at the waitress rolling another barrel past us towards the tavern.


    "They are making a soup back there. They would throw in anything and just boil it down. Not something you''d like much," Simila explained to me. She seemed to know this place or at least others like it.


    ''Out back'', as the waitress called it, referred to a whole other alleyway that we came out into behind the kitchen. It was identical to the other side and just as crowded.


    "Giacoob! I''ve brought two guests for you," the waitress shouted upwards, into the alleyway, probably meant for one of the rooms behind the shutters.


    The one clear difference in this alley was the children my age.


    Three girls stopped not far away and were looking at me and the waitress expectantly. At least two thirds of the people here seemed to be girls.


    The oldest one reminded me a bit of Smiri this past summer. They both had their hair cropped short, like a boy, wore pants and had a kind of tomboyish look. Just that Smiri had a kind of feminine beauty that was different from this girl''s androgynous face.


    "Don''t stare too much, yeah? He''s just some rich brat come for a dealin'' with Giacob." A boy said to them, shooing them back to play.


    He then came up and bowed.


    "Name''s Kled," he told me smoothly, as if he didn''t just say I was a ''rich brat'' a moment before. "What''s yer name?"


    I had been distracted by all the new faces I didn''t expect to see behind the tavern, but I didn''t think this was a place I would find the Klisimian...


    "Uh..." I looked at Simila, planning to tell her that maybe we should go, but she had a rare smile on her face as she looked around the alleyway.


    "Where''re yer from? Lookout, Westhill?"


    I told myself it would be fine. Simila wouldn''t let anything happen to me.


    "Seventhill," I said and I saw the boy roll his eyes and relax a bit.


    "Oh, yer from Sevenvill. How ''bout I show yer'' round until the boss comes down?"


    I was almost a bit insulted that he''d say it like that. Sure, Seventhill was a place only minor nobles and well-to-do if not wealthy guild merchants lived, but who was he to sneer at me just because of where I was from.


    "Who are you, Kled? Why are there so many kids here?"


    "Ya mean ya came ''ere but dunno anyving? This ''ere''s The Rookery. Behind ya''s the tavern the old man''s runnin'', and back ''ere''s the orvanage."


    I guess there would be an orphanage somewhere. I just never really though about it before.


    "Are you all from South Gate?" There was no real name for the south part of the city. It was all just a part of South Gate, which included lower town, the gate itself and parts of the city outside the wall.


    Kled turned and stood beside me, pointing me at one of the three girls he had talked to before.


    "A lot of us. Lots of brovels around ''ere an'' soldiers comin'' and goin'' to the souv. Not all of us though. Ya''d be surprised. See Palama over ''ere?" He pointed at the oldest of the three girls I had noticed before. "She was daughter of a lord, like ya are bevore her pa got done in. Why''d ya'' vink they were lookin'' at ya, eh? I vought ya'' was one of us too until Jewcy called for Giacob."


    I was having a bit of trouble understanding some of what he said. It took an especially long time to realise ''juicy'' was what the waitress was called... Who in their right minds would call themselves Juicy?


    "She was a noble?" That was surprising. I would have thought cousins would have taken her in.


    "I ain''t vrom Gristol neiver. Pa was a soldier under Leslie. Ya aren''t wiv Leslie, are ya''?"


    "My father''s from Efeles."


    "Good. I don''t ''ave no problems wiv Efeles." He said, approving of me.


    "Don''t listen to a word he says, Lord Tilvrade."


    Or at least I thought, until the familiar face of Geran''s friend with the black coat from yesterday walked out into the alley.


    "Hey, Giacob," the boy called Kled complained as the older boy walked up to him putting his hand out in front of him.


    "Not this time, Bai. He''s not what you''re thinking."


    Kled, or Bai, I don''t even know now handed my sword over to Giacob and all I could do was stupidly feel for its pommel in the sheath on my belt where it should have been a moment before.


    "That''s my..."


    "Lord Tilvrade," Giacob handed the sword back to me, then continued after nodding apologetically at Simila who was watching them with amusement. "I have a feeling you would have gotten your sword back anyway though."


    I was shocked. It wasn''t the envoy who had left me the note, but this boy.


    I didn''t know whether to be scared or intrigued. This boy I met yesterday was no lord, but an orphan, or at least a patron of this orphanage. I felt grateful that he returned my sword, but also shocked that whoever that was stole it without me even noticing him undo the straps.


    What did he want, to invite me all the way here?

 Chapter 42: Black Rat

    I was feeling disappointed that I wasn''t meeting the lizardman and now this. What if Simila hadn''t come with me? Would Giacob have felt the need to tell me the sword was stolen before I left?


    "Simila, maybe we should leave..." I tugged on her dress.


    I wasn''t so sure of what was going on right now. I had come here to a scary part of this city because of the note and because Simila offered, but the note wasn''t from the Klisimian envoy at all, but this bully. The first thing that happened when I got here was that some boy lied to me then stole my sword.


    "Hey, wow," Giacob held his hands up as if I was being unreasonable, "I didn''t tell you to bring something so valuable. This is The Rookery, Lord Tilvrade. You stand out far too much dressed in that coat surrounded by most of the thieves and orphans of the city."


    I blushed a bit as he pointed out the obvious.


    Didn''t your maid know of this place? She should have told you. A whisper from Sam cautioned me. You are here because of her but why did she tell you to come here?


    I looked up at her with a new doubt in my mind.


    It was Simila who had told me The Rookery was in South Gate and she seemed a bit different ever since we came here. She looked more casual, more human and emotional and maybe a bit sad than she usually did.


    She started at my gaze, which was also very odd. Simila never looked surprised, always a step ahead of anyone else when it came to knowing who or what was around her.


    "Sorry Tilly, I was distracted and forgot. I brought a cloak for you in case it was... something like this."


    Simila took out a black bundle and whipped it in the air before putting it around my shoulders. It was a rough and a bit stained, but still a simple and elegant cloak.


    I had been suspicious for a moment, but I realised as she hesitated mid-sentence that she had not realised this wasn''t about the envoy either.


    "In any case, I''m glad you made it. I wasn''t sure you would come."


    I looked up at the boy half again as tall as me who had waited before speaking again as I donned the cloak.


    I didn''t respond that I wouldn''t have come, if I had known it wasn''t the envoy, so I looked for a change of subject.


    "Uh.. Your name is Giacob?" I asked his name.


    "How rude of me. Yes, my name is Giacob. I was an orphan as well, but unlike little Bairun or Palama, I am actually from the Leslie duchy."


    "Are you a lord then?" He was at the Elafoz''s palace last night, so he must have some status.


    The boy smiled.


    "No, Lord Tilvrade, I am not. My father was a butler, that is part of the reason I was taught to speak and write," I was interested in his story, but that''s all he shared before turning half away and walking back to the building he came out of. "Enough about me though, come inside. You can ask any questions you want as we go upstairs."


    I stopped rubbing my knuckles together. It was a bad habit to show others when you were nervous.


    This Giacob seemed to be reasonable enough and had returned my sword and everything. Perhaps accidentally coming here wouldn''t be so bad.


    I looked at Simila when he walked forward. "Don''t worry, it''s fine here. It''s just an orphanage. I''ll be by your side."


    The inside of the building was dark, but Giacob had placed a candle in a holder on the floor at the door. He picked it up and we walked up the rickety stairs, past doors on the ground floor that must have been other rooms.


    "Sorry about this, all the rooms are a bit tight here, but they do for the children and tenants."


    I briefly wondered why they couldn''t have a better location. They even had a tavern out in the front. It looked quite full, so they must make some coin.


    Even if they didn''t though, did no one else in the city care about the orphans?


    "If you would come in here," Giacob said, opening a door on the second floor, "the cushions are a bit worn, but they''re still comfortable."


    I would definitely not have described the ripped and tattered cushions as ''a bit worn'', but I didn''t want to be impolite.


    Father once told me when we went to check on the harvest in Olwick, "It''s precisely when you don''t know what you''re doing that you need to act as if you do." It was a very different way of thinking than Sam had, maybe somewhat prideful and petty, but it was essential if I wanted to negotiate or mingle in society here.


    Though, as I remember it, I ended up giving myself a cut on the leg with the scythe when I pulled it through the sheaf of wheat. The wheat had given way and then the scythe came right at me. Father just said I would get worse surprises in combat and laughed it off.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    I decided I would try to ask the questions, I didn''t have mother or father with me and Simila wasn''t speaking up for me.


    "So why did you give me that note? Why were you at the palace yesterday?"


    "You''re not shy, are you," he smiled, looking at me like I was a small child. "I am an information dealer. I''d like to think one of the best in Gristol."


    Technically, I suppose I was a small child. I wasn''t anything like the kids here though, playing around in the alleyways.


    "I''m known as Black Rat in Gristol. If I wasn''t at an event like that, then how could I ply my trade?"


    He answered my question, and it made sense, but I felt frustrated that I must have used the wrong words. I didn''t want to know why he went. I wanted to know how he got in.


    But before I asked in a better way, he responded to my other question, "The note is an invitation. As I said, I didn''t even expect you to show up, but I''m glad what I quickly scribbled was enough for you to find me."


    The note had been brief, but it was clear.


    "You seemed unusually clever. I was impressed at how you simply walked away while protecting the girl." I felt my chest rise a bit at the praise, "I was also impressed that you just left your cousin there, uncaring of what would happen in Clous'' hands. It reminded me a bit of the children who grow up here in The Rookery. A certain mettle in you, an independent mind."


    The tingle in my chest fluttered a bit, unsure if I liked the continuation. He was not only comparing me to street children, but saying that others might have thought what I did was wrong.


    "Do you remember the two boys beside me yesterday?"


    I nodded, interested now in how this related to me.


    "They were the sons of Argenta vis Viscount Tram. She''s a friend of the Clouses."


    I didn''t really know why he was bringing up the boys.


    "You told me to be careful, that I didn''t know who I faced." I said, repeating what he told me. "You mean the person who made Clous bully Pricel, right?"


    "I was going to get there, Lord Tilvrade, please be patient. The reason I talked about Dom and Sach is that their family is one of Dastan''s supporters. I don''t know how familiar you are with Viscount Dastan Feles, but both he and Stegan have no love for your father."


    "Stegan and Dastan? They''re working together?" I was pretty concerned that both my uncle and great uncle would be working together to get at me and father.


    "Hmm," Giacob frowned and scratched his temple, "not exactly. Dastan and Stegan hate each other. They see each other as enemies even more than your father."


    That made more sense. Father wasn''t even really in the succession, "It''s just that neither of them like your father. Although their factions don''t usually mix, Argenta and Viscount Clous have been known to be... friends, since they were younger. There is one thing they can agree on publicly, and they are happy to demonstrate, which is their dislike of your mother''s family."


    I nodded, and thought of the name that Dilthimay told me about, Sambron Bairv, who brought us all there.


    "Where do the Bairvs fit into this?"


    "Count Bairv? He is Dastan''s main supporter."


    I felt a bit stupid that I didn''t know that...


    Giacob frowned but then went back to his previous train of thought.


    "Now, why I asked you to come here is so that I can make a proposal. I know Clous and Tram. They have both hired me before. That doesn''t mean I work for them though. What I care about is here, in The Rookery."


    He gestured around us.


    "You are different. You are young, intelligent and I don''t know what it is, but something in your past gave you perspective. It''s just a feeling in my gut, but I feel even more certain now that you come here with, well..." he looked towards Simila. I really had to ask her what she hadn''t told me, "If nothing else, you have everything to lose if you don''t have an ally. Once Stegan or Dastan become the next Duke, your father will be in a tricky spot. Then you might come back to The Rookery again for very different reasons."


    For all my dislike of grandfather, I had hoped for the first time that he stayed well and alive. He might not be a doting grandparent, but at least he acknowledged father''s independence in Olwick and protected us to some extent.


    If he really did pass on theduchy to Dastan or Stegan in the next few years, I certainly hope I wouldn''t become an orphan, but it''s possible father would lose our land and title. Would he bring us to Leslie to seek fortune in battle? Or would we rely on Count Yse and Lady Marian for their protection?


    I didn''t want to depend on anyone like that, and I didn''t want father to either.


    "Okay, that''s true."


    "So let''s make a deal, or rather, let me make an investment in you," Giacob said. "I''ll help give you information I get from the Clouses and Trams and whatever else they give me. In return, all I want you to do is come here every so often and meet some of the kids. Just don''t wear those fancy clothes and you should be able to get along. When the time comes that you inherit your father''s lands safely, The Rookery and I will look to your patronage to make these children''s lives a bit better. They''re all bright kids, Lord Tilvrade. maybe you''ll even take some of them into your household."


    I gulped. It sounded like a very good deal for me. Giacob was willing to help me know what father''s enemies were planning before they could carry it out for a hope that I would be able to help him and The Rookery when things were more stable in Efeles.


    It almost sounded too good. Was that really all that Giacob wanted?


    "Okay. So what''s next?" I cringed a bit after I said it. I should have probably said something cool like ''I agree to your conditions''... but it was a bit late now.


    Giacob was fortunately looking down at a chest he seemed to keep documents in. I had never considered the drawers in my davenport a luxury, but it was a world apart from the Black Rat''s study.


    "Here. Let this be the first token of our arrangement. This is a map of where some of Dastan and Stegan''s men often meet."


    He handed me a piece of vellum with a bunch of scribbles on it, or so I thought at first when I saw the drawings of a castle and gate towers and some insignia over sticking out in some spots around the castle or in lower town.


    The districts around the castle were probably Lookout and Westhill and then the green snake thing might have been the Tachys river curving around the west and north of the wall. I remembered one of the insignia in lower town that we passed just earlier today. It was the drawing of a singing chef from the Lard and Bard Inn.


    "You can do with it what you will."


    We shook hands and I gave the map to Simila. It was actually quite small, so it shouldn''t be too hard to carry back unnoticed.


    "I will be awaiting your visit next summer upon your return to Gristol."


    Giacob didn''t show us out, just opened the door of the room and handed us the candle to light our way down the rickety stairs.


    "Did your meeting with Giacob finish?"


    "Yes," I told the waitress who met us in the alleyway to bring us back through the tavern.


    We followed her across and down the muddy path to the back kitchen door.


    "... Kled, over here!"


    Just as I was about to step inside, my ear caught a name shouted far off down the alley. I looked down the street and saw the boy who had first met me and tried to take my sword running behind two of his friends.

 Chapter 43: Sir Jom Barker

    "Are those the same shoes from this morning?"


    Mother was waiting for us as we returned to Seventhill. She had an amused smile as she looked carefully at my old shoes that were not just scuffed but now also covered in grime.


    "Yes, but we got new shoes," I told her. "Simila helped me choose them!"


    Why was mother here, waiting for us?


    "Did she now?" Mother said looking over at Simila, the amusement disappearing from her expression, "she helped you choose them, and not have them made?"


    I thought I had gotten mother''s attention away from my shoes that were grimy from South Gate, but instead, her strange emphases told me I was just feeding the fire.


    "I mean have them made, yes. The cobbler had lots of uh, different types of shoes for..."


    I trailed off at mother''s gaze.


    "Tilly, put your new shoes on," she commanded.


    "He-" I started to ask but the answer was obvious.


    I sat down on a wooden chair and Simila brought over a small box so that I could put my foot on as she unlaced the dirty shoes.


    I had long stockings underneath that went up most of my calf but they were thin, for the summer. The new pair of shoes only fit very loosely. They were a light brown, rounded at the tip, overlayed with a hole filled pattern in the shape of a curved T.


    "Where did you go?" Mother interrupted as soon as the first shoe was tied.


    Simila stood and bowed, "My lady, we-"


    "I am not asking you Simila. I am asking my son."


    I wondered what kind of witchcraft mother used to find out what had happened. Simila said it would be fine if I just stuck to our story, but mother seemed to know.


    "I thought it was the envoy," I started saying, "there was a note from the party and then we went to see, and it was the orphanage."


    Mother just stared at me.


    "My lady," Simila tried to speak again. Her tone of voice had changed this time. She seemed somewhat dejected.


    "Where did you take my son, Simila?"


    "It is as he said, my lady," Simila spoke up for me. "There was nothing dangerous. I was with him as we went to the orphanage where he met Giacob, a boy from the Count''s celebration at the Elafoz''s palace. He thought the note he received was from the Klisimian envoy who he met there, a friend of your family''s?"


    "Why would you go to spirits know where because of a note? Don''t you realise you have put us in enough trouble as it is by embarrassing yourself in front of the envoy with that book last night? Why would he want to meet you? Did you think about what could have happened to you?"


    Mother had gotten really mad.


    "And what orphanage... do you mean that horrid place down in South Gate? What did they call it? Simila, how could you take my son there?"


    "My lady-"


    "No. Get out. I will talk with you later." Mother shouted when Simila was about to respond. "You are supposed to be Tilvrade''s shadow, to keep him safe, not take him into disgusting places like that."


    Simila bowed and left the room.


    "Tilly, Tilly..." she shook her head. "What am I to do with you?"


    She came up and now hugged me, scowl turned to loving embrace within a heartbeat.


    I hesitated to put my arms around her shoulders as she put her chin on mine.


    "I worry about you Tilly. You are too smart. Doing things without me knowing every time I look around," she sighed. "I should never have let you go out today. I thought it was strange, that you didn''t really need new shoes. They looked fine yesterday. But I thought you would just get a new pair and maybe look in the other shops in lower town for something related to your artwork, or whatever it is you are collecting those things for."


    I should have known mother had realised I was lying. She had frowned and hesitated when I brought it up at lunch and been waiting for us when we came back. She let me go with Simila because she didn''t realise the whole of it.


    "I''m sorry mother," I sobbed. The warmth of mother and her worry melted my own tension from the past couple days. I shouldn''t have gone to South Gate, even with Simila. When I realised it wasn''t what I thought, that the Black Rat was not the Klisimian, I was scared.


    It could have all so easily been a trap. Of course, I know Simila could have done something, but would it have been enough?


    "I know boys don''t want to share everything with their mothers, even if you are a bit young to be so secretive. Your father and I both promised not to treat you like our parents did us. But you can''t do this again, you hear me? You have to tell me."


    I nodded into mother''s neck. Why didn''t I tell her in the first place about Pricel and Geran?This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    It was thanks to Sam that I learned so many things, that I was more than just a child, but


    "There was a boy attacking Pricel," I told mother, "Geran Clous".


    I told her about Geran and about Sambron and what Giacob told me about the Trams. I also told her what I thought about how it was aimed at father.


    "And that boy in black was this Black Rat, you say?" Mother asked at the end.


    "Yes. Giacob from The Rookery. He gave me a map," I told mother, "Simila has it now. He said it was the places that the people who want father out of the way go."


    "Thank you Tilly. Just leave it to me and your father. We will make sure everything is all right."


    "And next year? Can I go see Giacob and the other kids at The Rookery again?"


    "Hmm," mother pat me on the head, "I just want you to be safe Tilly. We should talk about that again next year, okay?"


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    The next morning, Simila didn''t say very much. It was a bit awkward as she prepared my riding clothes and then helped me tie up the heavy boots downstairs.


    "I''ll go take Cinder out then. I shouldn''t be long." I said as I walked over to Saul who was in the kitchen.


    Simila nodded and let me go to Saul''s supervision.


    "Give us a couple sausages too," Saul was telling the chef who was putting together a small bundle for the horse''s satchel. The whole kitchen smelled good, from the oatmeals and sausages cooking on the heavy 2 meter metal stove for the breakfasts upstairs.


    "Can I have a bone?" I asked the chef who smiled and brought out a large sheep bone for me. I recognised it from the cured smell of the sheep ham that I had enjoyed with slices of fruit yesterday night, despite the grim and silent dinner.


    As I walked out the door to the yard, I had to duck under a couple of onion braids that were hanging right there. The onions were one of the first signs that the harvest season was beginning, one of the first crops to ripen. Of course, these ones came from a manor out in the country somewhere, but the chef preferred to get the braids early from the market in West Gate and dry them out himself.


    I looked at the bone as I walked behind Saul, remembering the story of Osbec that the lady, Phienna told me two days ago. Did the king there really have an army of skeletons? It would either have to be some elaborate ritual magic or a series of runes engraved on each one that keyed into a control device set up with a unique array.


    Ritual magic would have to be redone every time they needed them though and the synchronised runes would have been a huge undertaking even for Sam''s era, let alone what seemed to be the level of magic in Farand.


    A nuzzle between my legs alerted me to Fafi who came up to greet me.


    She was quite old now, rarely leaving the stables for too long. My heart always ached when I saw her here. It was already a full year since Sir Barker had died.


    I had spent a lot of time with Sir Barker and Fafi in the few years before he died. He didn''t only teach me to ride, but helped me with questions about alchemy, metal and wood work, which I had developed an interest in recently.


    Perhaps I would have also chosen to retire from knighthood in peaceful Olwick if I were Sir Barker''s age. It definitely seemed to suit him well, allowing him to focus on hobbies in woodwork and handicrafts. He did some of the chores, had a small house in father''s property and could spend time hunting with Fafi or carving as he pleased.


    Then, when he went off again for a month for a second summer, we received the sudden news of his death and mother''s father''s.


    I still remember mother breaking down in tears when we heard. We had gone shortly after to visit mother''s brother and their family who lived in a small residence in Westhill. It was only after that that I started to see Pricel and Dilthimay more regularly, mother saying she regretted that she had kept such a distance until so late.


    The funeral still hadn''t happened yet. It would be this fall, a detour to Bridgewater for us as we returned to Olwick.


    Fafi''s hair was somewhat stiff and matted, like the hairs on Cinder''s brush that I could see hanging off a nail behind her, but I scratched her behind the ears and gave her the sheep bone, which she wagged her tail over.


    It was a bit sad, to see her ageing and lonely, but I suppose there wasn''t really a better fate for a domestic animal than to live out their final years in peace and warmth. It was definitely a different life than the sheep and birds served on the dinner table.


    Saul returned, bringing his horse between the carriage I would ride this afternoon and the other stalls. The stablehand was following him with Cinder who was stomping on the ground, eager to be outside.


    I waved Fafi away and pat Cinder on his long nose.


    Even now, he didn''t like getting pat much on the snout, but since he always pushed his nose towards me when I saw him, I''ll just continue doing my best to say hi and show him I care.


    Cinder was still young, but Sir Barker had helped me over the years to learn how to ride on the pony and teach me and Cinder both how we would work together as a horse and rider pair. It was a bit abrupt when he died, considering he had never actually seen me ride Cinder for any distance. Even when I was 6, he would only let me up on him for short trots around the training yard.


    Saul decided it was time though, when I showed him the techniques Sir Barker taught me. I knew how to guide Cinder by the pressure under my feet and knees, to jump and kick and even respond to my calls.


    "Thanks Rinse," I told the stablehand who passed me the reigns, dyed red to match cinder''s mane.


    Cinder also thanked Rinse, leaning out to sniff at him.


    It was Rinse that took care of Cinder here in Seventhill, giving him hay and rubbing him down whether or not I had gone riding with him. On days like this, however, I would make sure to care for him myself.


    Sir Barker''s advice that you had to treat a horse like a squire always stuck with me. So I made sure to feed him and rub him down and pick his hooves after a good ride but also made it clear to him when I wanted something done.


    He was already saddled up right now, so I put my foot in the stirrup and kicked him with my heels, following Saul outside.


    I enjoyed the riding, it was wonderful to feel so high up on top of Cinder, to feel him change direction when I tugged the reins or veered with my knees. I just hoped I would be riding home this year instead of stuck in the never-ending bumping carriage home again this winter on the cobbled and mud roads.


    I saw Brendal as we passed by the training yard swinging his sword. We didn''t stop there to run around in the yard though. Saul led us around the path through the trees to the side of the mansion and down the road to the gate.


    We started riding through Seventhill, which was mostly just fences and trees from the road. We didn''t ride on the main road that went from West Gate all the way into the duchy, but on the roads that skirted the mansions here.


    There was only one carriage that passed us and one other rider as we made our way down the road. It would have been a lovely summer morning ride except for the ever-present smell of woodsmoke in this city.


    When we had gone some fair distance outside of Seventhill, Saul stopped ahead of me and then dismounted.


    "Do you think this is a good spot?" He asked, pointing to a rocky outcrop.


    "Sure."


    He took out two ropes, looped at the end, and we hobbled Cinder and Pony, Saul''s horse, given his name when Sir Barker picked him up from a field he was passing through to use as a packhorse years ago. Pony was a beautiful horse, fully trained as a destrier. The name was an irony, perhaps, that the only pony they had at hand to carry their satchels would be him.


    "Let''s first spar, and then we can eat." Saul said, throwing me one of the wooden blades. "If you think you''re going to fall, shout or slap your thigh so that I can help."


    I got into position at the bottom of the outcrop, facing Saul who had climbed to the top. It was important not to always train in the yard where the footing was flat. Real battles happened in the field or the forests where there were more things to pay attention to.

 Chapter 44: grandfathers summons

    I took a minute first to check my boots, look over the terrain and focus on my mana pool.


    Twice a week, I would ride with Saul and we would find some place to train. It wasn''t as serious as the sword bouts in the yard, but made you think of how you could use or get hindered by the terrain.


    "Come when you''re ready." Saul shouted and I lunged towards him, careful to run over on the rocky outcrop as I had determined beforehand.


    Saul was expecting me though. I didn''t really have much choice with this uphill slant and the uneven footing but to charge directly at him.


    My sword rebounded off his with a loud clang and I hopped backwards before Saul could counter attack.


    I almost tripped though, as my heel landed right between two edges, my ankle twisting a bit as I sturdied it with mana.


    That was another of the mana techniques father and Saul taught me this year. Instead of using the mana to strengthen the explosive force of muscles and tendons, it was a cushioning to protect from external force.


    Although Sam had passed on some of his mastery of mana circulation and condensation to me, he had not actually been familiar with any of the internal mana uses that made up father and Saul''s mana techniques.


    "Head, arm!" Saul called out where he would have hit me but his sword only whipped up and down right over those targets, not actually striking as I regained my footing. "Unlucky, but next time, you roll. Careful not to hit your head, but better practise now than find yourself without it in a battle."


    It was just a split second as I sturdied the foot and took a step back, but Saul took full advantage of that time.


    I grimaced and tried to massage my foot through the leather boot as I waited for him to call again.


    "Now, again."


    There were a few more exchanges. I tried to use a thicket of trees to decrease the bigger man''s range of movement, parried and ran more than once around a rock or stump to get the high ground and even forced Saul to do a full flip as I cornered him between me and a ridge, only for him to reverse our positions on me and deny me any small victory.


    It was discouraging, but Saul seemed pleased as he decided we had trained enough for the morning and opened up the satchel from where he pulled out the food from the kitchens.


    "Did you speak to your father about having a friend over?" Saul brought up a conversation we had had last time we came out. "It''s not good for you to spend all your time in Gristol boxed up in your room like that. Why not your cousin, Pricel or that cousin your father talked about?"


    "I''m not boxed up," I said, while taking the sandwich he held out to me. "I''m out here with you, and I train with father other days and I even went out to lower town with Simila yesterday. It was really exciting."


    More than just exciting, but I didn''t have to tell Saul about Giacob and the orphans.


    "Haah, it''s not the same, Tilly. You know, I only ever see you smile in Olwick. You get along with the villagers there, but you won''t be able to forever."


    "Why not? Crion is going to be my knight, like you are to father. And Nayen..."


    Nayen had come along a bit over the past couple years. I was excited to show him the stasis rune. He was always sceptical of Sam''s theories, of real magic, but that would bring him around.


    "You wouldn''t understand now, but you will grow further apart from the village children however much you may not want it. Perhaps you can take on Crion like your father did me. He could become a knight still, though he can''t even beat you anymore. He needs a lot more training. Nayen on the other hand..." Saul trailed off.


    "Crion is good." I protested. How could Crion be compared with me? Saul said I would even surpass father someday, so it was unfair for Crion to be held to the same standard.


    "Right. Anyway, Nayen is training to be your valet," Saul went back to his previous thought. "It''s not a bad thing to trust a valet, but it''s not the same as a friend. Plus, you really should get to know other peers of yours."


    "Achoo!" I sneezed as I got the taste of pepper from the lamb up my nose. I liked the lamb ham and the slightly sweet milk bread, but I should ask the chef to put less pepper and butter. I always forgot though, since I usually put together my own breakfasts at the table in the living room.


    "So? You heard me right," Saul reminded me to respond to him.


    "Mmh, I''ll try," I mumbled.


    "And you''ll talk to your father about that cousin?"


    "Oh ''kay," Saul was talking about Vaidel, a boy from father''s relatives from his mother''s side. My grandmother, the duke''s first wife had passed away a long time ago.


    It was easy enough to say okay to Saul, since I knew I wouldn''t see Vaidel this year anyway. Even if father did invite him and his parents, we would only see them next year when they came to Gristol, much like we did.


    I didn''t know him, or much about his family. He wasn''t the heir to the county, but father seemed to have some connection with them.


    Particularly after meeting Giacob, I wasn''t so keen or trusting of my family and all their shitty consipiracies. But perhaps these other more distant relatives would be better company.


    I heard Saul sigh again but he thankfully let off the topic so that we could climb back on our horses and start heading back.


    It''s not like I was actively trying to avoid making friends with other noble children, but most of them were either wimpy like Pricel or overly aggressive and prideful like Geran Clous. There wasn''t really much of a middle ground.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I don''t know why he was so negative about Crion and Nayen anyway.


    Cinder clopped over a small but elegant stone bridge as we returned to the manor. It crossed a brook that would follow the forest until joining with the Tachys that I heard roaring, like a whisper in the distance.


    There was a waterfall up North of Gristol, where the river skirted the King''s hunting grounds and then disappeared into the wild lands north of Farand.


    Then we were soon back in Seventhill and I was putting Cinder back in his stall. The small escape from these politics was done, and now I had to ready myself for the afternoon ahead of me.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "We shall be back shortly, Byl," father called to the man from Olwick who now acted as our coachman.


    I wasn''t paying attention to father or our coachman though.


    Since we had arrived in the courtyard of grandfather''s palace, all I could see were the three men dressed in the same red and grey livery that Byl and Simila wore. We were all Feles, but these ones had a golden flair in a ring around the collar showing they were directly in the duke''s household.


    Less conspicuous was the small rune just above the collar, drawn directly on his skin. It was the same as the ones the servers at the Elafoz''s palace had.


    I started as Lyum greeted us and settled my shoulders back and imagined holding a sword over my head, the top of my head drawn towards the pommel above.


    He reminded me of Sir Barker, the lines and shape of their faces so similar and memorable.


    Sir Barker taught me that knights and lords have to keep their dignity and posture. If you look guilty, you are guilty. If you look weak, you invite aggression.


    Sir Barker was not an aristocrat and didn''t put on any airs, but he was manly and strong, even in the last years of his life. He might not have been a mage as my imagination had dressed him up to be in my youth, but he was still a role model and I would not let grandfather do me or Sir Barker''s memory any shame while I was here.


    "The duke is meeting with another currently, so you will have to wait outside his study for a moment."


    Grandfather''s moustached butler said as he brought father and I inside and up the curved marble staircase that was so much smaller than I remembered. He gestured to a divan for us to sit in the hall, just beside the wooden door.


    "Thank you Lyum," father told him as we sat side by side.


    Who is meeting grandfather? I wondered and thought I could make out grandfather''s voice behind the door.


    "...the county?" he was asking someone.


    A moment passed, the other man''s voice too muffled to make out, but then I heard grandfather clearly as he raised his voice to respond.


    "I thought I was clear that you would become Cofferer. What''s this about inheriting the county?"


    I had no clue who the Cofferer was, but I knew at least that it was one of the ministers of the kingdom.


    "Father," a woman''s voice, perhaps because of the higher pitch, was discernible, "Javir could be Count of Herden with your support."


    "Don''t call me father, woman," My grandfather responded harshly. "Both of you will stop this nonsense. Your uncle Count Zeden Abtulla already has a perfectly fine heir and I have no intention of interceding in the affairs of Hartun."


    "Duke, please don''t deny brother this oppor-"


    "I said no. Your brother will do as I say. Am I clear?" there was a heavy silence before grandfather continued "You can go back to your father and remind him about Venua. I am tired of cleaning up his messes. This time he shall not be making a new one."


    I heard another mumble. It sounded like the man responding sullenly.


    There was a shuffle of footsteps and then the door opened to let them out, though I couldn''t see who they were yet because of the doorframe.


    "You two stay here, I''m not done with you yet."


    The door closed, but not before a man who I hadn''t seen before came out.


    Not 2 people then, there must have been 3 people inside, just that one of them hadn''t spoken since we got here. The woman was calling grandfather ''father'' though. Was this Lady Marian''s relative?


    "Sivis? What are you doing here?" the man said in a tone to match his glare.


    He only looked slightly older than Giacob, but despite all his finery, I found Giacob to be more impressive.


    "You think I have nothing better to do than be pulled into your family''s issues?" We heard grandfather''s voice boom from behind the door again.


    I saw the eyes in the man''s grouchy face squint at father.


    "You heard all that?" He asked, "Don''t you dare say a word to anyone."


    Grandfather''s voice overlapped his."You two give me enough trouble as it is. Have you no shame?" He sounded like he was scolding children. "One of you spends all your time sniffing for gold while the other can''t get their nose out of a wineglass. And now you want me to ruin my authority in Farand for what? So that my pawn placed in the palace runs back to the countryside?"


    Father bowed his head as the man''s face flushed red at the commotion behind the door.


    Did grandfather not know we were here? Was he doing this on purpose to humiliate this man?


    "Huheuheu," a laugh came out of the man''s stomach, "don''t just bow like a dumb mute. You can laugh at me." His belly kept on laughing autonomously, interrupting him as he tried to speak. "All these years, you''re still with that bitch and I''m now the one trapped under your father''s claws. Isn''t it ironic?"


    I saw a tear roll down his cheek.


    He turned away, perhaps noticing it as well and his laughter cut off abruptly.


    "I won''t let you come back. My sister would never forgive me."


    His back disappeared from view as he went down the stairs and the door beside us opened again.


    I hadn''t recognised the man, but I did recognise the couple who walked out now. It was Stegan and Miladona Feles, who I had seen up on the dais uncorking the first bottle of wine at the Elafoz''s.


    Miladona was looking the other way as they walked out, whispering something at her husband, perhaps, but she stopped and turned when she saw Stegan''s eyes widen.


    "Brother?" Stegan said.


    "You." She followed, with something that looked like fear in her eyes.


    "Tilvrade?" My grandfather said from inside the room, as if he was part of the conversation.


    I darted a look at father, who still had his head bowed and was looking a bit sick.


    He just raised his eyebrows at me, telling me to go inside.


    I bowed to Stegan and Miladona, not opening my mouth since I wasn''t sure if I was supposed to call them Aunt and Uncle or avoid doing just that.


    Miladona frowned and saw me for the first time, confused that it was me who was called by grandfather and not father, but then there was a glimmer of recognition and she and Stegan stepped out of my way.


    I looked not at them, but at Lyum. I had completely forgotten about him, but he was still standing next to the door. He nodded his head at me in quiet encouragement as he held the door.


    I paused as Lyum closed the door behind me, distracted, despite myself by the shelves that were chock full of thick old books. Above the shelves were the portraits of old men and everything was lit by a set of luxurious gas lamps that could be mistaken for flowers, each with an enormous green leaf curling around the flame as a shade and the figure of a woman woven into the silver trunk that made a stand.


    And then I saw it.


    It was impossible to miss the large triptych on a purpose-made shelf on the right side of the room. The panels were closed showing only the cover painting.


    On the left panel, it showed a man in profile, from behind, and on the right, their hand, cleverly lifting a key towards a silver lock that held the panels shut. It seemed like it was telling the watcher to unlock it themselves with the real key but was also perhaps an allegory of the danger in curiosity, foreshadowed by the expectant purple skinned creature that was peeking out from the top right corner.


    But the man''s hair was white, his hands youthful. He was just like the men of Lucia and I was sucked into my curiosity, wondering what he would see when he opened the panels.


    Of course, I calmed myself down, he wasn''t a man of Lucia. He wore a robe, unlike the trousers of Sam''s wardrobe or even the ones I had on right now. He was probably one of the elves of the North, but still, what did those hide?


    "Tilvrade Feles." He spoke, breaking my wonder, his hands steepled in front of him as he examined me.

 Chapter 45: a gift

    The old man spoke to me and my eyes were drawn away from the triptych and to this man, both family and foe, who sat before me much as he had so many years ago.


    His girth and his stern face made him seem like an immoveable mountain. His elbows, resting on the table in front of him, were a wall between us. Even though my memories from when I was 2 were hazy, I did not forget the way he spurned my parents when we first came to this room, or how he commanded his heir and daughter-in-law''s fear just moments before, when I was waiting outside this room.


    "Duke Feles," I said with a bow, "This one is Tilvrade of Olwick, here at your summons." I was careful to follow my father''s admonitions from yesterday.


    The duke''s face remained impassive, but his steepled hands started tapping, perhaps reflecting a thought that was set in motion.


    "I see you have changed your name." He said, small eyes watching me like a hawk from a bald head, "But I preferred your greeting the other night."


    I tried to hide my flinch. Did I obey father? Or should I try to appease this man?


    "Ahem," I cleared my throat but grandfather''s eyes narrowed and he waited. If I was in for a penny, then I was in for a pound.


    "Grandfather," I added, "I am Tilvrade Feles, son of Sivis Feles."


    "Hmph," he said, this time with a small but cynical smile, "you just had to add your father in there, didn''t you."


    "With all respect, your grace," I said, switching to the duke''s honorific, "I am not ashamed of my father or my mother."


    I had just disobeyed my father to use the Feles name, but it was also father who told me to do as the duke wanted. That didn''t mean I would betray my real family though. I carried this man''s name but I felt no kinship with him. If he summoned me here for something, than I had to first make it clear that I felt no shame in my mother or father and that I would fight for them if I had to.


    "Well, Tilvrade Feles, son of Sivis Feles," he said, only hissing on one Feles, "tell me, how did you catch Grairin''s eye?"


    My hand twitched. Who was Grairin? Right, that was the Elafoz''s name. No one ever referred to the crown prince as anything except the Elafoz, but that wasn''t his actual name, just a title bestowed to Farand''s 1st in line to the throne by the elves long ago.


    "Your grace, it was a coincidence. His excellency, the envoy from Klistoss was speaking to me when his highness came to meet him."


    Grandfather''s eyebrows rose.


    "Ah, yes. Sershik was there as well."


    "Is... is that why I''m here?" I asked hesitantly. I hoped grandfather wouldn''t start raging at me just for asking a question out of turn, but I wanted to know.


    "Audacity." He said, and I felt a shiver, wondering if I''d be walking out of the room with the same beaten expression as the angry man from before. "That is why you are here, not Grairin," he said, leaving me confused.


    "Uh, pardon?"


    Instead of answering right away, grandfather stood up from his chair, taking a moment to lift himself up. He turned around and held up the curtain that was only loosely tied to the side of the window to have a better look outside.


    "Alright, I will humour you. Let''s see if you can impress me, Tilvrade." He addressed me but seemed to be talking to himself. "I want you to tell me why I summoned you and your father that evening, just before you left."


    I was left reeling as he reworded my own question back at me. Why did he summon me?


    No, not why did he summon me here. There was something about being summoned before we left, in front of the doors, the crowds.


    "Grairin said he met an interesting boy, yes," the duke continued speaking towards the window, "I wouldn''t have summoned you if not for that. But it is not the reason why I summoned you either."


    I mulled over the hint and started to speak slowly.


    "We were in the middle of a crowd of the celebrations," I started with the obvious. "It wasn''t that you summoned us because of his highness," I then repeated his hint, "you summoned us because of the place."


    I thought of Miladona, who seemed so haughty in the palace hall and yet so discouraged when she left this room before I entered. "You were reminding everyone that you could restore father at any time." Maybe that was just my wishful thinking speaking, but I hoped it was true. "You were reminding Lord Stegan he couldn''t ignore us or you."


    "Your Uncle Stegan as well as those other opportunists need to be reminded sometimes that I still hold the power to determine the succession." Grandfather confirmed.


    It was the exact reason father did not want this man''s attentions. Dastan and Stegan were already dangerous enough without grandfather stirring the hive.


    "To be a duke, there is no room to be complacent," grandfather explained. "My heirs are too confident and slothful."


    There was something still missing though.


    "But if you just called us as a message to Lord Stegan, then why-"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Audacity, Tilvrade," he interrupted me with that word again. "That is the reason you are here again today. Don''t make me repeat myself."


    He wasn''t scolding me for being audacious, but praising me.


    "Then you might really make my father or I the next duke."


    If he wanted audacity, then I could do that. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I said it though.


    "Huff." He sniffed in the closest thing to laughter I had seen from him, "My brother quibbles while of my sons, one grovels and the other runs away, and my daughter..." He just shook his head and then looked at me. "And then there''s you, fearless and bold."


    He spoke in praise but his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Don''t get ahead of yourself, boy. You won''t be the next duke. You just happen to have that spark I was looking for, lost in the rest of this rotten family."


    I lowered my head. It takes one to know one. If there was rot in this family, then I was certain this man was the blackest of it.


    I felt my head clear a bit as he denied any chance of being the next duke to me or father. I also wondered what the hell I was doing, asking if he wanted me to be duke.


    Father wasn''t hearing all this right? I heard grandfather from outside the study when he was shouting earlier, but his voice wasn''t particularly raised now.


    I don''t need to be a duke. In fact, if I tried, I''d probably be killed before I ever got there. I just need to make sure Olwick is safe, that my parents, Ivian, me and my brother are safe too. The fewer power hungry relatives that knew about and talked about us, the better.


    "Still, I admit you have some perception," grandfather spoke, reversing the conversation as he sat down again. "I did indeed call you two nights ago for my own purposes, but I summoned you again here to see who you are. Tell me, is there anything you want?"


    He was offering me a reward for my answer to his riddle? What should I ask for? Or what could I ask for, rather?


    It was an opportunity: I could ask for gold, or for an assurance I would inherit Olwick from father, something that, for a lord, was never a certainty. But I felt that would disappoint this man. Should I ask for more than just Olwick, to demonstrate my ability to manage a territory, or perhaps impress him by investing his money for a return. It might work, but then what?


    He said he summoned me here again to see who I was. In that case, should I just be honest and ask for protection for my family. Maybe ask for him to invest in the orphanage near South Gate, both to help the children there and to produce a future return.


    It was a field of mines around me. There was a right and a wrong answer to this simple question.


    He waited patiently for me to decide, his eyes never leaving me. Perhaps he could read my thoughts as he stared at my head.


    Magic, an idea echoed through my head from the hunger of Sam.


    "A mesmer," I blurted out, startled by the sudden thought, but inspired. "I want someone who can teach me magic."


    "Hooh," Grandfather exhaled and nodded.


    "A mesmer." He repeated, savouring the word. "You manage to say such ridiculous things but stay just within the boundaries of my patience..."


    I didn''t know much about the mesmers, except that they were the mages of the capital, the ones that mattered. No one talked about them, as if they were some kind of taboo, and I couldn''t find mention of them in the books I read. Only one, a romance novel lent to me by Dilthimay, with mesmers disappearing through shadows and summoning demons to play pranks on innocent souls.


    "A mesmer is not someone that even I can just hand off as a reward. Sons of lords like you grovel to be taken on as an apprentice on their terms, let alone have one sent to teach them."


    "It''s not-"


    "Ah," he raised his index finger and interrupted me before I could speak. It seemed like he was always pulling the conversation along at his own pace. I had wanted to say he could just to introduce me. Give me a chance to ask a few simple questions.


    "I will not send you a mesmer," He said, making me wonder if I wasted my chance, but then he told me the door was not closed, "Not without some assurance that it would be worthwhile. If you are so eager to learn, then prove it to me."


    I struggled to come up with something that could prove that I was diligent at studying. Maybe listing off the various territories and nobility of Farand, or some of the histories of the kingdom.


    Dididididing


    Grandfather picked up a small bell from his desk, which he rang, the tones of metal striking metal filling the wood panelled study.


    The door opened and the moustached butler, Lyum Barker came into the room.


    He looked older, but I had a sense of deja vu as I remembered him entering the room the same way years ago when grandfather had summoned him to lead us to the Edbrian rooms.


    It was dark then, and I was half asleep in mother''s arms, so tired from being in the carriage all week.


    "You called, my lord?"


    "Lyum, bring Alust here." grandfather told him.


    "Right away, my lord." The door slipped shut again.


    "A year hence, or there abouts, I shall see you at theduchy''s tournament. I expect you to perform adequately, and also to hear Alust''s praise."


    Theduchy''s tournament was a competition held by theduchy''s knights. Father had wanted to enter me into the first one he could, but the last one was 4 years ago, the same time we moved into the new manor in Seventhill and I just turned 3.


    "Father trains me in the sword..." I complained. I didn''t need some other strong arm getting in the way of my time with father and Saul in the mornings.


    "Do you think I look like someone who trains with the sword?" The duke asked and I shook my head, trying not to look at his fat frame. "Exactly, I do not and I did not. I thought it was a vain pursuit of fools who would only ever be pawns for the real dukes and kings. But it''s because I am not a swordsman that I understand. The sword is important."


    From any other fat old man, I might have rolled my eyes, but this was the duke himself.


    "The sword is a mark of a lord, of any station. You don''t need to become a swordsman of talent and renown to become powerful, but if you can''t even match a lowly lord, then we shall have no need to talk further."


    I looked down and bit my lip.


    A lord wasn''t lowly. Father was well respected by his knight and the villagers of Olwick. The lords were each a military power and a representative, but grandfather seemed to dismiss them all as if they were nobodies.


    "Don''t underestimate the world, boy. There are any number of merchants, artisans, knights and even courtesans who are wealthier, more celebrated or better educated than lords of fiefs. If you are to be a Feles of Efeles, then you must deserve the name."


    I felt a stirring within me of respect for his views on status. It was foreign though, a feeling of Sam''s. Being a lord or a noble was not a reason for pride.


    I tried to resist the idea that a lord, that my family, was even less mention worthy than wealthy or influential commoners, but it was hard to resist both Sam and grandfather''s values of merit over lineage when the people I respected least were some of those very nobles, and the ones I cared for were the villagers in Olwick.


    It didn''t take much time until the door opened again, and the butler brought in another man.


    "Alust, you are here. Good." Grandfather said. "My grandson has an eagerness to learn. You will teach him for the next year, everything you think he is ready to learn. I will be expecting Tilvrade''s best conduct and diligence, which you shall confirm for me."


    "Your grace," the buff man said it in a blustering manner, taken aback obviously by the unexpected command.


    "Lyum, lead them out, will you?"


    Grandfather gave him no time, however, to balk or complain.


    "Of course."


    "Tilvrade," grandfather called one last time just before I left the room, "Competence is not about who you are, but about what you can do. Do not disappoint me."

 Note and Feles family tree

    I''m really sorry everyone who is reading and enjoying this series.


    It''s just that I have a lot going on in my life and compared to the first stretch, my daily output has just been dropping a lot.


    So, I have to apologise and tell all of you that I really appreciate the support, the ratings and the comments!


    And that I''m sorry the revisions took way longer than I expected.


    ...


    Anyway, now that we''re caught up, I will be releasing chapters with new plot! So I hope some of the original readers of Cursed Era have stuck around or come back and I promise there won''t be big revisions like this... for at least a while(?).


    <u>Summary of changes in the revised version</u>


    - Tilvrade is younger now, only 7 as of the latest chapter even though the events after the time skip remain largely the same


    - Tilvrade''s swordsmanship ethos was flipped. Tilvrade is really excited about his technique and skills and is aiming to take after his dad, who he respects and hopes to emulate


    - Tilvrade has only done the sharpening experiment and is planning to do a stasis rune experiment over the summer. The heat rune has been removed.


    - Note the magic system matured a bit, and I swapped out most references to arrays with runes. Both runes and arrays have a part to play, but runes will be more common.


    - Earlier on in the story the time spent in the duke''s palace in Gristol was cut from 2 years to 1 winter


    - There were a few additions of minor evens such as the peddler getting mad about a shipment of wheat and appealing to Lord Scafel and Viscount IkburrIf you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    - A new fairy tale was introduced with references to the Church of the Sun to lead into the discussion with the Klisimian


    - The days of the week system was removed in favour of plain english. The titles were also phased into english versions.


    - Some of the memories were smoothed out a bit... though I''ll probably have to do more work on this when I revise Cursed Era next. Hoping to do this later rather than sooner so that I can advance the plot somewhat first.


    - The character Naenie who was only mentioned in the original draft was replaced with a male character called Nayen who is training to be Tilvrade''s valet and apprentice


    <u>Release rate</u>


    I''m aiming for 3 chapters a week... but I''ll have to see how it goes. I don''t have any chapter reserve, so I''ll see what I can write and update you with how it''s going in the chapter notes.


    <u>Pacing</u>


    If you think that now we''re getting over Tilly''s early years and it''s going to get exciting... think again! Pacing shall continue as it has. Tilly has a long way to go yet.


    That being said, I do intend to plan some more action in the spring time, when Tilvrade is 8. If you see opportunities for more action or suspense, please tell me since this isn''t my strong point!


    Family trees


    I''ve been asked to do some family trees for Tilly and some of the other characters so you guys have a quick reference and I think it''s a really good idea! Thanks Zazablord and Killashard for the suggestion.


    Now, important bit:


    Do any of you know of a good family tree visualisation tool or guide I could use? If I''m going to do this, I''d like it to look good, at least... Please tell me!


    Update: Here''s a family tree for Tilvrade''s family, as described to-date. Doesn''t include all the characters, just the ones in the family that are mentioned at some point or another.


    Edits and reviews


    Thanks so much to all of you who have provided me with notes on typos, grammar errors or inconsistencies. I really appreciate that and have applied everything I could!


    Special mention for Skooting and Dosithee who both did a ton of work helping me edit Cursed Era!! And notable mentions to Eersc, Validar and blackfear2!


    Also, a super big thanks to all the reviewers! I''ve really appreciated each and every review on Cursed Era and wanted to thank you for your encouragement and the time you took! I hope Cursed Era continues to meet your expectations and gets on a bit after this long time spent on review >_>

 Chapter 46: an old promise

    Father wasn''t outside the study when we went out through the door. I looked around apprehensively as we descended the stairs, but had little choice but to follow Lyum and Alust as they went outside into the courtyard.


    A woman with a boy and girl ran up to us to see Alust, wondering, perhaps, what had gone on upstairs.


    "I have been asked to train this boy for the next year," He said simply.


    "Papa, why are-"


    "Shh, not now Olianna." The mother shushed her girl, "Please tell me it''s no more than twice a week." She told Alust, who turned towards the butler.


    "Mr. Barker?" He asked.


    "I''m afraid Lord Sivis got Olwick and his family will be returning to their fief very shortly. I will be joining you for part of the journey to attend my brother''s funeral in Bridgewater. He was a household knight of Lord Sivis."


    I had been looking forward to the return to Olwick for a long time now, not least because father promised I could ride back this year. We were supposed to leave on Monday. I hadn''t realised Lyum was going to be joining us though. I hope that didn''t mean a change in travel plans.


    "Mr. Barker," Alust''s wife started talking to Lyum, "surely you could reconsider. Why is my husband being sent off like this? Has he served his grace so poorly?"


    "Madam, you will take back those words. There is no shame in serving his grace''s grandson." Lyum frowned at her. "I hope you understand this as an opportunity his grace has given you. There will be no issue with your pay and board, and Lord Sivis will see to your comfort over the winter."


    Mr. Barker was always bowing and ''my lording'' when I saw him before, but in front of Alust and his wife, he kept his back straight and seemed to be a figure of authority.


    It was somewhat surprising to me, but as the duke''s butler, he would be the master of the palace and its people.


    Alust''s wife looked ready to say something more, but Alust interceded, trying to placate her. "Don''t worry, I just need to tutor the boy for a year. If you prefer, you can even stay here in Gristol. That would be alright, would it not, Mr. Barker?"


    "Don''t be silly, Alust," his wife spoke again, not giving the butler a chance to respond. "We can''t stay here without you. Olianna and Orjel ."


    She didn''t seem happy about going, but evidently saw it as her duty to accompany her husband.


    "What is going on?" My father was striding towards us from the door. "Lyum? Who is this?"


    I had been a bit concerned when he hadn''t been waiting outside of the study when we left the door, so it was a relief to see him appear, confident and strong as always.


    "My lord, his grace has assigned Mr. Alust Gramme here as a tutor for your son."


    "A tutor?"


    "Yes, my lord, Alust was a preceptor from the university, he is well qualified."


    "Tilvrade is still young. He doesn''t need to be tutored," Father started saying. "Don''t worry Tilvrade," he turned to me, "I will go talk to your grandfather about this."


    I heard a happy sigh from Alust''s wife, evidently relieved that father didn''t see the need to take her and Alust away from here.


    I grabbed the hem of father''s coat, however.


    "No, I want to learn. Alust is grandfather''s gift..."


    I trailed off at father''s frown.


    "Grandfather''s gift?" He repeated me, "What happened to make you so close with my father all of a sudden? A tutor is not a game. He will demand hours and hours of work from you, and strike you when you displease him. We are not high nobles, you do not have to do this."


    "Lord Feles...?" Alust hesitantly asked.


    "What is it? Alust?"


    "I don''t know his grace''s intent, but I was only asked to watch over Lord Tilvrade until next year, perhaps only the winter, as his grace asked me to speak with him again in the spring."


    There was a moment of silence as father seemed to be lost in thought, but then he turned to me.


    "You are sure you want to do this?" He asked me.


    I nodded with determination.


    I wanted to impress grandfather again, to show him and the other nobles in Efeles and Gristol that father, mother and I were not some kind of training dummies to be punched and kicked around. We are the Feles of Olwick and they should take us seriously.


    ¡°We will be leaving tomorrow. I''ll send Byl with the carriage to bring you to the manor before we leave. My wife and sons will have to ride with you until we can get another carriage, probably in Bridgewater.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    When we left the manor though, father didn''t take us straight back to Seventhill. Instead, I heard him call out to Byl to take us to lower town.


    The carriage clattered over the cobbled road, leaving the Duke''s palace and Westhill soon thereafter.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked father.


    He looked at me and smirked, ¡°I wasn''t sure you were old enough, but if your grandfather is sending you a tutor, then I have a promise to deliver on.¡± My father said mysteriously. ¡°I guess it''s a day of gifts for you.¡±


    I sat up a bit straighter. That sounded very much like father was planning to get me a gift as well. I wonder what promise this was though?


    I pressed my nose into the glass of the new carriage, very happy to have the upgrade from the old one with those rugged shutters. Outside, we were just joining the main boulevard that was more park than road with its rows of trees between three strips of cobbled stone.


    We didn''t stay on it long, however, as we came out into the city centre, where the road from East Gate to West Gate met the boulevard and separated lower town from Lookout and Westhill.


    We turned down into lower town and I thought I recognised a couple of the shops and taverns I had seen before when I had come here with Simila. I had only been here once though, so it was mostly just the shops with colourful signs or open workshops.


    We went down the street a ways before father had us stop in front of one of those open workshops, a smithy and its adjacent storefront, decorated in a yellow paint and ornate silver and gold metalwork patterns that made it a little palace of its own.


    ¡°This is Gerard''s Forge.¡± Father waved his hand in the direction of the sign that announced that name, jutting out of the wall with a picture of a hammer and anvil. ¡°He''s not the best smith nor cursewright in Gristol, but he''s one of the few who is masters in both crafts. I promised I would bring you here, remember when I showed you my blade?¡±


    ¡°Of course, father,¡± I said, smiling up at him.


    I had not brought it up with him, since I knew father would have delayed it further if I acted childishly, but I had been eagerly hoping to see the workshop of a cursewright ever since father told me about them. What secrets could they hold? What materials and mana stones?


    ¡°Don''t get your hopes up quite yet though. I was a bit impulsive this time, seeing as your grandfather is sending you a tutor. I would have liked to talk with Gerard, ask him in advance. I have no idea whether he''ll let you in to see him work, or even if he''s here right now.


    ¡°What do you mean inside though? I can see the forge and work right in there,¡± I pointed to the open smithy right beside the storefront. It seemed like they invited customers in, surely it couldn''t be that guarded.


    ¡°Oh, that''s just for show. Some of Gerard''s apprentices work at the forge there and do repairs or maintenance for his customers, but none of the magic happens in full view of the public.¡±


    He grabbed my hand and we walked into the shop side. I craned my neck a bit to look up at the old man in a simple and well worn grey coat who stood, stooped a bit, looking very old and wizard like.


    ¡°Welcome to Gerard''s Forge. Ah,¡± he squinted at my father for a few moments, ¡°is that the young master Feles?¡±


    I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh too loudly. He just called my father ''young master''.


    ¡°Ebert, was it? It''s been a long time. I''m honoured you remember me.¡±


    ¡°No, no. Honour''s mine, my lord. What do you need today? Something for the little one? A shrieking knife or a memorial amule-¡±


    CLANG kling kling CLANG


    The old man had barely finished speaking before the sounds of a heavy hammer striking iron rang out through the whole shop, causing me to jump a bit.


    ¡°Gerard''s making amulets now?¡± Father asked, unfazed at the loud clamour.


    Kling kling kling


    ¡°Ah right, you haven''t been here in a while,¡± the old man, likewise, completely ignored the reverberating sound.


    I peeked over through the stone arch to the smithy that I had seen when we had stopped in front of the shop. There were two men in there, one of them with a leather apron hammering on what looked like a metal vambrace.


    It seems the hammering was done for a moment, as the smith picked up the vambrace in something that looked like hedge cleavers and stuck it into an oven, while the other man poked at the coals with an iron rod.


    I judged that the smith here wasn''t as strong or muscular as Crion''s dad and dismissed him. A blacksmith had to have muscles, right?


    ¡°Master Carter, one of Master Gerard''s sons returned from apprenticeship with Master Haldor, a silversmith down in Labrine. He set up his own workshop recently with the support of Lord Oederbrin but has been making lower tier trinkets and amulets to sell here as he doesn''t have a shop of his own or a full schedule of commissions yet.¡±


    ¡°I''ll have a look then. Happy to support a new cursewright.¡±


    ¡°Ahem, mmh...¡± Ebert looked a bit abashed from father''s question, ¡°Master Carter will be honoured, though, I have to mention that he hasn''t trained as a cursewright, just a silversmith. The amulets here are charmed by Master Gerard''s apprentices.¡±


    ¡°Is Master Gerard not too busy right now? I was hoping to say hello and introduce my son.¡±


    ¡°Right, of course. Wait here as I go check in the workshop.¡±


    The older man left, not through the arch to the smithy, but through a smaller door behind the counter, probably to the real smithy that father had mentioned.


    Since there didn''t seem to be anything else to do for the moment, I took a look around the store. It was more like a living room than a store, really.


    There were a few fancy chairs for customers to sit in and a large, if somewhat cloudy window that as propped open to let out some of the hot air. Father took a seat on one of them, just beside a large plate armour on a wooden stand.


    It wasn''t all that impressive though. It was just plain steel pieces, no engravings or designs or colours. Pretty much identical to the other one standing beside it, except for how big it was.


    CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG kling


    The hammering started up again and I looked towards the arch to the smithy. Unlike the other four walls that matched the upscale image of outside the shop, the wall to the smithy was just bare stonework. On it, there were a number of wall fixtures with some of the tools and weapons they were selling.


    At least, I assumed they were for sale. There wasn''t anything like the price tags that I had picked out of Sam''s memories or the enormous display counters with hundreds of staff to navigate and choose from.


    Just an old man who I assume would tell you what to pay.


    Kling kling CLANG


    All of the wall display looked quite dazzling, but there was one thing in particular that I couldn''t look away from. It was not the broadsword with its hilt wrapped in green leather, nor the scythe, or what looked like a scythe, but with a hook on the opposite side.


    It was just a little box, made of silver that I couldn''t make heads or tails of. It seemed to be made of smaller pieces, some round with teeth and others looping together in a kind of puzzle. Maybe it was a puzzle, a cube of challenge for children. But it looked delicate and too purposeful for that.


    Kling kling kling

 Update

    Well... that did not work out as intended.


    For the long hiatus, Iapologise.Reviewing old chapters was really getting tedious, which makes for more procrastination. On the other hand, I didn''t feel satisfied with going on when there are so many issues with what''s there...


    I got some inspiration as I kept coming back to think about the story over the 4 months though and was able to put together a new plan, altering some of the ideas slightly for the scenes ahead. I have a few chapterswritten and some plans and new characters for Tilly''s coming year, so things should go smoothly for a while now.


    However, I do want to line up some details in previous chapters so I''m only doing a soft release today. Chapter 46 is now a NEW CHAPTER. Or, more accurately, the first 1/3rd is pre-existing, but the latter section is a new scene that I am sure some of you were looking forward to from a previous foreshadowing. Decided to include it here because of developments that you''ll see in Bridgewater that might make it impossible toinclude later.


    Hope you like the workshop and look forward to next Sunday, when I''ll releasethe new chapter 47 and, if everything goes well, chapter 48 before the following week is through.


    Curses, complaints and disapprovals can be posted in the comments below, thanks!


    Before in Cursed Era (quick summary of chapters 1-45)...


    Someone asked me if I could do a quick recap so readers could remember what this was about. Basically Tilvrade Feles was born to a lower noble family in the forests of the Farand kingdom. His father is the disinherited son of the Duke of Efeles and his mother the daughter of a viscount who had a bad reputation, since the title was gained for contributions during a war 50 years ago and not an old landed noble.


    Tilvrade grows up in hisparents''manor in Olwick, under the loving care of his mother and the maid Ivian, until they notice something wrong with him. The baby learns to speak too early and talks about white haired ghosts and things he shouldn''t know.


    It isn''t wholly unusual in Farand to hear of such things though. Curses are a part of the world. Whether it''s the cursed shriekers that roam the forest mindlessly during the snowy winters or the spells of malicious intent that even Tilvrade''s mother was subjected to before Tilvrade was born, the cursed weapons that trade power for blood and the great warlocks of the stories who die for grand and terrible vengeance, there is always a shadow that lies about this land, one that Tilly himself might be under.


    A shaman, a witch doctor of this neck of the woods is brought to the manor to check Tilvrade''s health before dying in some dysentery or consumption that is passed to the valet of the house.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Tilly sees little of the manor''s events, buteven his life is affected as the manor, short on hands, brings in an old nanny, Grita, the midwife to take care of him.


    Fortunately, life isn''t all bad, as he makes friends with his maid, Ivian''s niece Eve. Despitebaby Tilly''smaturity, he takes joy in teasing his 3-year older playmate and learning new wonders of the world, like blowing soap bubbles or the eating of semolina as he cuddles his small plush not-quite-rabbit to sleep at night.


    His world is shaken by the disruption of a kidnapper. Nistan Bairv, a supposed bodyguard of Tilly''s cousin on his mother''s side, Pricel takes both of the children and even Ivian on a trek through the woods on a rainy night. Visions of another world assail him as the group seeks refuge from shriekers in the cold and uninviting ruins of the giant Velikans in the stories.


    Rescued, by luck, his own mysterious talent in unstructured magic and his valiant maid, Tilly returns to recover slowly, over the winter months from his broken leg and shaken brain.


    His growth andthe threat the unexpected boy and heir put their whole family underdo not go unheeded though. His parents decide to make a journey to the kingdom''s capital, to seekthe perpetratorsbehind Nistan''skidnapping and, desperately, the goodwill of the Duke.


    Although neither goal is achieved, they do return with another maid from the capital who Tilly later, during the betrayal of the family''s coachman as well as the tax collector in Olwick, learns is not merely a maid. But who is behind these attacks? When will they end?


    The answer is not given, either to Tilly or his family. But life does not wait for safety and solace. Tilly continues to grow, to learn, to see. Sir Barker, the old handyman in the manor yards teaches him to ride a horse. His father teaches him to use mana strengthening and the sword. The village boy Crion becomes his sparring partner, and he (and his caretakers) rescueNayen, the shepherd''s boy out in the woods.


    Time passes and Tilly grows to 7 years old. His younger brother Brendal has also turns 4 that year that they stay again in the capital far from their home.


    A great celebration is arranged that year, not for the birthday of the two little boys, but for one of a Count, only lately become a man. What is so impressive about that, you may ask? Why nothing of course, it was just a good excuse for the Duke to have a good party.


    Not much stands out about that day of festivity, except perhaps the Klisimian, a lizard man of the semi-independent duchy of Klistoss. Tilvrade and even Sam, whose memories have slowly trickled into our hero don''t recognise anything like it. A man that is not a man, but rather part snake or lizard. Perhaps he shouldn''t have been so impressedby the race of this stranger with whom he exchanged no more than a few words, but it leaves a deeper impression than the Lady Phienna who he sits beside at dinner. Still, perhaps that is just the dulcet amber - that he most certainly should have not drunk - making his head a bit dizzy as she told him of the armies of undead of kingdoms far far away, and, of her cute daughter Sedrina who she hoped would make his acquaintance sometime soon.


    He also meets his grandfather again. Now older, he leaves somewhat heavier an impression. They meet a few days later, Tilly summoned to his study, and his grandfather hears of his thoughts and ambitions. A small gift is made, a tutor from his grandfather''s estate.


    And there, we are not so far from the present. Tilly is still in the capital of Gristol, reading his books, these ones of the main religion of the land.


    And I hope that''s a decent recap and not too hard on the eyes. I suggest you start reading from chapter 46, which is the first new chapter after the hiatus.

 Chapter 47: the cursewrights workshop

    CLANG CLANG


    The sound of the hammer rang out as a tall man walked into the room followed by the old attendant Ebert behind him.


    ¡°Feles!¡± He exclaimed.


    He was not dressed in the leather apron of the smith next door, nor the simple and worn clothes of the shop attendant, but in a slim shirt and vest that contrasted with his baggy pantaloons.


    ¡°Master Gerard,¡± my father responded respectfully and even bowed his head.


    He must have seen the shock on my face, since the man, who couldn''t have been more than a few years younger than Ebert, despite having a certain youthful vitality turned his head to smirk and wink at me.


    ¡°Ain''t seen ''is father bow ''is ''ead to a commoner before, have ya'' boy?¡±


    Kling kling CLANG CLANG


    Despite his slim build, his face and his voice were rugged. He was no noble and not the type who put up appearances. This was a working man who was proud of it.


    ¡°My son, Tilvrade.¡± Father introduced quickly, flapping his hand weirdly at me, as if pressing something down.


    ¡°That deal with the lady o'' yours and the curse was all o''er the city back when I last saw ya''. Didn''t think you''d be back here. Not with a son. Found another darling in the countryside?¡±


    ¡°No. It''s a long story, but Tilvrade is Cianna''s son. Fate has its ways.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Gerard grunted, going silent a moment for the first time since he entered the room. But it didn''t last long.


    ¡°I''ll be. Breakin'' lingering curses, are ya? Not even I know the secret to that one.¡±


    ¡°Nothing so glamorous, Master Gerard. But I was hoping you could share some of those secrets with my son today. He is a bit too bright, if anything. He almost hurt himself a couple years back and I fear he was somehow curseworking incorrectly.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, is that right,¡± his lip twisted with a hint of a smirk. ¡°What are ya'' boy? Nine? Ten?¡± He turned on me as I shook my head.


    ¡°Seven,¡± I mumbled. I was a bit intimidated that he spoke to me when asking questions instead of asking father about me like most other adults would.


    ¡°Ha, yer boy''s seven, Sivis? Look, maybe he''s talented, maybe he ain''t. Getting ''urt after a bit of child''s play don''t mean much though. How ''bout you two come back here-¡±


    ¡°Inscribing,¡± I blurted out, afraid my opportunity might be shut down.


    CLAAANG


    Iron on iron rang out louder than before as the three men looked over at me. ¡°What''s that, boy?¡±


    ¡°Inscribing,¡± I repeated, a bit more calmly. ¡°Please, I want to learn how you do it.¡± Then I added a bit late, with a bow of my head, ¡°Master Gerard.¡±


    He might just be a craftsman, but he was someone father respected and someone who might hold knowledge that could unlock real magic.


    ¡°Where did you hear about inscribing?¡±


    But contrary to my intentions, Master Gerard''s constant expression of rugged and cynical amusement was suddenly eclipsed by a frown. His face was hard, like a soldier, or father when he rarely scolded me.


    I had forgotten, inscribing wasn''t a word father understood. That was the very conversation we had when he showed me that vampiric blade of his years ago now...


    ¡°Rune, uh, writing, I mean, how you make cursed implements,¡± I tried to explain. I was hoping he maybe just hadn''t understood. It was not the case though.


    ¡°Don''t play dumb boy. Inscribing. You spoke about inscribing. How do you know that? Did you live with the elves?¡±


    I looked at him in confusion. I had been about to make something up about old books or something, but his questions started going in a weird direction.


    ¡°Elves?¡± I asked. Wait, did the elves know something about Sam''s world? ¡°Uh, I saw the elves, yes. Um, maybe?¡±


    I only saw the elves once. How could I forget that girl''s face?


    Surrounded by the other men and women giving off a blue glow in the midnight woods. Her eyes looked up at me, peeking through the wooden shutters of our shabby carriage while flakes of snow began to fall.


    ¡°Come with me, boy. You can ''ave a look around after all. Let''s talk a bit inside, aye?¡±


    He didn''t just ask, but put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me in towards the back.


    I looked up at father who looked somewhat alarmed, but he nodded slowly at me.


    ¡°Master Gerard, I trust my son is in good hands.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Gerard looked up, seemingly somewhat startled at my father''s presence. ¡°Oh right, ''course. Just gonna show ''im the workshop, we''ll have a little chat. Right boy? We''ll be out in a spell.¡±


    I tried to slow down a bit and maybe ask father if he would come too, but I was already being pushed through the doorway that Ebert opened for the Master cursewright.


    The room on the other side was not what I expected.


    It was completely normal. Just another room, if not one as richly furnished as the storefront.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Well, normal, except for the black metal rack that looked something like it came out of a dungeon''s torture chambers. It was all made of twisted metal bits, hooks, clasps and braces jutting out where the metal pieces of swords and curved square shovel like things and chains hung.


    I made a quick prayer that we were just passing through the room to see his workshop, the secret forge that father had talked about behind. Even if there were fires and scattered metal scraps over a bare stone room like the other one, it would be more comfortable than this veneer of normality disrupted by the cruel cold steel, naked before us.


    ¡°Uh, is the forge through there?¡± I asked with a voice trembling a bit more than I had wanted.


    It felt like saying something would somehow keep us moving.


    ¡°You saw the forge already, boy. Don''t tell me you''re deaf, aye? Dalus and Jirbon were making a huge racket the whole time you were in the shop.¡±


    Even now, I could just make out the cling-clang of the men who were in the forge next to the shop. They hadn''t let up even a moment despite having people come to the shop.


    ¡°I don''t work the forge much these days. Dalus is already a master in all but name. I''ll bring ''im o''er to the guild this winter to formalise it. Just wish I ''ad an apprentice that good at enchanting.¡±


    ¡°Enchanting?¡± I asked. It sounded vaguely familiar, but the meaning eluded me, like a word on the tip of the tongue.


    ¡°Young master,¡± the older man, Ebert suddenly spoke out again, interrupting. ¡°Here''s a stool for you. Apologies we don''t have anything more comfortable for your height.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mister Ebert.¡±


    ¡°Now look here,¡± Gerard spoke again, not even giving me the time to sit down. ¡°This, boy, is the secret to the trade.¡±


    Gerard picked up a little glass jar with a black liquid inside it that was on a broad wooden table underneath the room''s large window.


    It was identical to the jar of ink that I had back in my room, but I had a feeling I knew what it was as soon as he spoke.


    ¡°Mana lacquer.¡±


    I could feel my eyes sparkle as my eyes followed the jar like a cat stalking its prey as Gerard lifted it onto the rough work desk.


    ¡°Hahaha! So you do know of it!¡± The man laughed. ¡°Who taught you? Was it really one of the elves?¡±


    I averted my gaze and held my silence. I wasn''t sure how to explain. Say yes and he would have questions I couldn''t answer because they didn''t happen, say no and he would have questions I couldn''t answer without making me seem like some kid with cursed multiple personality disorder. I never forgot the shock from when I was little that caused that shaman to check me. My memories from Sam weren''t a curse. They were what made me who I was. I couldn''t give that up or let others try to take them from me.


    ¡°No worries boy. You can hold your silence, that''s not what''s important anyway. Tell me, what do you know of inscribing?¡±


    I held my silence again. There was something hungry in this slightly wild man''s eyes.


    He was about to turn father and I away earlier, until I mentioned inscribing. It wasn''t intentional. I had forgotten all about the fact that it wasn''t a word father knew. Why Gerard knew though, I couldn''t guess.


    ¡°Well? Speak boy.¡± The master cursewright threw up his arms in some exasperation.


    ¡°Master Gerard, with all respect, I believe you''re scaring the boy. He''s only seven, sir.¡± Ebert spoke quietly from the corner of the room. He had somehow conjured a tray with steaming metallic mugs from somewhere as the cursewright paced around the room.


    ¡°I''m not petty, boy. You don''t have anything to fear. Hell, your father out there would give me a beating if I did.¡± He shook his head, but thankfully dropped the subject. ¡°Here, open your hand. Judging by the look I saw in your eyes, you''ve heard of it, but don''t have any, right?¡±


    I held my two hands upwards to receive the dark receptacle of mana lacquer.


    With this, I could much more easily paint runes. I would be able to completely skip the requirements of finding suitable materials for tethers and saturating them.


    ¡°Excited, are ya''?¡± the man continued, ¡°At least tell me what kind of enchantment you''re plannin'' to make with it. This isn''t just ink, aye? That half bottle is worth more than y''know. And only reason it ain''t more''s because there aren''t so many who know how to use it.¡±


    ¡°A heat rune,¡± I mumbled.


    ¡°Huh, heat runes. You sure you can do it?¡±


    I looked up. He didn''t say it was impossible or exclaim any surprise at the word runes. Just asked if I could do it.


    I smiled. ¡°I''ll do it!¡±


    I had been worried. The only magic I''d managed to replicate until now was the pain reflection cantrip that wasn''t really useful for much and the reinforcement techniques father taught me.


    Runes were different though. Although I suspected cursewrights were inscribers, I didn''t know for sure until now. I still didn''t understand why there weren''t more rune based tools and technologies in this kingdom, though thinking about it more deeply, it was probably the simplest explanation that was the most likely.


    Even in Sam''s world, there was a time before the modern period that was demarcated by the signing of the Treaty of Azar. I still hadn''t remembered much more about it, but I had a vague sense of the social fall of the nobility and the mage warfare that was only continued in traditions of the duel and other specialised military fields.


    ¡°Well, if you make somethin'' useful, boy, come back and show me. Maybe I''ll have another gift for ya''.¡±


    My lips twitched in the shadow of a smile.


    ¡°So, won''t you toss me a bone? What did you hear about inscribin''? Did... did the elves really know somethin'' of the Shadow Lords?¡±


    The cursewright''s voice had quieted to a hoarse whisper, not particularly soft, but tinged with fear.


    I could only blink as I tried to understand what he was talking about.


    ¡°Uh, inscribing is just rune making? What are the shadow lords?¡±


    Master Gerard''s expression slipped away and his eyes stared at me deadpan.


    ¡°''Course.¡± He let out a sigh. ¡°Don''t worry boy. I shoulda'' known you wouldn''ta heard much else. Still, a shame. If we''re to know the craft of the Shadow Lords, think o'' all the things we could craft.¡±


    ¡°The Shadow Lords, young master, were the source of all sorcery, the source of the greatest of curses and the powerful artifacts that you have no doubt heard about.¡±


    Ebert gave a quick explanation as the cursewright sank back into a cushioned chair.


    ¡°I''d been plannin'' to show you a bit of the workshop,¡± Master Gerard cut in, as he waved a hand lethargically at the room, ¡°but there ain''t much for me to show you. Me and the boys work the iron and steel in the forge and here''s where I curse the steel and paint the runes.¡±


    He was speaking as if there wasn''t much for me to learn, but I wasn''t duped. I didn''t have any secrets to share, so he wasn''t going to bother sharing any of his either.


    Fortunately, he''d already given me the bottle of priceless mana lacquer and he seemed to blame himself for being tricked into it. I didn''t really need to see much more either, not if I could continue digging at Sam''s knowledge that probably eclipsed these so called Shadow Lords anyway.


    ¡°Ebert, show the boy out, aye?¡± He said, deciding the conversation was done. I got up and bowed. It was time to be off.


    But just as Ebert opened the door and I saw father take a step back from the door where he seems to have been waiting.


    ¡°Oh, and don''t work Jom too hard, ya'' hear me? Tell''im to stop by for a visit next time''s he''s home.¡±


    I tripped over the carpet and through the door to the shop that Ebert was holding open. Fortunately, father caught me by the shoulders before I fell and helped me up to stand beside him.


    ¡°Master Gerard,¡± he said solemnly, ¡°I''m afraid Jom passed away in the spring.¡±


    ¡°Jom did? He''s dead?¡± Master Gerard faltered.


    ¡°He had gone to help Viscount Phrans with his company, but both he and the viscount were murdered by bandits.¡±


    Even though the smith and cursewright was slim and tall, he had a certain strength. To be honest, Master Gerard was nothing like what I expected a master craftsman to be. For someone who spent most of his life carefully honing his skills in the solitude of his workshop, looking for perfection in his masterpieces, he was too loud and too rough. He seemed more like an old soldier who spent his evenings drinking in a tavern.


    ¡°That''s impossible,¡± he finally said, sitting down on the stool I used earlier that Ebert brought to him. ¡°Jom wouldn''t have died to mere bandits...¡±


    I noticed Simila standing near the entrance to the store, and was a bit surprised that she was here too. She raised her hand in a simple wave as I looked over, and I smiled back to her.


    ¡°My thanks to you Master Gerard for showing my son into your workshop. I will be taking this set of knives back. Your apprentice Dalus''s craftsmanship is worthy of your pride.¡±

 Chapter 48: departures eve

    I covered my mouth as I yawned and rolled over on my bed.


    It was as if the more I wanted to sleep, the harder it became. I shrugged off the blanket that was unusually hot tonight.


    There was just too much that had happened today. Even though I needed to get up early tomorrow, since this was our last day in Gristol, my mind kept on wandering.


    I steadied my breathing. Departure would be at sunrise and I didn''t want to be tired when I finally got to ride with Saul and father on the road.


    Saul had even taken me out every morning since I met with the duke to go riding. Cinder and I were getting better every day and Saul thought I should be able to keep up just fine on journey.


    And there I go again...


    The wooden frame of the bed creaked as I sat up and brushed the canopy aside.


    If I couldn''t fall asleep, then I could at least do something useful until I felt sleepy again. I still had the big tome on Klistoss open on my desk. I wouldn''t be able to bring it back with us, not just because it was so heavy, but because father had borrowed it from the university. Ovelrun or Crasilla, the servants who would stay here in the manor in Seventhill to take care of it until our return would have to return it after we left.


    Fortunately, I had managed to read quite a bit. Unlike some weeks when Brendal would be bugging me all the time, he had left me alone the past few days. He had been sulking over the fact that I was getting to go riding every morning while he had to stay in the yard training.


    The title, "Reflections on the Role of the Oplarchs Previous to the Sijonal Establishment" was a good indication of how boring the tome read. It wasn''t even trying to describe the lizardmen, which I was more interested in, but talked about Oplarchs, which seemed to be some sort of chieftains.


    These chieftains had been forced to bend the knee by the first Sijon, or Duke of Klistoss. Even though he was called a Duke, among the Klisimians, he was more like a king, from how the book described him. He had put a stop to the constant in-fighting between the Klisimian Oplarchs that had continued even after they fled North to what is now called Klistoss.


    I fumbled a bit around my bedside table, feeling the cold metal candle stand and the small tin box beside it.


    Usually Simila or Ovelrun would bring a candle lit in the kitchen hearth if needed, but I had put mine out, thinking I would go to sleep. Sparks went all over as I scraped the flint and it took a few tries to get a small flame running in the tinder, but I was able to light a fire stick and set the candle alight before quickly putting it out.


    The unsteady light became a lot smoother on the candle wick and I tip toed to the desk, careful not to set the blanket around my shoulders alight.


    The tome was already open on the desk, so I just brought the candle close and squinted.


    I read a few words that reminded me why I had stopped earlier at this particular page. The author had decided to list ceremonies that the chieftains carried out for their tribes: mainly yearly festivals such as the water harvest or the lights of the dead and individual ceremonies such as the warrior''s baptism or funeral rites. The chieftains had taken care of most of the mundane ceremonies that had to do with the clan.


    Since the removal of the chieftains, however, the shamans, about which the tome spoke little, had taken on these ceremonies in addition to their other duties.


    I closed the book and rested my head back against the back of the chair as I yawned again.


    I wasn''t learning much of use from this, even though learning of the lizard men was interesting.


    I was eager to start the lessons Alust was supposed to give me, but Alust had told us he needed to prepare for the winter in Olwick and had stayed at the Duke''s palace after we left. Although I would see him on the way home, he didn''t seem to say anything about starting until we were back.


    I really wanted to know more though. Grandfather said Alust had some knowledge of curses, so maybe he would at least teach me some of the curses I had heard before and that I wouldn''t have to wait yet another year.


    "Every whisper, bark or knell, from lady, pup or rustworn bell," I whispered, reaching up to unlatch the shutters beside me.


    I had repeated those words, the first half of the incantation that I remembered from Nistan and the shaman so many years ago. But no matter how I tried, I couldn''t remember the rest of it among the painful memories of Grita''s death and the haze of recollection from that time.


    Ever since I failed at the sharpening spell from Sam though, I wanted to try one of the curses from this world.


    I wrapped the cover around my shoulders. Even though it was still early in the autumn, the night air was chilly, and seemed only colder against the distant sparkling stars.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I looked for the 4 stars that formed the Arrow pointing towards the Northern Trinity, 3 small twinkles that were nonetheless the centre of the north sky. I also looked for the dark smudge that should stain the purple-white cloud of stars crossing the sky called the Weave of Fate. For some reason, it was hard to even see the Weave in Gristol.


    I shivered and felt my eyes droop.


    I had not gotten much reading done, but as I latched the shutters closed and snuffed out the candle, I could hardly keep my eyes open anymore.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Tilly, wake up!"


    I groaned and put the cushion over my head at Brendal''s shout.


    "We''re leaving sleepyhead! Mother said to call you for breakfast!"


    I blinked open my eyes for an irritable moment before shutting them again. They felt dry and scratchy and had morning sand in them.


    There was also an outline of a tower, so faint one almost wouldn''t notice it, except that it was almost like a tattoo in it''s permanent part of my every morning.


    "Tilly, your brother''s right. You don''t have much time to eat," Simila echoed, probably telling me for the third time already.


    This was not just any terrible morning though. This was a morning much worse than usual. I vaguely recalled the magic potion that Sam''s memories offered as a solution unhelpfully. Made with a black bean of the Southern wilderness and enchanted for wakefulness and energy, it was a fixture of every man and woman in his world.


    ¡°Tilly? Are you getting up?¡±


    Even Ivian poked her head in.


    Holy Golden Sun of the Heavens Above, I hate morning people.


    It took a bit longer, but I finally got out of bed and made my way downstairs. I had little appetite and tried to ignore my mother''s worried glances.


    Then, once preparations were done and we were on the road, it just got worse.


    Instead of my imagined trip, horseback riding gloriously all the way to Bridgewater, I ended up sitting somewhat cramped between mother who we all gave space on one side and Alust''s son Orjel and Brendal to the other. Opposite us were Alust and his wife and daughter, looking somewhat awkward and embarrassed at sitting here.


    Somehow, nobody thought we''d have to arrange for my new tutor and his family of 4 to have their own carriage. Ovelrun and Byl had thought my grandfather''s servants were taking care of that and Alust thought we would have already been thinking of that.


    It was just so last minute all around and if anyone could have put things in order, it would have been the butler Lyum who had already gone on leave to sort out his own travel arrangements to Bridgewater.


    We didn''t want to hold up Pricel''s family, not to mention that because of the last minute invitation to see my grandfather, I had delayed the whole trip, and we already didn''t have any buffer in case of incidents on the road or bad weather if we were to make the funeral.


    In the end, we were stuck with Alust''s family, at least until Bridgewater where we would stop and have time to arrange another carriage.


    When I got to the carriage, everyone was already inside, and Orjel and Brendal were playing a game with cards on the bench beside mother.


    I only had myself to blame. I had to be practically dragged out of bed by Simila, after the second time I tried to go back for a quick nap after I got dressed. Saul hadn''t even greeted me before he sent me away from the stables, saying I was not fit to ride without a good night''s sleep.


    So I just got into the carriage and sat between Orjel and mother.


    Brendal and Orjel sure seemed to be hitting it off though, which I supposed was a good sign. I hoped my new tutor was as affable. But that was a worry for another day.


    As soon as the carriage started moving, I couldn''t hold back my yawning and drooping eyes.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Ow," I mumbled, not for the last time, as my eyes opened again to remove the elbow in my side. It was Orjel again. ¡°Can you not do that?¡±


    My neck was aching and my eyes still felt scratchy. At least I wasn''t on a horse outside though. I would have been even worse off.


    Orjel wasn''t even looking my way, but there was no way he accidentally kept on elbowing me when I was asleep. Ever since I met him, he seemed to be giving me a stink eye for some reason.


    Was he going to act ungrateful despite all my family was doing for his? What was my tutor Alust going to be like if his son was some upstart bully like this?


    ¡°Do what?¡± Orjel had been intentionally looking the opposite direction from me, but now he made eye contact. ¡°Look around you. I am squished here, so I will do what I want.¡±


    I felt a spark of anger flare up inside me, but just closed my eyes and breathed out slowly.


    I tried to ignore the boy and he gave me some space, turning back to his chat with Brendal. I tried to tell myself it was only a day. Tomorrow, I vowed to myself, whether I slept well or not, I would be on horseback for sure.


    I repeated to myself mentally that I this was all over today, hoping to go back to sleep. My mantra, however, was broken abruptly at the sound of Brendal''s muffled giggle over by the window.


    I kept my eyes closed but focused, trying to catch what Orjel was whispering in his ear through the clatter of the carriage and horses hooves.


    ¡°See that? I told him straight up what I thought. All you gotta do is say when you don''t give a shit. That''s all it takes.¡±


    This kid was a complete jerk. What did he even have against me? I just met him yesterday and saw him for the second time ever this morning.


    I didn''t say anything. What could I do? Start a fight with him when nobody else even heard him whisper? He may not come from a noble family, but he was the son of the tutor grandfather sent with me and he was somehow perceptive enough to notice Brendal''s childish rivalry with me. I could tell from Brendal''s giggle just how hilarious he thought this brat was.


    As I was brooding over our new companions, the carriage came to a stop.


    Much like on the journey to Gristol, we stopped in a tavern for a meal and a break from the road.


    As I stumbled out of the carriage into the dim and smelly stables, I noticed the Phranses had been riding not far behind us.


    Pricel and Delthimay both came out of a carriage much like ours, but with their three leaf flower in teal embossed on its door.


    Delthimay glared at me while Pricel looked away, much as I did. It might be better to avoid them for now.


    "Sister, perhaps we can sit together. It has been almost a year now, so we should really discuss the estate."


    Pricel and Delthimay''s father waved and walked towards us, dashing my hopes of avoiding my cousins.


    "Virtal," my mother and her brother embraced while Bera came up with the brats.


    "Hello Tilvrade, are you alright? Your eyes look very red," she asked me.


    "Thank you, Lady Phrans. I just didn''t have enough sleep last night. I will be fine after tonight," I saw Delithimay stick her tongue out at me from behind her mother as I responded innocently.

 Chapter 49: Bridgewater

    Thankfully, I was in shape to ride behind Saul and father after that first wretched day and our trip was only eventful for me, as I enjoyed following riding alongside the carriage or sometimes ahead.


    The road mostly went through thick forest, so Cinder and I had to stick to the dirt road. Still, it was pretty nice on horseback, and much brighter among the dappled sunlight playing over the carriage, father and the others in the shape of the gaps between the leaves.


    All in all, I was able to put the cramped carriage and that prick, Orjel out of my mind pretty quickly. I mean, it was already 2 days since then, 3 since we left Gristol and we were supposed to be getting to Bridgewater this afternoon.


    As the broad road curved out of the woods and merged with another path following the river bank,


    The river water ahead looked so clear that I wanted to jump in head first, but I held myself back as father and Saul just motioned forward to let the horses have a drink.


    "Look, over the river there is Leslie. We''re at the very Southern edge of Efeles now," father turned around to tell me. "You can even see Bridgewater ov-"


    Tuhrlrl tuhrlrl tuhrlrl tuhrlrl


    Father and I immediately looked towards the sound of trotting hooves in the woods behind us.


    It didn''t sound like the plodding of our little convoy, but like a galloping runner, or something worse.


    "My Lord! My Lord!"


    Tuhrlrl tuhrlrl


    The distant trots continued to beat, but were soon followed up by a shout from a man coming out of the conifers.


    "Please! We''re under attack. Please help my caravan fend off those bandits!"


    Tuhrlrl tuh tuh tuh


    "Bandits?" Saul cried as father unsheathed his sword. He turned to us and shouted to father, "What should we do? Give chase?"


    "How many of them were there?" Father shouted at the man.


    "There were 6 of them, all ruffians. If not for their numbers, my guards would have been able to take care of them! Please, my lord..."


    "Lord Sivis!" A call came from the third carriage in our group, where Pricel was travelling with his parents.


    "Lyum?" Father asked. It was Lyum Barker, who was riding beside the carriage driver. There were many unexpected guests this trip, so space was made even in another lord''s carriage.


    I wish he was in our carriage that first day instead of that brat Orjel. I guess he thought kids would get along...


    It wasn''t Lyum who responded though. He had hailed father, but just to buy time for the viscount, Virtal Phrans to get out of the carriage.


    "Sivis, ask him what company he is with. His name," the Virtal said.


    "Company, my lord?" The man responded directly to the viscount''s question, looking between father and Pricel''s father. "I''m- but I need help quickly, the bandits- I''m with the norther-"


    "Viscount? We have to hurry if we''re going to catch them," Saul interrupted as the man dithered. He seemed to still be ready to chase.


    "Do not. This is a bait." The viscount said, "The same must have happened to my father and your knight. They just want to split us apart."


    I felt a pang of fear as my eyes darted back to the ''merchant''. Now that I was paying attention, he wasn''t fat or skinny, as I imagined a merchant should be. He was bald and had arms that were as bulky as Crion''s father, the blacksmith in Olwick. Even more suspicious was the fur lined coat he was wearing, sumptuous enough for a lord but with a gash cut down the side. It wouldn''t have been strange if it had been ripped when it was stolen off its previous owner.


    "Lord Sivis!" the viscount shouted, "Take that man captive. This is our chance to find out what happened to my father."


    I patted Cinder on the neck, his short russet hair smooth downwards. He was stepping backwards and forwards after I put him on edge. I tried not to pinch down with my knees but also keep my balance. It was hard, particularly after riding him all day and most of the day yesterday. Plodding along seemed so easy at first, but today my butt was sore from yesterday and it made everything harder.


    "N-no, wait, this isn''t-"


    I looked back towards the man who was now looking around in panic as Saul dashed towards him, preparing to clash with him.


    He then tried to pull out his sword and defend himself, but he was slow where Saul was quick and decisive.


    "Surrender your arms!" Saul shouted and knocked him with his sword pommel right between the eyes.


    "Oaaagh!''


    "Sir Valedon, take his sword and dismount him. My guards can keep him between us until Bridgewater."


    It all ended within a few brief moments, father and Saul taking hand of the bandit.


    "Bound him and take him on your horse Karbrol," The viscount ordered one of the two guards who were guarding the carriage with Pricel and Lady Bera vis Phrans. I blinked as I recognised the name. It was a vague memory, but the old knight was the man who came to Olwick with Pricel years ago.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I heard the breathing in my ear and my heartbeats as father came up to put his hand on my shoulder, releasing some of the tension that had taken me.


    "That should be a lesson to both of us. If not for Viscount Phrans, I would not have noticed this was a set up either." He told me, "Fortunately, as it turned out, we might be able to get to the bottom of what happened to Jom."


    The procession kept moving along the road, flanked on one side by the forest trees and on the other by the river bank. The bank was rocky and muddy here and there and the river itself was very large, perhaps over a kilometre across.


    "Yes, I had been talking about that before hadn''t I?" Father spoke when he saw me looking at the far bank of Leslie. "Do you see the bridge?"


    I looked forward down the river bank where he pointed. There was a city on each side of the river, or maybe one sprawling on each side. The stonework of the buildings looked a muddy red in the sunlight. It was quite different from Gristol where everything was grey.


    Between the banks, there was an enormous bridge, slightly curved. It was too far to see much of it, but it was obviously huge.


    "That is one of the three bridges of Bridgewater and is the main passages from the South to the capital."


    I had always thought that mother''s family was fairly low of rank, considering how father and mother were treated. If they controlled such an important bridge and city though, they would have to be important.


    As we talked and got closer to the city, there were more and more people who we passed by on the road.


    "Look at this one, what do you think he''s carrying?" My father asked me, pointing at a wagon that had pulled over at the very edge of the road to let us pass.


    "I don''t kno-"


    "Believe me! I''m not the one you want! They were attacking me!" A muffled shout came from Karbrol''s horse ahead of us, stealing my attention back to him.


    He had thrown the man on top of his horse sparking more memories of Pricel and Nistan.


    "Is he saying the truth?" I asked father. "Did you hear? He might not be a bandit."


    "Tilvrade, don''t pay attention to that. Viscount Phrans knows best. And it''s wool.¡± I was momentarily confused as he continued stating. ¡°You can tell the wool merchants because of the rolls. They have to keep it bunched together so that it doesn''t fly off. Did you know that in addition to trade, Bridgewater itself produces much of the wool that we use in Farand? This is where many of your clothes probably come from."


    He was still talking about the wagon stopped on the side of the road to pass the other way. Wasn''t he worried about the bandit?


    "Stay quiet and stop complaining," Karbrol shouted, whacking the man with a horse crop. "The viscount is a man of virtue. If you are innocent we''ll get to the bottom of this."


    I winced. Did he have to hit him like that?


    I caught the eye of another boy who was standing by the road in a clean but patched and scuffed shirt. He was staring wide eyed at Karbrol until a man who was probably his father pushed his head down.


    Everyone stood at the side like that whenever we passed, avoiding the other knight of Viscount Phrans ahead who was shouting to clear the way. It was like that until the road opened up, another large road joining with it as the city started to loom around us.


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    Bridgewater was not what I expected at all. The stone buildings were big but seemed dark and there were almost as many people here as in West Gate, crying out vegetables and cheeses and other things in the marketplace.


    The main difference was really the stone with its ruddy hue.


    The Phranses lived in a mansion that dominated the centre of the city. It looked like two separate buildings with a gate between them to the courtyard behind. It was evidently a large mansion, but it somehow seemed less impressive than others I had seen.


    "Did you see the birdy?"


    I felt a warm shoulder tuck in under my elbow as Brendal stood on his tip toes to look out the window beside me. We were given a room together and were sent upstairs to get changed.


    He was pointing at a statue on a narrow but tall building on the opposite side of the square that the mansion faced.


    "It''s probably one of the guilds father talked about," I told him. "Did you get changed yet? Wait, you''re still in those shoes? You''re making a mess..."


    I sighed. This baby brother of mine. Just a couple days ago in the carriage, he was mocking me with his new friend behind my back, and now, with the excitement of a new room and whatever silly ideas of adventure in Bridgewater he had come up with, he seemed to think asking me questions and snuggling up to his big brother was the most natural thing in the world.


    "But I just had them on in the carriage. They''re such a pain to put on and take off..." he complained, oblivious to the labour that went into keeping the floors and carpets clean.


    Did he even need to put his own shoes on? I mean, I would have, but Simila usually was there to help me.


    I looked around. Simila was there, lazily running her finger along a picture frame. I guess Ivian and Simila had drawn lots and Ivian stayed behind to help unpack the carriage for us.


    I sighed again. Simila didn''t care about art, did she? Do they expect me to take care of my brother?


    "Come here Brendal. I''ll take your shoes off." I pointed at a wooden chair in the corner.


    I already felt exhausted after riding for two days, the longest horseback trip I had ever done. Now I had to take my brother''s stupid shoes off.


    Actually, they were pretty nice, brown leather shoes with pretty patterns along the seams. If not for the tuft of grass still squashed against the flat leather sole, he might have even looked respectable.


    Before I could stop him, Brendal ran over to the pretty upholstered chair that creaked a bit as he jumped on it. How did he even get mud and grass all over him sitting in the carriage?


    At least he listened to me and sat down. I decided my job was done with taking the shoes off and putting them beside the door. Someone else could worry about the muddy shoe prints on the floor.


    Thump thump thump


    "Excuse me, my lord. The tub has been filled," someone knocked and said from the other side of the door.


    Simila led us to the bath room and then left us to disrobe.


    I shivered, as I took off my shirt at the edge of the room, halfway between the lukewarm autumn air and the steam wafting over me from the bath tub. My feet were cold on the unfamiliar tiles, but I was grateful to be able to sink into hot water after a long day and with my sore thighs.


    The bath itself was quite different from the simple basin we had at home, made of wood almost like a large barrel cut in two. This one was made of metal, copper probably with its reddish hue. It was square, and would have fit 4 of me inside. On top, hanging from the ceiling, was a curtain, that had been rolled up, apparently not for our use.


    I tip toed over and took a deep breath as I anticipated stepping inside.


    ¡°Brendal,¡± it was just us two here and we had some time together as we relaxed, a tub of warm water and steady ground under our feet. ¡±Careful for Orjel, alright? He''s going to get you in trouble.¡±


    Brendal''s excited twitching as he poured water over himself paused and he unexpectedly seemed to think about what I said. Maybe he wasn''t merely acting as a brother today and had actually been feeling something off about how Orjel spoke. I could hope at least...


    "Tilvrade, Brendal," Simila called out just as my toes were sinking into the water. "You need to get dressed. Bath will be later."


    I blinked a couple times, looking over my shoulder at Simila who was letting a chilly draught in through the open door to the hallway.


    "Viscount Phrans has come to greet you. Your parents told me to bring you down."


    My jaw wobbled up and down. Not now! Come later! Leave me alone to take my bath!


    "Yes!" Brendal cried out, happy to rush back into his dirty clothes.


    He still seemed to dislike being scrubbed with soap or getting it in his eyes.


    ¡°Orjel''s cooler than you. I''ll do what I want, so there.¡±


    "Tch," I clicked my tongue as I walked back to where I had hung my clothes up. Orjel was definitely a bad influence.

 Chapter 50: merchant to lord

    I finally realised the reason why this mansion and the whole square outside seemed somehow less impressive than the mansions in Gristol.


    Everything was practical.


    Although this was comfortable, in that the brick-like stone walls were well insulated and the wallpaper and simple rush carpets were clean, the place also felt less noble than either grandfather or the Elafoz''s palaces that were more like museums made to display mosaic or shell encrusted walls and hanging tapestries among the incidentally corridor or room width halls.


    At the same time, it wasn''t quite like the country manor in Olwick either. Our manor was more like an oversize farm house, which is, I suppose, what it was. The rooms here, however, were definitely the house of a viscount. Meant for the quotidian use they were, the desks and drawers might not be lacquered or ornamented in the gaudy ways of the Edbrian wing in grandfather''s palace, but they were still polished and carved richly. The view over the town square from the second floor of the wing also hinted at the position the residents of this manor maintained.


    As we went down the stairs, I heard the throaty laughter of one of those residents, Pricel''s mother, Lady Bera vis Phrans. She was speaking to mother and father, who were both dressed formally in the entry hall.


    We went up to them and waited for them to acknowledge us.


    "Look who''s here. It''s your cousins Tilvrade and Brendal." Lady Bera turned to us. She was announcing our arrival not only to be congenial, but for Pricel and Dilthimay''s benefit.


    "Lady Bera, cousins," I bowed. There was a certain gravity in the air, part exhaustion from the day, part decorum of mourning. Still, Pricel smiled to me, even though Dilthimay was still sulkily avoiding eye contact.


    It was odd to think that my mother''s sister-in-law was Keiranian. Even Pricel and Dilthimay, for that matter, by blood.


    It was hard to notice, as Lady Bera had the same black hair and pale skin as anyone in Farand, but there was an accent to how she spoke. It seemed somehow more musical, a way she inflected the sentences and accented the middle of words, perhaps.


    ¡°How about we sit down,¡± she said, holding a hand politely towards the drawing room. I wondered how many drawing rooms they had. This was just the wing they had their guests staying in a few nights, wasn''t it? ¡°I thought we just wanted to check that you were all settled in, but...¡± she glanced sideways at her husband, ¡°it might be longer than I thought.¡±


    A moustached man who had just finished pouring a glass of a black liquid inside the drawing room looked up and bowed his head to me. It was Lyum Barker, the butler from Gristol. I nodded back as mother and the others filed by him. It seemed Lyum meant to come back out to the entry hall where father and the viscount were still speaking seriously.


    I didn''t usually pay attention to father''s conversations. He was mostly interested in the totally meaningless affairs of people who I never met or the goings on and numbers of the harvest or the finances in Olwick. Such conversations with Gregrick or the tax collector that time before he revealed his colours were something I was forced to listen to on those odd, whimsical days that father thought I should be learning about the fief. Whimsical, since he realised each time I was still just seven and gave me some space afterwards for a time again.


    Still, I was somewhat curious. The two men not only didn''t move towards the drawing room, they didn''t even seem to realise we were going there. And, surprisingly, I caught a couple words from them that had been on my mind for most of the past day.


    ¡°... that bandit we arrested on the edge of the forest. The Graisfor Company sent a man immediately to confirm he was one of theirs. - Oh, Mr. Barker, good man, you really should not though. You are our guest for the next two nights, I insist.¡±


    I felt suspended on a cliff as the viscount''s attention turned to the Duke''s butler who had brought glasses filled with the black something. Alcohol judging by the prickly smell.


    Was there such a thing as cursed liquors here too? It certainly looked the part...


    I had a sudden flash of memory about a time I was recovering in bed as the viscount took a big draught of the alcohol. He definitely seemed the son of the late viscount who offered me brandy when I was still two.


    ¡°I shall not stand on ceremony then, my lord,¡± Mr. Barker said with a certain humour in his tone, taking one of the three glasses he had poured for himself.


    I felt uncomfortable though. Mother had never taught me about etiquette with servants, let alone other nobles'' servants. Was there etiquette for that? Surely a butler making himself at home with a viscount was improper, wasn''t it?


    ¡°Saul could have gone to scout,¡± Father accepted a glass for himself, but brought the conversation back on topic. ¡°The man wasn''t a threat on his own, even if he were a bandit, at least not until he felt pushed into a corner.¡± Father seemed displeased.


    I was distracted, however, as Mr. Barker noticed me and winked as he took a sip from his tumbler.


    I blinked and hesitated but couldn''t help from grinning. The shameless butler was getting a kick out of drinking with the viscount. Or maybe out of the look of wistful regret I could see in the Count''s gaze, that looked not at father, but at the tumbler in Mr. Barker''s hands. Had he thought Mr. Barker brought him a refill?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Which all just meant that I was even more delayed in realising exactly what father had just said...


    The strongman with the ruined sumptuous fur-lined coat was not a bandit? Father suspected that the whole time? Did I hear that right?


    That didn''t make any sense. Were merchants supposed to have muscles like that?


    Wait, even more importantly, I had been wincing and complaining about the kicks and shouts Karbrol had been subjecting the man to, even thinking he was a bandit. Father had just said it was all deserved and ignored me to talk about the passing people. He had been lying to me?


    ¡°No, you don''t understand,¡± the viscount shook his head. ¡°It''s not that the man wasn''t a bandit, it''s the Graisfor Company-¡±


    ¡°Tilly? Come join us.¡±


    I was really intrigued now. The viscount was revealing a big conspiracy. And yet, mother decided on exactly that moment to call me.


    She was sitting in the drawing room. It didn''t even look like I was needed for anything. She probably only noticed me because I was standing in her line of sight of father in the entry hall.


    Or maybe it was because of Pricel. Unlike Dilthimay who seemed to have found something to talk about with Brendal over on the divan, the older boy was unexpectedly still standing just near me. He looked like he was waiting for me to turn, since he opened his mouth to say something.


    But I spared him just a quick glance before looking again at the suspense behind me.


    ¡°... nothing natural about my father''s murder. It''s them, I''m sure of it. It''s not as if it could be coincidence that there was an attack right after we passed through. How many bandit attacks are there?¡±


    I try to think of an excuse, some way to continue listening to the conversation.


    I could just ask father to let me in to their conversation. I am sure he would oblige. He might also change the subject away from conspiracy and death and resume his conversation with the viscount later.


    ¡°Tilvrade-¡± Pricel said, but the older boy thankfully noticed I was trying to get away and didn''t continue.


    Unfortunately father and the viscount didn''t continue to speak either. There was a pause as nobody spoke, turning towards me as I hesitated what to say.


    ¡°Just a moment, gentlemen,¡± a voice interrupted the awkward silence from an unexpected place.


    It was Lyum, the butler, who downed his liquor and walked up to me.


    ¡°Young master Tilvrade, Pricel. All this parlour talk must be boring you. How about you show this old man around the grounds and through the square?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s a good idea. You there, go get the other guests. What were their names again Cianna? There were two children I remember... Pricel can show the boys around the manor. Sitting in a carriage all day then laying about here isn''t good for their wellbeing."


    Fortunately, nobody saw me grimace when I heard of the other guests. Who wanted Orjel around?


    ¡°You don''t like them?¡± Pricel whispered to me.


    Okay, somebody saw me grimace. I lowered my head to hide my embarrassment, and hoped that nobody else noticed.


    ¡°No, mother, that''s fine,¡± Pricel fortunately made a nice suggestion, ¡°I''ll show Mr. Barker and Tilvrade through the square. We won''t be long.¡±


    I let out a breath of relief, but I also felt a bit of regret that I wouldn''t hear more of the viscount and father''s conversation.


    ¡°Actually, it was just a few years ago. Tilly was still a babe.¡±


    Oh please no. Hearing no more of their conversation is still better than hearing father start to talk about embarrassing baby stories...


    I felt my face flush in anticipated embarrassment as father started up his discussion again with the viscount, ¡°We stayed on the old road between Ibbergreen and Kervel. It was a... a tradition of sorts, Cianna liked the outdoors. I would not do that anymore though. I am uneasy with the Elafoz mostly, but I did approve of his denouncement of the King''s recent trade measures in the South. Whichever prince succeeds the throne in Keiran, we still need to trade or else common men will resort to other ways to feed themselves.¡±


    The viscount sighed as he swished around his tumbler. I also sighed, but in relief that father hadn''t said something shameful.


    We were already in the entry hall, so we didn''t really have to go anywhere. A maid came to take the butler''s tumbler and then ran up the stairs to get my coat. I kept my ears open in the meantime.


    ¡°To be honest, ever since I left to university, I haven''t had any dealings with the Phrans Company. Father never expected me to take it over, you see. Perhaps when he had quickly arranged my marriage to Lady Bera, when he found out we were acquainted during my university days. Although a minor noble, her family was Keiranian and wealthy. But one mishap after another, whether it was the King''s new tariffs or the assassination of the first Keiranian prince, who was Lady Bera''s family''s patron stalled his plans. So I don''t actually know about the Graisfor Company or bandits on the roads. All I do know is that there was something big enough going on that Count Niles was involved.¡±


    ¡°You are not inheriting the Company?¡± My father showed interest in the boring side of the conversation.


    ¡°No. Father knew Bridgewater was growing and wanted me to become a viscount in truth, not only in name. It was just after that whole matter of Cianna and you that he felt deep shame about.¡±


    ¡°Ahem... And the Company?¡± Father prompted, trying to move away from that sore point in his past.


    ¡°Well, my uncle and his son-in-law should actually be in Bridgewater now. They will stay here after the funeral to take over the company. I don''t know about what they intend for their shop in Leagona though.¡±


    Leagona was the largest city of the Leslie Sijony and the seat of Duke Leslie. It was named after Lake Leagh. Bridgewater was a hub of trade partly because of the river that was a tributary of Lake Leagh.


    ¡°I should probably ask-¡±


    ¡°Lord Tilvrade?¡± I blinked as the maid held out a pair of shoes to me. Oh right, we were going outside...


    I knelt and put on my shoes, they were the leather ones I got with Simila not so long ago when we went to South Gate.


    ¡°... -thing to suggest some unusual dealing. In fact, we had accepted precisely because Count Niles had made the suggestion.¡±


    ¡°Ah, now that you mention it, I remember father spoke of how frustrating Count Niles and his right hand man were when it came to his financial support back in the war. His right hand man was Sir Barker himself, the brothers-at-arms from Egradeen.¡±


    ¡°I only know Sir Barker from after the war. The duke took a liking to him and thought he would make a good example for his disobedient son. Hah, little did he know that Sir Barker''s dream was to live quietly as a carpenter...¡±


    ¡°I should like to hear your story, Mr. Barker.¡± the viscount then raised his glass towards the butler waiting beside me. ¡°Your brother was a modest man. How different would Efeles have been if Sir Barker had been the viscount and my brother-in-law never ran away from his inheritance for a merchant girl.¡±


    ¡°My lord, you do my brother too much honour. But we shall have to save that story for another night. The three of us shall see you shortly.¡±

 Chapter 51: mourning

    ¡°Aren''t you a servant? How could you be acting around father that way?¡±


    I asked Lyum, oblivious to the arrogant condescension that was laced in my tone.


    Seeing the old butler''s raised eyebrows, I frowned. He''s not even answering me? If not for the fact he was Sir Barker''s brother and had let me hear a bit more of the conversation just now, I would have told him to leave us alone.


    ¡°You took one of those black drinks and even teased the Viscount. He even said you were a guest.¡± I explained. Maybe he was just a bit slow.


    ¡°Young master,¡± Lyum said quietly. ¡°Your confusion is not entirely unjustified. But you forget that sometimes the word of a king''s slave is sometimes more powerful than that of a general. I am also the brother of a great knight, respected by many, including both of your fathers.¡±


    I gulped as I thought of what he said. Viscount Phrans might be a viscount, but he was new to the position, and his own father had risen to the position from that of a commoner in his own lifetime. My father was the diametric opposite: he had been the heir to one of the most powerful houses in the kingdom, and he fell from grace to become the lord of Olwick.


    ¡°It is for that very brother that we are all here in Bridgewater.¡± Lyum spoke quietly, and I didn''t even hear every word behind the clacks of our shoes on the stone stairs. ¡°Him and the viscount, who were murdered by vagabonds.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Pricel suddenly interrupted and we all came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs to the town square outside. ¡°Grandfather was already old, he would have lived what... 5? Maybe 10 more years? Why did someone kill him? Why couldn''t I...¡±


    Lyum cuffed him on the head just as he seemed about to break out in tears.


    ¡°Do not cry, young master. Even in grief, a gentleman must remain strong. Your grandfather was a man who took his fate into his own hands, rising to status without even compromising on those mercantile interests of his. Although I would urge you not to take on those ignoble pursuits, you still should be proud and conduct yourself like the heir to such a man.¡±


    The butler spoke tough, but he still put his hand back on Pricel''s head, tilting it so he could see his face.


    I thought of that day I met Pricel and his grandfather. It had been just the two of them, and the guards that is, who had visited us in Olwick.


    Perhaps Pricel was one of the closest to his grandfather in this family.


    ¡°It''s not like that,¡± Pricel said, now actually crying. ¡°I hated grandfather. I always thought it was because of him, because he stubbornly kept on being a merchant that we... that I...¡±


    ¡°Do not say that,¡± Lyum said, consoling the other boy. ¡°It is clear you did not hate your grandfather. I was not particularly close to my brother either. He was so much stronger and braver than I was, riding off to glory in battle while I toiled in the shadows. He was still my brother though, and I will grieve his passing tomorrow much as you will your grandfather''s.¡±


    ¡°But- but I couldn''t even tell him. That I wanted him to be there. Because I''m weak... It''s because of me...¡±


    I had only met the viscount the one time. Even though Pricel was close to breaking down, as Lyum mentioned his brother, my thoughts quickly shifted to the old man who had always been around.


    The twinkling Weave in the night sky, the subtle warmth from each other in the night breeze or whatever it was that made Pricel emotional did not hit me in the same way. Instead of melancholy and tears, I clenched my fist, thinking about those who killed our family''s retired knight.


    Maybe it was just because I didn''t have a strained relation with the old man. He always seemed pretty happy, in his gruff lonesome way.


    I wouldn''t shame Sir Barker by crying for him instead of avenging him.


    ¡°Graisfor,¡± I spoke out, ¡°You heard your father back there, right? They are the ones who did it.¡±


    I would make sure something happened. Jom Barker deserved justice. And, I thought about Fafi who we had left whining loudly enough that we heard her all throughout the morning that we left. Fafi deserved as much too.


    ¡°We can do it together,¡± I told Pricel, causing him to look at me in some hope. He had stopped crying now. ¡°I mean, hopefully our parents will find out what happened and punish the bad people, but if not, then we can do it, right?¡±


    Lyum sighed, interrupting even though it looked like Pricel wanted to say something.


    He just pushed me behind the back, doing the same to Pricel.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Come on, both of you. I know you were both close with the viscount and my brother, but they wouldn''t have wanted you to dwell on conspiracies and revenge. You both have bright futures ahead of you.¡±


    ¡°Mmh,¡± I didn''t agree, but how could I say I didn''t want to respect Sir Barker''s wishes? It''s true that he always talked about caring for Olwick, learning to build and craft, not just to be a warrior.


    ¡°Tilvrade?¡± Pricel asked hesitantly, ¡°I''m sorry.¡±


    I tilted my head to the side. Why was he apologising?


    ¡°I know my sister has been sulking over what happened with... with Geran. But I don''t want to see you two like that. I just want you to know I was grateful you took Delthimay away from that. I didn''t want either of you to see that.¡±


    I blinked at the sudden change in subject. Why was he talking about that now all of a sudden?


    I thought of the nobles standing around us and Black Rat, who I had met that night, thinking he was just a friend of the boy bullying Pricel.


    ¡°Uh, yeah. Don''t let that Geran guy push you around like that though,¡± I said. Pricel was a bit of a pushover. I don''t think he even trained or learned the sword. Still, he had just let Geran push him around right in the middle of a party and had continued to smile nervously so no one could point it out.


    ¡°Tilvrade?¡± Pricel was leaning towards me.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I''m sure father will find out what happened... But, I''ll try my best too.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°I don''t know what I can do... Geran and them... make life difficult sometimes... but I''ll be in Gristol soon to attend the university classes. I''ll hear more about what''s going on, maybe even learn about the King''s Justice or the history of Count Niles''s family. I''ll try to help, so... I hope you make up with Delthimay, alright?¡±


    ¡°Well, it''s not as if I have anything against Delthimay. She was the one that started it...¡±


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    After clearing that up, we didn''t really do much else. We just sat on the fountain in the square keeping our thoughts to ourselves.


    Pricel said he would talk to Delthimay, so maybe that annoyance would be behind me.


    While we were sitting there though, another visitor arrived.


    The first sign of it was the clattering of the wood and stone from the road we had come by. That was the main road, though they could have they come from Gristol or Leslie over the bridge.


    A majestic carriage rolled into view from behind the other large building, which was probably a council or guild. It was Count Yse''s emblem on the door, and there were 8 horse back knights in armour riding in front and behind.


    The image was just a bit ruined by the streaks of mud , particularly just behind the wheels that must have been from the journey.


    ¡°We better go back to join your parents. It seems Count Yse has finally arrived.¡±


    Lady Yse was so different from Lady Phrans. Where Lady Phrans was demure, my father''s half-sister was almost brash. She almost leaped out of the carriage as soon as it stopped, doffing her wide brimmed hat that she pushed into Ivian''s hands, since there were few other servants around.


    As she kissed her brother and greeted the viscount, her dress, bright coloured and free flowing swirled around her like a summer breeze.


    I shivered just looking at it. I was chilly with my coat on.


    ¡°Nephew!¡± She then spoke up across the courtyard, before even greeting mother or the others right there in front of her. Lyum had just led us back in, hurrying back from our respite outside.


    ¡°Lady Yse,¡± I bowed, still an awkward distance away for such a greeting.


    ¡°Nonsense, you should call me Aunt Marian. We are family, are we not?¡±


    I was beginning to feel somewhat put on the spot. Although I remember father speaking of letters from this aunt of mine over the years, I had only ever met her twice, and almost in passing, as both times were at larger gatherings.


    ¡°Aunt Marian.¡± I dipped my head slightly again, but she bent down a bit to give me a hug instead.


    There was an oddly nostalgic perfume on her, but I couldn''t quite remember what it was. I couldn''t get it out of my head though as I started to see phantoms of Sam''s. Phantoms, within phantoms, actually, as I saw that strange flickering image hanging from the giant floating sphere in the sky.


    It wasn''t the first time I had seen it. Often that very place, something like a town square judging by the people in it would flash through my mind, but the phantom there this time was not smiling blandly talking about some event, but rather a woman with water dripping down mostly bared skin who was drinking a bright orange liquid from a... tin, not so different from the kindling tin I kept in my travel bags.


    Some part of me wanted to look away. Ivian and Simila had taught me when I was young that I couldn''t follow them into their room. It was basic propriety. The only women I had seen with so little on before were the ugly ones in South Gate and mother, when I was still a baby.


    But I couldn''t look away, just dispel the illusion and follow Lyum and Pricel back behind our parents.


    I watched Lady Yse a bit longer, suspicious of what link she had to the undressed women and the hologram in the Royal Lucian Square.


    Ah, I blinked, that''s what it as, a hologram. It was the same as the projections called virspheres, except this one was much bigger and stuck in place in the centre of Sam''s city.


    ¡°Fat dweeb,¡± Delthimay then interrupted my staring, making me double take. What did she say? She had just whispered it almost as if to herself, but I still heard her clearly. ¡°First he sneered at me and now he''s sucking up to the Countess like that.¡±


    I felt a pang of apprehension as I thought that maybe she was talking about me. But then I saw she was looking right at Orjel who was currently bowing courteously.


    ¡°Ough, uff, ghff,¡± I coughed to hide my outburst of laughter.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Delthimay asked


    ¡°Yes, I''m alright.¡± I responded, ¡°I just... well, I don''t know what his problem his either...¡±


    ¡°You mean you heard that?¡±


    I smiled, ¡°Orjel was being a pain in the carriage. He elbowed me whenever I was about to sleep.¡± I told her.


    ¡°Wait, don''t tell me you just let him get away with it. You''re going to end up like my brother.¡± She said, and there was a hint of anger in her voice.


    ¡°That''s kind of unfair,¡± I said but I was just mumbling by the end of the exclamation.


    Just a moment ago, I had been telling Pricel not to let Geran push him around, but I had just admitted to letting him bug me and not doing anything about it. Wasn''t I the one being unfair to Pricel?


    Still, Orjel hadn''t really done all that much. Maybe nothing else would happen. I would take some lessons from Alust over the winter and then maybe I won''t even see him again anyway.

 Chapter 52: Sir Barkers funeral

    "Come sit with me," Aunt Marian patted the hard marble seat beside her.


    Unlike in Olwick, today we were seated in a domed building. Above us, was a large skylight not protected by anything. Some of the drizzle of the rain that started falling this morning was coming through it and dusting us with moisture.


    I looked at her and nodded, then grabbed mother''s hand.


    "Can we go to sit with Aunt Marian?"


    Mother looked down at me, but shook her head. "It wasn''t me she invited. Go on. She wants to see her nephew. I''ll be right here for you if you need me," mother winked at me and stood up to let me pass by.


    We had come this morning to the Temple of the Dawn that was up the river, almost outside of the city, south of the bridge. The inside of the temple was circular, and descended in steps, which doubled as seating, to an altar in its centre and deepest point.


    There, the two coffins, one larger and displayed on top of the altar, the other on a shorter table beside it, were opened up.


    The face peeking out of the coffin on the shorter table didn''t really look like the Sir Barker I remembered. His crown of hair and his wild beard had all been shorn off. His rough skin was a pasty white. Of course, I knew from what father and Saul told me about hunting and the larder that bodies would decompose. It was, in a certain sense, surprising that Sir Barker was even still there and whole.


    "Hello Tilly," Lady Marian pat my head as I sat down beside her.


    I flinched, as I felt my aunt''s touch on my hair. My back straightened and I looked at her, that oddly alluring scent filling my nose.


    "Lady Marian, it is an honour."


    "No need to be so stiff, nephew. This is already a day of sorrow and formality. You can be at ease with me at least. Let us support one another through this sad time."


    "As my wife says, Tilvrade. Please feel among family." Aunt Marian''s husband, the Count of Valeford was sitting just beside her. He held his hands out towards me and I was ashamed that it looked like I hesitated before clasping his wrists, taken off guard by the sudden gesture.


    "Count Yse."


    "Nephew."


    It was a great honour for the Count to offer his wrists. Clasping arms was a greeting for equals or usually for family, not something that was commonly done amongst nobles, except perhaps after a duel.


    It was a slightly awkward greeting for me though, as one of his bracelets under his coat sleeves poked into my arm. I didn''t say anything though and moments later, he looked back to his right to speak with another older man as Aunt Marian motioned for me to sit beside her.


    Everyone was seated on the hard marble ledges and not chairs or any special seating, but the Count and Lady Marian both had cushions and were on the very bottom ledge, right near the altar.


    "I hear there were troubles on your way to Bridgewater, but you are alright?" Aunt Marian asked me, patting my head again.


    Despite wanting to pay my respects and honour Sir Barker who had taught me so much, it''s not as if I didn''t want to sit with Aunt Marian and Count Yse. I would maybe have preferred the affectionate pat another time, but I was still happy she worried over the bandit yesterday.


    "No, it wasn''t trouble really. Just a bandit, but father and Saul took care of him quickly."


    "I heard the man was right near you when the fight started," she insisted.


    I was rather near him, but I don''t remember much fighting.


    "I guess..." I said, "I think I could have taken him out if Saul didn''t though."


    He seemed like a bit of a pushover. Even though he had bulky arms, he had hardly even managed to parry Saul''s single slash.


    Seated now, I looked around as Aunt Marian laughed delicately. From each of the three 4 doors of the temple, men and women streamed in mostly to take seats near the top and highest ledge.


    Why was there such a big Church to the Golden Sun here in Bridgewater? Mother definitely wasn''t religious but she grew up here, didn''t she?


    It seemed weird to me.


    "Tilly? Sorry, I didn''t mean to tease you." Aunt Marian leaned towards me. I must have missed something she said while looking around. "Did something catch your eye?"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "I thought the Church was Keiranian. Why do we have such a big temple here?" I asked her.


    "You weren''t taught about the Elafoz?"


    I tilted my head in puzzlement. "I know about the Elafoz?"


    "No, not who he is. Of course I heard about you meeting His Highness Grairin Mershunt," She placed three fingers on my arm while leaning down to whisper. "The Elafoz, Wikhem Mershunt, second king of Farand. The elves granted to him the title and the rights of trade that still make our kingdom prosper today."


    I had learned about Wikhem Mershunt before. Although he was the second king of Farand, he was in many ways more the founder of Farand than his father who had sent him north to make ties with the elves and the Ibolidor. It was not a secret that the first king was more merchant than warrior, following his son North only after he smelled gold in Northern trade.


    I hadn''t known that there was more to it than that though.


    "For the Elafoz''s assistance fighting their enemies, the elves shared their knowledge and strength. Fortunately, they gifted to us the Arcanum. Well, not that anyone outside the direct succession of the royal family know exactly what the Arcanum is, but it was based on this text that the kings of Farand revealed that the Two Suns are false gods."


    "You mean the Church of the Sun is lying?" I was a bit shocked, considering there did seem to be some things that I resonated with in the Church of the Sun''s psalms. I was wary of the Church, since meeting the Klisimian envoy and learning they were from Keiran, but if Sam thought there was something special about the Golden Sun, I had faith in his instincts.


    "Lying?" Aunt Marian pinched her lips, "Not lying. Just... true to its... intent, you could say."


    "Uh," I tried to think about what she meant, "you mean because the Church is loyal to Keiran?"


    My voice trailed off as I noticed my aunt''s dainty smile break into a disdainful curl of her lips.


    "Listen nephew." She whispered to me, seemingly much more candid than before. "The Church is a yolk to harness both the nobles and the serfs to ignoble ends. And it''s not just the Church. This kingdom we live in is not as glorious as you think. Whether here or Keiran, we extol the virtues of nobility, discipline, sword and strengthening, harvest and hard work... these are the same values behind the Church of the Sun."


    That all sounded good to me...


    "I can see what you''re thinking. It sounds worthy, does it not? And yet, it is in these platitudes that all of us are enchained. Whether for marriage or combat or thankless tilling and toil, we train and suffer all our lives just to be discarded as pawns."


    I nodded slowly, as my shoulders tensed and eyes opened. Inside, I was shaken by her words. Her sudden drop of tone to a whisper and the passion she put into her close to treasonous words were hard to understand and dark.


    Someone had to work, and who would protect us from screechers or bandits if we didn''t train and fight?


    "You might think nobles have power. Maybe some, like my father do." She whispered a bit less strongly. "But as for the rest of us, we only kid ourselves as we sacrifice our lives. As I''m sure you know, a knight''s training is not easy, and the Church supports humility and hard work, and makes us believe it''s for a greater cause beyond throwing it away at the King''s summoning. The inner echelons of the Church of the Sun might very well be influenced by Keiran, but that''s not the real problem. They are just preachers of fiction that limit us, put us under a greater power.¡±


    Just then, a young man stopped at the lowest ledge just near me and bowed to someone coming down the stairs. I looked around and saw an older woman hobbling down the stairs to stand in front of us. She let out a loud huff of exertion, some of the other men and women on the seats behind and above us looking over.


    "Lady Overhill, it''s a pleasure to see you here." Aunt Marian also noticed the older woman and hurriedly stood up beside me to greet her.


    I looked between the two women and noticed the subdued surprise in each of their expressions.


    "Lady Marian, Count Verbon," the older lady replied. "Congratulations on your birthday."


    The count also stood to greet Lady Overhill, but I didn''t see any smiles on either the count or my aunt''s faces.


    "An honour, Lady Overhill," aunt Marian''s husband replied meekly.


    "And who is this?"


    I had of course stood up as well, careful to stand beside aunt Marian, so as not to be in the way. Fortunately, there was no one sitting on the innermost ledge around the wide altar space, so there would have been room even for another person there. Well, as long as none of them were wearing one of the enormous dresses such as Lady Overhill did in front of us.


    "Tilvrade got Olwick," I bowed, as aunt Marian hadn''t made any move to introduce me.


    I wondered who she was that even the count seemed quite careful around her. Although it looked rather clumsy, I felt almost a kinship with this older woman who wore the old fashion of dress, seeing as many of mother''s friends in the capital still hadn''t switched over either.


    When I looked up again though, the older woman seemed to be sneering at me.


    I had bowed, introduced myself, been polite and not presumptuous. What had I done wrong?


    "My nephew, Lady Overhill," aunt Marian quickly interjected, taking a half step back, perhaps trying to cover for whatever mistake I made or disassociate herself from me.


    Lady Overhill looked back at aunt Marian and her gaze wandered around the temple. She seemed to be thinking about who to greet next as she saw Pricel''s father, the lord of Bridgewater and his family.


    But just then, her head turned back towards us and she frowned as she looked at me again.


    "Oh, your nephew. He''s that boy, is he?"


    I saw her steal a quick glance once more behind her, this time where mother and father were sitting, glancing towards the four of us, standing here.


    "Isgon, I''ll join them here. Too many stairs in this horrid place. I''m sure an old lady like me will be forgiven for sending condolences after the ceremony."


    The young man from earlier, who seemed to be both servant and bodyguard, placed another cushion down next to where I had been sitting and I realised with trepidation that this old lady had decided to sit beside us.


    "Your presence with us is an honour Lady Overhill," Aunt Marian said, not showing any of the discomfort I am sure was on my face. "Will Count Jerstein be joining us too then?"


    "Unfortunately my son has pressing matters to attend to and could not make it. I am here on behalf of the family to send our respects," I saw the older lady''s lips whiten somewhat as she pressed them together momentarily.


    But as they talked about this Count Jerstein, I tensed even further. I knew that name. The Jersteins were one of the most powerful families of Leslie. Mother had taught me about the Dukes and Counts of all the duchies in Farand. That wasn''t what was important though. Mother had also told me while talking about the Jersteins that my grandmother was called Kerstilla Jerstein, but I had thought she died a long time ago.