I’m fully able to enjoy the Harvest Feast this year, being almost two years old. And then the sky turns red and monsters emerge from wherever it is that monsters emerge from. My family is present and accounted for, aside from the ones who aren’t, and everyone’s ready to roast some monsters whether in combat or the kitchen.

“I’ve scryed our surroundings,” says our resident Oracle, Aunt Heather. “I’m detecting vampire bats, mostly Elite rank, so anyone Basic rank is going to need to stay indoors unless accompanied by an Elite. Outside the walls, I’ve spotted Basic-rank skeletons and some wraiths as high as Epic rank. Get weapons and spells prepared for dealing with semi-corporeal undead.”

“Anything edible out there?” asks Aunt Myrtle.

“Not that I can see this year,” Aunt Heather says. “Just undead types.”

“Pity,” Aunt Myrtle says. “Well, we’ve got plenty of food stockpiled so we should be fine, but the Winter Feast might be leaner this year than usual.”

For my second birthday, I receive more clothes and a new puzzle. Grinning, I eagerly set to work on putting it together right away. Mom comes to ‘help’ but mostly just watches and lets me find my own pieces.

With me turning two and Burdock turning seven, we’re moved to our own room away from our mothers and sisters. The Hearth is crowded this time a year, but an elderly uncle I didn’t really know died so us boys are getting his room. Our new room is in the north wing, closest to the barn and the school. This will be convenient for Burdock, and me once I start attending lessons, but it also means our window view includes terrifying devil-goats.

Burdock has a secret, and it’s not just what class he picked. He got a quest, and he and Lily snuck out behind the school building that nobody told me was there right beside the barn with the creepy goats. I suppose they didn’t figure I would need to go there until I could, you know, read and write and sit still through lectures. I can already read but I’m not letting on that I can yet, so I suppose I’ll have to wait a few years before I can devour every book in the village like Daisy did.

If we weren’t in a room by ourselves and he were still stuck with his mom, he wouldn’t be able to hide it very well. As it is, the big speckled egg the size of my head gets wrapped in woolen blankets and stuffed under his bed.

“I hope Lily doesn’t tell on me,” Burdock says. “Mom will flip!”

“Won’t someone notice once it hatches?” I ask. “What’s going to hatch from it?”

The egg has a red aura around it like a monster. As much as I like my cousin, I would prefer not to get my face chewed off by a baby monster in my sleep.

“Dunno,” Burdock says. “But Corwen gave me a quest for it, and I’m sure Corwen wouldn’t tell me to do something that would hurt us.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. “This was a gift from Corwen! I’m sure Grandma Laurel would understand, even if your mom might not. She knows all about monsters. She could tell us what it is!”

Burdock grouses. “I dunno… What if she wants to take it away? This is my monster.”

“Grandma Laurel wouldn’t do that unless it’s dangerous,” I say, then pause. “Prolly not even if it is dangerous. You know how she is.”

“I guess that’s true,” Burdock says, perking up a little. “Alright. Let’s go see our grandma.”

Skill acquired: Persuasion (Diplomacy)

An unexpected bonus that I really ought to start expecting. I’ve lived in a world of magical status boxes for two years now. I should start getting used to seeing them pop up regularly.

We retrieve Grandma Laurel from the hearth and tell her we want to talk to her in our room, and she humors us and comes along.

“Is this about your class, Burdock?” Grandma says. “You hoping to become a Beastmaster like me?”

“I dunno yet but…” He surreptitiously makes sure the door is shut and lowers his voice. “Corwen gave me a quest for a monster egg.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Grandma says. “A familiar to go along with your new class! Where is it? Let’s go get it. Or would you rather run the quest with someone Elite rank so you get more experience?”

“I already did the quest with an Elite and got the egg,” Burdock admits, pulling it out from under his bed.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ah, now there’s a beauty,” Grandma says, cradling the egg on her arms.

“Do you know what will hatch from it?” Burdock asks.

Grandma chuckles. “Certainly, but why spoil the surprise? She’s healthy and will hatch on the New Year and if you keep her close like under your bed there, she will bond with you as your familiar when she sees you.”

“It’s a she?” Burdock asks. “She isn’t some sort of undead, is she?”

“No, just a regular monster, and not a huge one either,” Grandma says. “Not terribly dangerous, but I’m sure she’ll prove very useful. Go ahead and keep her wrapped up warm under your bed until the end of December.”

“Will my mom be mad at me?” Burdock whispers trepidatiously.

Grandma snickers. “Li’l Maggie needs to lighten up already.”

“Auntie’s name is Maggie?” I ask.

“Magnolia,” Grandma says. “And if I’d known she’d wind up with such a stick in her behind, I wouldn’t have named her after a tree. Don’t tell her I said that.”

----------------------------------------

Another dark season passes, and Burdock is practically vibrating with anticipation for the hatching of his egg. When the first day of the year 732 comes, we’re prepared with Grandma Laurel watching over to make sure nothing weird happens. In the meantime, she has taken the opportunity to teach Burdock some basic information about monster care and how familiars work.

The speckled egg quakes and cracks, and a paw reaches out of the shell before it disintegrates entirely. A perfectly dry fluffy little monster sits where the eggshell shards should have been.

It’s a kitten. Large enough to be an adult cat, but definitely proportioned like a newborn. A gray tabby, looking very much like the more ordinary hearth cats, but four ears and a trio of glowing green eyes mark her as clearly a monster.

“Oh, aren’t you beautiful,” Burdock says. “I name you Mipsy!”

“A cat?” I say. “Cats don’t hatch from eggs.”

“This one did,” Burdock says.

Grandma Laurel chuckles. “Monsters don’t always play by the same rules. You see how she just absorbed what was left of the egg?”

The monstrous kitten curls up in Burdock’s lap, purring loudly.

“I got a box telling me we’re bonded now!” Burdock says. “Now that I have a familiar, maybe people won’t think I want to be a Hearthkeeper just because I’m a [Nurturing Child].”

“There’s a lot of paths you can take from [Nurturing Child],” Grandma says. “You don’t have to take any of them you don’t want to. Why don’t we go out to the square and introduce Mipsy to everyone?”

Burdock’s eyes widen, and he holds the kitten to his chest protectively. “Maybe later.”

“Be aware, a normal kitten would be grown in a year or two,” Grandma says. “But a familiar is tied to your vis. She will share your lifespan and won’t reach her adult form until you turn 21. If she dies, you can bring her core back to the Hearth and Corwen will respawn her. If you die, she dies.”

“I’ll try not to die,” Burdock says.

----------------------------------------

Burdock’s familiar turns out to be a nightmare to share a room with. Mipsy is full of energy and is as playful and destructive as any kitten. Any time Burdock isn’t paying attention to her, she’s getting into something.

That’s not always such a bad thing for me, though, as she does make a good distraction. I am nowhere nearly done with getting into mischief and there’s only so many years I will be able to get away with stuff by being a toddler before people expect me to know better. While people are busily paying attention to the cat or the younger babies, I see about finishing filling out my mental map of Corwen Hearth. And hoping that I actually get a skill for it at some point.

That’s when I discover that there’s a secret room underneath the central tower, accessible through a chute in the kitchen. There’s probably a real entrance, but it’s into the garbage chute with this curious toddler who has complete faith in Corwen to not incinerate curious toddlers. I slip in while Aunt Myrtle is trying to shoo away Mipsy with a broom, heedless of how gross it might be.

I land in a pile of offal in a room lit only by a glowing azure orb. It looks much like the huge one in the sky, but it’s only the size of a golf ball and sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room.

Congratulations! You have discovered the core room of Corwen Hearth. Skill acquired: Search (Secret Rooms)

Ah, a skill, nice! What is this? The… core room?

Corwen Hello, Drake!

I take a closer look at the small orb. Oh, that’s you, then, Corwen?

Corwen Yes. You have found my secret core room. An admirable effort.

I do hope there’s another way out of here because it might be hard to climb back up the way I came down.

Corwen Of course. But it was bold and daring of you to take the route you did. You are welcome to leave by the regular ladder when you are done admiring my visage.

I brush myself off a bit, but I’m definitely going to need a bath and a change of clothes. Why are people throwing garbage into the core room?

Corwen doesn’t answer my query with a system box, but by the trash I’m standing in dissolving into nothing, including the goo that tried to seep into the wool of my clothes.

Maybe not entirely nothing. With my [Clairvoyance] skill, I can see that the vis in this room is behaving rather oddly. Like a slowly circling whirlpool, all the vis in the area is funneling directly toward the crystal in the center of the room.

And… there’s something else there. Something that isn’t vis. I can’t quite see it at first, even straining my senses, but it acts like a counterpoint to the vis in the air. I can track its movements by seeing where the vis isn’t. It’s especially dense right around the crystal core itself. Actually, I think the core is made of this stuff, just in a more solid form.

I watch for a little bit longer to see what I can learn before climbing back up to the ground floor to see whether or not I’ve gotten in trouble again this time.