Corwen is different without its Legendaries and [Elder Hearthkeeper]. (And Legendary monster horse. I think someone mentioned that the huge flying galleon has an entire stable in it.) In some ways, it’s quieter because Grandma Laurel was always boisterous. In others, it’s noisier because Aunt Myrtle isn’t here to keep the kids in line. They don’t listen to Aunt Magnolia the same way they did to her.

So when Griffin decides clothes are the worst thing ever and he’s done with them, it takes three people to wrangle him and put pants on him. Aunt Myrtle would have simply pretended he wasn’t there and refused to let him eat anything. Now he’s just grumpy rather than shamed.

Without our Legendaries, the two highest ranked people in the Hearth are a couple of Epics that I don’t know very well. I have entirely too many aunts and uncles to actually get to know all of them, especially given the amount of time I spend traveling and reading.

Burdock will be turning 12 this year, and he’s nervous about making Elite. If there’s one unfortunate thing about this family, it’s how pressured children feel to push themselves to rank up.

“I have no idea what I’m going to do to make Elite,” Burdock says, petting Mipsy. The four-eared monster cat is asleep on the bed beside him (and takes up a good bit of the bed), but makes a mrring sound and curls up on her side.

“You’ve still got time. You’re only 11 still,” I say, not glancing up from examining my drake plushie with [Psychometry].

“Yeah, but then I’ll need to learn some magic skills before I turn 14 and I’ve got to have time for that.”

“What sort of skills do you want to learn?” I ask.

“Thommagerty sounds fun,” Burdock says.

“Thaumaturgy,” I say reflexively.

“Right, that,” Burdock says. “Did you see how Apple did things just by waving her hands? I don’t think I’d be good at Sorcery like your mom. I’m no good with emotions.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” I say.

“I wanna do a dungeon!” Griffin exclaims, coming into the room brandishing a 20 cm long wooden ‘sword’ I’d made for him. “I’m gonna fight lots of monsters and get real strong!”

“You’ll need to ask your mom about that,” I say.

“Aw, but my mom will just say no. I’d rather ask your mom about it. She’ll take us, I’m sure!”

The five-year-old boy is undeterred, and runs off presumably to ask my mom to escort us on a dungeon run. Who will hopefully inform Aunt Hazel and not just sneak us out during the dark hours.

It’s summer before anyone acquiesces to us going out again, and we’ll be heading to the Hedge Maze. Hopefully without any kidnappings this time around. The party is comprised of me, Burdock, Juniper, Griffin, and Willow, being chaperoned by Anise and Meadow.

We hold back and let the younger ones take a shot at the puzzles first, and only step in when they seem stumped or there’s a puzzle obviously aimed for me. Griffin tackles a whack-a-mole section with squirrels popping out of fallen logs, and is rewarded with a chest containing some coins and a small piece of heartwood.

“What’s this?” Griffin wonders. “A stick?”

“It’s a crafting material,” Anise says. “Better than a normal stick.”

Griffin looks unconvinced, and passes it to me. “You’re the crafty one here. You take it.”

Next up is a puzzle involving matching colors of flowers, and it’s Juniper who figures out the solution this time. Finally, the last puzzle we encounter before the talking tree at the end is the set of mirrors I encountered before. I suppose there’s only so many puzzles the Hedge Maze has. This time, the challenge has been upped with squirrels who try to move the mirrors after they’ve been positioned, and Griffin has to ward them off with his little practice sword.

(I’d feel bad for the squirrels, but they’re monsters with red auras and clearly put here to be whacked.)

The gate opens, and we’re greeted by the talking monster tree, who wants us to play cards again. I dislike Leaves and am not very good at it, and the kids are even worse. Except Griffin, who stole my lucky star necklace again when I wasn’t looking and seems to be getting perfect draws. Needless to say, the cheating five-year-old beats all of us and receives a basic starter deck of his own for the trouble.

Your party has completed the Hedge Maze. Skill acquired: Tending (Babysitting) Your Charisma has increased to 20.

Great, I got a skill for escorting small children through a dungeon. I suppose it will come in handy if I ever need to escort large children through a dungeon.

I locate the core room on the way out for the bonus chest and to have a small chat with the dungeon core.

[Thanks for the skill and attribute, Hedge Maze!] I think.

Hedge Maze You are most welcome!

[Why do you let outsiders into your core room, anyway?] I wonder.

Hedge Maze Not just anyone. I’m a vassal to Corwen, so I only let Corwens in here. Anyone else would have a much harder time finding it. Don’t worry about me! Corwen will protect me even if something awful happens, so I can keep making its children happy!

I suppose there’s not much I can do but take it at its word, so I just collect my loot and leave. Just a handful of coins and an acorn. I’m sure this will be great if I want to grow an oak tree. Once back at camp, I spend some time analyzing it.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Category Plant Type Tree Stage Seed Rank Basic Aspect Potential

I guess this is a magic acorn? I’ll have to show it to one of the plant experts when we get home. For the moment, I just show it to Meadow, whose only response is, “Yep, that sure is an acorn.”

I’m not sure that I want to be a tree guy. If I were to grow trees, it would be with the purpose of turning them into a ship later. And I’m quite sure, thanks to my [Psychometry] skill, that if I were to plant and tend to a tree, it would wind up with a good bit of my essence embedded in it. It has already accumulated a little thanks to it dropping for me and me handling it, but I’m sure at this point I could still pass it off to someone else. Building and flying a skyship made of wood from a tree I planted and raised myself might give bonuses to something, I suppose.

Savannah, Meadow’s mom, is an Epic Druid, so she’s naturally who I go and talk to once I arrive back at the village. I show her the acorn and tell her my thoughts.

“There are skills that you can learn to shape wood without actually cutting down the tree,” Savannah says. “By the time this tree grows large enough that you could build a skyship out of it, you’ll have plenty of time to learn them. I can teach you once you reach Elite, and there are classes on it at Crux Academy.”

“Huh,” I say. “Magically shaping wood… actually sounds like something that would be really useful as a crafter.”

Savannah nods in agreement. “There are also skills for stone, metal, and so forth. As a Druid, I’m mainly focused on plants and weather.”

I plant the tree behind the workshop and put up some marker stakes with a sign that reads, “Magic acorn. Do not eat.” I’m not sure if squirrel monsters can read, but at least the humans will have no excuse. (And any goblin that visits probably knows Common. Though sadly, it turns out it only magically confers the ability to read if you could read in another language, and Goblin had no written language.)

…

It’s September, and the teenagers who attend Crux Academy are returning by flying school bus. When I notice it coming in, I climb up to the docking tower to examine the skyship. Since I last saw this particular ship, I’ve added [Psychometry] to my repertoire and am interested in seeing what it says.

Category Object Type Vessel Race Human, Aranea Materials Wood, Spidersilk Quality Good Rank Heroic

You have analyzed a Heroic vessel. Your Clairvoyance (Psychometry) skill has increased to level 2.

Something flashes in my psychic vision at the same moment I receive the notification. Did I just see experience fly through the air at me? I see. It’s the fourth state of magic! Like fire, lightning, or plasma. This time it came while I was specifically using a skill for sensing those sorts of things. I wish I could keep it up at all times, but it’s Inspiration-hungry enough at the moment that even my decent-sized meter can’t keep it going for long.

Daisy emerges from the ship along with a white-haired (with black roots showing) pregnant woman who after a moment I recognize as Lily. I don’t know if they’ve heard about our ancestor’s visit and our grandmother’s departure yet. (Grandma Laurel’s kids are Kestrel and Magnolia. Kestrel’s kids are Anise and Hazel, and Magnolia’s are Lily, Daisy, and Burdock. In case you weren’t keeping a family tree here.)

“Did you pick your class yet?” Burdock asks.

“I’m not quite 21 yet, but I’m pretty sure what I’ll be offered,” Lily says.

”Did you hear?” Burdock exclaims. “Grandma Apple visited!”

Daisy nods. “They stopped by our dorms to say goodbye before they left the system.”

“It’s been so weird here without Grandma Laurel, Aunt Heather and Aunt Myrtle,” Burdock says.

When the sky turns red, Aunt Heather isn’t here to do her scrying ritual. Instead, it’s Savannah who makes this year’s announcement.

“I have listened upon the wind to learn what it has seen,” Savannah says. “Its whispers bring the chittering of bats, no higher than Elite rank. Its howls herald the coming of Heroic and Epic rank werewolves, and I have heard the piercing challenge of one Legendary ranked abomination. We must exercise caution this year until it has been dealt with as it comes with intent to kill and destroy.”

In less flowery language, I think she’s just using supernatural hearing skills.

We settle in for the autumn, and Aunt Magnolia stews up a lovely pot of questionable meat I quickly discover is werewolf.

“What’s the problem, kid?” Aunt Magnolia says. “It’s not like they’re people.”

“I think I’ll take the bat skewers instead,” I say.

Lily lets her hair grow out and doesn’t touch up the color, making it more and more of a skunk stripe every day.

In early November, we hold a naming ceremony for the ugliest baby Corwen has ever seen. His greenish, misshapen face squints at the light of the hearth fire for a moment before blinking his beast yellow eyes.

Raven is now a member of faction: Corwen Hearth

One by one, Lily brings the baby to each of us to repeat the name, “Raven.” When my turn comes, I examine the kid’s aura.

Category Person Race Half-Orc Gender Male Rank Basic Class Child Mood Confused

Once the ceremony ends, I go over and sit by Lily.

“That’s the most handsome half-orc I have ever seen,” I say truthfully.

Lily laughs. “Grok was chuffed when the fetus was analyzed. No Corwens for the elf, dwarf, or halfling this year. Now, we’ve named him Raven, the ugliest and cleverest of all birds. Son of the most virile member of the class of 736.”

“So you’ve been… grokked,” I say.

Far from being judgmental about Lily apparently sleeping with half her class, the Hearth is thrilled and celebrating our new family member. And not one of them says an unkind word about him being a half-orc. This really is a fantasy world. And I’m quite sure they all received quests to welcome the boy into the family.

I’ve been here for almost seven years and the matrilineal Hearth system in this world still feels a little weird sometimes. Women having casual sex and coming home pregnant is expected and welcomed with joy and open arms, without the slightest bit of shunning or judgment. Instead, people feel that long-term romantic attachment is a little weird, and fathers raising their own children is downright taboo.

Little Raven quickly drifts off to sleep on his mother’s not-green chest.

My own naming day is right around the corner. I’m practically buzzing with anticipation. I’m finally going to be able to choose a class. Enhanced attribute skills will be available to me even if magic that can affect the outside world won’t be until I hit Elite. I’ve been reading about them and this is going to be so much fun.