Continue On, Struggler | Chapter Two, After-Birth.

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Lilia.

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Lord Paul and Lady Zenith’s child came into the world without complications.

If Lilia were to describe it that way, she’d be understating the truth of the matter. Even during instances where complications were normal, the process went smoothly. Not that it was a stress-free process, but all things considered, it came and went with ease. At first, she believed it to be a good omen, but then she held the newborn and noticed something strange.

The boy was silent. Even after expelling the fluid blocking his mouth, nose, and eyes, he made no noise. Her mind first jumped to stillbirth, but his eyes were open and his chest rose and fell as normal. She pressed her fingers against his little chest and felt his heart, beating as it should.

He was alive, just quiet.

Concern ate at her as she gently swaddled the newborn in cloth and presented him to his parents, all the while hoping he would make some sort of sound. She had been told once, by one of the handmaidens who first trained her: silent babies like him were more likely to possess an anomaly of some kind.

Lilia was only able to worry a moment before she was interrupted.

As Master Paul and Zenith looked down at him, concern etched on their faces as well, the baby glanced at each of them. First his mother, then his father, and then up at her, before he let out a series of random, incomprehensible noises.

She felt the tension leave her shoulders. It seemed she had nothing to worry about.

…

Lord Paul and Lady Zenith named the boy Rudeus. For lack of a better word, Lilia found him… strange.

He almost never cried, nor made much of a fuss at all. He would when he was hungry or dirtied his diaper, but outside of that, he stayed silent.

She thought him frail at first, but as she handled him more, that assumption proved itself to be wrong. The first few weeks after being born, Rudeus seemed to dislike behind held. Anytime anyone picked him up, even his parents, he’d wriggle against their arms with an intensity that seemed abnormal, yet he never cried.

Again, this worried Lilia, but he grew out of such behavior by his second week. He grew accustomed to Lord Paul’s and Lady Zenith’s touch, although he still seemed rather tense. He never developed that level of comfort with her, but Lilia didn’t mind that. She wasn’t, and never would be, his mother. It only made sense.

Months passed and little Rudeus learned how to crawl. A joyous occasion, at first, but he almost immediately became like a hurricane---impossible to contain.

As sure as the Sun would rise and set, they’d lose track of him, only to find him in places he had no business being. Somehow, he even managed to get up onto the second floor of the house or out in the front yard. By many, repetitive strokes of luck, his curiosity never carried him past the front gate and kept him content within the boundaries of his home.

Lilia feared the day that changed.

…

Fear was an emotion she felt a lot around the boy. Something always felt off with him.

For one, smiles were a rarity. Nor were there moments where he seemed to be genuinely upset. It felt ridiculous to think, but Rudeus carried himself with a certain… stoicism that was unnatural for someone his age. On the off occasion when he did emote, it still made her uncomfortable. He’d laugh, but it didn’t feel like a baby’s laugh. He’d smile, but it was always a smirk at someone else’s expense. One time, when he was first born, Paul tried to make him laugh by making funny faces. Rudeus cracked a smile, but only when Paul reeled back in rejection.

However, what she found most concerning was his staring. It was a habit of his. At first, Lilia figured that it wasn’t too out of the ordinary—just another one of his many quirks. However, the way he stared; whether it was up at the moon or his father training in the yard or down at his left arm, there was no curiosity, no whimsy, nor any other childlike quality. Just something… far away, distant. She had trouble putting words to it.

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At least he isn’t running off again… Was what she told herself over and over again. It was easier just to ignore it.

That was, until one day, the maid found him out in the yard, fixated by a flower.

Lilia had been going about her usual duties. Laundry, sweeping the floors, dusting the shelves, keeping an eye on Rudeus while his parents went about making another child…. Loud as they were, the noise seeping down through the floorboards into the dining room, it was impossible to tune them out completely and in her attempts to do so, she allowed Rudeus to slip away. Again.

Lilia hadn’t been all too surprised by this. This had become common behavior for him, so she went looking for him. With some haste, of course, but nothing nearing panic.

A quick scan of upstairs and downstairs told her all that she needed to know.

Walking out into the front yard, she found the boy in his mother’s garden. He was staring at something down near the fence.

Lilia hurried over to him, fast as she could manage on her weakened leg. He didn’t seem to notice her approach and as she neared, and was able to see over his shoulder, she saw the center of his fixation: a single flower growing near the stone bricks.

Admittedly, and she wouldn’t be able to say why, she was taken aback by it. Rudeus was still a baby, but never the type to find fascination in a flower.

Lilia watched him stare at the flower. The look in his eyes was different. Still distant and far away, but tinged with anticipation, almost like he was expecting something to pop its head out of its bulb.

A part of her was content to let him stare, but a sharp breeze reminded her that this was no place for someone his age.

“There you are, Master Rudeus.” Lilia made herself known, not wanting to take him by surprise. He disliked her touch normally, but he hated it when it came without warning.

The boy was startled nonetheless. He turned away from the flower and looked up at her, bashful, almost as if embarrassed.

“Do you like that flower?”

Rudy didn’t respond, but she never expected him to. He wasn’t old enough to talk yet.

“Would you like to bring it in with you? I’m sure your mother wouldn’t mind.”

Lilia had already reached her hand out towards it, but as her fingers neared its thin stem, a pair of tiny hands stopped her.

It was Rudeus.

She wanted to write it off as a whim, simple childish selfishness, but that seemed way too simple a reasoning for a boy like him. In the end, she didn’t know what to make of it and brought him back inside in silence.

Nevertheless, Lilia never looked at the boy the same again.

…

Just to be safe, when the opportunity presented itself, Lilia rushed to the village to buy all she needed for a banishment ritual from her homeland and performed it as the Greyrats slept.

It failed. Rudeus acted as he usually did, still crawling off and staring at things in his odd little way.

…

A year passed. Lilia still found his behavior odd overall, but Rudeus eventually grew out of his more concerning habits. Coincidentally, the change came when he became able to hold and lift things.

One day, as Zenith busied herself with dinner and Paul practiced his swordsmanship out in the front yard, Lilia prepped the table. A quick glance his way told her that the boy, who should’ve been sitting at the dining table, had wandered off again.

She sighed, but didn’t panic. This had become so commonplace that it was hard to worry. In fact, he did this so much, she developed a list of possible hiding spots for her to check off, just for situations like this.

Was he somewhere obvious on the first floor? No? Then, she checked all of the nooks and crannies. If that proved fruitless, she would check out in the yard and then upstairs. And if all else failed, then that was when she’d panic and raise an alarm with Lord Paul and Lady Zenith.

Fortunately, this time, she was able to find the boy easily. He was outside, just a little past the front door, staring at his father as he practiced. The maid was going to announce her presence and bring him back inside, but what he was doing gave her pause.

Upon closer inspection, Rudeus wasn’t just watching.

The boy was swinging a stick—about half as long as his head and a little thicker than a writing quill—like it was a sword. Sloppily and from a seated position, of course, but the intent was clear.

With both his little hands wrapped around its base, Rudeus raised it up over his head and brought it back down, over and over, using enough force to tip himself forward a bit with every swing.

Lilia needn’t look far to understand the why or how. Looking up, in Rudeus’s direct line of sight, Paul was taking his own practice swings. It wasn’t a perfect recreation, but close enough to be startling.

“Ah, Lilia?” Lost in practice, eyes wide, Paul only noticed her presence just then. “What are you doing out—? Ah, Rudy?!” He was shocked, his slacked jaw and prolonged staring made that clear. “Wait, no way…. Rudy, are you…?”

Lilia had only been employed by the Greyrats for about a year, but her relationship with Paul dated back longer, back to when they attended the same school for swordsmanship; and in all her years of knowing him, she had never seen the man happier than in that moment.

It became very clear then, not just to Lilia, but to Paul and Zenith as well: Rudeus Greyrat was very much Paul’s son.

The maid just hoped that he didn’t retain all of his father’s signature traits.

…

Rudeus’s interest in the sword became a hot-button topic.

Zenith didn’t seem ecstatic about the idea, but seemed more or less resigned to it. Paul was the exact opposite.

It seemed that, before Rudeus was born, the two argued about whether they should teach their child magic or the sword. Eventually, they were able to agree that the baby’s gender would decide it for them. A girl meant the path of magic and, eventually, a magic tutor. A boy meant Paul would teach them to be a knight himself.

Then, finally, Rudeus was born. In the end, things would go Zenith’s way.

In hindsight, this outcome should’ve been obvious to everyone. Lilia had always assumed that, whenever he’d sneak away to watch Paul train, the boy was more interested in his father than what he was actually doing. Now, it was clear that his far away stares weren’t as far away as she thought.

The revelation seemed to light a fire under Paul who, for the first time since Rudeus was born, took an active interest in his son. Even going as far as bringing his son out into the yard every time he’d practice, just so Rudeus could watch him up close.

Zenith had her reservations, but allowed it. Lilia shared some of her Lady’s worries, but still saw it as a prime opportunity. Finally, she could go about her chores without having to worry about where Rudeus had crawled off to.

As a result, her opinion of Rudeus improved greatly. Although, she still didn't know why she was so perturbed by him in the first place.

Rudeus was an odd child, but in the end, he was still a child. Nothing to be scared of at all.

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Chapter End.