"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.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
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.