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.

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"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 Pricel was. 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.