I did my best to stand as still as stone while my mother worked. To occupy myself I started to look around the room. There was a cluster of mannequins nearby, some were the same size as my mother, others appeared to be about my size, and a few were far larger than anything I had seen, dwarfing even mother they were so massive.

I noticed that several of the goblin-sized mannequins were partially clothed, long-sleeved robes that fell to mid-calf and closed in right angles at the front with sashes around the waist. They were deels in a similar style to the one mother wore, in varying shades of red, orange, and gold.

Scattered around the table were even more bolts of fabric, along with leathers, hides, and furs; there was a wide range of colors but most of them were dyed in warm tones. Shelves and what looked to be hundreds of small drawers lined the walls, some hung open and I could just see the contents spilling out. Pieces of carved bone, thread, measuring tape, knives, leatherworking tools, strips of silk, and jars of buttons lay strewn about.

This must have been mother’s workshop, I had thought she only worked with a forge, but it was clear now that my mother was a widely versed craftswoman. On the far side of the room, I saw another doorway, it looked to lead to an extension of the workshop, possibly where the forge was.

‘Just how large is our home?’ I wondered, I knew that it consisted of at least four yurts. There was the main room, where we were normally kept with Sha’ree, and was more of an oval shape. I knew it had three connecting doors: one that presumably led outside, one that led to Sha’rees stable, and one that connected to the hallway.

I had only seen that hall a handful of times, but I knew it had another four-doorways connected to it. But for all, I knew there could have been another ten yurts that made up our home. My head began to spin as I realized this was just my house, how much more was outside? I snapped back to reality as my arms were jerked so they were outstretched in a straight line horizontal to my body. My mother then took the length of her tape, making quick work of measuring the distance from one wrist to the other, of my shoulder to my wrist, neck, waist, and basically every minute part of my body.

“You are a child now Idika, that means you must follow certain decorum,” Urana spoke with the stern voice of a teacher, not looking up from her work.

“Firstly, you must always be properly clothed, even when you sleep. I will make your day ware first, as that is what you’ll wear most often, and when I am allotted the time I will make your night ware,” she paused, stepping back to look over her progress, before meeting my gaze giving a tired sigh.

“Please, try not to outgrow these beforehand,” she went back to her work before saying, in a more sincere tone,

“There is strength in taking your time to grow.”

“Why is she so upset?” I thought to myself, then realized I had actually whispered the words aloud. Even though my voice had been low, the words were clear and pronounced.

My mother stood up straight, staring at me wide-eyed for a moment, then reached over the table to grab something from the floor. When she leaned back, I saw the orange clay jug from several days ago, but this time the cloth topper was gone. She tipped the jug back and took a long swig of its contents, the familiar sweet scent mixed with iron hit my nose, and drops of a dark red liquid leaked from the corner of her mouth.

“Ahhh,” she gasped, dropping the now empty jug beside her, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I give birth to eight goblins, some of them have ten milestones and a few of them even had their milestones increase. Then my daughter skips two of her milestones in a single day and now she speaks as if she were an educated adult. Sweet Ignis’s fiery wrath! I need more blood wine,” she sounded as if she were exhausted with life.

After sketching down my measurements on a piece of parchment and placing the partially complete garment on one of the mannequins, Urana headed toward the door that led back to the main hall. She looked at me with a stern glare and gave a gesture of her hand, one I knew meant ‘Stay here', and disappeared behind the animal hide door.

I pondered the idea of following her orders, then decided against it. I was a child now, I could walk and talk and wear clothes, why shouldn’t I be able to explore my own home? I mentally summoned my movement type, the ‘child crawl’ and ‘toddler walk’ options were now gone.

Bipedal Movement

You can move at an average pace on two legs. You are now able to achieve normal athletic motions.

Jumping two milestones really made a difference. I swung my legs with ease and hopped off the table, realizing too late that it was much taller than I originally thought. I landed heavily and my ankle twisted, a feeling like white-hot electricity, shot up my leg and I bit back a cry of pain.

Though I wasn’t sure if my ‘Summon Mother’ ability still worked the same as before, I definitely knew a scream would draw unwanted attention. If there was one rule for a kid, when doing something you were told not to do, don’t get caught.

I slowly got to my feet, shifting my weight to favor my still throbbing ankle. I gritted my teeth, feeling determined, I was going to learn every room of the yurt, and I sure as hell would not let a sprained ankle stop me. I studied the two doors that connected to the room, I decided to start with the one that led further into the workroom; if I headed to the hall first, I would be more likely to run into mother. I started my shuffle across the room heading for the door.

As I passed through the hide cloth, I felt the floor beneath my feet change from warm wooden planks to cold black cobblestone. The space was packed with various workstations that I couldn’t recognize. It looked like a chemist’s lab, the tables and shelves were lined with crystals, glass beakers, tubes, and vials filled with multicolored liquids.

Scattered around the room were large stacks of thick books, and mounds of disks like the one I saw mother take out of the fire. But what caught my attention most was the massive forge in the center of the room. It was an immense rectangular construct of stone and metal, with a giant metal ring welded to either end.

Its gaping mouth, where the scorching fire would smelt and refine metals, was not currently lit; at its center was a heavy metal anvil. As I drew closer I saw a gray stone sitting on top of the anvil, on which was the outline of some sort of knife sketched in chalk. But my marvel at what I saw was cut short, as I felt a hand seize me by the back of my neck.

“You are not allowed in here! Didn’t I tell you to stay in the workshop?!” My mother lectured me, sounding tired and annoyed. I felt her fingers squeeze my neck, not painful but definitely uncomfortable, and it was enough encouragement for me not to put up a fight as she steered me out of the room and back into the workshop. I was alerted by the sound of something dragging behind us. I managed to turn my head somewhat, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a very menacing-looking wood paddle, it looked like it was studded with . . . nails?

Panic surged through me. She wasn’t going to use that on me, was she? I tried to squirm my way out of her iron grip, desperate to escape the now impending punishment. But it was a futile struggle, as my mother simply lifted me into the air with one hand, and with a sharp flick of the opposite wrist, I felt the paddle connect with my backside.

I let out a shrill scream of pain, it felt like it surged through my entire body as I spasmed. And I felt something hot dripping down my legs. Then, all the energy drained from my body, and I went limp, as two more swats came down on my backside.

‘This is completely unfair!’ I screamed inside my head, hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and I clenched my jaw, ‘what did I do to deserve something like this?! A mother is supposed to care for her children, not torture them!’’ I managed to crane my neck, so I was able to look over my shoulder at her.

I mustered the fiercest glare I could, fueled by all my burning pain and anger at the unfairness of the situation. Then the pain was gone, I felt clean and dry, with not even an ache left in my bottom as a proof of the beating. But I continued to glare at my mother.

“I’ll give you several more flicks if you don’t cease with your attitude,” she warned, looking down at me sternly, holding the paddle up for emphasis.

“You’re not tired yet. If this is enough to break you, the punishments for the tiered will kill you,” My mother stated coldly. I bit my lower lip, wanting to scream at her but afraid of the consequences, instead, I averted my gaze to the floor. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again. She let out a sigh.

“Always remember,” she said, turning me so we were face to face, still holding me by the back of my neck.

“The world is filled with wonders that are just as beautiful as they are deadly. You need to learn to heed others' warnings, or the consequences will be far worse than this,” I refused to look at her, still staring at the floor, as another tear rolled down my face.

My mother gave another heavy sigh, as she placed me back on the table from before. I continued to stare at the ground, anger, and pain no doubt still evident on my face.

“I wonder why I continue having children,” Urana said, with a dramatic wave of her hand.

“Makes me wonder, do the godless have to deal with such immature and rebellious offspring?”

I glanced up at her, still angry and pouting, but my curiosity getting the best of me.

“What are the ‘godless?” I asked, still trying my best to avoid eye contact.

Urana smirked at me, then started pulling out some of my half-finished garments, beginning her work again.

“Our races, mine the Hoblins and yours the Goblins, are bound to Ignis’s Mythonic God Crystal. Binding our races to him and each other. The godless are races of people that have not bound themselves,” my mother explained as she worked methodically, and with such speed and precision, that it would put professional tailors to shame.

I started to feel myself grow calmer, as I watched her work, the pieces of cloth and thread slowly becoming a new garment.

“Why did you mention their children and compare them to me? Are they stronger?” I asked absently, my eyes grew wider as the garment started to morph, taking shape with each new cloth, thread, and fur. My mother held the garment up to me, spreading my arms out to check the length of the sleeves.

“No, we are stronger by far. The gods give us many advantages. For example, we are bound to the world, while the godless do not grow by milestones the way we do. They simply grow and improve naturally,” She pulled the clothing away, fixing it to a mannequin once more.

“They also can’t suddenly gain abilities, like being able to speak properly, the way you did. Though, normally even we struggle at first,” Urana stepped back, eyeing me in suspicion.

“You would tell me if you’re a Vatrak, wouldn’t you?” her tone serious.

“Vatrak?” I asked, trying to communicate my confusion with as much sincerity as possible. I didn’t want to cause her to be suspicious of me for something I didn’t even understand.

“You’re too young to learn about death ghosts,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, then lifted me from the table. She carried me on her hip to a far corner, where a wooden tub stood, covered by a tarp that had various glowing insignias painted on it.

My mother ripped off the tarp, then she unceremoniously dropped me into the tub. I was submerged in a pool of oils and fat; it coated my skin and hair. I almost vomited.

“Oh, stop your squirming. Your father prepared this, especially for you and your brothers,” mother said as she worked the slimy mixture into my skin.

“He left this for us a few days ago. As the eldest, you get to enjoy this first,” I wanted to ask more questions, but my mother seemed to sense this and cut me off before I could even start.

“Don’t speak, you’ll get the Alder and Roc fats in your mouth. Your father is not home and no, you won’t meet him till you’re an adult. Cleansing the body of its weakness, as you start stepping into adulthood and donning your first garbs, is tradition. Your younger siblings will be cleansed in these same fats after they have become children as well.

They will wash in your filth, your purged weakness, and the mold that will start to grow now that I had to break the preservation seal. Due to you insisting on skipping your milestone before everyone else,” I could sense the annoyance in her voice. But hearing that this fat bath would only grow more disgusting and putrid the longer it took you to progress, I was grateful to be the first one to reach childhood.

After what felt like an eternity, my mother finally removed me from the slimy concoction. She instructed me to stand with my arms out and feet shoulder apart. She pulled a leather bag from one of the drawers and produced a long piece of metal, it was curved with a blunt edge and glistened in the light.

My mother drew the instrument across my flesh, almost pealing the oils and fats off me, and flicking the residue into the tub after each swipe. By the end of the process, I felt raw, like a freshly skinned rabbit. But much to my surprise, my skin felt clean and supple, and I smelled fragrant like spices.