10 - Someone to Blame
Octavia held Valrion’s mother’s hand and stared deep into her eyes. “Take a deep breath, Lady Adrianna. It’s all right. You don’t need to tell me anything. Sergius already explained what happened. Just take a deep breath, okay?”
Valrion’s mother followed the instruction—inhaling and exhaling a few times—before she could finally proceed, “Valrion is also hurt.”
Octavia took a quick glance at Valrion, who had been quiet for a while, before focusing on his mother again. “Please go to your room. Let Fina patch up Sergius. I’ll fetch some water for a cold compress.”
“Uh, yes,” his mother replied, pressing him tighter against her shoulder. Her chin was lowered, and fear was evident in her face.
As soon as she passed through the open doorway to the kitchen, where a long table filled with plates and bowls of food stood in the center, with a hearth and two cauldrons on one side, his mother’s eyes began to water. Using the back of her other hand—the one not holding him on her back—she quickly wiped them away. She then sighed and forced a smile, doing her best to appear as normal as possible, even though he was the only one watching.
How foolish of him to have forgotten that his current mother was human. Then, it occurred to him: whether mortal or not, a baby’s skull was fragile. He could have died if a heavier object had struck him. It might have been something as small as a flowerpot, but even that could have caused a concussion, leading to a loss of consciousness and permanent brain injury.
Even he grimaced at the thought of it. Living as a sad and lonely fallen god was one thing, but living as a sad, lonely, and both mentally and physically impaired fallen god was an entirely different matter.
Any loving mother would worry about losing their child. Even his mother in Heaven, who could split mountains in half while lounging with a cup of warm tea, looked as if she would shatter into pieces upon hearing his sentence, let alone a mortal mother and her newborn son.
In their room, his mother gently laid him on the changing table beside the cradle, where Octavia had previously cleaned him up. Hesitantly, she parted his hair around the area where he had been struck—it was closer to his forehead than it was to the middle of his head—careful not to touch the skin. After just a few seconds, she pulled away and simply stood there, watching him with an uneasy glare that hadn’t faded in the slightest.
Stop worrying. I’ll live, he wanted to say, but as always, only gurgles came out. If that was the case, then he could at least smile—so he did.
He raised his hands toward his mother and laughed. It was clearly fake, but perhaps there wasn’t much of a difference when it came from a baby. She didn’t seem to notice as she smiled back at him and reached out once again to touch his face. He grabbed her forefinger, just like he did with Olivia, and squeezed it gently. The whole act seemed to reassure her, and she gradually looked more relaxed.
About a minute later, Octavia entered the room, carrying the same basin and cloth she had used this morning. As before, she placed them below Valrion’s feet. Without a word exchanged, she and Valrion’s mother seemed to understand each other perfectly: Octavia wet and wrung out the cloth, while Valrion’s mother moved to the child, gently touching the areas where it hurt.
“It doesn’t look that bad, but we should call the physician if the swelling doesn’t improve tomorrow morning. Be patient, my son,” Valrion’s mother cooed, hushing every time Valrion winced. Though he couldn’t feel it himself, he knew a red bump was growing there.
“May I?” Octavia asked, positioning herself on the opposite side of Valrion’s mother. The latter pulled back, giving Octavia enough space to lean in and place the cloth on the area. The coldness soothed Valrion, relieving the sting.
He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation, and his mind jumped between many random thoughts. What had happened so far today, how it was only his second day being aware of this new reality, the quests he had read in the Handbook, the words exchanged between the people, the things he would do tomorrow—it traveled here and there until it finally settled on his childhood in Heaven.
Like every other child, he would run and play around every structure his eyes fell upon, inevitably injuring himself along the way. A massive willow tree? He would climb it and fall because he hadn’t yet grasped how to levitate. A sword that wasn’t meant to be held by a child? He would steal it from his father’s display and swing it, accidentally slashing his cheek.
Each time, the pain was brief, fading as the wound healed on its own. If his father hadn’t kept an eye on him and tattled to his mother, he could have hidden every single one of his mischiefs from everyone. All in all, gods had extreme healing abilities since they were young. Even during great wars, gods could instantly mend their injuries and resume fighting as if they were never down in the first place, causing the battles to continue incessantly.
Then, his mind drifted to his fire ability. Whether mortal or god, artisan or warrior, offensive or defensive, all beings in the universe must hone their skills to achieve mastery. Things took time. Even in Heaven, a child who had just learned to revive a wilting flower would never be able to do so as flawlessly as the gardeners who had spent lifetimes tending to the celestial gardens.
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How could he safely practice this destructive power as soon as possible? He couldn’t crawl, so he would be confined to this room or wherever people placed him. He couldn’t speak, so there was no way he could explain his situation or ask for a better setup. Worst of all, he might not be able to aim properly during the first few weeks, and the last thing he needed was to risk burning down the house or hurting someone.
“Are we being targeted, Octavia?”
He opened his eyes and glanced at his mother, who slumped on the edge of the bed, watching him with folded hands on her lap. At first, he assumed she was too scared of losing him. That might have been as true as it could get, but her prolonged dejection and dramatic question now struck him as an exaggeration.
“I’m even thinking that maybe my son is the target, but they accidentally got Sergius,” his mother added.
“If that was the truth, then the perpetrator deserved the worst punishment imaginable,” Octavia said, straightening her back to look at Valrion’s mother better. If she had laughed it off, Valrion would have continued thinking his mother was just being paranoid. The fact that she took the assumption seriously caused him to be wary.
“Could it be that elderly man?” Valrion’s mother asked.
“Not a chance. We’ve seen him around, and we know where he lives. I can try to visit his house tomorrow if that’ll ease your worry.” Octavia looked sideways while curling his lips, thinking hard before saying, “It wouldn’t be an evoker. If the government figured us out, they wouldn’t bother to play around by taunting us.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking of an evoker. Nearly a zero percent chance it would be them,” Valrion’s mother agreed. “But it had to come from someone, right?”
As Octavia went still, Valrion wondered who these evokers were. From the conversation, they seemed to be elemental wielders too, but they were linked to the government—the kingdom, to be exact. What made them deserving of a special title? Was it that connection they had? A thousand years ago, such individuals would have simply been called “elemental wielders” or “elemental users”.
It was more interesting that his family was at odds with both parties mentioned. They could easily open a workshop, which must be legal since the kingdom taxed them. His mother didn’t seem to mind paying it on time either—she had sort of confirmed that she did it every three months—so there must be more to the story than this.
“I wanted to theorize that maybe Sergius was trying to put on a performance and accidentally hurt himself, but he wouldn’t be that stupid,” Octavia broke the silence. “Also, how would he do it? By dipping his shirt in oil and lighting it on fire? I’m sorry. I’m not making much of a point.”
“I have someone in mind,” Valrion’s mother said.
“Who?” Octavia asked, sounding like a gasp.
Valrion’s mother’s eyes darted around. Clearly, she was hesitant to continue, but she eventually managed to say, “Do you remember about last month’s mission?”
“Last month—which one?”
“The one where my husband refused to fund Dominic’s plan to riot during the Aptitude Test in Volturno. He admitted during the meeting that he didn’t believe in Dominic’s ability to lead the operation and even brought up all the times Dominic had failed. Dominic did succeed more than he failed, but my husband didn’t appreciate it. I can feel there’s been a strain among the group ever since.”
“Oh, that one,” Octavia noted. “Then Sir Cassius ended up funding another team that got caught a day before the operation began in another city.”
Finally, Valrion heard of his father’s name, but this wasn’t the moment to celebrate. His mind was filled with many questions regarding his family, the strongest ones being: Who exactly were these people? Why were they planning a riot against the government? Were they involved in things they shouldn’t be?
“I’ve told him many times that he can’t just criticize people so blatantly to their faces. He said he would try to change, but it’s all talk. I’m certain it’s because he knows they’ll always need his money,” Valrion’s mother continued.
Octavia acknowledged with a nod. “So you’re saying that Sir Dominic could be behind this.”
Valrion’s mother released a long sigh, shrugging. “I don’t know, Octavia. It isn’t good to accuse someone of something this serious without a single concrete proof, but this is the first thing that came to my mind. Perhaps I just want to make sense of it. How else would fire suddenly appear like that?”
“Hmm, yeah. I understand.” Octavia’s voice was softer, as if insisting that Valrion’s mother was allowed to have an opinion. “At least, do you know if there’s a fire wielder among his people?”
“If I knew, that could be the proof to support my theory, but there’s none. Not that I’m aware of, but it’s not like we know every single escapee. I’m sure many of them don’t join the Liberators. Some might not have even heard of us before.”
The Liberators? Escapees joining their group? Valrion wondered. The simple name suggested they were trying to help elemental wielders escape from the government or the kingdom. Those people were then called escapees, but why did any of these need to happen? What had become of Eru?
[Main Quest updated: A New Era]
[EXP +25]
[Main Quest updated: A New Era]
[EXP +25]
[A New Era
➤ Evoker, Aptitude Tests, escapees, the Liberators—these terms are unfamiliar to you. Your mother claims that your father is a sponsor of some riots, and they’re part of a group called the Liberators. It seems your family isn’t as ordinary as you once believed.
➤ Your family talks so casually about wielding elemental power that it’s unlikely they’ll punish you for doing the same. Now, it’s time to find the perfect moment to practice—just be cautious not to burn anything you shouldn’t.]
It was interesting how two quests could be completed simultaneously, even if they were under the same category. In the future, he might have missions like cooking soup for someone and hunting wild boars that had troubled a village. He could tackle both at once, making it an efficient way to gain EXP. If there were more than two? Even better.
Not only was the Handbook innovative, but it was also accurate in reflecting his current thoughts. More and more stories unfolded before him. Despite a hint of uncertainty that still resided within him—like whether he was guided in the right direction—he couldn’t help but feel a thrill for what the new day might bring.