15 - Flames in the Hearth

If this were the Eru that Valrion knew, his family could have hired several guardians capable of wielding water elements. They would take turns watching over him, using their abilities to prevent or resolve any problems he might accidentally cause. Once he was able to walk and talk fluently, they could have found a trustworthy mentor to teach him how to control his flame.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, as his family had no better solution than to follow Firmus’ advice.

Three days later, on the morning of the fourteenth, he was fed, cleaned, and brought to the kitchen that had been redecorated into what looked like a poor widow’s bower. He had once read a fictional book about a pregnant queen who was falsely accused of murdering her husband—the ruler of the nation. All alone and hated by everyone, she had given birth and raised her daughter in a dungeon. This was how he imagined her chamber to look.

Everything except the built-in hearth and wall lanterns had been removed, leaving only a bed on the right side of the room and a brand-new cradle on the other. Its black color and skinny slats indicated that it was made from wrought iron, and when Valrion was placed inside and managed to touch the sides, he was certain of it.

Wool became his new bedding, and the same was true for the mattress across from him, which also had wrought iron as its frame. While not entirely fire-resistant, wool was much harder to ignite, and even if it did catch fire, it would smolder rather than flare up. Given their high cost, he was grateful that he had been reborn into a family that could afford such luxury.

[Level: 3]

[EXP: 10/125]

[Health: 284/286]

[Mana: 27/27]

He was elated to have reached level three, and the requirement for the next level had indeed increased by ten points. So far, main quests had given him twenty or twenty-five experience points, so he would look forward to making sure if there would be any changes in the future.

A few times, he also managed to touch his forehead to check if the bump was still visible. He felt nothing—no pain nor any noticeable swelling. He might have needed to press harder, but why would he bother? However, it seemed that the others could still feel something as they continued to apply ointment to the same area.

What was odd was that, although the bump on his forehead was no longer a concern, the knife cut from his father left a clean scar. [Status: Injured] had disappeared a day ago, but he often found himself staring at his palm ever since the night of the Aptitude Test. It didn’t seem like it would leave a permanent mark, and even if it did, it would most likely fade away as he grew older.

“Aren’t we lucky that Sir Firmus knew someone who could sell us this used cradle? Otherwise, we would have had to wait longer to order one ourselves,” Fina said as she walked into the kitchen and proceeded to the dining room, carrying a large woven basket with both hands. Valrion couldn’t see its contents, but he assumed it held food for his mother’s breakfast.

It occurred to him that he wouldn’t have full privacy here since his family would eat meals in the proper area, and the only way to get there was through the kitchen. Then again, his family might have considered it a good idea, as it would allow them to keep a watch over him regularly.

This wouldn’t be a problem, as his family had expected him to showcase his fire elemental power again—it was the very reason they had moved him here. Another issue might arise if he displayed abilities beyond those of a typical three-month-old, but they would likely just call him a genius and build a better place for him.

Somehow, he knew the people would always have his back. It was comforting to know he had people he could count on.

“Do you like the new cradle? I thought it might be too firm for you, but we’ll see,” his mother said, having stood beside him for a while. He smiled at her, hoping to convey that he was okay with the arrangement, and she responded with a warmer smile.

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She seemed to have accepted the present as she picked him up and carried him outside through the back door. The area was filled with kitchen items, including the kitchen table and a cauldron hanging above a firepit. Apart from them, the sacks of goods, cupboards, and shelves were all tucked against the outer wall of the house.

When the incident with Sergius occurred, Valrion had been hanging out in the right yard of the house, surrounded only by grass and hedges. Today, his mother took him to the other side, where a stable housed two horses, both a shade of dark brown. There seemed to be space for a third, suggesting one was missing.

Closer to the end of the house stood two more buildings, one smaller than the other. From his knowledge of a middle-class household in Eru, he immediately recognized them as a barn and a shed. It was unlikely for them not to have another place to accommodate the animals during colder seasons and store necessary tools.

“Horses.” His mother pointed toward the horses before her finger stopped at the one on the left. “This one is our oldest horse, so we don’t ride him that often anymore. He’s called Centurion. Wait—that’s similar to your name! Why did I just realize that?”

As his mother laughed, Valrion was torn between letting it go or being weirded out. How dare she compare a god’s name to a horse? Then again, names ending in “-rion” weren’t uncommon in either Heaven or Eru. Many divine names have been used for humans and plants alike, such as Lotus, a famous seamstress in Heaven, and Eaglethor, one of the strongest soldiers there.

Perhaps he was just upset because the horse looked like it might die next week. Its mane and tail were brittle, and its eyes showed clear signs of aging, with cloudiness developing in the irises. When it neighed, Valrion noticed a pair of deep yellow teeth covered in thick saliva.

A moment later, Centurion nudged its head against Valrion’s mother’s arm, also touching the child’s lower back. It then lifted its head and looked at Valrion with a deep, knowing gaze—one that spoke of years of unconveyed struggles. He didn’t know why, but at that moment, remorse enveloped him. He immediately regretted ridiculing the horse’s appearance.

He believed he was good at giving appreciation when it was due. At least, he always made sure to do so when it came to his family, but there was so much more to the world than just them. Who would have thought he would want to be less rigid, even toward an animal?

Roughly fifteen minutes after being outside, as expected, her mother returned to the kitchen and placed him into the cradle. He wouldn’t have known what happened to her in the previous room after caring for him, but this time, he saw her head toward the dining room. She was all alone there.

Moments later, Octavia and Fina appeared in the kitchen and joined Valrion’s mother, immediately launching into a loud conversation. It seemed Fina brought gossip about a certain fish seller from their regular morning market, whose wife had left him after discovering he had been in a secret relationship with their mutual friend, resulting in an eight-year-old child.

“Didn’t he try to flirt with all of us before? I’ve always known there’s something odd about him!” Octavia exclaimed, and Fina responded with a disgusted snort.

“Does this mean we’ll have to find another seller? But his quality’s amazing,” Valrion’s mother said.

“I guess so. He left the market in a hurry this morning when some people started calling him out. After all this, I don’t think he’ll have the nerve to show up there again.”

Just when he thought Sergius was nowhere to be found, the man walked into the kitchen from the backyard and sat with them. Though Valrion couldn’t see what was happening—his cradle faced the fireplace, with his back to the dining room—he could hear the women retelling the story to Sergius, followed by the clinking of cutlery.

“What? What an idiot!” Sergius shouted at one point, clearly referring to the cheating fish seller. His voice was muffled as he spoke, his mouth stuffed with food.

Valrion’s parents, especially his mother, had really struck him as humble nobility. He had thought about how they didn’t have the wealth to trample on others’ lives, but it would have been perfectly fine if his mother had demanded private meal times. None of the workers would have minded, especially since they could always eat elsewhere or at later hours.

As usual, after the mourning routine, Valrion grew a little drowsy. He would normally choose to sleep, as there was nothing else to do, but with the hearth before him, he couldn’t. His attention drifted to the thin firewood stacked in the grate. It had been charred from use but was still far from turning to ash.

Just as he had done before, he focused on igniting the fire. It appeared almost instantly, but it only burned the left part of the firewood, staying there without spreading. The flame was also small, like the one he had created in the common room when Firmus was around.

He tried to summon more. Each flame was about the size of his fist, but it didn’t always appear in the right spots. Sometimes, it landed perfectly on the firewood stack, but other times, it nearly gave him a heart attack as it teetered on the edge of the hearth before tumbling onto the stone flooring, where it quickly fizzled out.

First and foremost, he needed to work on his aiming, but then a new thought struck him: what if he tried to manipulate the shape of the fire that was already burning before him?