Norbert gently hit his fist on the doorway, rapping it three times. The house the exact same as it was when he last saw it. Standing on the veranda, Obsius looked out the window on the side of the door to see who was coming.
The steps on the wooden floorboards were quiet until whoever it was saw the bird sitting there, then they bolted to the door, opening it up as Norbert stood there. Looking down was a boy, not as little as Norbert remembered him by. The months had been and gone, and he had grown slightly taller, but still, a boy was there.
"NORBERT!" Nassan shouted to Norbert, leaping into his arms.
Picking up the kid, Norbert looked shocked momentarily, not expecting that sort of reaction. From around the corner, he heard a chair on the dining table scratch open as Helga appeared before him. The woman smiled as she stood there, letting the two boys have their moment together.
"Did you find the two stragglers a home?" She asked him.
Norbert shrugged his shoulders, "Possibly. An old man fishing by the river called them over."
"Old man Fishy, who cleans the weird statues. He’s scary." Nassan interrupted Norbert before he could add anything else.
“Nassan, you shouldn’t say that.”
“But it's true, mum.”
“Still doesn’t mean you should say it,” Helga told her son, walking forward, taking Nassan off of Norbert and shooing him to the backyard.
Norbert walks through the house, seeing the magic book out and open on the page. He remembers the time when he tried to use the spells as well. Smiling at the book, flicking through it, Norbert compares it to the other books he has read about casting spells and formulating rune shapes, both simple and complex, and the combination of multiple types.
Finish his flicking, Norbert felt eyes dig into him; turning to the side where the taps were, Helga looked at him. “Last time you looked at the book and tried to copy it filled you with sorrow.” The mother told Norbert.
A sad smile painted his face as he remembered the day, standing over the sink where she was standing right now. He prayed and hoped something would happen at the faucets, but nothing happened at all, no matter how much he tried to force it or beg something, anything, to happen.
“You learn to live with what’s given to you. And make the best of what can be done.” Norbert said, looking down at his hand, remembering the first time the purple veins painted his body like a mad artist who liked purple a bit too much.
“Still can’t do magic?”
“Never will be able to, but I’ve come to terms with it. Having more than ten elixirs in your system makes up for a lack of magic, and you can compete in the tournament because of that, more than what some others can say.” Norbert spoke aloud.
“WAIT THE TOURNAMNET!” Nassan called back from outside, running back in and looking up wide-eyed at Norbert.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone that.”
“How is it? I want to be strong enough to join the tournament when I’m older,” Nassan spoke with awe.
“NO” Both Norbert and Helga said at once.
Both turned to each other, surprised by their reactions to the boys' outcry. Norbert waved to Helga before she shook her head.
“The boys heard enough from me about that, and I’m curious about what a runner says about it.” She said, moving to one of the chairs and sitting down, indicating to two others for the two boys to sit in.
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Nassan is sitting in his usual chair, where the book is currently residing, and Sitting on the, left leaning backwards—looking at a chair sitting; leaning. Norbert counted it, and the son came back. Norbert wondered how long that chair had been sitting out there.
“If they want you in the tournament, you don’t have a choice.” Norbert started, pointing to himself with his thumb, “Case in point.”
Helga’s eyes opened slightly wider as she wondered what Norbert could do to receive that type of forced labour in exchange for joining it.
Norbert looks to Nassan, the boy's eyes wide as saucers. “But if you have the choice, still don’t. No extra pay, risking your life with a group of strangers, countries betting on you and cheating one way or another and including your team vying for your demise. And hopefully, it will not annoy any of these people or else have an entire country after your head. With only the slightest pretence holding them back.” Norbert recounted what happened to him over the tournament, which he had experienced firsthand.
“None of that matters; if you can do it, so can I,” Nassan repeated, once more stuck in his ways.
Closing his eyes, Norbert breathed slowly, wondering how to convince a kid not to join a tournament.
An idea came to mind, a grotesque idea that he hoped wouldn’t bite him on the back later. Or a lot sooner, depending on how bad it went. Taking his gloves off, Norbert turned to Nassan, asking the question on his mind: “But there is one thing more important above all else. How robust are you?”
“Robust?” The boy responded like a parrot, not understanding where Norbert was going.
“Resilience, how much damage can you take before passing out or dying?” Norbert asked as he held his right index finger in his left hand.
Remembering that Cossan was a hunter, the boy would have probably seen blood and gore by now—a lot earlier than someone living rurally on Earth would.
Pulling his finger back quickly, his eyes staring into Nassan’s as he bent his finger back. The crunch of the bone-breaking pulverised into nothing echoed in the quiet room.
He is holding the energy back from healing the damage in his right hand, wanting to remain with the broken finger for a bit longer to continue the demonstration.
“Your mother knows what she’s talking about. You need to be able to take a lot of damage to survive in the tournament. Of having your teammates run away as a Grimm holds your head down and decapitates you. Not a nice feeling.”
“Then can't I just have what you have?” Nassan asked, seemingly desperate as his dreams of following this strange man's footsteps that washed up on the river bank and stayed in their house for some time seemed to drift away.
“If you're okay with throwing away your mother's work and never doing magic again,” Norbert gestured to Helga standing there. The woman looked at her son, making sure the newcomer wasn’t going too far.
“But there is more than one way to skin a cat,” Norbert said, shaking his hand to force the energy in it. He repaired the finger instantly, so quickly that an audible pop could be heard as it came back into place.
Showing off the repaired finger to the family, Norbert put his glove back on and continued explaining: “You can get fame, strength, power, and recognition through other works and feats.”
“Like what?” Nassan automatically replied, barely thinking about the words coming out of the boys mouth.
“Like helping many orphaned children away from a place they would have died by a disease that went through them. More accurately, after curing them of said disease and moving them out before anything worse can happen.” Norbert spoke words now in the quiet room.
Standing up, the chair grinding on the floor, he looked outside. “Is there any physical labour that needs to be done here or around the town? No trees to be felled or beasts to be run out?” Norbert asked the two, looking towards the mother.
“Creatures from the Highland Plains are encroaching again on the town. We asked the Frontier to investigate, but they are busy now.” Helga spoke to him.
Norbert nodded as he looked towards them, needing to go to the other side of the town. I do not think that he could go up against the wolves again. “I’ll see what I can do in the little time here,” Norbert said with a nod.
I was walking to the front door, planning on sprinting through the main path of the town to get there.
“Are you going to come back for dinner?” Nassan shouted out, obviously slightly over the panic that Norbert gave him.
Turning to Helga, the mother smiled at him as Norbert smiled back, “But of course I will be.” Confidently letting the boy know before turning to Helga “Just before sunset?” Norbert asked.
“Just before sunset,” Helga confirmed to him.
Norbert nodded his head as he opened the door. Obsius flew out the back door, and Norbert saw the bird take up into the air. With a wave, Norbert exited out through the front, wondering how long it would take until Obsius met up with him.
Stepping off the porch, Obsius instantly appeared on Norbert’s head, looking about from his upper position.
He picked the bird up and placed her in his coat pocket, patting the bird before buttoning it up so it wouldn’t flap in the wind.
Looking up at the sun just peaking in the sky, knowing he wouldn’t have much time if he dawdled, pushing energy through his legs, Norbert ran off, making sure not to destroy the road he was travelling on too much—no point in solving one problem and creating the next in the process.