I let some time pass before I get up, heading in the direction my father has gone. I have a good idea about where he is going. It is most likely the eastern transept, essentially, a small room jutting out from the side of the church. Father Tucker showed it to me once; it’s a study of sorts, for storing clerical parchments, vestments, and other items of import to the church. As I approach the door, my guess is confirmed. There are voices coming from the other side. I lean my ear against the wood, careful not to make a sound. The words are a bit muffled but understandable. I’ve seemed to have joined in the middle of the conversation. Father Tucker is speaking.

He says, “- for that matter, why hasn’t Charles said anything? Why hasn’t anyone?”

The voices change, and now it is my father’s turn. “I’ve ordered everyone to keep silent. To say nothing to the boy. I don’t want word of this to spread, and I don't want anyone making a big deal out of it.”

“Excuse my language, Thomas, but why the fuck not? You ‘should’ be making a big deal out of it. I should too. Hell, everyone in the village should. We should be holding a fucking celebration, that’s how big a fucking deal this should be!”

“I think you’re being hyperbolic, Father Tucker...”

“Hyperbolic? Thomas, the boy can cast spells. At five! Five years of age, Thomas, for god’s sake! Do you know how rare that is? If you don’t think that’s incredible-” There’s a pause, then the cleric continues, “Okay, let me ask you this. At what age did ‘you’ cast ‘your’ first spell?”

“... Sixteen, but that’s not what’s at issue-”

“And at what age do most wizards cast their first spells?”

“... Eighteen.”

“And you’re sitting here, with a straight face, trying to convince me that Samuel, your son, is not a prodigy because?” The cleric’s words trail off, and there is another pause, before my father finally speaks up.

“Because we still don’t know what happened in that study. Because there’s too many pieces that still don’t add up. And because I don’t want him to suddenly think he’s special enough to have free reign to go around blowing things up!”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh bullshit, Thomas. You know as well as I that Samuel isn’t that kind of child. What happened at the town hall was an accident. Full stop. I know you know this. Why you’re trying so hard to pin the blame on your son is a mystery to me.”

“He IS to blame. He cast the spell.”

“And he’s FIVE, Thomas. Five-years-old. Do you even remember what you were like at five? What it’s like to be young and naive and full of curiosity? You seem to not understand what your actions are doing right now to this child…”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand! Samuel, he’s, he’s… different.”

“Different? Different how?”

Another long pause before my father replies, “He, he just is, okay?”

Father Tucker lets out a snort. “Ah, it seems I’ve mistook who the child was in all this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” my father snaps.

“It means that anytime it’s a matter regarding Samuel or your wife, Dolly, you seem to lose all sensibilities and become more stubborn than a dwarf and denser than a rock! Where is the fearless paladin that rose to the king’s court? The just leader that with steady hand guides Tavenport? The gentle child who vowed to help all, save all, love all? Do you know of such a person? Do you know where he has gone?” Met with silence, the cleric himself continues, softly, fondly, “Thomas, what are you not telling me?”

“... It’s nothing.”

“Thomas, how long have I known you?”

“... My entire life.”

“Indeed,” the cleric says, letting out a hearty laugh, “Since you were just a wee lad. And now, just as back then, I can tell when you’re hiding something. So let me just be direct. Why did you abruptly leave the capital? Why did you come back to Tavenport, Thomas? What happened to you out there, past the Great Forest?”

“... I, I saw the face of god.”

“Now who’s being hyperbolic.”

“... I swore a vow of silence. Please don’t make me choose between my oath and my mentor. Father Tucker. Please.”

I hear the cleric sigh. “Very well. I won’t force you, Thomas. But just know, you need to confide in someone. Whatever this burden is that you brought back from the Great Forest, if you continue to carry it alone, it’ll eat away at your very soul.” There’s a long pause, followed by another sigh, before the priest continues. “So, the boy, you brought him here today with something in mind, right? What is it you want me to do?”

“You still have the Scroll of Intrinsicality and the Orb of Potentiation?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to administer them to Samuel, to see if we can determine what happened at the town hall.”

“Okay. Do you have an idea of what we’ll be looking for?”

“Something that allowed him to blow up a wall with Prestidigitation.”

“Prestidigitation, you say? Ho! Ho! Now that’s a first! This boy just gets more and more interesting. I think I shall rather enjoy myself this morning. Come, Thomas, we’ve kept the child waiting long enough.”

I slip away just before the door opens.