“A what now?” I looked Father dead in the eye.

“A tutor!” He grinned at me, looking way too happy to be true.

I had just turned four a month ago. I wasn’t supposed to start schooling for another year, but I had started to drop my façade ever since I was at the age that I could begin to talk. My parents were also beginning to realise that I was capable of more than I had shown them. I knew this day had been coming, yet dreaded it all the same. What would I do when they began teaching me things I already knew? Would I tell them the truth, or pretend I was clueless? The questions ran through my mind. For now, I would have to play dumb.

“Why don’t I go to real school?” I asked Father.

He looked down at his food and took a bite. “Well, all noble kids have a tutor for the first few years to learn the basics. The schools only teach the more advanced stuff, so we need to get you a dedicated tutor!”

I gulped. I already knew the basics. Hell, I already knew several advanced techniques and tricks! I would have to limit my power and make it look like I was learning.

“So, when do I go to a real school? And what do I even do there?” I pushed around the food on my plate. My appetite had disappeared, instead replaced with dread of my secret being revealed. Father briefly explained how the schooling system worked to me:

Education still mostly relied on books, and every noble school had the essentials. A few books per subject per class, and every student was supplied three books a year to meet all of their needs. Magic and History both had their respective books, while Science and Maths were compiled. Mathematics was also lumped with philosophy, and took up most of the book as little was known about science.

Father then explained about tutors. Nobles would usually be tutored on the basics until age ten, and then go to a school until age seventeen. Over those seven years, they would cover history, maths and science, and different degrees of magic theory based on their competence. More recently though, commoners would be tested for magical aptitude, and if it was enough, they would be admitted to noble schools on special permission from the king.

Magic classes were also separated from low to high aptitude, almost like an honours or advanced class that you could take if you had higher magic capabilities. As I had touched on before, there was a new magic tool for measuring aptitude. It seemed that there was no way for you to fool it, which sucked for me since I would most likely be discovered then.

Commoners now could attend noble schools if they had high enough magical aptitude, but that was pretty rare. More often than not, they would be schooled from eight to thirteen and then spend the rest of their lives working.

“So,” I told Father, digesting all the information I had just been told. “Who is this tutor?” I asked.

“You ask all the right questions, my son! You’re so smart for your age…” He muttered the last part under his breath, but I still heard it. Ever since I was at the age where I could talk, I had been acting less and less as a child. I should have never shown myself as this intelligent, but now that they’ve seen I could act like this, I couldn't go back.

Father continued. “The tutor is a brilliant young woman named Anna Welkin. She has… what was it again…?” Father’s eyes flicked upwards as he tried to remember. “Oh, that’s right! She has water, wind, and earth magic. But wait… I believe she doesn’t use her earth magic due to some family traditions.” Father shrugged. “Either way, she’s incredibly advanced in wind and water for her age.”

I nodded. “So… When will the tutoring begin?”

“Tomorrow is your first scheduled date, but she and her family are also coming over tonight for a formal introduction and dinner.”

I sighed. Another formality dinner, the third one this week. I didn’t like having many people over, but I guess that's just the life of a noble. “Ok,” I smiled and tried to eat my breakfast. My chair that Father commissioned for me was far too small now, and I sat on a normal chair now, but with taller legs so I could reach the table.

Today’s breakfast was bacon, eggs, and fresh orange juice. I liked the meal, hot and crispy bacon with sunny-side up eggs, but with the risk of my secret being exposed, my appetite had disappeared.

Father looked up to me as we both finished eating. “Dalleon,” He said with an inquisitive tone. “I’m going out to practise my bow. I would like you to come, it's time for you to start training. Even if it's just the basics.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My eyes brightened. I had been awaiting this day, the one Father had told me about a million times. The day when I was old enough to start self defence training. My parents had been trying to decide if I would become a mage or adventurer, depending on my capabilities (if only they knew). I had overheard the plan; Father would watch my progress over the course of a year of training and evaluate if he thought I was good enough to continue on the path of a warrior. I assumed that with the tutor, she would watch my magical growth. I wanted to live a quiet and reserved life, so becoming a popular mage at age four probably wouldn’t help with that. I made a mental note to start finding ways to hide my magic.

“Are you ready to get started?” Father asked, and I eagerly nodded. Father pushed out his chair and stood up, walking to the door while I closely followed. Father pulled open the door and walked outside as I followed him, bouncing in excitement.

He led me over to a shed where all of the training materials and weapons were held. “This is the gear,” Father explained to me. “We’ll be using these today.” Father said, grabbing his bow and a few practice swords.

“Ok Dalleon, first we had to warm up.”

“Why?” I asked, trying my hardest to act like an inquisitive four year old.

Father laughed. “Here, think of it this way. If you have a piece of taffy that's cold, when you pull on it it just snaps, right?” I nodded, following along with his metaphor. “But, if the taffy is hot, it stretches!” He then pointed to his thigh. “If your muscles are cold, they’ll get hurt. But if they’re hot, they’ll just stretch.”

“Ok.” I said, beginning to run around in a big circle to warm up.

I looked to my side, and Father was already running next to me. “That’s the spirit, champ! Now, let's do two laps around the house. Then, we’ll stretch.”

We ran around the house, but by the time we were halfway through the second lap it was becoming hard for me to keep running. On the other hand, Father seemed perfectly fine. He looked over. “C’mon, you got this! Only a little further.”

For some reason, his reassurance pushed me to keep running. I pushed my legs against the ground as hard as I could, and soon reached the spot we had started. I slowed to a stop, and put my hands on my legs.

Father came up in front of me. “That was hard, wasn’t it?” He spoke with a big smile on his face. “Here, let me show you a trick.” He put his hands on my arms, and moved them up to my head. As they reached my head, I felt it easier to breathe. “See, it's a good trick, right? You never want to bend over, because it closes your lungs. If you put your hands on your head, it’ll open your lungs.”

I nodded as I caught my breath, and he continued. “Alright, ready to stretch?” He asked.

“Yea!” I responded. I was so excited to get started training, that I could barely keep myself together.

“Alright, here we go.” We sat down as he led me through several stretches. From touching our toes to stretching out our biceps, we spent over 20 minutes just getting our muscles loose.

Finally, after the final stretch he walked me over to the practice swords that had been set aside. He picked one up. “Are you ready?” he asked me.

I giddily shook my head in agreement. Father, smiling deviously, handed me a sword. I took the grip in my hands and tried to position it like in the movies I watched in my previous life. As I fumbled around, Father shook his head and helped correct my stance.

“Hold it like this,” He said. “You’re right handed, so your right hand will hold the grip right below the handle. Your left hand,” He grabbed and moved it, “Will grasp the grip right above the pommel.” He let go, and gestured for me to do a practice swing. I turned away from Father and swung the sword over my shoulder. Father did what would be described as a golf clap. “Do you want to try on this?” Father asked as he grabbed a practice dummy.

“Yes, yes!” I nodded viciously, and he placed it in front of me.

“Go ahead, swing the sword. Like this.” Father, holding a practice sword of his own, swung the sword diagonally downwards onto the dummy. As it made contact, the dummy fell backwards, and Father pulled it back up. “Your turn.” He said, gesturing to me to hit the dummy.

I brought down the sword from my shoulder, trying my hardest to mimic Father’s movements. Of course, this was my first time and I barely made contact.

Father watched my form, and then corrected my stance and swing. After that, I practised a few swings and then hit the dummy again. We continued this for an hour or so, until I was sweating buckets and my arms felt like limp spaghetti noodles.

It was around lunchtime that I stumbled into the house and collapsed onto my seat. Mother sat nearby, writing in her notebook. She glanced over at me and noticed the tired condition I was in, calling for the chef to make me a sandwich and a drink.

Soon, the chef came out with a platter and I was given some pork with cheese and lettuce between two slices of whole grain bread, all toasted. My mouth watered and I thanked the holy gods for whatever chef incorporated Earthly cuisine into this world. I grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. I smiled as the flavours hit my mouth.

The meat was salty and bursting with flavour. The lettuce brought in a nice crunch and the melted cheese dissolved in my mouth.

It must have helped that Father had worked me half to death earlier. I devoured my sandwich in record time and poured the sweet, refreshing drink down my gullet. It tasted a little bit like apple juice with a hint of minty flavour. I sighed and laid my head down on the table, full and happy. Mother smiled at me and patted my head. Soon, the exhaustion and my full belly took me off to sleep.